Whatever you do, don't make Scottie Pippen angry. Why not? Because he will absolutely blast you on NBA.com. Seriously. After the Knicks traded for Steve Francis, Pippen laid waste to pretty much everybody who ever was. Himself included.
Scottie Pippen: So very angry.
I don't know why Scottie's so angry. Maybe somebody took a huge, steamy dump in his corn flakes, or maybe Michael Jackson's plastic surgeon refused to fix his nose. It could be anything. But his rant reveals much of what goes on in a retired player's mind. First of all, he rags on Francis for demanding trades, even though Scottie himself demanded to be traded, many times, first from Chicago and later from Houston. He also said that Francis shouldn't have portrayed himself as a franchise player when he clearly wasn't one. Of course, didn't Pippen also portray himself as a franchise player? Someone will have to refresh my memory, because I forget how many championships Scottie won without you-know-who.
The best part of the rant was when he went after Eddy Curry...and himself:
My second favorite part came after Scottie tried to make sense of the Knicks bizarre personnel choices. He finally lost it and said: "What are you going to do with these guys?" (The italization was retained from the original article.) Maybe Scottie has stock in the Knicks or something. But can't you just imagine him yelling out that line, then dropping to his knees, throwing his hands in the air, and then screaming "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" to the heavens? Okay, maybe it's just me.
I don't know why Scottie's so angry. Maybe somebody took a huge, steamy dump in his corn flakes, or maybe Michael Jackson's plastic surgeon refused to fix his nose. It could be anything. But his rant reveals much of what goes on in a retired player's mind. First of all, he rags on Francis for demanding trades, even though Scottie himself demanded to be traded, many times, first from Chicago and later from Houston. He also said that Francis shouldn't have portrayed himself as a franchise player when he clearly wasn't one. Of course, didn't Pippen also portray himself as a franchise player? Someone will have to refresh my memory, because I forget how many championships Scottie won without you-know-who.
The best part of the rant was when he went after Eddy Curry...and himself:
"Eddy Curry's success coming to New York has been about as good as my success coming back to Chicago when my career was pretty much done."That is totally freaking awesome! I'm shedding a tear even as I write this. I may have that quote tattooed across my left butt-cheek or something. It's so true, and so sarcastic. The fact that Pippen busted on fat Eddy and himself, all in the same sentence...well, let's just say I may need to change my underwear.
My second favorite part came after Scottie tried to make sense of the Knicks bizarre personnel choices. He finally lost it and said: "What are you going to do with these guys?" (The italization was retained from the original article.) Maybe Scottie has stock in the Knicks or something. But can't you just imagine him yelling out that line, then dropping to his knees, throwing his hands in the air, and then screaming "NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!" to the heavens? Okay, maybe it's just me.
Three Guard (thre gard) noun. A guard who is allowed to both bring the ball upcourt and shoot at every opportunity.
Usage example: Kobe Bryant and Allen Iverson are the league's preeminent Three Guards.
Word History: From the book Hoops Nation: The three guard is a hybrid of the point guard (often referred to as the "One") and the shooting guard (often referred to as the "Two Guard"). The Three Guard's name derives from the fact that he not only brings the ball upcourt, the traditional duty of the One, but he also shoots it just about every time, shooting as much as the One and Two Guards combined (1 + 2 = 3, after 3, after 3). This type of guard is crucial -- even indispensable -- to any team that wants to make sure there isn't an overabundance of passing, chemistry, or team play on their squad.
You just know he's thinking "shoot".
Usage example: Kobe Bryant and Allen Iverson are the league's preeminent Three Guards.
Word History: From the book Hoops Nation: The three guard is a hybrid of the point guard (often referred to as the "One") and the shooting guard (often referred to as the "Two Guard"). The Three Guard's name derives from the fact that he not only brings the ball upcourt, the traditional duty of the One, but he also shoots it just about every time, shooting as much as the One and Two Guards combined (1 + 2 = 3, after 3, after 3). This type of guard is crucial -- even indispensable -- to any team that wants to make sure there isn't an overabundance of passing, chemistry, or team play on their squad.
And that should probably tell you how batshit it really is. After all, this is the same guy who thought he could improve a 59-win team that was about two minutes from reaching the NBA Finals by adding chemistry-killing shot mongers like Jason Williams and Antoine Walker. That's like garnishing a steak with moon dust and Smurfs. Sure it's crazy, but it's completey fucked up too.
This just in: Clowns are scary.
Riley doesn't just think the trade makes sense, though. He's freakin' excited about it. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he was humping somebody's leg when he said this:
Larry Brown wants to kill himself. But don't worry. Soon he'll just want to kill Steve Francis.
I'm not buying whatever Riley's selling. Personally, I think he's just secretly glad there's someone in the league who makes worse personnel decisions than he did last summer. Because as long as someone out there is willing to pay Maurice Taylor almost $10 million a year, he can feel a little bit better about paying Antione Walker $7 million a year...for the next...six years...dear god, what has he done...
Riley doesn't just think the trade makes sense, though. He's freakin' excited about it. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he was humping somebody's leg when he said this:
"I'm going to tell you right now I think they've turned the corner. I really do. I know all of you look at this as one of the worst things going on in New York, but they've accumulated a tremendous amount of talent. That's all I know."I'm pretty sure he said most of that in English, but it still doesn't make any sense. The Knicks have accumulated a "tremendous amount" of talent? Has he seen the their roster? Here's a quick quiz for you, Pat. Name one Knick player who would start for the Heat. Or the Spurs. Or the Pistons. That's what I thought. Sorry to disagree with you, Riles, but the only corner they've turned is the one that leads to a bloody and brutal fan revolt. And I hope it happens soon. Actually, no I don't. Watching Isiah Thomas broker bad deal after bad deal -- smiling like a gay elf all the while -- is one of the few things that make me happy in this world. And I'm never happy.
I'm not buying whatever Riley's selling. Personally, I think he's just secretly glad there's someone in the league who makes worse personnel decisions than he did last summer. Because as long as someone out there is willing to pay Maurice Taylor almost $10 million a year, he can feel a little bit better about paying Antione Walker $7 million a year...for the next...six years...dear god, what has he done...
What is it with people selling the nasty stuff that once rubbed across a basketball player's sweaty body? First it was a bloody piece of gauze that fell out of Adam Morrison's nose, now it's a game-used towel. A dirty, bloody, game-used towel.
Okay. That's nasty.
I'm sure this is totally legit, too. Because no one could buy an NBA-licensed towel and cover it with dirt and grime. They don't even bother saying what game it was used in, or, for that matter, who supposedly used it. But forget that insanity. I want to know what sort of crazy freak would buy this thing. No one, apparently. Zero bids so far.
"This is a game used towel used in the NBA!! The towel shows AWESOME usage with dirt, sweat and blood stains. Very unique item to add to your sports collection!!"
I'm sure this is totally legit, too. Because no one could buy an NBA-licensed towel and cover it with dirt and grime. They don't even bother saying what game it was used in, or, for that matter, who supposedly used it. But forget that insanity. I want to know what sort of crazy freak would buy this thing. No one, apparently. Zero bids so far.
Phil Jackson is an asshole. Almost every time he opens his mouth, it's like little, wailing demons come pouring out. He always has something caustic to say, whether its about the officiating in a particular game, an opposing team, another coach, or even an entire city. I mean, he once made a video that compared Rick Adelman to Adolph Hitler. Adolph freaking Hitler! What's more, he even wrote a book devoted to trashing his team and its star player. Which is pretty funny, considering he's the same guy who once said "Always keep an open mind and a compassionate heart." I guess that "compassionate heart" thing doesn't apply to Los Angeles Times columnist T.J. Simers.
I don't know what the history is between these two guys. Maybe they've been involved in some kind of secret feud. Maybe T.J. had an affair with Phil's Native American headdress. I don't know. But in one recent exchange, Phil accused Simers of wife-beatery:
YOU...are an asshole.
I don't know what the history is between these two guys. Maybe they've been involved in some kind of secret feud. Maybe T.J. had an affair with Phil's Native American headdress. I don't know. But in one recent exchange, Phil accused Simers of wife-beatery:
Jesus, Phil! Somebody asks a legitimate question about player development and you respond by asking if he thugs his wife. That seems like a bit of an overreaction, don't you think? Simers, like most of the free world, thinks Kobe Bryant should let Lamar Odom take a couple shots a game. After hearing Phil say sort of the same thing, Simers noted it...and got blasted.Simers: "I just marvel at the way you've developed young players, so what can you do with Kwame Brown? Most people in town don't think Brown is going to amount to anything. Do you agree or disagree?"
Jackson: "I'm not going to answer that question. Agree or disagree, when did you stop beating your wife? It's a situation where a guy has to find some successful experiences to build on, and that's where we are."
Simers: "Have you come around and started thinking like me now -- getting more points out of Lamar Odom?"Wow. That, my friends, is superdickery.
Jackson: "I hope I never have to think like you. For sure, my relationship [with Jeanie Buss] would end quickly, I wouldn't have any friends and I'd be alone in this world."
White Gunner (wit gun'-ur) noun. A white basketball player who embodies the stereotypes typically associated with black players: natural athleticism, innate speed, superior leaping ability, a shoot-first mentality, and so on.
Usage example: Tom Chambers is the prototype White Gunner.
Word History: Chuck Klosterman recently wrote an article called White Like Larry for ESPN Page 2. In it, he discusses how author Malcolm Gladwell developed the "White Gunner Thoery," which explains that there are certain "athletic" qualities traditionally applied to black players and certain "old school" qualities traditionally applied to white players. The following is is a brief summary of Gladwell's theory.
Usage example: Tom Chambers is the prototype White Gunner.
Word History: Chuck Klosterman recently wrote an article called White Like Larry for ESPN Page 2. In it, he discusses how author Malcolm Gladwell developed the "White Gunner Thoery," which explains that there are certain "athletic" qualities traditionally applied to black players and certain "old school" qualities traditionally applied to white players. The following is is a brief summary of Gladwell's theory.
"The black/white stereotyping in basketball crudely breaks down somewhere along these lines: fast/slow; me-first/team-first; leaper/smarts and footwork; shooter/passer; ability/effort. The key psychological term here is attribution -- that is, 'What reasons do we use to account for someone's achievement?' So if we take a white player and a black player with exactly the same statistics, we might nonetheless explain their success very differently.The theory certainly explains why nearly every talented white player -- from Michael Smith to Tom Gugliotta to Adam Morrison -- has been proclaimed to be "The Next Larry Bird"...an almost guaranteed career-killer and possibly as destructive as being tagged "The Next Jordan."
"More significantly, this means we ignore aspects of someone's achievement that contradict the stereotype. Hence the 'White Gunner' -- a type of player we struggle with because he is white yet simultaneously embodies all the stereotypes we've reserved for blacks. Tom Chambers is the White Gunner poster child. Rex Chapman was another example.
"In basketball, the 'face' we're familiar with is black. We code black players by feature, so we can make endlessly subtle distinctions between players: There is a David Thompson 'type,' which is quite unlike a Grant Hill 'type,' which, in turn, is quite unlike a Gary Payton 'type.' But I think we code white players by category. They are simply 'white,' and we don't make the same kind of sophisticated distinctions among them. So we miss the 'White Gunner.'"
The good news: Your constant sandbagging, pouting, and whining has finally paid off. Now you got yourself a one-way ticket out of town, and away from the 5th worst team in the league.
The bad news...
dontbethenext.com
The bad news...
The general consensus seems to be that Adam Morrison is, in fact, the next Basketball Jesus. You know, just like Michael Smith, Danny Ferry, Christian Laettner, Mike Dunleavy Jr., and that white guy who "totally lights it up" at the local YMCA. Science is currently incapable of proving the theory that someone went back in time and cloned Morrison out of the DNA left in one of Larry Bird's old shoes, but here are the things we know for sure:
You can't tell because of the gauze, but Adam bleeds sunshine and puppy dogs.
The auction description reads as follows:
1. Adam Morrison is white.'Nuff said. It goes without saying (but of course I'll say it anyway) that you'd better start stocking up on Adam Morrison memorabilia and fast. It won't still be this cheap after he's inducted into the Basketball Hall of Fame. And what would make a better starter piece for your collection than some bloody gauze that fell out of Morrison's nose?
2. Adam Morrison can play basketball. Really well.
3. See items 1 and 2 above.
The auction description reads as follows:
"This is the game used gauze pad covered in blood from Adam Morrison. During the final 4 minutes of the first half of the NCAA college basketball game between Gonzaga and Pepperdine on Monday, February 20, 2006, Adam Morrison used this to clear a bloody nose as he continued to play. With seconds left in the first half, Morrison threw the pad to the sideline under the basket where I picked it up. Feel free to e-mail me with any questions you may have."I'm sure you'll all join me in saying: EWWWWW!!" I don't know about you, but when someone throws a bloody band-aid on the floor, I think it's usually a good idea to just leave it there. Not this guy, though. I really hope he doesn't attend WNBA games, otherwise we'll probably end up seeing Lisa Leslie's used feminine hygiene products up for sale. That would be so wrong.
eBay continues to turn our dreams into delicious candy. For only $1.99 (plus $6.00 shipping and handling), you can buy a piece of floorboard signed by Greg Ostertag.
Just look at that masterful penmanship...those long, looping strokes. Greg truly is a man of many talents.
This auction is a little suspicious, though. The seller has never bought or sold on eBay before, and the auction description says:
This auction is a little suspicious, though. The seller has never bought or sold on eBay before, and the auction description says:
"This was signed by Brown before the Rockets/Jazz game a couple nights ago."What the...? Brown?! I know Greg plays like crap, but unless he is crap (and we probably can't be sure), I don't think "Brown" can be used to accurately describe him. It isn't his middle name, either. That's Donovan. Don't ask how we know this.
Wally Szczerbiak sure has taken a beating since he was traded from Minnesota to Boston. I mean, he was having a career year before joining the Celtics, but now his scoring average (20.1 to 16.6), field goal percentage (49.5 to 44.1), and three-point field goal percentage (40.6 to 32.4) are falling faster than Hulk Hogan's sagging man-boobs. And just last night he had to be carried off the court after colliding with Utah's Matt Palacio.
Wally's fallen. And he can't get up.
The collision aggravated the mysterious injury to Wally's gimpy left knee, which apparently is held together by nothing more than some Scotch Tape and those foam packing peanuts. So...what happened? Why does Wally suck so much all of a sudden? The answer should be obvious to Celticologists everywhere. Wally's wearing Acie Earl's old number.
This signed pictured of Acie is only $0.99 on eBay. Get it while it's...hot.
Didn't anyone warn him? I know Red Auerbach isn't as involved with the team any more, and Danny Ainge is clearly engaged in a personal duel with Isiah Thomas and Kevin McHale for the title of "General Manger Most Likely To Inspire Mass Fan Suicides." But still, letting Wally don the Big Ace's old number is like standing by and wordlessly watching your drunk friend go home with the fat chick. It's textbook superdickery.
Earltastic Extra: When Kevin McHale retired after the 1992-1993 season, the Celtics felt they needed a big man to replace him. At least, I hope that's what they thought, because they chose Acie Earl in the first round of the 1993 Draft over more talented guards like Sam Cassell and Nick Van Exel. As bad a decision as that was -- and it was bad -- it still wasn't as terrible as when they chose Michael Smith with the 13th pick in the 1989 Draft. Smith was yet another in the long line of white shooters tagged as "The Next Larry Bird", but he barely played and was cut after just two seasons. Even worse, the Celtics passed up future All-Stars Tim Hardaway, Shawn Kemp, Vlade Divac, and Cliff Robinson to get him. They also passed up other not-quite-as-good-but-better-than-Smith players like B.J. Armstrong and Sherman Douglas (whom they would later trade for).
The collision aggravated the mysterious injury to Wally's gimpy left knee, which apparently is held together by nothing more than some Scotch Tape and those foam packing peanuts. So...what happened? Why does Wally suck so much all of a sudden? The answer should be obvious to Celticologists everywhere. Wally's wearing Acie Earl's old number.
Didn't anyone warn him? I know Red Auerbach isn't as involved with the team any more, and Danny Ainge is clearly engaged in a personal duel with Isiah Thomas and Kevin McHale for the title of "General Manger Most Likely To Inspire Mass Fan Suicides." But still, letting Wally don the Big Ace's old number is like standing by and wordlessly watching your drunk friend go home with the fat chick. It's textbook superdickery.
Earltastic Extra: When Kevin McHale retired after the 1992-1993 season, the Celtics felt they needed a big man to replace him. At least, I hope that's what they thought, because they chose Acie Earl in the first round of the 1993 Draft over more talented guards like Sam Cassell and Nick Van Exel. As bad a decision as that was -- and it was bad -- it still wasn't as terrible as when they chose Michael Smith with the 13th pick in the 1989 Draft. Smith was yet another in the long line of white shooters tagged as "The Next Larry Bird", but he barely played and was cut after just two seasons. Even worse, the Celtics passed up future All-Stars Tim Hardaway, Shawn Kemp, Vlade Divac, and Cliff Robinson to get him. They also passed up other not-quite-as-good-but-better-than-Smith players like B.J. Armstrong and Sherman Douglas (whom they would later trade for).
stat curse (stat kurs) 1. noun. The misfortune that occurs immediately after someone (usually a commentator) cites a positive statistical trend related to a given team or player. 2. verb. stat curse, stat cursed, stat cursing. Calling down evil or injury by citing a positive statistic related to a given team or player; the act of performing a stat curse.
Usage example: Marv Albert stat cursed Steve Nash last night by mentioning that Nash had hit his last six shots from the field. So of course Steve missed his next shot.
Word Trivia: How many times have you lived this experience? You're watching your favorite team play. Their star player steps up to the charity stripe for critical, game-saving free throws. The commentator casually mentions that he's 10-for-10 from the line in the game, and an 89 percent free throw shooter for the year. The player then bricks one or both of the 'throws. Yep, we've all been there. The stat curse is one of the most powerful enchantments the world has ever known. Anyone can invoke one: commentators, sideline reporters, fans, etc. However, you can't "trick" the stat curse. It only works if the invocation is a sincere recitation of an authentic statistic. For instance, you can't make Greg Ostertag miss a free throw by saying, "Boy, Greg sure is a good free throw shooter." The stat curse knows better than that, and the dark powers may allow Ostertag to go on a free throw shooting streak, just to mess with you.
Is Papa Shongo responsible for the stat curse? We may never know.
Usage example: Marv Albert stat cursed Steve Nash last night by mentioning that Nash had hit his last six shots from the field. So of course Steve missed his next shot.
Word Trivia: How many times have you lived this experience? You're watching your favorite team play. Their star player steps up to the charity stripe for critical, game-saving free throws. The commentator casually mentions that he's 10-for-10 from the line in the game, and an 89 percent free throw shooter for the year. The player then bricks one or both of the 'throws. Yep, we've all been there. The stat curse is one of the most powerful enchantments the world has ever known. Anyone can invoke one: commentators, sideline reporters, fans, etc. However, you can't "trick" the stat curse. It only works if the invocation is a sincere recitation of an authentic statistic. For instance, you can't make Greg Ostertag miss a free throw by saying, "Boy, Greg sure is a good free throw shooter." The stat curse knows better than that, and the dark powers may allow Ostertag to go on a free throw shooting streak, just to mess with you.
Have you ever attended a live NBA game? And if so, did you ever find yourself thinking "what this game really needs is a troupe of dancing fat guys"? Because that's what the Chicago Bulls think you were thinking. How else can you explain this:
What. The. Fuck.
The Matadors are an all-male performance ensemble who sing, dance, and lead crowd chants during timeouts and selected half-time shows. According to the Bulls official website, these guys aren't just entertainers. They have huge...senses of humor!! Ha ha!! (That is secret code to say they are fatties.)
Matador Mike O. says, "Blllarrrgghlll!!"
...sweet holy Jesus!! My eyes...they burn!! Okay. They've got the "bring Bulls fans to tears" part down. Seriously, why inflict these shambling ham monsters on fans who pay good money to see an underachieving team lose night after night? Maybe they're trying to scare people into the stadium gift shops, or maybe they just enjoy making children cry. I don't know. Whatever the reason, this is a textbook case of superdickery.
Corie's nickname is "Fatman." His stomach is "Robin." And no, I didn't make that up.
Corie is a security supervisor Joliet, Illinois. Accoding to his bio, he doesn't wear any underwear, probably because Hanes doesn't make a "beanbag" size. I figured since I had to suffer throught that terrifying mental image, then you should too. He claims that "grease is popping from the stove when someone is cooking" makes him feel sexy. I hate to tell him, but I think those popping sounds are probably just falling arteries.
Egyptian civilization didn't decline. He ate it.
The Pharaoh here is a financial analyst from Naperville, Illinois. He symbolizes the grace and beauty of an ancient culture that was eaten by a giant fat man. And before you Matador groupies get any funny ideas, forget it. He's already married. Actually, most of these pork beasts are married. The part of my brain that clings to sanity is glad we don't have to see their wives, but another part of me is sort of curious. You know, the part that likes to watch the police scoop what's left of someone into a bucket after a car accident.
