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Redmen ready for postseason after demolition of Ottawa

by Gabe Polver, Sean Wood, John Hui, Shawn Stenhouse, Adam Sadinsky on

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The Redmen came out flying on Saturday night at McConnell Arena, dominating the Ottawa Gee-Gees at both ends of the ice en route to a 9-0 trouncing. With both teams’ playoff fates already sealed before the opening face-off – McGill in, Ottawa out – the Redmen were able to use the game as a tune-up, and judging by their performance, they’ll be able to enter the postseason with some much-needed confidence and momentum.

“Since we came back from our long trip at Christmas time, we’ve had a really hectic schedule and we went into an energy dump,” said Redmen Head Coach Jim Webster. “I’m most happy that we’re coming out of that.”

Puck possession was the name of the game for McGill, as the Redmen controlled the play throughout most of the first period. A strong and structured defensive game plan helped the Redmen severely limit Ottawa’s time on the attack.

Junior forward Simon Marcotte-Legare opened the scoring less than four minutes into the first stanza. Not long after, sophomore forward Maxime Langelier-Parent beat Gee-Gee netminder Riley Whitlock five hole for McGill’s second goal. The Redmen would score twice more in the period, including an impressive backhander from a near-impossible angle by junior left-winger Evan Vossen.

In a game that was out of Ottawa’s reach from early on, the Gee-Gees found a way to vent their frustration in the third period. The gritty play and constant presence of McGill’s Guillaume Doucet in front of the Gee-Gee net drew the ire of a few Ottawa players, who ganged up on the alternate captain late in the game. Ottawa’s physicality intensified late in the third, resulting in a slew of Gee-Gee penalties and a series of extended five-on-three power plays for the Redmen.

“[Doucet’s] a skilled guy and he’s had a very good year,” said Webster.

While Webster was reluctant to attribute Saturday night’s success to any one player, the evening clearly belonged to sophomore right-winger Francis Verreault-Paul.

Verreault-Paul shone on the power-play late in the game, as he netted the team’s eighth and ninth goals of the night, including a blistering slap shot from the face-off circle. Going into Saturday’s game, Verreault-Paul found himself three points behind Francis Charland of UQTR in the scoring race. With three goals and an assist on the night, the Mashteuiatsh native took over sole possession of the top spot for both goals and points in the OUA.

Verreault-Paul was on the ice for most of the game, even when the team was up by a considerable margin, but Webster has firsthand experience with winning a scoring title, and was quick to point out the significance the record can have on a team going into the playoffs.

“I won the scoring title [when I played for McGill] on the last game of the season, right in this building,” he said. “I think [Verreault-Paul] appreciated that I tried to help him as much as I could. You don’t win the scoring championship every year.”

Despite one player making the record books, not everything went according to plan for Webster and his team. After playing a disciplined game, the Redmen let their emotions boil over in the final minutes of a third period that was filled with scrums and cheap shots. 104 penalty minutes were handed out in the final period, including two misconducts, three game misconducts, and a hit after the whistle on Verreault-Paul after he scored McGill’s ninth goal. Webster will be content with the end result so long as he has all his players in uniform come playoff time.

“I was happy right up until the last scrum,” said Webster. “[If we end up missing guys] it will weaken our team.”

The Redmen now turn their attention to the Nipissing University Lakers, who they will face in the OUA quarterfinals next week. Game One is scheduled for Wednesday at 7 p.m.

Arts & Entertainment, Books

Colm Tóibín, the award-winning Irish writer, on crafting prose

by Theo Meyer on

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Colm Tóibín is a writer fascinated by other writers.

Tóibín, the award-winning Irish journalist and author, first considered writing a novel after reading the work of other journalists who wrote fiction: Ernest Hemingway, Joan Didion, Norman Mailer, and V.S. Naupaul. His fifth novel, The Master, details the life of Henry James, the expatriate American writer.

