A Slow Parade

Sharks 4, Red Wings 3 (OT); Western Semifinals, 0-3

	A.A. Bondy - A Slow Parade .mp3
	Found at bee mp3 search engine

I suppose I could just link to this post from exactly one year ago. It's essentially the exact same thing.

One of the biggest cliches in this world is "all good things must come to an end." And as is the case with almost all cliches, it's a cliche because it's true. There is nothing in our lives that has an infinite lifespan. When we encounter something good, or even decent, something we deem to be worthwhile, even if we resist it at first, we eventually come to rely upon it, and we subconsciously do whatever we can to preserve it. We try with all our might to keep the decency in our lives, clinging to whatever joy we find in an otherwise cold world.

But it's irrelevant. The passage of time inevitably brings with it the winds of change. Regardless of what we do, sooner or later, the things we cherish slip through our hands, in some way or another. The most tragic among us witness the greatness fading away, while the blissfully ignorant remain blind to it until they realize it's gone. Either way, the end result is the same: we all feel the same emptiness when we lose something we held dear. We all feel the same pain in our hearts that accompanies the void that was once filled. In the end, all we have left are the memories we forged, the images we burn into our minds, and the sounds of a lost paradise that we use to fill the silence that dominates the present after what we loved has faded into the clouds of history.

For Red Wings fans, the past 20 years have instilled in us a righteous sense of superiority. We acquired the feeling that not a team in hockey could match the skill of the Red Wings, and if the Wings played "their" game, their precise execution would win the day. We never acknowledged the possibility that another team was actually "better" than us. In 2006, Edmonton wasn't "better", they simply employed the trap to suffocate the Wings' offense, a crutch used by a clearly inferior team. In 2007, Anaheim wasn't better, they had to resort to goonery and thug tactics to muscle their way past the Wings in the West Finals. In 2009, the Penguins weren't better, they were simply able to drag their bodies across the finish line just ahead of ours, because we had to endure injuries upon injuries and terrible officiating and the brutality of the Western Conference playoffs. Detroit fans have this romantic notion that if the Wings were in the Eastern Conference, we would've won every Stanley Cup since 1996.

I'm (mostly) exaggerating, of course, but the base point remains the same. By and large, we've never accepted the possibility of a team being better at what we do than us. But now, as we stare own the barrel of another elimination from San Jose, as we swallow the bitter pill of a seventh loss in the last eight playoff games against the Sharks, the reality is as obvious as it is painful: they are truly and genuinely better than the Red Wings. They're not deploying some gimmicky defense, nor are they taking advantage of pussy ass referees and pulverizing the Red Wings after every whistle. No, they're doing what the Red Wings have done for the majority of the last 20 years. They're dominating in the faceoff circle. They're winning the battles in the corners. They're backchecking and forechecking with relentless vigor, and for the most part they are destroying us in the special teams department as the Red Wings' penalty kill swirls the drain for the third year in a row under the incompetent eye of Brad McCrimmon - while former Red Wings assistant Todd McLellan dominates the Wings in the areas he himself built to elite status while in Detroit. Our own weapons, used against us. Beaten at our own game.

The reality we all want to ignore but can't deny now lies ahead of us, plain as day and right out in the open. The days of overbearing dominance by the Red Wings in the West is over. The mystique is no longer there. These same Sharks wilted away like spineless cowards in the face of the Winged Wheel four years ago when Robert Lang scored in the final minute to tie Game 4, a game the Red Wings would win in overtime to tie the series. The Wings dominated the next two games to eliminate the Sharks. For Michigan fans, this is a familiar experience. For 40 years, Michigan occupied the minds of the other Big Ten programs, a phenomenon we sometimes refer to as "Winged Helmet Paranoia." In that same vein, "Winged Wheel Paranoia" has enjoyed a reign of nearly two decades. And it's gone now. Teams don't fear the Red Wings anymore. The Sharks and Penguins have shattered the aura of invincibility that surrounded Joe Louis Arena since the early 90s. The mind games are gone, just as the last three years (some would certainly argue more than that) saw the mystique fade from Michigan football. Teams no longer fear coming into the Big House; just the opposite, in fact. They see it as an opportunity to exact vengeance for years of tyranny under the oppressive thumb of the Wolverines; a chance to snatch a pound of flesh 40 years in the making.

