OK everyone, Basketbawful is a indisposed for a while, so I, Evil Ted, must subject you to my hijacking of the site again (don't be fooled by the "by" line above - it's me). Anyway, as I toddled around some of bawful's incomplete "draft" posts, I found this writing about our playing once again on the road in my old league. It is incomplete, but I have recovered and published what I can. It's kind of like the museum display of the Dead Sea Scrolls. Well, it's actually nothing like that at all, for the writings of bawful, even the incomplete ones, are much more sacred than anything else ever published (please send all religious hate mail to: P.O. Box Bite Me, Wilmington, Delaware).

So here's what I found:

"Well, Evil Ted and I returned to the scene of the crime last night: The All-Hackers Pickup League. Before we left work, ET told me: "Tonight, let's keep our mouths shut and just play the game." I laughed and replied: "Hey, I wasn't the one who went off last time." To which he said: "Okay, fine. I'll keep my mouth shut and play the game."

Stat curse.

I showed up about a half hour early to warm up and shoot around. I was feeling pretty good, light on my feet. And I suppose I should interject something here. Last winter, I suffered a bad foot injury in a pickup game. I limped around for a week or so before finally going to the doctor. He said it was most likely a strained or torn muscle on top of the foot...the kind of thing that couldn't really be treated. It would have to heal on its own over time. My first question: "Can I keep playing basketball?" He told me yes, that it probably wouldn't make the injury any worse. So I kept playing twice a week.

But I struggled. I wouldn't tell anybody about my injury because, frankly, when other pickup ballers play the injury card it feels like a cheap excuse.

Hubie Brown always likes to say that when a player can"

And this is where bawful's post ends, tragically cut short by either apathy, or dread that the post was going nowhere, or perhaps, just perhaps, the hope that this post would someday be discovered by a courageous band of men in search of a Holy Grail...



I issue this challenge to you, readers of Basketbawful. Complete the Hubie Brown sentence. Be serious, be funny, be creative, be annoying...be any of these things, but be interesting (update: kneejerknba has started you out with an outstanding example). And hell, if you can actually figure out what bawful was going to say for real, maybe you'll get a prize (but don't count on it).

All I can add to this is my perspective of the evening in question. After having complete gone super Evil Ted in the league on the previous visit, I felt compelled to be super nice and ultra courteous. Needless to say, my team lost all night. We were bad, I mean "lose to a drunken band of midgets" bad. There's something about being a nice guy and winning that doesn't seem to mesh well together (see Steve Nash's career). But don't worry, I am certain in the coming weeks, my concern for what others think of me will evaporate, and the evilness of Evil Ted will rise like a Phoenix from the ashes (but nothing like the Phoenix Suns - again see Steve Nash's career).

I shall be on a golf course all day, but upon return I shall post all of your fabulous entries. Don't disappoint me, you little bastards - oops, Evil Ted's little vacation is over, it appears.

Labels: Basketbawful, complete that sentence contest, Hubie Brown

Human words cannot do this justice. So I'll use these words instead: Ba weep gra na weep ninny bong. Okay, now watch this video. But beware: After viewing it, nothing else in the universe will ever seem awesome to you again. Thanks for the link, Nick.

Labels: Baron Davis, fan submissions, man love, Steve Nash

Back in the 1960s, professional athletes didn't have blogs...but they did have Sports Illustrated. Guys like Bill Russell, Tommy Heinsohn and Wilt Chamberlain (among others) wrote various first-person articles for SI describing (for instance) the psychology of the game, how to run Red Auerbach's seven plays and why it sucks to be The Villain. In October of 1965, Russell authored a piece called The Psych...And My Other Tricks. Russell refers to this as his "master's thesis on The Psychology of Basketball, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Spook the Opposition."

In the article, Russell details the various mindgames that he and the other Celtics used against their opponents. Running underneath a jump shooter (without touching him), pretending to be tired when you're not, acting like you're fresh when you're actually exhausted, asking a hotshot player why he's not getting more shots...things like that. He also talks about how playing angry and becoming overconfident can hurt your game. (Yes, I'm looking at you, Paul Pierce.)

At point, Russ says: "You say these are minor league tricks? Maybe. But you'd be surprised at how often they work." And it's true. I can't speak for professional players, obviously, but a lot of these schemes work in pickup ball. For instance, in addition to hoops I also run half-marathons. And I make sure the people I play with know this. It creates an image in their mind of a tireless opponent. I try to enhance this image by never, ever breathing heavily during a game...no matter how tired I am. I can't tell you how many times I've heard a defender tell me something like, "Man, you never get tired" or "There's no way I can keep up with you." And as soon as they say that, I know I've got 'em.

Similarly, I try to never react to negative plays. Many times when a guy is missing shots or getting them blocked, he starts showing signs of frustration, hanging his head, cussing, swiping a fist through the air. That always gives the defender a boost, and when the man I'm guarding starts acting out, that's when I turn up the pressure to make him crack or give up. Conversely, I try (although I'm not always successful) to never look down or rattled no matter how many shots I've missed, or how ugly a turnover I just committed, or how violently my shot just got blocked. Otherwise, you've given your defender an edge.

One other scheme -- and I try to avoid this one, personally -- is to fake an injury. For instance, how many times have you seen a guy limping around on defense only to blast off downcourt as soon as his team gets the ball back. This tactic dupes the man he's playing against to go easy on him on offense and then slack off a little on defense. It may only work for a couple possessions, but sometimes that's enough to decide a game.

Here are Bill Russell's four laws of the psychout, as presented in his article.

Russell 's First Law: You must make the other player do what you want him to do. How? You must start him thinking. If he is thinking instead of doing, he is yours. There is no time in basketball to think: "This has happened; this is what I must do next." In the amount of time it takes to think through that semicolon, it is already too late.

Russell 's Second Law: You got to have the killer instinct. If you do not have it, forget about basketball and go into social psychology or something. If you sometimes wonder if you've got it, you ain't got it. No pussycats, please. The killer instinct, by my definition, is the ability to spot—and exploit—a weakness in your opponent. There are psychological subrules in this category.

To wit: always try a rookie. If you score on him and he thinks that maybe you scored because you are Bill Russell the superstar, he is yours forever after and you can wear him like a bauble on a charm bracelet.

To wit, further: always try a veteran. In my first year in pro basketball I came up against veteran Johnny Kerr , now with Baltimore . I blocked so many shots on him that first night—perhaps you remember—that he was wild with rage. He was so fired up they had to take him out of the game. That is frustration. That is also psychology. (And I might point out that as soon as he calmed down enough that season Kerr deliberately changed his style of shooting when he played against Boston . That is a kind of reverse psychology.)

Russell 's Third Law: Be cute but not cuddly. I mean, you should be nice at all times, but there is a lot to be said for an elbow in the chops when all else fails. This is forceful psychology. Last resort stuff.

Russell 's Final Law: Remember that basketball is a game of habit. In getting good at it, we develop certain habits. Therefore, if you make a player deviate from his habits—by psyching him—you've got him

All right. You now have an honorary Master's Degree in The Psych. Go use it.

Labels: Bill Russell, pickup basketball, Sports Illustrated, sports psychology

Since I'm not sure what to think of the fact that Joe Dumars signed Kwame Brown to a (potentially) two-year contract, I'm just going to post these old parodies from The Man Show. Dis here Karl Malone...




Note: I could only find these three videos, but I know there were several more. I would be forever grateful to whoever could find the others. (And by "forever" I mean "until about lunchtime.")

Labels: Jimmy Kimmel, Karl Malone, parodies, The Man Show

Originally, I was going to leave this subject alone. After all, it's already been covered by Deadspin, TrueHoop, the Sporting News, the Wall Street Journal, et al. However, my approach of non-responsiveness changed this morning when I read about the feminist uproar brewing over the upcoming Sony video game Fat Princess. The game's premise is to force-feed a previously dainty princess a high-calorie diet -- probably rich in candy, butter and delicious gravy -- in order to make it more difficult to capture her (or rescue her, depending on which team you're on). Upon rescue, princess fatty magically becomes thin again...restoring order to a video game universe in which "fat" is only okay for Italian plumbers.

One writer at the political/feminist blog Shakesville immediately freaked out over the game, sarcastically congratulating Sony with the following vitriol: "I'm positively thrilled to see such unyielding dedication to creating a new generation of fat-hating, heteronormative assholes. It's not often I have the opportunity to congratulate a cutting-edge tech company on such splendiferous retrofuck jackholery. Way to go! The Fat Princess of Shakes Manor salutes you." This well-reasoned argument is then underscored by a photo of the author giving Sony the one-fingered salute. And this is probably going to shock the hell out of you, but the author is -- are you ready for your socks to go flying off? -- an obese woman.

The one thing her witty repartee failed to do is, you know, describe the catastrophic damage that this video game will wreak on fat princesses worldwide. I hate to break this to her, but video games -- even the really good ones -- aren't some sort of all-powerful cultural force. According to Wikipedia, the Grand Theft Auto series has produced nine stand-alone games and sold over 70 million copies worldwide. If something as lame as Fat Princess might create "a new generation of fat-hating, heteronormative assholes," then the GTA games should have already transformed most of us into solitary gangsters who play by our own rules while car-jacking and killing just for kicks. In which case -- BLAM!! -- we should all be dead right now.

But these knee-jerk reactions aren't about making the Earth a better place. Not really. It's about getting offended as quickly and completely as possible. People seem to genuinely enjoy the process of becoming angry and lashing out at any and every slight, whether real or imagined. This is the world we live in, folks. It has become literally impossible to create anything without pissing somebody off. I can't publish The Worsties or let a fan joke about the size of Kobe's laptop without receiving angry emails full of "screw you" this or "you're an assface" that. And all I do is clown on silly stuff that happens within the realm of professional basketball. It's a good thing I don't create video games or shoe ads.

Society spends way too much time telling us what we should and shouldn't do. Do not use in the shower. Do not use while sleeping or unconscious. Do not use near fire. Do not iron clothes while on body. Do not attempt to stop the blade with your hand. Do not drive cars in ocean. This is not underwear; do not attempt to put in pants. And not only have we been given Life's Little Instruction Booklet, we've been given a green light to become filled with unreasonable rage any time the rules are broken.

At what point in human evolution did we lose the ability to make our own decisions? When did it become impossible to differentiate between playful, harmless fantasy and reality?

Which brings me to the subject of Nike's Hyperdunk ad campaign. As you probably already know, this campaign previously included a series of billboards that illustrate two of mankind’s most primal emotions: The fear of being defeated in fierce athletic competition, and the horror of having someone's dangling genitals forcibly rammed into our face. But Nike has pulled the ads because of their obvious homophobic undertones.

Eh...what?!

No, seriously. People think these ads are homophobic. You should read some of the comments at that Hyperdunk campaign link I posted above. Several people claimed that, in response to the perceived offensiveness of the ads, they will never buy a Nike product again. (Although, honestly, I'm willing to bet they weren't buying Nike to begin with.) One commenter said: "This toothless, comfy, hate-mongering would not have survived a relatively conscious basic design class...twenty years ago. Shame!"

You might be tempted to ask, "Are these people serious?" The answer is: Yes, they most certainly are. But the bigger question, for my money, is, "Do they even understand what they're so upset about?" I tend to believe that any person of average intelligence would be able to interpret these ads correctly and realize that they harm no one. You could argue about whether or not they're funny, sure, but whether they're offensive? How? Because a heterosexual male doesn't want to be dunked on and get teabagged at the same time? This presupposes...what exactly? That gay men actively desire for this to happen to them, and therefore portraying it as a negative thing is somehow hurtful to their pro-dunking/teabagging stance? That seems like a stretch to me.

But then again, my perceptions are colored by the fact that I'm a heterosexual male in a hetero-centric world. So I decided to poll a friend of mine who is both gay and plays basketball. My question was simple and to the point: Do you find Nike's Hyperdunk ads to be homophobic? Here is his unedited response: "They don't seem homophobic to me. I could be naïve, but all I see is the guys getting dunked on. I guess they could have included the basket in the pictures and not just the groin to the face."

I know that one gay male basketball player is a relatively small sample population, but you see my point. I have yet to read or hear of one rational argument that has made me think, "You know, these ads could be kind of homophobic if you look at it like this...."

This isn't a new thing, by the way. Back in 2000, Nike pulled an ad that showed Olympic runner Suzy Hamilton escaping a chainsaw-wielding killer. It was an obvious parody of horror movies like Friday the 13th and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, but some feminist groups actually believed that the ad was a gross display of violence against women. So then, like now, Nike gave in.

I don't believe that Nike -- or anyone else -- should blindly give in or be forced to give in to the masses of people who see it as their solemn duty to fight ignorance and injustice with ignorance and injustice. The Hyperdunk ads are not harming gay people. They are not making gay people feel badly about themselves, nor are they making heterosexual people hate gay people any more (or less) than they already did. Watching a man dunk on another man, even if that man is me, will not make me gay. And although I might resent the man who did it, it won't be because of his sexual orientation, but because I don't like getting dunked on and I don't like people I am not currently having sex with ramming their crotch in my face. And that's pretty much where this entire story should have ended.

You know what would help reduce the world's vast supply of homophobia? If people stopped looking for it so hard.

Labels: homophobia, Nike, righteous indignation, video games

The following picture was sent in by Alexis-RS, who said: "Is Kobe Bryant going broke? Investors say "no," but I say "yes" judging by the craptastic nature of his laptop pictured on the NBA.com homepage. Holy Kendrick Perkins is that screen small! To make things funnier, it doesn't even look like it plugs in, so once the battery goes dead we can assume he's going to spend the rest of the flight to Macao belittling his teammates and reading about squirrel-proof birdfeeders in Skymall."


Hm. I'm not sure the laptop is really as small as it appears. I think this is a textbook case of forced perspective, which is the film technique Peter Jackson used in the Lord of the Rings movies to make Gandalf's hat look extra pointy. And although you can't see it, Kobe's laptop is connected to a wire that leads to a small compartment in the hull of the plane where several midgets power it by running on midget-sized hamster wheels. Those same midgets are later crushed into paste and fed to Kobe's dogs. Which sounds cruel and inhumane, I know, until you remember that midgets killed your father.

Labels: fan submissions, Kobe Bryant, midgets

Important note: Despite what you might be thinking, I am not getting paid for this post. I was offered one free product and the opportunity to give some of them away to readers. If I hadn't liked the product, I wouldn't have mentioned it. This is most certainly not the first in a line of product-related posts.

Like many pickup ballers, I recently starting shaving my head. Originally, I simply used an electric razor to release my hair demons about once every other day. Then I was sent a free sample of the Schick Quattro Titanium Trimmer. I figured "What the hell?" and gave it a try. It kind of rocked, actually.

To be honest, I haven't used a "standard" razor for years. I have exceptionally sensitive skin, and shaving with a non-electric razor usually means burns and bumps and annoying little cuts that won't stop bleeding for hours. But the SQTT sliced through my head stubble -- about two days worth of growth -- as efficiently as Ash's chainsaw arm cut through the Evil Dead. Only with, uh, less screaming and blood-spurting. On the first go-around, I didn't even use shaving gel. And although I don't recommend doing that on a regular basis, it did illustrate (for me) the smooth shaving ability of the SQTT.

As with many of today's next generation razors, the SQTT uses a four-blade system. It seems like that's the only way to upgrade shaving technology: Add another blade. How long will it be before our razors have five blades, or 10, or even 20? By the year 2015, shaving with a manual razor will probably be like sticking my face into a wood chipper. But in this case, the four blades were pretty effective; I got a clean, close shave on the top of my head and my face...sans bumps and cuts.

Moreover, the SQTT has a handy little battery-powered trimmer (AAA battery not included) with an adjustable comb so you can trim your beard/goatee to the desired length. You can even manscape with it. Unfortunately (for some of you anyway), as of this writing the SQTT does not come with a back-shaving attachment.

The company that sent me the SQTT has authorized me to give away up to 10 of these bad boys to my readers. So the first 10 of you who submit a piece of Karl Malone-related trivia to the Basketbawful email address will receive a free SQTT. Just be sure to include your snail mail address.

Update! It appears all 10 razors are now spoken for.

Labels: head shaving, manscaping, pickup basketball

Josh Childress flew the Atlanta coop to play in Greece. Andris Biedrins, Carl Landry, Delonte West and Sasha Vujacic are all considering seeking out big Euro contracts. Hell, Jason Kidd has even suggested he might finish his career in Europe.

OH NO! THE SKY IS FALLING!!

No. No, it's not.

Honestly, I think that -- for the moment anyway -- this whole "The NBA is going to start losing all its players to overseas teams" issue is a little overblown. This isn't a new thing, folks. Did you know, for instance, that Kevin McHale almost never played for the Celtics? He nearly went to Europe to play for an Italian team before his rookie season because he felt the Celtics weren't offering him enough money (they weren't). Boston coach Bill Fitch famously said "Let him eat spaghetti," but Kevin ultimately chose to stay in the U.S.

Almost a decade later, Brian Shaw played one season for the Celtics before leaving Beantown to sign with the Italian team Il Messaggero Roma. (He returned a year later and signed a five-year deal with the Celtics, but then tried to renege and return to Italy. The Celtics sued him, won the case, and forced him to return stateside.) Danny Ferry also played for Il Messaggero (rather than play for the Clippers) before signing his infamous 10-year contract with the Cavaliers. And guys like Bob McAdoo and Dominique Wilkins spent some time playing Euro ball at the end of their careers. Robert Parish considered doing the same thing.

Honestly, I won't be truly worried until one of two things happen: We lose a truly big name player in his prime (LeBron, Kobe, D-Wade, or someone of that stature) or a whole bunch of relatively accomplished / borderline All-Star players in a relatively short period (such as, for example, if Brandon Roy, Gerald Wallace, Jose Calderon, Kevin Martin, Leandro Barbosa, Rudy Gay, and Tyson Chandler all signed with European clubs in the same offseason).

Yeah, yeah, yeah...the Euro is worth more than the Dollar, the players wouldn't have to pay taxes, and Globalization is starting to blah blah blah. You know what? I don't care. This just gives NBA players an extra bit of leverage in their contract negotiations. There is still, on average, more money and benefit to playing in The League than anywhere else on planet Earth. The Atlantic Ocean isn't parting for some mass European exodus just yet. Sure, we lost Josh, and we might even lose a Carl (although I doubt it) or a Sasha (still doubt it). But that's it.

Is it a hint of Things To Come? Maybe. Shoot, I'll even upgrade that to "probably." But it's only a hint, and those hints have come and gone for years. So, for the moment, I'm going to hold off on building that wall around the country to keep our NBA players in.

Update! Carson left the following comment on this post: "One thing I don't really see people mentioning is that Childress is going to be the HIGHEST PAID PLAYER in the Euroleague. Yes, Josh Childress -- the sixth man on the eight seed in the East -- is going to be the best compensated player in the entire Euroleague. It's not like they have big money over there to sign away stars to play against their weaker competition. A lot of the teams in Europe don't even make that much money, which is why they have so many sponsors...it's more of a way for corporations to get good PR. They're making a truly lucrative run at anybody who's good (Josh, you're solid but there's a lot of players better than you) in the NBA."

Indeed. According to ESPN, Childress' deal "is the most lucrative current contract in European basketball and the biggest in Euroleague history." And it's worth about $20 million (after taxes) over three years. Good money, no question...but how many really, really good NBA players would that buy? Plus, seeing as how it's the largest Euroleague payout of all time, I don't think you'll see a lot more Euro contracts like it any time in the near future.

