How interested am I in this East coast ship of ideal small ball four (Rudy Gay’s calling if he ever saw the light and he knows it) affecting the thus far disinteresting legacy of Derrick Williams? Very. Why don’t we care more about Derrick Williams’ befuddling decline from THE prototype of NBA small-ball four a la a 32 points and 13 rebounds (the most impressive Sweet 16 performance I’ve ever seen) to Marvin Williams meets Stromile Swift…THE GUY SHOT 56.8% FROM THREE FOR AN ENTIRE SEASON IN COLLEGE! HOW HAS SMALL BALL FOUR DERRICK WILLIAMS NOT WORKED!
I guess Duke loves churning out fools gold lottery picks…that aren’t on their team. Tyrus Thomas, anyone?
So, Rudy Gay plus Derrick Williams (who plays his ass off) minus every other big that mattered in Sacramento’s rotation besides Jason Thompson—a top 20 irrelevant lottery pick of all time that essentially just stands there…Rider University (?). Small ball Rudy Gay/Derrick Williams tandem haven? Or does Quincy Acy do Quincy Acy? Well, Derrick Williams is 22…Derrick Williams is 22? I’m pretty sure 95% of NBA fans think Derrick Williams is 24. Most irrelevant after thought I know. Sam Malone coaches this thing into the league’s epicenter of pick and roll, Sacramento run-run-runs (devastating potential for this team in transition) and Rudy Gay puts 35% of his bullshit size up game behind him? I’m on the Derrick Williams revelation bandwagon. Quincy Acy, however, is a man. Great toss in find for Sacramento. I love Quincy Acy
Here’s Quincy Acy dunking 10 times in one game in college #HitEm
As honorary soundtrack for the “whatever” chapter in Rudy Gay’s “Diary of the Traveling Pants,” Styx it is. A 2014-15 $19.3 million player option with the delusional superstar wherewithal to go Code Black Hole and shoot upwards THIRTY FIVE times despite advanced analytics suggesting anyone shooting sub 41% across every facet of scoring (free throws removed) should probably feel behooved to not rain dance…meets being swapped a second time in however many months for a salary dump of fifteen some-odd million in combined expiring contract, Chuck “Thickness” Hayes and summer financial certainty in Toronto…meets Sacramento’s persisting dysfunction at both ends and hero ball…meets this progressive ballad of the late 70′s? On board, I’m the captain, so climb aboard/We’ll search for tomorrow on every shore, And I’ll try/Oh Lord I’ll try, to carry on.We have no fucking idea of where we’re going, alright.
Does this mean Jimmer Fredette plays a lick? A bleak “maybe.” Miserable sideline life circumstances for Jimmer as of his entire career. JJ Reddick 2.0 irrationally rotting at the bottom of a depth chart: first three seasons filled with next level transition, white boy problems (defense…pshhh) and far from miserable numbers, signs at the league minimum elsewhere with a team that realized connecting on 41% of one’s three’s over 156 attempts meant added value and, boom, massive improvements in years four and five given extended opportunity. That’s my optimistic Jimmer Fredette narrative. Preach, Demarcus.
Ben Mclemore’s worst nightmare next to taking a bath in microwaved water for the rest of his life. Rudy Gay balls, Mclemore minutes and touches are lost, and the Kings move up the draft boards. Rudy Gay reaffirms all we’ve now known about Rudy Gay, Mclemore minutes and touches are lost, and The Kings are stuck in a Camel Clutch. Oh, and Sacramento is committed to $71 million…before Isaiah Thomas hits free agency; best believe the little man will transcend how little men are paid in this league.
I’m not jumping the Rudy Gay Ship just yet. He’s 27, I like the intriguing, potential filled small ball lineups featuring Derrick Williams/Demarcus Cousins four/five combinations if Rudy Gay ever comes to fathom the importance engaging anyone off the ball, ranks top 10 in one dribble pull up jumper field goal percentage amongst those pulling up five plus times a game, possesses somewhat of a clutch gene and is athletically devastating enough to theoretically gird up his loins and say, “Hey, I can impact a game in more ways than half of one if I do what God intended me to do and play team basketball.” But change you must, my friend. Efficiently change you must! Hell, how about channeling an inner Nicholas Batum? If Rudy Gay finished better than a DISMAL 32% of his 6.5 drives per game (already below league average efficiency, less volume shooting, and an inability to finish easy looks means the odds of finding a newfound sense of efficiency are heavily not in his favor) then I’d say Rudy Gay could totally channel an inner Nicholas Batum.