On Thursday, Tóibín delivered a lecture at McGill on another great Irish author, Oscar Wilde, and his experiences in prison. As he spoke about Wilde, Tóibín displayed an almost-encyclopedic knowledge of the writer’s flamboyant life and tragic end. This is a man who clearly loves writers.

But writing hasn’t always come easily to Tóibín, who described crafting prose as a tentative process, full of trial and error. He began writing poetry at age 12 and had a few of his poems published as a teenager. But by the time Tóibín got to university, other students’ verse was eclipsing his own.

“I would send them out to serious magazines,” he says, “and they would just send them back.”

Discouraged, Tóibín (whose full name is pronounced CULL-um toe-BEAN) gave up on poetry and became a journalist with Magill, an Irish newsmagazine.

“I learned a lot through journalism about writing: about writing for an audience, about writing clearly,” he says. “I did that. And then an idea for a first novel came to me.”

That novel, which Tóibín spent years writing on weekends and holidays while continuing to work as a journalist, eventually became The South. Tóibín spent another two years searching for a publisher. At one point, his agent suggested he shelve the manuscript and begin work on a second novel. Tóibín began a second book, but found it difficult to write.

“Eventually a small publisher in London published The South, and by that time I had enough work on the second book to keep going,” he says. “And then it was just the slow business of reducing the hours as a journalist, upping the hours as a novelist.”

In the years since, Tóibín has published six novels, a play, and several other books. Two of his novels, The Blackwater Lightship and The Master, have been shortlisted for Britain’s prestigious Man Booker Prize, and his most recent one, Brooklyn, made the longlist.

Some of this success, Tóibín says, is due to his background as a journalist.

“Journalism is very useful in that you’re always working toward creating flavour, creating rhythm, beginnings and ends, holding the reader,” he says. “And therefore, when you were writing an actual chapter, you were aware that you needed some of the same things there.”

Though Tóibín writes his book reviews and magazine articles on a computer, he prefers writing his novels longhand, scrawling passages in notebooks in black fountain pen.

“I’m not sure it really makes any difference in the end, but at the beginning it does,” he says. “Especially if you use ink, and you can actually see it and smear it.”

Tóibín is, without question, an Irish author. Though he currently lives in New York and teaches at Princeton, his Irish accent is strong and his novels consistently deal with Irish themes.

His position at Princeton – which follows academic appointments at Stanford and the University of Texas at Austin – enables Tóibín to keep himself fresh, allowing him to formulate ideas that feed back into his own work. As for instructing students, he says, Tóibín emphasizes the use of detail, as well as the avoidance of cliché.

“Every sort of writing can always be improved by rewriting,” he says. “And every idea that you have – maybe there’s another idea that’s better. For example, if you have a stepfather in a story and the stepfather’s really mean and horrible, it’s really worth saying to the student, ‘Have you thought of making him really nice and good?'”

For all the critical acclaim his work has accrued, however, Tóibín is still reluctant to describe novel writing as his profession: “A novelist is not the word because you’re not a novelist – you just write novels sometimes.”

Arts & Entertainment, Film and TV

Valentine’s Day sucks

by Kailan Leung on

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On Friday, I lost a bet with an A&E editor. Two days later, I was by myself, waiting in a long line of moon-eyed couples at the AMC Forum, ready to review Garry Marshall’s newest film, Love, Actually II. Wait, no, that was the working title. I mean Valentine’s Day, starring everyone you would expect.

I know I’m not alone in characterizing Valentine’s Day as the most confusing, arbitrary and – for single people – downright frustrating “holiday” of the year. So when forced to cover the film, I thought, “Great, a chance to assert my independence and challenge the establishment.” But when I finally arrived at the front of the line to buy my ticket, I caved.

“Bonjour. How many?”

“Two,” I said, reflexively. “Also, two Mars bars, and some popcorn … jumbo-size … for my … girlfriend.”

Thirty dollars. Worth it.

