Deontay Greenberry is a six foot three inch senior at Washington Union High School in Fresno, California, who also happened to be the eighth highest ranked wide receiver in the country. He had full ride scholarship offers from over a dozen big name college football programs. Last May he gave a verbal commitment to Notre Dame, becoming the second player to do so. The NCAA mandates that high schoolers may not sign letters of intent ("LOIs") until sometime in February of their senior year. For 2012, that date was February 1, commonly referred to as National LOI Day. When a player signs a LOI, he becomes off limits to all other suitors. Because the NCAA restricts its universities in the number of football scholarships they can grant (25 in any one year, and a maximum of 85 overall in each school's program), and because there are approximately twenty-four different positions, including kickers, on each team, it's obvious that a team rarely is able to "load up" on one position. For example, a team would not usually have more than two or three centers on its team, nor would it have more than, say, four or five defensive ends. The coaches have to make sure that they have enough scholarships to fill each of those twenty-six positions with a first string, a second string, and several deeper reserves at key positions.
Once a player commits to a team, two things directly result immediately. First, the coaches of that team may discontinue recruiting additional players at that same position, taking into account the NCAA scholarship limitations cited above. Secondly, even if the coaches decide to recruit additional players at that same position, some high school players who had been considering that school may opt to pick a different university for the simple reason that they do not want to take the risk of not being able to beat out that first committed player for playing time. This is especially true in a situation like Notre Dame's commitment from a high school phenom like Greenberry. There are a lot of very good high school receivers who were no longer interested in ND once the Irish "landed" Greenberry.
The problem for ND coach Brian Kelley and his staff was that they had not, in fact, landed Greenberry. Even though, according to published reports, Greenberry had given assurances via the telephone not only to Irish recruiting coordinator Mike Denbrock but also to Greenberry's own cousin and high school teammate, Tee Shepard, as late as January 31 that his commitment was solid, Greenberry astonished the world of recruiting by changing his mind on the morning of National LOI Day. Shepard, a defensive back who enrolled as an "early entrant" at ND in January, was totally taken off guard, as was Greenberry's high school coach and Shepard's father (Greenberry's uncle). Greenberry faxed in his LOI to the University of Houston, and ND was left holding the bag, with their fans scratching their collective heads and muttering to themselves. It's important to note that high schoolers are not required to sign a LOI on National LOI Day; that date is merely the earliest they can sign. Some high school seniors, wrestling with their decision, wait a couple of weeks or even longer before faxing in their LOI to the school they finally select.
There is no question that a seventeen year old high school kid can be unpredictable. But why not show some respect to the coaches who offered you a scholarship and to whom you gave a verbal commitment? If you felt unsure or that your verbal commitment was wavering, why not man up and give your recruiter at least a heads-up instead of pulling the rug out at the last possible moment? Where does a young athlete learn that kind of disrespect? Perhaps he took his cue from New England Patriots head coach Bill Belichick.
Belichik, who has won three Super Bowls and is considered by the majority of football experts to be the gold standard of the thirty-two NFL head coaches, is not known as a wonderful and warm human being. Case in point: the cutting of wide receiver Tikwan Underwood from the Pats' roster on the night before last Sunday's Super Bowl. The Patriots and the Giants had two whole weeks to prepare for the game, having won their conference championships on January 22. The only New England player whose health made him doubtful for the big game was tight end Rob Gronkowski. When the team doctors cleared Gronkowski to play, Belichick decided he didn't need Underwood and gave him the proverbial pink slip Saturday night. Belichick replaced Underwood on the roster with a defensive lineman, Alex Silvestro, who did not even end up playing. Team officials sheepishly admitted to the press that Underwood had done nothing wrong. The kid was gung ho to play, and even had the Patriots logo shaved into his hair. No doubt he had family and friends in Indianapolis to watch him perform. Small consolation to Underwood that, despite being cut, he still received a paycheck for the game.
You would think a guy like Belichick, whose M O includes leaving nothing to chance, would have figured out way before Super Bowl Eve that he needed an extra defensive lineman. But then again, you would also think that a guy like Greenberry, who was committed to Notre Dame for nine months, would have figured out way before National LOI Day that he really didn't want to go to school there. So much for loyalty in the environment of big time football.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Movie Review: "The Grey"
"The Grey": B-. The opening shot of "The Grey" scans the beautiful snow-covered mountains of Alaska, with hardy green pines being the only sign of life. We then meet John Ottway (Liam Neeson), a big rugged outdoorsman making his way into the raucous bar at a large oil company's camp. There are punches being thrown and loud cursing all around him, but Ottway is alone with his thoughts and his bottle at the bar. He narrates to us that these men who work the pipeline in the Alaskan outback are ex-cons, punks, trouble makers and assorted losers. Ottway seems too intelligent to be part of that scene, yet there he is. He is a sharp-shooter, hired by the company to pick off wolves and other animals who threaten the line workers. Accordingly, he is an expert on the habits of the northland's wild beasts. His mind wanders to a pretty woman who is lying in bed with him, telling him to be brave. That mental vision lasts only a few seconds. Abruptly he leaves the bar, contemplates suicide, but changes his mind and gets on the frigid company plane with thirty or forty other pipeline workers who are on their way to a job site in no man's land. Ottway does not want to join in the conversation. His vision of the woman comes back to him. Once again he's alone in his thoughts, just like he was at the bar.
The plane crashes in the mountains. Blood and guts are strewn across a large area. Ottway somehow survives the crash, along with only six other men. He comforts a dying man inside the plane, then reluctantly surmises that he alone among the survivors has the skills and the knowledge to give them a chance to remain alive while they hope against hope for rescue. Someone correctly predicts that their chances of being rescued are practically nil. If the searchers sent up forty planes, maybe they'd be spotted. But these men are nobodies, in their own eyes, so the search for them will more likely consist of only one or two planes.