Reality: I’m feeling Rudy Gay having to defer as the lesser in his inside/out relationship with one superstar big playing the best two way basketball of his career; Rudy Gay revelation in Sacramento is fact feasible. The numbers say otherwise. Demarcus Cousins leads the league in usage rate. Isaiah Thomas is an affable HUN (28.4% usage rate) now manning first as opposed to second units. Those three plus those unconscionable levels of individual on ball dominance plus Rudy Gay in already one of the more stagnant, isolationist based offenses known to the NBA plus Rudy Gay consistently finding himself shitting his pants at finessing the biscuit in the basket within five feet, plus no meaningful projected cap room this summer…Christ.
The bright side is shallow yet juicy: Rudy Gay was in fact more productive as a Grizzly with less touches and $19.3 million doesn’t make the Kings anything more than fringe contender for an eight seed. So the race for Dante Exum remains.
Doesn’t Aaron Gray visually fit the mold of someone who should be 6’6, fratting out at the University of Alabama, profusely sweating and forever looking like dog shit in a polo?
Detroit said, “Naw, our two expiring contracts surprisingly enough might help us fulfill our playoff mandate.” $99 for Milwaukee’s remaining 26 home games meant “Fuck $19.3 million if $19.3 million means we still aren’t good enough for a guaranteed eight seed.” Cleveland’s playoff mandate and abysmal collection of starting wings couldn’t suffice a simple, “yes.” Everyone else said, “No.”
18 months post shoulder surgery and Rudy Gay becomes the dime store hooker of the NBA (Rudy’s one of several). Baffling. Historical “suck” with regards to poor combination of irresponsible ball hawking, shot chucking and brick laying (I see you ’01-’02 Jerry Stackhouse!), high-jacking an offense with a gargantuan usage rate reserved for the upper UPPER echelon, an above average defender when engaged, a sorry at the rim finisher, probably THE worst on ball dominant passer this league has to offer. Quick, here’s some more horrifying Rud Gay statistics: (1.) Rudy Gay and Demar Derozan combined for 672 field goal attempts over 19 games (!) en route to becoming the league’s most ineffective midrange tandem next to Bradley Beal and Jon Wall, (2.) HE HASN’T SHOT ABOVE .500 IN A REGULAR SEASON GAME SINCE ARIL 16! And (3.) 19 points and 7 rebounds a game were so hallow that my man had to go as far as to using his facade of $19.3 star power to ban stat sheets from his locker room. Good Googely-Moogley, dime store hooker indeed. Dude has sucked dick. I thought Rudy Gay was aight?
The Irrelevant Afterthought
How interested am I in this West coast ship of ideal small ball four (Rudy Gay’s calling if he ever saw the light and he knows it) affecting the thus far disinteresting legacy of Derrick Williams? Very. Why don’t we care more about Derrick Williams’ befuddling decline from THE prototype of NBA small-ball four a la a 32 points and 13 rebounds (the most impressive Sweet 16 performance I’ve ever seen) to Marvin Williams meets Stromile Swift…THE GUY SHOT 56.8% FROM THREE FOR AN ENTIRE SEASON IN COLLEGE! HOW HAS SMALL BALL FOUR DERRICK WILLIAMS NOT WORKED!
I guess Duke loves churning out fools gold lottery picks…that aren’t on their team. Tyrus Thomas, anyone?
So, Rudy Gay plus Derrick Williams minus every other big that mattered in Sacramento’s rotation besides Jason Thompson (a top 20 irrelevant lottery pick of all time that essentially just stands there…Rider University?). Small ball Rudy Gay/Derrick Williams tandem haven? Or does Quincy Acy do Quincy Acy? Well, Derrick Williams is 22…Derrick Williams is 22? I’m pretty sure 95% of NBA fans think Derrick Williams is 24. Most irrelevant after thought I know. Sam Malone coaches this thing into league’s epicenter of pick and roll, Sacramento run-run-runs (devastating potential for this team in transition) and Rudy Gay puts 35% of his bullshit size up game behind him and I’m on the Derrick Williams revelation bandwagon. Quincy Acy, however, is a man. Great toss in find for Sacramento.