The only pair of seats I managed to scout out were near the screen, but whatever. I placed my jacket on the seat next to me, whipped out my phone, and molded my face into an anxious, unhappy frown. The couple to my right looked at me quizzically. I talked to my phone for a while, lambasting it for being late and patiently explaining the difference between my left and its left. Then the lights dimmed, I let out an exasperated sigh, and settled in with my popcorn.

The movie was OK; it was what everyone in the audience – minus the guy dating an empty seat and a pile of junk food – wanted to see. However, Jessica Alba should never have gone blonde, and there’s something about Bradley Cooper’s face and mannerisms that induce both my gag reflex and a splitting headache. With that said, I thought Jamie Foxx and Jennifer Garner did the best they could with a mediocre screenplay.

I wish I could say more, but I left before the movie ended. Things were working out for the characters on-screen, my seatmates were becoming more and more romantically involved, and there was still time left to buy a bottle of wine and download a couple episodes of One Tree Hill before going to bed.

 

Arts & Entertainment

Revamping spoken word

by Brittany Rappaport on

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It’s hard to imagine how rewriting the lyrics to a Fat Boys song into his own beat-box symphony at the age of nine could lead C.R. Avery to where he is today.

Currently on his Dead of Winter cross-Canada tour, backed by The Legal Tender String Quartet, you could say that Avery is in his element – his storytelling/harmonica-playing/beat-boxing element. Or you could say that Avery’s passion lies with music, fronting the rock ‘n’ roll band The Boom Chasers. Or maybe it’s poetry that drives him, as he contributes to spoken word trio Tons of Fun University. Either way, Avery can do it all.

“If I’m going to stick around and play every night, it better be good,” says Avery. And it is. There is no genre classification for this piano, harmonica, and harp player. If great musicians are said to have deep pockets, Avery’s wearing cargo pants. As he developed as an artist, a move to the West Coast introduced him to the slam poetry scene in cities like Seattle and San Francisco. For someone who used to be “a kid juked up on Dylan,” he found his voice in spoken word, which gave him the ability to mix music and emotion.

“You hear it and see people put everything on the line. It wasn’t just, ‘Oh yeah my girlfriend left me,’ it was why she left me and what the feelings were,” says Avery. Slam poetry venues became a second home to him, allowing him to see the smooth blend of music and poetry together, and serving as the inspiration for his own lyric and poetic creations.

“I grew up in a time where going town to town playing coffee houses didn’t exist. But then with slam poetry, all of a sudden I could go to New York and play four different venues and hear all of these spoken word artists from that town,” says Avery.

Canada wasn’t far behind. Since then, the Canadian spoken-word scene has taken off, as slam poetry has been embraced in cities like Winnipeg, Calgary, Halifax, and Montreal.

Avery blurs the lines between genres with his emotional and thought-provoking music, which has been compared to huge names such as Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, and Neil Young, who he has already covered with his electrifying beat-boxing skills.

“I’ll hear something they do and it keeps me inspired to keep going,” says Avery. He name-drops Corin Raymond, Lucinda Williams, and Mary Gauthier, seemingly unaware that he’s well on his way to living up to these legends.

If Avery’s accomplishments are any indication of what’s to come, he’s here to offer some promising material. He’s already working on an upcoming project which includes a 45-piece orchestra and a 30-piece choir.

“The only thing I’ve got is putting on a new show … it comes down to music that people feel, and the word people react to in a positive or negative way. But at least it’s stirring up some kind of emotion.”

C.R. Avery plays with his string quartet at The Green Room on February 27.

Arts & Entertainment, Music

CD REVIEWS: Four Tet: There Is Love In You

by Alex Hamilton on

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The fifth full-length album from British electronic musician Kieran Hebden (better known as Four Tet), isn’t a dramatic departure from his earlier work. Nor will it disappoint fans of Four Tet’s already well-established oeuvre. The album is barely over 45 minutes long and undemanding enough to not need your full attention. Its sound is minimalistic, evoking the early work of ambient electronic musicians like Aphex Twin, with basic drum lines and Hebden’s signature use of samples from a range of musical genres. The influence of Hebden’s recent collaborations with jazz drummer Steve Reich and electronic producer Burial can be heard, however Hebden’s early use of folk samples remains less pronounced.

