In 2010, the richest college football programs in the game profited a grand total of over $1.1 billion collectively. This is an over 10% increase from the year prior, and has universities chirping about which direction to move in order to snag a larger piece of this enormous revenue pie in college athletics. To stay or to go, that has become the question. Allow me to introduce to you, the NCAA Realignment Trap. Like it or loathe it, changes are certainly on the horizon:
It’s been nearly a year since the big announcement of the “Pac-12”, yet still to this day I find myself saying “Pac-10” when having a conversation discussing college football. When I first heard about the University of Colorado and the University of Utah joining the conference, I was adamant that the Pac-10’s new name should be simplified, dropping the number altogether to play it safe. Call it the “Pacific Conference,” because who knows when the next university will come knocking on our commissioner’s door ready to join up. Turns out, it’s looking like I was correct.
However, the Pac-12 is not the only conference that could look different when the season kicks off in 2012.
After the announcement surfaced that Texas A&M will officially be leaving the Big-12 for the SEC after this season, rumors and speculation began swirling that the Big-12 may not survive after their departure. Could a Domino Effect really kill off an entire conference? Many college football analysts are predicting that this will in fact happen if other universities choose to follow suit and leave the Big-12 in the dust for other conferences.
Oklahoma and Oklahoma State to the Pac-12? Texas to the ACC? Baylor to the Big East? Florida State is reemerging as a powerhouse yet again, will they move elsewhere? After being independent since 1978, are the Notre Dame Fighting Irish contemplating joining a Super-conference in the making?
So many questions, yet so few answers. If only NCAA brass would step up and admit that discussion on conference realignment is distracting fans and players from what really matters, the game. The forefront of discussion should never be about what is happening outside-the-lines, yet that is exactly what has been going on thus far this season. Unfortunately, time is definitely money and college football is undoubtedly a business when all is said and done.
As the waiting game continues, you might as well have something to read. Stay informed on the latest conference shuffling with the NCAA Realignment Trap. Play on!
It’s a game for the ages. Rarely do two top-five (preseason-ranked) teams knock helmets the first game of the season. In fact, the last time it happened, I wasn’t even born yet. In 1984, the #1 Auburn Tigers took on the #4 Miami Hurricanes at Giants Stadium in New York. It’s been 27 years since a game of this magnitude has opened the college football season. With NCAA championship implications clearly on the line, it will be a heavyweight matchup between the #3 Oregon Ducks and the #4 LSU Tigers.
First up, let’s break down my alma mater, the mighty Oregon Ducks (click the image for content!):
For Oregon, it has been a tumultuous off-season for everybody. The football program has been actively investigated by the NCAA nearly all summer long, and a dark cloud of suspicion has been hovering over Eugene ever since. But Oregon also has questions to answer on the field if they wish to be successful against a vicious SEC defense that the Tigers will surely bring to the table. Oregon will have to replace both starting wide-receivers, and a large chunk of leadership at the offensive and defensive linemen positions. Fortunately for Oregon, they bring back their dual-threat Heisman contenders: their lethal quarterback Darron Thomas and runningback sensation LaMichael James. After losing a heartbreaker in the national title game last January, and then facing a barrage of off-the-field scrutiny soon after, there is no doubt the Ducks are anxious to storm the field today.
The LSU Tigers are chomping at the bit as well:
The Tigers had once been coined a surefire national title contender mid-summer entering the season. But less than two weeks before their matchup with Oregon, the national perception on the Tigers drastically took a turn for the worse. On August 19th, senior starting quarterback Jordan Jefferson allegedly took part in an altercation outside Shady’s bar, a popular college joint just off of LSU’s campus. The facts to this day remain hazy, with speculation swirling on both sides of the story. If you haven’t heard about it, it’s quite the read, click here! Regardless of what really happened, Jefferson eventually was suspended indefinitely from the team, and charged with felony battery. The Tigers will now have to adjust to using a quarterback–senior, Jarrett Lee–that never could’ve imagined he would be getting the start to begin the season. The sudden jolt to the program has the Tigers’ offense angry, the defense feeling ferocious and a massive LSU crowd ready to roar.
