Kids…what a flick. Went straight for the “wow” factor there. Let’s hope Rajon doesn’t channel his inner Brain Game anger onto Danny Ainge after he promotes KG to player-coach in lieu of Doc Rivers abandoning Boston (its the only way of convincing KG to stay in town, brother!). Man, is the 2013-2014 season going to suck ass…Management will regrettably/inevitably either buyout the remaining $15 mill on my childhood hero’s contract (makes no sense to trim $10 million off our committed salary when he’s an expiring contract worth $15 mill and a movable asset) or “preferably” sign and trade him and Avery Bradley for Josh Smith (an AAU player only “worthy” of the dreaded max with Doc Rivers at the helm). In addition to my sorrow, amnestying Courtney Lee is of no relevance to Danny Ainge even though he’s due $16.4 FUCKING million over the next three years (HE PLAYED 19 TOTAL MINUTES THIS POST SEASON! WHAT IN THE FUCK IS GOOD WITH THAT CONTRACT!), Fab Melo still can’t walk without tripping over his two feet and KG most likely will part ways. Bring on the re-building period, folks. Let’s just hope management can creatively and brilliant finagle its way into preventing a decade’s worth of horrid basketball memory. If I even have to think twice about the days of Kedrick Brown and Jerome Moiso I’ll off myself.
P.S. If Nate Robinson fails to make Courtney Lee types of guap this post season then I vote hate crime.
As we all know, Jeff Green’s buzzer beating lay up against Indiana on Wednesday once again launched a return back to the most irk worthy discussion on earth: Are the Celtics better without Rajon Rondo? Frankly, I’ve shook my head damn near enough times to induce a seizure over the conversation. I brought forth the somewhat statistically based argument asserting that Boston is in no way better off without a potential 44 point, 10 assist, 8 rebound threat proven to make his teammates more effective at their disposal once before. Must I delve into this bullshit twice? Well, considering that far too many Boston radio show hosts continue to believe Rajon wouldn’t buffer the C’s chances at punking Miami en route to the biggest upset in playoff let alone sports history, I guess its time I break ‘em off with that Rondo vs. Rondo-less Nawlage. Hit ‘Em, Boiiiii!
The Kevin McHale People’s Elbow Shall Be Delivered to Whom Ever Continues to Side with the “Life Is Better Without Rondo” Argument
10 Day Contract for Shavlik Randolph…Fuck Yea, Dude! Let’s just say Shavy’s boy crushing the 40 (he shall be named Meat Stick Tim) and I are ECSTATIC about our third favorite white boy in Duke Blue Devil history behind JJ Reddick (#2) and John Schyer (#1; that’s right, fuck you Kyle Singler) lacing ‘em up for 10 days with the Big Green Machine. Why? Because the kid HAS to officially rank amongst the most hysterical “misfits” to play for Doc. “Fall from Grace” Randy entered Cameron Indoor as the 12th ranked prospect in the class of 2002, with a 70 point performance as a senior at Broughton High in Raleigh, N.C. (a record was once previously held by Pete Maravich) and TWO McD’s All American awards only to emerge as arguably the biggest recruiting bust of the decade for the 2000′s. He then goes undrafted, gets signed by the Sixers, fills in for an injured Chris Webber en route to a solid four points and four rebounds over six games, and then breaks the FUCK out of his ankle in practice guarding Andre Iguodala. Like, I’m talking Lawrence Taylor nearly having a cocaine/adrenaline induced heart attack after realizing the extent to which he had just mutilated Joe Theisman’s ankle/femur/everything type shit. No really, Iggy actually described the incident as ”It was like a Joe Theismann thing.” Now, 2013? He’s back in the A screaming for a chance at redemption and I LOVE it.
Obviously, I’ve got to evaluate what this motherfucker RANDY can bring to the table. Shall we take a look at some highlights from his stint with the Heat back in 2009? I think so.
1.) Pick & Roll Defense Baby!
Unbelievable display of instinct. He knows that Courtney Lee isn’t about that pull up three life, beautifully reads his misusing the high ball screen and understands that if he comes out too high and tries to hedge, Lee will have a clear path to the cup for a right handed layup. So, what’s his plan of action? He doesn’t show, sags into the paint, slows Courtney and gives just enough help so Yakhouba Diawara (couldn’t tell if that was Mario Chalmers or not) can recover…SHEVY RIDIN’ HIGH, BOY (if you can’t comprehend the Triple C’s reference then hop off)!