Not everyone is keen on Ottway taking charge. After all, he wasn't elected. But it soon becomes apparent that they need a leader, and he is the most trusted. The men believe that their biggest challenges are avoiding starvation and freezing to death. There is one thing they overlooked, however: wolves. The group finds out the hard way when a wolfpack has one of the men for a late night snack. Good thing Ottway is a wolf expert. Can he lead the men to safety? Are they in the wolves' habitat, within a thirty mile radius of their den, or was the pack just passing through? They can't stay by the plane. There is too much blood in the snow, easily detected by the wolves. They head for the faraway trees, not knowing for sure if that is the direction they should be going.
Other than Ottway, we really do not learn much about the survivors. It took me awhile to remember their names. I identified them as the guy with the big glasses, the guy with the neck tattoo, the black guy, the guy with the swollen eye who prayed, etc. They were in many respects fungible characters, which was a weakness of the movie. It also seemed to me that the bitter cold was not dealt with realistically throughout the movie, only in sporadic scenes. In one scene a character is submerged in a river, yet his clothes come out of it without freezing. On the plus side, Neeson is perfectly cast. Rugged, intelligent, brave, believable. Toward the end of the movie we learn more about the woman in his dreams. Ottway had a lot on his mind besides his co-workers and the wolves.
The plane crashes in the mountains. Blood and guts are strewn across a large area. Ottway somehow survives the crash, along with only six other men. He comforts a dying man inside the plane, then reluctantly surmises that he alone among the survivors has the skills and the knowledge to give them a chance to remain alive while they hope against hope for rescue. Someone correctly predicts that their chances of being rescued are practically nil. If the searchers sent up forty planes, maybe they'd be spotted. But these men are nobodies, in their own eyes, so the search for them will more likely consist of only one or two planes.
Not everyone is keen on Ottway taking charge. After all, he wasn't elected. But it soon becomes apparent that they need a leader, and he is the most trusted. The men believe that their biggest challenges are avoiding starvation and freezing to death. There is one thing they overlooked, however: wolves. The group finds out the hard way when a wolfpack has one of the men for a late night snack. Good thing Ottway is a wolf expert. Can he lead the men to safety? Are they in the wolves' habitat, within a thirty mile radius of their den, or was the pack just passing through? They can't stay by the plane. There is too much blood in the snow, easily detected by the wolves. They head for the faraway trees, not knowing for sure if that is the direction they should be going.
Other than Ottway, we really do not learn much about the survivors. It took me awhile to remember their names. I identified them as the guy with the big glasses, the guy with the neck tattoo, the black guy, the guy with the swollen eye who prayed, etc. They were in many respects fungible characters, which was a weakness of the movie. It also seemed to me that the bitter cold was not dealt with realistically throughout the movie, only in sporadic scenes. In one scene a character is submerged in a river, yet his clothes come out of it without freezing. On the plus side, Neeson is perfectly cast. Rugged, intelligent, brave, believable. Toward the end of the movie we learn more about the woman in his dreams. Ottway had a lot on his mind besides his co-workers and the wolves.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Dillon Hall Diaries: Singing With The Temptations
I thought that, from time to time, I might do a post about what life was like at Notre Dame "back in the day," i.e., from 1965 to 1969. That was the four year span I spent there as an undergrad, majoring in finance. I have decided to label those posts as "Dillon Hall Diaries," in honor of my old haunt.
I lived in Dillon Hall from my sophomore year through my senior year. In those days, ND was all guys, and there were eighteen residence halls. Dillon, located on the South Quad right between Alumni Hall and the South Dining Hall, was home to over four hundred of us, by far the largest dorm. When you are a student at ND, and even after you graduate, people familiar with the school always want to know what hall you lived in. That was the quickest way to identify someone, even moreso than his major. There were (and are) no fraternities at ND, so the dorm you resided in functioned somewhat like a frat house. If your first mental image of a frat house is a bunch of guys living like slobs and never missing an excuse to throw down a beer or two, you could equally apply that concept to most of the Irish dorms, including Dillon. We studied very hard, but we partied heartily too. When college guys like us would go days, maybe even weeks, without talking to a girl, let alone having one visit us where we lived, it was not surprising that we just might have gotten a little rough around the edges.
Yes, it is true, we did in fact have maids. They showed up around 10:00 a.m., as I recall, and they were gone by about 2:00. They made the beds, and did a little mopping and dusting. Lord knows we would have never done those jobs ourselves, so my thinking is that the university hired those poor women to keep the city of South Bend from condemning half the dorms as uninhabitible. Most of the maids were gradmother types. Looking back, I'd say they were brave.
Every dorm also had a rector who was a Holy Cross priest. Ours was Father Flannigan, an art professor and a good guy. Like me, he lived on the first floor of our four story building, but he was at the opposite end next to the hall chapel. Because Dillon was so big, we also had a couple of other priests living in our midst. One was Father Burtchaell, a theology prof whose most interesting characteristic was his British accent. Father Burtchael was a nice enough guy, I suppose, but he had an aristocratic air about him which always made me think that the only reason he was quartered in Dillon was due to the lack of a vacancy in a more refined dorm like Fisher or Pangborn.
