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.
*We got this out about 4 hours ago but our WordPress has been fucked up.
So HOV has been taking quite some heat about his and Beyonce’s Trip to Cuba from the Republican Party because spending American dollars in a communist country ultimately funds machinery of oppression, which apparently is wrong (on Jay’s behalf). Honestly, if bathrooms/water fountains were segregated in the 50′s and Slavery was abolished just under 200 years ago then I think its okay for an African American couple to drop a couple stacks here and there in any country they please. Nonetheless, the Tea Party and I aren’t on the same page and extreme rightists have found their first excuse needed to get back at Obama for hounding Romney about his ostentatious collection of thoroughbreds/bayonets and Impeach the young brotha: Jay-Z
As we all know, That N***a Jigga most certainly is not about the conventional, tamed, sucker shit type rebuttal. Thus, he released a diss track just a couple hours prior aimed towards America’s collective body of honkey conservatives. Hotter than “Ether”? Well, nothing goes harder than “Ether.” But when you have the audacity to spit “I might buy a Kilo for Chief Keef/Out of spite I just might flood these streets” then you’ve produced an unadulterated verbal onslaught for the ages. I can just picture Rush Limbaugh inadvertently/angrily spitting coffee in his production assistant’s face and immediately rushing to a cell phone to call Bill O’Reily: “Who does this BLACK think he is?” Classic.
I digress, however, because the ultimate goal of this site is to combine sports and entertainment. And Jay-Z somehow manages to do just that by using the track to send HEAVY shots at the Brooklyn Nets:
“Woulda brought the Nets to Brooklyn for free/Except I made millions off of you f—— dweebs/I still own the building, I’m still keeping my seats/Y’all buy that bulls—-, y’all better keep your receipts.”
Realest shit HOV has ever written? Well, considering Jay-Z’s .067 percent (1/15th of a percent) stake in the Nets is worth approximately $350,000, then yes, I’d say that shot takes precedent over any Jay line I’ve ever fucked with. Without .067 percent, Mikhail Prokhorov is just another European billionaire with another “who gives a fuck” investment gone sour under his belt. Without .067 percent, Deron Williams scoffs at Billy King’s decision to pick up Joe Johnson’s $80 million contract and sails off to Dallas. Without .067 percent, Kris Humphries is probably still starting at power forward and embarrassing the League. And I’ll even go as far as to even say that without $350,000, a fond nostalgia for professional sports at the corner of Flatbush and Atlantic doesn’t exist because the Nets stay in New Jersey with a demented dancing Italian named Disco Stu. Props to Jigga for keeping it real. Salute.
As you might already know, two of the bigger names in college basketball declared for the NBA draft yesterday. And rightfully so. To go along with top five consideration, Oladipo is straight with credits and on pace to graduate in May. Benny M? Well, we all know that man doesn’t need a college degree to become a self-made millionaire. Being able to competently micromanage your own money is “cool.” But I guess there are hundreds of financial advisors out there he can entrust his career earnings with if the young Ray-Allen comparisons don’t pan out, right? But enough with the god damn cynicism, here’ a quick evaluation of what each prospect brings to the A and how they more or less compare/contrast by…Chris Kattan? #HitEm
Ben McLemore—NBA Comparison: Hay-day Ray Allen, Projected Pick: #2 to the Orlando Magic, Favorite Movie: Lean On Me Because the Principal “Crazy Joe” aka Morgan Freeman Was THAT Dude
The lasting impression of McLemore is a kid with elite, fluid athleticism, great size for an NBA two guard and a stroke with nearly flawless mechanics/range for days. Not to mention he’s explosive as all hell in transition and can finish at the rim with power. But as we all know, this class is as loaded with star-studded talent as 2002′s draft (so not really at all). With that in mind, I try to not get too excited by the young Ray Allen comparisons and thus have felt the need to meticulously breakdown his game to a T. And as a result, I’ve came across some legitimate holes in dude’s game that force me to assess him as a longstanding pro with borderline all-star potential as opposed to straight up bonafide All-Star. Then again, he was at one point considered a power forward during his high school career. So its not like he’s played the wing his entire life. Couple that with the fact that Mac is technically only a sophomore in college just now emerging as a definitive lottery prospect and we might all be eventually wowed out of our skulls. Nevertheless, I’m sticking with my assessment.