Next, we see how he operates when forced to hedge and show high help in corner/wing pick and rolls. Guy hedges HARD, pushes both Lee and Jordan Farmar off their spot and make them dribble East/West as opposed to North/South, eliminates their path of vision to hit the rolling big for an easy lay up, allows both on-ball defenders enough time to recover and then SPRINTS back to the paint. Immaculate execution. Can Doc immediately throw the motherfucker RANDY into the fire and trust him to understand Boston’s complex pick and roll schemes? I think so.
2.) Sacrificing His Body with the Charge
Your 6 foot nothing….200 AND NOTHING. So what do you do? You stick to the fundamentals and willingly sacrifice your body. You call on Chris Douglas-Roberts’ ignorance, anticipate his barreling to the bucket from a mile away, have the recognition to get both of your damn feet out of the restricted area, and take a LOAD to the chest. Great fucking work.
3.) Never EVER Give Up So what if you get your shit punched by Chris Bosh, Zaza Pachullia and Josh Boone. We applaud second effort around here. Go up, get blocked and grab a board? Ball gets kicked out and we get an extra possession. Sure, you fucked up by trying to power through and maybe should have finished with the right hand reverse two footed lay up over Brooke Lopez. But it was a high basketball IQ play unfortunately limited by prototypical shitty, white boy athleticism.
Man oh man what a Sunday it was out in Boston. And thanks to a pair of generous Jewish parents, ya boy Chris Kattan had the pleasure of seeing the game live 16 rows up from the baseline. So, without further ado, here’s some “Shop Talk” about the emotionally infused double overtime thriller. Hit ‘Em
1.) Molly McGrath…Isn’t She Lovely?
“That broad can sit on my face any fahhkin day of the week”
Was that what every Bostonian, including myself, had running through their minds whenever the stunning CSN reporter hit the megatron? You bet your ass it was. Lost it when I looked to my right and saw some prototypical, filter-less, alcohol flushed C’s fan do what appeared to be his best rendition of Patrice O’Neal’s trademark “Dirty Turkey”
2.) Its About Damn Time Management Fires the Fuck Out of Whomever They Have Coordinating the Arena Music
It’s literally unbearable. Am I what many would call a “wigger” when it comes to my strict preference for Trap Muzik and Street Club Bangers at basketball games? Sure, I’ll embrace that label any day of the week. But if you disagree with Boston’s need to join the Jay-Z “Fuck the Family Atmosphere I’m Putting on for the Hood” arena music campaign then you’ve clearly been brainwashed by commercial radio. Look, I have no problem mixing things up with the conventional Pop or EDM banger. Blaring Dropkick Murphy’s and Papi Chulo Pitbull’s Men in Black III theme song “Back in Time” with 24 seconds left to go in regulation and “Eye of the Tiger” at the tip of the first overtime? Now that’s fucking problematic. Under the newly fashioned dire circumstances circulating around this ball club, it would be in Boston’s best interest to motivate their guys with Jeezy blasting out the stadium speakers instead of some cheesy, vastly overrated inspirational montage that makes you want to run stadium stairs in a Champion grey jump suit with a crooked Stallone-esque jaw instead of smashing on gargantuan 6’11 centers. Bottom line: Stop trying to amp up Dan Dikau and Dave Cowens (I apologize, those two should never be used in the same breathe) and focus on appropriately catering to the ears of your team’s personnel. You do it in warmups, why not keep consistent and do it during games?
Ball so hard this receding hairline don’t define me! That shit cray…
Can’t believe I just said “cray.” Feel like I’m on cringe overload right now (nothing bothers me more than hearing dude’s say that shit. But it had to be done or else the play on lyrics isn’t comprehensible at first glance). I digress, however
I’ve endlessly said this to my boys, but until you’ve had the opportunity to watch Lebron James warmup/play live then you’ll never understand how bone chillingly impressive and supernatural the Chosen One truly is. Its CRAZY. For instance, you watched the redeemed, far less vilified LBJ take warmups 30 minutes before tip on Sunday. And while he exuberantly bounced around mouthing the lyrics to B.O.B.’s “Still in This Bitch” you noticed that he’s not only thicker than Brandon Bass but also just as tall as Chris Bosh. Ever heard the myth of Lebron never revealing his actual height and weight? If so, fail to expel such lore because he is neither 6’8 nor 250 pounds. Try 6’10, 270. You then take that newly reconstructed image of Lebron, watch him drill three after three in Paul Pierce’s grill, hit the glass with the competence and power of Charles Barkley, display Steve Nash vision and attack the cup like a incomparable bulldozer en route to a 34 point, 16 rebound, 7 assist performance and say to yourself, “Good God, what in Fuck’s name am I watching right now?” Looking for a cool, empowering African American folkloric hero, Quentin Tarantino? Well then look no further, you ass clown, because the self-proclaimed King has got you covered.