Boogie for Sacramento in the sense that Rudy Gay is an interim mental health booster, until
For Toronto, its Hollywood Swinging types of “Boogie.” Meaning (a.) Gay-Derozan Sydrome is no more and the Raptors aren’t subject to 35 wins by product of watching two guys squander any attempt at playing actual team basketball through countless errant, low percentage size up 15 to 19 footers; (b.) All threat of Jonas Valancinius sitting on Dwayne Casey’s face by the all-star break is off. Joey V is officially over seeing Bismack Biyombo type of offensive treatment despite his status as arguably the most promising 21 year old big on that exact end. Oh, and Joey is marginally better at defending the rim than Deandre Jordan(?); (c.) They are foreseeably bad enough for a seat at Adam Silver’s rigging of ping-pong balls for the most situationally marketable lottery pick in the history of situationally marketable lottery picks; (d.) A Venezuelan manning the one for anything Canadian post moving Kyle Lowery’s expiring deal would be equally as random as Jorge Garbajosa; And (e.) Congratulations…Unless the Memphis Grizzles effect persists, the ball starts moving, Amir Johnson/Joey V morph into a less adept yet still imposing mini Marc Gasol/Z-Bo and Toronto is better without Rudy Gay. Which will happen.
The piece turned out to be a glorified summary of a story posted a few weeks back by the far more reputable Esquire Magazine , followed by a brief and spiritually plagiarized epilogue the mildly retarded creator of the aforementioned brain fart tacked on for good measure. Little did I know, further depletion of my already diminished faith in humanity was lurking on an uncomfortably near horizon. After reading Esquire’s article, I found myself completely fucking flabbergasted as to how or why a celebrated publication would ever produce such a remarkably awful amalgamation of the written word. Continue reading →
Truly bad ass as it gets. Here’s a terse, personalized narration of my Shabazz Napier experience: From squaring off at Brandeis University as 8th graders (You had braids/glasses/were a smudge over five feet, Matthew Boden was your YABC backcourt running mate, I looked like the infinitely more whack, unkept 13 year-old version of Steve Nash circa ’08 and my budgeted Cambridge Family YMCA travel program lost to ya’ll by 12 in the ‘Chip), to watching you nail ten to twelve jaw dropping 30 foot bombs per game at Eastern Invitational Top 100 clinics courtesy of Boston University, to straight shitting in BNBL summer league games, to watching you battle the Mission Hill Legend and former Detroit Piston formally known as Will Blaylock, to the White House, to 16.4 points/7.3 rebounds/5.6 assists/50% from the field/60% from deep. From the perspective of a Cambridge resident who can lay claim to having seen each and every step of Napier’s surreal come up, there’s only one way to describe the little man’s messiah of Boston: Cold Blooded.
Who knows where Shabazz Napier’s draft day might take him. Does his Kemba Walker-esque “it” gene and continuing to marvel in winning/such insane efficiency place him just outside the top 15? Does his lack of superb athleticism and inability to consistently “blow by” relegate this “irrationally confident” warrior (as the term for sub six foot high volume scorers usually goes) to the second round? Couldn’t tell you. All I know is you’d be damned not take on a wildly efficient, far from turnover prone, creatively brilliant ball-handling, fiery competitor hailing from the City of Champions who will always have the ability bang out any look in the vicinity of 30 feet. Minimizing his weaknesses on the defensive end? The occasional forced risky pass? Dominating the ball for long stretches en route to taking ill-advised shots? Ain’t nothing but a thing. Mark my words: Shabazz Napier is a perennial pro. Don Dada of the Day indeed #HitEm
P.S. How good could Florida be come tournament time? Kasey Hill back in action as a fledgling yet more than serviceable back to up to Scotty Wilbekin, Chris Walker–the high flying 6-foot-10, 210-pound potential lottery pick based on rebounding and shot blocking alone from Bonifay–will foreseeably be off his academically ineligible, on-line class game and back in action come December 10th. Tough.
If you’re still hungover from a reckless Thanksgiving eve, still shitting out stuffing and pumpkin pie from four days ago, still mourning the loss of everyone’s favorite street racer (R.I.P. Paul Walker) and look and feel like pure fecal matter, you’re in the right place. After a one week hiatus, washed up Monday is officially back in action. And i’d venture to say most of us need it more than ever…Time to see who sucks more than us at the moment….
What’s more, the squads injury report is almost as long and star-studded as the MLB’s doping list–Deron Williams’ ankle is taking longer than expected to heal, supposed super-subs Jason Terry and Andrei Kirlenko finger’s still hurt, and as of today Paul Pierce will be joining the sittin’ out club for the next 2-4 weeks.