Throughout the regular season, particularly in the NCAA tournament, the trend with McLemore was as his jump shot goes, he goes. To begin with, his ball-handling skills are no where near superb. He’s weak with the left and if you crowd him he’s prone to being moved East/West (side-to-side as opposed to down “field” for the noobs). Thus, when unable to find his stroke from deep, he struggled in using the bounce to get to his midrange and take over in the half-court. Combine that with his noticeable lack of motor when things aren’t flowing like they should and you’ve got the ‘Ol infuriating Jeff Green early season on floor disappearing act (not that he’s anywhere close to being in the vicinity of a Jeffrey comparison but hopefully you get my drift. If not, then fuck you). Sure, such an observation may in fact be a product of his playing within a system and feeling the need to defer to veteran Elijah Johnson instead of attacking closeouts and taking over himself. Nonetheless, that’s what I saw and that’s what’s on scouts minds.
Believe me, I’m as high on McLemore as anyone. And while I wished he showed both a better feel for the post and for the glass, the bottom line is the current skill set combined with his ceiling for improvement makes him every bit worthy of #2 overall pick considerations over Marcus Smart. If you need offense, go with Benny.
Victor Oladipo—NBA Comparison: Avery Bradley, But a Better Ballhandler, Projected Pick: #5 to the Detroit Pistons, Favorite Dish: Korean BBQ Because That Shit is Both Delicious and SPICY!
So friggin high on this kid. He’s that somewhat undersized, CRAZY athletic swingman who dabbles in a little bit of everything; makes unbelievable reads without the ball, plays the baseline to perfection, is as good as anyone in transition, fights for garbage buckets. Dude’s motor never falls below 100 mph (not in the out of control, “what in the fuck are you doing” type of way) and he sacrifices his body like he’s under-recruited and still gunning for a scholarship offer out of Dematha Catholic. Ultimately, its his motor that makes him an elite rebounder from the guard spot, a hound in the passing lane that preys on deflections, and an impact guy when his offense can’t get going. LOVE him.
While Benny M might reign supreme with the stroke, Victor undoubtedly has a leg up in the ball-handling department; Many a time have I seen him get beat to the spot, immediately change directions with a fluid cross and find extra space needed for that next bounce to get to the rim. Scouts have indeed been hounding him about his being prone to straight line drives, which in turn get him caught up with turnovers via charges. But I’d rather have a kid who’s overly aggressive and wants to plow through you as opposed to the Austin Rivers type who looks to shimmy and go weave around (that really worked out for New Orleans). Oh, and how could I forget: he’s without a doubt the BEST on ball defender this class has to offer.
What truly separates both prospects is Victor is just a tad bit over 6’5 and is no where near the NBA three point shooter that McLemore will prove to be. He was MUCH improved this year from beyond the arc (33%). But his needing time to adjust to the A’s arc and extend his range is what, in my opinion, truly separates the value between the two at this point. All in all, I see an undersized two guard with good enough mechanics to extend his game to beyond the arc that can wreak havoc on the defensive end for 97 feet, score off the dribble/off the ball and BOUNCE with the best of them. Not to mention he’ll be in Slam Dunk Contest within the next three years. Consider that a guarantee. I’m sure Lawrence Frank is salivating because that description and his highlight tapes (above) just SCREAM an Avery Bradley with better ball handling skills in the making. He’ll be a great compliment to Brandon Knight and Greg Monroe.
