Scott Adamson, Author at Adamsonmedia.com

Squadron hits reset button

The Birmingham Squadron finished next to last in the South Pod of the NBA G League Showcase Cup standings, winning just six of 16 games.

The 6-10 record meant they didn’t qualify for the eight-team Showcase Cup Tournament in Las Vegas, although they did to get play a pair of contests at Mandalay Bat Convention Center. On December 20, Birmingham fell to Wisconsin, 99-85, and T.J. Saint’s charges closed out their stay in Sin City with a 111-100 loss to Grand Rapids last Thursday.

**Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl**

But guess what?

None of those results matter anymore.

I mean, they matter in the sense that Birmingham players have already gotten in lots of work (and had a chance to get better). That’s important, especially since the parent club – the New Orleans Pelicans – can and will rely on some of these guys to step up and contribute as the National Basketball Association season progresses.

However, as 2022 prepares to check out so 2023 can check in, it’s out with the old and in with the new for the developmental league.

When the Squadron returns to Legacy Arena on Thursday to host the Texas Legends in the first of a two-day series, they’ll do it with a clean slate. Despite having 18 games under their belt, this clash will be the regular season opener.

And that’s yet another reason I really enjoy this circuit.

Even before I moved back to Birmingham and the Magic City got a franchise (via the relocation of the Erie BayHawks), I had become a G League fanboy, spending an inordinate amount of time watching games on ESPN+.

As someone who cheers for the Brooklyn Nets, the Long Island Nets became “my” minor league team, and I watched them as often as possible.

That was fun.

But watching my hometown team in person is even better.

The Squadron has – as you might’ve guessed – supplanted the Understudy Nets in my rooting hierarchy, while the Pelicans are fast becoming one of my favorite big-league clubs. (The fact that former Birmingham boss Ryan Pannone is now a New Orleans assistant helps; I think he’s a good dude and terrific coach).

The G League is incredibly fast-paced, rule innovations make it even more interesting, and you’re seeing fantastic athletes ply their trade. If you’re looking for ways to spend your entertainment money, buying a ticket to Squadron clashes in the Uptown is money well-spent.

And starting right now, Birmingham is even with the other 29 clubs in its quest for a G League title.

Certainly, Job One for the coaches is to get the players ready to move out and move up. As much as I might enjoy watching guys like Kelan Martin, Zylan Cheatham and John Petty Jr. suit up for the Squadron, Saint and company want to coach them up to a level where Smoothie King Center in New Orleans becomes their primary venue.

That’s the nature of Triple A sports; the better they play, the sooner they’re gone.

But they’re all competitors, competitors want to win, and now there’s something more to play for.

Between now and the regular season finale on March 25, 2023, the Squadron will feature many different faces. There’ll be players sent down from the Pelicans for rehab (Kira Lewis Jr. is the most recent example), and two-way players called up for a limited number of games in New Orleans (Dereon Seabron was transferred back to the Pelicans on Tuesday).

Some will be cut, and others will be traded.

Still, whoever suits up for Birmingham’s team will be going full throttle every time they set foot on the court. That effort will benefit them as players, and it’ll benefit us as fans, too.

So, the reset button has been pressed and the 2022-23 G League regular season is at hand.

Oh, and should old acquaintances be forgot, old losses can be as well.

A Christmas wish

Some stories start off sad and end up happy.

Some stories start off happy and end up sad.

Then there are those stories that blend tears with smiles, and you find yourself trying to write the ending.

That leads me to another Christmas Day, and another decision to make about how I choose to feel about it.

Do I pick Christmas Day, 1994, or Christmas Day, 1970?

Is it really even my choice to make?

See, on December 25, 1994, my dad died. Just weeks earlier he had been diagnosed with an aggressive form of cancer, and by December 20 he was already in hospice care.

I was with him when he passed away, cringing as I watched him struggle to breathe and staring at a clock that showed 3:12 p.m. when the breathing stopped.

It was the worst day of my life.

Like many people I grapple with severe depression and man, oh man, did that event start a freefall. Pop was my best friend and my hero, and suddenly he was gone.

And it happened on Christmas Day.

So, are you sufficiently bummed out yet? Can’t blame you. That tale is quite the buzz-harsher.

Please try to bear with me, though, because things get better – even though I thought they never would.

I spent a long time “celebrating” every Christmas Day by reliving the one from 1994 – the one that saw part of my world end.

But as Christmas Day, 2022, is at hand, my mind no longer goes back to 1994, but to 1970.