I mentioned above that Dillon was right next to the South Dining Hall. None of us had much spending money, and what little we did have was usually saved for weekend six packs. Therefore, we were economically forced to eat all of our meals in the South Dining Hall. Almost no one bothered to get up in time for breakfast. Instead, rolling out of the sack ten minutes before our first class was our preference. We knew we were not passing up a great meal. Lunch, even though our first meal of the day, was typically on the run. The food was crummy, the coffee tasted day-old, and since everyone was on his own schedule, being able to eat lunch with your friends was hit and miss. Dinner, on the other hand, was a different story, in many ways the highlight of the day, not because the evening grub was any great shakes, but because of the camaraderie before and during that repast, and especially afterwards. Instead of dessert we'd all have our cup of java and a smoke while discussing (and solving) the world's problems before venturing off for a long night of studying.
In my senior year there was a group of six or seven of us who lived in Dillon, and almost every night before we headed off to the South Dining Hall for dinner we would gather in one of the guys' rooms to sing along to the Temptations Greatest Hits album. The Temptations was our favorite Motown group. Although we were all white, one of our group, Joe Renice from Long Island, sounded exactly like David Ruffin, the lead singer on many of the Temptations' tunes. One evening during our sing-along, I was sprawled out on the top bunk, lying on my back with my eyes closed, singing my heart out. As usual, the music was so loud that I could barely hear my "fellow Temptations." About three fourths of the way through a song, I realized that I was the only one singing. I opened my eyes, propped myself up on an elbow, looked down and there was Father Burtchaell standing in the doorway. He looked like he wanted to laugh, but managed to restrain himself. For the rest of the year, every time I ran into him he made sure to ask me how my singing career was coming along.
I lived in Dillon Hall from my sophomore year through my senior year. In those days, ND was all guys, and there were eighteen residence halls. Dillon, located on the South Quad right between Alumni Hall and the South Dining Hall, was home to over four hundred of us, by far the largest dorm. When you are a student at ND, and even after you graduate, people familiar with the school always want to know what hall you lived in. That was the quickest way to identify someone, even moreso than his major. There were (and are) no fraternities at ND, so the dorm you resided in functioned somewhat like a frat house. If your first mental image of a frat house is a bunch of guys living like slobs and never missing an excuse to throw down a beer or two, you could equally apply that concept to most of the Irish dorms, including Dillon. We studied very hard, but we partied heartily too. When college guys like us would go days, maybe even weeks, without talking to a girl, let alone having one visit us where we lived, it was not surprising that we just might have gotten a little rough around the edges.
Yes, it is true, we did in fact have maids. They showed up around 10:00 a.m., as I recall, and they were gone by about 2:00. They made the beds, and did a little mopping and dusting. Lord knows we would have never done those jobs ourselves, so my thinking is that the university hired those poor women to keep the city of South Bend from condemning half the dorms as uninhabitible. Most of the maids were gradmother types. Looking back, I'd say they were brave.
Every dorm also had a rector who was a Holy Cross priest. Ours was Father Flannigan, an art professor and a good guy. Like me, he lived on the first floor of our four story building, but he was at the opposite end next to the hall chapel. Because Dillon was so big, we also had a couple of other priests living in our midst. One was Father Burtchaell, a theology prof whose most interesting characteristic was his British accent. Father Burtchael was a nice enough guy, I suppose, but he had an aristocratic air about him which always made me think that the only reason he was quartered in Dillon was due to the lack of a vacancy in a more refined dorm like Fisher or Pangborn.
I mentioned above that Dillon was right next to the South Dining Hall. None of us had much spending money, and what little we did have was usually saved for weekend six packs. Therefore, we were economically forced to eat all of our meals in the South Dining Hall. Almost no one bothered to get up in time for breakfast. Instead, rolling out of the sack ten minutes before our first class was our preference. We knew we were not passing up a great meal. Lunch, even though our first meal of the day, was typically on the run. The food was crummy, the coffee tasted day-old, and since everyone was on his own schedule, being able to eat lunch with your friends was hit and miss. Dinner, on the other hand, was a different story, in many ways the highlight of the day, not because the evening grub was any great shakes, but because of the camaraderie before and during that repast, and especially afterwards. Instead of dessert we'd all have our cup of java and a smoke while discussing (and solving) the world's problems before venturing off for a long night of studying.
In my senior year there was a group of six or seven of us who lived in Dillon, and almost every night before we headed off to the South Dining Hall for dinner we would gather in one of the guys' rooms to sing along to the Temptations Greatest Hits album. The Temptations was our favorite Motown group. Although we were all white, one of our group, Joe Renice from Long Island, sounded exactly like David Ruffin, the lead singer on many of the Temptations' tunes. One evening during our sing-along, I was sprawled out on the top bunk, lying on my back with my eyes closed, singing my heart out. As usual, the music was so loud that I could barely hear my "fellow Temptations." About three fourths of the way through a song, I realized that I was the only one singing. I opened my eyes, propped myself up on an elbow, looked down and there was Father Burtchaell standing in the doorway. He looked like he wanted to laugh, but managed to restrain himself. For the rest of the year, every time I ran into him he made sure to ask me how my singing career was coming along.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Left Tackles: The Baddest Of The Big Uglies
I always chuckle when the media calls six of the players on a football team's eleven man offensive unit "skill position players," as if the other guys, the five linemen, were chopped liver. By way of background, the so-called skill position players, according to the media, are the quarterback, the running backs, the wide receivers and the tight end. The remaing five are interior linemen, more precisely the left tackle, the left guard, the center, the right guard and the right tackle. Sometimes those five are affectionately referred to as "the big uglies." Other than the quarterback, who is usually the most highly compensated player on his NFL team and the brains of the outfit, the big uglies as a group are the smartest guys on the squad. It is not unusual for a rookie to play important minutes, maybe even start, if he is a skill position player other than QB, or else if he's on the defense. Not so for rookie offensive linemen. You will seldom see a rookie starting as an interior lineman, especially in the first two-thirds of the season. There is too much to learn in terms of the playbook, blocking schemes, audibles, defense recognition, footwork, leverage and other technical requirements. Perhaps the biggest reason why rookies don't often play much in the interior line is chemistry. It is the only unit in football which requires five guys to be on the same page for every play. If one of the starting five goes down to injury, things don't run nearly as smoothly when a sub comes in, because each guy on the line has a feel for how the guy(s) next to him do their jobs. That chemistry is not perfected overnight, maybe not even in the course of an entire season.