The album will doubtless have its detractors, particularly among those hoping Four Tet would move in a new direction. The tracks are mainly instrumental, the nine-minute single “Love Cry” takes half its length to really get going, and the 12-second “Pablo’s Heart” consists of what we can only assume is the sound of a heartbeat. But despite the apparent simplicity of There Is Love In You, there is more going on beneath the surface than meets the eye. Hebden’s thoughtful tracks all project sorrow and melancholy, but also a strange hopefulness¬. From the ethereal buildup of the vocal samples on “Angel Echoes” to the rainy day melody lines in “She Just Likes To Fight,” TILIY is the kind of album you just want to keep listening to.

Arts & Entertainment, Film and TV

Horror flop The Wolfman begs for a silver bullet

by Sam Jessula on

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In cinema, there’s always a fine line between the supernatural and the ridiculous, and the best horror films flirt with this boundary without crossing it. Unfortunately, director Joe Johnston’s The Wolfman was less than tactful in his approach to the werewolf genre, and the film ends up resembling more of a farce than a truly scary movie.

The movie focusses on Lawrence Talbot (Benicio del Toro) who, after hearing of his brother’s most unnatural death, returns home to his estranged family’s residence. Talbot reunites with his father (Anthony Hopkins) with whom he has serious daddy issues, and meets his brother’s widow, the incredibly attractive Gwen Conliffe (Emily Blunt). After a violent encounter with a wolf-like creature, Talbot is bitten and, in turn, becomes the Wolfman, a hairy beast that has an uncontrollable urge to murder people and feast on their remains. As the movie unfolds he struggles with his violently conflicting identities, his haunting past, and his growing emotions for Gwen. If the plot sounds oddly familiar, it’s not only because the film is a remake of the 1941 classic The Wolf Man, but because the entire movie can be summarized as Wolverine meets Legends of the Fall.

The movie posits itself as a metaphor for man’s dark side, though it’s a long shot to claim we all have a werewolf in us waiting to be unleashed. Sure, it’s interesting to see Jekyl struggle against Hyde, but The Wolfman‘s exploration of human duality doesn’t have the same depth and sincerity that even The Hulk contained.

To be fair, the cinematography is impressive and the rendition of the Victorian Gothic is quite successful and creates an atmosphere of fear in ominous rural England. Unfortunately, that sense of fear stays on the screen, as even timid members of the audience are left unshaken.

The movie’s biggest failure is that it is unable to grasp the audience’s emotions. This may be due in part to how accustomed we’ve become to the classic monsters, but it seems mostly due to the film’s refusal to abide by any monster-film conventions. Although sometimes clichéd, these common plot devices exist for a reason, and challenging all of them is not anti-mainstream, it’s just poor directing. For example, showing the monster 30 seconds after the opening credits takes away the build up and shock value any monster movie relies on. After this, all the film had to rely on were loud noises and jump-outs as scare tactics. Although flinch-inducing, they lack the ability to grasp your psyche and instill psychological fear.

The gore component of the film is so over-the-top that it causes the film to resemble horror satires rather than horror classics. It’s a shame that Hopkins couldn’t tap into his Hannibal Lecter repertoire and instruct the director on how suggested evil can transmit much more panic than a literal bloodbath.

The one gem that shines through is the acting. Blunt and Del Toro do well with what they’ve been given. However, Hugo Weaving’s portrayal of the meticulous Scotland Yard inspector is gripping and much scarier than the wolfman itself. Hopkins effortlessly performs the perfect dark and malicious father figure, reminiscent of his previous evil geniuses.

Johnston, whose previous works include Jumanji, Jurassic Park III, and Honey, I Shrunk the Kids should probably stick to kids films, as his attempt at adult horror creates more yawns than terrified howls.