But the thing is, as Brady Hoke and Greg Mattison have the grand opportunity to restore the mystique, as they plunder the state of Michigan and lay waste to Mark Dantonio's grand vision of "turning the state green", as they dare to encrouch on the evil empire's territory to the south of us, there exists much smaller chances for the Red Wings to fight off the wave of insurgency against their power. College football provides the luxury of a clean slate every few years as the entire roster turns over and the chance for younger, better players to step in presents itself. We're already seeing the beginning of it for Michigan football, as we can rest assured that greatness lies ahead with James Ross, and Royce Jenkins-Stone, and Joe Bolden, and Kaleb Ringer, and other stars in the making whose best days lie ahead. This isn't the case in pro sports. The usurpation of Detroit's throne in the West by teams like Chicago, and San Jose, and Vancouver - these are teams with nuclei much younger than ours. The future doesn't hold promise for the Red Wings as much as it holds uncertainty. Lidstrom and Rafalski are on their last legs; behind them resides unproven talent that will need to be proven lest an enormous hole in our already-shoddy defense be torn open. The Wings had great hope for Jonathan Ericsson, and instead we've been treated to three years of incompetence and utterly dreadful play. Up front, Datsyuk and Zetterberg and Franzen are on the wrong side of 30. Bertuzzi and Holmstrom are almost out of gas. The youth that exists in the system - players like Tatar and Nyquist and Pulkkinen and Kindl and Smith and Mursak - is completely and utterly unproven at the NHL level, and as the transition from old to young takes place over the next several years, we'll have to rely on these prospects to live up to their full potential, all while competing against teams that will have their young stars entering their prime.

A future that contains the unknown is a future to be feared. And for those of us who invest far too much emotion in trivial things like sports, the angst of the unknown is surpassed only by the agony of the present, as we watch the one thing we could always rely on be laid to waste. For me, the socially inept, self-loathing, clinically depressed jerk, what little energy I have left as I struggle to find a reason to get out of bed each day is zapped as the Red Wings fade away into the sunset. I get to watch them break apart and slip away, just as all good things in my life have already done so. My shattered existence just fractures more, the spider web of cracked glass growing each day, with things like hope and optimism being conspicuously absent, and worse, the concept of them becoming more and more foreign.

Three things in life are certain. Death, taxes, and the expiration of all things pleasant and comforting. Some of those things last longer than others. Some can last 20 years. Some can last 15 months. But they all end. Whether it's via a three minute phone conversation or an unexpected snap shot from the right circle, time always catches up.

And time brings everything to an often-unwanted conclusion.

Requiem: Brandon Graham

Brandon Graham

Defensive End, 6'1, 268
Detroit, Michigan; Crockett Vocational Tech
Rivals: 5 stars, #2 inside linebacker, #15 overall
Scout: 5 stars, #3 linebacker, #14 overall
Committed to Michigan - February 20, 2005

	Explosions In The Sky - The Birth And Death Of The Day .mp3
	Found at bee mp3 search engine

It would have been really easy for Brandon Graham to have given up.

When Rich Rodriguez arrived in December of 2007, Brandon Graham had just concluded a sophomore season that featured several ebbs and flows. He started out hot - well, after being conspicuously absent from the Appalachian State and Oregon debacles. He finally "arrived" in the starting lineup for good for the Notre Dame game, whereupon he poured in 3.5 sacks in the bloodletting of Jimmy Clausen. From there, he accumulated 3.5 more over the next three games, putting him at seven sacks in essentially four games. He hit a wall after that, as his season total finished at just 8.5. Worse, he became a target for opposing offenses. If you go back and watch the 2007 Michigan State game, you will see that MSU gradually ground Michigan into the dirt with a power running game - a power running game that prominently featured runs directly at Graham, who failed to hold up under the assault. Still, we had seen enough flashes, and we knew what type of ability #55 had. When Rich Rodriguez stepped in, uncertainty was cast over the entire team, but especially the defense.

