Opening tip: I read your story about Florida International University basketball coach Isiah Thomas ("On the Rebound," Francisco Alvarado, February 11). I've resided in South Florida since 1988, and here's what I've observed: There is no shortage of haters and followers in Miami. Sure, when a team becomes trendy, everyone's a so-called die-hard. Other than that, this town can be found on the corner of Apathy Boulevard and Hater Street dispensing opinions that are as valid as the fake fans who showed up to Miami Heat finals games in 2006 and Florida Marlins postseason games in '97 and '03.
Time out: Interesting that the writer chooses the game of December 31 — New Year's Eve — to go to an FIU game and then complains about attendance. Not the home opener, not the conference opener, not the FAU game, but the game at noon on a holiday when people are either with their families or partying. The writer also criticizes the basketball on the floor when Coach Thomas has had less than one year on the job. In addition, the writer fails to mention that not one player in the starting lineup is taller than 6 feet 5 inches.
On offense: As an alumnus and supporter of FIU, it is impossible for me to see this article as anything but an attack. I will never understand why so many people in this town are invested in taking down the only four-year state university in Dade County — a university that confers more than half of all four-year degrees awarded in this county. FIU has done more for the community than any other four-year institution, yet so many of you feel the need to tear it down.
Doubting Thomas: Only a profoundly mentally retarded person would be dumb enough to hire Isiah Thomas. FIU students and "fans" should direct their hatred toward their athletic director and dean for funneling money away from academics and into their worthless sports teams. Thomas is a washed-up thug with no business coaching kindergartners.
No-brainer: As a graduate student at FIU who has seen budgets slashed, promises broken, resources stretched to the breaking point, faculty fired, graduate students forced to teach greater course loads without a corresponding increase in compensation, and a litany of other mismanagements, embarrassments, and atrocities committed by our wholly incompetent administration, I'm glad to see someone point out that our emperor has no clothes.
No Horsing Around
Ban 'em: Farmer Manuel Coto and Calder horse trainer Jorge Ortega should be run out of Miami-Dade and out of the USA ("Pony Boy," Gus Garcia-Roberts, February 11). Scum bottom feeders and horse killers have no place here. Calder, Gulfstream, and Hialeah should ban Ortega from even stepping on their grounds.
Sure bet: This is pitiful. The first time this pony boy killed a horse, he should have been ruled off that track. These people should not be allowed around any animals. This man should be arrested. Of course, people knew this was happening, and sadly no one did anything about it.
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No bomb: As a new work, Sandra Riley's play The Hour of the Tiger might have been flawed ("Lesbian Geishas From Space," Brandon K. Thorp, February 11). But to suggest it represented a worldview as simplistic as "America bad, Japan good" does a disservice to the play's nuance and is particularly revealing of the critic's fatuity. In 1973, America was engaged in a war that challenged how we viewed ourselves as well as how others viewed us; the rights of women were being asserted; and gays and lesbians were just stepping out of their American closets. Whether or not Riley hit the mark, they were all themes in her play.