The teams will meet today at 8:00PM ET on a neutral field in Texas, known as “Cowboys Stadium.” Win, or lose, the season won’t end for either team when the clock finally ticks down to zero. Follow these teams all season long, with the Oregon Ducks Trap, and the LSU Tigers Trap. Let the Cowboy Classic begin! May the best team win.
-Geoff (Go Ducks!)
Chicago Bears fans might want to direct their eyes away from the computer screen. Today’s feature trap showcases none other than the defending Superbowl champion, Green Bay Packers. Round of applause, please, for the champs.
This past Thursday, the NFL season kicked off with an absolute bang with two high-octane offenses putting on a show, displaying very few signs of off-season rust. The matchup between the New Orleans Saints and the home-team Packers came down to the final play as the Saints were stuffed on a goal line stand with no time remaining on the game clock. Lambeau field erupted in synchronized jubilation as Saints running back Mark Ingram was gang-tackled just inches away from giving his team a chance to send it into overtime. It was one of those moments in sports that inevitably sends a shock wave of chills streaming down ones spine.
I sat there and watched as NBC cameras panned outward to show Packer fans basking in the moment. I thought to myself, this truly is the personification of what a fanbase is supposed to represent. As a neutral sports fan watching the game, I couldn’t help but hop on the Packer bandwagon. The historic traditions, the immovable allegiance and the noise that cascades out of that stadium is second-to-none in American sports. Believe it.
It all started with the game’s introduction. Fans were asked to arrive early in order to pull off a crowd spectacle that rarely seems to strike success when other organizations try a similiar stunt. Everyone needed to be in their seat, but no worries, Green Bay hasn’t failed to sell out a game in over half a century. During the national anthem, this was the aerial sight to be seen from above the field:
No other franchise could pull this off. Bathroom breaks were taken care of, the beer gardens were empty and the silence during the national anthem was absolutely bone-chilling.
By the time the broadcast had finished up on national television, it looked as if there hadn’t been a single fan that had left its seat. Their team had dazzled up-and-down the field for four quarters and the fans stuck around to show their appreciation. This is what fan culture is all about folks.
Rest assured, I will be following the Packers Trap all season long. They won me over in a heartbeat.
It’s National Parks month and today’s trap of the day is the National Parks Trap.
In this trap you’ll find Timothy Egen’s recent op/ed in the New York Times about safety and personal responsibility in our National Parks. The article is spurred by a three fold increase in deaths in Yosemite this year (16 so far) and litigation surrounding the mauling death of a hiker by mountain goat last year. Egen highlights how disconnected many Americans are from the wilderness and makes the case that nature is dangerous and no amount of warnings, signs, or fencing can change that.
This sort of opinionating to me seems a no-brainer, but the fact of the matter is we live in a country where many folks have grown up in an environment so disconnected from the wild part of wilderness as to expect unrealistic levels of security within it’s bounds. A country bumpkin who gets mugged on a dangerous urban street corner can’t sue the city or police for failing to prevent the attack but for some reason people expect higher levels of safety from parks, which are really much less regulated spaces than urban centers. Where does personal responsibility begin and to what extent are National Park rangers charged to keep us safe? How do you educate city/suburb dwellers on the potential dangers of nature without terrifying them (ala shark attack coverage)?
When I was in the 5th grade my teacher taught a wilderness survival course. We learned about edible (and poisonous) plants, started fires with sticks, made hypothetical survival kits, and even whittled knives and forks. I was taught how to to fight a mountain lion (be loud, tall and kick it in the stomach if you can) and to never run from a bear (be calm, stand your ground, play dead if it’s mauling you, and fight like hell if it starts to eat you). This sort of lesson planning was no doubt unique to my rural Washington school where regional black bear encounters were not entirely rare, but it was the sort of thing that taught me to respect and maintain a healthy, but not overwhelming, fear of what nature is capable of.
The kind of nature preserved in our national parks is not to be taken lightly or capable of being tamed. For a vignette into the history of the National Parks system, check out this archival image heavy post from the Smithsonian Visual Archives.
The newborn king of the NFL gridiron?