4.) Jeff Green Pulled a Diddy and Sent Chris Bosh Through His 5th Depression
Jeff Green rose to the occasion, both literally and figuratively. I could give two shits about the box score, yesterday afternoon was undoubtedly the kid’s best performance of the season. He was methodical, he was efficient, he brought grit and balls and most importantly he was impactful as opposed to invisible. Like I’ve said before, on paper Green possesses some bonafide superstar-esque qualities. And when the “bitch” in Jeff decides to take a hiatus, the Celtics are equipped with a look that no other team in the NBA possesses: A freakishly athletic 6’10 hybrid swing man who can shoot the three, handle the rock and pull up off of big to big pick and rolls like a guard and defend positions one through four all while coming off the bench. Hopefully, yesterday represented his officially having packed the infuriating frail shit in a pristine box for the Olympic DMP VI/VII Jordan’s. If so, these Rondo-less Celtics could have more gas in the tank than you think.
5.) “You can write the obituary. I’m not, you can go ahead”
As I was about to hit Storrow Drive on my way back to the crib from the Garden, I was stopped at an intersection by an officer on foot. He immediately pointed to my somewhat totaled bumper and at that point I thought I was fucked as he motioned me to open my window. Instead, he incomprehensibly muttered something about the game through his ski mask. Its about Rondo but I can’t exactly hear him so I ask, “What’s that?” He lifts his ski mask and emphatically utters, “Rondo just passed by, asked him what the deal is. Says he’s done.” Much like the time I was dumped the day after I got braces in the 9th grade, that memory will forever echo throughout my conscience.
The realistic, aspiring basketball analyst in me feels inclined to write this team off completely. The C’s without Rondo? That’s like Fleetwood Mac without Stevie Nicks; neither an Eastern Conference Finals birth nor a Grammy is on the horizon. But as I watched Doc Rivers confidently address the media about what his expectations now look like and then subsequently remembered the resolve those Rondo-less C’s battled with for a grueling 57 minutes against Miami, I asked myself the following: Could this very well be an example of the Ewing Theory in action? Much like those 1999 Knicks who lost Captain Big Dick Pat Ewing to an achilles injury against Indiana in the Eastern Conference Finals, do the C’s find a way to play better without their best player? Is this a reenactment of Mo Vaughn signing with the Angels for $80 Million, nobody believing that the Sox have can enough power behind their bats to finish above .500, and then being spooked by 94 victories, a wild-card berth and their first playoff series in 13 years?
While I hate using Mo Vaughn and Rajon in the same breathe, I most certainly think this C’s team is capable of forgoing an unexpected, more than magical run. Wildly wishful thinking? Will I have hundreds of outsiders chastising me for evaluating Boston’s future with my heart? I’d be wrong in saying otherwise. All I know is that Ubuntu is amongst us all, KG will never allow himself to wallow in playoff-less/first round humiliating Miami beat down memories of his last NBA season, Doc’s bunch is a Timofy Mozgov/a large, mobile 7’0 plug away from over qualification of the defensive end and that Avery Bradley and Jeff Green could very well be poised to play the best basketball of their career. Matter of fact, Jeff Green is a SURE shot to emerge from his medically induced slump (he is on schedule but not there yet in terms of fully recovering from aortic aneurysm surgery) not just because of the availability of minutes but because no one wants to hear the wrath of the NBA’s ugliest fan’s relentless chirp you about not being worth all 40 million. Yes, to declare them contenders is fucking retarded. But to write them off completely isn’t exactly great for your mental health either.
Clearly, the highlight from last night’s Cavs/Celtics game is not Kyrie’s 40 point ballbuster that sent Boston packing for their 4th straight loss and headed towards the inevitable breaking of their nucleus by February 21st, not Jeff Green’s second Lennay Kekua-esque disappearing act in four nights, not the worst performance from Paul Pierce these eyes have arguably ever seen, but Cleveland’s production team and their use of the Manti Te’o invisible girlfriend kiss cam.