Graham could've taken the easy way out. As the calm, grisled resolve of Lloyd Carr was replaced by the boisterous hellfire and brimstone approach of Rich Rodriguez, Graham could've easily walked off the practice field, declaring his Michigan career to be over. He could've cleaned out his locker, snagged his transfer papers, selected any college of his choosing, sat out a year, and spent these last two years dominating while also relishing the results of victory. Nobody would've been surprised or especially vindictive if Graham had left. Instead, he chose to remain. As many around him chose to exit under the most bitter of circumstances, and as many who remained still refused to adjust accordingly, Graham said nothing. Graham put the work in. Graham did his job.

And in the process, he defied human nature. And won our hearts.

Deep down, beneath the superficialities and the social rules and norms that we have become hardwired to abide by, human beings are selfish. We don't adapt to change well, our biases and judgments rule our train of thought, and above all else, at the end of the day, we look out for number one. We are interested in advancing ourselves to the highest level we can obtain for the smallest amount of work. The majority of society regards "bums" and "moochers" with severe derision; most of the time for good reason. But make no mistake, even the people who tirelessly hold up our community with the hours of labor they put in would gladly desert their duties in exchange for ungodly sums of money. There isn't a human alive who wouldn't sit at home and do nothing if it meant riches and fortune would cross his path. Thankfully, this isn't how the world works. But the rule itself still applies. We are, at our very core, interested in the easy way out.

By choosing to buy into the vision Rich Rodriguez sold, and is still selling, Brandon Graham snubbed his nose at the easy way out. It became very clear early on that this would be messy. The whispers were there from observers of practice before the 2008 season, but they were only whispers. Once the season itself began, it became obvious to most, and by the time Illinois was done dry-humping Michigan up and down the Big House's field, we all knew we were in for a long, drawn out process. Even then, Brandon Graham could've mailed it in. He could've decided there was no point putting in the effort for a process that would not be finished by the time his career here was. He could've decided none of the pain and anguish was worth it when the end result was yet another defeat. That's another element of the human condition: reaction to adversity. How you face a challenge in front of you, how you react when things don't go the way you planned. How you respond when it seems like there's no reason for being. You can rattle off all the cliches that are out there. Adversity doesn't build character, it reveals it. It's not how many times you fall down, it's how many times you get up. They all fit. And they're all true. The majority of people, I imagine, when finding themselves in a situation that requires an inhuman amount of effort, pain and preparation but also is predestined to deliver nothing but pain, would run screaming. They would get out of such a situation faster than they thought possible.

Brandon Graham once again defied the very nature of humanity. Not only did he remain at his post, even as chaos reigned supreme and the firestorm grew around him, but he bought into what he had signed up for, even though it actually wasn't what he signed up for. Even among those who remained with him over the past two years, there remained some who did it simply because they had nowhere else to go, and their love for the game superceded everything else. For Graham, it was bigger than that. It was bigger than simply loving the game he plays. It was about loyalty to a man who seemingly has fewer followers every time he wakes up in the morning. It was about love for a football program that was bigger than him, and is bigger than all of us. It was about leaving an indelible mark in that program's history, one that will not be forgotten by time nor the followers who recall the tales of the ghosts of the past.

And he has succeeded at all of the above. The vision Rich Rodriguez has for the future of Michigan football - Brandon Graham bought into it and believes in it. The vision Mike Barwis has for the strength and conditioning of the young men who put in the work in that weight room - Brandon Graham believes in it, and has sacrificed to prove it. The football program that Brandon Graham grew up loving and dreamed of being a part of - he became a part of it, even as it transformed and was exposed to the evils of the real world as the shell of isolation was shed from around Schembechler Hall. The mark Brandon Graham sought to leave in Michigan football history - he left it, and it's one that none of us, young and old, will ever forget. This summer, somewhere in the world, a grandfather will sit down in his favorite rocking chair, call over his young grandson, and he will teach the lad the ways of Michigan football. He will tell him the story of Bo Schembechler taking over a stale football program and pulling off one of the greatest upsets of all-time. He will tell him about three yards and a cloud of dust, the Ten Year War, and numerous upsetting New Years in sunny southern California. He will tell him about the tradition of the #1, and how it started before many of us were alive. He will tell his grandson of Desmond Howard's magic, the Catch, and the Pose. He will speak of the majesty of the Rose Bowl, and how Tyrone Wheatley once owned it. He will speak of Mercury Hayes. He will speak of the day Shawn Springs slipped. He will slowly pronounce "Tshimanga Biakabutuka", and explain why that name is so important. He will tell the tale of a team that came out of nowhere to capture a national title. He will talk about Brady, and Thomas, and Terrell, and Walker. He will grow sour and speak of the audacity that was Clockgate in 2001. He will mention the perseverence of those like Daydrion Taylor and Zia Combs, who gave more than what was asked of them in the name of Michigan Football. He will talk about where he was when we lost the man who meant the world to us, and the heartbreak that has never ended since that fateful November 2006 day. He will tell the story of Lloyd Carr refusing to give up even when his final season began with a dud. He will talk of how Henne and Hart dragged their broken bodies across the finish line and gave us all a day to remember with glory on New Years 2008.