Channel 6–Miami Heat player Chris Bosh and his wife returned home from his lavish 29th birthday party to find they had been robbed of $340,000 worth of watches, rings and purses, Miami Beach Police said Thursday. Police said they got the call about the burglary at 12:30 a.m. Bosh and his wife had left their two children at home with two housekeepers as they celebrated his birthday at Briza on the Bay on Bayshore Drive in Miami. The Moroccan themed party included belly dancers and fire breathers. And a camel named Henri greeted guests. The festivities started at 9 p.m. When the Boshes got home they realized their closet had been ransacked, police said. No one who was home heard anything, and apparently the thieves handpicked the items they were stealing, police said. Bosh’s 2012 NBA Championship ring was left untouched, but they took what they wanted from jewelry box, police said.
Hey, at least this highway robbery is far from the Shaun Rogers Fountain Blue hotel room incident. But let me ask you something right quick: Can a brotha just enjoy his 29th birthday with his once soiled by Lil Wayne wife all while being entertained by Moroccan belly dancers, fire breathers and a camel named Henri? No. Can he keep camel Henri? For a hefty price, of course. Simply amazes me that a.) a dude of his basketball pedigree cannot for just one day escape some shape or form of humiliation and b.) he legitimately hired a camel named Henri to welcome guests with open hooves. Where in the fuck did you rent Henri? If he and Bubba Watson’s Hovercraft aren’t mine mine by my 23rd birthday I’ll throw a diva shit fit.
66.8%: That was the probability of Miami and the greatest player of my generation (maybe ever) extending their streak to 28 games according to Accuscore when run across 10,000 different simulations. And to many, without Joakim Noah, Richard Hamilton, Marco Bellineli and, of course, Derrick in the lineup, the remaining 33.2% awarded to the Bulls appeared generous. But instead of succumbing to The King’s reign of 25.2 points, 8.6 rebounds, 8.2 assists and god-like 31.5 player efficiency rating over the last 10 games, Chicago responded with a toughness, resiliency and defiance characteristic of the undermanned Americans at The Battle of New Orleans. The result: The best win the franchise has seen in maybe the last ten years and an indelible mark on the legacy of “underdog.”
Forever will I remember Jimmy Butler hammering a one handed lob over the Ostrich and giving him the Gas Face. Forever will I remember Kirk Heinrich making aspiring white boy Midwest point guards proud by yanking the ball clean out of Bosh’s hands. Forever will Luol Deng’s looking like 20 times the max contract guy that Josh Smith thinks he is, and Nate Robinson’s last minute right handed scoop finish followed by a vivacious chant of The Village People’s “YMCA” from Chicagoans remain with me. And last but not least: Forever will I remember Lebron purposely laying his shoulder into Carlos Boozer as a response to Taj Gibson’s hack that surprisingly made me question if James could mentally hang with late 80′s Bad Boy Pistons NBA basketball (I’m kidding…).
Am I over exaggerating this victory and sucking Miami’s teet? Well, if you consider that (1.) this might be the most important regular season game since Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s 39 points ended the 1972 Lakers 33 game win streak, (2.) it came at the expense of another Lebron James awestruck performance and (3.) had the “they aren’t really going to lose this one, are they?” feel reminisient of New York’s spoiling of New England’s quest for 19-0, I’d say I’m doing the victory justice and Bill Simmons proud. Say high to Buster Douglas, Rulon Gardner, and Rollie Massimino for me, Chicago. Thank you for the Memories.
Sincerely,
Chris Kattan.
P.S. I thought of the New England/New York 19-0 reference far before Bill Simmons said it on post game. So don’t you go ahead and assume no funny stuff…
Literally the wisest Youtube subscription/follow/”like” you could ever possibly make. The Roy Hibbert voice over will have you ROLLING: “Damn, these hoes is loud. I’m fucking something tonight!” Nothing, however, beats Vol. 5 where they voice over Paul Pierce at a charity event in LA post winning banner #17 all while mobbing to “Riot” by 2Chainz. Hysterical.
“I feel like shit…I’ve been drinking some rum…” (34 second mark)
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.
A much needed “Yo Momma” circa 2004 battle staged in an alleyway full of wanksters and dude’s going ape shit over “Yo Momma looks like Kanye EAST” jokes mediated by Wilmer Valderrama to settle that beef. Personally, I would have gone out of my way to Hit ‘Em with a “Yo Momma looks like Cedric The Entertainer with a wig. Plus 25 of your 39 total points came at the free throw line. That being said, I shall call your first return to Orlando inflated. Also, I wouldn’t suck Yo Mama’s titty for 50 hot dolla bills!”