I was a kid, one who had been mesmerized by the New York Jets’ win over the Baltimore Colts in Super Bowl III. While Joe Namath and company wouldn’t recapture the magic again, they were cemented as my favorite team. And all I wanted for Christmas was a department store New York Jets football uniform (complete with plastic helmet, jersey, pants and shoulder pads).

I made this request quite clear.

“Pop, I sure would like a New York Jets football uniform for Christmas,” I said.

If you’ve ever read me before you know my father was a Green Bay Packers fan, so his response was colored by green and yellow instead of green and white.

“You mean you don’t want a number 15 Packers uniform?” he said with a grin. “You’d look good dressed up like Bart Starr.”

I guess I knew he was kidding, although I couldn’t be sure. And had I torn open a package containing a yellow helmet with a big “G” on the side, I would’ve still been happy. I loved the man dearly, so he could’ve gifted me with a rock and it would’ve been just the rock I had always hoped for.

But of course, it was a Jets kit, courtesy of our friends at J.C. Penny. As far as presents go, it was the best one, from the best dad (who was also my best friend).

And it happened on Christmas Day.

So, I suppose now you’re wondering how I’m able to make my memory default from that awful Christmas to my happiest one.

That’s a good question, and a fair one.

Depression – or at least the way it affects me – is akin to being attacked by a gang of demons that vary in size and strength from day to day (and sometimes moment to moment). When you’re lucky, you can brush them back with a broom.

When you’re not, they will absolutely beat you senseless.

I guess one Christmas Day I just got tired of getting my butt kicked.

So, instead of waking up preparing to be overwhelmed with a profound feeling of loss, I concentrated really, really hard and tried to remember the healthy, happy Pop – the one who lived, not the one who died.

And the more I dug deep into my memory, the more I realized as happy as I was forcing a green jersey over shoulder pads and squeezing into that Jets lid, he was even happier. It was a great day for me, but a great day for him, too. That shared moment now seems more like a treasure, because it is a treasure.

And this season, that brings me comfort and joy.

Look, much of what I’m rambling on about sounds trite; I’m acutely aware we can’t always take our mind where we want it to go. Some days, the sadness is so overwhelming we can barely move. I mean, if we knew how to rid ourselves of depression we’d all do it, right?

Knowing that, I can’t promise you that next Christmas my ruminations won’t revert back to December 25, 1994, at 3:12 p.m.

What I can tell you, though, is that time – and the knowledge that there are caring people everywhere – has helped me give far more weight to my best Christmas than my worst one.

And that nasty gang of demons? Well, sometimes they’ll win.

But other times, they won’t.

And what I hope you take from this is that I know how you feel, regardless of what you feel today and what you might feel tomorrow. There is help available, and sometimes we all need it.

So, this holiday season, I wish you strength and send you love and light. If you look hard enough, maybe you’ll find your own version of a Jets uniform under the tree.

Because things can get better, even though you might think they never will.

If you’re struggling and need help, call or text 988 or chat at 988lifeline.org/chat.

Chuck and the Stars

The original United States Football League gave the National Football League fits during its three years of competition. When the USFL wasn’t snatching up young superstars in the making before the senior circuit could make a deal, it was signing away several big names.

Reggie White got his start there, and it’s where three consecutive Heisman Trophy winners decided to begin their professional careers.

Four players who suited up for USFL clubs before moving on to the NFL – White, Jim Kelly, Steve Young and Gary Zimmerman – are now enshrined the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

So, when talking about the spring league’s top quarterbacks from 1983-85, it’s safe to assume that Kelly and Young were the most decorated, right?

It depends on who your decorator is.

If championship hardware is part of the display, Chuck Fusina needs to be the centerpiece. He was behind center for all three USFL championships as a member of the Philadelphia/Baltimore Stars, losing to Michigan in 1983, beating Arizona in 1984 and – after the Stars had moved to Baltimore – writing the final chapter of league play with a conquest of Oakland in 1985.

Fusina reached an agreement with Philadelphia on December 17, 1982 – one of 13 former Penn State players to sign on the dotted line with the new team in the new league.

Having served as a backup to Doug Williams of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and throwing only seven passes before being traded to the San Francisco 49ers in the offseason, Fusina was looking to do more than watch from the sidelines.

“I spent three years behind a pretty good quarterback,” Fusina told the Tampa Tribune for a December 18, 1982, story. “And when you’re as competitive as I am and you don’t see much playing time, I guess you start to wonder a little bit about yourself.