The Wolfman plays at AMC Forum 22.

Arts & Entertainment, Music

A group of Jolly Rogers take the stage in The Pirates of Penzance

by Alex Hamilton on

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The McGill Savoy Society’s presentation of The Pirates of Penzance both delights and entrances the audience with light-hearted charm.

The Pirates of Penzance, or, The Slave of Duty is a late 19th-century comic opera, featuring the work of Gilbert & Sullivan. The hilarious portrayal of Victorian sensibilities and fanciful situations remains something of a cult phenomenon – similar in many ways to Monty Python’s dry British humour.

The satirical musical tells the tale of the dutiful Frederick (Michael Loewen), a young man who has been accidentally apprenticed to a crew of cheerfully singing pirates. The comedy begins when Frederick turns 21 and is liberated from his apprenticeship, at which point he responsibly decides to turn on his old comrades. However, before he has time to enlist help, Frederick encounters the beautiful daughters of Major General Stanley, who succeed in enchanting both him and the rest of his old crew. Madness and hilarity ensue as the pirates try to wed the daughters, forcing Frederick and the Major General to work together in order to prevent them from carrying the daughters away.

A few skilled lead actors control the performance, so the majority of the cast’s average acting abilities do little to detract from the audience’s enjoyment. In particular, the stage is dominated by the talented Rebecca Woodmass in the role of Mabel, Frederick’s main love interest. Strong performances from McGill Savoy President Cameron MacLeod (as the Major General), Loewen, and Erin Grainger (as Ruth) also shine as they convincingly portray often-ridiculous characters. But the gusto of the chorus sections is what carries The Pirates of Penzance; people will find it hard not to sing along to catchy musical numbers like “I Am the Very Model of a Modern Major General” and “Hush! Hush! Not a Word!” Despite having almost 30 people onstage during certain dance numbers, the opera manages not to degenerate into confusion, which is evidence of almost five full months of gruelling rehearsals.

Backing the cast is an enormous orchestral section, conducted by McGill composition student Michal Novotny. The orchestra had the tendency to drown out soloists – especially during the first act – however, the degree of coordination with the singers is impressive. One hopes that as the musicians adapt their playing to the acoustics of Moyse Hall, they will adjust their volume accordingly.

But music aside, the technical aspects make this production of Penzance unique. Set designer Melanie Michaud created backdrops with a two-dimensional storybook effect in mind, evoking a vaguely Oriental feel. For costumes and lighting, bright, vivid colours were used to reflect the cheerful mood of the story, and the cast’s wardrobe was cleverly designed so the daughters had colour-coordinated hats and dresses to reflect their ordered character, while the pirates had mismatched outfits to mirror their disordered nature.

However, Patterson’s skilled technical work and his creative team are not what make this show a delight. Nor is the music the reason why you leave Moyse Hall with a spring in your step. What drives this show is the boundless enthusiasm and flawless comedic timing of the chorus section, who have slaved endlessly to present an incredibly enjoyable performance.

Pirates of Penzance plays February 12-13 and 18-12 in Moyse Hall. Tickets are $12 for students and can be reserved at mcgillsavoy.ca.

Arts & Entertainment

POP RHETORIC: A Show of Patriotism

by Bianca Van Bavel on

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As the Vancouver Winter Olympics get underway, Canada’s national pride is glowing with the prospect of success. After months of commercials and merchandise sales leading up to the games. the moment we’d all been waiting for finally came. Given the fatal crash of Georgian luger Nodar Kumaritashvili earlier that day, the mood was both respectfully sombre and giddy with excitement for the upcoming games. Two out of three Canadians watched at least part of the ceremonies, and 33 million US viewers tuned in as 96 countries were welcomed to British Columbia, entering the stadium parading flags and athletes.

The ceremonies that followed, according to some, were disastrous and embarrassing. Indeed, pundits agreed, Canada had managed to start off these Olympic Games on the wrong foot. But I disagree whole-heartedly.