With the recent announcement that the first two weeks of the NBA season have officially been cancelled, the social media world has been set ablaze with rumors that LeBron James might be making a radical change in his professional career. And we are not taking about a trip overseas to play Euro hoops either. It has always been a dream on the back of King James’ mind to become a star performer in the NFL, and with the NBA lockout negotiations looking grimmer day-by-day, it’s starting to feel more realistic that the sports world will “WITNESS” LeBron in pads down the road this season.
But is it too good to be true…again? We all remember how he teased us two years ago with his Cleveland Browns commercial.
I was a huge doubter at first–like this guy–however, LeBron took it to a new level this past week tweeting at ESPN NFL analyst John Clayton inquiring what the NFL policy is on the free agency deadline. Well, LeBron, technically there isn’t one. He can sign whenever he should feel he is ready to make that transition. Professional experience, or not, NFL coaches will be licking their chops thinking about a chance to land an athletic specimen of LeBron’s stature. On top of that, he is a PR gold mine that would sell out any stadium regardless of a win-loss record. He is as big (or bigger) than the average defensive end, but as fast as the average wide receiver. Just thinking about what position he might play is thrilling to ponder and speculate.
The Seattle Seahawks’ coach Pete Carroll has even reached out to LeBron already, posting a photo on the web of a Seahawks jersey with “LeBron” stitched on the back. Although Carroll’s approach could be taken as humor, there is no doubt that his organization would take a shot at bringing him on, even if it happens late in the NFL season.
For LeBron, is it worth the risk? One of the first things Carroll asked him was, “are you aware what the league minimum is in the NFL?” LeBron snapped back at him, “more than what I’m making now Coach.”
Could this be just another classic LBJ publicity stunt, or is there validity to his aspirations? Follow the LeBron James’ NFL Dreams Trap as this saga continues to unfold.
As we’ve already established, I don’t always engage in the most high brow of activities when it comes to entertainment. I try to keep my life constructive, though, and since there is only so much statistics homework for me to do while half-watching episodes of “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills/Atlanta/New York/New Jersey,” I’ve taken up the hobby of nail art to keep myself productively occupied during TV time. And I’m certainly not the only one–the internet has increasingly been churning out stories, images, and tutorials of nail art, documenting its creativity from the runways of NY Fashion Week to the living rooms of enthusiastic DIY-ers.
While committing to professionally done nails can be pricey, nail art created at home can be a fairly inexpensive, and even easy, endeavor. With its seemingly endless potential for personalization, polish has a bit of something for everyone–it can be used to express support for a favorite sports team, profess love for a particular movie or TV show, or simply celebrate a current season or holiday. Those with more scientific inclinations can experiment with the curious powers of magnetic nail polish, or attempt to place the universe at their fingertips (my personal favorite, and a deceptively easy style to recreate). And though nail polish is still a product mostly segregated to the lives of women, instances of men showing off their own artistic nails have popped up as well (a fact that makes my gender-studies-loving, liberal-feminist-identifying heart beat extra happily).
The trend isn’t without its critics and non-believers, though, as one Jezebel writer bluntly puts it, “What is the point of nail art?” Given the highly temporary nature of nail polish, the art form definitely has its downsides (nothing like spending two hours painting tiny owls onto your nails only to try to open a bottle of ketchup later that day and have poor Thumb Owl’s feet peel completely away. First World Problems!). And the issue of why a trend that already has a long history in some subcultures is only gaining coverage now that it’s popular with middle-class white folks deserves its own round of articles entirely.
Still, to me nail art remains an easily-accessible promoter of female (and hopefully someday all-gender!) bonding, with the added bonus of pushing a popular cosmetic product away from its usual use as a tool of self-objectification and more towards a popular medium for self-expression. And the internet backs me up here, with one Jezebel commenter sharply summing up the issue by firing back, “What is the point of any art?”
A perfect philosophical question to contemplate while recreating van Gogh’s “Starry Night” in miniature on your thumbnail.
Watching the internet freak out about Lana Del Rey is a lot like watching that “30 Rock” episode on feminism: things get confusing, complicated and contradictory pretty quickly. And in the end, it seems like everyone kind of comes out worse for the wear.