Look, I’m all in favor of the classless joke—I beat the “My father died at Auschwitz. He fell off a watch tower” knee slapper into the fucking ground. Sorry, the inner cynical, self-hateful Jew can’t help it. But am I crazy for saying that professional sports organizations should just stop it all together with the mocking of Te’o? Until Te’o gets it over with and confesses this whole hoax was a systematic attempt at concealing his homosexuality, then yes, I agree, he should never hear the end of it. Does that mean franchise owners should feel it necessary to condone such public mortification? Eh, I’m not so sure about that. P R O F E S S I O N A L S distance themselves from the bizarre, yet controversial national news stories. Sure the Manti Te’o kiss cam gave fans a good ‘ol chuckle (hell, I laughed this morning even though I wanted nothing to do with Cleveland after that C’s loss). But from the standpoint of those who really matter in the sports world, its terrible press. Think about it this way: either your consciously preparing the kid for a career full of never ending hateful knee slappers or further humiliating a closet homosexual. The latter appears as the more likely scenario. LZ Granderson would agree in saying that’s something you leave for the Barstools of the world to have their way with and prefer to separate yourself from.
By the way, the Dallas Stars beat you too the joke. Suck on that one, Danny Gilbs
So I did it: I covered every second of NBA Christmas Day Action. Almost caved in and skipped the Clippers/Nuggets game for a 10:30 pm showing of Django Unchained. But I came to my senses, bailed out on watching a full two hours and fourty-five minutes of “regenerative” raw, uncut violence in the Old South visited by black against white instead of the reverse (Don’t worry, I’m seeing Jamie Foxx and Christopher Waltz murk some honkies tonight) and accompanied Bill Simmons, Jalen Rose, Magic Johnson and Mike Wilbon in completing the near 12 hour challenge. So, without further ado, here are my highlights/take-aways from the festivities
Looks like the writing is officially on the wall, folks: Boston is making a move for a legitimate center before the deadline. If you are a Celts fan, the decision shouldn’t come as much of a surprise. But Doc’s transparency certainly does.
Honestly, I love the cut-throat approach. Its about damn time he sent a message to those guys who are clearly on the trading block (I’m talking about you Brandon Bass, Jeffrey Green & Courtney Alexander Lee). And if Danny Ainge is stupid enough to not relinquish his Bromance (I will get to you the love you seek and more…I digress) with Jeff Green and believes moving Brandon Bass and Avery Bradley (something I would feel very uneasy about but think it undoubtedly might be necessary) would royally fuck with team chemistry, well then at least Coach is trying his absolute best to ignite a fire under Jeff Green and his offensively low sense of urgency.
Lastly, I don’t think there’s a man on this earth who hates Jason Collins more than I do. Look I get it, Danny Boy clearly signed his ass because he magically balled the fuck out against us the first round of last years playoffs with the Hawks. But the key word here is magically; He has without a doubt been one of the worst centers, let alone players, in the NBA for about the last 5 years. I almost shit my pants when hearing that we signed that bum and not Greg Stiemsma for the same price ($1 million). God Dammit.
You are…electric? Obviously we can’t forget about Luol and Joakim. But without the energy Robinson brings to that Bulls second unit, Chicago is in a world full of shit, unbearable boredom and mediocrity. Real talk, is there not a cooler dude in the NBA than Nate? Earlier this year, I was actually asked the question by HitEmWhereTheyAint associate, Rud Tha Stud aka Big Gucci Sosa, if you could switch places with any guy in the league who will never be voted an all-star, who would you be? The answer: Nate Robinson, duh. Think about it. He’s forever imprinted his name in the history of basketball with not one but two memorable slam dunk contest victories, he’ll play until he’s 40, he’s respected and well-liked by virtually everyone in the NBA (except for the nuck figga Jason Collins), his kids are beyond adorable and ratchet as fuck (in the genuinely hilarious, not inappropriately outspoken, fat black chick kind of way), and if given a chance the man will produce no matter what city he’s in. Shit, I’d much rather be him than that New Mexico Bumbaclot Danny Granger (THE most overrated cat in the Association) any day of the week. Stoked for the man whose game I’ve idolized and tried to replicate since his days back at the U of Washington but to absolutely no avail because I’m flat footed, pigeon toed and have a vertical leap of 27 inches (wow, what a horrible way to break my down my athletic ability. Fuck, I should have played Lacrosse…)
Nate Robinson and the fam
As for Mr. Mike Gorman (the legendary play-by-play guy for the C’s over at Comcast SportsNet): C’mon man, you know better than that. We all know Joakim recorded his first triple double back on Feb. 22nd of 2012 against the Bucks. I guess all that announcing you did during the Summer Olympic Games for the most idiotic sport on earth (yes, Hand Ball) has really slowed your cognitive processing…Much love for Mr. Gorman, nonetheless.
P.S. Being a Celtics fan right now sucks dick. Really Does.