And here's another couple important points. First, Childress can opt out after the first two years of the deal. Second, there's no buyout clause in the contract, which means he could decide to walk away...pretty much whenever. And check out these comments: "I signed this deal with the intention of playing with Olympiakos for the duration, but obviously, if an opportunity comes up in the NBA I'm more than willing to have my ears open to it. I'm an NBA player and I think I've proven that. This is a little change-up." Uh huh.

Labels: Bob McAdoo, Brian Shaw, Danny Ferry, Dominque Wilkins, Europe, Italy, Josh Childress, money, Sasha Vujacic

Like I mentioned a few days ago, I've gotten a handful of amusing submissions that I hadn't had time to do anything with. So I figured I'd mash them all together into one big basketbawfully stew...kind of like a nice Hungarian goulash.

First, here's O.J. Mayo getting a little booty love after a very manly dunk on the Hornets in summer league action. [From Caleb.]


Next up is an example of what happens when somebody hijacks a Wikipedia page. See if you can figure out what's what with Tim Duncan's biography. It has since been fixed. You can go here for a larger version. [From Michael.]


Did you know the WNBA keeps track of who's hot and who's not? I presume they're talking about stats and not, uh, other stuff, but still. [From Rich.]


Is Dirk Nowitzki a fan of the movie Men In Black? Because he's got Will Smith's subtle flip-off technique down pat. The question is: What did Chris Kaman do to piss Dirk off? Maybe he's just jealous that Chris gets to play for the Clippers. [From Anne.]


This next one is from Martin, who said: "We know nobody likes the Pacers and the Oklahoma team needs a logo and all. I guess that's the reason the SI team decided to stick Oklahoma season ticket holders story to the Pacers' tab. Or maybe after Bennett stole a whole team, now he will just steal another team's logo."


My buddy Craig from The Association -- a big-time Lakers fan -- was a little, shall we say, displeased when he ran across this t-shirt. "I am constantly haunted by the 2008 NBA Finals. I saw this and other Celtics gear at the Adidas Outlet near my house...IN SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA!! You can use this email as evidence against me after I firebomb the place." That, my friends, is what we call bitterness.


BadDave emailed me this link to a blog post called The Utah Jazz: A Stiff White Retrospective. Funny stuff. The most stunning thing about the post, however, is that I hadn't already written it. To celebrate that post, I submit a Greg Ostertag man love special. (I'm not sure, but I think he might have found the link at Ball Don't Lie. Update! Actually, he found it at TrueHoop.)


And finally, here's a screen capture of the official Web site of NBA officials. [From Stephanie G.]

Labels: Celtic Pride, Chris Kaman, Dirk Nowitzki, fan submissions, Indiana Pacers, man love, O.J. Mayo, referees, Tim Duncan, Wikipedia, WNBA

And now, Part 5 of this year's NBA Worsties. We've gotten through March now. Only three long months and several more reader nominations to go...

Dwyane Wade calls out...Reggie Miller?!: With the Heat sucking and D-Wade clearly not playing up to his pre-injury standards, Reggie suggested during a TNT broadcast that Wade was playing at about 60 percent capacity. This illicited unexpected rage from Pookie, who said: "Tell Reggie to meet me at the gym in Miami and see what percentage I am. We'll go from there. I'm not 100 (%), but I'm not 60." Sure, Dwyane. Because (as I said at the time) going one-on-one against a 40-something retired player whose body looks like a bunch of wire hangers covered in Saran Wrap is going to prove that how exactly?

Jason Kidd opens mouth, inserts foot: After scoring a season-high 21 points against the Kings, Kidd tried to explain why he doesn't score 20 every night: "My brain is wired differently I guess. Scorer's have more of a tunnel vision. Maybe I should get blinders like horses wear and be more of an 'I' guy, in a good way." However, Basketbawful reader flohtingpoint was quick to dispell the myth of Kidd's selfless non-shooting: "Riiiightt...as it stands right now, Jason 'Jumpshot' Kidd has more career three-point attempts (3962) than Mad Max (3931), Glen Rice (3896), The Rifleman (3370) and Dan Majerle (3798). If anything Jason needs to shoot alot LESS. The only person who launched more ill-advised shots over his career than Jason was 'Toine Walker." Update! According to Basketball-Reference.com, Kidd finished the 2007-08 season with 4,025 career three-point attempts...only 239 behind Antoine Walker!

Dirk Nowitzki and Erick Dampier do the Dance of Dumb: If you want to know why I haven't finished the Worsties yet, it's because I spend at least 17 hours of every day rewatching this video.


Kobe hits an old lady in the face with a towel: Sure, it was an accident and everything...but isn't it funny how so many of these "accidents" happen in Kobe's approximate vicinity?


Kobe fans take over Basketbawful for a day: And it will live on in infamy.

Kyle Korver plays -- giggle! -- defense: This was shameful. Truly shameful. But hey, at least he's dating twins...


The Heat's worst weekend ever: The weekend got off to a rough start with a 35-point home loss to the Golden State Warriors. Then, on Saturday night, they lost not once but twice to the Atlanta Hawks in a matter of hours. And I'm not even exaggerating. First, they replayed the last 51.9 seconds of the infamous "dispute game" and lost 114-111 (and since they lost this game 117-111 the first time, that means they lost the same game on two differenct occasions). Then they went out and lost their regularly scheduled game to the Hawks 97-94. So that's three losses in two nights, including one game they got to lose for the second time. That could be considered a four-loss weekend, which has to be some kind of NBA record. Yay team.

Joakim Noah loses touch with reality: I'm going to go ahead and assume that Joakim Noah was suffering from a serious headwound after the Chicago Bulls' 116-109 loss to the Detroit Pistons...at least that would explain his bizarre post-game comments, which were ridiculous in any and every context imaginable: "With our style of play, there's no reason we shouldn't have beaten that team. I think Detroit's a great team, but I still think we are better than them, really. I feel like we're a better team." Ooookay. I guess Joakim didn't learn very much in that extra year at college. No time for class. Too sleepy.

Chris Duhon puts the "Me" in "Team": C-Du was fined and suspended that Bulls loss to the Pistons I mentioned one paragraph ago for missing the team's morning shootaround. Now, you'd probably assume that a roleplayer who's trying desperately to cling to the remains of his NBA career would be at least somewhat humble and apologetic after an incident like this. But you'd be totally wrong. Said Duhon: "It wasn't my fault. I didn't get my wakeup call." Now there's a heaping helping of personal responsibility for you. But it didn't stop there. "I haven't been playing the last six or seven games," said Duhon, conveniently forgetting the 25 minutes he played the previous Friday night against the Celtics. "Ususally, I don't play anyway, so it doesn't have that much of an effect on me." Of course, Kirk Hinrich and Ben Gordan both picked up two fouls in the first six minutes of the Pistons game, and Thabo Sefolosha was still out with a strained left groin. In other words, the Bulls needed Duhon, but Duhon wasn't available. Of course, he was available to fly to North Carolina to watch Saturday night's Duke-North Carolina game, which didn't end until 11 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. And the daylight-saving time changover made the night an hour shorter. Duhon chartered a flight to Detroit, but he still got in pretty late, which, you know, might have made him a little sleepy. Keep in mind, though, it's still not his fault. He didn't get his wakeup call. And he hasn't been playing anyway. So get off his back. (Sidenote: He is going to fit in so well with the Knicks this season...)

Kiss fight!: Who would have seen this coming? I mean, a kiss fight during Washington Wizards television broadcasts? Oh yes. It started when Steve Buckhantz (play-by-play) kissed Phil Chenier (color commentator) on the arena's Kiss Cam during a game, and Phil responded by kissing Steve back during a pre-game segment. Here's the first kiss:


And here's Phil's insideous revenge kiss:


Mark Cuban wages a one-billionaire war on the great Blogging Menace: Cube Steak officially banned "bloggers" from the Mavericks' locker room. And in a move that was more ironic than having 10,000 spoons when all you need to kill Alanis Morissette with is a knife, the announcement was made on his blog. This was, of course, a response to the "Fire Avery Johnson" campaign. A petulant and immature response, but a response nonetheless. And it wasn't the first time Cuban pooped on bloggers. Why does Cuban hate bloggers so much, when he, himself, is a blogger? I can only assume it must be a sign of his own deep-rooted self-loathing. Or, I dunno, maybe he's just a big douche.

John Hollinger's stat wizardry: In his review of the Bulls/Cavs/Sonics trade, Hollinger made it seem as if Cleveland GM Danny Ferry was making off like some kind of cartoon bandit: "This one works, big time. Answer me this: Would you rather have Hughes (12.0 player efficiency rating) or Szczerbiak (16.0)? Brown (8.5) or West (10.1)? Marshall (8.5) or Wallace (12.1)? Gooden (12.8) or Smith (17.4)?"

I thought this assessment was a wee bit bogus, mostly because Hollinger fiddled somewhat with the comparisons. After all, juxtaposing the PER of Shannon Brown and Delonte West didn't seem particularly fair, considering that Brown had appeared - and briefly - in only 15 games while West had played in 35 and gotten more minutes. Furthermore, Marshall was a seldom-used reserve who had made a mere 11 cameo appearances for the Cavs, whereas Ben Wallace was a starter who had played 50 games at a rate of more than 32 minutes per. And wouldn't Wallace versus Drew Gooden had make a better one-for-one comparison anyway? I guess what I'm saying is that, at the time, if felt as though Hollinger arranged the player matchoffs so he could use his PER numbers to support his "Cleveland won this one" argument.

But here's a little post-script to Hollinger's "This one works, big time" declaration. Wally's PER plummetted from 15.7 to 10.3 while Larry Hughes' initially soared from 11.3 to 15.3 before eventually settling at 12.4. Oh, and Drew Gooden's PER went from 12.7 to 17.4 with the Bulls...which is much better than Wallace's 12.4 PER with the Cavs. So, based on these numbers, was Hollinger wrong, big time? Particularly since the move didn't really do much to improve the Cavs (or the Bulls for that matter)? PER is just another number, folks. And like any other stat, it only tells part of a much larger story. Sorry.

Basketbawful (gak) praises (vomit) Kobe Bryant: And it will live on in infamy.

Phoenix Suns bench flees in terror: Shaq goes running after a loose ball, and the Suns bench...well, I'd say they fled in terror like a bunch of little girls, but that would be an unfair insult to little girls everywhere.


Antoine Walker defies logic, refuses buyout: Kevin McHale may be an idiot, but he proved he wasn't stupid enough to pay Antoine Walker's for doing nothing. And 'Toine wasn't happy about it. "Obviously, they're rebuilding, and obviously I'm not in the future plans, so I felt like maybe there was an opportunity for me to leave. They wanted money back that I wasn't willing to give back. It didn't work out that way. We'll just have to play it out, six weeks, and then we'll see what happens in the summer." Walker, who was averaging 8 PPG on 36 percent shooting, was making $8.5 million for the season. He said that the team "low-balled" him, offering a buyout he felt was unreasonable and "ridiculous, actually." The only thing that would be ridiculous would be offering Walker anything more than cab fare and a swift boot to the butt.

The Clippers prove they are who we thought they were: First, they let Sam Cassell bully them into a buyout. Then they replaced Sam-I-Wasn't with...Smush Parker! Wooooow. Basketbawful reader Wild Yams, who drew my attention to the signing, uttered prophetic words when he said: "Are the Clippers trying to get Elton Brand to opt out this summer or something?"

Rafer Alston versus Sasha Vujacic: Near the end of the Rockets 104-92 win over the Los Angeles Lakers -- Houston's 22nd win in a row -- Rafer Alston went all NBA Street on Sasha Vujacic, Sasha hacked him for it, and Rafer responded by sticking a finger in Sasha's mug before getting restrained by a referee. It's kind of a shame that Alston had to transform back into Skip 2 My Lou at the tail end of his best game as a pro. It's also kind of a shame that Vujacic is such a douche.


Timberwolves owner Glen Taylor accuses Kevin Garnett of tanking: Sometimes the best way to draw attention away from your crappy stewardship of the crappy team your crappy GM assembled is to take a cheap shot at your former stuperstar player. That way you're not a bad judge of basketball talent, you're just an idiot. And boy oh boy did Taylor let his stuperosity take center stage when he suggested that Kevin Garnett laid down on the job last season. In responding to a reporter's suggestion that the T-Wolves had tanked last season, Taylor said: "I don't think that. I don't like that so much. I don't like that. It was more like KG tanked it (for missing the final five games of the regular season). I think the other guys still wanted to play. But it sure changed the team and didn't make us (as good)." Now, some people think that experts and fans baby Garnett, and maybe we do...to a degree. But in this case, I'm going to let KG's intensity and work ethic speak for themselves. I mean, Garnett missed only 23 games in 12 seasons as a Timberwolf. Dude straight up brought it.

T.J. Ford freaks the hell out: Looks like the Pacers landed a real "character guy" this summer...


Drew Gooden's ego goes crazy: After a 31-point, 16-rebound game -- Gooden's ninth double-double in the 16 games since he was traded to the Bulls -- Drew was asked whether he could keep it up. Said Gooden: ''Yes, I can. And I will continue to work to get better at it. This is something that's not new to me, but I've got to brush off some of the old tools and put them back into use. Because I have had a couple years [playing with LeBron James] where I was the guy that goes out, works hard and grabs rebounds and becomes a defender with offensive capabilities." In case you need a Gooden-to-English translation, that means playing with LeBron was holding him back, and not that it's easier to put up big numbers when you're on a lousy, lottery-bound team. But Gooden's mouth wasn't finished. Not by a long shot. "I possess the tools. I don't want to sound cocky, but I think I possess everything. I feel like I can pass, block shots, play great defense, play help defense, shoot threes." No, not done yet. There was more. ''I believe that I can do it all. And confidence is the number one factor when it comes to offense. I can score in the post; I can score with my back to the basket, face up.'' You go, Drew. I look forward to watching you win the MVP next season. Look out, NBA! (Sidenote: Gooden had 2 points on 0-for-5 shooting in his very next game.)

Dirk auditions for a broadcasting job: The best part is near the end, when he says "Short bus!" in response to a terrible shot.


Andrew Bogut high-fives himself: One truly is the lonliest number.


Shaq versus Pat Riley: Ever notice how often Shaq always gets in these little Quote Feuds with former coaches and teammates? The latest War of the Words came after Shaq made the following statement about his new home in the Valley of the Sun: "I love playing for this coach and I love playing with these guys. We have professionals who know what to do. No one is asking me to play with Chris Quinn or Ricky Davis. I'm actually on a team again." Of course, these comments only served to depress old Sad Sack Riley. "It's sad that he says those things. We shared so much here, together, for three years, good and bad, 3 1/2 years. I just think it's sad that he's got to do that." Sadder than making Shaq spend his golden years playing alongside Ricky Davis and Mark Blount? I don't think so, Riles. When told of Riley's response, The Big Expletive-slinger said, "I don't give a shit how he interpreted it." After being reminded that the reporters couldn't use that quote because he cussed, Shaq said, "Sure you can. You can quote me, brother. You can put an 's,' then the tic-tac-toe, the 'at' sign and then the other symbols." He may no longer be the MDE, but he is and will always be the MQE (Most Quotable Ever).

Chris Webber wimps out: Why did he finally decide to retire? In Webber's own words: "Rehab is so hard. So monotonous, so boring. I really didn't want to try to rehab and come back this season because I don't think that's possible." And doesn't that statement just sort of epitomize the most frustrating aspect of Webber's career? The idea that there was more there and he simply didn't have the heart and/or strength of will to make it happen. Maybe rehabbing the absolute living hell out of his knee wouldn't have changed anything, but mabye it would have...? But we'll never know. Just like we'll never know whether the 2001-02 Sacramento Kings might have won the title if only Webber wouldn't have gotten a case of the yips during all the close games. Sometimes playing The What If Game can be fun. But as it pertains to Webber and his career, it's just painful. And kind of depressing.

Labels: Antoine Walker, Dwyane Wade, Jason Kidd, Kobe Bryant, Kyle Korver, Mark Cuban, Miami Heat, NBA Worsties, Shaq

Basketbawful reader Jon sent in a link to this old Adidas commercial where Kobe goes one-on-one with a hapless child. Mamba goes after the kid with the kind of pitiless rage I would expect from King Leonidas, slapping his shots halfway to Abu Dhabi and dunking over him. Note that the title to this post is only a joke. Kobe doesn't hate kids. He hates everybody He's a competitor.


Note: I've received a lot of good submissions over the last couple weeks that I haven't had the opportunity to post. I'll probably do a compilation of them soon. And then I'll finish the Worsties, and then I'll cure cancer, and then...man, I need a vacation.

Labels: fan submissions, Kobe Bryant, shoe commercials

Let's see. A fight broke out during a basketball game in Detroit. Bill Laimbeer and Rick Mahorn were prominently involved. Mahorn got ejected. Yup, that sounds about ri...wait, what?! This happened during a WNBA game? You bet your vintage collection of Kobe Bryant Nutella it did.

As Hubie Brown might say, things got a little "chippy" late in the game when the Detroit Shock's Cheryl Ford committed a hard foul on the Los Angeles Sparks' Candace Parker, after which the ladies had to be separated. This was clearly the first mistake, as grappling women should never be separated for any reason. Let them work out their aggression in a natural, healthy manner. But be sure to supply baby oil and a small wading pool first.

One possession later, Parker and Detroit's Plenette Pierson were battling for rebounding position when Parker judo-tossed Plenette to the floor and, in the process, fell on her exceedingly firm and supple backside. Then -- in true Bad Boys fashion -- Pierson walked right into Parker as she was trying to get up...and all hell broke loose.

Parker threw a punch at Pierson right before getting tackled by Detroit's Deanna Nolan. Players and coaches from both teams waded in and it turned into a battle royal. During the scrum, the still very scary Mahorn knocked Lisa Leslie to the ground like a tiny insect. But unlike his playing days -- when his rough and tumble ways earned him the nickname "McFilthy" from Celtics radion broadcaster Johnny Most -- Mahorn did his damage while trying to keep the peace.

"I was trying to protect the whole game, the integrity of the game. The WNBA is very special to me because I have four daughters. I don't even raise my hand to them, and I would never push a woman. This game, I love this game too much." Dear lord...Rick Mahorn spawned?! Man, if I was dating someone and she took me home to meet her dad, and her dad was Rick Mahorn, I'd quickly call 911, knock myself unconscious, and let the paramedics sort things out. I would probably also wet myself at some point. But I digress.

Detroit coach Bill Laimbeer insisted that this little case of domestic violence was simply his attempt to make things better. "Rick Mahorn is known as a peacemaker, from even the brawl we had here with Indiana. He went out there to get people off the pile, and to get people to stop the confrontation. That's who he is, that's what he does." Yeah, right. What guy hasn't dreamed about wading into a pile of struggling, heaving women?

At least one person took exception to Mahorn's peace-keeping tactics: DeLisha Milton-Jones shoved and punched Mahorn after he unintentionally thrashed Leslie. She was ejected, along with Mahorn, Parker and Pierson.

To put a dollop of whipped poop on this crap sundae, Ford -- who sort of helped precipitate the whole thing with that hard foul on Parker -- sprained her right knee while trying to restrain Pierson, and left the floor Dwyane Wade style (i.e., in a wheelchair).

Here's the video. Watch it fast. I'm sure the YouTube Nazis will be taking it down shortly.

Labels: Candace Parker, Detroit Shock, fights, Los Angeles Sparks, WNBA

Back in the day, when the "Internet" was a subscription to America Online and "blogging" was complaining to a group of twenty people in the alt.basketball.sucks newsgroup, the Basketbawful crew had a vision. And a VHS camcorder and a ridiculous amount of free time.