And then the elderly grandfather will pause. His trembling hand will remove his bifocals slowly, and he will dab away the mist that has formed in his eyes. His young grandson will ask what troubles him, and he will say, "Nothing, my boy. Nothing at all." And then he will talk about one of the greatest warriors any of us have ever had the pleasure of watching play for the team we all love more than anything else. He'll tell the tale of the 2008 Wisconsin game, and how while it served as an ominous foreshadowing of what was to come, it also reminded us of why we watch, and why we never give up, and how Graham had three sacks in the game which aided the comeback. He'll talk about how Brandon Graham declared "We won't lose to State", and that while his declaration ultimately came up false, it was no part because of him. Then, as he begins to talk about the 2009 season, he will sniffle and cough a bit, and he will muse about the story of redemption that came apart as it progressed, but also how Graham never wavered, how his determination and drive never relented for one snap. The old man will talk about how Graham desperately tried to salvage a bowl bid with four sacks in the final two weeks, including one glorious sequence where he almost single handedly killed an Ohio State drive - but of course, despite nothing short of 100% effort from Graham, those around him failed, and the drive ended in a touchdown, the game ended in a loss, and the career just...ended.

And he'll have made to sure to make special mention of this:


And as the old man's story about the 2009 football season ends, he will segway into a story about commitment, belief, and sacrifice, and how sometimes, even though it may not be ideal, pleasant, or desirable, sometimes you have to sacrifice yourself for something you believe in. Which is exactly what Brandon Graham did. You never heard a peep out of him. All the transfers, all the quitters, all the people showing their true colors by crying to the media, all the losses, all the humiliation that we've endured over the past two years - absolutely none of it is because of Brandon Graham, and the work ethic he showed, the humility he displayed, and ultimately, the martyrdom he exhibited as his career at Michigan faded away into our minds' eyes.

I guess in that sense, Brandon Graham is responsible for a large portion of the heartache we've experienced. Heartache because in a just world, men who lay it all on the line for that which they believe in and love so dearly are rewarded as such. We've seen such sacrifice here recently, in Manny Harris and DeShawn Sims. They weren't in an ideal situation, and they put in the work and effort anyway. But even they were rewarded for their sweat. They got to taste the NCAA Tournament. For Brandon Graham, there was no such light at the end of the tunnel, no bowl game to go out with a bang on, no redeeming victories over Michigan State or Ohio State in the final two years in which he sacrificed like no other.

If I ever met Brandon Graham, I'd like to give him a hug and a pat on the back. I'd like to reminisce about his destruction of Glenn Winston. I'd like to have a laugh with him and ask him to describe how it felt to score a TD his senior year. And then, after the laughter had faded, and the generic conversation had ceased, I'd like to shake his hand, look him in the eye, and thank him. Thank him for the sacrifice he made. Thank him for never giving up. Thank him for representing everything good about Michigan, and the good side of humanity. Thank him for believing in his coach when so many don't.

And then I'd lower my eyes, and just like with Manny and DeShawn, I would apologize. It would be awkward, it would be hard, and Graham would probably say it's unnecessary. But I would do it anyway, because I would feel obligated to. I would say that it's a fucked up world where someone can do everything right and still end up on the wrong side of things. I imagine he would smile - he always does - and say he's okay and he wouldn't change a thing. It would be reassuring, I suppose.

He'll never read this, but on behalf of all those who support the Maize and Blue, thank you, Brandon Graham. Thank you for being the light in the darkness. Thank you for being the rock we could all cling to in the storm. Thank you for being strong, even if those around you were not.