On another note, watching Dwight Howard tie his previously owned NBA record for most free throw attempts in a single game live would have made me burp, fart, shart, sneeze and thrown up at the SAME DAMN TIME! 39 fucking trips to the line? You know how many stoppages in play that is? Too many. Gives us every reason to assert that Shaq’s identical box score performance in his return to Orlando was far more impressive. Dude only took three total free throws all game. Not to mention he had the autistic Michael Doleac on the bench with his head tilted slightly towards the left and a lifeless stare on his face after getting hammered on multiple times. Should have let Dwight aka Baby Back bitch showcase his mediocre (yes, mediocre) post game. Can’t stand comparing this performance to those of Hall of Fame centers returning to their old homes.
P.S. Has the rumor of flat-lining after burping, farting, sharting, sneezing and puking at the SAME DAMN TIME been dispelled yet? I shit you not that that used to be an urban legend back in the day. Some kid named Josh (can’t remember his last name and its killing me) accomplished the near insurmountable feat in my brother’s 4th grade Humanities class. Yes, I have first hand knowledge of him never instantaneously dying. But I’m pretty sure he died several years later. So there has to be some sort of existing correlation, right?
As we all know, Brandon Knight was decapitated, pulverized, violated and poster child-ed in one breath by Deandre Jordan last night. And while the kid will undoubtedly go on to have a accomplished, successful career, his NBA existence will surely always be defined as the dude who’s soul spontaneously combusted on March 10th, 2013 in his attempt to interrupt a CP3 to Daddy Jordan Oop. Yes, Brandon will unfortunately be considered a “Loser” from here on out. But he is far from the first to experience excruciating moments of “Loserdom” that forever will haunt an athlete via social media and athletic post traumatic syndrome; Byron Russell being shimmy-shimmy yammed by the signature MJ pullback cross over, Chris Webber’s timeout call against North Carolina that cost Michigan a Natty Chip, Blake Griffin turning Timofy Mozgov into a “Monster Tard.” All of these moments are attached to the legacies of such individuals and allow us fans to taunt them relentlessly till the day they die no matter how successful they turn(ed) out to be; “Remember that fahhhkin time you got shitted on???”
Here’s a list (in no order) of 15 moments in College Basketball/NBA history where dude’s caught a big fat Smash Mouth L on their foreheads for succumbing to inescapable embarrassment after being crossed up, dunked on, blocked, or eating vaseline. Hit ‘Em
2.) Corey Brewer Has Derek Gone Fishin’ For Dignity
Arguably my favorite bang of all time. Definition of jaw dropping. Corey Brewer rises up about 3 giant feet outside of the restricted area, D-Fish looks primed to take the conventional white man’s charge. But as Corey takes his principles of verticality to the extreme, Fish is caught daydreaming and is then forced to gently swipe at CB’s nuts as the Staples Center is sent into an awkward moment of silence. Get ya Chumbawamba on, ya fahhkin losahhh.
3.) Stephon Marbury Catches the Blues After Winning Championship in China
You cry after pouring in 41 for the Beijing Ducks in the China Basketball League’s Championship game and you, Stephon, give me no choice but to erase my memory of you ever having played in the NBA. An example of where the consumption of vaseline contributes to poor mental health in African Americans…STARBURY GOT THE GAME ON SMASH! ITS OVA, CUT THE CHECK!
4.) White Boy Crosses White Boy
As a former fellow white boy baller, there is one staple rule to white on white action: do not get crossed. Fuck up and break an ankle in an isolation situation? Each and everyone one of your black teammates will ruthlessly crack on you. Trust me, I know from personal experience. Just like JJ, I laughed it off in public. Appeared entirely unfazed. Get home later that night and start puking all over myself, proceeded to eat a five pounds of Friendly’s ice cream and cried myself to sleep. Him and I will forever be losers in our own right…Fuck
5.) Lebron Puts Rasheed Wallace’s Bald Spot on Blast
Lebron’s armpit to Sheed’s bald-spot. Classic. Getting caught on the wrong end of the of not only the defining moment of the 2007 NBA Finals, but of LBJ’s first five years in the League is a terrible hit. What a LOSER.