The Matadors are an all-male performance ensemble who sing, dance, and lead crowd chants during timeouts and selected half-time shows. According to the Bulls official website, these guys aren't just entertainers. They have huge...senses of humor!! Ha ha!! (That is secret code to say they are fatties.)
"The application for this entertainment troupe called for men with BIG energy, BIG enthusiasm, BIG pride for their favorite NBA team and, well, BIG trousers. The goal was to put together a team of 12-15 men who could bring Bulls fans to tears through laughter in the 90-second time frame that makes up what we call in this league, a full time-out. The necessary qualifications for such a mission required little to no fitness regimen, dance experience or shame."Thank you for explaining what a "full time-out" is, puny fools. We just landed on Earth yesterday, and that was the last thing standing between us and the brutal conquest of your pitiful planet!! Anyway, I don't know how they can possibly say these proud men have no shame...
...sweet holy Jesus!! My eyes...they burn!! Okay. They've got the "bring Bulls fans to tears" part down. Seriously, why inflict these shambling ham monsters on fans who pay good money to see an underachieving team lose night after night? Maybe they're trying to scare people into the stadium gift shops, or maybe they just enjoy making children cry. I don't know. Whatever the reason, this is a textbook case of superdickery.
Corie is a security supervisor Joliet, Illinois. Accoding to his bio, he doesn't wear any underwear, probably because Hanes doesn't make a "beanbag" size. I figured since I had to suffer throught that terrifying mental image, then you should too. He claims that "grease is popping from the stove when someone is cooking" makes him feel sexy. I hate to tell him, but I think those popping sounds are probably just falling arteries.
The Pharaoh here is a financial analyst from Naperville, Illinois. He symbolizes the grace and beauty of an ancient culture that was eaten by a giant fat man. And before you Matador groupies get any funny ideas, forget it. He's already married. Actually, most of these pork beasts are married. The part of my brain that clings to sanity is glad we don't have to see their wives, but another part of me is sort of curious. You know, the part that likes to watch the police scoop what's left of someone into a bucket after a car accident.
dunk face (dungk fas) noun. The facial expression someone makes before, during, and/or after performing a slam dunk. This is usually either a look of berserk intensity or hilarious absurdity.
Usage example: Shaq looks really goofy when he makes a dunk face.
Word Trivia: The notion of a dunk face has been around ever since Darryl Dawkins first arrived from Lovetron to conquer our planet's backboards. However, Michael Jordan probably popularized the dunk face with his stupid stick-my-tongue-out thing. (Am I the only person who hoped he'd someday bite it off?) But now the dunk face isn't just reserved for the game's greatest dunkmeisters; now everybody -- and I mean everybody -- has a dunk face. Even Greg Ostertag [!!] has a dunk face, which I refuse to show here (mostly because I've already used that picture seven or eight times before). You can even go over to Sprite.com and create your own dunk face. Don't get your hopes up too high, though. Their system tends to freeze up a lot.
Just call him The Big Dorktastic.
Usage example: Shaq looks really goofy when he makes a dunk face.
Word Trivia: The notion of a dunk face has been around ever since Darryl Dawkins first arrived from Lovetron to conquer our planet's backboards. However, Michael Jordan probably popularized the dunk face with his stupid stick-my-tongue-out thing. (Am I the only person who hoped he'd someday bite it off?) But now the dunk face isn't just reserved for the game's greatest dunkmeisters; now everybody -- and I mean everybody -- has a dunk face. Even Greg Ostertag [!!] has a dunk face, which I refuse to show here (mostly because I've already used that picture seven or eight times before). You can even go over to Sprite.com and create your own dunk face. Don't get your hopes up too high, though. Their system tends to freeze up a lot.
Who says Vince McMahon isn't running the NBA? This was a throwback weekend in the truest sense of the word. Seriously, you couldn't have scripted it any better than it actually played out. What am I talking about, you ask? Okay, here we go.
In 1986, Larry Bird -- the tallest, whitest guy in the Three-point Shootout -- won that contest. A little later, Spud Webb -- the shortest player (at 5 feet 7 inches) in the league -- won the Slam Dunk Competition.
In 2006, Dirk Nowitzki -- the tallest, whitest guy in the Three-point Shootout (who is, in fact, often compared to Larry Bird) -- won that contest. This despite the fact that he never should have made it out of the first round (his final shot came after time expired...but nobody except the announcers, the audience, and the other participants noticed).
The tallest, whitest, and ugliest Three-point Champ since Larry Bird.
A little later, Nate Robinson -- the shortest player (at 5 feet 9 inches) in the league -- won the Slam Dunk Competition. And he did it by, get this, dunking over Spud Webb.
Yeah, it's impressive. I guess. But he is only 5'7".
I mean, come on. To have not one but both of these things happen on the same night would be one thing. But to have them happen on the 20th anniversary of the last time the same sort of thing took place? This can't be a coincidence. It just can't.
What made me absolutely sure that McMahon is running the show was David Stern's interview with the TNT cast. Did you see him? He looked like a animatronic puppet. A cheap one. I'll believe Triumph The Insult Comic Dog is a real Yugoslavian Mountain Hound before you convince me that...thing...was the real David Stern. I know Bill Simmons supposedly interviewed Stern this week, but that's just part of the conspiracy.
Which might make for a different, much scarier point. Maybe Vince McMahon has nothing to do with any of this. Maybe it's all part of a Terminator-style robot conquest of the planet. And if that's the case, we're in more trouble than I thought. So consider this fair warning. Don't get the wrong idea, though. I'm not trying to save the world or anything. If I gave a crap about saving the world, I'd be a parking lot attendant. Or a rodeo clown. No, I'm warning you now so that when robots are walking across the landscape of our laser-blasted skeletons, I can say "I told you so."
In 1986, Larry Bird -- the tallest, whitest guy in the Three-point Shootout -- won that contest. A little later, Spud Webb -- the shortest player (at 5 feet 7 inches) in the league -- won the Slam Dunk Competition.
In 2006, Dirk Nowitzki -- the tallest, whitest guy in the Three-point Shootout (who is, in fact, often compared to Larry Bird) -- won that contest. This despite the fact that he never should have made it out of the first round (his final shot came after time expired...but nobody except the announcers, the audience, and the other participants noticed).
A little later, Nate Robinson -- the shortest player (at 5 feet 9 inches) in the league -- won the Slam Dunk Competition. And he did it by, get this, dunking over Spud Webb.
I mean, come on. To have not one but both of these things happen on the same night would be one thing. But to have them happen on the 20th anniversary of the last time the same sort of thing took place? This can't be a coincidence. It just can't.
What made me absolutely sure that McMahon is running the show was David Stern's interview with the TNT cast. Did you see him? He looked like a animatronic puppet. A cheap one. I'll believe Triumph The Insult Comic Dog is a real Yugoslavian Mountain Hound before you convince me that...thing...was the real David Stern. I know Bill Simmons supposedly interviewed Stern this week, but that's just part of the conspiracy.
Which might make for a different, much scarier point. Maybe Vince McMahon has nothing to do with any of this. Maybe it's all part of a Terminator-style robot conquest of the planet. And if that's the case, we're in more trouble than I thought. So consider this fair warning. Don't get the wrong idea, though. I'm not trying to save the world or anything. If I gave a crap about saving the world, I'd be a parking lot attendant. Or a rodeo clown. No, I'm warning you now so that when robots are walking across the landscape of our laser-blasted skeletons, I can say "I told you so."
In honor of the 10 year anniversary of the original "50 Greatest Players" list, TNT's team of expert analysts and Doug Collins presented their amendment to the list in the form of the "TNT's Next 10" special.Tim Duncan: Can't argue with this one. 8-time NBA 1st team, 7 All-Star appearances, 2-time MVP, 3 rings, and the best poker face ever. Moving on...
Kobe Bryant: What bothered me is that Kobe, at age 27, is younger at the time of induction than anyone else on either list (edit: except Shaq). I know, I know, "But the Lakers won 3 titles because of Kobe". Just like the Bulls and Pistons won 5 titles because of Rodman. "But Kobe is one of the greatest scorers ever." If you can make that assertion based on his 28 ppg over the last 3 years, fine. But is this a list of "greatest players ever" or "greatest players right now"? In 5 years, when the Lakers return to the playoffs, or Kobe is on the all-time scoring list, or has an MVP award under his belt, (or at least hasn't went down the path of Penny Hardaway) let's talk.
Note: Charles Barkley was the lone voice of reason, saying Kobe hasn't accomplished enough at this point, and refused to put Kobe on his list over Joe Dumars and Dennis Johnson. Sir Charles rules.
Dominique Wilkins: For 'Nique, this is his official consolation prize, the toaster oven and dish set after losing the "Showcase Showdown" that is the last 20 years of his life. I honestly expected 'Nique to lose out to Derek Harper or Charles Oakley. He tends to find creative ways to get hosed.
Allen Iverson: I was on the fence with this one at first, but, to his credit, he's a former MVP and took that god-awful '01 Sixers team (old man Mutombo was their 2nd leading scorer. SECOND!) to the finals. And, after 9 seasons, he's in the top 5 all-time in career ppg and steals per game, so it's perfectly understandishable.
Bob McAdoo: Probably the greatest journeyman ever, I've only seen him play a few times with the Lakers, when he was well past his prime. But does it make sense to leave HOFers off this list? Just typing this makes this "Next 10" list seem somewhat pointless...
Kevin Garnett: The loneliest man in the NBA is a former MVP, 8-time All-Star, and is on pace to finish in the top 25 in career blocks and rebounds. And, by looking at the T'Wolves bench, he won't have anything to show for it anytime soon. But the stat dorks at 82games.com say he's the 15th most efficient player ever, and it's hard to argue with a stat dork.
Reggie Miller: I had a fairly intense internal dialog when Reggie made this list...
Connie Hawkins: Never seen him play, but if he's a HOFer and he's in NBA Street, he mustcanshoot.Crazed Pacers Fan: Reggie Miller...is a BASKETBALL GOD! The only
question now, is Reggie: A) a basketball god or B) the greatest player
EVER?
Sane Human Being: Reggie was one of the panelists for this
list, and he apparently voted for himself 10 times. Love him to death, and
at least three of my favorite playoff moments involve Reggie and the Knicks. He's hit seemingly 100s of clutch shots over the years, but
Reggie's not a superstar. Over the course of a season, in his prime he
wasn't any better than Mitch Richmond or Reggie Lewis.
Crazed Pacers Fan: Sorry, "Not a superstar" isn't one of the
options. I'll put you down for "basketball god". Next!
Jason Kidd: Kidd is already 9th all time in assists and 20th in steals, and is 4th in career triple doubles, behind Oscar Robinson by about 982. Kidd also has the distinction of having the 2nd worst career FG% since 1970!
Gary Payton: Was labeled a bust early in his career, GP is now 6th all-time in assists, 3rd in steals. GP was also a ground-laying forefather for all trash-talking and superdickery we enjoy in the league today. To his defense, I'd probably be an asshole too if I spent the best years of my career with Olden Polynice and Ervin Johnson.
The Honorable Mention list included Adrian Dantley, Olde Alex English, Dennis Rodman, Walt Bellamy (former Hawks are constantly screwed out of stuff), Bernard King and Steve Nash (Doug Collins had the balls to say Nash, the MVP, is a young player that hasn't accomplished enough in his career just yet. Makes sense, but then he votes in Kobe.)
In the end, like the housecat that lovingly leaves a half-eaten sparrow at your feet, TNT meant well with the "Next 10", but you're somewhat disgusted by it. It just seems wrong to leave an MVP (Nash) off the list but keep Kobe and Reggie. And there are more than a few HOFers that weren't even mentioned, but apparently aren't as good as Payton, Jason Kidd, etc. I'm sure everything would've been OK if they somehow got Rob Gordon involved...
The ever-prescient Bill Simmons had the following to say in his latest mailbag:
You took the words right out of our mouths, Bill. Literally.
"The bottom line: [the Pistons] could have won four or five straight titles with this current nucleus if Dumars didn't pass up three of the top-eight young assets in the league with that pick. As it stands, they're going to struggle to win two. That's why I believe that, other than Bowie-over-MJ, [picking Darko Milicic] was the most damaging draft-day decision of the last 20 years. And anyone who says otherwise is crazy."We couldn't agree with you more, Bill. Or maybe you couldn't agree with us more, since we already made the Darko/Bowie comparison a month and a half ago in our Human Victory Cigar post:
"Darko was (infamously) selected by the Pistons in the first round of the 2003 NBA Draft ahead of other All-Star caliber players such as Carmelo Anthony, Chris Bosh, and Dwayne Wade, making him the worst second overall draft pick since Sam Bowie."Don't worry, Bill. We aren't offended or anything. You can quote us whenever you want. But please, next time, just give a little credit were credit is due. We could use the free publicity.
Scot Pollard is...a weird guy. Yeah, I know. Just call me Captain Obvious. But seriously, every time I see that dude, he's sporting a new, even stranger look. In fact, here's a quick quiz. Which of these famous people has Scot, at one time or another, looked exactly like:
Oops. He did it again.
Believe it or not, this happened while Scot was a member of the Kansas University Jayhawks basketball team. Apparently, they open each season with a midnight event called Late Nite. In addition to a scrimmage, the event features Jayhawk players singing, dancing, and, most importantly, "acting the fool." And honestly, who better to act the fool than Scot Pollard.
As crazy as this may seem, there was actually a point to him slipping into a lacy red prom dress. See, he was proposing to his then-girlfriend, Mindy Camp. I can think of few things more terrifying than Scot Pollard in a dress, let alone Scot Pollard in a dress proposing marriage to me. Transvestism must do it for her, though, since she said "yes."
But who knows? Pollard may have been on to something, because he became the first basketball player in KU history to score 14 points, grab 7 rebounds, and block 4 shots while wearing bright red polish on all 10 fingernails. It may be time for the Pacers to hit the "plus-size" women's section at J.C. Penney.
Pooperiffic Extra: Scot's player page at NBA.com may be the saddest, most shameful thing I've ever seen. And remember: I followed Gheorghe Muresan's career, so I know sad and shameful. Here are a few of his "career highlights":
The correct answer, of course, is all of the above. What's that? You don't remember him dressing up like Britney Spears? Well, my friend, this is your lucky day. Or your unluckiest day, depending on your point of view. I give you: Scot Pollard in drag:A. Kojak.
B. Grizzly Adams.
C. Samurai Jack.
D. Jim "The Anvil" Neidhart.
E. Brittney Spears.
F. All of the above.
Believe it or not, this happened while Scot was a member of the Kansas University Jayhawks basketball team. Apparently, they open each season with a midnight event called Late Nite. In addition to a scrimmage, the event features Jayhawk players singing, dancing, and, most importantly, "acting the fool." And honestly, who better to act the fool than Scot Pollard.
As crazy as this may seem, there was actually a point to him slipping into a lacy red prom dress. See, he was proposing to his then-girlfriend, Mindy Camp. I can think of few things more terrifying than Scot Pollard in a dress, let alone Scot Pollard in a dress proposing marriage to me. Transvestism must do it for her, though, since she said "yes."
But who knows? Pollard may have been on to something, because he became the first basketball player in KU history to score 14 points, grab 7 rebounds, and block 4 shots while wearing bright red polish on all 10 fingernails. It may be time for the Pacers to hit the "plus-size" women's section at J.C. Penney.
Pooperiffic Extra: Scot's player page at NBA.com may be the saddest, most shameful thing I've ever seen. And remember: I followed Gheorghe Muresan's career, so I know sad and shameful. Here are a few of his "career highlights":
- Ranked 37th in Blocks in 2000-01.
- Ranked 35th in rebounding in 2001-02
- Made three playoff appearances, totaling 13 minutes, two points and four rebounds.
- Missed 40 games in 2002-03 with a lower back stress fracture, and 14 games due to a fractured right hand.
- In the final game of 2003-04, had a season-high eight points on four field goals.
To sum up, Scot's career highlights include breaking the top 40 in rebounding and blocks, playing a total of 13 minutes during the playoffs, missing half a season, and scoring 8 points. If I was Scot Pollard, I would beg the NBA to remove the career higlights section from my player page. And if that didn't work, I'd start killing people. Because I'd rather be remembered as "hard-assed mass murderer" than "lame, cross-dressing basketball player." But maybe that's just me.
Last year, former NBA player and current ESPN columnist Paul Shirley wrote an ongoing blog that was published on the Phoenix Suns' official website. After a game against the hapless Atlanta Hawks, Paul made the following observation:
The A-Town Dancers are the best thing about the Hawks, and Jeni is the best thing about the A-Town Dancers. Maybe it's her girl-next-door good looks, or maybe I just wish to the gods above that the girl next door looked like her. Whatever the reason, I'm in love with Jeni. And no amount of anti-depressants or restraining orders can change that.
But she's more than just a pretty face and a smoking hot body...she's got one of those brain things, too. While most of the other dancers spend their free time teaching spin classes or accepting small donations in their g-strings, Jeni is an architectural designer and a project coordinator. I'm not sure exactly what that means, but it sounds really smart.
Jeni studied how to build large erections while attending classes at the University of Florida. But like many of those nerdy types, Jeni can be a little bland. Her hobbies include a snore-arousing variety of mundane activities, such as "traveling, cooking, spending time with friends and family, and watching sports." Well duh, Jeni. You dance for a professional basketball team. We kind of figured you watched a lot of sports.
But come on. You can level with us. Anybody who looks and dresses like that has some spicy personal stories. We know those boots are made for...not walking. Please. Throw us a friggin' bone here. I mean, we can almost see your butt in that picture. Would it really hurt to describe what kind of underwear you have on? Okay. We'll stop now.
Just the color?
"Here's the deal: When, after 60 games, the team being announced has a winning percentage hovering around the same area as most pitchers' batting averages, it loses the right to a grand entrance. No more dance team, no more theme song, no more dimming the lights. The players just walk onto the court and play the game. That's it."While we will agree that Paul is something of a satirical genius, we must respectfully disagree with at least one component of his proposition. The Hawks deserve a dance team. Or, more accurately, the 10 or 12 fans that still attend Hawks home games deserve one. Because let's face it, watching a live Hawks game is the basketball equivalent of going to see The Constant Gardener with your girlfriend. Every moment is pure and unadulterated torture, to the extent that even the slightest hint of bare flesh might keep you from trying to scrape your eyes out with spork.
The A-Town Dancers are the best thing about the Hawks, and Jeni is the best thing about the A-Town Dancers. Maybe it's her girl-next-door good looks, or maybe I just wish to the gods above that the girl next door looked like her. Whatever the reason, I'm in love with Jeni. And no amount of anti-depressants or restraining orders can change that.But she's more than just a pretty face and a smoking hot body...she's got one of those brain things, too. While most of the other dancers spend their free time teaching spin classes or accepting small donations in their g-strings, Jeni is an architectural designer and a project coordinator. I'm not sure exactly what that means, but it sounds really smart.
Jeni studied how to build large erections while attending classes at the University of Florida. But like many of those nerdy types, Jeni can be a little bland. Her hobbies include a snore-arousing variety of mundane activities, such as "traveling, cooking, spending time with friends and family, and watching sports." Well duh, Jeni. You dance for a professional basketball team. We kind of figured you watched a lot of sports.
But come on. You can level with us. Anybody who looks and dresses like that has some spicy personal stories. We know those boots are made for...not walking. Please. Throw us a friggin' bone here. I mean, we can almost see your butt in that picture. Would it really hurt to describe what kind of underwear you have on? Okay. We'll stop now.
Just the color?
Microwave (mi'-kruh-wav') noun. Any player who has the ability to score a large number of points in a short period of time, usually immediately after coming off the bench.
Usage example: Tracy McGrady once scored 13 points in 35 seconds to beat the Spurs. He was a Microwave that game!
Word History: Let me set the stage for this one. It was May 5th, 1985. Game 4 of the Eastern Conference Semifinals. The world champion Boston Celtics versus the underdog Detroit Pistons in the steamy Joe Louis Arena. The Celtics were ahead 87-76 after three quarters and seemed destined to take a 3-1 series lead back to the Boston Garden for Game 5. That is, until Vinnie Johnson developed a terminal case of being on fire. Terminal for the Celts, anyway. In a miraculous off-the-bench scoring explosion, Johnson hit for 22 points (on 10 of 11 shooting) in the final period, leading the Pistons to a 102-99 win and tying the series. Danny Ainge, whose eyebrows were burned off during the brutal scorching, said, "If that guy in Chicago is 'The Refrigerator' (referring to former Chicago Bears defensive lineman William Perry), then Vinnie Johnson is 'The Microwave.' He sure heats up in a hurry." Unfortunately for the Pistons, Vinnie played more like The Styrofoam Container over the next two games. Not surprisingly, the Celtics closed out the series in six.
Vinnie Johnson: the original Microwave.
Usage example: Tracy McGrady once scored 13 points in 35 seconds to beat the Spurs. He was a Microwave that game!