Thank you for smiling, even if there was no reason to smile.

One day, I will tell the story of Brandon Graham to my children and grandchildren, and I will feel remorse. Not just because of the underlying tone that is the cruel unfairness of the universe. But because they will have not seen greatness as it happened.

#55, 268 pounds of twisted blue steel. Farewell.

There Are Things That Drift Away

Sharks 4, Red Wings 3 (OT); Western Semifinals, 0-3

	Iron & Wine - Passing Afternoon
	Found at skreemr.com

It's never easy to say goodbye to someone, or something, that you love. It's even harder when you say goodbye to those that you adore so much, but realize they're not the same as they once were. What once was vibrant is now haggard. What once was fiery is now extinguished. What once shined under the spotlights now sweats.

Maybe it's just me. Maybe in my head, I've elevated the 2007-2008 Stanley Cup Champion Detroit Red Wings to a level of reverence that they never truly reached. Maybe the perfection I have envisioned in my mind didn't exist. Either way, it certainly exceeded what's transpired since that warm summer night in Pittsburgh 23 months ago. In my mind's eye, I see the definition of "Red Wings hockey": precision, speed, execution, grace, intelligence. You could throw a dart at every synonym for those words, and you'd hit one that accurately described the Red Wings on their quest to a championship two springs ago.

Now? I'm not sure if any of them apply anymore. What began to crack last spring has broken completely now. Whether it's a result of players getting older, or someone behind the bench being really, really bad at what they do, or some combination of both, it doesn't matter; the Red Wings no longer possess many of the qualities that we as fans have grown accustomed to seeing night in and night out. Losing battles in the corners, losing possession of the puck, passes failing to connect through the neutral zone, defensemen being turnstiled and burned by being out of position. None of these were present two years ago. They began to pop up last season, culminating in one of the most painful nights in the lives of Red Wings fans. Even The Perfect Human, one Nicklas Lidstrom, has become mortal.

This goes beyond officiating. The refs were bad, but they're hardly to blame. Tonight's scapegoats, as if it really matters, could be a few select players, I suppose. Jason Williams, in the lineup for some unknown reason, does what he does and fires a wild shot that, of course, ricochets out the other side and produces the 2-on-1 that ends the game, because, just like last year in Pittsburgh in Game 4, Brian Rafalski is completely and utterly worthless in this situation. He does nothing to stop the pass, and bang, it's game over. And it's game over because of two completely unacceptable goals given up by our rookie goaltender, Jimmy Howard. The first goal was horrible enough as it is, Howard inexplicably lifting his pad off the ice and exposing his five hole when that was the only shot available; but to give it up with 1.8 seconds left in the period and going to intermission up 2-1 instead of 2-0 is garbage. Second goal wasn't his fault, it was on the five players playing in front of him, losing another faceoff battle and doing nothing but watching as Joe Thornton skates around the net and out front with the puck. Hard to blame the goalie when the players in front of them are picking their noses. But the third goal? He deserves to be cussed out for that one. I'm not kidding. Somebody in that locker room, a player, a coach, whoever, should read Howard the riot act for that. The Wings fell asleep after going up 3-1, and predictably paid for it, but Howard woke up them with his two saves on Martin Hanzal in Game 5 in Phoenix. And to give it up on a goal like that, in a one goal game in the third period in a game you have to have, when your team needs a wakeup call - well, how can you defend somebody after that? I understand Chris Osgood is finished as a #1 goaltender, and this was the mindset of the Red Wings headed into the postseason - it's Jimmy's show, sink or swim. Meanwhile, the Red Wings' defense is aging, there are heavyweights in the Western Conference significantly younger than this Detroit team, and sacrificing a postseason for the sake of getting your new goaltender experience, well...it is what it is, I guess.