Of the five positions on an offensive line, the most important one and the spot requiring the most unique talents is the left tackle. This is not to say that the other four guys are second class. As noted above, the O-line functions as a unit and depends on a chemistry developed over a long period of time among the five. But the key guy, the baddest of the big uglies, is the left tackle. That explains why he is paid more than his buddies. You may ask, what makes the LT so valuable? To the typical fan in the stands, or TV armchair quarterback, all five of those guys toil in anonymity, they all look the same, and (except for the center snaps) they never touch the ball. What's the difference between the role of a LT and that of his linemates? Good thing you're reading this post, because I'm about to tell you.
Most NFL teams invest literally millions of dollars in their quarterbacks. Most QBs do not make a habit of running the ball. Instead, their bread and butter is the passing game. When a QB gets injured, it is usually because he was sacked. When a sack occurs, that's a result of one of two events: either the quarterback holds onto the ball too long (a "coverage sack") or a breakdown has occurred in the pass-protection blocking. Since most QBs are right-handed, their blind side is from the left side of the line of scrimmage. A left tackle's main responsibility is to protect his millionaire QB's blind side. Defensively, teams typically put their best pass rusher at right end, so that guy and the offensive left tackle are nose-to-nose for sixty to seventy snaps a game.
If blocking the other team's right defensive end was the left tackle's only responsibility, that would be tough enough. But there are a lot of other things which that big ugly must master. The footwork and leverage required for drive blocking on running plays is totally different than they are for dropping into pass protection. Unlike guards or centers, a left tackle usually is not involved in double-team blocking schemes. He is expected to beat his man one-on-one. The great left tackles (such as D'Brickashaw Ferguson of the Jets or Joe Thomas of the Browns) do not need blocking help from their tight ends. This frees up the tight end either to go out on a route as an additional receiver or to stay behind the line of scrimmage for max pass protection, perhaps helping out the right tackle. Sometimes the left tackle is called upon to seal-block on a sweep, which requires him to get outside the defensive end who is already lined up outside the tackle's left shoulder. Other times he has to check-block and then quickly get out to the flat to set up a screen pass. More screen passes are run to the left side than the right because they are basically counter plays. The idea is to get the defense flowing to its left (i.e., the offense's right), then tossing the ball against that flow to a receiver on the other side of the field. Guess who is in front of the guy catching the pass? You got it, the left tackle! The defense can be susceptible to this because most offenses run more to their right side, and the screen pass play starts out looking like a sweep to the right.
Once an offensive lineman is set, he is not permitted even to twitch. To do so results in a false start penalty. This is especially tough on the road, where eighty thousand of the home team's fans are screaming at the top of their lungs, rendering the QB's signals inaudible. The defense, on the other hand, can move around before the snap all it wants. This makes blocking assignments for the big uglies that much tougher. If the defense "shows blitz," a tackle might have to block a linebacker (instead of the right end) who has built up a head of steam before the collision with the LT. Since most linebackers in the NFL weigh anywhere from fifty to seventy-five pounds less than the left tackle, the latter needs quick feet and usually a long wingspan to keep the LB from speed rushing around him on a path to sacking the quarterback.
The two attributes identified at the end of the immediately preceding paragraph (quick feet and long winspan) are identified by O-line coaches in their pre-season evaluations of whether to place one of their behemoths at LT or RT. A man who is not blessed with either, but is too big to play guard or center, will probably be designated for RT. In defense of RTs, they may be better at drive blocking than their teammate at LT. Also, sometimes with a year or two of experience at RT, the coaches might move him to the more difficult LT spot.
The fastest way for an offense to score is with "the long bomb," that is, a pass which is in the air at least forty yards. In order to pull that off, a QB has to take a five or seven step drop to give his receiver time to get down field. This can only be accomplished if the big uglies keep the defenders at bay. If the O-line is getting manhandled by the defense, the offense will be relegated to three-step drops and a quicker release by the QB. The result is shorter timing passes and no long bombs. Once the long bomb is, for all intents and purposes, removed from the playbook, the safeties can play up closer to the line to stop the run. If you think all that sounds like a domino effect, you're right. The entire offensive game plan can be shredded if the O-line has a bad day.
When you watch the Super Bowl this Sunday, do yourself a favor. Instead of watching the ball every play, keep your eyes on the battle in the trenches, i.e., the line of scrimmage. The team with the more effective offensive line will probably win the game.
Of the five positions on an offensive line, the most important one and the spot requiring the most unique talents is the left tackle. This is not to say that the other four guys are second class. As noted above, the O-line functions as a unit and depends on a chemistry developed over a long period of time among the five. But the key guy, the baddest of the big uglies, is the left tackle. That explains why he is paid more than his buddies. You may ask, what makes the LT so valuable? To the typical fan in the stands, or TV armchair quarterback, all five of those guys toil in anonymity, they all look the same, and (except for the center snaps) they never touch the ball. What's the difference between the role of a LT and that of his linemates? Good thing you're reading this post, because I'm about to tell you.