And now, for your Oscar consideration: "Basketball's Greatest Rivalries": An insightful and thought-provoking narrative on the pervasive influence of corporate sports marketing, and it's trickle-down effect on the psyche of America's youth. The "Lamont" character represents the children of tomorrow. The "Boris" character is just kind of a dick. Adjust your speakers, the audio isn't the best.
BGR made a few rounds on public access (the YouTube of 1995) and drew enough attention to spawn a slightly more ambitious (and much more criminous) sequel. This time Josh squares off against a returning Boris, who has become notorious for his hatred of talentless ball players and breakfast cereals.

The response to BGR was enough to encourage us to move into motion pictures. That is, until we actually tried it. In true Joel-Schumacher-Batman-And-Robin fashion, it killed the Basketbawful series dead for many years. Here is the movie trailer we shot, starring Josh and a thinner and more asthmatic Mr. P, and a slew of ad-libbing strangers. (Note: never ask strangers to ad-lib anything. Ever.)

Labels: Breakfast Cereals, licensed products, shady deals, Videos, WTF

You've gotta love this Mountain Dew Code Red commercial sent in by Basketbawful reader AK Dave. It kind of reminds me of the time I blocked the hell out of a 10-year-old's layup attempt during a pickup game. From now on, I will refer to all merciless blocked shots against unsuspecting and/or inferior opponents as "Code Reds."

Labels: commercials, fan submissions, Mountain Dew

Donyell Marshall's wardrobe malfunction: Marshall amused his teammates and horrified fans in attendance when he took off both his warm-up shirt and jersey while subbing into a game. Good times. Now watch Lebron go absolutely bonkers over it. I mean, sweet breakdancing Jesus, he was laughing so hard you'd think that Marshall had just gotten a pie in the face and then slipped comically on a banana peel.


Reggie Miller invents a word: On January 31, 2008, Miller coined a term during the third quarter of the Suns' 84-81 loss to the Spurs. After Manu Ginobili dropped Raja Bell with a cruel nutshot, Miller said: "It looks like it's an inadvertent...inadvertent shot...to the man...region." Marv Albert quickly jumped in and tried to amend Reggie's totally sweet new term to the much more boring "groin area." What a wet blanket.

Kobe Bryant has a career lowlight: Mamba scored 39 points (a team high) and grabbed 10 boards (another team high) in a 90-89 loss to the Detroit Pistons. Brilliant game, right? Sure, if you overlook his severe case of fumbleitis. For much of the game, Kobe handled the rock like somebody had replaced his hands with two honeybaked hams. He coughed up the ball a career-high 11 times -- 7 of which came in the first half -- on his way to his first career triple bumble. He also unleashed some of his trademark "subtle" criticism of his teammates: "What are you going to do when guys are open? If I catch the ball, what am I going to do, go one on three? We made the right play, we just didn't complete it." I ran this one through the Kobe-to-English translator in my Batcomputer, and apparently that comment means, "Hey, not my fault. Go talk to Lamar. He airballed the final shot." But this also begs the question: When has Kobe ever shied away from going one-on-three?

Christmas comes early for the Lakers: You know that sinking feeling you get in your stomach the moment you you realize something disastrous just happened? Well, we had that feeling for a full weekend after the Grizzlies traded Pau Gasol to the Lakers for Kwame Brown. Did Grizzlies GM Chris Wallace accidentally click "accept" in his Yahoo Fantasy NBA Trade Manager? The world may never know. Needless to say, the Lakers made off like bandits, but what did Memphis gain from this? An expiring contract, a backup point guard, a slow-footed low-jumping center, and two bench players to be named later. Thank goodness that Kevin McHale saved him by handing over O.J. Mayo (and, er, Antoine Walker...).

The Phoenix Suns trade machine: With the best record in the Western Conference, the Suns become a statistic in the tsunami of 2007-08 panic trades, getting The Big No-Longer-Sherrif-in-Maricopa-County Shaq for Marcus Banks's bloated contract and an inexplicably disgruntled Shawn Marion. Result: limping into the playoffs as a 6th seed and a quick first round exit. [Submitted and written by anacondahl.]

The trade didn't quite work out how Kerr and the Kool-Aid drinking faithful (myself included) had hoped. Instead of finally slipping on that elusive championship ring, the Suns were bounced in the first round by you guessed it, the Spurs, and are now left with the lyrical stylings and massive contract of the one and only Big Cactus. [Submitted and written by Mark of Black Jesus Disciples.]

For knifing fans of the game by trying to become Spurs II. [Submitted and written by jaz.]

And finally, from Brandon of Ballerblogger: "If it works, I'm a genius," Kerr said. "If it doesn't, I'm a moron, I guess." - Steve Kerr

Bonus quote: "In my experience, it takes two or three years to get a group of guys together that could possibly get it done,” O’Neal said. “When I was in Orlando, we had a group of guys who couldn’t get it there, and we added the piece in Horace Grant and it took us over the top. I think I was the piece that they (the Suns) were missing. Next year, we’ll have a full season, and things look pretty good."

"Over the top?" Is he referring to his win over the Birmingham Baron Bulls in 1995? Or the toal humiliation he suffered at the hands of Hakeem Olajuwon in the next round?

Extra info that you might find interesting: Kerr and company brought O'Neal in to be a force defensively. Tim Duncan averaged 25 points, 14 rebounds, 3 assists, 2 blocks, and shot 50% from the floor in San Antonio's 4-1 first round victory.

Shaq's First Round Stats: 15 points, 9 rebounds, 1 assist, 3 blocks, 44% from the field, 50% from the free throw line. Marion's #'s against San Antonio in 2006-2007: 16 points, 11 rebounds, 1 assist, 2 blocks, 52% from the field, 47% from the 3-point line, 71% from the free throw line.

And let's not forget that O'Neal has two years ($40 million) left on his contract, while Marion's deal expires after the coming season. The Matrix's deal will either come off the books and Miami will have $17 million in cap space. Or they'll trade his expiring contract for young talent.

Update! Shawn Marion's wish is granted: Despite the fact that he was the highest paid player on a team that included both Steve Nash and Amare Stoudemire and was a legitimate championship contender, Shawn Marion wanted out, out, out. Despite being the team's biggest money maker and second-leading shot getter, Shawn felt unloved and disrespected by Robert Sarver, Mike D'Antoni, his teammates, the ballboys, fans and the media. Did I miss anybody? Oh yeah, he didn't get the endorsements he deserved, either. The previous season, during an interview for ESPN the Magazine, he was asked if he'd rather be an MVP candidate and a 30-point scorer on a lesser team than hooping it up alongside Nash and Stoudemire. Here's what he said: "Wow, that's interesting. I've never been asked that. That would be an interesting situation to be in, to really show people what I can do. [Pause] But we'd be in the playoffs, right?"

Then, before the next season could even start, apparently angered by hearing his name mentioned in trade rumors, Marion demanded a one-way ticket out of The Valley of the Sun...even suggesting a deal with the hated Lakers. And this is what the drama king had to say: "Sometimes, it's just time, and it's time to go. It's been like a nightmare. It hurts me making this phone call. It's hurting me in my stomach. I'll do what I've got to do. I'm a professional. I'm not bitter. I love the fans but I've got to take care of me."

Nothing happened at the time; Marion shut his mouth and played, and Suns fans watched and waited for the inevitable move. And then it came: Shaq arrived in Phoenix and Marion was shipped to Miami to play for what would end up being a 15-win team. He ended up averaging 14 PPG and 11 RPG in 29 games with Miami before shutting it down for the season due to Pat Riley wanting his team to tank a cryptic back ailment. And now it looks like he'll be on the move again, with the greatest liklihood being that -- if he is moved -- he'll wind up playing for a non-contender and performing well below his ceiling with the Suns. Congratulations, Shawn. I hope the weather is nice in NBA Hell.

Isiah continues to lose his grip on reality, Part 17: With his team squatting on a 14-35 record -- the fourth-worst mark in the league -- and in the midst of a seven-game losing streak, the Baby-faced Assassin claims the Knicks are improving. "You can say we're not getting better because we haven't won games, but I think over the last couple of weeks we have gotten better as a basketball team." And that, my friends, is what we like to call denial.

T-Mac's All-Star Game hooky: The man simply did not want to play.

Allen Iverson waxes poetic regarding his ink: In an interview about his tattoos, The Answer said, "I put shit on my body that means something to me." He puts shit on his body?

Brad Miller versus Brian Cardinal: The two former Boilermaker teammates face each other on the court. Hilarity ensues.

Devean George blocks Mark Cuban's cock: This was something nobody could have seen coming. The Mavericks pull off a blockbuster trade for prodigal son Jason Kidd, only to have the deal blocked by one Devean Jamar George. George had a "virtual no-trade clause" that allowed him to reject the trade because he's on a one-year contract and would lose his "Early Bird" rights. That's a stipulation that would allow Dallas -- and only Dallas -- to go over the salary cap to sign him. Basically, it would maximize his money should Mark Cuban decide, after the season, that he wants to go balls out to sign George to another, more lucrative contract. Yeah. Not gonna happen. But he may get signed by the Celtics?! Because, yeah, he's the next best thing to James Posey...

D-Wade has skillz (but not really): The NBA All-Star Skills Challenge turned into a somewhat exciting battle of one-upsmanship between two emerging superstar point guards, with Deron Williams setting a new even record (25.5 seconds) to upset Chris Paul in the finals. However, Jason Kidd and Dwyane Wade just embarrassed themselves. Kidd's woeful lack of shooting touch was on display when he clunked all five three-point attempts and got tossed after round one with a time of 39.7 seconds. Wade, though...Wade had a full-on ego-ectomy. After electing not to even practice the course, the two-time defending Skills Competition champion lost his dribble out of bounds, botched four straight jumpers before just giving up and flinging the fifth at the hoop, and then missed two layups before ending the round with a score of 53.9 seconds...a time even Stephen Hawking could have beaten. [Nominated by dumbgenius.]

Steve Nash doesn't give a @#$%&! about the three-point contest: Nash admitted before the Three-Point Shootout that the only reason he was taking part in the event was because the Collective Bargaining Agreement says he has to. (Said Nash: "They hold me to it every year.") So naturally he went out and performed like a man who didn't care and wanted it to all be over as quickly as possible, hitting only eight of 25 shots and scoring a lowly nine points. Maybe that'll teach David Stern not to force unwilling former MVPs to compete in meaningless contests they couldn't care less about.

Dirk gives a @#$%&! about it, but fails: He was a late addition to the Three-point Shootout because of Kobe's tender mangina sore pinkie finger...but Dirk was shooting 29 percent from three at the time. So why'd they add him? Star power, baby! But not quite enough. He failed early and often.

Reggie Miller says "titty" on national TV: Oh yes he did.


The Knicks redefine "team unity": During a timeout, Zach Randolph threw a cup of water at Nate Robinson. Nate then threw a towel at Zach. In other words, it was just another night at the office for Team Dysfunction. Rather than disciplining his players, coach Isiah Thomas praised their "feistiness" and "nastiness," which is kind of like praising your crazy ex-girlfriend's "passion" after she burns down your apartment building. Amazingly, the Knicks transformed their malaise into a 113-100 overtime win, proving that, at least once in a while, insanity works. Reactions below. [Nominated by karma.]


Danny Ferry's "blockbuster" trade: I'm pretty sure this trade was not what LeBron James had in mind when he asked for more help. Kobe threw a hissy fit and got Pau Gasol, while LeBron played the good soldier and got Ben Wallace, Joe Smith, Wally Szczerbiak, and Delonte West. Doesn't give King James much of an incentive to play nice next time, does it? I've heard that the deal was a "win now" move for Danny Ferry and the Cavs. Win now? In the D-League, maybe.

John Paxson's "blockbuster" trade: Well, he got rid of Ben Wallace...for Larry Hughes. Oh dear God.

Greg Oden's hair adventure: In a turn of events only slightly less devastating than his season-ending knee surgery, Greg Oden now has gets a frohawk. Or maybe the frohawk has him. I'm hoping Steve Blake follows suit and sports a Red Rooster.

Candace Parker's career move: Candace Parker announces that she will leave college early to play in the WNBA! So she should be making six figures for, oh, about five seasons. I hope she invests wisely.

Anthony Parker praises the Knicks: He had some...interesting things to say after his team lost to the Knicks: "I don't think you can look at their record and say, 'Oh, it’s a bad team.' I think they’'e shown they can go into D.C. and get a win. They are capable of going into Philly and getting beaten pretty badly. They've got a lot of talent and a lot of options. I think they played well tonight." I don't know about you, but I can look at a 17-win team and say TThat's a bad team." I can even say, "They're a very bad team." In fact, I can say "They're a crap-coated poopsicle" and not feel as though I've overstated things.

The worst basketball possession of all time: Thank you, Zach Randolph. [Nominated by pretty much everybody, link from sun devil.] Update! It has been suggested that I undersold this entry. So let me recap it for you:

1. Randolph, New York's titular big man, receives the ball outside of the three-point line. This is the point where you would expect ball rotation...from any team not called "The Knicks."

2. He attempts to break down his defender by dribbling the hell out of the ball, sort of like Isiah Thomas circa 1989, only without the mad handles. I promise you that a small piece of Hubie Brown's soul died that night.

3. He totally loses the rock like a retarded child trying to use the freestyle control on NBA Live during a seizure and has to run almost out to halfcourt to retrieve it. For the record, this is what happened to me back when I was using Austin Croshere (then with the Pacers) while playing NBA Live 2004. It's like the programmers thought Croshere was born with rusty coat hangers for hands.

4. Then, instead of passing the ball to a teammate, he shambles to the arc and launches an airball...with seven seconds left on the shot clock!

The best part is when the camera pans to Isiah, who looks about ready to choke a bitch. Can you imagine what would have happened to Scott Hastings if he'd ever pulled something like that when he was on those Bad Boy Pistons teams? I promise you he'd still be digging atomic wedgie out of his butt crack.


More personnel problems for the Pacers, Part I: A woman was allegedly raped at Marquis Daniels' home during a "small gathering." According to the police, Daniels is not a suspect. Said Daniels: "I don't know what happened. I wasn't involved." He wasn't involved in a small gathering held at his own house? What, did a roving band of criminals break in and decide to throw a rape party? I doubt it. Brawls, shootings, more shootings, mascot assault and battery...am I the only person who's tired of seeing random Pacers in the Indianapolis police blotter? Or am I the last Pacers fan alive? Anyone out there? Anyone? Bueller?

The Spurs' first quarter explosion: On February 25, 2008, the defending champs scored five points -- five points!! -- in the first quarter, setting new franchise lows in points, field goals made (1-for-17), and field goal percentage (6) in a single 12-minute session. Of course, they were playing the Atlanta Hawks, so they won anyway.

Ron Artest gets quote-tastic: Regarding a proposed trade to the Denver Nuggets that fell through, Ron-Ron said: "They were trying to get government cheese, and I'm Kraft." Awesome.

Pat Riley gets quote-tastic: The Heat end an 11-game losing streak and Riles gives us a classic quote: "I feel like a mosquito in a nudist colony. I know what to do. I just don’t know where to start." And I feel like a dog in a backyard trying to decide whether or not to eat my own poop.

More personnel problems for the Pacers, Part II: According to the AP game recap, "Pacers F Shawne Williams (personal reasons) left at halftime and didn’t return." Well, here are those reasons: "A man wanted for murder in Memphis, Tenn., was arrested Wednesday night after leaving the home of Indiana Pacers forward Shawne Williams on the Northeastside, according to Indianapolis metropolitan police." It doesn't get much more "personal" than harboring a murdering fugitive from justice, does it. For his part, Williams said, "I feel like I let my organization (and) my teammates down, along with the Simon brothers (team owners Mel and Herb) and my family." Williams also said that he "wasn't very close" with Rollins, and would be more careful in the future. Mind you, this incident came only a few days after a woman was allegedly raped at Marquis Daniels' home (though not by Daniels) during a "small gathering." Man, the Pacers really need to start making better friends.

'Toine's "passport problems": Basketbawful reader Jochem de Graas was quick to pick up on the rather laughable pretext for Employee #8's absence from the Timberwolve's matchup against the Raptors: "The reason Antoine Walker didn't play last night: Minnesota forward Antoine Walker didn't travel to Toronto because of what Wittman called 'a passport problem.' On the bottom under game notes. That's more creative then flu-like symptons." True enough, Jochem. If the NBA ever expands to Europe, I predict that "passport problems" will become the new "flu-like symptoms." You heard it here first, folks.

Labels: blockbuster trades, Isiah Thomas, Kobe Bryant, NBA Worsties, Pat Riley, Phoenix Suns, Shaq

I know, I know...I still have to finish the NBA Worsties. I originally intended to get through them by today. But, sadly, my Clark Kent job has been kicking my butt this week. So here's my lazy Friday offering: Some of YouTube videos of blown dunks. Let's begin with an Einsteinian edit of Chris Andersen's infamous ego-ectomy at the 2004 NBA Slam Dunk Contest.


Here's a Vinsanity Classic: Watch as Half-Man, Half-A-Season bones an off-the-backboard alley-oop in his college days.


Now watch in wide-eyed amusement as Tony Parker gets his dunk sent back by the rim. I imagine this is sort of how things go at home when he asks Eva for a little somethin' somethin'.


Think that was bad? Then watch Kobe blow two consecutive dunks...during an exhibition. If only there had been an Aston Martin in the way. A wag of the fingers goes to the idiot fans in attendence, who chant his name instead of mocking him the way he deserved.


Here's a fun one: Former slam dunk champ Nate Robinson discovers that it's harder to flush the ball over Richard Jefferson than over Spud Webb.


This is my all-time favorite missed dunk, even though it was totally staged for the purposes of selling delicious carbonated beverages. To this day, whenever we see a missed dunk, me and Statbuster say to each other, "Grant Hill drinks Sprite..."


And finally, the missed dunk that inspired this post, as sent in by Mister P. The best part is how the kid comes up short after jumping on a trampoline and then throws the ball at the hoop. White Man's Disease indeed.

Labels: Chris "The Birdman" Andersen, Grant Hill, Kobe Bryant, missed dunks, Nate Robinson, Tony Parker, Vince Carter

This is part 3 of our ongoing Worsties coverage. It runs through the end of last January. More parts to follow.

Isiah continues to lose grip on reality, Part I: A day after 2007 gave way to 2008, Isiah Thomas had this to say about his godawful team: "I believe that one day we will win a championship here. And as I sit here and I say it today, I know people will laugh even more at me, but I'm hell bent on getting this accomplished and making sure that we get it done. And I'm not leaving until we get it done." Emboldened by their coaches strong words, the Knicks promptly went out and got blown out at home by the Sacramento Kings (13-18), who were without Kevin Martin, Ron Artest, and Mike Bibby. After the game, Thomas altered his stance ever so slightly: "I don't necessarily just want to win a championship. I want to leave something that's going to stand for a long time. I want to leave a legacy, I want to leave tradition. I want to leave an imprint, a blueprint in terms of how people play, and how they coach and how they respond when they put on the Knick uniform. And I want to leave what I left in Detroit. Every person that walks through that door as a Piston, when they put on that uniform, there's a certain pride that they carry. And I want to put that here and I want to leave that here in New York. I want to leave a championship legacy." Seriously, I know people who got put in padded cells for less crazy than this.