And what it is is over. This isn't like 2007 when the Red Wings' #2 and #3 defensemen didn't play a second of the West Finals against Anaheim. This isn't like last year where the Wings were a walking MASH unit by the time That Fateful Night in June rolled around. No, this is the case of a championship window as we know it getting closed down just a bit further, close to completely shut. Lidstrom will be around for maybe one more year. After that, then what? You don't just plug in the gap left by one of the greatest players of all time. Rafalski has a couple years left, but he's old too and showed his defensive limitation once again tonight. Kronwall and Stuart are top four defensemen, but not top two. They aren't the type you send over the boards everytime the opposition's top line takes the ice. You don't tell them to quarterback your power play and penalty kill. So where does that leave us? Hoping that the light goes on for Jonathan Ericsson, who was terrible this year? Hoping that Jakub Kindl pans out like the first round pick he was? Hoping that Brendan Smith develops quickly and is a star? That's entirely too much hope in a conference where Kane, Toews, Sharp, Bolland, Versteeg and Byfuglien are all under 28 in Chicago. Where Los Angeles appears to be rising to prominence with Kopitar (21), Stoll (27), Brown (24), Frolov (27), Simmonds (20), Doughty (19!), Johnson (22) and a star goaltender in the minors (Bernier, 20). Where Heatley, Thornton, Marleau, Clowe, Pavelski, and Setoguchi are all under 30 for the Sharks. Where nine of Vancouver's top 11 scorers this year are under 30, and their goalie, one of the best in the world, just turned 31 and is in his prime.

It's a frightening prospect, as all these teams in the West have young stars up and coming, and the Red Wings have an aging defense and a goaltender who has struggled in his first postseason. It's frightening when the team renowned for its ability to put the skate to the throat of its opponent blows a 3-1 lead in the third period and loses in overtime at home in a game they had to win to save their season. It's frightening that they are propelling the "playoff chokers" into the Western Finals.

I believe (and yes, I'm a homer) that the Red Wings were the best team in 2007, and would've beaten the Ducks (and then Ottawa) if Schneider and Kronwall had been healthy. I believe if they had possessed anything resembling health last year, if Datsyuk, Hossa, Zetterberg, Cleary and Lidstrom weren't nursing injuries that should've had them on the sidelines, they would've beaten Pittsburgh. I believe this team deserved better than the one championship they got.

But that's life. It's about disappointment, and how you deal with it. It's about setbacks, and how you cope with them.

It's about saying farewell too soon to those you love with all your heart.

Requiem: The Detroit Duo

DeShawn Sims

Small Forward/Power Forward, 6'7, 222
Detroit, Michigan; Pershing High School
Rivals: 4 stars, #6 PF, #31 overall
Scout: 4 stars, #9 SF, #44 overall
Committed to Michigan - August 12, 2005

Corperryale "Manny" Harris

Shooting Guard, 6'4, 170
Detroit, Michigan; Redford High School
Rivals: 4 stars, #6 SG, #34 overall
Scout: 4 stars, #12 SG, #57 overall
Committed to Michigan - July 10, 2006

It was clear after the 2008/2009 season that, eventually, an ode to Manny Harris and DeShawn Sims would be necessary. Just like Mike Hart, Chad Henne, and Mario Manningham in football, the Detroit Duo left a mark on the program that is worth remembering, recollecting, and recapping.

Unfortunately, as per the usual in our wretched M existences now, what appeared to be headed for a storybook ending ended like that stupid Nicolas Cage movie. Which one? I don't know, there are a lot of them like that. But what looked like a story of redemption in the wake of backdoor cuts against UCLA and drives through the lane for dunks against Duke ended with putrid, ghastly, abortions in 2009/2010, and the image of Evan Turner strutting off the court in Indianapolis as Thad Matta screamed and flailed like a chipmunk on uppers.

Neither Manny Harris nor DeShawn Sims signed on for what they got. Both committed to play for Tommy Amaker, and ended up with John Beilein. But unlike those with prophets for parents and those who didn't "fit", Manny and DeShawn stuck around and took us for a two-year roller coaster ride. Erratic at times, dominant at others, they were the closest Michigan's had to "elite" basketball players in some time. And for flashes over the past two seasons, they showed things that Daniel Horton and Dion Harris and Courtney Sims never could - the ability to excel under pressure. My lasting image of Harris and Sims is one of a complete breakdown in basketball fundamentals at the end of the 2007 regular season against the Greg Oden/Mike Conley Buckeyes - a game Michigan had no business being in, but was in nonetheless, until they displayed all the characteristics that made the Amaker era infuriating. Missed free throws, blown dunks and layups, and a 10-0 run in the final minutes by Ohio State to beat Michigan 65-61.