For those of you who may have missed the ceremonies, there was a technical problem near the end of the show that left a bitter aftertaste in the mouths of many. Canadian legends Wayne Gretzky, Steve Nash, Catriona Lemay Doan, and Nancy Greene all partook in the traditional final leg and lighting of the indoor Olympic cauldron. However, a delayed rising of a final column prevented the lighting from working as planned. I choose to ignore that an estimated $40 million spent on the ceremonies ended in technical blunders and instead look at the positive side of things: it was nowhere near Beijing’s bill of more than $100 million spent on their ceremonies.

There will always be glitches and people will always screw up somehow – let’s not forget Beijing’s little-girl lip-synching catastrophe. Our response to our failings – in true Canadian fashion – should be that we look at the bright side and continue to give it our best.

The torch malfunction was a disappointment, but when you have such national talent and pride coming together to show the world what our country represents, there is only a wonderful moment to be shared. The show overall was a success. The special effects were wonderful, with outstanding displays of lights and artistic installations. The stage was elaborately transformed from the Rocky Mountains to a vast ocean of whales, and sprouting redwoods and colourful displays of Northern Lights filled the stadium. The show glittered with flying skiers, stomping tappers, and talented musical delights from some of Canada’s best musicians, including Sarah McLachlan, Bryan Adams, Nelly Furtado, and newly acclaimed Montreal-born Nikki Yanovsky. Notable celebrities and athletes of both past and present celebrated on the international stage in welcoming the world to our shores, making me proud of Canadian talent.

The ceremonies had a unique flare and creativity, with beautiful incorporations of heritage and history that captured the very essence of our nation’s pride.

In response to those naysayers doubting whether we can we live up to all this hype, the answer is that we can. I believe that the bar has been raised and set by Canada, and this shows our success. I, for one, have always loved the Olympics and the publicity they bring; my TV will be on in the background and tuned to CTV coverage of the events 24/7 for the next two weeks. To the best of our abilities – with glowing hearts and true patriot love – let’s welcome the world and show them what Canada is really made of.

Sports

Martlets eliminated from postseason play after sixth straight loss

by Kailan Leung on

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For the first three months of the season, the McGill women’s volleyball team looked virtually unstoppable. With a pair of five-game winning streaks, steady appearances in the CIS Top-10, and depth at every position, a deep run at Nationals seemed inevitable. But in every sport, there is always the danger of peaking too soon. The Martlets struggled mightily in the second half of the season, and were eliminated from the QSSF playoffs – and by default, a Nationals berth – after back-to-back thrashings at the hands of the Laval Rouge et Or over the weekend.

What started out as an emotional, high-energy affair at Love Competition Hall on Friday night quickly deteriorated into a Martlet meltdown, with missed serves, botched covers, and weak blocks allowing Laval to take the first set, 21-25.

“I think [we lacked] communication a little bit,” said all-Canadian power-hitter Jennifer Thomson. “It was loud in the gym, we started off strong with it, but we needed to keep it going through the entire match. We started off strong picking up a lot of balls, but it kind of deteriorated.”

Serving was perhaps the biggest thorn in McGill’s side on Friday night, as the Martlets committed 10 service errors while failing to register a single ace. Kelsey Irwin – a senior middle blocker and arguably the team’s most consistent offensive threat – suffered a knee injury earlier in the month that forced her to miss time, and was visibly slowed against Laval. While Irwin still managed to lead the Martlets in kills and points with 13, the 5-foot-11 Vancouver native was not her usual self on the defensive end.

“Obviously, it does hurt not to have Kelsey [at full strength],” said Thomson.

The Rouge et Or wasted no time in the second and third sets asserting themselves on offence, alternately sending hard balls down the line and cross-court to frustrate McGill’s back-row defence. The Martlets registered 68 digs to Laval’s 48 – a clear indicator of which team played the role of aggressor. McGill showed signs of a comeback in the third set, but successive kills by Laval’s Melanie Savoie quickly snuffed out the home squad’s winning aspirations.

