We had the heart of a champion, we didn’t lay down, and now The Knicks, as Jason Terry said in his post game interview, are, “Realllll tight.” Let us, that is me, Chris Kattan, part some valuable yet comical insight on last night’s utter display of pure Grit and Balls. “We scrapin…..” #HitEm
P.S. Before we get started, I’d like to address the following: If from Boston and you are “loving” what Jordan Crawford did last night then punch yourself in the grill. Next to Fab Melo, dude is the biggest lame duck in the NBA right now. What he did last night wasn’t funny. I’m not playing games. We aren’t trying to inject enthusiasm or reason into the Knicks. I don’t care if you didn’t actually say anything about KG (whomever) getting it on with La La. Shut the fuck up and stop trying to draw unnecessary attention because your upset over being benched for the series entirely. Like I said before Game 5, I’m scapegoating the shit out of Jordan “The Cancerous Lower Back Mole” Crawford if we lose this series. I’ll be writing Danny hate mail if we re-sign him.
1.) Why Hasn’t Anyone Asked Jason Kidd About Why He Let Kenyon Bury The Knicks?
Believe me, I’m just as depressed as someone watching the Elephant Man for the first time over this. Fucking sucks.
I hate to say it, but we just don’t have the defiance, charisma or character of a Celtics team that goes into post season contention underrated and pulls off the upset because of how tough we are. Instead of maybe experiencing a sustained flash of that character for a full 48 minutes, Game 2, in the blink of an eye, turned from what appeared to be a potential steal in New York through the first half to an official display of our actual basketball profile: we are lead by a warrior inside who has just turned 45 in wear and tear years and an all time great from the wing who at this point in his career can’t consistently rise to the occasion against one of the best swing men to ever grace these floors. Oh, how could I forget, we also don’t host a lead guard capable of demonstrating NBA lead guard decision making skills and a rotation off the bench who’s current average height is 6’3 and can’t fill it up on a consistent basis to save their life. LOVE Jeff Green, however. Dude’s in the cool. He’s proved himself to be a surefire build around Rondo piece for the future (IF Rondo’s back; deal him and Danny Ainge christens his own undoing).
Jeeesh, I guess its time to face the facts after having broken us down in that light: We ain’t winning. Yes, I’ll be in the stands for games 3 and 5, the two games which I think we’ll steal. Nevertheless, when it goes back to New York, there is no fucking way we steal two in MSG. The addition of Kenyon Martin officially gave them full blown toughness, the 6th Man Award claimed control over JR’s conscience and now he’s playing like a legit all-star, Carmelo is well…consistent to say the least, Raymond Felton is crushing our backcourt (FYI, when he plays well the Knicks don’t lose) and Tyson Chandler has yet to unleash his true impact on a game. So, uh, yea. Point blank, we can’t fuck with them.
Had the privilege of watching the best game the NBA has offered all season…with a stubby, moderately obese black women named Latoya hollering utter nonsense in my ear…and I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything. Jeff Green’s above and beyond defiance of expectations that have unfairly traveled with the 26 year-old STILL in the 18 month process of recovering from a FUCKING aortic root aneurysm (a process in which you essentially have to relearn EVERYTHING from a physical standpoint) is spoiled by yet another bone chilling, bad ass Lebron James/TD Garden performance. Am I pissed? Can’t say I am. I bleed an appreciation for great basketball more than I do green and white. Sorry. Time for another hilarious yet insightful recap of Boston’s inability to thwart a Lebron James takeover. Typical. Hit ‘Em
1.) Fuck Shane Battier and His Bullshit “Crafty” Antics
Indeed, Monte. Indeed. Outside of a beautiful elbow jumper he nailed off a pick and roll with Jeff Green towards the latter half of the third quarter, I’d say that mafucka was COOKED. Most underrated aspect of the mortifying experience was how Jason Terry confidently walked to the free throw line, banged one, and then motioned “count it” with his right hand after Lebron was delivered that technical for giving the “You just got banged on” stare…shaking my darn head.
Obviously, quite the stretch (Obviously). But oddly enough, a Bostonian was rocking a Reggie Lewis Hardwood Classics Throwback three rows in front of me. And as Jeff Green poured in a “Is this REALLY fucking happening??” 19 first quarter points on a variety of uncharacteristically bullish drives, one man fast-breaks and catch/shoot threes, I couldn’t help but think that the ghosts of Boston’s what could have been perennial all-star/legendary duo of hybrid fours were out and about in the Garden. An UNSTOPPABLE Jeffrey G who gave every Miami Heat perimeter defender fits at least more than once through 48 minutes? Ghosts…Dude.