It would've been easy for DeShawn and/or Manny to hit the road once John Beilein arrived. As Michigan fans, we've gotten used to hearing the whole "Oh, he doesn't fit the system" thing in both basketball and football. But I think it's a testament to both Beilein and Sims and Harris that they both stuck around and did their best to make it work. In the end, Beilein's a basketball coach, and Sims and Harris are good basketball players. It's not cut and dry like football. But I don't want this to be one of those posts. I probably made a mistake by mentioning football anyway. This isn't what this is for. This is for fondly remembering #3 and #34.

DeShawn, the mild-mannered, always-humble one who never seemed to fit into either the small forward or power forward position. Sometimes he was unstoppable, especially when his jump shot was falling. Often times, he was our only real threat on offense, and most times that was a burden that was too much to bear. When asked to set up shop in the paint, he was hit or miss. He was never a dominant finisher at the rim, often missing simple layins, rarely finishing with an emphatic dunk. We remember his dominance in the 2009 Big Ten Tournament against Iowa, which finally sent Michigan back to the NCAA Tournament. We remember this year's MSU game, where he was inches away from being a hero, despite being so obviously fouled. What's the lasting image of DeShawn Sims in a Michigan uniform?

Here's mine:


One of basketball's most fundamental plays, the backdoor cut, capitalized by a slam dunk and a player wearing a Michigan uniform running upcourt clapping his hands above his head in the world's most famous venue for basketball. That's DeShawn Sims. When I think of DeShawn, I think of the backdoor cut against UCLA that returned Michigan to some sort of relevance.

And then...Manny. I'm probably not the only one who gets a Mario Manningham vibe when thinking about Manny Harris's three years at UofM. Supremely talented, memorable moments...and yet a feeling that if his head had been on a little straighter, things could've been so much better. We all know the flaws in Manny's game - his jumpshot is sort of messy, he can be careless with the ball, he's too small to play small forward in the NBA, etc. We saw Manny's potential during his freshman year, which was for the most part a black hole of death. He showed flashes of what he was capable of, as Michigan lost 20 games. His sophomore year, he led us through the promised land, finishing off Duke at Crisler when he knifed through the lane and flushed the ball through the rim. We remember how he delivered Michigan's first NCAA Tournament win in over a decade with his and-one against Clemson. But for all the highs, it's hard to overlook the controversies. Being benched for overtime against Iowa his sophomore year. Being suspended this past year for the Purdue game. And now he leaves. It's pretty much unanimous that his NBA prospects aren't good, and the fact that he's hiring an agent (and closing the door on any possible return) makes it pretty clear that he butted heads with Beilein on multiple occasions. I was happy to see that Beilein was there with him at the press conference today. I hope it wasn't just for show, because if there's one thing Michigan basketball needs (aside from on the court stuff), it's former players embracing the program. We need Manny Harris to mean what he said today, about how his relationship with Coach Beilein is good and he will always support Michigan. This isn't just about Trey Zeigler, but it starts with him and expands. To land great recruits like that, Michigan basketball needs stars like Manny Harris to say, "Michigan is a great place."

I'm so tired of this, really. I truly am. I'm sick of writing these types of posts, bidding farewell to those who gave so much and got so little in return. Jesus, just wait until the Brandon Graham requiem post. Manny Harris and DeShawn Sims took a chance on Michigan. They could've picked pretty much any basketball program in America, and they took a chance on Tommy Amaker, and an even bigger one on John Beilein. They'll tell you they don't regret anything they've done. They had productive careers, led Michigan to a place it was 11 years removed from, and will get their shot at proving themselves at the next level. But as we face the specter of a 2010/2011 Michigan team, sans Manny, sans DeShawn...it's not a pretty picture.

I'm tired of scenes like this...


...where even our best isn't good enough anymore.

I long for the day where I can say farewell to a Michigan player and thank him for the beatings he put on those we detest the most, instead of only thanking him for the hard work he put in and awkwardly apologizing for how it didn't work out the way it should have or could have.

Goodbye, Manny and DeShawn. Thank you for taking a chance on Michigan. If the day should come where Michigan is great again, I hope to see the two of you back at Crisler to celebrate.