Word History: Let me set the stage for this one. It was May 5th, 1985. Game 4 of the Eastern Conference Semifinals. The world champion Boston Celtics versus the underdog Detroit Pistons in the steamy Joe Louis Arena. The Celtics were ahead 87-76 after three quarters and seemed destined to take a 3-1 series lead back to the Boston Garden for Game 5. That is, until Vinnie Johnson developed a terminal case of being on fire. Terminal for the Celts, anyway. In a miraculous off-the-bench scoring explosion, Johnson hit for 22 points (on 10 of 11 shooting) in the final period, leading the Pistons to a 102-99 win and tying the series. Danny Ainge, whose eyebrows were burned off during the brutal scorching, said, "If that guy in Chicago is 'The Refrigerator' (referring to former Chicago Bears defensive lineman William Perry), then Vinnie Johnson is 'The Microwave.' He sure heats up in a hurry." Unfortunately for the Pistons, Vinnie played more like The Styrofoam Container over the next two games. Not surprisingly, the Celtics closed out the series in six.
At 20-33, the Toronto Raptors are 13 games under .500. They're 4th (out of five) in the Atlantic Division and 11th (out of 15) in the Eastern Conference. Yet with 29 games remaining, they haven't been mathematically eliminated from the playoffs. This is quite an accomplishment for the Raptors.
To what should we credit this amazing renaissance? The increasingly spectacular play of Chris Bosh, the first-time All-Star who's establishing himself as a legitimate 20/10 guy? Nope. It's that guy the Raptors traded to the Knicks...what's his name...oh yeah, Jalen Rose! Before his new team faced his old team, Rose had to give credit were credit was due: to himself.
Jalen Rose (pictured left): now making things better in New York.
To what should we credit this amazing renaissance? The increasingly spectacular play of Chris Bosh, the first-time All-Star who's establishing himself as a legitimate 20/10 guy? Nope. It's that guy the Raptors traded to the Knicks...what's his name...oh yeah, Jalen Rose! Before his new team faced his old team, Rose had to give credit were credit was due: to himself.
"I think they're hitting a good stretch of basketball and I think I take a little bit of credit because I played in a couple of those games."Yes, Jalen. It was all you, man. Without you, the Raptors would be, like, 17-36. And they will never forget you for that.
Karl Malone once said, "That Greg Ostertag, he ain't worth a damn." And even though we have a deep and profound sense of respect for The Mailman, we're going to have to return that comment to sender. After all, Greg makes our lives better each and every day...just by being Greg. So this is our tribute: in no particular order, ten reasons to love that great big, goofy guy.
1. Greg looks great in a tux.
2. He's The Man in a slap fight.
3. He keeps his pits trimmed and clean.
4. He's willing to be "The Other Guy" in the poster.
5. He never lets the referees intimidate him.
6. Greg always listens.
7. Greg Ostertag is not Kobe Bryant.
8. He's (usually) friendly with the media.
9. He's a rugged, boar-hunting man's man.
10. Greg always sucks. Even in a video game.
Most people will agree when I say that eBay so totally rocks. Do you need a new outfit for your Six Million Dollar Man doll? They've got you covered. Looking to make an addition to your shrunken head collection? You're in luck. Or are you just a pervert who wants sexy pictures of someone's pregnant secretary ex-wife? Not a problem. Anything you could ever want or need is probably being sold there, and you can usually get free shipping when you use the "Buy It Now" option. And let me tell you that nothing feels better than avoiding the shipping costs on your brand new fetus-shaped doughnut.
But be wary. Some things on eBay are entirely lame. For instance, someone is charging $49.99 (plus $15 S&H) for a pair of game-used shoes that were once on Toni Kukoc's sweaty feet.
If you hold them up to your ear, and listen very closely, you can still hear Toni sucking.
I guess since Kukoc won those championships with the Bulls, his shoes could be considered at least somewhat noteworthy. You can't say the same thing about the auction for Corey Maggette's shoes. After all, they never walked anywhere near Michael Jordan's shoes. In fact, considering these shoes were worn by a Los Angeles Clipper, we can't even be sure they were ever a part of a winning game.
We call it "Musk of Corey Maggette." Go ahead...take a whiff!
Like the Kukoc pair, these shoes were given to the seller by a ball boy after a game. Do NBA players know that the ball boys are stealing their shoes? I mean, guys like Lebron James and Tracy McGrady have big time shoe deals, and they probably go through 20 or 30 pairs a game. But players like Toni Kukoc and Corey Maggette...these are not marquee players. They might actually need their shoes. They could be living in them someday.
Another fun little item up for sale is a jersey issued to Kenny Anderson for the 1994 NBA All-Star Game. I couldn't believe that Kenny Anderson even made the All-Star Team, although I guess this auction is proof. But this line in the description section pretty much says it all: "This jersey was game-issued to Kenny Anderson (Nets) for the 1994 NBA All-Star game but never used." Now I get it. The jersey was never used...just like Kenny!
Kenny Anderson made the All-Star Team?!
And while it may be kind of respectable to buy someone's All-Star Game jersey, you would have to have had your sense of self-esteem surgically removed to buy a piece of the floor from an All-Star Game. But that hasn't stopped someone from trying to sell one.
I'm floored someone would try to sell this. Floored. Get it? I'm sorry.
There are are only ten of these things available (at a mere $49.99 per), so you'd better act fast. The description makes the following outrageous claim: "Look at any other All-Star game floor, from any year and I believe you won't find one with more detail on it." That's kind of like a circus promoter promising that you'll never see a fatter Fat Lady than the one at his circus. Maybe it's true, but you would have to be fantastically subnormal to go out and start making comparisons.
Last, and most definitely least, is an auction for a game-worn shoe signed by Greg Ostertag. As the description says:
I'd buy that for a dollar! Actually, no I wouldn't.
But be wary. Some things on eBay are entirely lame. For instance, someone is charging $49.99 (plus $15 S&H) for a pair of game-used shoes that were once on Toni Kukoc's sweaty feet.
I guess since Kukoc won those championships with the Bulls, his shoes could be considered at least somewhat noteworthy. You can't say the same thing about the auction for Corey Maggette's shoes. After all, they never walked anywhere near Michael Jordan's shoes. In fact, considering these shoes were worn by a Los Angeles Clipper, we can't even be sure they were ever a part of a winning game.
Like the Kukoc pair, these shoes were given to the seller by a ball boy after a game. Do NBA players know that the ball boys are stealing their shoes? I mean, guys like Lebron James and Tracy McGrady have big time shoe deals, and they probably go through 20 or 30 pairs a game. But players like Toni Kukoc and Corey Maggette...these are not marquee players. They might actually need their shoes. They could be living in them someday.
Another fun little item up for sale is a jersey issued to Kenny Anderson for the 1994 NBA All-Star Game. I couldn't believe that Kenny Anderson even made the All-Star Team, although I guess this auction is proof. But this line in the description section pretty much says it all: "This jersey was game-issued to Kenny Anderson (Nets) for the 1994 NBA All-Star game but never used." Now I get it. The jersey was never used...just like Kenny!
And while it may be kind of respectable to buy someone's All-Star Game jersey, you would have to have had your sense of self-esteem surgically removed to buy a piece of the floor from an All-Star Game. But that hasn't stopped someone from trying to sell one.
There are are only ten of these things available (at a mere $49.99 per), so you'd better act fast. The description makes the following outrageous claim: "Look at any other All-Star game floor, from any year and I believe you won't find one with more detail on it." That's kind of like a circus promoter promising that you'll never see a fatter Fat Lady than the one at his circus. Maybe it's true, but you would have to be fantastically subnormal to go out and start making comparisons.
Last, and most definitely least, is an auction for a game-worn shoe signed by Greg Ostertag. As the description says:
"I decided to sell this shoe so somebody else can enjoy it! This was signed by Greg Ostertag. The shoe is size 18 HUGE."That's right folks. The shoe is HUGE. Just like Greg's game. The seller has requested a starting bid of $24.95 and plans to charge $20 to ship it (which is probably a bargain, since the nasty thing is the approximate size and weight of a Sherman Tank). Strangely enough, there are currently zero bids. We can only wonder why. But take a close look at the posted picture of the shoe. It accurately reflects the total worth of a shoe decorated only by Greg Ostertag's autograph.
whirling dervish (wurl'-eeng dur'-vish) noun. A term used to describe a player immediately after he has performed a spinning, twirling, or otherwise gravity-defying move to score.
Usage example: Did you see that 360 degree slam dunk?! Lebron James was a whirling dervish!!
Word Trivia: If you watched professional basketball from the mid-1980s into the early 1990s, you probably heard guys like Dick Stockton and Brent Mussberger call someone a whirling dervish at least millionbajillion times. If that was before your time, go watch Michael Jordan's 63-point game (which the Bulls lost to Larry Bird and the Celtics) on ESPN Classic sometime. It was used a record 42 times that game. While it may sound like the name of a roller coaster or maybe a piece of farm equipment, the term "whirling dervish" is actually used to describe the Muslim equivalent of a monk or friar, some of which perform whirling dances and vigorous chanting as acts of ecstatic devotion. How it came to be used to describe anything related to basketball is a mystery modern science has yet to answer.
For the record, Greg Ostertag is not, nor will he ever be, a whirling dervish.
Usage example: Did you see that 360 degree slam dunk?! Lebron James was a whirling dervish!!
Word Trivia: If you watched professional basketball from the mid-1980s into the early 1990s, you probably heard guys like Dick Stockton and Brent Mussberger call someone a whirling dervish at least millionbajillion times. If that was before your time, go watch Michael Jordan's 63-point game (which the Bulls lost to Larry Bird and the Celtics) on ESPN Classic sometime. It was used a record 42 times that game. While it may sound like the name of a roller coaster or maybe a piece of farm equipment, the term "whirling dervish" is actually used to describe the Muslim equivalent of a monk or friar, some of which perform whirling dances and vigorous chanting as acts of ecstatic devotion. How it came to be used to describe anything related to basketball is a mystery modern science has yet to answer.
You can find a lot of goofy things on eBay, but this listing is one of the goofiest things I've seen. Today, anyway. It's a used Gatorade bottle, but not just any used Gatorade bottle. Michael Jordan once wrapped his sweaty lips around it.
I don't mean to call the seller a fraud or anything, but there's no conceivable way to prove whether or not Jordan ever sucked his sports juice out of this thing. Based on the posted picture...
...it looks just like any other generic Gatorade bottle. You can buy the same thing at just about any sporting goods store in the country. So I'm going to need some kind of verification that this is, in fact, a relic of the Jordan Era. I suggest sitting the bottle on the ground directly against a basketball. If the ball starts to quiver and then immediately rockets towad the nearest basketball goal, you can probably assume it belonged to Jordan.
"You are bidding on a Gatorade bottle that Michael Jordan drank from during a game from the 1998, 62-game winning season with the Chicago Bulls. The game was on February 11, 1998 versus the Charlotte Hornets, at the Charlotte Coliseum. The Bulls won the game by a score of 92-90. This is a great piece of NBA memorabilia that was not only in the hands of, but also used by Michael Jordan. The bottle was retrieved by one of the ball boys after the game and has been kept in the same condition, without being cleaned or washed. Shipping is $3. Payment is due within 7 days of the auction's closing. If you have any other questions please feel free to ask. Thank you."It's never been cleaned or washed?! Sweet!! Maybe some of Jordan's backwash is still in there. Maybe scrapings will yield some DNA samples, and we can create an army of Michael Jordan clones. Which we will then have to destroy, purely for scientific purposes. Or maybe drinking his 8-year-old spit would, like, make us better basketball players. I mean, wasn't there a movie where some kid became an All-Star by just wearing a pair of Jordan's old sneakers? This could be the Holy Grail of basketball artifacts. His used saliva could cure everything that's wrong wtih basketball. Or it could just be a fake.
I don't mean to call the seller a fraud or anything, but there's no conceivable way to prove whether or not Jordan ever sucked his sports juice out of this thing. Based on the posted picture...
...it looks just like any other generic Gatorade bottle. You can buy the same thing at just about any sporting goods store in the country. So I'm going to need some kind of verification that this is, in fact, a relic of the Jordan Era. I suggest sitting the bottle on the ground directly against a basketball. If the ball starts to quiver and then immediately rockets towad the nearest basketball goal, you can probably assume it belonged to Jordan.
cap killer (kap kil'-ur) noun. A player with an expensive, long-term contract who has little or no current value (and is therefore untradeable) but whose salary effectively prevents his team from signing any quality free agents.
Usage example: Anfernee Hardaway was once "The Next Michael Jordan," but now he's just a cap killer.
Word Trivia: With a salary of $19,125,000, Allan Houston is the second highest paid player in the NBA. You could make an arguement that Houston was never worth that much money, and you'd be right. But it's especially true now, considering he doesn't even play basketball anymore. Houston retired prior the the 2005-06 season, due to various injuries that had forced him to miss 94 games over the previous two seasons. Fortunately for Houston, and unfortunately for the Knicks, his money is guaranteed. Not only is he still getting paid, his salary still counts against the salary cap. Of course, the cap -- and the luxery tax imposed for surpassing it -- isn't much of a concern for the Knicks. Case in point: at $15,750,000, Anfernee Hardaway is the Knicks' second highest paid player and the 13th highest paid player in the league. That's a pretty hefty price tag for a guy who's averaging 2.5 points on 28.6 percent shooting and has only appeared in four games this season. Oh, and he only played 37 games last season too. Other notable (in the bad sense) Knicks include Stephon Marbury ($16,453,125), Jalen Rose ($15,694,250), Maurice Taylor ($9,100,000), and Shandon Anderson ($6,733,000). So it should be no surprise that the Knicks' league-leading $125,959,263 in player salaries is almost $30 million more than the next highest team. That's a lot of money for 14 wins. On a final note, Allan Houston is due for a pay raise in 2006-07; he'll be making $20,718,750.
Usage example: Anfernee Hardaway was once "The Next Michael Jordan," but now he's just a cap killer.
Word Trivia: With a salary of $19,125,000, Allan Houston is the second highest paid player in the NBA. You could make an arguement that Houston was never worth that much money, and you'd be right. But it's especially true now, considering he doesn't even play basketball anymore. Houston retired prior the the 2005-06 season, due to various injuries that had forced him to miss 94 games over the previous two seasons. Fortunately for Houston, and unfortunately for the Knicks, his money is guaranteed. Not only is he still getting paid, his salary still counts against the salary cap. Of course, the cap -- and the luxery tax imposed for surpassing it -- isn't much of a concern for the Knicks. Case in point: at $15,750,000, Anfernee Hardaway is the Knicks' second highest paid player and the 13th highest paid player in the league. That's a pretty hefty price tag for a guy who's averaging 2.5 points on 28.6 percent shooting and has only appeared in four games this season. Oh, and he only played 37 games last season too. Other notable (in the bad sense) Knicks include Stephon Marbury ($16,453,125), Jalen Rose ($15,694,250), Maurice Taylor ($9,100,000), and Shandon Anderson ($6,733,000). So it should be no surprise that the Knicks' league-leading $125,959,263 in player salaries is almost $30 million more than the next highest team. That's a lot of money for 14 wins. On a final note, Allan Houston is due for a pay raise in 2006-07; he'll be making $20,718,750.
The Pacers really know how to show their fans the love. But not with that "winning" thing that seems to be so popular around the NBA these days. No, instead they forced Peja Stojakovic and Scot Pollard to host a live chat. On Valentine's Day.
Peja and Scot will always love you. Always.
You may be asking yourself "What do Peja Stojakovic and Scot Pollard have to do with a greeting-card inspired romantic holiday?" This answer may surprise you: I have no freaking idea. But they did it, and the results are equal parts insane and hilarious. I've randomly posted some of their more "inspired" answers without the benefit of the associated question. Don't get the wrong idea or anything. The answers don't really make any more sense if you know the question. I'm just lazy.
You may be asking yourself "What do Peja Stojakovic and Scot Pollard have to do with a greeting-card inspired romantic holiday?" This answer may surprise you: I have no freaking idea. But they did it, and the results are equal parts insane and hilarious. I've randomly posted some of their more "inspired" answers without the benefit of the associated question. Don't get the wrong idea or anything. The answers don't really make any more sense if you know the question. I'm just lazy.
Scot Pollard: "Peja says he feels very good. He is especially happy because he is the best-looking player on the team. Personally, I'm happy to be reunited with the best-looking man in the NBA and I will continue to try and pull down as many rebounds as possible."There you have it. We now know that Serbians play "Donkey" (I just had to suppress an involuntary shudder) and Peja pays American taxes. Many thanks to the Pacers organization for answering these and two or three other questions I never had about two completely uninteresting men. Maybe next time they'll let us chat with Jeff Foster and Eddie Gill. That would rock.
Peja Stojakovic: "I have a guy, Neil, who is my hairdresser in Sacramento."
Scot Pollard: "If your name is Bart, does that mean your father's name is Homer. Any person named Bart in the 20th century...that is really some cross to bear. Nice job, there, Bart."
Peja Stojakovic: "I like small serbia in Chicago!"
Scot Pollard: "In Serbia they play Donkey."
Scot Pollard: "Peja is perfect and women just wants to please him so he never has any problems. My Valentine's Days are spent mostly just basking in Peja's glow."
Peja Stojakovic: "I also pay the American taxes!"
Mavs Man is the official team mascot of the Dallas Mavericks, but he does more than jump through flaming hoops to dunk a basketball. He also delivers personalized holiday greetings. And if you hadn't waited until the last damn minute to buy your girlfriend some wilted roses and a beat-up box of candy from Fannie Mae, you could have hired Mavs Man to deliver his own unique brand of Valentine's Day love. For only $225.
Valentine's Day has changed a lot from when I was a kid.
Wedgietastic Extra: The actual caption from the above picture reads "This student was the talk of the school after receiving his Valentine surprise a day early." I'm sure that's 100 percent true, too, assuming you define "the talk of the school" as being subject to ridicule, random beatings, and about 50 Atomic Wedgies. Thanks, Mavs Man!
"From Friday, February 10 through Tuesday, February 14 have MAVS MAN make a personal appearance at your Valentine's home, office or school between 9:00 AM and 6:00 PM. The appearance will last approximately 5-10 minutes and is accompanied by the Dallas Mavericks mascot delivering a gift basket to your Valentine!"A gift basket, you ask? Oh yes. The basket your sweetie won't be getting this year includes a wide variety of fabulous surprises, which I will now unsurprise for you:
- Dallas Mavericks T-Shirt
- Mascot Doll
- Dallas Mavericks Bumper Sticker
- Autographed Mascot Photo
- Candle
- Box of Candy
- Valentine's Day Balloon
- Valentine's Day Card
- Digital Photos Of The Appearance
- Plus much more!
Wedgietastic Extra: The actual caption from the above picture reads "This student was the talk of the school after receiving his Valentine surprise a day early." I'm sure that's 100 percent true, too, assuming you define "the talk of the school" as being subject to ridicule, random beatings, and about 50 Atomic Wedgies. Thanks, Mavs Man!
More e-greeting madness, this time from the Philidelphia 76ers. I don't know about you, but I'm feeling warm and fuzzy in places I've never felt warm and fuzzy before. This is the bestest Valentine's Day ever!!
Why? Because Kyle Korver is love.
Send a Portland Trailblazer e-greeting to that special someone on this special day. After all, nothing says "I'll love you forever" like a picture of Zach Randolph holding a pot of fake flowers.
How, uhm...romantic?
Dagger (dag'-uhr) noun. A shot that puts the final score of a basketball game out of reach and therefore symbolically represents the losing team's defeat.
Usage example: Reggie Miller's specialty was planting Daggers in the hearts of his opponents, especially the New York Knicks.
Word Trivia: Basketball players love to plant a Dagger, usually in the form of a three-point shot. Unfortunately, certain players (::cough::Antione Walker::cough::) take utterly outrageous shots during the final minutes of a game in the hope of landing a Dagger. In most cases, the shot doesn't have a prayer and the end result is almost as bad as a turnover. In fact, many of these poorly considered bombs turn into a fast break for the other team. Additionally, some players try to plant a Dagger when there are still several minutes left in the game. Consequently, they often suffer a defensive letdown after the faux Dagger and allow the other team to make a run.
Reggie plants another Dagger in the Knicks, right in front of Spike Lee.
Usage example: Reggie Miller's specialty was planting Daggers in the hearts of his opponents, especially the New York Knicks.
Word Trivia: Basketball players love to plant a Dagger, usually in the form of a three-point shot. Unfortunately, certain players (::cough::Antione Walker::cough::) take utterly outrageous shots during the final minutes of a game in the hope of landing a Dagger. In most cases, the shot doesn't have a prayer and the end result is almost as bad as a turnover. In fact, many of these poorly considered bombs turn into a fast break for the other team. Additionally, some players try to plant a Dagger when there are still several minutes left in the game. Consequently, they often suffer a defensive letdown after the faux Dagger and allow the other team to make a run.
When you go to a live NBA game, you can usually expect to see the following three things:
Note the unmistakable look of fear in her eyes...
This isn't a joke or a one-time stunt, either. This is a regular feature at Magic home games. I guess the Orlando management must have anticipated a "WTF?!" reaction from fans, because they provide the following explanation on the team's offical website:
If you have an intense desire to see these incredible jumping women but can't make it down to Orlando for a game, never fear! The Dunking Dancers are going to perform during the halftime ceremonies of the 2006 All-Star Game. So tune in and you too can see...this:
Okay. Fine. It's kind of hot.