“The new league interested me. I wanted to play. I’m not blaming my activity on the (Tampa Bay) coaches or anyone else. I blame myself.”

Fusina was 29-3 as a starter at Penn State, leading the Nittany Lions to 19 straight victories before losing to Alabama, 14-7, in the 1979 Sugar Bowl.

But the fifth-round draft pick began his NFL career as an understudy, and failed to earn a starting job with the Bucs. However, Stars officials were confident he could step in and make an immediate impact in the alternative league.

“With Chuck Fusina, we have the type of player we want to grow with,” Stars managing partner Myles Tanenbaum said. “We’re interested in not only building a team for the first year, but for the future, and to have a quarterback as young as Chuck (25), someone who had the opportunity to have experience in the NFL, is a bonus.”

In February, 1983, Stars coach Jim Mora named Fusina the starter over Brian Broomell and Jim Krohn. With big Kelvin Bryant – a three-time 1,000-yard rusher at North Carolina – toting the freight, Fusina was expected to spend much of his time handing the ball off.

Although his season stats were hardly earth shaking (2,718 passing yards, 15 TD passes and 10 interceptions) he helped guide Philly to a league-best 15-3 record. That was followed by an overtime playoff win over the Chicago Blitz before the Stars were upset by the Michigan Panthers, 24-22, in the USFL Championship Game in Denver.

“From what I read, I can’t throw the ball too far,” Fusina told the Hartford Courant before the title game against Michigan. “But with the type of receivers and passing game we have, we throw a lot of quick, short passes. We’re not much of a speed-demon team, anyway. My range is what our offense demands.

“How far can I throw the ball? I don’t know. I’ve never really tested it. But a quarterback has to know he can throw it far enough, and I know I can throw it far enough. My players know when I go out there, I’m going to give it 110 percent. I’m going to win any way I can.”

Although he and the Stars came up short of a crown in 1983, they never did again.

In 1984 Fusina threw for a league-best 3,837 yards and 31 touchdowns in helping the Stars finish 16-2 in the regular season and roll through the playoffs, capped by a 23-3 trouncing of the Arizona Wranglers in the championship game.

Fusina was named Most Valuable Player of the contest, and his season-long performance was worthy of USFL MVP honors.

“I lost the Sugar Bowl by one yard, and I lost the USFL championship last year by two points,” Fusina said. “This is a very happy moment for me after coming so close. All year long out goal was not just to come here, but come here and win.”

The win over Arizona came in Tampa, where he rarely got on the field. And in another twist, Williams – in his first season with the Oklahoma Outlaws after jumping to the USFL from the Bucs – finished well behind Fusina in most statistical categories.

The 1985 season saw the Stars relocate to Baltimore; with the USFL planning to play a fall schedule in 1986, the franchise couldn’t compete with the Eagles so it moved 100 miles southwest.

But by the end of the season, the results were the same for both Fusina and his team.

Although Baltimore had a mediocre regular season – starting 5-6-1 and finishing fourth in the seven-team Eastern Conference with a 10-7-1 worksheet – the Ws came when they mattered most.

First up was a 20-17 victory over New Jersey, then a 28-14 besting of Birmingham.

I was at the Eastern Conference final at Legion Field, fully expecting the favored Stallions to earn a trip to the championship game in New Jersey. Instead, I saw Fusina go 10-16-0 for 210 yards and a touchdown (including a 70-yard TD pass to Bryant), a result that closed out the Birmingham franchise.

Finally, Baltimore’s 28-24 win over Oakland capped off the last championship – and last game – of the original United States Football League.

Fusina threw for 3,496 yards, 20 TDs and 14 picks in 1985, finishing his USFL career with a 47-13-1 record (7-1 in the playoffs) and an 86.2 passer rating.

“I really believe this tops it all,” Fusina said in a United Press International story on July 15, 1985. “To go through what we did is a great accomplishment. A lot of people gave up on us, but we never gave up on ourselves.

“It’s a great feeling to win and come back from all that adversity.”

With the USFL failing to launch in 1986, Fusina signed with the Green Bay Packers in October of that year.

It was his final season in professional football.

It’s easy to look back at the NFL’s last major league challenger and obsess over the flashy players that stocked its rosters and multi-million-dollar contracts that upended the establishment.

It truly changed the landscape of professional football.

But the name of the game is to win, and Chuck Fusina did that better than any other signal caller in the USFL’s brief history.

And 40 years later, that’s worth celebrating for those of us who still celebrate the late, great United States Football League.