Knicks try to stifle "Fire Isiah" movement: A 22-year-old college student was arrested outside Madison Square Garden for selling t-shirts that said, "Don't Hate The Player Or The Game. Hate The Coach." The man in question, one Ivan Cash, thinks the arrest was meant "to put a lid on all the demands by fans for a new coach.'' No kidding? erhaps we should just tattoo "Duh" on his head and get it over with.

Scottie Pippen requests head coaching position (world laughs): During the 2006-07 seasons, Pippen wanted to come back and play in the NBA, even going so far as to say, "The fans who understand the game, the GMs and coaches, I think they'd rather have a Scottie than a Michael [Jordan]. Because I'm an all-around player. Coaches would rather have a Scottie-type player than a Michael. I was an all-around player. I made people around me better." Surprisingly enough, nobody -- and I mean nobody -- was interested in his services. In 2008, Pip decided he wanted to coach the Bulls. "What's my disadvantage? No NBA coaching experience? [Scott] Skiles' record with the Bulls wasn't that great. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to do what you've done your whole life. I've played basketball, run teams and won. They didn't put me at point guard because I could dribble good. They put me there because I could run a team. I wasn't the best dribbler, the best shooter. I wasn't a point guard. But I knew how to run a team." Actually, I seem to remember guys like John Paxson, B.J. Armstrong, Ron Harper, and even Steve Kerr playing point for the Bulls back then, but whatever. Pippen continued: "With a guy [Jordan] who loved to touch it and shoot all the time, I was able to keep him under control. That didn't come from the bench, it came from making the right decisions. You try to make the game fun for everyone and then we were able to find Mike. The games I felt he was getting off too much, I'd find a way to get other guys off. And then guys weren't running at him all the time and he could take off in the right place." Uh, yeah. I don't really want to hear about Pip getting other players off. Beyond that, his assertion that it was he, and not Phil Jackson or Jordan himself, that reigned Jordan in is patently ridiculous. As is most of everything else Pippen is saying these days. Particularly when you consider that, right after announcing he wanted to coach the Bulls, he started ripping into the players. On Tyrus Thomas: "He doesn't know how to play the game. He's great from the neck down." On Ben Wallace: "You don't pay a rebounder $15 million. OK, they did. He doesn't know the game like Dennis Rodman did." On Kirk Hinrich: "He's not that talented...you can't have midgets running your backcourt." On Luol Deng: "he's trying to show 28, 29 teams what he's about instead of going out and playing." On Andres Nocioni: "He's turning into Rasheed Wallace with the kinds of things he does on floor." I don't care about his six championships or his place in the 50 Greatest NBA Players. He's an idiot if he thinks talk like that is going to land him a head coaching job anywhere in the NBA, let alone for the Bulls. Does he really think the players would listen to him after he blasted them in the press like that? Ben Gordon sure wasn't listening. "I don't really care what Scottie has to say. Everybody's entitled to their own opinion, but it doesn't have anything to do with anything."

Chauncey Billups gives us a sign of things to come: "Mr. Big Shot" missed three freethrows in the fourth quarter of the Piston's 92-85 loss to the Celtics. He also missed a critical three-pointer in the closing minutes that could have given his team the lead (he was 3-for-9 from three-point range for the game). Then, rather than giving the Celtics credit afterward, he tried to diminish the impact of their victory. "They're a little more happy than we were when we won our game at their place. It was just a regular game for us with two good teams playing. They were kind of playing like it was the Super Bowl. There was probably a little more at stake for them and their psyche than it was for us." And see, that's why the Pistons have failed to make it back to the NBA Finals the last few years. That arrogant, lackadaisical makes for great soundbytes...and disappointing playoff exits.

The Suns' Achilles' heel revealed by...us: Frustrated by the Suns' relative underperformance, I wrote a letter to them to please stop sucking. In that letter, I disclosed that they were, by far, the worst rebounding team in the league. In retrospect, I wish I hadn't written this letter. I'm not saying Steve Kerr read it or anything, but if he did, it's the kind of thing that could push a GM into making a panic trade...

Pat Riley starts eyeballing the "Quit" button: Even as the Heat lose their ninth game in a row and fall to 8-28, rumors start circulating that Riles might retire after this season. Somewhere, Stan Van Gundy laughs in equal parts delight and bitterness.

Isiah continues to lose grip on reality, Part II: The NBA's walking punchline continued to deliver. A few days after stating his intent to win a championship in New York, he was quoted in the New York Daily News as giving himself "two votes of confidence" in his dual role as the Knicks coach and general manager. ''There could be smarter people [than me], but in terms of determination and passion to make it right, I know I'm not going to find anybody [better] out there. I am determined to fix this and make it right.'' He then basically conceded that this season sucks big time, but that ''...you stick around long enough, it happens. You just have to fight your way through it. Through these tough times, you still have to set the example and be the leader. Because there's a locker room full of men looking for direction, and my job is to provide that.'' Isiah then went out and provided that example by coaching the Knicks to yet another home loss in which he got ejected for (possibly) making contact with an official. What terrible crime against humanity compelled Isiah to rush out onto the floor and get himself tossed? He felt Yao Ming should have been called for a three-second violation. Way to choose your battles there, Isiah.

Gordan Giricek earns does not earn respect: After getting traded away from the Jazz, Giricek announces that he was not respected "as a man." He then goes out and averages 3.3 PPG on 26 percent shooting in his first several games with his new team, the Sixers, who suddenly realize, "Wait, we traded Kyle Korver for this guy?!"

Saint Louis Billikens remind me why I hate college basketball: I'm not a big fan of college basketball (unless it's my alma mater or March Madness), but I couldn't not mention this travesty: The Billikens set a modern Division I record for fewest points in a game with 20. Saint Louis went zero for their first nine shot attempts. At one point, they missed 23 consecutive shots and finished 7-for-48 (14.6 percent) from the field, including 1-for-19 from 3-point range. They had scored only 7 points by halftime, a performance that made their 13-point second half look positively scintillating. What does a coach even say to his team after a performance so historically dreadful? Well, Rick Majerus, the Billikens' coach, noted after the game that this was his first year with Saint Louis and that he did not recruit the team. "It's like being a stepparent. I didn't pick them. They didn't pick me." Wow. Feel the love.

Update! Basketbawful reader deej pointed out that our boy Larry Hughes was a Billiken, and Johnny Drama provided this wonderful and related link. Turns out the Billikens were, in a way, paying tribute to their most famous son.

The Dark Lord is stunned as it snows in hell: Seriously.

The inmates start running the asylum in Chicago: First, Joakim Noah screamed at assistant coach Ron Adams at practice, after which interim head coach Jim Boylan suspended Noah for one game for his behavior. Then a cabal of Bulls players -- led by Ben "I am killing this team with my huge contract and lousy play" Wallace and Adrian "He's still on this team?" Griffin -- vote to suspend Noah for an additional game. Stunningly, Chicago's coaching staff and management supported this move. Bulls GM John Paxson appeared on the Mike North Morning Show on WSCR-AM (670), and said that everyone in the Bulls' organization, including team chairman Jerry Reinsdorf, thought that the players' group decision to bench Noah was ''outstanding.'' Mind you, these were the same players who tuned out and quit on Scott Skiles, leading to the "coach who turned things around" getting fired on freakin' Christmas eve.

JamesOn Curry decides the entire world is his bathroom: The Bulls rookie, best known for a gratuitous capital O in his first name, added a big P to his arsenal of extraneous letters last night. Curry, who was serving a stint with the Iowa Energy of the NBA Developmental League, was urinating in an alley near the Hampton Inn in Boise, Iowa, when he was spotted by a police officer. As the officer approached in his patrol car, Curry saw him and started to walk away (only after holstering his boomstick, one hopes). The officer turned his emergency lights on and Curry bolted. He went into the Hampton Inn and was stopped by a locked door (d'oh!). Curry was then taken into custody and charged with misdemeanor counts of urinating in public, resisting arrest, and being a damned fool. The biggest tragedy to come out of this is that Curry -- due to suspension -- was forced to miss the Zooperstars performance during halftime of the Energy's next game against the Austin Toros.

Lakers fans turn on Kwame Brown: During L.A.'s 106-98 loss to the Suns, Lakers fans played The Giant Falling Anvil to Kwame Brown's Wile E. Coyote, booing him with a pitiless rage that would make even Hannibal Lecter a little uneasy. Kwame played so badly -- 3-for-8 shooting, two blown layups, one missed dunk, and 7 turnovers -- that one wonders whether he has the manual dexterity necessary to accomplish even the simplest of tasks, like using a remote control or unwrapping a piece of gum. Update! Basketbawful reader dunpizzle provided some video.


And it happened again.


More Knicks drama unfolds: Former Knicks coach Larry Brown revealed that management had spies "throughout the arena" to keep in eye on him. As a result, he never felt fully comfortable viewing Internet porn in his office. I mean, he still did it and everything, but it wasn't nearly as satisfying as it could have been.

Shaq's wallet fuels our economy: Thanks to his ongoing divorce issues, the press gives us an insider's view of The Big Spender's monthly expenditures: $1,500 for cable TV, $110,000 for vacations, $17,000 for clothing, $26,500 for babysitting, and $23,000 at gas stations. Man, I need to quit my job and get hired on as Shaq's nanny. That has "hit sitcom" written all over it.

Tony Parker's dark secret revealed: Eva Longoria finally admitted to something that everyone who follows the NBA already knew. No, not that Tony Parker has a very small penis (although that's true too). The dude totally fakes fouls and injuries. Gee, I'm so very shocked. Remember in last year's playoffs when Parker obliterated Steve Nash's nose with his bulbous head? I mean, Nash's poor beak freaking exploded, yet he just stood there and took it like a man while Parker was writhing around on the court in totally bogus agony.

Magic Johnson makes bold (read that "stupid") prediction: The man who gave us harmonism and fundamativity has now offered up the following insane prognostication: The New York Knicks (who were at that time 14-31) were going to make the playoffs. In fact, Johnson said, "I think that they’re going to be a tough eight or seven seed, too." Why would Magic think something so, you know, stupid? "Because you can see that they’ve turned the corner. Now everybody knows their roles, their minutes. I watch every game." Well, there you have it. Magic watches every Knicks game. No wonder he's lost his damn mind.

Chris Webber returns (waaaah waaaah waaaaaaaah): [The following was submitted and written by Justin from Birdmonster.] Warrior fans have a long, hate-flavored memory. And while I will always have a special place in my charcoaled soul for Mike Dunleavy, Todd Fuller, and the unforgettable Uwe Blab, only Chris Webber had the ability to pull his shorts past his bionic knees and crap all over our faces twice.

A brief history: Webber famously forced a trade after his first season in the Bay, a trade which netted the Warriors the unstoppable manbeast known as Tom Gugliotta. C-Webb would become a perennial all star and the cornerstone of those enjoyable turn of the millennium Sacramento teams while Tom Guglitta would earn the nickname "The Grub."

Then, last season, right before the Shaq & Pau trades, our lovable Warriors signed Webber after more than a decade of wear and tear. Warriors fans enjoyed the hallucination that Webber, with his smooth passing and crafty old-man-game, could be a valuable piece in Don Nelson's ever fluid line-up. I know I talked myself into it.

Then I saw him play.

It was a tragedy.

Webber played a staggering nine games and averaged 3.9 points and 3.6 rebounds a game before his android joints rusted. While Warrior fans begged to see us some Brandan Wright, C-Webb got 14 minutes a night to bog down the Warriors offense and make a defense built on scrappiness into one built on crappy-ness. I was actually upset he was taking minutes from Austin Croshere.

So thanks CWebb. We'll let you know when that statue outside Oracle is up.

Labels: Chauncy Billups, Chris Webber, Isiah Thomas, Magic Johnson, NBA Worsties, New York Knicks, Phoenix Suns, Scottie Pippen, Tony Parker

I had a few things to say about the (horrible/ridiculous/hilarious) Marcus Camby trade over at Deadspin. So if you want to know what I think and enjoy gratuitous Star Wars references, go read it.

In the meantime, enjoy this little gaffe committed by the Chicago Tribune (via ChicagoSports.com). Oh, and thank Basketbawful reader Frank for catching it and sending in the picture...because it has since been corrected.

Labels: Chicago Tribune, Denver Nuggets, dumb trades, Los Angeles Clippers, Marcus Camby

Note: This is not a picture of the man who schooled me in the following story. He was much bigger and stronger. Much more impressive. Please believe me.

In pickup ball, as in life, experience is something you greatly underestimate...when you don't have it. That's why younger players tend to come across as arrogant cocksmiths on the court. I can't tell you how many times some strutting teenager has challenged me to one-on-one with that "I'm gonna kick the old guy's ass" look on his face only to get sent away with his tail between his legs.

But, once upon a time, I was that arrogant kid. And here's how I learned my lesson.

I was a pretty good player in high school, although I never tried out for the varsity team. I got quite a bit better during my freshman year at college, owing mostly to the relatively high level of competition I was facing at the co-recreational gym and in the dorm intramural leagues. See, I went to a Big Ten university, and many of the ballers I played with and against were very good high school players who weren't quite good enough to get a scholarship at a Division I college. There's no better way to hone your skills than against people who are as good or better than you.

I returned to my hometown that summer full of piss and vinegar. I immediately joined a 24-hour health club where all the current and returning varsity players got their game on. Occasionally, there were full-court games, but the big thing at that time was to go at it one-on-one. That's how people wanted to prove themselves. That's how bragging rights were won.

And I never lost a single one-on-one game at that court that summer.

Boy oh boy did I get cocky. I started talking some trash and doing little things to embarrass my opponents, like cleanly blocking a shot, recovering it, and then giving it back to the guy. There was an older black gentleman who used to sit on the bleachers, watching and heckling and handing out nicknames, and he used to call me "Disaster Master" or "Master of Disaster." He would howl and laugh at the guys I was playing against, and I loved it.

The highlight came when I beat one of the former varsity players I had graduated with -- a guy I really didn't like -- in 14 straight games of 21. He was determined to keep playing until he won one, but I finally told him, "Forget it, you're never gonna beat me" and walked off the court.

So, yeah, I was pretty full of myself.

One night I was invited to dinner with my girlfriend's family and the subject of my basketball "prowess" came up. Her dad, George -- whom you may remember from this story -- mentioned how he had been on the varsity team in his day and still played at the local union hall. I half-jokingly suggested we play some time, and he said, "Yeah, let's do it."

A week or so later, we met up at the union hall. The building housed a very nice and well-cared for court, and there was nobody there but us. George was taller than me, solidly built, and had huge, thick hands. And he was in great shape. But despite the obvious signs that he wasn't your average former athlete in decline, I sauntered into the situation with a thick-witted confidence. After all, he was in his mid-40s. To my brazen 19-year-old self, that seemed positively ancient. And if there's anything that our American culture teaches us -- both consciously and subconsciously -- it's that the young always overcome the old. It was inevitable, right?

We started off with a series of odd shooting games I'd never heard of. There was one game in which you alternated freethrows and layups, and each successive layup had to be performed with a greater degree of difficulty than the last. Then there was a five-shot drill. Then we ran some full-court passing drills. And we finished up with HORSE.

George outperformed me in each and every game and drill we did. To a kid who had gotten used to always winning, it was embarrassing and more than a little irritating. I was anxious to get started so I could whup him in one-on-one...and I kept wondering what he was "waiting" for (at the time, the idea of warming up was completely foreign to me). Finally, it was time. He came up, handed me the ball, and said, "Okay. Full court one-on-one. Twos and threes to 24. Win by four."

Full court one-on-one? He had to be kidding...right?

Wrong. He was deadly serious. And, on my first possession, he was all over me. After a few unsuccessful drive attempts, I took a bad shot from the freethrow line. He rebounded it, sprinted downcourt, and launched a running, one-handed three-pointer that hit nothing but net.

He called out "3-0" and then sprinted back to the other end of the court and took up a defensive stance. I was a little surprised, but figured (stupidly) that it had been a lucky shot. I walked the ball back to my basket and tried to post him up. He was too strong to back down, and too tall for me to shoot over. He blocked my eventual shot attempt, sprinted back downcourt again, and hit another running one-hander from beyond the arc.

That was the very first moment where it occurred to me that I might be in trouble.

And I was. He clobbered me, something like 24-8. After the game, I was totally winded and even angrier than I had been during the warm up. I shook it off and figured that his age would soon be catching up to him, and that I would overtake him in the next game. But it didn't happen. He cleaned my clock again. And then again in a third game. By the end of that one, I was so out-of-breath that I couldn't even stand up straight. I was gasping and heaving like I'd just finished a marathon. At this point, I just wanted to quit, but he handed me the ball again and said, "Come on. Best of seven."

I lost that one too.

The defeat had been so humiliating that I became obsessed with the rematch. I decided the biggest problem had been my lack of conditioning. So I went at the cardio machines: Treadmill, bike, Stair Master, rowing machine. On some nights, I was doing about an hour and a half worth of cardio. About a month later, I challenged George to a rematch. I lost that series too, 0-4 once again.

This changed my basketball life. I now trained and practiced with only one goal in mind: Beating George in one-on-one. I would plan weekend trips home around facing him in one-on-one. (This greatly irritated my girlfriend, who felt as though she was competing against her own father for my attention.) But no matter what I did, I couldn't beat him. There was one game in which, I swear, I went 11-for-11 and still lost. (He hit a couple threes, and I hit none.)

Then, on the day I thought I had finally beaten him, I learned another lesson. I sank a three-pointer from the corner to win my first ever game against him. Or so I believed. I screamed "Boom baby!" (which Slick Leonard had popularized during his Pacers broadcasts) and raised my arms to the sky. I danced a little jig. I was unreasonably elated. Meanwhile, George retrieved the ball, handed it back to me. "Don't disrespect your opponents," he said, referring to my somewhat excessive celebration. "Play that possession over." I was stunned, but I did what he said. I missed my next couple shots, he hit his, and I lost. Again.

On another weekend visit, George and I decided to get in one quick game before dinner at an outdoor court not far from his house. I won the game, fair and square, and was smart enough not to celebrate. But he grinned at me anyway and said, "Best out of three." And he won the next two.

This cycle went on for almost two years. All the while, I was developing new moves, learning to play defense, training my body to increase my strength and endurance. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, we became more and more evenly matched. And, finally, one day I beat him in a best-of-seven series. I wish I could say it was some epic duel or that I won the seventh game on a final, dramatic shot. But it didn't go down that way. I simply won four of five games and that was that. Neither of us said anything, but we both knew. As he did after each and every game, George shook my hand and said, "Good game." Only this time, it was a little different.

George was (and still is) a great man. He taught me about playing the game, which also taught me about the game itself. Many of my outlooks on basketball and the men who play it developed during our relatively brief but intense rivalry. He taught me to respect the game, my opponents, and myself. He taught me to be gracious in victory and noble in defeat. And whether you agree or disagree, I think those are very important concepts for young men -- and even older men -- to learn. I'm still grateful.

Labels: experience, learning lessons, pickup basketball, youth

With all the press that Stephon Marbury's new head tattoo is getting, I thought it was a good time to remind the world about the mad ink that Greg Ostertag used to (and, presumably, still does) sport:


According to Greg's NBA.com bio, the tat represents "Fred Flintstone dunking." Which would be a pretty good description if the person responsible for it had just arrived on planet Earth the previous day and had no idea what a "dunk" was.

Note: Unfortunately, I can't remember who sent this to me. If you remind me, I will give you all due credit. Also, I believe somebody compared Greg's "dunking" caveman to Luke Walton's gay stick figures. Which, for your information, represents him and his brothers playing basketball.