1. The team mascot jumping off a trampoline to slam dunk.The Orlando Magic are doing things a little differently, though. While they still employ Stuff the Magic Dragon as their mascot, they no longer have him comically splatter against the backboard 50 times a game. Instead, they're making their dance team do it.
2. Sexy dancers jiggling in place to music from the mid-90s.
3. Basketball being played (except in Atlanta and Toronto).
This isn't a joke or a one-time stunt, either. This is a regular feature at Magic home games. I guess the Orlando management must have anticipated a "WTF?!" reaction from fans, because they provide the following explanation on the team's offical website:
"Dancers Dunking? That's right! Real Orlando Magic Dancers make up our Dunking Dancers performance team. Stuff has taught these girls a thing or two about how to dunk mascot-style, introducing amazing aerial dunks with style and grace that will amaze you! Talented, beautiful, athletic, these girls have it all and you can catch them at select Magic home games! All part of Magic Live!"There you have it, folks. The world's first Dunking Dancers performance team, courtesy of your Orlando Magic. I don't know about you, but I find it bitterly ironic that the Magic employ a group of tiny women who have more dynamic leaping ability than Grant Hill.
If you have an intense desire to see these incredible jumping women but can't make it down to Orlando for a game, never fear! The Dunking Dancers are going to perform during the halftime ceremonies of the 2006 All-Star Game. So tune in and you too can see...this:
Bill Walton could have been one of the greatest Centers in NBA history -- a guaranteed Hall of Famer -- but for the fact that his feet are made out of broken glass, egg shells, and tin foil. I'm not just being cute, either; that's the exact molecular composition of his achy breaky feet. Walton missed an incredible 351 games (almost four full seasons!!!) over the course of his 10-year career due to a variety of foot and ankle injuries. So even though Walton was the league MVP in 1977-78 and won two championships (with the Trailblazers in 1977 and the Celtics in 1986), most of his career is a big "What If."
Of course, Bill has tried his best to make up for these question marks by way of his bizarre career as a basketball analyst. Comments such as "John Stockton is one of the true marvels, not just of basketball, or in America, but in the history of Western Civilization" and "Tracy McGrady is doing things we've never seen from anybody -- from any planet" are just a couple examples of Bill's wit and wisdom. But my favorite Walton quote actually appeared in an article Big Bill wrote for NBA.com. To describe the effects of a pain-killing injection he received before a 1978 playoff game, Walton said:
That's crazy psychadelic, man.
Of course, Bill has tried his best to make up for these question marks by way of his bizarre career as a basketball analyst. Comments such as "John Stockton is one of the true marvels, not just of basketball, or in America, but in the history of Western Civilization" and "Tracy McGrady is doing things we've never seen from anybody -- from any planet" are just a couple examples of Bill's wit and wisdom. But my favorite Walton quote actually appeared in an article Big Bill wrote for NBA.com. To describe the effects of a pain-killing injection he received before a 1978 playoff game, Walton said:
"Rainbows, white puffy clouds, doves of peace flying across the sky. Mozart on the piano, contrary motion scales, arpeggios up and down the keyboard, Beethover -- crashing thunder -- it was all so beautiful, it was all so perfect."That's...great, Bill. So, uhm, I don't suppose you have any of that pain medication left do you?
Despite flying under radar of many media "experts" and most fans, the Dallas Mavericks are establishing themselves as a legitimate championship contender. Fresh off a franchise record 13-game winning streak, the Mavericks (39-11) currently have the third-best record in the NBA, trailing San Antonio and Detroit by 1 and 2 games respectively. Much of the team's success is due to the inspired play of their All-Star Power Forward Dirk Nowitzki, widely considered to be one of the prime candidates for this year's MVP award.
Nowitzki ranks 10th among the league's top scorers, and he currently leads Dallas in five statistical categories: scoring (25.3), rebounds (8.4), field goal percentage (47.3), freethrow percentage (88.8), and three-point field goal percentage (42.6). Basketbawful recently had the opportunity to sit down and talk with Nowitzki: the man, the myth, the legend.
Dirk enjoys the taste...of victory.
Nowitzki ranks 10th among the league's top scorers, and he currently leads Dallas in five statistical categories: scoring (25.3), rebounds (8.4), field goal percentage (47.3), freethrow percentage (88.8), and three-point field goal percentage (42.6). Basketbawful recently had the opportunity to sit down and talk with Nowitzki: the man, the myth, the legend.
Basketbawful: Dirk, you're playing the best basketball of your career. How are you doing it?
Dirk Nowitzki: Danke shon. Ich weiss nicht, aber Ich bin in eine unglaubliche Zonen. Alles is ganz gut, dann er ist jetzt um die Poopergershlicken.BB: The Mavericks acquired you from Milwaukee for Robert "Tractor" Traylor, straight up. I guess Dallas got the best of that deal, huh?
DN: Muwahahahahaha!! Herr Traylor gesuckt!! Der Bucks sind eine bunchen von dumbkopfs!!
BB: Dallas has lost a lot of great players over the last few years, guys like Steve Nash, Michael Finley, Antawn Jameson, and Antoine Walker. Yet somehow, the team has actually gotten better. Is this a case of addition by subtraction?
DN: Ich denke das deises ist in der Glockenspiel immer wie anderes schtinken. Wenn dieser Herren der Stadt gelufen, Ich fuhlte das Ich musse der Teamen geleaden. Und das ist was Ich habe gedunden.
BB: Of those players I mentioned, I know that Nash and Finley were very close to you. Do you miss playing with them?
DN: Oh, ja. Absoluterstag, kein fragen. Ich liebe meinen Teammatens, und denn zwei especiallesten. Steve Nash...Steve ist meinin freunden zum besten.
BB: What's your favorite memory of Steve Nash?
DN: Dieses ein Zeit, wir haben eine geblowoutest gebirtstag zufiel. Ein madchen, dis gehottie Frau, was in dem Lappe von Steve, und denn sie getooken die blaussen offnen, und sie sind Steve's bratwurst geblowen.
BB: That's hilarious! But where did you find rubber pants your size?
DN: Ich wiess nicht. I was totallichen getrunken.
BB: What was it like watching Kobe score 62 points in three quarters? Was that a turning point in the season for your team?
DN: Zu Herr Bryant ich sage: ficken sie bitte. Aber er gebt uns eine gewaken-uppen callen, und wir haben ass gekicken nach das Gamen. So, Ich glaube das er is eine nachtelatten uberpoopen gelachspitte.
BB: Your team is engaged in one of the closest division races in NBA history. How do you feel about your chances of passing the Spurs and winning the division?
DN: Der Spurs, wolle, es tut mir leid. Wir machen ein pacten zu dieses Teamen zum beaten. Es werda gehappenen. Ich dachte uber es spiel.
BB: Have you started thinking about what it would be like to play in the NBA Finals?
DN: Nein. Der Season is sehr lange, und wir haben alles zu gemachen. Ich bin der Ride enjoyen, und der is kein rumme fur under dem gekloggen luchen.
BB: Fair enough. Do you think this is the best Mavs team you've been a part of?
DN: Ja. Wir haben gerealig Playeren, und sie sind kommiten mir der Ball gegetten. Ich bin der Mann, und sie weiss es.
BB: Are you looking forward to appearing in another All-Star game?
DN: Ja, kein fragen. Es ist einen Honoren, und Ich planne alles ass zu kicken.
BB: Thanks for your time Dirk. Good luck, and I can't wait to see you in the Finals.
DN: Danke.
Black Hole (blak hol) noun. A player who, after receiving the basketball, rarely -- if ever -- passes it back to his teammates.
Usage example: Kobe Bryant is a Black Hole; his teammates know that once they pass him the ball, they're never going to see it again.
Word History: Kevin McHale was a low post genius, not to mention one of the best percentage shooters in NBA history. His career field goal percentage of 55.4 ranks as the 9th best of all time, and during the 1986-87 season he became the only player to ever shoot better than 60 percent from the field and 80 percent from the line (60.4 FGPct and 83.6 FTPct, respectively). What makes these accomplishments even more amazing is the fact that McHale often encountered aggressive, trapping defenses specifically designed to limit his touches. However, McHale only averaged 1.7 assists per game over his 13-year career, and his Celtics teammates sometimes wondered why McHale rarely passed out of the double and triple-teams he regularly faced. Danny Ainge finally began calling him "The Black Hole," referring to those regions of space that have a gravitational field so intense even light cannot escape. As Ainge once said, "When the ball goes in [to McHale], it doesn't come back out."
Do a Google image search for "Kevin McHale". You won't find a picture of him passing.
Usage example: Kobe Bryant is a Black Hole; his teammates know that once they pass him the ball, they're never going to see it again.
Word History: Kevin McHale was a low post genius, not to mention one of the best percentage shooters in NBA history. His career field goal percentage of 55.4 ranks as the 9th best of all time, and during the 1986-87 season he became the only player to ever shoot better than 60 percent from the field and 80 percent from the line (60.4 FGPct and 83.6 FTPct, respectively). What makes these accomplishments even more amazing is the fact that McHale often encountered aggressive, trapping defenses specifically designed to limit his touches. However, McHale only averaged 1.7 assists per game over his 13-year career, and his Celtics teammates sometimes wondered why McHale rarely passed out of the double and triple-teams he regularly faced. Danny Ainge finally began calling him "The Black Hole," referring to those regions of space that have a gravitational field so intense even light cannot escape. As Ainge once said, "When the ball goes in [to McHale], it doesn't come back out."
If Hugh Hefner has taught us anything, it's that a rich man can afford to surround himself with the world's most beautiful women...even if that man is an undead mummy or a floppy-haired computer nerd. So it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that Mark Cuban has provided his Dallas Mavericks with a smoking hot dance team.
The problem I ran into was this: how do I choose one beautiful woman out of an entire group of mega-hotties? It's like trying to decide which slice of pizza to eat. Except that with pizza you usually try to grab the biggest piece before your friends get their grubby hands on it. Typically speaking, the "get the largest" tactic doesn't work with cheerleaders, for reasons obvious to almost anyone who has genitals. So after much careful deliberation, I chose Marcella:
She's too sexy for that shirt. And her name.
Why did I choose Marcella? Partly because I'm kissing up to Mark Cuban and female Mavs fans. But more importantly, consider the name. "Marcella" sounds like what you'd hear somebody call their grandmother. Seriously, as far as female names go, Marcella is about as not-hot as you can get. When you're born to a name like that, the road to beauty is a long, uphill battle. Kind of like how any boy named Marvin will have to endure approximately 20,149 Atomic Wedgies before he finally proves his manhood. So Marcella, congratulations for turning the tables on fate and becoming an incredible babe despite having a name that hasn't been popular since 1903.
The problem I ran into was this: how do I choose one beautiful woman out of an entire group of mega-hotties? It's like trying to decide which slice of pizza to eat. Except that with pizza you usually try to grab the biggest piece before your friends get their grubby hands on it. Typically speaking, the "get the largest" tactic doesn't work with cheerleaders, for reasons obvious to almost anyone who has genitals. So after much careful deliberation, I chose Marcella:
Why did I choose Marcella? Partly because I'm kissing up to Mark Cuban and female Mavs fans. But more importantly, consider the name. "Marcella" sounds like what you'd hear somebody call their grandmother. Seriously, as far as female names go, Marcella is about as not-hot as you can get. When you're born to a name like that, the road to beauty is a long, uphill battle. Kind of like how any boy named Marvin will have to endure approximately 20,149 Atomic Wedgies before he finally proves his manhood. So Marcella, congratulations for turning the tables on fate and becoming an incredible babe despite having a name that hasn't been popular since 1903.
superdickery (soo'-pur-dik'-ur-ee) noun. A thoroughly offensive and completely despicable act, usually justified by fans and the media as a natural result of the ultra-competitive atheletic spirit.
Usage example: When Michael Jordan punched out Will Perdue just for setting a pick on him in practice, that was a textbook case of superdickery.
Word Trivia: The term "superdickery" was created by the author of the Superdickery.com website. The word is a reference to the often-cruel behavior that Superman displays on many Silver Age comic book covers, the result of a common promotional tactic in which the front cover featured a scene so baffling and apparently nonsensical that readers would be compelled to buy the comic just for the explanation. This, then, is a perfect term to describe the absurd conduct of certain basketball players -- from the open and obvious abuse of teammates to claims like someone needs at least 14 million dollars a year to feed their family.
I guess Michael Jordan isn't the only guy to ever punch out a teammate.
Usage example: When Michael Jordan punched out Will Perdue just for setting a pick on him in practice, that was a textbook case of superdickery.
Word Trivia: The term "superdickery" was created by the author of the Superdickery.com website. The word is a reference to the often-cruel behavior that Superman displays on many Silver Age comic book covers, the result of a common promotional tactic in which the front cover featured a scene so baffling and apparently nonsensical that readers would be compelled to buy the comic just for the explanation. This, then, is a perfect term to describe the absurd conduct of certain basketball players -- from the open and obvious abuse of teammates to claims like someone needs at least 14 million dollars a year to feed their family.
Opinions are like the elderly. Once they get stupid and helpless enough, they all get put in a special home. And that's what this post is -- a special home for helpless and stupid comments.
But before I get to making fun of people, I'd like to give out a special thanks to reader jENNy, who came very close to renewing our faith in the belief that intelligent life actually exists on the Internet. Responding to a random compliment we tossed at the Dallas Mavericks, she said:
The next comment is from reader Reasons For Hair Loss. In addition to providing a link to a website that describes how to fix our ugly, balding head, he said:
Making his idiotic return is Mr. Anonymous. People may remember how much he hated us for picking on Kobe for scoring 81. While we try to observe the appropriate level of benevolent sensitivity to the disabled, there's no way we could let his latest ravings pass without making fun of him. It's just our way.
Mr. Anonymous wasn't done displaying the catastrophic effects of his tragic brain damage. Showing all the common sense and restraint of a fat guy at "All-You-Can-Eat Rib Night" at Ponderosa, he posted a Basketbawful record four comments to the same post about Kobe's new t-shirt:
But before I get to making fun of people, I'd like to give out a special thanks to reader jENNy, who came very close to renewing our faith in the belief that intelligent life actually exists on the Internet. Responding to a random compliment we tossed at the Dallas Mavericks, she said:
"Amen to that. I love my Mavs."I second your hallelujah, jENNy. Although, since I was the one who started it, maybe I'm actually thirding it. I don't know. I'm not a numberographer, or mathmatist, or whatever. But we at Basketbawful think Dallas is woefully overlooked, so expect some extra Mavs coverage soon. By the way, I don't know whether you have a personal affiliation with the team, but let me know if you can slip Mark Cuban my phone number. I'd like him to own me too.
The next comment is from reader Reasons For Hair Loss. In addition to providing a link to a website that describes how to fix our ugly, balding head, he said:
"Cool Blog. Very informative.Keep up the good work."Thanks RFHL. We appreciate compliments. And donations. Remember: the more you give, the more we have. But I have a funny feeling this is just a cheap ploy to increase traffic to your site. I apologize if you're being sincere, but were not really trying to teach anything here. Other than the fact that Greg Ostertag is worthless and Kobe Kobe Bryant is the dark spawn of Satan. And everybody already knew that anyway.
Making his idiotic return is Mr. Anonymous. People may remember how much he hated us for picking on Kobe for scoring 81. While we try to observe the appropriate level of benevolent sensitivity to the disabled, there's no way we could let his latest ravings pass without making fun of him. It's just our way.
"Basketbawful, you are a good example of a jealous Bulls fan who cannot accept that Jordan is a faded glory.Kobe's 81 to Jordan's 69 is a living proof that 'the greatest to ever play the game' is only a hype."Can you read? If so, did you notice you were responding to a post about Mark Cuban's ownage of Phil Jackson? Nowhere in that post or on this site do we list any affiliation with Jordan or the Bulls. Instead of spending time reading blogs written by people who hate you, maybe you should hang out at an old folk's home. A lot of those people are so sick, they're about to die. They would really make you rock.
Mr. Anonymous wasn't done displaying the catastrophic effects of his tragic brain damage. Showing all the common sense and restraint of a fat guy at "All-You-Can-Eat Rib Night" at Ponderosa, he posted a Basketbawful record four comments to the same post about Kobe's new t-shirt:
"Only the most jealous Bulls fan will devote so much time taking shots at Kobe. It's already in the history books, so no matter what you write on your blogs, Kobe's 81 to Jordan's 69 is still the living proof that your idol is only a product of hype and not 'the greatest to ever play the game.' Kobe is your only target. Why don't you spare us your elaborate disdainful mockery of the entire NBA?"I would like to formally apologize if my giant, throbbing brain is showing, but you might have noticed that the name of our blog is Basketbawful. For those who didn't study Etymology in their "Big Rig and Auto Repair Home Correspondance Course," the word is a combination of the Latin roots "basketballessi" and "awfulleum," which can be loosely translated as "bad basketball." The whole point of this site is the disdainful mockery of the NBA. God...someday I dream of finishing a comment before the person who writes it makes a fool of themselves.
"Ha ha. Kobe 81 in only 42 minutes. Jordan 69 in a game with overtime. And they think he was the greatest to ever play???!!! Why? Because there are people who have so much time to write about their opinions and convince other minds, like the author of this blog."Jesus Christ. Not another one of these fucking messages. Don't you have Special Olympic events you need to train for?
"Basketbawful, instead of preserving the Jordan Bulls legacy, you are smearing it when you write bad things about Kobe, because that gives the readers a chance to fire back at your silliness."Okay. This is the dumbest thing I've ever read. Maybe I should include a "Handicapped?" yes and no check box on the comment form to know how far I should go in making fun of you people. I feel like such a personality Nazi when I just laugh these things.
"Kobe this, kobe that. Maybe we should also blame Kobe for Jordan's flop with the Washington Wizards during his last miserable season in the NBA, a well-deserved punctuation to his ultra-hyped career!"
Okay. I have a confession to make. When I was a teenager, I worked for my high school newspaper. One time, my editor asked me to interview an idiot savant. That's someone who, despite being mentally handicapped, has one extraordinary mental skill. This boy, whom we'll call Tony, was a "human calendar." You could name any date at any point in the future, and he could supposedly tell you what day of the week it would fall on. As it turns out, he could only do this for up to 10 years out. Once I started asking about dates beyond the 10-year range, he began to cry, and when I pressed him about it, his goddamn head exploded. That poor boy's death has weighed on my conscience for over a decade now.
The point is: ever since that day, I try not to draw attention to the fact that a retarded person is wrong about something, because you never know when someone's head is going to blow up. But in your case, I'll make an exception. So you should be aware of a dirty little secret: We hate Michael Jordan. Hate him. Always have, always will. His "flop" in Washington was one of our happiest moments as a basketball fans, right up there with the time Derek Fisher cried after the Lakers were eliminated from the playoffs. And do you know why we hate Mike? Because he was Kobe before Kobe was Kobe.
What we mean is this: Jordan and Kobe are the same type of player. They are both arrogant jerks who mask their selfish ball-hoggery and disregard for the team concept in the guise of "competitive drive." Jordan punched out both Will Perdue and Steve Kerr in practice. When he played for the Wizards, he drove Rip Hamilton out of town. Kobe was accused of rape. Whether he committed that crime or not, he still cheated on his wife. He also constantly talks down to and calls out his teammates, and he forced the Lakers to chase Shaq and Phil out of L.A. with torches and pitchforks and everything. These men are neither good human beings nor good teammates. Yes, they're two of the greatest scorers in NBA history. But I don't care how many points they score, they and their ilk are not good for the league.
Sure, there's a ratings spike every time somebody sets a scoring record. But it's just a spike, a one-time thing. When Kobe scored 81, people who don't care about basketball weren't magically converted into the fold. Either you enjoy basketball or you don't. Nobody is going to start watching basketball because a guy scored a bunch of points one time. Conversely, people will start watching when guys make their teams better. Look at what Larry Bird and Magic Johnson did for professional basketball. They made their teammates better. They made passing contagious. Suddenly other NBA players were emulating them; everybody was passing. Don't think for a minute that either of those guys couldn't have averaged 30-35 a game if they'd wanted to. But they did more than score. They made the game fun, and people responded.
Then Jordan came along. He changed the game. Now instead of carefully choreographed offenses, many teams simply isolate their best player and let him go one-on-one. If there's a double-team, kick it out for a three-point shot. That's 5o percent of the set offense for most teams. And moreso for clubs like the Lakers, because Kobe demands the ball so often. Watching Kobe go for 81 was painful to watch. Everyone was so busy being amazed by his ability to drive into a triple-team and score that no one bothered to ask the obvious question: "If three guys are guarding Kobe, shouldn't a few of the other Lakers be, I don't know, open?"