The singer–birth name Elizabeth Grant–whose debut album as Lana Del Rey was preceded by an unusual amount of press and a highly dissed and dissected Saturday Night Live performance (the fact that anyone is outraged by being confronted with mediocrity when tuning in to SNL is kind of amazing to me), has shot to a sort of instant and infamous stardom. “Born to Die” was released last week to heavy criticism but high sales, and already the musician has been animated in Taiwan, analyzed as a Lynchian character, and made into an internet meme (an honor previously bestowed upon the likes of both Aretha Franklin and Princess Beatrice’s respective hats). And while Grant seems resigned to the criticism, I can’t help but feel a little more curious as to what the internet anger is all about, and whether or not it would be happening if Lana Del Rey were a man.
Because, to me, being Lana Del Rey seems to be a lot about what it means to be female in America. At every turn, Grant is met with some form of a double bind. We make a marked point of always commenting on her appearance, building up the idea that her beauty is of vital importance to her worth, only to get moralistic about the idea that she may have had plastic surgery to improve her looks. We call her out for manufacturing a new image after her attempts to find success as Lizzy Grant (aka herself) failed, and yet we only pay attention to her and her music once she has transformed into her current “Gangsta Nancy Sinatra” manifestation.We accuse her of being all smoke and mirrors, but act incredibly put upon when she has the audacity to be genuinely anxious and awkward onstage. And while I can recognize that Grant has made her own decisions in this game, I can’t imagine a move she could make at this point that wouldn’t garner criticism from some sector.
Which is not to say I’ve been transformed into Lana Del Rey’s biggest fan, nor that I disagree with the argument that there are more talented or deserving musicians out there that should be seen and heard as much as Grant (oh the meritocracy kool-aid: so delicious, so plentiful, and so likely to end in stand-offs and suicides). But I’m just not sure the value of Grant as a musician would be such a central issue were she male. And while I won’t be spending my money to witness Lana Del Rey perform awkwardly in person (I live in Portland, the awkwardness here is free), I will gladly accept her into the female musicians club if it means putting more highly visible images towards the normalization of women in music.
As the Entertainment section editor here at Trapit, I have had the immense pleasure of following many topics that tug at my personal heartstrings. Perhaps none so perversely as my Juggaloes trap.
I created this trap months ago, the objective being to create a resource wherein we could follow all the Juggalo-related news leading up to the much-anticipated Gathering of the Juggaloes.
What is the Gathering? Well, that’s a hard question to answer. In many ways, it is a celebration of Juggalo culture–that is, it prides itself on standing apart from larger, more corporately-owned festivals like Bonnaroo or Coachella. It was started 12 years ago by facepaint-clad rap-rock group ICP (Insane Clown Posse), and serves as a bastion for music, carnival events (ranging from Midway games to “drunk helicopter rides”) not to mention lots of people spraying each other with cheap soda and eating mass amounts of meat.
There are always some names on the bill that come as a surprise to outside observers, but I’d say that in the case of Gathering 2011, there are some real anomalies performing. For one thing, it is to be emceed by none other than the Tiger-blood-swilling, Goddess-possessing, career-imploding Charlie Sheen. It gets deeper, though, with household rap brands like Busta Rhymes, Ice Cube, Juvenile, and funk legend George Clinton slated to perform as well.
The icing on the cake is ICP’s promotion for the Gathering, which usually involves a couple 30-minute infomercials depicting ICP and other Juggalo minions (one you may recognize as Vanilla Ice) being distressed with the state of music in the US. This year, the budget must have been higher, because both infomercials were filmed in what looked to be pretty elaborate sets.
At this point, you may be asking yourself: “Is this a joke?” The answer is inarguably no. Is it ridiculous? Yes. Pretty irresponsible, especially in light of recent festival-related deaths at Bonnaroo earlier this year? Totally. But a joke? I’d hope that after 12 years of ICP having produced the event successfully, we can move beyond entitling it a “joke.” Indeed, to some, this is the only event of 2011 that truly matters.
Today’s sweeping craze in the Big Apple: Linsanity! Carmelo Anthony is out potentially two weeks with a groin injury? No problem. I’ll say it again: Linsanity!