Labels: Greg Ostertag, Idiot, Luke Walton, Stephon Marbury, tattoos

Basketbawful reader AK Dave sent me the following verbal discharge from Agent Zero's latest blog entry regarding his recent trip to Berlin:

"One night we went to dinner at a nice restaurant and we didn't have cash and it ended up being a cash-only place. (I've never heard of that before.) So we only had a credit card and we ate probably 90 euros worth of food -- which is probably $140 American since Bush done messed up the economy -- and they gave us the meal for free. It's kind of funny, Bush. We can't even go to Europe and be big ballers any more. They come to the U.S. and feel like kings now. Gas out there for us is nine dollars a gallon, I did the math and everything."

Wow. He did the math and everything. Beware, people of Earth. Gilbert could very well end up killing us all with his matchless arithmetical powers. At this rate, I bet it would only take him a few hours of intense and focused concentration to add fractions, or maybe complete a multiplication table.

I started to feel kind of bad for him, being unable to go to Europe and be a "big baller" and everything, until I did a little math of my own. His new $111 million contract -- based on the current exchange rate -- is worth almost 70 million Euros. If you can't be a big baller for that kind of coin, what the hell are you buying over there? Entire countries of little people who can power your home by running on hamster wheels? I'm half expecting to hear that Gilbert is the new owner of Estonia (which, according to Wikipedia, has large reserves of rock).

Labels: Gilbert Arenas, math, world travel

Here is Part 2 of the 2007-08 NBA Worsties. This part runs roughly through December of 2007. And I do mean roughly.

Biggest waste of a hyped shoe line: Gilbert and his Gil2Zeros (or Gil20's if ya nasty). Not only did the guy beg Adidas for more attention in 2006 and blog about how elite this line was going to be, he also decided that it needed 17 special editions to be released throughout the season starting in December. What happened? He played exactly 13 games and had 2 knee surgeries allowing him to live up to an NBA Live curse if there is one and guaranteeing Adidas of a complete waste of resources. Hibachi! [Submitted and written by Kellex of Le Basketbawl.]

The end of the line for Ruben Patterson: Known in some (rather stupid) circles as "The Kobe Stopper," Patterson had averaged a career-high 14.7 PPG on 55 percent shooting during the 2006-07 season. (I have three words for you: Contract Year Phenomenon.) On August 29, 2007, the Angels of Death Los Angeles Clippers gleefully signed him to an undisclosed deal. Clippers Vice President of Basketball Operations Elgin Baylor said, "We are thrilled to add Ruben to our team," and head coach Mike Dunleavy added, "I am really excited by our signing of Ruben Patterson." And that's about when the honeymoon ended. Patterson played only 20 games for the Clips -- averaging 5.1 PPG and 3.2 APG -- before getting waived on December 13. His current whereabouts are unknown, but he is included in Wikipedia's list of American sex offenders.

Dan Fegan gets pwn3ed by Dan Ferry: Anderson Varejao's stubborn (and foolishly greedy) agent went toe-to-toe with Danny Ferry. And lost. One rival agent -- once he'd finished erupting in a pitiless "Muwahahahahahaha!!" -- said that: "Danny Ferry cleaned (Fegan's) clock." Varejao, after a lengthy and fruitless holdout, signed an offer sheet with the Charlotte Bobcats. The Cavaliers simply matched it, allowing them to retain Varejao's services at a price that was well below market value (not to mention $10 million per year less than Fegan was asking for). But hey, that's what Fegan gets for trying to get Greg Ostertag money, because let's face it: Varejao is no Ostertag.

Jason Kidd's mysterious migraine: Kidd missed the Nets' feeble 100-93 loss to the lowly Knicks due to what was reported to be a migraine headache. But rumor had it that Kidd was really suffering from a throbbing pain in his ass, that pain being the wretched awfulness of his team. Kidd, who has no history of migraine headaches, appeared to be upset about how badly his team sucked, and that certain teammates -- cough*VinceCarter*cough -- couldn't play through a little pain and discomfort. In a way, I can't blame him, because playing with Vince Carter would give me headaches too. But quitting on your team, even if it's only for a night, isn't cool. Naturally, this was a dark omen of things to come.

Paul Pierce joins the "No Fun" Police: Before a 113-103 road win over the Philadelphia 76ers, Paul Pierce apparently "scolded a couple of teammates in the locker room who [were] having too much fun and screaming to some music." Said Pierce: "We're trying to play a game." Pierce then admitted that, last season, he "spent too much time telling his younger teammates what to do, where to go, what to eat, how to dress." Wow. Who knew Pierce was such a Fun Nazi? Oh, right, these guys.

Shaq takes out his frustration on Joel Przybilla: During the opening minutes of a routine 112-106 road loss to the Portland Trailblazers, Shaq made one of his signature awkward lurches to the basket and headbutted Joel Przybilla, then fell on him and drove the basketball into his face. Przybilla got knocked out of the game for a while, but he returned in the second quarter and did a good job containing Shaq when the big man was actually in the game. (The Big Ham Hands got into foul trouble yet again.) Yes, the 2007-08 season marked the point at which Shaq could no longer overpower Joel Przybilla. Here's some video of the event.

LeBron proves (once again) that today's ballers are huge vaginas: King James, who looks like an unstoppable force of pure physical power, missed a few games in December with a sprained left index finger. This is what it's come to. Gone are the days when we could expect professional athletes to, say, play through the pain of a broken foot or maybe cut off their finger to stay in a game. Soon a case of cotton mouth or maybe a bad hair day will be all it takes to make it onto the injured list.

Al Horford gives T.J. Ford [Arnie voice] a pain in dah neck [/Arnie voice]: Yeah, I know it was an accident and everything, but Horford's foul on T.J. Ford looked pretty bad. Not only that, it ended with Ford -- who missed the entire 2004-05 season after neck surgery -- getting carried off the floor on a stretcher. I feel kind of like a jerk for saying this, but you know, Ford might not have gotten hurt if the refs had just made the call on what was a pretty obvious travel. I mean, he took three full steps after his last dribble.


Carlos Boozer declares war on Steve Nash's teeth: An "errant" Boozer elbow knocked out a chuck of Captain Canada's pearly whites, but it didn't prevent him from beating the Jazz with 29 points (10-for-12), 11 assists and 6 rebounds. Said Nash: "I just kind of took an elbow or something and it chipped off. So I get to spend some of my day off at the dentist, as luck would have it." Kudos to Nash for having a sense of humor about it. Had it been someone like Kobe Bryant or Lebron James, I'm sure the reaction and resulting press coverage would have been needlessly grim and melodramatic (e.g., "Despite the pain and anguish of a broken tooth, Kobe reached down deep and found the winner within, scoring a bunch of points and blah, blah, blah." Does anybody remember how Nash's tooth got broken the last time? That's right: An errant elbow from Karl Malone (as also noted by Nash after the game). Of course, Malone was an evil Laker at that time, but we know he was always a Jazz man at heart.


Andrew Bynum declares war on Fabricio Oberto's face: Bynum earned himself double technicals and an ejection for popping Fabricio Oberto in the face with an elbow. And it didn't happen in the heat of action; it happened during a dead ball situation while Oberto was making his way downcourt. What made the situation even more pathetic was how Bynum raised his hands after the fact to make it look like he didn't actually intend to hit Oberto, then actually complained about getting teched up (which earned him a second technical). Naturally, Kobe had to stick his nose into it, running downcourt to argue with the the ref. And of course Phil Jackson, ever the smug one, commented to the sideline reporter between the third and fourth quarters that the officials had "evened things out" between the two teams (since Duncan and Parker were out) by kicking Bynum out of the game. See, these are perfect examples of why it's so easy to hate the Lakers.


Tony Parker's sprained vagina ankle: TP missed a handful of games in December with a sprained ankle. Of course, I'm sure it was just a coincidence that his injury happened to coincide with those nasty allegations of an affair with French super-hottie Alexandra Paressant, who claims she did the nasty désobligeant with TP. This is going to totally shock you, but Parker denied it: "I love my wife. She's the best thing in my life, and I have never been happier." Here's the funny thing, though: Parker "said" all that in a statement from Longoria's spokeswoman, Liza Anderson. So Parker, a three-time world champion and last season's NBA Finals MVP, has to defend himself through a statement issued by his wife’s spokeswoman? I guess we know who wears the Pretty Pink Princess panties in that family.

Darko Milicic's ego (once again) hits an all-time low: 2007-08 was supposed to be Darko's breakout season. But after a listless performance against the Magic -- 4 points (2-5), 3 rebounds, 5 personal fouls, and several brutal posterizations by Dwight Howard -- the only thing broken was Darko's ego: "My confidence level right now is really low. It's horrible. It's weird. I'm with a team now that needs me, and has given me every opportunity to play. I've got a nice contract, but for some reason I can't even do the things I used to do. I don't know what's wrong with my game." Wow. I don't know how his confidence could possibly have gotten any lower than it was in Detroit, where the coach wouldn't play him and most of his teammates wouldn't even look him in the eye. But it happened.

Update! Jeff Foster punks a fan run amok: During a 93-85 Pacers victory over the Gilbert Arena and Caron Buter-less Washington Wizards, a crazed fan made it onto the court and managed to evade several Keystone Cops security guards before Indiana center Jeff Foster stepped in and tripped the kid, sending him into what I'm hoping was a brutally painful faceplanting. [Nominated by Stephanie G.]


Pat Riley discovers the pain of, uh, pain: After a 106-103 loss to the Pacers, the Heat fell to 6-17. What did Riles have to say after his team's latest defeat? "There's a lot of pain. It's very painful. Sometimes you wonder. I'm not trying to get on a philosophical bent here, but when you're given everything that you've ever wanted in your profession, you wonder why that you feel such pain. You say why, why give me all this and make me feel pain?" Uh...what the hell? Seriously, that insipid rant is one of the most pathetic things I've ever read. Maybe it's just me, but I think that after winning 6 championships (1 as a player, 5 as a coach) and becoming a mega-millionaire, you officially lose all rights to whine like a little bitch unless a loved one is diagnosed with terminal cancer or you get sodomized by hillbillies during a rafting trip through Alabama. Once again, I'm just sayin'.

The continuing Fire Isiah movement: There simply was no escape for Isiah, not even on the Knicks bench.

Unhappy holidays from John Paxson: Somebody had to take the fall for the failed expectations of the Chicago Bulls, and everybody pretty much knew it was going to be Scott Skiles. But on Christmas Eve? Seriously? Yes, seriously. Merry freaking Christmas, Mr. Skiles. And you have to wonder how much of the blame Skiles really deserved. As Statbuster asked at the time: "Is Scott Skiles responsible for Ben Gordon, Kirk Hinrich, and Ben Wallace devolving into Juan Dixon, Steve Blake, and Michael Cage? Is Skiles accountable for the Kwame Brown-like work ethic of Tyrus Thomas? Was Skiles the one that dealt LaMarcus Aldridge for this guy?"

Then, on the day after Christmas, finally free of Skiles' iron-fisted tyranny, the Bulls once again put forth the kind of lackluster effort that got their coach fired and made Kyle Orton the talk of Chicago. Released from Skiles suffocating offensive sets, Luol Deng shot 5-of-15 and Andres Nocioni hit 1-of-11. Ben Wallace, who chafed under Skiles' Draconion rules, submitted a 2-point, 4-rebound gem while being totally outplayed by Matt Bonner (12 points, 9 rebounds). But despite their newfound freedom and the sense of hope it brought, the Bulls still got blown out by a Spurs team that didn't have Manu Ginobili and suffered through a poor game from Tim Duncan (8 points on 2-of-9 shooting and 5 turnovers). Yay, team. [Nominated by dumbgenius.]

We wear short-shorts: With the Lakers and Celtics both leading their respective conferences for the first time since the Bird/Magic era, the Lakers "honored" the moment by breaking out 80’s sized (or lack thereof) shorts. There are too many wrongs here to list…but I will:

1. The Celtics first laughed at the idea and then proceeded to literally beat the pants off the Lakers (and they gave a very accurate preview of things to come in the Finals with their physical presence. As a Lakers fan I was hoping they just lacked confidence because of the shorts and not because the C’s are physically intimidating...boy was I wrong!)

2. The baggy 00's era tops with tiny 80's era shorts look made it appear as though the Lakers came out in their boxers. Correct me if I’m wrong, but basketball is a sport not to be played in underwear.

3. Did I mention that the fans were laughing also? Save the sideshow antics for the Clippers and not the best and most physical team in the NBA.

4. They gave away tee shirts proclaiming, "I saw the short-shorts!!!" Really? Am I really going to wear a tee shirt of an ass-kicking that brags about seeing grown men in tiny shorts? (Here’s a pic of the tee.)

5. The Lakers quickly changed back into normal shorts at halftime. Unfortunately they were down 8 and never rallied. [Submitted and written by Craig from The Association.]

Labels: Al Horford, Andrew Bynum, Carlos Boozer, john paxson, Lebron James, Los Angeles Clippers, NBA Worsties, Paul Pierce, Ruben Patterson, scott skiles, Steve Nash

Note of apology: I misplaced Wild Yams' submission regarding Smush Parker and wrote my own entry about it. Mine has been replaced by his. Sorry, Yams.

There were way too many Worsties from the recently deceased NBA season to fit them all into one post, unless you happen to enjoy blog articles that are 20 pages long. So I'm going to break this baby up into multiple posts over the course of the week. Here's the first one. It runs from the preseason through November only, so never fear: Those of you who made contributions will be recognized in due time.

Gilbert Arenas and his (cracked) crystal ball: Back in October, Agent Zero made the following bold prediction on his blog: "On November 2nd, we're going to go into [TD Banknorth Garden], we're opening up Boston. Right now I'm telling the Boston fans: You guys are going to lose. It's not going to be a victory for Boston. You might as well just cheer for me, because Boston isn't winning in Boston for the season opener. I'm sorry." A few days and several thousand "He has got to be kidding" newspaper articles and blog posts later, Gil amended his prediction somewhat. But not really. "I mean, when you look at that Celtics team, that's a powerful team...on paper. Once those guys get going, you're in trouble. You can’t guard that team...on paper. You still have to play the games.... But November 2 for them, that’s going to be truh-bull. Trouble."

It was trouble, all right. For the Wizards. The Celtics thumped them 108-83. Washington shot 35 percent and committed 20 turnovers (to only 11 assists). They were "led" by Gilbert's 5-for-19 shooting and 4 turnovers. After the game, Agent Zero was unusually quiet: "They have a great squad. You can see that they have what it takes." Too bad (for him) that he couldn't have seen that a little earlier.

Ben Wallace finally gets his way: After spending most of the 2006-07 season proving he couldn't play worth a damn without a headband, Wallace forced convinced Bulls coach Scott Skiles to change his "zero tolerance" policy for headbands to a "one tolerance" policy. Surprisingly enough, that did not affect the cadaver-like quality of Big Ben's play.

Brad Miller's hair adventures: After dropping 25 pounds of soggy fat during the offseason, Brad Beefcake decided to spruce up his image a little bit. During training camp, he unveiled a suave, parted-down-the-center haircut with sweeping bangs and a striking, come-hither gaze that caused the virginity of several thousand Sacramento teens to spontaneously combust. But he wasn't done there. Oh dear Gods no. He soon unleashed upon the world a beautifully cornrowed cocunut that set a new Gold Standard for white boys trying to look like black men.


Josh Howard punks Brad Miller: Speaking of Brad the Bad, during a preseason game between Sacramento and Dallas, he and the tiny Devin Harris got tangled up. The shoving match between the seven-foot center and the wee little guard ended pretty much the way you'd expect: With Miller knocking Harris to the floor like a bop bag. The situation escalated when Harris' teammate, Josh Howard, ran the length of the floor and dropped an atomic forearm onto the back of Miller's head. It was another incident in the fad of one player cheapshotting another player from behind, as popularized by Carmelo Anthony. According to Howard: "I was protecting my teammate -- that's about as simple as you can put it. It was a dirty play, and it wasn't even Devin [who was at fault]." Note that the Nazis at YouTube have taken down the video of this event. If anyone has it or can find it, please send it on. Edit! Here's the video. Thanks, foolioami!

The word out of Dallas was that this wasn't the first time Miller had taken a shot at Harris. Harris claimed that it had happened three other times, and that he was even knocked out of a game one of those times. Personally, I think Harris is a bit of a drama queen. I saw the video, and Harris put a little extra mustard on his fall. Also, things had calmed down right after Howard's sneak attack, but Harris still decided to take an extra shot at the dazed Miller after said sneak attack.

Isiah Thomas' grasp on reality continues to weaken: Remember how Isiah was "looking forward" to taking the stand to debunk the "pretty wildly fabricated" sexual harassment allegations levied against him? Er, that didn't work out quite the way he planned. On October 2, 2007, the jury returned a verdict finding Thomas and Madison Square Garden liable for sexual harassment. The jury also levied $11.6 million in punitive damages against MSG. But despite being found exceedingly guilty in a court of law, Isiah was not the least bit humble or repentent: "I'm innocent, very innocent, and I did not do the things she has accused me in this courtroom of doing. I'm extremely disappointed that the jury did not see the facts in this case. I will appeal this, and I remain confident in the man that I am and what I stand for and the family that I have." Uh, yeah, how's that appeal going for you, Isiah?

LeBron gives Cleveland the middle finger: Those looking for evidence that King James is going to bolt for New York at the first possible opportunity need look no further than last October, when Bron Bron was seen in Cleveland rooting for the New York Yankees, and thus against the hometown Indians. Lebron was even wearing a Yankees hat, and fans started jeering him and chanting "Take of the cap!" One fan even screamed "Go to New York, then" (another fan heard that and said "No, no, please don't"). Naturally, the blogosphere went bonkers, calling James things like "traitor" and "betrayer." The thing is, Lebron's allegience had never been in question; he's a lifelong Yankees fan. But it sure would be easier to root for them if he was wearing a New York Knicks or Brooklyn Nets uniform, wouldn't it?

Bulls fans quickly turn on their team: Lofty preseason expectations of reaching the NBA Finals turned to rage and hatred only two games into the season as, during what would become a loss to the Philadelphia 76ers in the Bulls' home opener, Chicago fans started chanting for Kobe Bryant. (At the time, there were, of course, rumors that Kobe wanted to be traded to the Bulls. Oh, how times change.)


Phil Jackson psyches out Mike D'Antoni: It was only the second game of the season, but Suns coach Mike D'Antoni nearly popped a blood vessel after the Zen Master called a timeout immediately after a mandatory Phoenix timeout with 4:45 to play and the Lakers leading 111-81. D'Antoni and Jackson, uhm, "exchanged words."


Said D'Antoni: "You mean the eight minutes he took over there to explain maybe one play that he probably didn't run? Yeah, I was pretty upset. I thought he disrespected our players. But he likes to play mind games, and that's fine. He might want to try to do it in playoff time when we bust them every year. We have them three more times. That's fine." And, for the record, the Suns lost two of those three games and flopped in the first round of the playoffs while the Lakers were cruising to the Finals. I'm not saying that Mike's manic, hyper-sensitive nature is why he couldn't coach the Suns to a title...actually, no, that's exactly what I'm saying.

The Big Tamed Tiger: Things looked pretty bleak for the Miami Heat as they looked to start the season without injured superstar Dwyane Wade. But the Big Braggadocio made some pretty bold promises during the preseason. Specifically, he said he was going to return to his old dominating ways until Wade returned. "As a tamed tiger now, you always go back to what you know, a la Siegfried and Roy. I've been tame the last couple years, but here’s a chance for me to go wild again." Unfortunately for Pat Riley and the Heat, "going wild" meant 14 points and 7 rebounds per game before quitting on his team going down with a hip injury that mysteriously and immediately healed after he was traded to the Phoenix Suns.