But Kobe came out and said he won't pass if he doesn't think his teammates "take advantage" of their opportunities (which usually equates to one or two shots a game). That's insane. Basically, he doesn't trust his teammates. Do you think talent, or the lack thereof, kept Bird from passing to guys like Greg Kite and Fred Roberts, or Magic from passing to Kurt Rambis and Mike Smrek? Bad as those players were, Bird and Magic trusted them, and in return those guys busted their asses for the team. That's how it works. Kobe, to his credit, does work hard for the Lakers, but he doesn't give to his teammates. And that, more than anything else, is the reason the other Lakers have been ineffective since Shaq left. Because they just aren't going to go all out when they feel ignored and underappreciated. That's human nature.
Phil Jackson knows this. He lived that "team-first" concept when he played for the Knicks, and he even sort of sold it to Jordan, enough so that they could win those titles. But Kobe doesn't get it, and Phil, for his part, appears to have given up on trying to teach Kobe. He's just riding the wave right now, and crashing on the rocks. Last season, the Lakers were 25-24 through 49 games. This season they are an identical 25-24. Despite the presence of the league's greatest scorer, who's playing the best basketball of his career. And despite the guidance of a man many people claim is the best coach ever. Shouldn't they be better than 25-24? By the numbers, they haven't improved by even a single game.
Look, Mr. Anonymous, we know you're in love with Kobe Bryant. That's what happens when you take Viagra right before watching a Lakers game. But until you come up with a better argument than "Kobe is the bestest because he scores lots of points," we're going to callously disregard anything and everything you say. We don't discourage intelligent debate. We invite it. But all you've done so far is whine and complain. And if we wanted to hear that, we'd just keep stealing little kids' lunch money. Speaking of which, is it lunchtime yet?
The NBA has pretty much turned into a giant marketing machine. They'll sell anything that isn't bolted down or on fire, and if it's on fire they'll probably just put it out and offer it on clearance. Experts estimate that by 2009 we won't actually have basketball games anymore. Players will be drafted straight out of grade school and immediately start making commercials and promoting league-sponsored jerseys, video games, and drug paraphernalia.
So it shouldn't be too surprising that the NBA is selling t-shirts to commemorate Kobe Bryant's 81-point game:
I know yellow is a Laker color, but it still reminds me of pee.
I wonder if this is going to start a trend? Will the NBA offer a new t-shirt every time a player sets some kind of record? Like the number of technical fouls Danny Fortson ends up with this season, or the number of hotdogs Jerome James eats during timeouts. I don't know. But if they don't, I'm still going to pay somebody to make me a custom shirt with Greg Ostertag's season high. That would be so cool.
Now that's a t-shirt I would buy.
So it shouldn't be too surprising that the NBA is selling t-shirts to commemorate Kobe Bryant's 81-point game:
I wonder if this is going to start a trend? Will the NBA offer a new t-shirt every time a player sets some kind of record? Like the number of technical fouls Danny Fortson ends up with this season, or the number of hotdogs Jerome James eats during timeouts. I don't know. But if they don't, I'm still going to pay somebody to make me a custom shirt with Greg Ostertag's season high. That would be so cool.
Have you ever wondered what Miami Heat center Shaquille O'Neal tastes like? Or maybe wanted to run your tongue down Tracy McGrady's back? Well, David Stern understands your needs and he's responded...by releasing officially sanctioned mint topical postage stamps featuring your favorite and not-so-favorite NBA players!
Just as I thought...Darko tastes like shit.
There's something strangely comforting in the fact that I can now paste any NBA player to a letter and send him wherever I want. And I don't mean to let the cat out of the bag or anything, but you'd better start addressing your Kobe Bryant fan letters to Abu Dhabi
Dwayne Wade is on the 75 cent stamp and therefore was mildly offended that Antoine Walker and Alonzo Mourning are on 90 cent stamps. But he was happy that at least Udonis Haslem got the cheapy treatment.
There's something strangely comforting in the fact that I can now paste any NBA player to a letter and send him wherever I want. And I don't mean to let the cat out of the bag or anything, but you'd better start addressing your Kobe Bryant fan letters to Abu Dhabi
Dwayne Wade is on the 75 cent stamp and therefore was mildly offended that Antoine Walker and Alonzo Mourning are on 90 cent stamps. But he was happy that at least Udonis Haslem got the cheapy treatment.
"Udonis is 35 cent so it's cool I'm worth more. I'm now internationally known and well accepted. As long as I'm over Udonis, I'm cool."I'm not sure whether the worth of the stamp is directly related to the worth of the player, so Wade may or may not have anything to be concerned about. But you'll notice that Darko is on a 10 cent stamp.
disconfidence (dis-kahn'-fuh-dens) noun. A lack of trust or faith, either in one's team or one's own skills and abilities as a basketball player.
Usage example: The Dallas Mavericks are on an incredible winning streak right now. They are a team completely lacking in disconfidence.
Word History: Coined on February 8, 2006 by Lebron James during a postgame interview after the Cavaliers narrowly defeated the Minnesota Timberwolves. Discussing how the Cavs overcame a 30-22 deficit after the first quarter, James said, "We didn't have disconfidence; we knew we could make a run."
This man has no disconfidence. And what's up with the lion?!
Usage example: The Dallas Mavericks are on an incredible winning streak right now. They are a team completely lacking in disconfidence.
Word History: Coined on February 8, 2006 by Lebron James during a postgame interview after the Cavaliers narrowly defeated the Minnesota Timberwolves. Discussing how the Cavs overcame a 30-22 deficit after the first quarter, James said, "We didn't have disconfidence; we knew we could make a run."
Mark Cuban owns Phil Jackson. No, seriously. He has officially purchased legal ownership of the Zen Master. At least that's what it says over at Cuban's blog. Some of the more inspired snippets from Mark's post include:
Mark and the Dallas crowd celebrate their complete and total ownage of Phil Jackson.
Of course, Phil wasn't going to let this go without making another "subtle" critique of the amazing power Cuban holds over the referees, the NBA, and the planets Eath, Mars, and Uranus.
"The coach formerly known as the Zen Master must now be considered my bucket boy."Mark, if by some amazing twist of fate you ever read this site, will you marry me? Because I now love you. Not the kind of love that fades with the seasons, mind you. It' s a forever love. Remember that.
"There wasn't an official competition that I won, thereby confirming my dominance of his psyche. Instead Phil has initiated an ongoing commentary about me that started in his previous stint with the Lakers and was reinstated this year with his return, that proves that I own the guy."
"For whatever reason, I have gotten to Phil so completely and thoroughly that every time he comes to Dallas he has to offer unsolicited comments about me to the media. I wonder if he dreams about me the nights he spends here in Dallas. Ok, I don't wonder. I'm curious about it."
"Then of course last night he again took the initiative to comment to the media about how I am such a presence in the NBA, that I turn the officials into 'nervous Nellies'. Implying that I can have more influence on the outcome of a game than his coaching skills. I wish. But if Phil wants to think so. I'm fine with that. That’s what happens when you own someone, they cant get you out of their head, and they don't often think, speak, or act rationally."
"I guess Phil was so overwhelmed that it caused him to take back to back delay of game penalties and the technical foul that comes with it, rather than send his team out to the court at the conclusion of a timeout in the 4th quarter."
Of course, Phil wasn't going to let this go without making another "subtle" critique of the amazing power Cuban holds over the referees, the NBA, and the planets Eath, Mars, and Uranus.
"I think we all know what's happened around the league since Mark has picked up that franchise. He's done a great job of bringing attendance to the club, he's hired former NBA referees to monitor the game tapes. He sends out a weekly report on referees. There are some things that Mark has done to turn it a little bit in his favor. And that's good. He's trying to do everything he can to sally up points."Those are some pretty sour grapes, Phil. How can you stand to eat those things? Yeeeach. And anyway, it's not like you haven't spent years plying league officials with your snarky little complaints. Here's an idea, and it may be a stretch, but wouldn't your time be better spent coaching your team, and maybe even telling Kobe to pass the ball? I'm just sayin'.
There's no denying the fact that we all have problems. Of course, some people's problems are worse than others. For instance, Kobe Bryant only has to worry about double-teaming defenses and the large piles of hundred-dollar bills that are blocking the doorways in his giant mansion. Greg Ostertag, on the other hand, has to work on memorizing difficult lines like "Would you like fries with that" and "You have to pre-pay at pumps 9 through 13" to prepare for his retirement from basketball.
The world is full of hardship. And, quite honestly, who better to save us from it than Kevin Federline? Regular visitors to this site might assume I'm just being sarcastic, but think about it. This white-trash loser started out as a back-up dancer for human suppository Justin Timberlake, yet he convinced the once-mega-hottie Britney Spears to marry him...while another woman was pregnent with his second child!! He then used wifey's money to jumpstart his rap career, and, according to the pre-nuptial agreement, he gets half of Britney's net worth should they ever split. So you can say whatever you want about the man, but he's going to have the last laugh. Probably from a bed full of porn stars.
Today, I've decided to tap into Kevin's genius to solve some of the NBA's greatest mysteries.
1. Can the Lakers win with Kobe shooting so much?
2. Is there any way Larry Brown can turn the Knicks' season around?
3. How would you keep an out-of-control player like Ron Artest in line? The dude is straight-up crazy.
4. Shaq is F-A-T fat!! How can I help him lose weight in time for the playoffs?
5. Nothing ever goes right for the Pacers! As a fan, all their bad luck is killing me. What can I do?!
What have we learned today? Absolutely nothing. Maybe Kevin was just joking around, or maybe he's an idiot savant and we'll never really understand his genius. Or maybe, just maybe, the answer was inside of us all along.
The world is full of hardship. And, quite honestly, who better to save us from it than Kevin Federline? Regular visitors to this site might assume I'm just being sarcastic, but think about it. This white-trash loser started out as a back-up dancer for human suppository Justin Timberlake, yet he convinced the once-mega-hottie Britney Spears to marry him...while another woman was pregnent with his second child!! He then used wifey's money to jumpstart his rap career, and, according to the pre-nuptial agreement, he gets half of Britney's net worth should they ever split. So you can say whatever you want about the man, but he's going to have the last laugh. Probably from a bed full of porn stars.
Today, I've decided to tap into Kevin's genius to solve some of the NBA's greatest mysteries.
1. Can the Lakers win with Kobe shooting so much?
2. Is there any way Larry Brown can turn the Knicks' season around?
3. How would you keep an out-of-control player like Ron Artest in line? The dude is straight-up crazy.
4. Shaq is F-A-T fat!! How can I help him lose weight in time for the playoffs?
5. Nothing ever goes right for the Pacers! As a fan, all their bad luck is killing me. What can I do?!
What have we learned today? Absolutely nothing. Maybe Kevin was just joking around, or maybe he's an idiot savant and we'll never really understand his genius. Or maybe, just maybe, the answer was inside of us all along.
"Almost" Team (ol'-most teem) noun. Any team that has the talent and opportunity to win a championship but repeatedly comes up just short of reaching that goal.
Usage example: The Utah Jazz were the "Almost" Team of the late 1990s.
Word History: The murky waters of NBA history are teeming with a shameful assortment of teams that just couldn't get it done. The Los Angeles Lakers were the the "Almost" Team of the 1960s, losing to the Celtics in the Finals six times (1962, 1963, 1965, 1966, 1968, and 1969). But at least that team would eventually be rewarded with nine NBA titles (to go with the five titles won by the Minneapolis Lakers during the 1950s). Other teams haven't been so lucky. The Milwaukee Bucks had a string of seven 50-win seasons during the 1980s, but their path to the Finals was always blocked by teams like the Celtics, Sixers, and Pistons. The Atlanta Hawks, led by Dominque Wilkins, were likewise stymied by the Celtics and Pistons. The Portland Trailblazers made the Finals in 1990 and 1992, only to lose first to the Pistons and then the Bulls. Portland even won 63 games in 1990-91, the best record in the league that season, but lost to the Lakers in the Western Conference Finals. The Pacers have made six trips to the Eastern Conference Finals (losing in Game 7 three times), but only one trip to the NBA Finals, where they kick-started a Lakers Three-peat. And, of course, there's the Jazz. During the Stockton and Malone Era, the Jazz won at least 50 games eleven times, and they won 60 or more games three times. The made the Finals in 1997 and 1998, infamously losing to the Bulls both times. Even worse, the second Finals loss, during which they had home-court advantage, is immortalized in 99.99997 percent of all NBA highlight videos in the form of Michael Jordan hitting "The Push-off Shot" over Bryon Russel.
"We came so close, Karl. So damn close..."
Usage example: The Utah Jazz were the "Almost" Team of the late 1990s.
Word History: The murky waters of NBA history are teeming with a shameful assortment of teams that just couldn't get it done. The Los Angeles Lakers were the the "Almost" Team of the 1960s, losing to the Celtics in the Finals six times (1962, 1963, 1965, 1966, 1968, and 1969). But at least that team would eventually be rewarded with nine NBA titles (to go with the five titles won by the Minneapolis Lakers during the 1950s). Other teams haven't been so lucky. The Milwaukee Bucks had a string of seven 50-win seasons during the 1980s, but their path to the Finals was always blocked by teams like the Celtics, Sixers, and Pistons. The Atlanta Hawks, led by Dominque Wilkins, were likewise stymied by the Celtics and Pistons. The Portland Trailblazers made the Finals in 1990 and 1992, only to lose first to the Pistons and then the Bulls. Portland even won 63 games in 1990-91, the best record in the league that season, but lost to the Lakers in the Western Conference Finals. The Pacers have made six trips to the Eastern Conference Finals (losing in Game 7 three times), but only one trip to the NBA Finals, where they kick-started a Lakers Three-peat. And, of course, there's the Jazz. During the Stockton and Malone Era, the Jazz won at least 50 games eleven times, and they won 60 or more games three times. The made the Finals in 1997 and 1998, infamously losing to the Bulls both times. Even worse, the second Finals loss, during which they had home-court advantage, is immortalized in 99.99997 percent of all NBA highlight videos in the form of Michael Jordan hitting "The Push-off Shot" over Bryon Russel.
Did anybody know that R&B artist Usher was a minority owner of the Cleveland Cavaliers? It was news to me too. But yeah, apparently he loves Cleveland, and he really loves the Cavs. In fact, he was so juiced about buying into the team, he said, "I look for Cleveland to be my home away from home."
But that...was last March. According to the latest reports, Usher no longer attends Cavalier home games and his music is no longer played at Quicken Loans Arena (am I the only person who still calls it Gund Arena?). According to his publicist, Usher still owns part of the team and is "very active in building the brand" (whatever that means). The Cavaliers organization, for their part, have yet to comment. The whole situation was bizarrely summed up by Paul Swangard, director of the University of Oregon's Warsaw Sports Management Center:
Hey! I think I found Usher! It looks like he's making gay porn these days.
Porntastic Extra: Everybody can relax. We've found Usher. Apparently he's just been sitting around the house, doing crunches and soaking himself in melted butter. Okay. Just what the hell is up with this picture? I understand a man can only rap if he's wearing low-rise jeans, but why the picture of him shirtless, eyes closed, and breathing in the ecstasy of his own musk? Yeah, his abs look great, but even if he had them tattooed with a picture of himself killing a grizzly bear, this is soft-core gay porn. I mean, it's possible this is just a standard publicity shot. He might be thinking, "What kind of a world are we living in? I should be able to strip down and recline, all buff and covered in cooking spray, without people thinking I'm gay." But when you're a famous rapper who owns part of a men's basketball team, you've should probably be a little more conscious of your image. Unless you just really hope to secude Lebron into making out with you.
But that...was last March. According to the latest reports, Usher no longer attends Cavalier home games and his music is no longer played at Quicken Loans Arena (am I the only person who still calls it Gund Arena?). According to his publicist, Usher still owns part of the team and is "very active in building the brand" (whatever that means). The Cavaliers organization, for their part, have yet to comment. The whole situation was bizarrely summed up by Paul Swangard, director of the University of Oregon's Warsaw Sports Management Center:
"You can sell the sizzle, but if there's no steak then people are going to figure it out after awhile. If it doesn't happen, then it's totally unauthentic and you run the risk of people saying, 'Can I believe them with anything?'"Sizzle. Steak. Figuring out that famous people are full of crap. I guess Paul must have picked up the Complete Dumbass's Guide To Duh on his last trip to Borders. Oh well. The real victim in all this is the Cavaliers basketball team. I don't know how they're going to get by without Usher sitting in the front row at their games. I guess they're just going to have to rely on that Lebron James guy if they want to win anything.
Porntastic Extra: Everybody can relax. We've found Usher. Apparently he's just been sitting around the house, doing crunches and soaking himself in melted butter. Okay. Just what the hell is up with this picture? I understand a man can only rap if he's wearing low-rise jeans, but why the picture of him shirtless, eyes closed, and breathing in the ecstasy of his own musk? Yeah, his abs look great, but even if he had them tattooed with a picture of himself killing a grizzly bear, this is soft-core gay porn. I mean, it's possible this is just a standard publicity shot. He might be thinking, "What kind of a world are we living in? I should be able to strip down and recline, all buff and covered in cooking spray, without people thinking I'm gay." But when you're a famous rapper who owns part of a men's basketball team, you've should probably be a little more conscious of your image. Unless you just really hope to secude Lebron into making out with you.
The New York Daily News recently published a story about Isiah Thomas titled "Menace Behind The Smile." No, it isn't about the time he teamed up with Dr. Doom to steal the world's supply of disco balls. It's basically a heartfelt retrospective on how Isiah is a savage monster who single-handedly destroyed the Continental Basketball Association.
People may have forgotten this, but Isiah bought the CBA -- not a team, mind you, but the whole damn league -- and promised to turn it into "the Microsoft of basketball." Instead, he lost between $5 and $7 million, ran the 55-year-old business into bankruptcy, and then jumped ship to coach the Indiana Pacers. In between the "buying" and "running the hell away" parts, he managed the league like he was Adolph Hitler and the CBA team owners and employees were little Anne Franks. At least Der Fuhrer shot himself in the head eventually, whereas Isiah continues to inflict his own special brand of stupidity and incompetence on the sport of basketball. I just thank the Basketball Gods that he's with the Knicks now.
Anyway...you can read the article for the full skinny, but here are some of the more poignant quotes:
People may have forgotten this, but Isiah bought the CBA -- not a team, mind you, but the whole damn league -- and promised to turn it into "the Microsoft of basketball." Instead, he lost between $5 and $7 million, ran the 55-year-old business into bankruptcy, and then jumped ship to coach the Indiana Pacers. In between the "buying" and "running the hell away" parts, he managed the league like he was Adolph Hitler and the CBA team owners and employees were little Anne Franks. At least Der Fuhrer shot himself in the head eventually, whereas Isiah continues to inflict his own special brand of stupidity and incompetence on the sport of basketball. I just thank the Basketball Gods that he's with the Knicks now.Anyway...you can read the article for the full skinny, but here are some of the more poignant quotes:
"He ruled with intimidation. It was just like, 'If I swear enough or if I act like I'm tough enough you're going to back down."So what can we take from this? That Isiah is ornery, first of all. He also likes to use the F-word. He's rude to people. And he's a bad businessman. Hunh. Please excuse my giant pulsating brain, but I think most of us had already worked that out for ourselves. But still, I never get tired of hearing (well, reading) people rag on Isiah, so thank you New York Daily News. You made my day.
"Just the rudest person that I have ever run into in my entire life. He's a very poor business person. He doesn't listen to people. He's always right. He makes poor decisions, and I'm talking about the CBA in particular."
"Who he listens to are people who tell him what he wants to hear. The fact that he's still in basketball and running the Knicks just astounds me."
"I shook my head when I saw (that the Knicks had hired Thomas as their president). I thought, 'Geez. Maybe he can coach. We certainly know he can play - he's got a good basketball mind. But why would somebody not check into his business references?'"
"We went from the very well-spoken Isiah to the Chicago Isiah that kind of got the lingo going and every other word was a swear word, and 'This is how it's going to be.' I thought, 'Oh my god...' I don't think we have as many f-words and swear words here."
"A few of us said, 'Hey, this isn't going to work.' To which his answer was, 'It is going to work and if you don't like it, quit. Or 'I'll fire you.'"
"He tends to do business just like he played basketball. He's very clever and cunning and friendly until the rubber hits the road. And then he can really bow his back up and get pretty ornery and hard to get along with when he doesn't get his way. It would go from us being best friends to him calling me a little bit ethnic-related names."
If you've been missing Chris Andersen -- the floppy hair, his goofy smile, the 5 ppg average -- then you will be truly moved, perhaps to tears, by this tribute video. Tastefully set to the Benny Hill theme music, this video lovingly recreates Andersen's defining moment: his participation in the 2005 NBA Slam Dunk competition. It's time for the Birdman...to fly.
Soar on the wings of your dreams, Birdman!
I'm not trying to say that Chris set back race relations in the NBA by, like, 20 years or anything. But this year's Slam Dunk contest participants were announced and you'll notice there isn't a white man among them. Don't you just get the feeling that David Stern's "Off-season To Do" list read something like this:
Famous Birdmen in History: This may surprise you, but Chris Andersen isn't the most celebrated birdman in history. He ranks somewhere between Harvey Birdman, attorney at law, and professional wrestling's "The Birdman" Koko B. Ware. Speaking of Koko, he once performed a song titled Piledriver. In case you're not aware, a piledriver is when you turn the opposing wrestler upside down and drive him or her skull-first into the ground. This song, then, is a powerful metaphor for how love can sometimes be like that. Sample lyrics include: "Sometimes love! It sounds like a fight! It sounds like an argument! It sounds just like a PILEDRIVER!" This song really does illustrate the lighter side of domestic abuse. Unfortunately, I don't think the authorities are going to buy it. "No, no officer. There's no trouble here. Sometimes my love just sounds like I'm driving her head into the floorboards!"