6.) Ty Lawson BANGS on the Entire Democratic Republic of Congo
“That should be against the law…SON.” Indeed, Mark Jackson
7.) Josh Smith Shows Why He is Undeserving of a Max Contract
Losers only get punched by Jeremy Lin. Enough Said.
8.) The King Sends Jason Richardson’s 360 Breakaway Dunk to the Dog House
God damn show boating son of a bitch. In game Tom Foolery. Pure ignorance. Love how J-Rich even has the audacity to argue the no call. You, my friend, will never be able to outlive that boneheadedness. Thank you for the memories, Lebron
9.) Hakim Warrick, Stop Ya Final Four Tea Bagging, Kid!
Exposed genitalia in and around Royal Ivey’s mouth…How dare you not protect your kids, Rick Barnes. No wonder Ivey never ended up having a productive NBA career. Minus the banana in the rectum, I’d say the etiology of both Ivey and THIS loser’s depressive symptoms are quite similar.
10.) Baron Davis Sends AK-47 into a Drunken Stupor
One time for that nowA Clock Work Orange looking ass mind! Two things I love about this video: 1.) How Baron lifts his Jersey, reveals his stomach fat, and reiterates to the world that “Thickness” just slammed one down on AK’s Soviet-style flat-top and 2.) Mickael Pietrus can’t stop petting his waves. Loserdom in NBA history that will be relived until the world ends.
11.) DAMN, did Damon Jones Get BANGED On!
The definition of “Me-Oh-My.” To this day, D-Jones most certainly still can’t feel his face. You know your a loser when an autistic Michael Doleac has every reason to clown you in the locker room.
12.) Luke Ridnour Embarrasses the Entire Caucasian Community
13.) MJ Tells Kelly Tripucka and his Unborn Son to Go Fuck Himself
His Airness hits Rex Chapman with the smooth right hand in and out, Kelly Tripucka reprehensibly uses his mediocre athleticism to challenge Michael and consequently has his head placed directly in his lap. Bold Statement Alert: Never has there ever been four white men (Tim Kempton, Kurt Rambis, Rex and Jelly Kelly) in the vicinity of a poster slam…Shout out to Duke Lacrosse Midfielder, Jake Tripucka. I’ll take a loser who got pooped on by MJ as a father any day of the week.
14.) Watch My Shoes, Tyronn Lue
Definition of “Loserdom” drowning everything you’ve ever done. A courageous display of cock, grit and balls on the defensive end throughout the 2000 NBA Finals by Tyronn Lue may have been rewarded in the locker room. But to all us fans, we will remember Tyronn as the dude who got broken off by a through the legs A.I. pull back jumper to the grill, starred down, and then stepped over. LOSER.
15.) Dominique Wilkins Returns A Favor to Larry Legend
Just touched down in Chicago for the weekend. But before I hit the Windy City to explore n’ shit/get my swerve on, I thought it only right for a little comical yet insightful NBA analysis from Friday night. Can’t nobody do it like us. Hit ‘Em High? Fugg that, time to Hit ‘Em Low (not sure what that exactly means in this context but running with it seems most viable)!