Most NFL teams invest literally millions of dollars in their quarterbacks. Most QBs do not make a habit of running the ball. Instead, their bread and butter is the passing game. When a QB gets injured, it is usually because he was sacked. When a sack occurs, that's a result of one of two events: either the quarterback holds onto the ball too long (a "coverage sack") or a breakdown has occurred in the pass-protection blocking. Since most QBs are right-handed, their blind side is from the left side of the line of scrimmage. A left tackle's main responsibility is to protect his millionaire QB's blind side. Defensively, teams typically put their best pass rusher at right end, so that guy and the offensive left tackle are nose-to-nose for sixty to seventy snaps a game.
If blocking the other team's right defensive end was the left tackle's only responsibility, that would be tough enough. But there are a lot of other things which that big ugly must master. The footwork and leverage required for drive blocking on running plays is totally different than they are for dropping into pass protection. Unlike guards or centers, a left tackle usually is not involved in double-team blocking schemes. He is expected to beat his man one-on-one. The great left tackles (such as D'Brickashaw Ferguson of the Jets or Joe Thomas of the Browns) do not need blocking help from their tight ends. This frees up the tight end either to go out on a route as an additional receiver or to stay behind the line of scrimmage for max pass protection, perhaps helping out the right tackle. Sometimes the left tackle is called upon to seal-block on a sweep, which requires him to get outside the defensive end who is already lined up outside the tackle's left shoulder. Other times he has to check-block and then quickly get out to the flat to set up a screen pass. More screen passes are run to the left side than the right because they are basically counter plays. The idea is to get the defense flowing to its left (i.e., the offense's right), then tossing the ball against that flow to a receiver on the other side of the field. Guess who is in front of the guy catching the pass? You got it, the left tackle! The defense can be susceptible to this because most offenses run more to their right side, and the screen pass play starts out looking like a sweep to the right.
Once an offensive lineman is set, he is not permitted even to twitch. To do so results in a false start penalty. This is especially tough on the road, where eighty thousand of the home team's fans are screaming at the top of their lungs, rendering the QB's signals inaudible. The defense, on the other hand, can move around before the snap all it wants. This makes blocking assignments for the big uglies that much tougher. If the defense "shows blitz," a tackle might have to block a linebacker (instead of the right end) who has built up a head of steam before the collision with the LT. Since most linebackers in the NFL weigh anywhere from fifty to seventy-five pounds less than the left tackle, the latter needs quick feet and usually a long wingspan to keep the LB from speed rushing around him on a path to sacking the quarterback.
The two attributes identified at the end of the immediately preceding paragraph (quick feet and long winspan) are identified by O-line coaches in their pre-season evaluations of whether to place one of their behemoths at LT or RT. A man who is not blessed with either, but is too big to play guard or center, will probably be designated for RT. In defense of RTs, they may be better at drive blocking than their teammate at LT. Also, sometimes with a year or two of experience at RT, the coaches might move him to the more difficult LT spot.
The fastest way for an offense to score is with "the long bomb," that is, a pass which is in the air at least forty yards. In order to pull that off, a QB has to take a five or seven step drop to give his receiver time to get down field. This can only be accomplished if the big uglies keep the defenders at bay. If the O-line is getting manhandled by the defense, the offense will be relegated to three-step drops and a quicker release by the QB. The result is shorter timing passes and no long bombs. Once the long bomb is, for all intents and purposes, removed from the playbook, the safeties can play up closer to the line to stop the run. If you think all that sounds like a domino effect, you're right. The entire offensive game plan can be shredded if the O-line has a bad day.
When you watch the Super Bowl this Sunday, do yourself a favor. Instead of watching the ball every play, keep your eyes on the battle in the trenches, i.e., the line of scrimmage. The team with the more effective offensive line will probably win the game.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Movie Review: "The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo"
"The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo": A-. This movie is the American remake of the Swedish hit of the same title from 2009. (The Swedish film was not released in the US until 2010.) Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig), an investigative reporter, writes an article for Millennium Magazine in Stockholm accusing a business tycoon, Hans Wennerstrom, of corruption. Unfortunately for Blomkvist, the evidence for his article was only circumstantial, and Wennerstrom wins a big libel suit against him. A despondent Blomkvist walks back from the courthouse to the magazine's office and tells his boss/lover that he is turning in his typewriter. Within a matter of hours, Blomkvist is approached by a lawyer representing Henrik Vanger, an elder statesman from the famous industrialist Vanger family, to ascertain his interest in doing a special research project. Blomkvist takes a train four hours north of the city into the remote town of Hedestad to learn more about the project from Henrik (the always cool Christopher Plummer). Henrik and most of the other Vanger family elders live on a large forested island in the river which flows through town.
Why does Henrik want to hire Blomkvist after Blomkvist has just suffered the national embarrassment of losing his well-publicized legal battle with Wennerstrom? We find out that Henrik, through his attorney, hired a private eye firm to check on Blomkvist to determine whether he was the right man for the job. The investigator who did the work was a mysterious young woman named Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara), complete with spiked hair, piercings all over her body, a no-nonsense aura, and most importantly, the ability to hack into any computer known to man. Even before Blomkvist has boarded the train to Hedestad, Lisbeth, and therefore Henrik, knows everything there is to know about Blomkvist. He is, indeed, the right man for the job.
Unbeknownst to other Vanger family members, the "job" Henrik asks Blomkvist to undertake is simply to find out who killed his beloved niece, Harriet, some forty years ago. Her body was never discovered, even though the case was thoroughly investigated at the time by the local police. Talk about a cold case! Henrik suspects it was a fellow family member, or at least someone on the island that day, because the bridge crossing the river into town was barricaded due to a massive trucking accident. There was, and still is, no other way off the island!