I'm not trying to say that Chris set back race relations in the NBA by, like, 20 years or anything. But this year's Slam Dunk contest participants were announced and you'll notice there isn't a white man among them. Don't you just get the feeling that David Stern's "Off-season To Do" list read something like this:
- Continue to pimp the WNBA like a cheap whore.
- Implement a player dress code.
- Swim in my giant money bin at least twice a day.
- Keep white men out of the dunk contest.
Famous Birdmen in History: This may surprise you, but Chris Andersen isn't the most celebrated birdman in history. He ranks somewhere between Harvey Birdman, attorney at law, and professional wrestling's "The Birdman" Koko B. Ware. Speaking of Koko, he once performed a song titled Piledriver. In case you're not aware, a piledriver is when you turn the opposing wrestler upside down and drive him or her skull-first into the ground. This song, then, is a powerful metaphor for how love can sometimes be like that. Sample lyrics include: "Sometimes love! It sounds like a fight! It sounds like an argument! It sounds just like a PILEDRIVER!" This song really does illustrate the lighter side of domestic abuse. Unfortunately, I don't think the authorities are going to buy it. "No, no officer. There's no trouble here. Sometimes my love just sounds like I'm driving her head into the floorboards!"
make-up call (mak'-up kahl) noun. The act of compensating for a bad call against one team by making an even worse call against the other team, usually in an immediate and obvious manner.
Usage example: The referee called a travelling violation on Tim Duncan right after Allen Iverson got called for palming the ball. That was such a make-up call.
Word Usage: If you watch any basketball game, especially one in which there are superstars involved, you'll see at least two or three make-up calls. The make-up call is almost always an equal and opposite exchange in relation to the original call. In other words, the two calls must offset each other without giving an advantage to either team. If the original call is, say, travelling, the make-up call will only result in a change of possession. If the original call awarded freethrows to one team, the make-up call should yield offsetting freethrows for the other team. In many cases, the same violation is called in back-to-back possessions (i.e., one team gets called for travelling, thereby turning the ball over, and then the other team gets called for travelling on the very next possession). Make-up calls usually occur because referees seldom, if ever, reverse a call, no matter how obviously bad it is. They also are used to appease a superstar who is upset that a particular call went against him or his team.
Usage example: The referee called a travelling violation on Tim Duncan right after Allen Iverson got called for palming the ball. That was such a make-up call.
Word Usage: If you watch any basketball game, especially one in which there are superstars involved, you'll see at least two or three make-up calls. The make-up call is almost always an equal and opposite exchange in relation to the original call. In other words, the two calls must offset each other without giving an advantage to either team. If the original call is, say, travelling, the make-up call will only result in a change of possession. If the original call awarded freethrows to one team, the make-up call should yield offsetting freethrows for the other team. In many cases, the same violation is called in back-to-back possessions (i.e., one team gets called for travelling, thereby turning the ball over, and then the other team gets called for travelling on the very next possession). Make-up calls usually occur because referees seldom, if ever, reverse a call, no matter how obviously bad it is. They also are used to appease a superstar who is upset that a particular call went against him or his team.
There are a lot of depressing things in the world. Nuclear war. Dead puppy dogs. Old people on fixed incomes who have to eat pet food just to survive. And of course the people who draw Allen Iverson's nipples. But the saddest thing I've ever seen in my life is, without question, the Scalabrine.com website.
Brian has these inspirational words for every site visitor.
A lot of NBA players have their own official websites. Guys like Kobe Bryant, Lebron James, Tracy McGrady...guys who have game. Giving someone like Brian Scalabrine a personal website is like letting the the fat kid at your high school be Homecoming King. Sure, it's a nice thing to do, and maybe even inspiring. But you're also going to create unrealistic expectations. People like the fat kid are only good for certain things, like doing the Truffle Shuffle or winning a hot dog eating contest. Likewise, the only use for Brian Scalabrine is keeping the bench warm for Paul Pierce and handing out Gatorade during timeouts. That's pretty much the sum total of his contributions to the team. If you give a guy like that a website, people are going to start expecting him to play basketball, and then the entire fantasy is going to go up in smoke.
But since you've come this far, I guess I should review the site. It features a photo gallery, the Celtics' game schedule, and Brian's player profile. (Did you know he had a career-high 16 points in 30 minutes back in 2002? Yeah, surprised me too.) But the most outstanding aspect of this site -- and by "outstanding" I mean equal parts "ridiculous" and "amusing" -- is the open invitation to the Scalabrine Hoop Camp. This supposedly is some Neighborhood of Make-Believe were Brian and his "expert staff" (none of which are named) teach you about sill development, teamwork, and fun. Or as the website says: The Dream Starts Now.
I suppose that, to a certain extent, anybody who makes it into the NBA has to be a pretty good basketball player. I'm sure if Brian showed up at my pickup league, he'd totally clean house. Well, I'm pretty sure, anyway. But I still don't think I'd pay money to have him teach me the fundamentals of the game, even if that teaching does come with a free t-shirt. I've seen Brian play. He can't shoot, pass, or rebound. Watching him dribble the ball is like watching someone try to play Scrabble during an epileptic seizure. I guess he's kind of tall and everything, but the last time I checked you can't teach height. Although even if you could, I'm sure he'd find a way to screw that up too.
So. Freaking. Cool.
A lot of NBA players have their own official websites. Guys like Kobe Bryant, Lebron James, Tracy McGrady...guys who have game. Giving someone like Brian Scalabrine a personal website is like letting the the fat kid at your high school be Homecoming King. Sure, it's a nice thing to do, and maybe even inspiring. But you're also going to create unrealistic expectations. People like the fat kid are only good for certain things, like doing the Truffle Shuffle or winning a hot dog eating contest. Likewise, the only use for Brian Scalabrine is keeping the bench warm for Paul Pierce and handing out Gatorade during timeouts. That's pretty much the sum total of his contributions to the team. If you give a guy like that a website, people are going to start expecting him to play basketball, and then the entire fantasy is going to go up in smoke.
But since you've come this far, I guess I should review the site. It features a photo gallery, the Celtics' game schedule, and Brian's player profile. (Did you know he had a career-high 16 points in 30 minutes back in 2002? Yeah, surprised me too.) But the most outstanding aspect of this site -- and by "outstanding" I mean equal parts "ridiculous" and "amusing" -- is the open invitation to the Scalabrine Hoop Camp. This supposedly is some Neighborhood of Make-Believe were Brian and his "expert staff" (none of which are named) teach you about sill development, teamwork, and fun. Or as the website says: The Dream Starts Now.
I suppose that, to a certain extent, anybody who makes it into the NBA has to be a pretty good basketball player. I'm sure if Brian showed up at my pickup league, he'd totally clean house. Well, I'm pretty sure, anyway. But I still don't think I'd pay money to have him teach me the fundamentals of the game, even if that teaching does come with a free t-shirt. I've seen Brian play. He can't shoot, pass, or rebound. Watching him dribble the ball is like watching someone try to play Scrabble during an epileptic seizure. I guess he's kind of tall and everything, but the last time I checked you can't teach height. Although even if you could, I'm sure he'd find a way to screw that up too.
"I have attended Brian's camps for the past 4 years. Each year I had a great time. Not only have I become a much better basketball player but also a better person." ~ Austin, age 10, New YorkI feel kind of bad calling Brian a liar, especially since I haven't actually met him in person. But I find it impossible to believe that a 10-year-old could become a better person by attending Camp Scalabrine, and I find it preposterous to think that the kid would actually say that even if it were true. That wasn't the best quote on the page, though. This one was:
"Brian's camp gave me a lot more confidence when I'm on the court. My favorite station is low post moves. It really helps me dominate the inside." ~ Jordan, age 8, New YorkI'm glad that Brian and his staff can help a child realize the dream of low post domination. But this quote is pretty suspect. Do elementary school children know what the low post is, let alone what it means to dominate? Is there a "Trash Talk" station at Brian's camp? We may never know. I tried to register, but no dates or prices are currently available.
Anybody who watched the Bulls over the last few years already knew Eddy Curry didn't like to be touched. I mean, this guy avoided physical contact like he was the last slice of pizza in a take-out box and the opposing team was made up entirely of Oliver Miller clones. But I don't think anyone really understood how deeply his aversion to the human touch ran. Until now, that is. In a recent interview, Curry, now a member of the pitiful Knicks, was asked whether he had any pet peeves. This...was his response:
"Eww!! Ewwwww!!! Don't touch me!! Ewww!!"
I guess you can read the interview if you have any interest whatsoever in Eddy Curry. Some highlights include, oh, I don't know, that he has three kids, and, uh, likes catfish. And, uhm, or forget it. Nobody cares about Eddy Curry. Unless they want to poke something soft and squishy.
"People touching me. On our team we got a lot of young guys and they always want to poke at you and tickle you and stuff and I really hate that."I'm not sure which is the more disturbing revelation: that Eddy plays like he's made of glass because bumping into other guys scares him, or that there are "a lot of young guys" on the Knicks who apparently enjoy poking and tickling their 6'11", 285 pound center. According to the interview, Curry already employs a housekeeper, a driver, and a personal chef. Maybe he should hire Mr. Whipple too, just to keep those crazy kids from launching a tickle attack every time he comes into the locker room.
I guess you can read the interview if you have any interest whatsoever in Eddy Curry. Some highlights include, oh, I don't know, that he has three kids, and, uh, likes catfish. And, uhm, or forget it. Nobody cares about Eddy Curry. Unless they want to poke something soft and squishy.
I would feel like an irresponsible psuedo-journalist if I didn't post the Kendra Davis mug shot published by the New York Daily News. I especially like the puppy-dog eyes she's making at the camera. Unfortunately for Kendra, it's still illegal to throw hot coffee on someone, no matter how adorablely sad you look at the police station.
Of course, she didn't look nearly as contrite when she was bullying nerds at that Bulls game a few weeks back. I'm just sayin'.
"Raaargh!! Kendra smash!!"
Of course, she didn't look nearly as contrite when she was bullying nerds at that Bulls game a few weeks back. I'm just sayin'.
Even die-hard basketball fans can fall in love. Whether it's with your wife, a long-term girlfriend, or just the Lieutenant Uhuru-shaped plush doll you bought at that last Star Trek convention, most of us have experienced the burning desire to be a part of something bigger and better than ourselves.
It's that very same sense of hopeless longing that inspires us to follow a our favorite sports team, even in the worst of times. But, as with any love affair, the fan-to-team relationship can be a double-edged razor blade that slits the wrists of your hopes and dreams. Your girlfriend may be the bootylicious goddess of your darkest fantasies, but she might also hate your friends and throw your porn collection in the trash. So yeah, you can love someone or something without necessarily loving everything about them.
And so we continue to rip on our most hated former Pacers.
A legend in his own mind
by The Almost Fan
Chuck Person was supposed to be a savior of sorts for the Indiana Pacers. After a relatively distinguished career at Auburn (in which he averaged almost 20 points and 8 rebounds a game over four seasons), he was selected fourth overall in the first round of the 1986 NBA Draft. He came out gangbusters that first year, averaging 18.8 points and 8.3 rebounds a game, winning the 1987 Rookie of the Year award, and leading the Pacers to a more-than-respectable 41-41 record...a 15-win improvement over the previous year's dismal 26-56 campaign. Considering that he was chosen after other more well-known college phenoms like Brad Daugherty and Len Bias (who died less than 48 hours after getting drafted by the Celtics), he far exceeded anyone's expectations for him.
But here's the problem: he never got any better.
All things being equal, the Pacers should have improved drastically over the next few years, what with Person and the infusion of quality players like Reggie Miller, Detlef Schrempf, and Rik Smits. Instead, they just got progressively worse, going 38-44 and then 28-54 in the two seasons following Chuck's rookie year. The light began to shine during the 1989-90 season when the team finally racked up a winning recod (42-40), but they were promptly swept out of the playoffs by the eventual champion Detroit Pistons. In that series, Person averaged 13.3 points per game while shooting 37 percent from the field, including a horrific 1-10 from beyond the arc (his supposed specialty). It wasn't just the Piston defense, either; he hit only 41 percent of his freethrows too.
The team took a step back in 1990-91, winning only 41 games. But they snuck into the playoffs as the seventh seed and pushed a much better Celtics team to the limit, losing in the final seconds of game 5 by the score of 124-121. That series was Chuck Person at his absolute best. He led the team with 26 points per game, shooting 53 percent from the field and an amazing 54 percent from downtown. He even improved on his notoriously bad freethrow shooting, hitting 81 percent from the charity stripe. Every game, even the losses, seemed to feature some incredible feat by Person -- ridiculous fade-away rainbow shots, three-pointers in the face of tenacious defenders, improbable 35-foot bombs to beat the buzzer -- highlighted by Game 2 in which he scored 39 points and hit on a then-record seven three-pointers. Chuck abused Larry Bird throughout the series, talking trash and announcing to the media that he, Chuck Conners Person, was now the "greatest basketball player in the world." It took a truly legendary peformance from Bird, who returned from a concussion in Game 5, to hold the Pacers and Person off down the stretch.
Big things were expected from the Pacers in 1991-92, but they regressed again, going 40-42 and drawing the Celtics in the first round for the second year in a row. The Celtics were without Bird and starting point guard Dee Brown, but the Pacers couldn't capitalize and got swept. The general consensus was that the Pacers were the better team but they either underachieved, or choked, or both. In truth, the Pacers biggest problem was Person, who averaged only 17 points on 40 percent shooting. He had guaranteed a victory before each game, but except for a 32-point outburst in Game 2, he simply didn't produce. What's more, his rebounding and defense were atrocious: he averaged only 3 rebounds while his Celtics' counterpart, Kevin Gamble, lit him up for 21 points and 6 boards a game.
By the time the final horn sounded in that series, Chuck had come to symbolize everything that was wrong with the Pacers. He didn't play defense. He didn't post up or take it strong to the hoop, which meant he rarely got to the line. And even when he did get fouled, it was usually a wash since he was a below-average freethrow shooter. His rebounding dropped dramatically after his rookie year, falling from 8.3 in 1986-87 to only 5.3 in 1991-92. Moreoever, he seldom showed the drive and effort it takes to succeed in the NBA. He didn't dive for loose balls, he didn't take charges, and many times he seemed to sleepwalk through entire games, unless he was facing a superstar like Bird, Charles Barkley, or Michael Jordan. Unless he had a compelling one-on-one matchup "worthy" of him, he just didn't seem to care.
To top it all off, Chuck like to talk. A lot. He talked junk to everybody: opposing players and coaches, referees, ball boys, even his own teammates sometimes. To make it even worse, he particularly delighted in doing this on the road, which usually fired up the other team and their crowd. And who knows how many games his lackadaisical attitude and overactive jawbone cost the Pacers over the years? Not surprisingly, Chuck was traded to Minnesota before the 1992-93 season. And while he still had a couple productive seasons left in him, that was pretty much the death knell of his career. And the Pacers? The post-Person era has been kind to them. Within three years of his departure, the Pacers had back-to-back 50-win seasons and made it to the 7th game of the Eastern Conference Finals twice. They've been a top-tier team ever since, even though Ron Artest has tried to single-handedly destroy the franchise.
And so ends the Story of Chuck, my least favorite Pacer. He was best known as "The Rifleman," and he lived up to that nickname, leaving the NBA in pretty much the same way he entered it: as a man capable of incredible displays of long-distance shooting and little else. What a waste.
It's that very same sense of hopeless longing that inspires us to follow a our favorite sports team, even in the worst of times. But, as with any love affair, the fan-to-team relationship can be a double-edged razor blade that slits the wrists of your hopes and dreams. Your girlfriend may be the bootylicious goddess of your darkest fantasies, but she might also hate your friends and throw your porn collection in the trash. So yeah, you can love someone or something without necessarily loving everything about them.
And so we continue to rip on our most hated former Pacers.
A legend in his own mind
by The Almost Fan
Chuck Person was supposed to be a savior of sorts for the Indiana Pacers. After a relatively distinguished career at Auburn (in which he averaged almost 20 points and 8 rebounds a game over four seasons), he was selected fourth overall in the first round of the 1986 NBA Draft. He came out gangbusters that first year, averaging 18.8 points and 8.3 rebounds a game, winning the 1987 Rookie of the Year award, and leading the Pacers to a more-than-respectable 41-41 record...a 15-win improvement over the previous year's dismal 26-56 campaign. Considering that he was chosen after other more well-known college phenoms like Brad Daugherty and Len Bias (who died less than 48 hours after getting drafted by the Celtics), he far exceeded anyone's expectations for him.
But here's the problem: he never got any better.
All things being equal, the Pacers should have improved drastically over the next few years, what with Person and the infusion of quality players like Reggie Miller, Detlef Schrempf, and Rik Smits. Instead, they just got progressively worse, going 38-44 and then 28-54 in the two seasons following Chuck's rookie year. The light began to shine during the 1989-90 season when the team finally racked up a winning recod (42-40), but they were promptly swept out of the playoffs by the eventual champion Detroit Pistons. In that series, Person averaged 13.3 points per game while shooting 37 percent from the field, including a horrific 1-10 from beyond the arc (his supposed specialty). It wasn't just the Piston defense, either; he hit only 41 percent of his freethrows too.
The team took a step back in 1990-91, winning only 41 games. But they snuck into the playoffs as the seventh seed and pushed a much better Celtics team to the limit, losing in the final seconds of game 5 by the score of 124-121. That series was Chuck Person at his absolute best. He led the team with 26 points per game, shooting 53 percent from the field and an amazing 54 percent from downtown. He even improved on his notoriously bad freethrow shooting, hitting 81 percent from the charity stripe. Every game, even the losses, seemed to feature some incredible feat by Person -- ridiculous fade-away rainbow shots, three-pointers in the face of tenacious defenders, improbable 35-foot bombs to beat the buzzer -- highlighted by Game 2 in which he scored 39 points and hit on a then-record seven three-pointers. Chuck abused Larry Bird throughout the series, talking trash and announcing to the media that he, Chuck Conners Person, was now the "greatest basketball player in the world." It took a truly legendary peformance from Bird, who returned from a concussion in Game 5, to hold the Pacers and Person off down the stretch.Big things were expected from the Pacers in 1991-92, but they regressed again, going 40-42 and drawing the Celtics in the first round for the second year in a row. The Celtics were without Bird and starting point guard Dee Brown, but the Pacers couldn't capitalize and got swept. The general consensus was that the Pacers were the better team but they either underachieved, or choked, or both. In truth, the Pacers biggest problem was Person, who averaged only 17 points on 40 percent shooting. He had guaranteed a victory before each game, but except for a 32-point outburst in Game 2, he simply didn't produce. What's more, his rebounding and defense were atrocious: he averaged only 3 rebounds while his Celtics' counterpart, Kevin Gamble, lit him up for 21 points and 6 boards a game.
By the time the final horn sounded in that series, Chuck had come to symbolize everything that was wrong with the Pacers. He didn't play defense. He didn't post up or take it strong to the hoop, which meant he rarely got to the line. And even when he did get fouled, it was usually a wash since he was a below-average freethrow shooter. His rebounding dropped dramatically after his rookie year, falling from 8.3 in 1986-87 to only 5.3 in 1991-92. Moreoever, he seldom showed the drive and effort it takes to succeed in the NBA. He didn't dive for loose balls, he didn't take charges, and many times he seemed to sleepwalk through entire games, unless he was facing a superstar like Bird, Charles Barkley, or Michael Jordan. Unless he had a compelling one-on-one matchup "worthy" of him, he just didn't seem to care.
To top it all off, Chuck like to talk. A lot. He talked junk to everybody: opposing players and coaches, referees, ball boys, even his own teammates sometimes. To make it even worse, he particularly delighted in doing this on the road, which usually fired up the other team and their crowd. And who knows how many games his lackadaisical attitude and overactive jawbone cost the Pacers over the years? Not surprisingly, Chuck was traded to Minnesota before the 1992-93 season. And while he still had a couple productive seasons left in him, that was pretty much the death knell of his career. And the Pacers? The post-Person era has been kind to them. Within three years of his departure, the Pacers had back-to-back 50-win seasons and made it to the 7th game of the Eastern Conference Finals twice. They've been a top-tier team ever since, even though Ron Artest has tried to single-handedly destroy the franchise.
And so ends the Story of Chuck, my least favorite Pacer. He was best known as "The Rifleman," and he lived up to that nickname, leaving the NBA in pretty much the same way he entered it: as a man capable of incredible displays of long-distance shooting and little else. What a waste.
cheater's proof (cheet'-erz pruf) noun. A karmic occurrence which serves as indisputable evidence that a particular call or non-call was -- in the immortal words of Bill S. Preston and Ted "Theodore" Logan -- totally bogus.
