Tackling the Chris “I’m SO European” Bosh Dilemma: Can The Ostrich Adjust?

Here’s a “No Shit Sherlock” Statement for ya: When Chris Bosh finally realizes how reprehensible his 17 post season game pace of 157 three point field goal attempts for an entire regular season is (just over half of his total career attempts), The Spurs are in trouble.

Outside of a here and there hard dive to the cup in pick/roll or a brilliant shake and bake of an inferior Thiago Splitter off the dribble, glimpses of Toronto Bosh, the guy Miami would not mind a timely reacquaintance¬†with, come at a grueling minimum. Miami has been adamant about getting Bosh more touches on the block. Nonetheless, I’ll surprisingly condone no such thing—even in lieu of my being a staunch Spurs fan and his seeing only but three looks at the rim for all of Game 1. Because (1.) I’m not sure if Bosh is mentally capable enough at this point to battle with Duncan (it just leads to the likelihood of Bosh forcing the issue in humiliating fashion much like he did in Game 7 against Indiana) and (2.) there are definitive ways in which Bosh can prove as a reliable third wheel and the Heat’s invaluable X-Factor without a single post up. Hey, I mean had Dwyane Wade not dropped the ball on boxing out, locking/chasing through off ball screens and contesting jump shots, the formula may have worked.

Game 1 saw a multitude of action that forced Bosh into a position of having to brilliantly pick his poison within the confines of a go-to mid range game; Bosh connects on one or two more pick and pops along the elbow extended (looks he connects on 45% to 52% of the time) and his narrative changes. The NBA Finals, however, are a territory in which consistency breeds champion. And Chris Bosh, in reference to philosophy rather than box score production, has adhered to a single horrid, wasteful habit deterring a full 48 minutes worth of consistency in a series where every waking possession is as important as Game of Thrones is to this Mannie Fresh lookalike: veering out to 23 feet.

But before we get into the crux of ways in which Bosh schematically avoids his poor man’s impression of Andrea Bargnani in Game 2 and the rest of this series, let’s hit some quick arbitrary bullshit to keep ya’ll engaged


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NBA Shop Talk: JJ Barea Calls Ray Allen a Pussy & The Association’s Best Chief Keef Look-alike

1.) Minnesota’s Mickael Gelabale and Chief Keef Officially Atop the NBA’s Lookalike Contest

Both “Hate Being Being Sober”…Clearly. One’s a drinker, the other is a HEAVY smoker and Peach Ciroc sipper. That’s my assumption…

2.) You the MAN, JJ Barea! Fuck His Ass (Pause)!

Was it a bit bush league? Maybe. But if your going to unleash the bullshit arm bar on a 5’9 Puerto Rican pitbull in an attempt to illegally create space, best believe you’ll receive a MEAN chest bump. Its what we undersized guards have been doing since the beginning of time. Back in 2002, I pulled the same shit. Was being a complete hardo and pressuring the ball full court in a heated game of outdoor pickup. Dude I was guarding wasn’t having it, gave me a little elbow in the chops, I bullied him with my chest and he hit the deck…HARD. Except this scenario took place in The Hood and, unfortunately, the lone white boy in the park immediately got his jaw rocked by some kid named Tyshawn who now currently resides in Suffolk County Jail (true story).

Same shit goes down in JJ’s pueblo? Ray Allen gets a knuckle full of carnitas and completely regrets ever trying to impress Hollywood with the dramatics.