Most Volatile Player: Paul Pierce is now, finally and officially, a part of Celtics lore, thanks to an NBA championship and a Finals MVP award. But there was a time, early in the season, when The Truth almost picked a fight with a young fan outside a Toronto night club.

Isiah versus Starbury: Stephon Marbury bailed on the Knicks right before a big road game against the Suns, supposedly because Isiah Thomas was going to yank him from the starting lineup in favor of second-year gaurd Mardy Collins. Starbury blew up on the team plane and reportedly said, "Isiah has to start me. I've got so much (bleep) on Isiah and he knows it. He thinks he can (bleep) me. But I'll (bleep) him first. You have no idea what I know." Thomas of course shed absolutely no light on the subject by saying, "That is an in-house matter and we will continue to keep it in-house. Make no mistake about it -- we do want him as a member of this basketball team. He is welcomed back." In the midst of all this dysfunction, the Knicks lost to the Suns 113-102 despite the fact that Steve Nash scored a season-low 5 points on 2-6 shooting.

Phil Jackson thinks "gay" means "funny": I assumed that after whole "Tim Hardaway hates gay people" controversy, somebody as intelligent as Phil Jackson would know better than to make a gay joke during a postgame press conference. Well, I was wrong. After a mid-November loss to the San Antonio Spurs, Jackson said: "We call this a 'Brokeback Mountain' game, because there's so much penetration and kickouts. It was one of those games." The NBA didn't find the joke funny and reprimanded Jackson, who responded with the following incredibly sincere apology. Note that the Zen Master apparently doesn't understand the meaning of alliteration.


Ha, ha, ha...I hate us: Midway through the first month of the season, Jason Kidd was already opening hating his team to the press. That's the kind of situation that rarely ends well, and sure enough, it didn't. But more on that in an upcoming installment.

The Mavericks continue to struggle with bowel ball movement: I "broke" the story about the Mavs' passing woes, and while it didn't seem like that big of a deal at the time, it had the kind of ominous overtones that suggested the team might, at some point, make a panic trade to address the situation. But more on that in an upcoming installment.

Mike Dunleavy Jr. invokes the name of God: On November 27, 2007, the Pacers got a huge road victory last night, winning 112-110 in Denver. But the officials almost stole the game from them by awarding J.R. Smith three freethrows for swinging out his leg and kicking Mike Dunleavy Jr. on a last-second, desperation shot. That awful call gave Smith a chance to tie the game, but the Nuggets were doomed by a little thing we like to call cheater's proof: Smith hit the first two freethrows, then missed the last one. Said Dunleavy: "What was going through my mind was, 'I'm a Christian, I go to church and God may not be a Pacer fan, but he gives us fairness and he was going to come through. The basketball never lies. I knew he was going to miss one of those, but it should have never got to that point." I hate it when athletes go all God-crazy, especially in this came. I mean, we can all agree that God hates the Pacers, right?

Carmelo Anthony chokes a bitch: 'Melo got ejected with 6:18 remaning in what would become a 127-99 loss to the Lakers for giving Sasha Vujacic a chop block to the throat away from the ball. Anthony claimed it wasn't intentional (but it was) and that Vujacic drew attention to the foul by flopping (which he did, laughably so). Said Vujacic: "I think I've got to give him a DVD of European soccer. Then he can really see flops. I think it was frustration on his part. He's one of the best players in the league. But we did an amazing job on defense against him by double-teaming him -- and that's why he tried to choke me. I was surprised that he grabbed me with his hand." Ha, ha, yeah, you go ahead and try to give Carmelo a soccer DVD and you'll probably get choked again, Sasha. Or at the very least he'll bitchslap you from behind and then run away. Anyway, here's the video:


The Miami Cold, Part I: Minus D-Wade and with Shaq playing like an apathetic senior citizen, the Heat finish November with a 4-11 record in what will, incredibly, be their best month of the friggin' season. Pat Riley not only thought he could do better than most of his players, he said it out loud. To the press. "I guarantee you I should suit up. I'd play better than some of them right now. I guarantee it. I swear to God. With an old hip and 62 years old and I can't see, I'll play better than some of my guys tonight. Come on, they were pretty bad." Making matters even worse, the Riley and the Heat had to deal with a ridiculous off-court distraction...

Smush's Parking Disaster: After self-combusting last year on the Lakers (prompting Phil Jackson to remove him from the starting lineup 80 games into the season), he was given a new shot at an NBA career in Miami this season... until he physically attacked a female valet over a disputed $12 parking fee. This essentially ended his season with the Heat (the league's worst team), and after a couple month hiatus from playing he was eventually sent to NBA Hell for what probably marks the end of his career. [Submitted and written by Wild Yams.]

Labels: Brad Miller, Chicago Bulls, Isiah Thomas, Lebron James, NBA Worsties

Note: This graphic apparently comes from a web comic called XKCD. I had no idea; it was simply forwarded to me by a friend. But I've heard that the comic is pretty funny.

Marvin "Bad News" Barnes -- who received his nickname for various off-the-court problems, like (allegedly) attacking Providence teammate Larry Ketvirtis with a tire iron -- was one of the NBA's great wasted talents. Cocaine abuse destroyed his body and cut short what many people thought could have been a Hall of Fame career, and Barnes has since been arrested for trespassing, stealing videotapes from an adult movie store, being under the influence of narcotics, and burglary. The awesomest of his arrests came after he robbed a liquor store in broad daylight while wearing a basketball jersey with his name on the back. Oh yes he did.

But Marvin's greatest sin was his crime against Mighty Science. In 1975, during his rookie year with the ABA's Spirit of Saint Louis, Barnes showed up for a team flight and was told that it was scheduled to leave Louisville at 8 a.m. and land in St. Louis at 7:57 a.m. This, of course, was due to a time zone change, but Barnes couldn't wrap his head around the concept. As he explained to Bob Costas (who at the time was the Spirits' announcer): "I ain't goin' on no time machine. I ain't takin' no flight that takes me back in time." So News rented a car and drove to St. Louis.

Dishonorable mentions

Update! Chris Washburn or Charles Shackleford: I got this reminder from deej: "Hey Basketbawful, you left out the scholarly Chris Washburn and his famous quote 'Yeah, I can go to my right and my left. That's because I'm amphibious.'" Indeed I did, although there seems to be some dispute about whether Washburn or North Carolina State teammate Charles Shackleford said it. Additionally, the statement is sometimes quoted as: "Left hand, right hand it doesn't matter, I'm amphibious."

Jason Kidd: In 1994, during his rookie season with the Dallas Mavericks, Kidd was trying to explain that the Mavs were going to improve greatly on the previous season's record of 13-69. At least, I think that's what he was trying to explain. But what he said was: "We're going to turn this team around 360 degrees."

Dennis Rodman: When asked about chemistry, the Worm said: "Chemistry is a class you take in high school or college when you want to figure out two plus ten or something." Who dresses like a woman and doesn't know a damn thing? This guy!

Doug Collins: Mr. Emotional once said: "Any time Detroit scores more than 100 points and holds the other team below 100 points, they almost always win." Have I mentioned how glad I am he won't be coaching in Chicago this season?

Update! Drew Gooden: The bearded wonder doesn't know much about geography. He once said that: "I didn't even know Elvis was from Memphis. I thought he was from Tennessee." As if that wasn't bad enough, he also claimed that: "My girlfriend isn't Asian. She's Thai." Tip o' the hat to 80's NBA for the first quote.

Update! Kenyon Martin: Ever wonder why Kenyon is such an, ahem, pleasant guy? Here's why, in his own words: "When I was young, I would just snap. I've come 360 degrees with my temper and my attitude." Yup, that's about right.

Update! Kenyon Martin (again): Did you know that Kenyon used to suffer from a persistent stuttering problem? Well, he did. And, according to him: "Sometimes I still do. I've come 360 degrees, though." That's gruh-gruh-gruh-great, Kenyon!

Update! Kenyon Martin (yet again): Regarding opening the 2001-02 season finally free of the injury and fatigue seasons that had plagued him the previous year, Kenyon said: "Trust me, it's 360 from where it was."

Kobe Bryant: Of course, I can't omit Kobe, who once lamented that: "I've always been an outcast. Since I was a little kid. I was the only black kid in Italy, I was the only Italian kid in America." Aren't there, like, 60 million people in Italy? And aren't there about 300 million people in the United States? I think Mamba needs a lesson in demographics.

Update! Mychal Thompson: Sweet Bells once explained his ability to measure errors in refraction sunny disposition during an NBA summer league broadcast: "I'm an optometrist. I always believe in good -- well you know what I mean. I believe in good stuff."

Shaq: In describing his mammoth intellect, The Big Brain Surgeon once said: "I have a lot of knowledge in my medulla oblongata." I'm sure he probably picked this term up from Water Boy, but for the record, the medulla oblongata is the part of brain that controls autonomic functions like respiration, blood pressure, swallowing, vomiting and (my favorite) defecation. So...was The Big Geritol actually saying he has poop for brains? I'll let you decide for yourself.

Shaq (again): The Big Mathemetist also claimed that: "My game is like the Pythagorean theorem, no one has an answer." But, uhm, there is an answer to that theorem, Mr. O'Neal. Update! Shaq actually used this quote again, revising his original assertion: "There is no answer to the Pythagorean theorem. Well, there is an answer, but by the time you figure it out, I got 40 points, 10 rebounds, and then we're planning for the parade."

Shaq (yet again): And when asked whether he had visited the Parthenon during his visit to Greece, the Deisel fatuously uttered: "I can't really remember the names of the clubs we went to." Update! Loved this comment from Basketbawful reader a: "What he should have said is that other centers are probably like the Quadratic Equation -- nobody remembers them after 2 years! B2+/- Root C2-4AC... aw screw it!"

Tracy McGrady: Jason Kidd and Kenyon Martin aren't the only NBA players who have trouble with Euclidean geometry. After signing with the Orlando Magic in 2000, T-Mac said: "[My] career was sputtering until [I] did a 360 and got headed in the right direction." Hm. Could explain all those first round disappointments.

Update! Vlade Divac: I'm sure there's a perfectly sound physiological reason that middle-aged men develop large and rather nasty beer bellies. But Vlade thinks there's also a psychological reason. To wit: "We all get heavier as we get older because there's a lot more information in our heads." Another tip 'o the hat to 80's NBA.

Yogi Berra: Oh, and even though he's not a basketball guy, I can't omit Yogi's celebrated declaration that: "Baseball is 90 percent mental -- the other half is physical." That was almost matched by Mickey Rivers infamous "Pitching is 80 percent of the game. The other half is hitting and fielding" comment.

If you have another example of a basketball player mutilating the sciences, leave a comment or email me directly.

Important Note: In case you're wondering about the 2007-08 Worsties, they got delayed, mostly because they're going to be much longer than I originally anticipated. Expect a multi-part series to start next week.

Labels: Doug Collins, Jason Kidd, Kobe Bryant, Marvin "Bad News" Barnes, Mighty Science, Shaq, Tracy McGrady, Worst Evers

This classic line from Darryl Dawkins makes me greatly fear for the safety of every toilet on Planet Lovetron: "I didn't mean to destroy it. It was the power, the Chocolate Thunder. I could feel it surging through my body, fighting to get out. I had no control over it."

Believe it or not, this is George Gervin's response to the same event: "I started to rush in to help out. Then I saw Double D cock the ball behind his head. I got the hell out of there. I knew what was coming. I had seen his Kansas City act on the TV replay. In slow motion. It was scary." Don't feel bad, George. You're not the first man to run from the Chocolate Thunder.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who laughed out loud reading these quotes (which are from NBA.com by the way). If you want to know what Sir Slam and the Iceman were really talking about, watch this video. It's the number three (and not, as you might suspect, number two).

Labels: Darryl Dawkins, dunks, George Gervin, Out of Contexts, poop humor, quotes

Most people who participate in pickup basketball regularly tend to play at the same place, whether it's an organized league, the local gym, a nearby park, or whatever. That place becomes your de facto home court. You know the floors, the rims, the rules of play. You've adjusted to any odd quirks in the lighting, the facilities, the people. You may even be on a first-name basis with the homeless man who likes to sleep under the bleachers. You become comfy there because -- regardless of whether the conditions and competition are good or bad -- it is familiar. And not to go all Noam Chomsky on you, but human beings crave what is familiar.

However, sometimes the league session ends, or the gym is letting fat people do aerobics on the basketball court, or nobody is at the park. And -- if you have a real basketball jones -- that's when you have to play on "the road." A couple nights ago, Evil Ted and I were forced to hit the road to get our pickup fix. We went to a pay-by-the-night league just outside Chicago, and it was...an experience.

For starters, the rules were different. The place where we usually play, we score by 1s (for a conventional basket) and 2s (for three-pointers) up to 9 (if there are a lot of people waiting to play), 15 (if there are a few people waiting) or 21 (if there are only two teams per court with nobody waiting). This league scores by 2s and 3s up to 17. How that system -- which I have never before encountered -- was chosen, I have no idea. Maybe they came up with it to confuse strangers, or maybe they just like being irrationally different. Like guys who wear pink polos with baby blue shorts.

Secondly, the talent level was slightly lower than what we're used to. Sure, our regular league has its fair share of low-talent redshirts, but there are also several skilled players and a few guys who played college ball for a Division I college team.

I'm sure none of the guys we played with the other night ever did anything more than watch college ball.

But one thing that always seems to be true in pickup is that what people lack in talent, they tend to make up for with physical play (think Bruce Bowen, only with less subtlety). This means that the area around the basket becomes a butcher shop. Drive to the hoop, and you will be bumped, grabbed and fouled. There's even the feeling that, if given the chance, these men would reach into your stomach and, with a scream of primal rage, rip out your spine. So, naturally, I was bleeding from the mouth by the second game. Seriously.

That being said, Evil Ted and I were more or less having our way. It wasn't that we were doing anything particularly spectacular; we were just playing fundamental basketball. Passing, setting picks, moving without the ball, hustling...and it didn't hurt that I was hitting well from the outside. Speaking of which, there is no better way to impress your teammates and intimidate your opponents on the road than hitting a bunch of threes. I connected on my first three triples, and after that my teammates could not pass me the ball fast enough. The opposing team, on the other hand, was freaking out because, for all they knew, I shot like that all the time. They had never seen me cool off yet. So, once my shooting ability had been established, one or two guys would go flying past every time I juked or head-faked.

We won our first three games pretty handily and were up 8-2 in the fourth game when things fell apart. One of the league regulars, an older guy, was driving ponderously to the hoop against me on the fast break. As he shambled by, I rose up and lightly blocked his layup attempt. He immediately called a foul.

This is important to remember: New guys always have more fouls called against them. Just like rookies in the NBA have to earn respect, you have to earn respect on the road in pickup ball. Guys are much more willing to overlook a little contact from someone they know than from someone they don't. In fact, they might very well make bogus calls because they don't know you. After all, you're invading their turf, and they have to protect it. Oh, and the old guys are notorious for this behavior. Maybe it's because they're old school, or it could be that even a gentle breeze would file like brutal contact to their fragile bodies. Who knows?

I immediately spun around and said "Whaaaaaa...?" because it was a terrible call, even by "road" standards. One of the guys teammates came right up to me and slapped my palm and gave me a look that said, "Yes that was a clean block, and yes you got jobbed, just let it go, okay?" And I decided to do just that. But Evil Ted didn't.

Actually, he couldn't. Which is part of why we call him "Evil" Ted. To make matters worse, he and this guy had gotten into it during one of our previous forays to this league...while they were teammates, no less. So Evil Ted was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off on the old guy, and he said, loudly and pointedly, "If he's gonna call that shit, foul him really hard next time."

That was a mistake.

You see, anger cannot be created or destroyed. It simply exists based on its own unique rules of existence, like cosmic rays and Dick Cheney. The old guy got in Evil Ted's face, and the two started jawing at each other. Then, over the course of the next few plays, they were pushing and shoving at each other away from the ball. And then things got out of control.

See, here's yet another little factoid about playing on the road. As I mentioned, you are an invader. So no matter how nice and respectful you might be, you are The Enemy. The regulars want to beat you. I mean, they really want to beat you. Who doesn't want to protect their home court and knock the new guy or guys down a few pegs? My buddy Mister P calls it "feeding them their rookie cookies."

This means that the regulars will play a little harder, a little more aggressively against you. Or maybe a lot more. Normally, you can overcome this by keeping quiet and just playing good basketball. You can win guys over and earn respect in as little as one night of play. But -- and this is important -- do not rile up the regulars if you are a newbie or an occasional visitor. Mouthing off or committing hard fouls will unite the opposing team in a way that nothing else can. Even worse, it can cost you the trust of your teammates (assuming they are also regulars), because you're now bullying around the guys they play with on a weekly basis.

From that point on, we were outscored 15-2 and (obviously) lost. The other team was all over us like Jerome James on a box of Twinkies. They were playing great defense, and when that failed they'd just foul us. Our teammates stopped passing us the ball and were too intimidated themselves to do much on the offensive end. After scoring most of the points in the first three games, I got one shot the rest of the way. I'm not sure Evil Ted even got another shot.

Sadly, that was the last game of the night. And there's no worse feeling than losing that last game. (Well, unless you lose all the games.)

The next day, Evil Ted came up to me as soon as he arrived at work and said, "I'm sorry. I blew that game and ruined the whole night." (Yes, we have to talk about pickup first thing the next day. Hell, sometimes we have to discuss it the same night.) I, of course, agreed. And we vowed that, the next time we go to that league, we're going to remain (relatively) silent and play the game.

We go back in two weeks.

Labels: pickup basketball, playing on the road

This just in from the World of Mighty Science: We are both sexy and opinionated. Of course, the "sexy" part isn't news to me, simply validation of what that beautiful man in the mirror tells me morning after morning. Besides, who am I to argue with Science?

Here's the new Blogdome Atlas posted by Tom Ziller at BallHype:


It's interesting to note that we're roughly the opposite of Deadspin -- for whom I also write -- since Deadspin is rated as more informative and staid. So, hey, I get to be the best of everything. Damn, I rock.

[Hat tip: TrueHoop.]

Labels: Basketbawful, dead sexy, opinionated

Pull a Boozer (puhl a booz'-uhr) noun. When a player makes an off-the-record agreement to sign a contract with one team and then subsequently breaks that agreement to sign with another team, usually for more money and/or a better opportunity.

Usage example: From Falk’s hands all over Brand’s move to Philly by Adrian Wojnarowski. "Several executives still believed, in the words of one Eastern Conference GM, that 'Brand had pulled a Boozer.' Translated: Brand backed out of a preordained deal, which could explain why the Clippers were so stubborn about elevating the original $70 million offer that they made him in the wake of the opt-out."

Word history: Carlos Boozer had a semi-breakout year during the 2003-04 season, averaging 15.5 points (on 52 percent shooting) and 11.4 rebounds per game. During the summer, his team -- the Cleveland Cavaliers -- had a tough decision to make: Keep him under contract for one more year at a salary of $695,000 or let him become a restricted free agent. Boozer and his agent agreed -- off the record, of course -- to sign a 6-year, $39 million contract with the Cavs if they just let him out of the last year of his current deal.

So, in an effort to appease (and yet retain) a valued player, the Cavaliers let Boozer out of the last year of his contract...and he promptly signed an offer sheet with the Jazz worth $68 million over six years.

Under the rules of restricted free agency, Cleveland had the option to match Utah's offer, but they were already over the salary cap. This meant that, unless they started cutting players right and left, they could match only up to the Mid-level exception (which was far less money than what Utah was offering). So, in the end, the Cavaliers could not and did not to re-sign him.