Henrik finally convinces Blomkvist to take the case, telling him that part of Blomkvist's compensation will be "getting the real dirt" on Wennerstrom, dirt which Blomkvist never had available to him during the trial. Blomkvist takes up residence in an island cottage, and digs into the boxes of case-related documents which Henrik has gathered in his futile effort to find Harriet's killer. Meanwhile, Lisbeth has her own personal tragedies to deal with. Blomkvist and Lisbeth's paths eventually cross again, and when they do the action really heats up in more ways than one.
This is an excellent movie for many reasons, as was the original. I read somewhere that Lisbeth Salander will go down in literary and cinema history as one of the great detective heroines of all time. Whether true or not, I would not want to mess with her. In the original film, European actor Michael Nyqvist played Blomkvist as kind of an everyman, perhaps because Nyqvist in real life looks like an atypical movie star. By contrast, Daniel Craig's film roles have included a couple of stints as James Bond. The mystique of an island in the far reaches of northern Sweden, especially during the winter season, was awesome. (The movie poster reads, "What is hidden in the snow comes forth in the thaw.") There is also a creepy tie-in between the Vangers and the Nazis. Among the dozens of clues pursued by Blomqvist and Lisbeth, my favorite is the series of photographs taken earlier on the day of Harriet's disappearance forty years ago. The photos show her watching a parade in Hedestad, when suddenly her eyes catch a glimpse of something that rattles her. If Blomqvist and Lisbeth can figure out what she saw, perhaps the case will be solved.
I feel somewhat guilty giving this movie an A- instead of an A. There are many Vanger family members, and some of them are seen and discussed both in the present-day and at the time of Harriet's disappearance when they obviously looked different. Some of the dialogue is obscured by thick accents. To get the most out of this movie, you need to be wide awake and alert. You have to exert some effort as a viewer. It is hard to bestow an A to a movie that had me scratching my head sometimes, notwithstanding my noble efforts to keep track of everything. Maybe the shortfall was mine, but I'm sticking with the A-.
Why does Henrik want to hire Blomkvist after Blomkvist has just suffered the national embarrassment of losing his well-publicized legal battle with Wennerstrom? We find out that Henrik, through his attorney, hired a private eye firm to check on Blomkvist to determine whether he was the right man for the job. The investigator who did the work was a mysterious young woman named Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara), complete with spiked hair, piercings all over her body, a no-nonsense aura, and most importantly, the ability to hack into any computer known to man. Even before Blomkvist has boarded the train to Hedestad, Lisbeth, and therefore Henrik, knows everything there is to know about Blomkvist. He is, indeed, the right man for the job.
Unbeknownst to other Vanger family members, the "job" Henrik asks Blomkvist to undertake is simply to find out who killed his beloved niece, Harriet, some forty years ago. Her body was never discovered, even though the case was thoroughly investigated at the time by the local police. Talk about a cold case! Henrik suspects it was a fellow family member, or at least someone on the island that day, because the bridge crossing the river into town was barricaded due to a massive trucking accident. There was, and still is, no other way off the island!
Henrik finally convinces Blomkvist to take the case, telling him that part of Blomkvist's compensation will be "getting the real dirt" on Wennerstrom, dirt which Blomkvist never had available to him during the trial. Blomkvist takes up residence in an island cottage, and digs into the boxes of case-related documents which Henrik has gathered in his futile effort to find Harriet's killer. Meanwhile, Lisbeth has her own personal tragedies to deal with. Blomkvist and Lisbeth's paths eventually cross again, and when they do the action really heats up in more ways than one.
This is an excellent movie for many reasons, as was the original. I read somewhere that Lisbeth Salander will go down in literary and cinema history as one of the great detective heroines of all time. Whether true or not, I would not want to mess with her. In the original film, European actor Michael Nyqvist played Blomkvist as kind of an everyman, perhaps because Nyqvist in real life looks like an atypical movie star. By contrast, Daniel Craig's film roles have included a couple of stints as James Bond. The mystique of an island in the far reaches of northern Sweden, especially during the winter season, was awesome. (The movie poster reads, "What is hidden in the snow comes forth in the thaw.") There is also a creepy tie-in between the Vangers and the Nazis. Among the dozens of clues pursued by Blomqvist and Lisbeth, my favorite is the series of photographs taken earlier on the day of Harriet's disappearance forty years ago. The photos show her watching a parade in Hedestad, when suddenly her eyes catch a glimpse of something that rattles her. If Blomqvist and Lisbeth can figure out what she saw, perhaps the case will be solved.
I feel somewhat guilty giving this movie an A- instead of an A. There are many Vanger family members, and some of them are seen and discussed both in the present-day and at the time of Harriet's disappearance when they obviously looked different. Some of the dialogue is obscured by thick accents. To get the most out of this movie, you need to be wide awake and alert. You have to exert some effort as a viewer. It is hard to bestow an A to a movie that had me scratching my head sometimes, notwithstanding my noble efforts to keep track of everything. Maybe the shortfall was mine, but I'm sticking with the A-.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Laddering CDs
In my January 24 post ("Cash: The Least Sexy Part Of Your Portfolio"), I wrote about the various reasons why you might want to make cash a certain percentage of your investment portfolio, after taking into account your investment objectives and your tolerance for risk, among other things. Once you have settled on an amount for the cash portion, you typically have the option of putting the cash in a money market account, a government issued short-term security or a short-term certificate of deposit (a "CD"). All three can function as cash. This post addresses the issue of how to build a ladder for the chunk you're putting into CDs, particularly an initial mixture of short-term and mid-term CDs.