EVERYTHING he did was in attack mode and was North/South as opposed to East West; There was none of that bullshit hesitation off of catch and rip opportunities from the wing, none of that failing to abuse mismatches—All of which had remained characteristic of Jeff in some shape or form in every game besides Phoenix (Denver in Denver MAYBE) through this Rondo-less stretch. The recurring note to self of, “If Jeffrey could stop it with the lulls he’d probably be an All-Star” plaguing Boston fans? Poof! Vamoose, son of a bitch! J to the Grizzeen! Fans wanna knock me, GM’s wanna box me in.
4.) Fan of the Night: Latoya From God Knows Where in the North Shore
This bitch was OFF THE CHAIN for 48 minutes. Loved sitting three seats over from Latoya and her embarrassingly awkward Asian lady friend. Provided some sweet, loud outlandish commentary throughout the entire game. Wish I had gotten her contact information. Based on the Harlem Shaking, I’d have hit that ‘FO SHOOOOO!
5.) Jordan “Jodie Foster” Crawford…I Hate You So Much
The herky, jerky fast break right hand reverse layup on the left side of the cup? The BIG fourth quarter three from the right wing to put Boston up 96 to 83 with about eight minutes left? Could literally give two shits. Yes, the comparison to Jodie Foster is somewhat non sequitur in that Jordan Crawford doesn’t get “raped” by NBA competition. But because Crawford essentially rapes Boston’s on court production with ABSURD pull up attempts from three feet beyond the arc, struggling to create off of pick and rolls because he’s neither explosive nor strong enough to blow by the hedge defender and ruining defensive possessions with boneheaded, unnecessary reach in fouls, I’d say that he, much like that vivid brutal sexual assault scene in The Accused, violates our eyes and soul. Straight up statutory rape on the floor as opposed to on a late 80′s Pac-Man Arcade machine.
It might be more accurate to nickname Jordan after the six or so dudes convicted of raping Cheryl Araujo and liken Boston to Jodie Foster. But I’m enjoying “Jodie Foster” Crawford far too much not to stick with it. Hopefully the nickname has the same effect that “Doo Doo Stained Spandex” had with Jeff Green. Praise the Lord if that happens. I’ll GLADLY shut my mouth.
So after AB added ferocious bite to his pitbull bark and locked Golden State’s Baby faced Assassin into the quietest 25 points these eyes have ever seen (let us also not forget that he heavily contributed to Jarrett Jack’s 1 for 9 performance), Boston sports writers have been sucking his defensive oriented teet without rest. And I ain’t hatin’, because we are undoubtedly watching the best on ball defender since The Glove Gary Payton. Bold assessment to compare the former #1 player in the class of 2009 (wow, that makes me feel like shit) and once upon a time next Monta Ellis to the consensus choice as the best defensive guard in league history? I’ll gladly tell that noise to go royally fuck itself. But for now, let us not get lost in the comparisons, bask in the glory of this near 8 minute highlight reel of defensive prowess that I could watch for hours on end, and acknowledge that he’s allowing a league second best 0.678 points per play. Bravo, Avery.
1.) Wholeee Bunch of Donkeys out in Sacramento’s Front Office
Add this deal to the book of Sacramento’s recent history of dumbfounding transactions! The combined $64 million awarded to Marcus Thorton and Jason Thompson over the next five years? Pshh, giving up the fifth pick of the NBA Draft four months into his career to save $1 million dollars in salary blows that Sin Foolery/Fuckery out of the water! Daryl Morey and his Rockets add a prospect with upside that will undoubtedly be fulfilled and enough cap room to target marque free agents this summer while Sacramento is forced to lament about not having moved Robinson on draft day for far more valuable assets. BOOOO!!!
2.) God Dammit, Danny. God Dammit.
For those of you who aren’t up on game, its important to note that I, much like the Soulful Gentle Genius aka Curtis Mayfield and his trademark “Keep On Keeping On” believing Motto, have forever been an advocate of the “one road win in the playoffs and this Rondo-less Boston team can beat anybody” slogan. Nevertheless, I still have some tough love that must be delivered to my favorite GM about his recent transaction. While rash, remember that these criticisms are from the perspective of a Milt Palacio era C’s fan who will forever believe in Boston’s near impossible quest for 18. Hit ‘Em.