Naturally, Boozer denied that he made any under-the-table agreements with the Cavs: "There was no commitment. It's unfortunate how the turn of events went through the media. I'm not a guy that gives my word and takes it away. I think I've made that clear." Oh yes, Carlos. Crystal clear.

Meanwhile, Cavaliers owner Gordon Gund -- who as most people know is blind -- was bitter over getting jobbed by his former employee, and he expressed that bitterness in a letter to the Cleveland fans. "In the final analysis, I decided to trust Carlos and show him the respect he asked for. He did not show that trust and respect in return."

The more things change, the more they don't. I mean, all Elton Brand wanted was for the Clippers to bring in some more help, and he was willing to take less money to make that happen, right?

Right. And maybe I'm a Chinese jet pilot.

In case you forgot, this is what Brand said a little over a week ago when he decided to forego the final year of his contract (and $16+ million): "We're opting out. It definitely doesn't mean I'm leaving the Clippers. We're trying to work it out. My intention is to stay." Brand even suggested he'd be willing to re-sign for a reduced salary so that the team could bring in some better players and become more competitive.

Then Brand's agent, David Falk, talked up how his client simply wanted the Clips to nab a big-time free agent -- which they did -- to give the team a better chance of winning. "It preserves options to make the team better. Clearly, if Elton decided he wanted to simply max out the dollars, he would have stayed in the deal, had a monster year, and a lot more teams will have cap room next year."

Falk laid it on even thicker when he said that a visit to Boston for Game 2 of the NBA Finals was a big reason why Brand chose to opt out. "He watched what happened when a few stars get together and agree to have a communal effort. He said 'That's what I'd like to accomplish in my career.'"

But in the end, despite his delcaration of intent to remain a Clipper, Brand bolted for Philly so he could make a little more money and play in a weaker conference. Good luck with that, Elton. And by "good luck" I of course mean "I will enjoy watching you fail in Philadelphia." I really hope Baron Davis does an off-the-heezay upside Brand's head the first time the Clippers play the Sixers.

Labels: Carlos Boozer, Elton Brand, lies lies and more lies, shady deals, Word of the Day

Bear: On January 24, 2004, Karl Malone returned to Utah for the first time as a Laker. During a timeout, Jazz mascot Bear answered a fake call that was broadcast over the loudspeakers. The caller imitated Malone's voice, identifying himself as "Mail" and saying he wanted to come home because L.A. fans were mean to him and the Lakers don't pass him the ball. The call ended with the imitator saying, "I guess it could be worse. I could be Ko..." stopping short of saying Kobe. This happened during Kobegate, of course, and some people felt it was in poor taste to mock a man who was suspected of rape. Malone, who would later be threatened by Kobe for supposedly hitting on his wife, was one of that "some." Said the Mailman: "After 18 years, for them to stoop to that kind of level, that's no class. And that's something I'll never forget." The Jazz issued an apology for the incident, but Malone wasn't having it. "It's not sincere. The guy who was involved, who they put the blame on, apologized and I accept his because he's sincere. Other people there, no. I forgive, don't get me wrong, but I don't accept it because it's not real." The league fined the Jazz $15,000, and although the team had approved the skit, they still forced the man who plays Bear to pay half of the fine himself.

Benny the Bull: On July 2, 2006, Benny (portrayed by Barry Anderson) was arrested by an off-duty police officer while performing at the Taste of Chicago. Dressed in full mascot regalia, Anderson zoomed his miniature motorcycle through the festival -- be prepared to gasp -- without the required permit. (The city of Chicago takes its miniature motorcycling very seriously.) When the officer, who was providing security at the event, identified himself as a Po-Po and ordered Anderson to stop, Anderson beat a very brave retreat. The officer pursued on foot and (amazingly) caught up to Anderson, who punched him in the face, knocking off the officer's glasses and breaking his watch. (Apparently he was wearing the watch on his face.) According to Anderson, he was just acting "in character." (Because, as everyone knows, Benny the Bull is a notorious cop-puncher.) Anderson was charged with two offenses: Misdemeanor battery and driving within the parkway. Those charges were later dropped.

Benny the Bull (again): On February 12, 2008, Benny slapped palm with the wrong oral surgeon. Dr. Don Kalant, who must be made out of stained glass and peanut brittle, suffered a hyperextended arm and a ruptured bicep muscle when Benny high-fived him during a Bulls home game against the New Orleans Hornets. Kalant bravely stayed for the rest of the game but later had surgery and had to miss about four months of work. Naturally, Kalant sued the Bulls -- who as Benny's employer are legally responsible for his actions -- and is seeking unspecified damages for medical bills, physical pain and lost earnings. The lawsuit claims that Benny was negligent in either "falling forward while grabbing a fan's hand" or "running out of control" through the crowd. And I think you'll agree that out-of-control crowd running is a menace that must be stopped. After all, our country's greatest oral surgeons are in grave danger.

Benny the Bull (yet again): In March of this year, the mascot got into a fight on The Jerry Springer Show. No, really.


Benny the Bull (oh dear lord): On April 1, 2008, Benny sniped Kevin Garnett and James Posey from behind with a t-shirt cannon during the closing minutes of the Celtics/Bulls game. According to the Boston Herald report: "Garnett initially had to be restrained by a member of the officiating crew as Benny stood a safe distance away." Huh. What happens when a mascot pees themselves in terror? I guess we'd have to ask Benny that question. Kudos to Posey for finding some humor in the situation. "I don’t know. I feel threatened. I don’t feel safe. They really have tough love here, but it was definitely an inside job. They made the mascot do it. I got hit in the back walking away. That spot on my back is sore. I might have to get treatment on it." Of course, I'm only assuming he's kidding.

Boomer: On March 11, 2005, the Pacers' mascot tackled Nathaniel Jackson -- who had recently had back surgery -- after a freethrow shooting contest. When a Pacers' employee rushed up and told Boomer about Jackson's back condition, the mascot responded by kicking at Jackson's legs. Naturally, Jackson sued Boomer for compensation for his medical bills, lost income, pain, suffering and "permanent injuries." (For the record, being a Pacers fan is a "permanent injury.")

Burnie: Back in October of 1994, during an exhibition game in Puerto Rico, Burnie pulled Yvonne Gil Bonar de Rebollo onto the court by her legs. Unfortunately for the mascot, Gil Bonar de Rebollo was the wife of a local Supreme Court justice...and she wasn't amused. Burnie was charged with aggravated assault and battery, faced 20 years in jail, and was sued for [insert Dr. Evil laugh here] one meeeellion dollars for emotional distress. The Heat tried to settle out of court for $100,000 but Gil Bonar de Rebollo refused. She was eventually awarded $50,000 (despite repeated appeals). The lesson: Only drag a woman around by her legs if she's a gymnast or a prostitute.

Burnie (again): During Game 5 of the 1997 first-round NBA playoff series between the Miami Heat and Orlando Magic, NBA Hall of Famer Dolph Schayes -- who was about to turn 69 -- got steamed when Burnie blasted him (and the rest of the Orlando Magic's cheering section) with a water gun. Schayes then proceeded to knock the mascot the hell out with a right hook. Which you have to admit is pretty awesome.

Da Bull: Chester Brewer portrayed Da Bull -- who was billed as Benny the Bull's slam-dunking cousin -- for nine years before his arrest on January 20, 2004. Brewer was busted trying to sell wacky weed out of the trunk of his car: The arresting officers found six ounces of marijuana (with a street value of $1,000) on Brewer and a scale in his trunk. Brewer, who wasn't dressed as a bull at the time of his arrest, was charged with possession of cannabis with intent to deliver and/or get veeeeeery high.

Da Bull (a different one): This Da Bull -- the mascot for the Austin Toros -- ran onto the court and hung from the rim with 0.4 seconds left to celebrate a breakaway dunk that gave the Toros a four-point lead over the Colorado 14ers. While hanging from the rim, Da Bull bumped into a Colorado player. (Oh, the humanity!) The Toros were assessed a technical foul for that case of illegal mascot rim-hanging. The 14ers hit the freethrow to pull within three points and narrowly missed sending the game into overtime when their last-second three was off the mark. The Toros suspended Da Bull for two games and assigned him to 50 hours of community service for putting their victory in jeopardy.

HOOPS (or Steve Javie, depending on your point of view): This is from Basketbawful reader 80s NBA: "I remember watching a game in the early 90's when Steve Javie ejected "Hoops", the Washington Bullets mascot. The reason was that Hoops was 'making gestures to incite the Capital Centre crowd against the refs' after Javie ejected Pervis (Never Nervous But Mostly Out Of Service) Ellison from the game for throwing the ball at the other ref." Yup. Good old Steve Javie. I'd like to make some inciting gestures (and flatulence) in his general direction.

Rocky the Mountain Lion: Back in April of 1995, Rocky challenged Charles Barkley to a friendly boxing match. And it didn't end well...for Rocky.


Rocky the Mountain Lion(again): On November 1, 2002, Ken Solomon -- who portrayed the Denver Nuggets mascot -- was arrested for first-degree trespass and harassment resulting in domestic violence. Sheriff's deputies said Solomon arrived unexpectedly at the doctor's office and asked to be present while the doctor saw his children. He and the doctor argued, and Solomon's former wife left with the children. Solomon then followed them to their home and entered the garage before his ex-wife could close the door. I'm not sure how that consitutes "domestic violence," but then I flunked Frivolous Arrest Charges 101 in college.

Labels: legal problems, NBA mascots, Worst Evers

This was brought to my attention by Basketbawful reader Stephanie G and (I have since discovered) has been reported elsewhere (like here, here and here). But I'm going to cover it again because it's so awesomely stupid that it absolutely must be included on any site that covers the best of the worst of professional basketball.

Back in the summer of 2003, Shawn Marion got a tattoo down his right leg in Chinese lettering that was supposedly a translation of his nickname "The Matrix." Only it wasn't. I mean, it really, really wasn't. Hanzi Smatter -- a site dedicated to the misuse of Chinese characters in Western culture -- noted that Shawn's tattoo really means, uh, something else:

魔 = Demon, evil spirits; magic power.

鳥 = Bird.

樟 = Camphor (a plant where its chemical exact is used for making moth balls).

That's right: Shawn Marion is Demon Bird Mothballs. I suggest you sit down and let the awe wash over you in a cool wave.

That's a pretty big misfire. (Although not quite as bad as the chick who had "inferior goods" tramp-stamped on her lower back.) Shawn probably should have consulted with somebody other than the dude at the tattoo parlor before inking his leg. According to Hanzi Smatter, The Matrix (as in the movie) is translated as 黑客帝国 (which means "Hackers' Empire"). And matrix (in the mathematical sense) is translated as 矩陣.

This hilarious mistranslation reminds me of the multicultrual heroes that appeared on the old Challenge of the Super Friends cartoon. Apache Chief, El Dorado, Samuri...these not-so-super characters were created by simply mashing together a few awkward cultural stereotypes. As Seanbaby once pointed out: "Now that I mention it, I don't think [Apache Chief] was Apache or a chief. His name doesn't make any damn sense. That's like putting a white guy on a team of Native Americans and naming him 'Minnesota President.'"

At least Shawn isn't alone. Marquis Daniels has a tattoo that means "Healthy Woman Roof." No, really.

Oh, and if you think think America has a monopoly in cultrual ignorance, I suggest you check out Engrish. Not to perambulate the corridors in the hours of repose in the boots of ascension!

Fun fact: As the Hanzi Smatter pointed out, the tattoo also appears on his action figure.)

Labels: fan submissions, Marquis Daniels, Shawn Marion, tattoos, Worst Evers

Tomorrow is the Fourth of July, a day when you get to celebrate freedom by setting things on fire and blowing them up...just like our founding fathers intended when they won our independence from the Nazis. (Thank you, Abraham Lincoln!) But before you do that, read this. It may not be freedom, but it's the next best thing.

BJ Tyler: According to Wikipedia: "Prior to the 1995-96 NBA season, Tyler was selected by the Toronto Raptors in the 1995 expansion draft. According to journalist Chris Young's book Drive, Tyler accidentally fell asleep with a pack of ice on his knee, severely damaging it and thus losing all the speed for which he was famed, and subsequently had to retire." Yeah, right. He just didn't want to play for the Raptors. Vince Carter feels him on that one. [Thanks to siukong for the head's up.]

Brad Miller: The former Boilermaker Miller needed nine stitches in his right index finger after almost chopping it off with a knife while doing dishes last season...on the same day he was named Western Conference Player of the Week for the second time in his career. Said Miller: "It's the last time I help do dishes." Said teammate Mikki Moore: "When I saw him, it was all wrapped up. So, I said, 'You're going to drop 20 and 20 in two games and then go and cut your knuckle off?' I said, 'That's real smart, Brad.' He said, 'Nah, that's my luck.'" [Thanks to Josh from The Garbagetime All-Stars for the reminder.]

Charles Barkley: Sir Charles has never been easy on the eyes...not even his own. Chuck missed the Phoenix Suns' 1994-95 season opener because the first layers of his corneas got burned off by body lotion during an Eric Clapton concert. Apparently, allergies and the dazzling stage lights caused him to rub his eyes, and he got lotion in them.

Phoenix Suns team doctor, Richard Emerson, said: "It was a chemical reaction to a type of lotion that he uses. I wouldn't anticipate it'll reoccur because I don't think he'll use that type again." No kidding.

Note that Barkley was also suffering from a strained lower abdominal wall at the time. Probably from too many hotdogs at the concert.

Conrad McRae: During the 1998-99 season, the Denver Nuggets signed McRae to a 10-day contract. Contrad, who was unaccustomed to the thin air in the high altitude of Denver, fainted while doing some pre-game sprints. He was treated by paramedics and did not play in that night's game for precautionary reasons.

Sad extra: McRae's fainting caused Denver's medical staff to evaluate him further and discovered that he had a heart condition and advised him that he should not play basketball again. He ignored that advice and died in June 2000 during a basketball practice.

Corey Maggette: During the 2001-02 season, Maggette got so upset over a call that he slammed his hand on the scorer's table in frustration and dislocated the ring and little fingers on his right hand. Maggette ended up with a cast and a four-week vacation.

Dajuan Wagner: He missed missed thirty-five games during his rookie year due to what was thought to be a bladder infection. He missed another thirty-eight games during his sophomore season due to an inflamed pancreas and liver. Then, 11 games into his third season, Wagner started suffering stomach cramps and the doctors thought it was just another bladder infection. Turns out it was colitis, and that's what had been causing all his problems. He had the colon removed and missed another seventy-one games. That was pretty much the end of Dajuan's career; he tried to make a comeback, but his team (the Golden State Warriors) simply bought out his contract. (Note: I started writing this one when I thought it was simply a bladder infection. Then I found out about the colitis and just left it in. Not really a dumn injury, per se.)

Darko Milicic: Ah, Darko, Darko, Darko. He was put in for what was described as a "token" appearance in the Pistons' Game 5 blowout of the Lakers in the 2004 NBA Finals (what we here at Basketbawful like to call the human victory cigar). He played 2 minutes, finishing with 1 rebound, 1 steal, 1 turnover...and 1 broken hand. Oh yes he did. The injury required surgury and sidelines him for eight weeks. (Thanks Harpreet.)

Derrick Coleman: Coleman -- whose NBA career was limited and cut short due to laziness, character issues, a giant fat ass, and, of course, injury problems -- got injured again, only this time it happened while filming an episode of the TV show Pros vs. Joes. DC was participating in a rebounding challenge against some "average joe" when he came down from a jump and landed awkwardly, hurting his always-troublesome knee. This means that Coleman has the dubious distinction of being the first Pro to ever get injured during battle with a Joe.

Derrick Rose: The Bulls rookie was forced to miss some practice time because, get ready for it, he cut himself under the elbow on his left forearm. In bed. From a knife he used to slice an apple. Said Rose: "Silly accident this morning. I went to get a bottle of water, forgot the knife was there and sat down and sliced my arm. I panicked when it first happened. I called [Bulls trainer Fred Tedeschi]. We got it stitched up about 8 [a.m.]. It was a large wound, but they healed it up. I'm good. I could have practiced, but they told me to wait until [today]. I can still dribble, shoot, do all that stuff. I'm hoping they'll let me play."

Of course, a lot of people are already questioning what "really" happened, since Rose's story sounds too bizarre to be true (kind of like the time I got run over by a horse while riding my bike). But, in my experience, it's the weird stories that totally ARE true. And Rose isn't worried about what other people think. "It's the truth, so I'm not worried about [people not believing him]. I called my mom, and she was like, what are you doing? It was just a freak accident. I was very scared. I'm going to get somebody else to cut [the apple]. I'm not cutting it no more." Ah, to live in a world where, after a freak apple-cutting accident, you can respond not by simply being more careful next time, but by hiring someone to peel apples for you for the rest of your life. Awesome.

Dirk Nowitzki: In December 2001, before a game against the Washington Wizards, The Flying Dutchman sprained a tendon in his ankle when he put his shoe on improperly and the stomped his foot on the floor to make sure it was on right. The injury was so bad he missed the game. He must have been one sour Kraut when that happened. Good thing there weren't any exercise bikes around.

Drew Gooden: In March of 2004, Gooden -- then with the Orlando Magic -- was hospitalized with what was thought to be a spider bite. Turns out it was a MRSA infection resulting from infected hair follicles on his leg. The infection was repeatedly drained and he needed three days of intravenous drug treatment.

I know it's tempting to laugh about this, but MRSA is a dangerous antibiotic-resistant infection that has been dubbed "the Superbug" in England. So if somebody you know gets a leg hair infection, do not laugh at them. Okay, you can laugh a little bit.

Dwyane Wade: I'm not saying the man wasn't hurt -- he was hurt really badly -- but people (like me) are still wondering why he needed to be taken off the court in a wheelchair for a shoulder injury. I guess the leg bone is connected to the arm bone...

Eddy Curry: E-City had to miss a game due to a badly sprained left ankle suffered at...a walk-through at his team's morning shoot-around. Nope. I'm not kidding. Said teammate Malik Rose: "How do you explain something like that?" Good question. A very good question.

Eddy Curry (again): Speaking of good questions, here's another: Can a player suffer a more embarrassing injury than spraining his ankle during a walk-through? Well, the answer is "yes" my friends. From the New York Daily News: "Poor Eddy Curry. He sat on the giant blue physioball during a break from Monday's practice and the ball exploded. Eddy fell and scraped and his wrist but should be okay. The ball, which is used for stretching exercises, was pronounced dead at the scene." This also answers the classic "How do you know when you're too fat?" question. I thought those balls were indestructible.

Francisco Garcia: He broke his arm...on a physioball. No, really. At least he wasn't so fat it exploded on him...

George McCloud: Prior to Game 3 of the 1992 first round playoff series between the Indiana Pacers and the Boston Celtics, McCloud "held his ankle in a funny way" while talking on the phone. This somehow injured the ankle so badly he couldn't play in the game and had to sit on the bench in street clothes as his team got eliminated. [Thanks to 80s NBA for the reminder; this was actually one of my painful Pacers playoff moments.]

Gilbert Arenas: File this one under "unfortunate pube shaving accidents." Very unfortunate. I'll let Agent Zero tell the tale: "When I was new in the NBA the team veterans convinced me to shave, you know, down there, because they said the hair stinks. I used my girlfriend's razor, which was rusty and gave me keloids. The doctor prescribed medicine to dab on, but I just poured it all over. Three days later I woke up screaming. The skin was burnt off my scrotum, down to my crack, everything -- just raw flesh. I still had to run and play, so I used a numbing spray for a month until it healed. Now I use clippers." I bet he does. [Thanks to The Brazilian Guy for this one.]