Usage example: Kobe hit Ray Allen's arm when he "stole" the ball, so it was cheater's proof when Bryant immediately turned it back over.
Word Mystery: The cheater's proof is a mystical occurrence in which the Basketball Gods use their divine powers to negate bad officiating. The most common manifestation of this phenomenon is when a player gets a "superstar call" (in which no significant contact is made but the whistle blows anyway) and then misses one or both of the ensuing freethrows. Other examples include: when a player steals the ball by making illegal contact and then has it stolen back in a similar manner; when a player travels without incurring a violation but then turns the ball over in some other way (such as throwing it out of bounds); and so on.
Usage example: Kobe hit Ray Allen's arm when he "stole" the ball, so it was cheater's proof when Bryant immediately turned it back over.
Word Mystery: The cheater's proof is a mystical occurrence in which the Basketball Gods use their divine powers to negate bad officiating. The most common manifestation of this phenomenon is when a player gets a "superstar call" (in which no significant contact is made but the whistle blows anyway) and then misses one or both of the ensuing freethrows. Other examples include: when a player steals the ball by making illegal contact and then has it stolen back in a similar manner; when a player travels without incurring a violation but then turns the ball over in some other way (such as throwing it out of bounds); and so on.
How many times does a record-breaking accomplishment seem kind of pathetic? Such was the case this weekend when the Los Angeles Clippers moved 11 games over .500 for the first time. Not for the first time this season, mind you, but in team history. And if you had to guess how something like that would happen, wouldn't you assume it might occur in a close win against one of the worst teams in the league? Well, check and check, since they did it by beating the Raptors 115-113 in overtime. At what point did the Raptors become the Washington Generals of the NBA? Pretty soon "the Raptors" is going to replace "the Clippers" as the punchline of choice in every joke about bad basketball teams. In fact, I'm going to start keeping track of every occassion in which a season-high or all-time record comes at the Raptors' expense. And believe me, that's the only reason I could possibly come up with for tracking Raptors games. Oh, by the way, they shipped off Jalen Rose and got Antionio Davis back for a second go-around. Great. Now the Canadians can deal with Kendra.
Speaking of Davis, the Pacers originally traded him to Toronto in 1999 for draft rights to the straight-from-high-school-phenom Jonathan Bender. Davis, of course, went on to become an All-Star. And Bender? He announced this weekend what Pacers fans have already known for some time: that his career is officially over.Now don't be surprised if you find yourself saying "Jonathan Who?" Bender only played in only 237 games over the course of his seven-year...well, whatever you want to call it. I'm not sure it qualifies as an actual "career," particularly since he only played nine games in the the last two years. He's yet another sign that God hates the Pacers. Bender was a player of limitless potential -- an athletic, seven-foot shot-blocker with ball-handling skills and three-point shooting ability -- who could never get healthy enough to, you know, play.
In yet another statement that shocked maybe two or three people, Kobe Bryant has called out his teammates. Again. Not surprisingly, the Lakers' record is 2-4 since Kobe scored 81. Some other win/loss records of note include:
- Minnesota's record since the Wally-for-Ricky trade: 2-4
- Boston's record since the Ricky-for-Wally trade: 1-5
- Sacramento's record since obtaining Ron Artest: 2-3
- Indiana's record since getting rid of Artest: 2-2
Gordon also said that he wanted to spend more time at the point, so he could "create for [his] teammates by taking the ball to the basket." But Gordon takes it to the cup less than any 2-guard in the league. He shoots jumpers almost exclusively, which means he's only dangerous when he's shooting well. He's too small to effectively defend other shooting guards, he's not a good passer, and he can't rebound. Basically, he's only good for a quick infusion of points, and even then only on occassion. Oh, and he sulks when he doesn't start or get enough playing time. Considering how much was expected of him this season, it's no wonder the Bulls are underachieving.
The NBA announced the participants of the All-Star Slam Dunk Contest. They are: This Guy, That Guy, What's-His-Face, and Some Dude. Let's face it, nobody cares about the dunk contest anymore. Guys like Kobe and Lebron James could save it, turn it into a marquee event again, but they aren't interested. For his part, James says he doesn't want to be defined by the dunk contest. And he's probably right, since it totally ruined Michael Jordan's career.
A few years ago, I watched a Pat Riley interview after the Heat suffered a 20-point road clubbering. He basically discounted the entire evening, saying this was a direct result of a commonly-known-but-never-spoken-of "20/20 Rule".The Rule states that any time a team wins at home by 20 points or more, and their next game is on the road, the team will be so sluggish from home-cooking and coasting through the previous game that a blowout loss is certain. And vice-versa, a painful road whoopin', followed by some lovin' with your mistresses in the comfort of your own mansion? The next home game is a guaranteed win before the opening tip.
Riley alluded to this as if it were fact, and the loss had nothing to do with the Heat running its "offense" through Clarence Weatherspoon and Voshon Lenard. From then on, I accepted The Rule as common knowledge. That is, until I noticed more than a few teams apparently robbed of their "free win" on the tail-end of The Rule. So I decided to to some research on this. The type of research that kills your social life and gets confused looks from your friends. Yes, I'm taking this way too seriously.
(Warning: Nerd content)
So far this year, teams over .500 lose 47% of their road games. But if the road game follows a big home win, they only lose 38%, the opposite of what The Rule says. Winning teams seem to gain momentum from the big win, regardless of what some old fable says.
Also, the 20/20 Rule has no effect on these teams going home. This year they've won 72% of their home games. After getting blown out on the road, winning teams win the following home game 73% of the time.
On the flip side, teams at or below .500 have won 49% of their home games this year. After coming off a big road loss and going home, losing teams are demoralized and actually play worse, only winning the following home game 39% of the time, again the opposite of the 20/20 rule.
Could Pat Riley be wrong?!? He wouldn't use an old wives' myth to justify his team getting squashed? So I took another look at the losing teams. After coming off a mysterious blowout win at home, the bad teams only win 24% of their road games, lower than their season average of 32% overall. So the 20/20 Rule does have a smidge of feasibility, but it's hardly an unwritten law of the NBA universe.
In the end, Riley's
"If only we could have lost by three more points..."
Our continuing series continues as the Basketbawful staff explains how you can love the sum of a team's parts while still hating some of those parts.
It was a good idea at the time
by The Statbuster
The Pacers were fresh off nearly being swept by the Knicks in the 1st round, allowing 108 ppg to one of the league's worst offensive teams. It was obvious the Pacers D had more holes than the plot of Big Momma's House 2. Something had to be done.
Detlef Schrempf was demanding more money every year, and was understandably frustrated with a Pacers post-season slump that would make Kevin Garnett cringe. Donnie Walsh popped two pimples at once and shipped Cocktail Schrempf off to Seattle for a name I quickly learned to despise...Derrick McKey.
On paper, McKey had plenty of upside. McKey was young, had posted consecutive 15 and 6 compaigns, great feel for the game, and played D...only if the Pacers knew his best years were already behind him.
This picture represents the only time McKey ever actually played defense for the Pacers.
Derrick McKey played with the intensity of Ned Flanders. His talent kept him in Larry Brown's favor, but Mckey would sleepwalk for minutes at a time. At one point, he averaged nearly 4 turnovers a game, an insanely high number for someone who doesn't score, rebound, or put the ball on the floor.
McKey enjoyed postseason success in the following years, despite his worst efforts. Fans had the pleasure of watching this drowsy peanut-head put up increasingly anemic numbers while the long-gone Detlef made trips to the All-Star Game.
Derrick McKey will probably be best remembered by non-Pacermanics for forcing a late turnover on Michael Jordan in the '98 playoffs, forcing a Game 7 against the Bulls. The replay clearly showed McKey's "clutch stop" was Jordan tripping on McKey's foot. McKey once again reaps the benefits of simply being there.
And that head. That freakish head.
It's freaky. Trust us.
It was a good idea at the time
by The Statbuster
The Pacers were fresh off nearly being swept by the Knicks in the 1st round, allowing 108 ppg to one of the league's worst offensive teams. It was obvious the Pacers D had more holes than the plot of Big Momma's House 2. Something had to be done.
Detlef Schrempf was demanding more money every year, and was understandably frustrated with a Pacers post-season slump that would make Kevin Garnett cringe. Donnie Walsh popped two pimples at once and shipped Cocktail Schrempf off to Seattle for a name I quickly learned to despise...Derrick McKey.
On paper, McKey had plenty of upside. McKey was young, had posted consecutive 15 and 6 compaigns, great feel for the game, and played D...only if the Pacers knew his best years were already behind him.
Derrick McKey played with the intensity of Ned Flanders. His talent kept him in Larry Brown's favor, but Mckey would sleepwalk for minutes at a time. At one point, he averaged nearly 4 turnovers a game, an insanely high number for someone who doesn't score, rebound, or put the ball on the floor.
McKey enjoyed postseason success in the following years, despite his worst efforts. Fans had the pleasure of watching this drowsy peanut-head put up increasingly anemic numbers while the long-gone Detlef made trips to the All-Star Game.
Derrick McKey will probably be best remembered by non-Pacermanics for forcing a late turnover on Michael Jordan in the '98 playoffs, forcing a Game 7 against the Bulls. The replay clearly showed McKey's "clutch stop" was Jordan tripping on McKey's foot. McKey once again reaps the benefits of simply being there.
And that head. That freakish head.
Here at Basketbawful, we love the Indiana Pacers. To us, the Pacers are like that secret crush you harbored all throughout high school. She was smart, funny, and oh-so cute, but she always seemed to be dating somebody else. When she broke up with her boyfriend during Senior Year, you thought your chance had finally come. But she told you she needed some time to "rethink" things, and then she ended up dating that asshole with the mullet just because his parents had money and bought him a new car. Bitch. Anyway, she managed to break your heart a thousand different times in a thousand different ways, but you never stopped secretly watching her at night, usually perched in a tree across the street from her house, thinking "what if...?".
And that's how we feel about the Pacers. We watch, we hope, we cry when that hope is devoured in the whirling jaws of fate. But as much as we love the team, once in a while they pick up a player we can only love to hate. So begins the first installment of a four-part series in which each member of the Basketbawful staff will rail on the former or current Pacer we most despise who's not named Ron Artest.
Mark Jackson.
I hated him. Yeah, he's the 2nd all-time assist leader in the NBA, but I still hate him. He could run a slow, half court offense, but to me, there were other issues involved. He was slower than spit. I remember old clips of Mark trying to guard Isiah Thomas and Mark was out of the screenshot almost everytime. The one play that really sticks out in my mind was Isiah taking the ball from top of the key, blowing by Mark to get to the base line, then blowing by Mark again one his way back out to the top of the key, then blowing by him again for a layup. And during that whole sequence, it seemed like Mark was always somewhere behind Isiah. Mark Jackson was just slow...and slow point guards just dont seem like the "prototypical" point guard to me.
Another thing that just irked me about Mark was that "point to the hoop with my thumb" thing he did before every freethrow. I mean, c'mon, what the hell was the point of that? I could understand him doing it everytime if it really helped his freethrow shooting, but the guy only shot 77 percent for his career!
What the hell?!
But the biggest thing that made me hate him the most was that fuckin' JACKSON JIGGLE. Watching him look at the crowd, pout his lips, lean back and shake his shoulders in celebration for scoring a whopping eight points a game made my hatred for him grow. God, I just wanted to clothesline him when he did it.
Dick.
And that's how we feel about the Pacers. We watch, we hope, we cry when that hope is devoured in the whirling jaws of fate. But as much as we love the team, once in a while they pick up a player we can only love to hate. So begins the first installment of a four-part series in which each member of the Basketbawful staff will rail on the former or current Pacer we most despise who's not named Ron Artest.
He was slow, couldn't shoot, and I hated him
by Mr. P
Mark Jackson.
I hated him. Yeah, he's the 2nd all-time assist leader in the NBA, but I still hate him. He could run a slow, half court offense, but to me, there were other issues involved. He was slower than spit. I remember old clips of Mark trying to guard Isiah Thomas and Mark was out of the screenshot almost everytime. The one play that really sticks out in my mind was Isiah taking the ball from top of the key, blowing by Mark to get to the base line, then blowing by Mark again one his way back out to the top of the key, then blowing by him again for a layup. And during that whole sequence, it seemed like Mark was always somewhere behind Isiah. Mark Jackson was just slow...and slow point guards just dont seem like the "prototypical" point guard to me.
Another thing that just irked me about Mark was that "point to the hoop with my thumb" thing he did before every freethrow. I mean, c'mon, what the hell was the point of that? I could understand him doing it everytime if it really helped his freethrow shooting, but the guy only shot 77 percent for his career!
But the biggest thing that made me hate him the most was that fuckin' JACKSON JIGGLE. Watching him look at the crowd, pout his lips, lean back and shake his shoulders in celebration for scoring a whopping eight points a game made my hatred for him grow. God, I just wanted to clothesline him when he did it.
We didn't really need any independent confirmation of this, but now it's official: Kendra Davis is certifiably non compos mentis (i.e., totally batshit crazy). Apparently, Davis was driving around Naperville, Illinois, probably discussing Galilean transformation with the voices in her head, when she blew through a stop sign and almost hit another motorist, one Kathleen J. Bessner.
Bessner, who didn't realize she was dealing with a complete lunatic, followed Davis and confronted her about, you know, almost causing a major traffic accident. Davis, always so calm and cool, responded by throwing a cup of McDonald's coffee into Bessner's driver's side window.
The weapon of choice for psychos everywhere.
Anybody who remembers the McDonald's Coffee Case knows that their coffee is probably the most dangerous substance on the face of the Earth. When not properly stored in a flimsy styrofoam container, McDonald's coffee has been scientifically proven capable of eating through almost six feet of solid steel. So really, Kendra's actions could probably be construed as attempted homicide. Instead, it was filed as simple assault, and after turning herself in and posting $500 bond, she's once again walking the streets, most likely searching for her next victim.
Of course, famous people and their spouses never do anything wrong, so Kendra is defending her the coffee assault by claiming that Bessner used a racial slur during the confrontation. Bessner, naturally, is denying this. Who knows what was actually said, but Kendra should know that soaking people in burning hot liquid is still illegal no matter how much you don't like what they have to say.
Bessner, who didn't realize she was dealing with a complete lunatic, followed Davis and confronted her about, you know, almost causing a major traffic accident. Davis, always so calm and cool, responded by throwing a cup of McDonald's coffee into Bessner's driver's side window.
Anybody who remembers the McDonald's Coffee Case knows that their coffee is probably the most dangerous substance on the face of the Earth. When not properly stored in a flimsy styrofoam container, McDonald's coffee has been scientifically proven capable of eating through almost six feet of solid steel. So really, Kendra's actions could probably be construed as attempted homicide. Instead, it was filed as simple assault, and after turning herself in and posting $500 bond, she's once again walking the streets, most likely searching for her next victim.
Of course, famous people and their spouses never do anything wrong, so Kendra is defending her the coffee assault by claiming that Bessner used a racial slur during the confrontation. Bessner, naturally, is denying this. Who knows what was actually said, but Kendra should know that soaking people in burning hot liquid is still illegal no matter how much you don't like what they have to say.
win hog (win' hawg) noun. A player who will do anything and everything it takes to win a game, even if it means hogging the ball, disregarding the coaching staff, and alienating teammates, and especially if it means scoring lots and lots of points.
Usage example: Kobe didn't take 64 shots last night because he's a ball hog. It's because he's a win hog.
Word History: The term "win hog" was coined by Kobe Bryant in response to the criticism leveled against his iron-fisted domination of the Lakers offense. Said Kobe: "I [won't] sacrifice wins by holding myself back to give teammates chances that they are not taking advantage of."
Ball hog? No. Win hog? Yes.
Usage example: Kobe didn't take 64 shots last night because he's a ball hog. It's because he's a win hog.
Word History: The term "win hog" was coined by Kobe Bryant in response to the criticism leveled against his iron-fisted domination of the Lakers offense. Said Kobe: "I [won't] sacrifice wins by holding myself back to give teammates chances that they are not taking advantage of."
Ball-hoggery has really been reaching new and never-thought-I'd-freaking-see heights lately. Case in point: New York High School senior Epiphanny Prince just scored 113 points in a game, breaking into little, bite-size pieces the girls' national prep record of 105 points previously held by Hall of Famer Cheryl Miller.
Man-beast Epiphanny Prince (pictured left) can really put the damn ball in the hoop.
Prince, a 5'9" shoots-a-lot guard, hit on 56 of 60 shots to lead Murry Bergtraum in a 137-32 win over Brandeis High School. It was the most brutal and senseless beating since Ivan Drago punched Apollo Creed into a small, bloody mess. Some people might think going for 100 points when you're already beating a team by more than that is a cruel act of selfish narcissism. And you can count Brandeis coach Vera Springer among those people. Going in, her team had only won four league games all season, and after getting savagely thrashed by 105 points, she was pissed:
Prince wasn't the only girl to make competitive history this week. Sonya Thomas, a 100-pound Burger King shift manager known as "The Black Widow," ate 26 grilled cheese sandwiches to win the World Grilled Cheese Eating Championship.
Would you believe this tiny woman is one of the world's greatest eaters?
Thomas, who was disappointed that she wasn't able to gobble down 30 sandwiches, said she has a naturally big stomach capacity and heavily soaked her sandwiches in water to make them easier to swallow. She trains by drinking large amounts of water to expand her stomach capacity and practices relaxing her throat. And if that doesn't make her one of the most exciting potential dates you can possibly imagine, keep in mind she once ate 37 hot dogs in 12 minutes.
The WGCEC is just one of many eating contests sponsored by the International Federation Of Competitive Eating, along with the Big Daddy Burger Eating Contest, the Chili Cheese Fries Eating Championship, the Corned Beef Eating Championship, and the Valentine's Day Chocolate Massacre. Since I don't spend my days playing video games and watching old episodes of Space: 1999 in my parent's basement, I hadn't heard of the IFOCE before. But finding out about it gives me new hope that guys like Shawn Kemp and Oliver Miller can actually find a job now that they've eaten their way out of the NBA.
Prince, a 5'9" shoots-a-lot guard, hit on 56 of 60 shots to lead Murry Bergtraum in a 137-32 win over Brandeis High School. It was the most brutal and senseless beating since Ivan Drago punched Apollo Creed into a small, bloody mess. Some people might think going for 100 points when you're already beating a team by more than that is a cruel act of selfish narcissism. And you can count Brandeis coach Vera Springer among those people. Going in, her team had only won four league games all season, and after getting savagely thrashed by 105 points, she was pissed:
"It's nothing against Epiphanny. I have great admiration for her. This was an adult decision. Why would you do this against a team like ours? She didn't earn this. It was like picking on a handicapped person."Her words weren't just sour grapes, either. It's very possible some of her players are handicapped. They'd almost have to be. In other news, Antoine Walker was quoted as saying he'd "piledrive" any girl who tried to score a hundred on him.
Prince wasn't the only girl to make competitive history this week. Sonya Thomas, a 100-pound Burger King shift manager known as "The Black Widow," ate 26 grilled cheese sandwiches to win the World Grilled Cheese Eating Championship.
Thomas, who was disappointed that she wasn't able to gobble down 30 sandwiches, said she has a naturally big stomach capacity and heavily soaked her sandwiches in water to make them easier to swallow. She trains by drinking large amounts of water to expand her stomach capacity and practices relaxing her throat. And if that doesn't make her one of the most exciting potential dates you can possibly imagine, keep in mind she once ate 37 hot dogs in 12 minutes.
The WGCEC is just one of many eating contests sponsored by the International Federation Of Competitive Eating, along with the Big Daddy Burger Eating Contest, the Chili Cheese Fries Eating Championship, the Corned Beef Eating Championship, and the Valentine's Day Chocolate Massacre. Since I don't spend my days playing video games and watching old episodes of Space: 1999 in my parent's basement, I hadn't heard of the IFOCE before. But finding out about it gives me new hope that guys like Shawn Kemp and Oliver Miller can actually find a job now that they've eaten their way out of the NBA.
Kobe Bryant is sick of being called a ball hog just because he takes 30 shots a game. So the man who already calls himself Black Mamba has created a new nickname: "Win Hog." After all, he's only trying to help his team win, right?
"I suspected there would be criticism from the media and even some players. But the most important thing is that 81-point effort rallied us from an 18-point deficit to an 18-point win. If destiny positions me to score 100 points to help my team win a game, I certainly will take advantage of it in spite of any criticism."So basically, if Kobe thinks he has to score a hundred points for the Lakers to win, that's exactly what he's going to try to do...regardless of what anyone else thinks. This season is starting to resemble that scene in A Few Good Men where Colonel Jessup angrily admits that he ordered the Code Red. I'm expecting to see Kobe finally snap during an interview and start yelling, "You want me taking 46 shots, you need me taking 46 shots!!" right before he rips out Peter Vescey's eyes and urinates in his dead skull. Mark my words: it's going to happen. I know the Kobe-lovers out there think I'm just being crazy, but read this quote and tell me whether you think he wants to A. make his teammates better or B. shoot until his arms fall off:
"I [won't] sacrifice wins by holding myself back to give teammates chances that they are not taking advantage of effectively for us to win. As a leader, I have to take charge when we're struggling."Way to throw your team under the bus, Kobe. If I was a Laker and read that, they'd probably find me in the locker room tying my jersey into a noose and looking for a strong pipe to hang it from. This is that dangerous, season-on-the-brink-of-destruction moment where somebody has to step in and get Kobe under control. Ideally, that person should be coach Phil Jackson. After all, that's part of the reason Jerry Buss brought him back, right? Ego-management is supposed to be his specialty. After all, this is the man who reined in Michael Jordan and convinced him to pass the ball to guys like Stacy King and Luc Longley, right? Well, it looks like a year of retirement did more than make him fat, because Phil is publically refusing to stand up to Bryant.