A CD is akin to a contract between you and a financial institution (the "Bank"), whereby the Bank agrees to pay you a little bit higher rate of interest on the amount deposited than it would be willing to pay on a regular savings account, provided you agree to keep that deposit untouched for a certain period of time. It is almost always true that the longer the term of the CD, the higher the applicable rate of interest. If you decide to "break the contract" by pulling your money out before the end of the term, you are assessed a monetary penalty. The penalty usually equals about 10% of the amount withdrawn. As you can see, therefore, an individual who is considering CDs has to balance the desire for a higher rate which usually comes with a longer term CD against its illiquidity. Because of the illiquid nature of even short-term CDs, a depositor should put some cash aside, apart from the funds going into CDs.
So, now that we've laid the groundwork, how do you set up a ladder? The goal of a CD ladder is to get to the point where you have a three-year (or if you prefer, a five-year) CD maturing every year. That point can be reached in three years, following these steps:
Step 1: Divide the money you are going to use for your CD ladder into three equal lots. With the money in Lot # 1, buy a one-year CD ("CD # 1"); simultaneously, with the money in Lot # 2, buy a two-year CD ("CD # 2"), and with the money in Lot # 3, buy a three-year CD ("CD # 3").
Step 2: After one year (or in other words, at the very beginning of Year # 2), CD # 1 will mature. Take the money from that matured CD # 1 and buy a three-year CD ("CD # 4"). Don't do anything with CD # 2 or CD # 3; they have not yet matured, so let them ride.
Step 3: After another year (or in other words, at the very beginning of Year # 3), CD # 2 will mature. Take the money from that matured CD # 2 and buy a three-year CD ("CD # 5"). Don't do anything with CD # 3 or CD # 4; they have not yet matured, so let them ride.
Step 4: After another year (or in other words, at the very beginning of Year # 4), CD # 3 will mature. Take the money from that matured CD # 3 and buy another three-year CD ("CD # 6"). Don't do anything with CD # 4 or CD # 5; they have not yet matured, so let them ride.
You have no doubt noticed that once you have completed Step 3, you will have a three-year CD maturing every year going forward, and when that happens (i) you take the money from that matured CD and buy a new three-year CD, and (ii) you let your other two CDs ride because they have not yet matured. That, boys and girls, is what we call a "CD ladder." The beauty of a ladder is that you are getting the benefit of a higher rate for a three-year commitment than you would for only a one-year commitment, but you are investing at regular annual intervals instead of three year intervals. As noted above, you could set up a longer-term (say, five-year) ladder instead of a three-year ladder, but then the issue of liquidity merits even more consideration. Plus, it is not always easy to find an acceptable five-year CD.
Two other related items. First, you do not have to buy all your CDs from the same Bank. Check out the website "bankrate.com" for a search of banks offering the best deals. The search can be run locally or nationally. Second, although this is beyond the scope of this post, you should be aware that some investors use the ladder concept for bonds, as those instruments can also be found in terms of different lengths.
A CD is akin to a contract between you and a financial institution (the "Bank"), whereby the Bank agrees to pay you a little bit higher rate of interest on the amount deposited than it would be willing to pay on a regular savings account, provided you agree to keep that deposit untouched for a certain period of time. It is almost always true that the longer the term of the CD, the higher the applicable rate of interest. If you decide to "break the contract" by pulling your money out before the end of the term, you are assessed a monetary penalty. The penalty usually equals about 10% of the amount withdrawn. As you can see, therefore, an individual who is considering CDs has to balance the desire for a higher rate which usually comes with a longer term CD against its illiquidity. Because of the illiquid nature of even short-term CDs, a depositor should put some cash aside, apart from the funds going into CDs.
So, now that we've laid the groundwork, how do you set up a ladder? The goal of a CD ladder is to get to the point where you have a three-year (or if you prefer, a five-year) CD maturing every year. That point can be reached in three years, following these steps:
Step 1: Divide the money you are going to use for your CD ladder into three equal lots. With the money in Lot # 1, buy a one-year CD ("CD # 1"); simultaneously, with the money in Lot # 2, buy a two-year CD ("CD # 2"), and with the money in Lot # 3, buy a three-year CD ("CD # 3").
Step 2: After one year (or in other words, at the very beginning of Year # 2), CD # 1 will mature. Take the money from that matured CD # 1 and buy a three-year CD ("CD # 4"). Don't do anything with CD # 2 or CD # 3; they have not yet matured, so let them ride.
Step 3: After another year (or in other words, at the very beginning of Year # 3), CD # 2 will mature. Take the money from that matured CD # 2 and buy a three-year CD ("CD # 5"). Don't do anything with CD # 3 or CD # 4; they have not yet matured, so let them ride.
Step 4: After another year (or in other words, at the very beginning of Year # 4), CD # 3 will mature. Take the money from that matured CD # 3 and buy another three-year CD ("CD # 6"). Don't do anything with CD # 4 or CD # 5; they have not yet matured, so let them ride.
You have no doubt noticed that once you have completed Step 3, you will have a three-year CD maturing every year going forward, and when that happens (i) you take the money from that matured CD and buy a new three-year CD, and (ii) you let your other two CDs ride because they have not yet matured. That, boys and girls, is what we call a "CD ladder." The beauty of a ladder is that you are getting the benefit of a higher rate for a three-year commitment than you would for only a one-year commitment, but you are investing at regular annual intervals instead of three year intervals. As noted above, you could set up a longer-term (say, five-year) ladder instead of a three-year ladder, but then the issue of liquidity merits even more consideration. Plus, it is not always easy to find an acceptable five-year CD.
Two other related items. First, you do not have to buy all your CDs from the same Bank. Check out the website "bankrate.com" for a search of banks offering the best deals. The search can be run locally or nationally. Second, although this is beyond the scope of this post, you should be aware that some investors use the ladder concept for bonds, as those instruments can also be found in terms of different lengths.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Movie Review: "The Artist"
"The Artist": A. I realize that in my last post I promised to write next about CD laddering. That is in the works, I swear. But, I saw "The Artist" yesterday, and wanted to write my thoughts before they evaporated from my little brain.