Greg Oden: You know that microfracture surgery that ended Oden's rookie season before it had even begun? It happened while he was getting up off the couch.

Greg Ostertag: You know we love Greg Ostertag around these parts, and this is one of the reasons why: The big goof fractured the third metacarpal on his right hand in October of 2004 when he tripped on a footstool while getting out of bed. Mind you, this happened after his first day of practice with his new team, the Sacramento Kings.

Jeff Ruland: After the 1985-86 season, the Philadelphia 76ers decided to flush their future down the toilet by trading the first pick in the NBA draft -- which became Brad Daugherty -- to Cleveland for Roy Hinson. Since that didn't do nearly enough damage, they also sent Moses Malone to Washington in exchange for Ruland. Moses went on to average 24 PPG and 11 RPG for the Bullets, while Ruland played only five games for the Sixers before getting sidelined with a variety of foot and knee injuries.

Ruland was out of action for five years but attempted to return for the 1991-92 season. However, the comeback ended because of...a luggage cart. Yes, a luggage cart, which was (allegedly) rammed into Ruland's leg by a Celtics employee as he waited for a team bus outside Boston Garden. (It should be noted that Ruland was not a popular in Boston, and he was even nicknamed "McNasty" by the Celtics' late great broadcaster Johnny Most.)

Said Ruland: "I got run over by a luggage cart. That's hard to swallow. It can't be accidental, they were moving too fast. Whoever could foresee anything like this happening?"

John Starks: Oh my God. I've been laughing about this one for about five minutes. Thank you, Sturla, for bringing this joy back into my life. (Although I'm sure Starks would punch me for it.) Back in 2001, Starks suffered -- wait for it...wait for it -- a twisted testicle! No, I am not making this up. The scientific term for this is testicular torsion, and it happens when the spermatic cord that provides the blood supply to a testicle is twisted, cutting off the blood supply, often causing orchalgia (that is, intense pain in the nutsack). Prolonged testicular torsion will result in the death of the testicle and surrounding tissues. Starks had to undergo a procedure to "open up and untwist the testicle." Ouch.

Kendrick Perkins: Boston's big man missed time last season due to a right big toe that was injured when he dropped a bed on it. "I was asleep. I guess whoever put my bed together didn't put it together right when I moved, so one side of my bed fell. My bed was tilted, so I got out of my bed to go push down on the other side. And when I was about getting ready to push down on the other side, the headboard started coming in. So I tried to push the headboard back so it wouldn't fall over. My foot was under the bed and the other side of the bed fell on my foot." Man, I hate it when that happens.

Kevin Johnson: During the mid-90s, KJ won a regular season game on a buzzer-beating shot and received a crippling bear hug from teammate Charles Barkley. And I mean "crippling" in the literal sense. Chuck squeezed Kevin so hard his shoulder was dislocated. (At least Barkley didn't rub any body lotion in KJ's eyes.) Unlike Dwyane Wade, Kevin didn't have to be carted off teh court in a wheelchair, but he was out of action for the next two weeks. KJ also had hernia surgery in 1996 after years of abdominal problems that were allegedly brought on by picking up teammate Oliver Miller to celebrate a play.

Kobe Bryant: He hurt his back. Vacuuming. But he says it's because of vacuum size discrimination. Seriously. Watch the video. [Thanks to rich muhlach for this one.]

Larry Bird: In the fall of 1988, Bird was attempting a comeback from dual-Achilles surgery when he permenantly injured in his back. How? He was undercut by Michael Jordan, who then fell on Bird...in the Kenny Rogers Charity Basketball Tournament in Kentucky. According to his second autobiography, Bird Watching: On Playing and Coaching The Game I Love, Bird said: "We were in the final minutes of this charity basketball game when I went up for a rebound and came down a little sideways. Michael Jordan was going for the ball too, and he landed on my back. Right away I knew I was in trouble. I had torn additional portions of the disc wall, and my back was really traumatized. I didn't know it then, all the way back in 1989, but that was the beginning of the end…I never came all the way back." Yet another reason I hate Michael Jordan.

Latrell Sprewell: The man who once choked his coach broke his hand by taking a swing at the boyfriend of a female party guest who threw up on his yacht. But it seems that Spree's punches were roughly as accurate as his jumpers (42 percent lifetime): He whiffed and punched the wall instead. Sprewell tried to cover up the incident, but some of his guests leaked the story and the Knicks fined Spree $250,000 for not reporting the injury. Sprewell, ever the victim, complained about it to the press. "They talk about being a family but they're not sticking with me. The biggest thing to me is that I'm hurt. So don't kick me when I'm down." But...but that's the best time to kick somebody!

Lionel Simmons: The L-Train was an absolutely amazing basketball player. In college. He finished third in all-time NCAA scoring with 3,217 points, trailing only only Pete Maravich and Freeman Williams. He also won both the Naismith College Player of the Year award and the John R. Wooden Award. His NBA career, on the other hand, was barely more than decent. But Lionel's greatest contribution to the pro game was the injury he suffered during the 1990-91 season: He missed two games with wrist tendonitis caused by overtraining on his Nintendo Game Boy. I can only hope he defeated King Koopa and saved the Princess.

Note that, a year later, Derrick McKey missed seven games with the same injury. Uh huh. Mind you, this is the same player for whom I created the term flu-like symptoms, so you'll excuse me if I remain suspicious.

Luc Longley: During the 1996-97 season, the Bulls lost Longley's services for seven weeks after he got hurt body surfing. Yeah. Luc was body-surfing off the coast of Los Angeles coast when an unexpectedly strong wave drove him shoulder-first into the ocean floor and knocked his clavicle and shoulder out of place.

Michael Jordan: Yep, even MJ has a place on this list. Although he was already kinda sorta unofficially retired (again), Jordan severed a tendon in his right index finger (i.e., on his shooting hand) while using a cigar cutter in January 1999. Officially listed as a "a laceration of the flexor tendon," Jordan needed surgery to repair it and six weeks of occupational therapy to rehabilitate it.

Monta Ellis: Shortly after inking a six-year, $66 million dollar contract extension, Ellis torpedoed Golden State's 2008-09 season when he tore a ligament in his left ankle and sustained a high-ankle sprain in a "low-speed" mo-ped accident. So not only did he screw his team over, he lost serious Man Points for getting injured not only on a mo-ped...but while driving said mo-ped at low speeds. Oh, the fail.

Moochie Norris: In March of 1999, Moochie -- who was given his nickname by his grandfather, who loved the Cab Calloway song Minnie the Moocher -- asked his team (the Seattle SuperSonics) to put him on the injured list because of insomnia. Apparently, Mooch had suffered from insomnia since his mother had died of cancer in 1989, and he (supposedly) only got about two hours of sleep on most nights. The Sonics weren't fond of that excuse, so a few days later they waived Moochie to make room for John Crotty. Yes, John Crotty.

Mo Williams: Mo missed a game against the Pacers last season with pubic symphysitis. (Editor's note: That's an injury to the pubic symphysis, which is a cartilaginous joint above the man region.) I have no idea how you injure this sensitive joint, but surgically cutting it allows more of the penis to hang outside the body, thereby increasing its length. I'm not trying to insinuate that Mo had elective surgery to make his dong longer, but...no, actually, that's kind of what I'm insinuating.

Muggsy Bogues: The tiny, tiny man (who was playing for the Toronto Raptors) missed the second half of a game against the Portland Trailblazers after accidentally sucking in some ointment fumes during a halftime treatment. ("Ointment fumes"...so that's what the kids are calling it these days? I guess I should double-check with Josh Howard.) Said Bogues: "Never happened to me before and I hope it never happens again. That was one of those fluke things you don't even dream about."

Rex Chapman: Sexy Rexy (who was playing for the Phoenix Suns) missed five games during the 1998-99 season with turf toe. Which is also known as a metatarsalphalangeal joint sprain, in case you're so bored you were actually wondering. I guess that sort of explains why he used to just run from three-point line to three-point line.

Ron Artest: Ron-Ron threw his back out of whack...driving his wife's Mercedes. This is apparently what happens when you stuff an extra-large body into an extra-small space.

Ruben Patterson: This entry harkens back to 2003, during Portland's infamous "Jail Blazer" era. Patterson ended up with a shiny black eye thanks to a five-knuckeled "hello" from teammate Zach Randolph. Patterson, who earlier that season had been arrested on suspicion of domestic assault, was arguing with Qyntel Woods, who himself had been recently cited by Portland police on marijuana possession charges after a traffic stop, when Randolph stepped in and sucker-punched Patterson. While, it should be noted, Patterson was being restrained by teammates. Nice, huh? Patterson then promised not to retaliate...until his probation expired in May (it was April at the time). Good times all around. (Thanks to Dunpizzle.)

Scott Williams: While playing for the Chicago Bulls during the Michael Jordan-less 1993-94 season, Williams had a string of bizarre injuries. First, he missed four days of practice after straining his shoulder at the team's annual bowling outing. A few days later, he hurt his back lifting a TV he bought on sale. Then, later in the season, he injured a tendon behind his right kneecap while stretching, and that was the end of his season. That kind of injury proneness would make even Bill Walton wince.

Tony Allen: He blew out his knee -- tearing both the anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) and medial collateral ligament (MCL) -- while trying to throw one down after the whistle had blown. That's a direct message from the Basketball Gods, and it can be interpreted as: "Thou shalt not showboat, mortal fool!" Oh, and the worst part (as several people have pointed out)? He blew the dunk. Video below. [You can thank LooseChange and her amazing brain for this one.]


Vladimir Radmanović: In February of 2007, Radmanović separated his shoulder falling on a patch of ice in Park City, Utah. Or so he claimed. But a few days later, Radmanović admitted that he had actually hurt himself in a fall while snowboarding. Said the Radman: "The truth is that I hurt myself in a fall while snowboarding. Being young and sometimes immature, I initially panicked and made up a false story about how I hurt myself. However, over the past few days my conscience has been bothering me terribly. I am not a dishonest person and could no longer live with this deception. Therefore, I came forward today and told the truth to the Lakers." Mind you, his contract specifically banned him from taking part in activities that involve significant risk of injury, including skiing and snowboarding. The space cadet was fined $500,000 for his stupidity. [Many thanks to plonden for jogging my memory on this one.]

Labels: Charles Barkley, Derrick McKey, Drew Gooden, Dwyane Wade, Greg Ostertag, injuries, Jeff Ruland, Kevin Johnson, Lionel Simmons, Moochie Norris, Muggsy Bogues, Vladimir Radmanovic, Worst Evers

Some people believe that anybody who becomes a professional basketball players is worthy of a certain amount of respect and admiration. I disrespectfully disagree. There are five former players whose "careers" are, in my estimation, deserving only of mockery, which I will provide in the following paragraphs. Because these men, these titans of disrepute, all logged exactly one minute of NBA action...ever.

Andy Panko and Cedric Hunter: Panko -- born Andrew John Panko III -- was a 6'9" forward out of Lebenon Valley College. Hunter was a 6'0" guard from the University of Kansas. These two men, so different in so many ways, were united by one ignominious feat: They scored a one trillion...for their entire career. Panko's one minute of career nothingness was achieved on January 11, 2001 against the Golden State Warriors (Panko played for the Hawks, appropriately enough). Hunter's meaningless 60 seconds of lifework happened on February 16, 1992 against the Miami Heat (Hunter was a member of the Charlotte Hornets). I have repeatedly used the one trillion as a means of describing a player's complete and utter statistical insignificance. Notching a trillion here or there is one thing, but having a "career" that is a one trillion? It's so sad it's awesome.

Barry Sumpter: Barry was a 6'11" foward-center out of, uh, Austin Peay State University? (Yes, it's a real place.) But, to be fair, after one season at APSU, he transferred to Louisville where he promptly became not as good. But he still managed to sign a one-year, $100,000 contract with -- prepare to be very not surprised -- the Los Angeles Clippers for the 1988-89 season. He played his minute on April 2, 1989 against the soon-to-be NBA champion Detroit Pistons. Unlike Panko and Hunter, Barry managed to at least get off a shot...which he missed. His infamous career ended 0-for-1 and zero-for-everything else. Unless you count his PER score of -30.2.

Forest Able: Forest Edward Able -- also known as "Frosty" -- was a 6'3" guard out of Western Kentucky University. Frosty "played" for the Syracuse Nationals during the 1956-57 season, and he packed a lot of activity into his one minute of lack-tion: 2 shots (both of which he missed), 1 rebound, 1 assist and 1 personal foul. So, you know, he tried (even if he did fail in epic fashion). His career PER of -41.3 is enough to make stat-heads weep.

Dave Scholz: Mr. Scholz -- whose nickname of "Dave" was a stroke of inspired genius -- the "greatest" player in this group, in that he's the only one who actually scored two points on 1-for-1 shooting. This means that he shot 100 percent for his career and averaged an incredible 96 points per 48 minutes. Oh, and his career Player Efficiency Rating (PER) of 67.6 is more than double Michael Jordan's 27.91. So, according to John Hollinger's stats, Dave Scholz may be the best basketball player in NBA history.

Labels: one trillion, Worst Evers

Bill Robinzine was a 6'7" forward out of DePaul University who played seven seasons (1975–1982) in the NBA for the Kansas City Kings, Cleveland Cavaliers, Dallas Mavericks, and Utah Jazz. He averaged 10 PPG and 6 RPG, and he appeared in only eight playoff games (all for the Kings). So chances are, you've never heard of him. But if you have heard of him, it's probably not for anything he accompished in his career. Unless you consider surviving a brutal posterization to be an "accomplishment."

In November 1979, Darryl "Chocolate Thunder" Dawkins dunked on Robinzine with such matchless seismicity that the backboard freaking exploded, sending Robinzine scampering away like a 10-year-old girl who just watched her pet kitten "Nibbles" get eaten alive by bullet ants.

To add insult to Bill's ego-ectomy, Dawkins named the dunk "Chocolate Thunder Flying, Glass Flying, Robinzine Crying, Babies Crying, Glass Still Flying, Catch Crap, Rump Roasting, Bun Toasting, Thank You, Wham, Bam, I Am Jam." Because nothing eases the pain of a savage facial quite like having your terrified retreat immortalized in a 25-word dunk name.

Here's a fun little video tribute to the event.


Fun fact: Chocolate Thunder was inventing dunk names waaaaay before NBA Street was doing it. Here are some of his best: the Rim Wrecker, the Go-Rilla, the Look Out Below, the In-Your-Face Disgrace, the Cover Your Head, the Yo-Mama, and the Spine-Chiller Supreme.

Labels: Bill Robinzine, Darryl Dawkins, Poster Boy Classics, shattered backboards

Trent Tucker Rule (trent tuk'-uhr rool) noun. The NBA rule that disallows any standard shot (specifically a "catch and shoot" attempt) to be taken if the ball is put into play with less than three-tenths of a second left on the game clock.

Usage example: There's only one-tenth of a second left. According to the Trent Tucker Rule, that means there isn't enough time left to catch the ball and shoot it.

Word history: Most astute NBA fans are aware of this rule, but there are still plenty of people who don't know why it was originally created. The rule was conceived (although nobody knew it at the time) on January 15, 1990 during a game between the Chicago Bulls and New York Knicks at Madison Square Garden. The score was tied at 106 with one-tenth of a second left in regulation and the Knicks had possession of the ball. During a time-out called by the Knicks, both teams prepared for the (seemingly) inevitable final play: An alley-oop lob pass to Patrick Ewing.

Knicks coach Stu Jackson designed the play so that Trent Tucker would act as a decoy to draw Michael Jordan out to the perimeter and open up a lane for Patrick Ewing to receive the pass. But according to Tucker: "Michael read the play, which took away our number one option. We really didn't have a number two option because we were (only) one-tenth of a second, and we didn't have a lot of time."

When play resumed, Mark Jackson -- who was inbounding the ball for New York -- saw that the Bulls had the play covered, so he inbounded the ball to Tucker, the only open player. Tucker turned and hit a three-pointer at the buzzer, propelling the Knicks to a 109-106 victory. This is how Tucker described the final play: "Mark gave me a flip, and I shot the ball as quickly as I could. Scottie Pippen's hand met my hand as the ball left. When it went in, the Garden went crazy and we took off of the court. Phil Jackson (the Bulls' coach) was waving, 'No way, no basket.' We ran to the locker room, undressed as quickly as we could and got into the shower to make sure that they (the officials) wouldn't call us back on the floor. In our minds, the game is over."

It wasn't over for the Bulls, though. Phil Jackson, typically, was incensed. He argued vehemently that it was impossible to get a shot off in that amount of time. "A second or two, maybe. But in one-tenth of a second it can't be done. You can't shoot a shot in that time. The officials are still getting adjusted to the tenths of a second.'' Then, in true Zing Master style, he put in a final jab: "It was a judgment call. They just got a friendly call and let's leave it at that." Ah, the more things change, the more they don't...

Anyway, Jackson and the Bulls decided not to just "leave it at that." They filed an official protest with the NBA -- which cost them $1,500, by the way -- in an attempt to have the shot overturned. Had they won the protest, the teams would have had to replay the final tenth of a second and (if necessary) play one or more overtime periods to conclude the game.

It didn't matter. NBA commissioner David Stern denied their appeal. (Come on...he's always been a New York guy!) Stern admitted that Tucker's shot came well after time had expired but said that, according to league rules, the commissioner can uphold a protest only in cases in which a playing rule has been violated or misapplied. But in the case of the game in question, Stern "pointed out with legalistic exactitude" that no rules were violated; the officials simply started the clock too late, giving Tucker the time he needed to attempt the shot.

Said the Commish: "The question before me is not whether Trent Tucker received Mark Jackson's pass and released his shot within one-tenth of second. Plainly, he did not. The question presented by Chicago's protest, rather, is whether the referees' failure to disallow Tucker's shot constitutes a sufficient basis for overturning the result of the game. The NBA has consistently denied protest based on errors in judgment by the game officials." Again, the more things change, the more they don't...

Even though he slapped down the Bulls' protest, Stern announced that from that point forward, if the ball is put into play with less than three-tenths of a second on the clock, "any shot other than a tip-in or an alley-oop must be disallowed." And thus the Trent Tucker Rule was born.

But the new rule could not erase Tucker's accomplishment. Or his joy over it. "It's the greatest shot I ever made. I just caught the ball and flung it. When the ball left my hands, I knew it was on target. What I didn't know was whether it had the distance. When it went in, I thought to myself, 'not bad for a guy who was supposed to be a decoy on the play."

Further reading: The official NBA rulebook states that: "NO LESS THAN :00.3 must expire on the game clock when a player secures possession of an inbounds pass and then attempts a field goal. If less than :00.3 expires in such a situation, the timer will be instructed to deduct AT LEAST :00.3 from the game clock. If less than :00.3 remain on the game clock when this situation occurs, the period is over, and the field goal attempt will be disallowed immediately whether successful or unsuccessful." You can read more if you follow the link, but that's the gist of it. You can also go to Hoopedia for a detailed description of how the rule is implemented.

Update! Mighty Science, with help from Jason Kapono and his beautiful hair, has proven that it is in fact possible to catch and shoot with less than three-tenths of a second. And here's the video to prove it. (But don't expect a rule change any time soon.) Thanks to Basketbawful reader herman for the link.

Labels: buzzer beaters, Chicago Bulls, David Stern, NBA History, NBA rules, New York Knicks, Phil Jackson, trent tucker, Word of the Day