And most embarrassingly of all, the team took to twitter today to advertise their logical fifth option as a viable all-star candidate…
Yeah..so…Let’s not and say we did. There is virtually no argument for this baby-soft string bean to earn a front court spot among the East’s elite. On top of the fact there are tons of better players than him, any “all-star” would undoubtedly be able to help this sorry bunch to a better record than what they’re currently sporting. On the bright side for the BK boys, it’s nearly impossible they’ll miss the post-season considering the current state of their conference, and they still ain’t the worst NBA team in New York. #JamesDolan
Good luck proving that one in court, Herbie. The Grand Theft Auto series will always be better than you. Congratulations on taking home the first “suck our ass” of the week. Suck my ass, Lindsey Lohan.
To be honest, i’d suck yours…
Lastly, as Paul Walker makes his untimely and tragic ascent up to Thugz Mansion, the Fast and the Furious franchise ought to follow suit.
Paul Walker is the “Fast and the Furious.” We all saw what happened when Mike Winchell went to Tokyo without him. Simply didn’t work. One of those “just,no” type of things. The series is currently in the process of filming their 583rd installment “Fast 7,” but will have to make some major changes to the script without its backbone; Brian O’Connor. I say scrap it. Fly high Paul Walker, Fuck you Vin Diesel, Goodbye Fast and Furious. #HitEm
Love the motherfucker. Love him. I’m all about my mini-Chris Paul player comparisons. Bonafide winner in the most miserable of losing circumstances. Who cares: Do you, get better, get Parker (its depressingly inevitable) and help galvanize the league’s youngest core with arguably the most upside. In layman’s terms: Break ‘Em Off. #HitEm
I know what Larry’s thankful for…23 years old, 23.7 points, 6.3 rebounds, 3.3 assists, 2 steals, an insane eight point spike from last season in player efficiency rating (16.8 to 24.5) and a desire to be remembered. Oh, and Danny Granger as a worst case scenario $14 million expiring contract trade chip. From unknown high school prospect, to unheralded lottery product a la Fresno state, to grabbing greatness when made available and making it his own:
“Last year he came into the season thinking that he was going to be opposite Danny Granger and potentially still a fifth option on offense…He was hoping to expand that role but not really understanding that he could be the first option. He grew into that last year toward the end of the year. Then you go into the summer and he went into his summer workout program with that in mind. ‘I’m going to be the number one option and I’m going to take another giant step with my improvement and development,’ and I think that’s shown.”
Do they move him for a big at the deadline? Eh, the size, the ability to pound teams powering downhill, the prowess within 13 feet, the prowess as a pick and pop candidate with Lebron, the potential high volume rebounding on any given night, the efficiency with minimal touches (dude can go four for four in the blink of a limited eight minute stretch). Think he’s the viable, unconventional small ball power forward that makes Miami’s second unit the best its ever been. So, no. Always nice to have a former second overall pick and greatest high school talent I’ve to this day ever witnessed with a worst case scenario upside of Derrick Coleman in one of the greatest locker rooms known to basketball. Reveling in character disorder and skittles addiction to finding himself as the inevitable steal of the offseason…#Swangin.
4.) Mason Plumlee…How I Love Thee
Have to give Mason a spot in the conversation for top five with regards to rookie of the year candidate. Of the maybe three Brooklyn Nets bright spots thus far, Mason is undoubtedly one of them. The most athletic big in Kevin Garnett’s pipeline of sociopathic tutelage? I think so. Stupid upside on Mason Plumlee.
P.S. Yo, hold my puppy
5.) Vintage Dirk Nowitzki meets new-era speed of Shane Larkin paired with Monta Ellis in the backcourt means I like Dallas.
Alan Anderson hammers one off of a right wing rip-and-go, LA’s lead cut to one, Brooklyn fouls Jodie Meeks, everyone’s shlepping to the other end of the floor, and, boom, rain dance. Coach Kidd clearly telling Tyshawn Taylor to “hit me.” #HitEm with the no look, b!
Back lash coming his way? Of course. My opinion? I’m all for Gamesmanship and Grade A sideline swindling. Hilarious. Soda-Gate: Straight out of Sweet Lou Dunbar’s playbook. Tenured player-coach for the Harlem Globetrotters. Fuckin’ right, baby. Excuse me as I wipe my ass, then kiss my hand, then blow it in your face. Hi, haters.