I couldn’t believe my eyes the other day after receiving a text message from a friend of mine in New York City. He informed me that the New York Knicks’ crowd inside Madison Square Garden was chanting “M-V-P! M-V-P! M-V-P!”
For who??? …Wait, what–really?!
The New York crowd was brought to their feet dozens of times. Not by perennial All-star and Olympian Carmelo Anthony (or Crymelo as I prefer to call him). Not for highly-touted signee Amare Stoudemire, and definitely not for Tyson Chandler, the final member of Knicks’ self-invented, “big-three.”
The ovation was for the undrafted 23-year-old point guard, Jeremy Lin. In a matter of three NBA games, the rising star has won over the traditionally not-so-welcoming New York fan base. The Harvard grad finally earned the minutes on the basketball court he has been waiting for and has been putting up All-star caliber numbers ever since. It’s as if all he needed was the Broadway spotlight to finally settle on a place to shine.
Just three weeks ago Lin was playing in the developmental league for the Erie BayHawks, searching for motivation, and trying to compete in front of crowds with mediocre, high school basketball attendance rates. Apparently the Knicks caught wind that Lin has some serious skills, as word spread quickly that the young point guard racked up a triple-double for the BayHawks, scoring 28 points, to go along with 12 assists and 11 rebounds. Lin was called up to the Knicks three days later. He hasn’t looked back since and his numbers don’t lie.
On top of helping the Knicks reach a three-game win streak, Lin is also rapidly becoming one of the most-watched athletes in all of Asia. Even ESPN Philippines has reached out wanting to air Knicks games featuring the first ever American-born NBA player of Chinese or Taiwanese descent.
Lin will officially get his first monumental test as the ultra-competitive Los Angeles Lakers come to town tonight. Can he possibly maintain his numbers, or could the reality of his stardom be slightly inflated after all? For the record, Lin is the first player to score 20+ points, with at least eight assists in his first two NBA starts…since Lebron James did it eight years ago. Unreal!
Stay tuned, the Jeremy Lin show is just beginning to take off. For a better feel on the Linsanity craze, check out the Jeremy Lin Trap!
The New Year is upon us, and with it returns longings for springtime, plans for self-betterment, and a new season of MTV’s infamous reality series, “Jersey Shore.” As each new episode of the Shore airs, the internet surges with yet another wave of hand-wringing articles claiming the ways in which the show dumbs down its viewers, causes much-deserved shame in its audience, and promotes undereducated role models for our children. Though it may not be a popular stance in this culture of irony and irate-ness, I choose to instead profess my earnest affection for both “Jersey Shore” and its cast of fist-pumping, Jersey-turnpiking, constantly tanning characters.
I recognize, of course, the gawking appeal of the Shore and its inhabitants, and I make no attempt to argue against its value as borderline-sideshow entertainment. After all, where else can you watch a grown woman elatedly drink pickle juice straight from the jar, witness someone literally dancing her own underwear off in public, and satisfy your longstanding curiosity as to what Jake Gyllenhaal would look like if he took up competitive bodybuilding (quick answer: Snooki’s on-again, off-again boyfriend, Jionni)?
Beyond this, though, my love for “Jersey Shore” and its often alien-seeming inhabitants comes from the quieter, gentler moments, when I find myself relating to the cast as actual people. It is in these scenes where I can see my own goofiness in the Jersey boys’ original song for alerting the house as to what time it is (a habit my roommate and I have since adopted), recognize my best friend and I’s die-hard, sometimes dorky, relationship in the faithful bond between Snooki and JWoww, and even identify my own confusion as to how to deal with feelings of rejection and vulnerability in Ronnie’s tear-filled freak-outs over Sammi. Because as humiliating, humbling and humanizing as it can be to see ourselves in these Others, there’s something equally heartening in the knowledge that even “gorilla juiceheads” have difficult feelings, that even self-proclaimed “guidettes” struggle with our society’s infuriating double-standards, and that even someone who gets as much love from the ladies as Vinny does sometimes feels so lonely for his mom that it sends him into a panic.
For me, it’s not so much about what makes makes me or my life better/worse/different from the action at the “Jersey Shore,” it’s the things that make it all–and us all–surprisingly the same.