"These Lakers are still a young team that's prone to get scared, lose poise and confidence. They need [Bryant's] aggressive leadership, especially on the road, to set the tone and put them in command of a game. Yes, there's a fine balance between how much his high point production takes confidence away from these younger players and how much it contributes to their ability to believe in themselves as a team."Translation: yes I know his ball-hoggery means the slow, lingering death of his teammates, but I'm powerless to stop it and we'll probably stay around .500 as long as he scores 40 points a night, and besides, I'm making ten million a year and sleeping with my boss's daughter, so, you know, life is good. Well, life might not be good for much longer. Your team's leader is a one-man-gang and you're giving him a license to shoot. This is not going to end well.
Allen Iverson Live is the self-proclaimed "Number One Source For Allen Iverson Fans." In other words, this is the best place to go if you have a dangerous and unhealthy obsession with Allen Iverson: his life, his loves, even his personal grooming habits.
Navigating the site is kind of like wandering through a seriel killer's secret lair alone and in the dark. You know something dangerously insane is about to happen to you, but you still aren't prepared when the chainsaw actually hits you in the face. Therefore my human mind was in no way ready for in-depth timelines of Iverson's hairstyles and tattoos, complete with "before and after" pictures, lenghty descriptions of each stylistic change, and a freaking interview with Iverson's hairstylist. Here's what the site author had to say about the "Maze" pattern Allen favored during the 1999-2000 season:
Nobody should be this interested in Allen Iverson's hair. Nobody.
After reading a thorough description of the different kinds of stocking caps Allen Iverson likes to wear when he's having a bad hair day, I realized that the site had reached a level of crazy where it might come to life and eat my liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. Then it did just that when I found a mini-game that lets you dress Allen Iverson. You can choose his underwear, uniform, gold chains, even his do-rags!!
You might not be able to tell, but I chose to have him wear the banana-colored thong.
And if putting imaginary clothes on a naked basketball player is a little too gay for your tastes, then you can play the tattoo puzzel game, where you can completely rebuild Iverson out of his own freaky tattoos, Frankenstein-style. But without question, the single most depressing aspect of this site is the fan art page. All hope I ever had in humanity died a screaming, gurgling death when I realized someone has actually drawn a basketball player's nipples. And since the thought of people sitting at home drawing pictures of a topless Allen Iverson is going to be keeping me up at night for at least the rest of the week, I'm going to subject you to this:
Somone drew Allen Iverson's nipples. His nipples.
Navigating the site is kind of like wandering through a seriel killer's secret lair alone and in the dark. You know something dangerously insane is about to happen to you, but you still aren't prepared when the chainsaw actually hits you in the face. Therefore my human mind was in no way ready for in-depth timelines of Iverson's hairstyles and tattoos, complete with "before and after" pictures, lenghty descriptions of each stylistic change, and a freaking interview with Iverson's hairstylist. Here's what the site author had to say about the "Maze" pattern Allen favored during the 1999-2000 season:
"Probably my personal favourite. Again, hair stylist Dionne Matthews has added something to the rows, without changing their straight line from the forehead to the neck. Really great, playoff-style."I don't know about you, but once I start using the words "personal favorite" in a discussion about a basketball player's hairstyle, I know it's time to give up sports fandom and check myself into a nice, comfy hospital where they'll keep me a safe distance away from innocent children.
After reading a thorough description of the different kinds of stocking caps Allen Iverson likes to wear when he's having a bad hair day, I realized that the site had reached a level of crazy where it might come to life and eat my liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. Then it did just that when I found a mini-game that lets you dress Allen Iverson. You can choose his underwear, uniform, gold chains, even his do-rags!!
And if putting imaginary clothes on a naked basketball player is a little too gay for your tastes, then you can play the tattoo puzzel game, where you can completely rebuild Iverson out of his own freaky tattoos, Frankenstein-style. But without question, the single most depressing aspect of this site is the fan art page. All hope I ever had in humanity died a screaming, gurgling death when I realized someone has actually drawn a basketball player's nipples. And since the thought of people sitting at home drawing pictures of a topless Allen Iverson is going to be keeping me up at night for at least the rest of the week, I'm going to subject you to this:
Holy crap! When we were pimping out Robin as our Basketbabe of the Week, we had no idea that the Golden State Warriors were involved in a racist sex scandal. A lame racist sex scandal, but a scandal nonetheless.
Apparently, a member of the Warriors' public relations staff sent a nasty e-mail to the team's entire media relations distribution list. The e-mail was titled "Ghetto Prom" and it contained 17 pictures of almost-naked women who were, naturally, of African American descent. Team President Robert Rowell quickly grabbed the Spin Control Hose in a desparate attempt to put out the flames of any potential accusations of racism:
Eric Govan, who was the No. 3 person on the Warriors' media relations staff, is now the number-not-on-the-staff-anymore person. Eric may have lost his totally sweet job with the Warriors, but on the up side I bet he'll never forget to check the address of an outgoing e-mail again.
Apparently, a member of the Warriors' public relations staff sent a nasty e-mail to the team's entire media relations distribution list. The e-mail was titled "Ghetto Prom" and it contained 17 pictures of almost-naked women who were, naturally, of African American descent. Team President Robert Rowell quickly grabbed the Spin Control Hose in a desparate attempt to put out the flames of any potential accusations of racism:
"It came to my attention moments ago that one of our employees had inadvertently sent out an e-mail that was in extreme poor taste and completely unprofessional. I can assure you that the contents of this e-mail -- or any unsaid presumptions -- do not represent the values and beliefs of the Golden State Warriors."I'm not trying to call Mr. Rowell a hypocrite or anything, but this is the same man who drafted Mike Dunleavy, well known as the whitest man in the Milky Way Galaxy. And has he even seen his team's cheerleading squad? I've slapped hookers who dress more conservatively that those ladies. Just what are the "values and beliefs" you're talking about, Robert? Apparently that it's okay to hire a group of whores to shake their firm, supple bodies in front of your fans...as long as that jiggling flesh is liberated and politically correct.
Eric Govan, who was the No. 3 person on the Warriors' media relations staff, is now the number-not-on-the-staff-anymore person. Eric may have lost his totally sweet job with the Warriors, but on the up side I bet he'll never forget to check the address of an outgoing e-mail again.
Here at Basketbawful, you shouldn't just laugh. You should fall in love. Our weekly Basketbabe feature is a special resource for you to learn about all the sexy chicks that dance for our favorite basketball teams. So tonight when you're telling people what you did, you can not only say, "I spent the day reading a page with a really hot girl," but you can list her hobbies and turn-offs, and they won't even know you spent the entire time looking at her boobs.
Speaking of which, this week's Basketbabe is a member of the Golden State Warriors' dance team, the Warrior Girls. Her name is Robin, and, well, just look at her:
I thought it was supposed to be warm in California.
And before you get any funny ideas, I didn't choose Robin because of her giant Golden Bozos. It just so happens I respect her for her mind, not her steaming Smoke Stacks. She has hobbies, like...like traveling and, I don't know, probably talking and stuff. So don't think I'm just staring at her Bouncing Betties. Those creamy Party Balls are the least of my concerns. In fact, when I read that she wanted to meet Oprah Winfrey, her magnificent Man Magnets were the furthest thing from my mind. Now of course, those luscious Love Sponges are amazing and everything, but they don't hold a candle to her favorite food, which is, uh, "soul food" (what the hell is that, anyway?). So yeah, there's more to this woman than a honkin' pair of Meat Melons. Did I mention that (Sandbags) her favorite artist (Snow Slopes) is Mary J. Blige (Sweater Bunnies)? Awh, to hell with it, look at that freaking rack!!
Boobtastic Acknowledgment: A special thanks goes out to our buddies over at Golden State Of Mind for their unprecedented coverage of the woeful Warriors and their smokin' hot dance team.
Speaking of which, this week's Basketbabe is a member of the Golden State Warriors' dance team, the Warrior Girls. Her name is Robin, and, well, just look at her:
And before you get any funny ideas, I didn't choose Robin because of her giant Golden Bozos. It just so happens I respect her for her mind, not her steaming Smoke Stacks. She has hobbies, like...like traveling and, I don't know, probably talking and stuff. So don't think I'm just staring at her Bouncing Betties. Those creamy Party Balls are the least of my concerns. In fact, when I read that she wanted to meet Oprah Winfrey, her magnificent Man Magnets were the furthest thing from my mind. Now of course, those luscious Love Sponges are amazing and everything, but they don't hold a candle to her favorite food, which is, uh, "soul food" (what the hell is that, anyway?). So yeah, there's more to this woman than a honkin' pair of Meat Melons. Did I mention that (Sandbags) her favorite artist (Snow Slopes) is Mary J. Blige (Sweater Bunnies)? Awh, to hell with it, look at that freaking rack!!
Boobtastic Acknowledgment: A special thanks goes out to our buddies over at Golden State Of Mind for their unprecedented coverage of the woeful Warriors and their smokin' hot dance team.
tragical (traj'-uh-kuhl) adjective. A word used to describe something -- be it an individual player, a particular game, a full season, or a painful playoff loss -- that is so extraordinarily tragic, it seems as if supernatural forces were responsible for the misfortune.
Usage example: Thanks to the antics of Ron Artest and injuries to several key players, the Pacers' season has gone from magical to tragical.
Word History: When the Celtics defeated the Lakers in the 1984 NBA Finals, the blame was placed squarely on Magic Johnson's slumped shoulders. In three of the Celtics' four wins, Magic committed several critical errors down the stretch, including dribbling out the shot clock, throwing several passes into the outstretched hands of Robert Parish, and missing crucial freethrows in overtime. After Game 7, Magic fell into a deep depression that lasted most of the offseason. His misery was well-documented by the media, so much so that Kevin McHale began calling him "Tragic Johnson." Kevin probably should have kept his mouth shut, though, because the Lakers came back and won the 1985 NBA Finals...even wrapping up the series in the Boston Garden.
Thanks for the tragical season, you jackass.
Usage example: Thanks to the antics of Ron Artest and injuries to several key players, the Pacers' season has gone from magical to tragical.
Word History: When the Celtics defeated the Lakers in the 1984 NBA Finals, the blame was placed squarely on Magic Johnson's slumped shoulders. In three of the Celtics' four wins, Magic committed several critical errors down the stretch, including dribbling out the shot clock, throwing several passes into the outstretched hands of Robert Parish, and missing crucial freethrows in overtime. After Game 7, Magic fell into a deep depression that lasted most of the offseason. His misery was well-documented by the media, so much so that Kevin McHale began calling him "Tragic Johnson." Kevin probably should have kept his mouth shut, though, because the Lakers came back and won the 1985 NBA Finals...even wrapping up the series in the Boston Garden.
Toronto Raptor coach Sam Mitchell has been getting bashed in the press ever since his crappy team allowed a single player to score 81 points against them. This is kind of understandable, especially considering the fact that there are nights when his entire team doesn't score that many points. Shot-happy goon Antione Walker, who hasn't played defense since someone stole his red crayon in Kindergarten, even had the gall to claim that "If somebody gets 81 on me, I'm going to clothesline him."
Well, Mitchell is sick of hearing it, especially from players like Walker, who is well-known for his not-so-tough-guyness. Not only does he think Antione is a lying pussy, he wants everyone to know that no amount of coaching strategy could have helped the woeful Raptors. After all, Kobe was on fire.
In all fairness to Sam, though, watching someone score that many points against your team is probably kind of like watching Godzilla eat your city. Sure, everybody jumps in and says you should have nuked him or something, but those same people will just run screaming when the monster comes to their town.
Well, Mitchell is sick of hearing it, especially from players like Walker, who is well-known for his not-so-tough-guyness. Not only does he think Antione is a lying pussy, he wants everyone to know that no amount of coaching strategy could have helped the woeful Raptors. After all, Kobe was on fire.
"One: We were trying to win the basketball game. We were up in the fourth quarter. Two: We did double team him. Three: He hit some incredible shots. He had shots where he stopped, pump-faked three times and our guys went up with him and he made shots. People should understand that he averages 35 points per game, so obviously he can score."I don't know. I sort of see where he's coming from, but it's pretty hard to justify not being able to stop someone from scoring 80 points. If anyone remembers the mid-90s, it sometimes took the Knicks and Heat three or four games to reach the 80-point mark. And do you think Charles Oakley would have stood by and watched Kobe notch 81? No, he would have hit Kobe over the head John Starks before he even made it to 60.
In all fairness to Sam, though, watching someone score that many points against your team is probably kind of like watching Godzilla eat your city. Sure, everybody jumps in and says you should have nuked him or something, but those same people will just run screaming when the monster comes to their town.
I and whoever's running the country both know I want to see sex, but for some reason we've come to the agreement that we need to trick me into looking at it. I don't know if it's a holdover from when we were all Puritans or if our pants really do cover shameful doorways to devilry, but we shouldn't need so many excuses to enjoy something that's so universally enjoyed.
For example, when you make the basic selling point of your dating show the fact that the couple will eventually get naked and make out in a hot tub, skip right to it. Don't make us sit through 20 minutes of boring conversation to get to the naked part. If I wanted that, I'd just sit a real girl where my TV is. The producers want us to see sex, so the show should just be about two insecure attention whores getting shoved into a closet after a dozen cocktails. I'd watch that. You could call it Humpin'. That creature that used to be Lindsey Lohan could host! "Welcome back to Humpi...wha...what am I?! What has science done?! Myeeeaaarrggghh!!"
So what it basically comes down to is this: you can't show sex unless it's vaguely disguised as something that's not-sex, otherwise complete moral outrage will ensue. The latest example of the "War On Fornication" comes to us courtesy of the American Decency Association. They're upset at the Pistons for releasing a "naughty" calendar featuring several members of their Automotion dance team. You see, instead of wearing gorilla suits or maybe dressing up like giant pieces of fruit, the Pistons' cheerleaders had the audacity to wear -- prepare to have the socks blown right off your feet -- bathing suits. According to the ADA, this is tantamount to pornography.
If this is supposed to be porn, these clumsy human words can't possibly express my disappointment.
I don't mean to brag, but I once attended a semi-private screening of a movie called Grind My Groin. It featured two gorgeous women, one of which was a teacher and the other of which was her student. Having failed her latest exam, the student was required to undress and then pleasure the teacher with a variety of tastefully vibrating toys in order to improve her grade. That was porn. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, unless something includes exposed nipples and kitchen appliances used to enhance hot girl-on-girl action, you're not legally entitled to label it as "pornographic," no matter how much asbestos you inhaled as a child.
Some people were even more offended by this group of attractive women lounging around in bathing suits. Barbara Rotary, the crazy beyotch who reported the calendar to the ADA, thinks the dancers are, essentially, hookers.
Our society seems to be hung up on sex being immoral, but it's just okay to show as long you can't see certain parts or it's shown in the "correct" forum. These kind of technicalities only compound whatever naughtiness sex already has. Take a look at Japan to see what happens when you create a bunch of very specific regulations about what's legal to show. After all the clever loopholes and workarounds filmmakers have to go through to show two people getting it on, you end up with cartoons about women shooting lasers out of their hoo-ha to fight off invading tentacles. And that's not allegory; I've rented that movie.
You know what else? I shouldn't have to see late-night infomercials about porn stars selling dong-growing pills where they're not allowed to say "penis." And I shouldn't have to sit through a woman's web of intrigue for 89 minutes to see one minute of her butt. Softcore porn is the emptiest gesture in the history of ethics. All it did was create an outlet for our worst filmmakers to suck, and more importantly, I was 28 before I figured out that sex wasn't rubbing my forehead on a woman's sternum and humping her belly button to saxophone music.
The only time we can be no-nonsense about sex is when there's a commercial with someone proclaiming, "I have genital herpes," in between shots of them fighting a bear on a kayak or hang gliding. According to these commercials, the rule seems to be that you can be as frank as you want about sex as long as it's gross. Another rule I came up with from these commercials is that if a woman wants to go kayaking on the first date, keep her and her hang glider away from my mucus membrane.
For example, when you make the basic selling point of your dating show the fact that the couple will eventually get naked and make out in a hot tub, skip right to it. Don't make us sit through 20 minutes of boring conversation to get to the naked part. If I wanted that, I'd just sit a real girl where my TV is. The producers want us to see sex, so the show should just be about two insecure attention whores getting shoved into a closet after a dozen cocktails. I'd watch that. You could call it Humpin'. That creature that used to be Lindsey Lohan could host! "Welcome back to Humpi...wha...what am I?! What has science done?! Myeeeaaarrggghh!!"
So what it basically comes down to is this: you can't show sex unless it's vaguely disguised as something that's not-sex, otherwise complete moral outrage will ensue. The latest example of the "War On Fornication" comes to us courtesy of the American Decency Association. They're upset at the Pistons for releasing a "naughty" calendar featuring several members of their Automotion dance team. You see, instead of wearing gorilla suits or maybe dressing up like giant pieces of fruit, the Pistons' cheerleaders had the audacity to wear -- prepare to have the socks blown right off your feet -- bathing suits. According to the ADA, this is tantamount to pornography.
I don't mean to brag, but I once attended a semi-private screening of a movie called Grind My Groin. It featured two gorgeous women, one of which was a teacher and the other of which was her student. Having failed her latest exam, the student was required to undress and then pleasure the teacher with a variety of tastefully vibrating toys in order to improve her grade. That was porn. I guess what I'm trying to say is that, unless something includes exposed nipples and kitchen appliances used to enhance hot girl-on-girl action, you're not legally entitled to label it as "pornographic," no matter how much asbestos you inhaled as a child.
Some people were even more offended by this group of attractive women lounging around in bathing suits. Barbara Rotary, the crazy beyotch who reported the calendar to the ADA, thinks the dancers are, essentially, hookers.
"To me, this is a form of prostitution. The Pistons are profiting from using women's bodies this way."While Ms. Rotary wasn't pictured in any of the articles I read, I'm going to take a wild guess and just assume that nobody has ever asked her to pose in a swimsuit calendar, probably because she's some kind of sloshing pork monster. Again, this is just a guess. But I've got news for you, Barbara: that calendar isn't even close to prostitution. In Las Vegas, silent men snap cards into your hands showing beautiful, naked women where just the nipples are blacked out. It's a take-out menu for a hooker! And if you call the number on that card, the very woman pictured will show up and have sex with you. That is prostitution. Until the girls in the calendar start coming to my house for high-priced booty calls, I think you'd better ease up on the accusations.
Our society seems to be hung up on sex being immoral, but it's just okay to show as long you can't see certain parts or it's shown in the "correct" forum. These kind of technicalities only compound whatever naughtiness sex already has. Take a look at Japan to see what happens when you create a bunch of very specific regulations about what's legal to show. After all the clever loopholes and workarounds filmmakers have to go through to show two people getting it on, you end up with cartoons about women shooting lasers out of their hoo-ha to fight off invading tentacles. And that's not allegory; I've rented that movie.
You know what else? I shouldn't have to see late-night infomercials about porn stars selling dong-growing pills where they're not allowed to say "penis." And I shouldn't have to sit through a woman's web of intrigue for 89 minutes to see one minute of her butt. Softcore porn is the emptiest gesture in the history of ethics. All it did was create an outlet for our worst filmmakers to suck, and more importantly, I was 28 before I figured out that sex wasn't rubbing my forehead on a woman's sternum and humping her belly button to saxophone music.
The only time we can be no-nonsense about sex is when there's a commercial with someone proclaiming, "I have genital herpes," in between shots of them fighting a bear on a kayak or hang gliding. According to these commercials, the rule seems to be that you can be as frank as you want about sex as long as it's gross. Another rule I came up with from these commercials is that if a woman wants to go kayaking on the first date, keep her and her hang glider away from my mucus membrane.
out-enthusiasm (owt'-en-thoo'-ze-az'-uhm) verb. out-enthusiamed, out-enthusiasming, out-enthusiams. To defeat a better player and/or team due to a superior display of passion, spirit, and drive to win.
Usage example: The Nets snapped the Pistons 11-game winning streak because they just flat out-enthusiasmed them.
Word History: At this point, do we even need to keep giving Magic Johnson credit for these things?
When Nenad Krstic [!!] beats you to a loose ball, you've just been out-enthusiasmed.
Usage example: The Nets snapped the Pistons 11-game winning streak because they just flat out-enthusiasmed them.
Word History: At this point, do we even need to keep giving Magic Johnson credit for these things?
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