The Martlets had a shot at redemption on Saturday afternoon, but could not raise their level of play on the road, falling to Laval once again in straight sets. Freshman power-hitter Olivia Grecu led the team with 11 kills. The defeat marked the sixth straight loss for the Martlets – an ending to their season no one could have predicted a few months ago.

“Yes, we have to admit that it is disappointing – there’s no denying it,” said Thomson. “But we need to gulp it down and take the next step.”

The next step for the Martlets will have to come without the guidance of Thomson, the team’s brightest star for a number of years. And although Thomson’s legacy will be hard to duplicate, McGill boasts a number of young and talented players who have shown that they are more than capable of contributing at the CIS level. While the weekend may not have ended in the fashion they had hoped, the Martlets can take comfort in the qualities that they retained throughout the course of the year: character, camaraderie, and a toughness that is sure to carry over to next season.

Behind the Bench, Sports

THIRD MAN IN: The NBA Cares?

by Kailan Leung on

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There are a number of words and phrases that we can use to describe the embarrassment that was the NBA Dunk Contest on Saturday night: worst of all time; forgettable; pathetic; mind-bogglingly bad. With a lineup featuring zero legitimate stars, and two players averaging less than 22 minutes per game, the event that many suspected was on wobbly legs finally came crashing down. While the dunking itself was painful to watch – as was the obvious disinterest painted on a number of the contestants’ faces – what infuriates me more is the NBA’s failure to follow through on a smart and simple idea from one of its most respected statesmen.

A little less than a month ago, Shaquille O’Neal had a plan in place to rejuvenate All-Star Weekend while dishing out an assist to arguably the neediest place in the world: bring the League’s biggest superstars into the dunk contest, build up a substantial pot of prize money, and donate at least half of the winnings to earthquake-ravaged Haiti. Shaq specifically called out Kobe Bryant and Vince Carter to join LeBron James in providing fans with a dunk contest that would be truly unforgettable, and undoubtedly generate a large amount of money to aid in Haitian relief efforts. If Shaq’s proposal sounded brilliant, it’s because it was. But trust the stereotypes of the self-centred athlete and greedy corporate owner to once again push themselves to the fore, and swiftly extinguish any hope of making All-Star Weekend about something far greater than basketball.

What troubles me nearly as much as the fact that O’Neal’s proposal never came to fruition is the response it elicited from some of the would-be contestants. In a video interview after a Lakers’ practice, a reporter asks Kobe if he would consider dunking for Shaq’s initiative. His response? A burst of laughter and a stone-faced “no.” Similarly, Carter protested that “[nobody] should feel obligated to do anything they don’t want to do.” No, Vince, but you certainly should feel obligated to use your status as a world-renowned professional athlete to provide help to those suffering in the wake of catastrophe.

NBA Commissioner David Stern never commented on the dunk-contest idea, likely because he has spent most of his working life in professional sports, and could already predict the massive effort it would take to make Shaq’s proposal a reality. Regardless of any imagined difficulties, though, the NBA’s refusal to take the initiative on this project was and is very disturbing. At a time when NBA owners and officials are constantly bemoaning the plummeting economy and lack of money available to the League, this weekend’s All-Star blowout in Dallas was a gross display of extravagance and wealth. The amount of effort – both human and financial – needed to stage a star-spangled dunk-contest to benefit Haiti would be negligible in comparison to any of the productions that took place over the weekend.

It is morally reprehensible that the players and administration of the NBA either laughed off or ignored Shaq’s idea. When a professional sports organization has the opportunity to save lives and build futures, it needs to jump at the chance, no matter how old, tired, or cynical its legs are. We should applaud O’Neal for attempting to carve a space for humanitarian action in a profession dominated by apathy and avarice. It’s highly unfortunate that the League could not see All-Star Weekend as a chance to do anything more than fill seats and promote its brand. Great job, NBA, you really dropped the ball on this one.

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