1.) Can’t Get Enough Of The Birdman
Bold Statement Alert: If we were to compile a list of best savy mid/late season free agency pick ups in league history, I’d suggest that Chris “I Have the Worst Collection of Tie-Die Neck Tattoos” Andersen would rank at the list’s superior amongst the like(s) of…drum roll please…’07-’08 PJ Brown. Pat Riley rides the pursuit of a borderline out of league, heavy question mark forward (cough, cough, PJ Brown) and manages to give Lebron the last solidifying piece to his unprecedented conquest to surpass MJ: an active, productive big who can run with Lebron/Bosh-less units not named Joel Anthony. Listen, I’m a huge fan of the player who makes advanced individual statistics close to irrelevant; the nitty gritty, blue collar guys who BANG. And the ex-Child Pornography Enthusiast who once upon a time loved to get “wet” (sorry, had to do it to ya) has surprisingly proven the archetype: He’s an excellent rim runner, he’s great in the pick and roll, his hands are Magneto-esque, his IQ, although severely compromised at surface level by the ass clown body art, is high, he’s unbelievable in those crucial Lebron/Bosh-less lineups where Dwayne Wade runs the show, and is quite frequently the catalyst behind the “Me-Oh-My” extraterrestrial ally-oops as a result of his superb ability to block shots in bounds. Any Boston fan who watched Miami erase that deficit to Philly last night simply scratched there head and said, “Where in the fuck was Danny on this one”?
Do I agree with Mike Wilbon in that the Derek Rose Chicago yearns for should not and cannot be a either a facsimile or shell of himself? Of course, but such a perspective only resonates with a Derek Rose who continues to ail from ACL recovery, not a Derek Rose who’s been medically cleared to play for quite sometime now. The solution to this mental anguish fuckery? Have Jim Paxson contact Andrian Peterson, request that he sit Derek Rose down and emphatically remind him that the word “pussy” shall never be associated with a superstar professional athlete whose risen from The Jungle. Ayo D, we’ve all grieved long and hard about the tear. But to see AP hit his stride in Week 1, ultimately fall nine yards short of Eric Dickerson’s single season rushing record, and claim MVP in a game where dudes are gunning for your lower body on every single possession cannot and will not allow me to sympathize any longer. Time to stop doing your best Paul Rabil loserish hardo individual workout impression (Rabil’s been known to do that), acting like you suffer from a wide-set vagina and join your teammates on the floor for at least 10 minutes a game.
3.) Christ Almighty Does Portland Need a Bench!
Bold Statement Alert #2: Prior to the deadline, I’m confident that you could consider the Trailblazers one of the most confined to a five man rotation teams with actual playoff hopes in league history. Through their first 35, we watched Damian, JJ, Frenchman Batum, Aldridge and Wes literally carry Portland to one of the more surprising starts to this year’s NBA season. But as expected, the fuel inefficient red and black Chevy Tahoe eventually had to be taken in for some serious body work and Portland soon slipped out of playoff contention. Why? Because Victor “I’ll Calll You Fran Vasquez Because Your Another Underachieving Spaniard” Claver, Joel “The Australian Bum” Freeland, Meyers “I’ll Be a Stud One Day But I’m Just Not That Capable Right Now” Leonard, Ronnie “I Could Literally Give a Flying Fuck Who You Are” Price, Will “Shout out to Brewster Academy” Barton, and Luke “Why’d I Ever Shave My Head” Babbit couldn’t score the rock to save their lives. The Eric Maynor pickup was brilliant and last night his 20 points and 6 assists off the bench showed us that Portland should have no business being 2 and half games out of 8th place in the West; Eric Maynor got his, Wes Matthews’ injury plagued production/the continued inability for the rest of the bench to do jack shit was offset and the 35 and 9 from Damian, 23 and 11 from Hickson and 26 from Lamarcus was justified. Can’t wait to see how this team plays out as they begin to reel in more draft picks and buffer that bench through free agency. Let’s just hope God tells Knee Injuries to go “suck on rope,” as my nasally Jewish mother would say.
P..S. The 136 points put up in San Antonio by Portland was not only the largest winning margin against the Spurs this season, but also the most post scored against the Spurs since 1990. “Me-Oh-My”
4.) Kobe Bryant Bailing ‘Em Out AGAIN
I don’t think I’ve enjoyed anything more than watching The Mamba put his finishing touches on the best individually inspired comeback of the NBA season by first making Aaron “I resemble a frat bro who plays intramural basketball at Alabama” Gray look like a monster tard for the terrible attempt at jumping/slowing the ball handler and then hammering in the lane. More memorable heroics in the Kobe archive for that ass!