The time is 1926, and George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) is a mega star of silent movies. Theaters are packed to see this dashing Valentino-like actor make his smooth moves across the screen with his little four-legged canine friend. The men in the audience are attired in suits and ties, the ladies are accessorized with their finest jewels. A live orchestra provides the only soundtrack, and when the film ends, Valentin steps out from behind the curtain to take a bow and bask in the glow of a standing O. Likewise, later outside the theater, members of the press push and shove with the public to get a close-up view of the larger-than-life Valentin. One of those in the madhouse scene is an extremely cute young thang, Peppy Miller (the lovable Berenice Bejo), who accidentally bumps into Valentin when she stoops to fetch her dropped purse off the sidewalk. George is smitten when he sees who's bumped him, and they momentarily give each other an impromptu smile and a hug. The newspaper photographers capture that fleeting moment, and the picture of the embrace is all over the Hollywood papers the next day under the headline, "Who Was That Girl?"
Peppy is an aspiring actress, and realizing this might be her only "fifteen seconds of fame," she maneuvers in certain circles to let the powers-that-be know that it is she, Peppy, who was the girl in the widespread photo. Sure, you might call her conniving, but she is so darn cute that we, instead, are going to say she's savvy. It also doesn't hurt that she is a terrific dancer. She gets a few bit parts in movies, and before long she has worked her way up the list of credits to the point that she becomes a leading lady. She and George have kept in contact, but he is married, albeit unhappily, and she is busy becoming a new celebrity.
Flash forward two years, and the age of silent films is on the wane. Valentin doesn't want to believe it, and turns up his nose when producer Al Zimmer (John Goodman) advises him of that fact. Meanwhile, Peppy embraces the chance to get in on the cutting edge of this new technology, talkies! Her career is on the fast track, while George's is in a free fall, both in terms of his work and his personal life. Can the relationship between George and Peppy, however you want to label it, survive this disparity? What will become of George? He was Peppy's mentor; now he's a has-been. Is this melodrama headed for an unhappy ending?
There is not much to quibble with when evaluating this movie. Dujardin is absolutely outstanding with his ability to use facial expressions and body language to convey his thoughts without the aid of dialogue. That is acting in its purest form. He is old enough to portray a Hollywood icon, yet young enough to be believable as a potential romantic interest of Peppy. Bejo is perfect for her part as well. When she is on the screen it's hard to look elsewhere. The role calls for her to show a wide range of emotions, and she is able to do just that seemingly effortlessly. I loved the musical score which, as you might expect for a film with almost no dialogue, is a key ingredient. The worst thing I can say about "The Artist" is that it is a little too schmaltzy, particularly in the last reel, but that minor beef is not enough to keep me from giving it an A.
The time is 1926, and George Valentin (Jean Dujardin) is a mega star of silent movies. Theaters are packed to see this dashing Valentino-like actor make his smooth moves across the screen with his little four-legged canine friend. The men in the audience are attired in suits and ties, the ladies are accessorized with their finest jewels. A live orchestra provides the only soundtrack, and when the film ends, Valentin steps out from behind the curtain to take a bow and bask in the glow of a standing O. Likewise, later outside the theater, members of the press push and shove with the public to get a close-up view of the larger-than-life Valentin. One of those in the madhouse scene is an extremely cute young thang, Peppy Miller (the lovable Berenice Bejo), who accidentally bumps into Valentin when she stoops to fetch her dropped purse off the sidewalk. George is smitten when he sees who's bumped him, and they momentarily give each other an impromptu smile and a hug. The newspaper photographers capture that fleeting moment, and the picture of the embrace is all over the Hollywood papers the next day under the headline, "Who Was That Girl?"
Peppy is an aspiring actress, and realizing this might be her only "fifteen seconds of fame," she maneuvers in certain circles to let the powers-that-be know that it is she, Peppy, who was the girl in the widespread photo. Sure, you might call her conniving, but she is so darn cute that we, instead, are going to say she's savvy. It also doesn't hurt that she is a terrific dancer. She gets a few bit parts in movies, and before long she has worked her way up the list of credits to the point that she becomes a leading lady. She and George have kept in contact, but he is married, albeit unhappily, and she is busy becoming a new celebrity.
Flash forward two years, and the age of silent films is on the wane. Valentin doesn't want to believe it, and turns up his nose when producer Al Zimmer (John Goodman) advises him of that fact. Meanwhile, Peppy embraces the chance to get in on the cutting edge of this new technology, talkies! Her career is on the fast track, while George's is in a free fall, both in terms of his work and his personal life. Can the relationship between George and Peppy, however you want to label it, survive this disparity? What will become of George? He was Peppy's mentor; now he's a has-been. Is this melodrama headed for an unhappy ending?
There is not much to quibble with when evaluating this movie. Dujardin is absolutely outstanding with his ability to use facial expressions and body language to convey his thoughts without the aid of dialogue. That is acting in its purest form. He is old enough to portray a Hollywood icon, yet young enough to be believable as a potential romantic interest of Peppy. Bejo is perfect for her part as well. When she is on the screen it's hard to look elsewhere. The role calls for her to show a wide range of emotions, and she is able to do just that seemingly effortlessly. I loved the musical score which, as you might expect for a film with almost no dialogue, is a key ingredient. The worst thing I can say about "The Artist" is that it is a little too schmaltzy, particularly in the last reel, but that minor beef is not enough to keep me from giving it an A.
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