While you are recovering from your Livin' Large hangover, here are a few Bawfulitos that are worth mentioning:

• Remember kids: If you work hard and stay in school, you may someday live next door to the $3 million dollar Los Angeles summer villa owned by one of the worst draft picks in league history. Only because you're his personal gardener.

• The WNBA is making a comeback! Not only is scoring is at an all-time "high", there was an actual dunk sighting during last week's WNBA All Star Game! Also, last year's champs, the Detroit Shock, were invited to The White House, presumably for the unveiling of Barack Obama's "Cash for Boredom" stimulus package.

• Apparently, when an exhibition game between Canada and Italy is described as "friendly", that means there is a very good chance that someone will get punched in the back of the head.

• In a case of epic superdickery, Richard Jefferson broke up with his fiancee just days before their wedding. Via e-mail no less! But this shouldn't come as much of a surprise. Anyone who's followed the Bucks or Nets knows that RJ has been mailing it in for years.

• Blue-chipper Mark Madsen is stuck in the middle of a domain name theft investigation, after paying $111,000 for the stolen domain name P2P.com on Ebay. Some news stories are describing Madsen's involvement as "a good faith purchaser" of the stolen goods. Very similar to how the Timberwolves were "good faith purchasers" of talentless goods back in 2005.

• Starbury has discovered the internets. Things do not go well.

Labels: fights, Kwame Brown, Mark Madsen, Richard Jefferson, Stephon Marbury, WNBA

Henry Abbott mentioned this week's WNBA posts on TrueHoop yesterday. In the same article, a TrueHoop reader provides a list of 10 reasons to why we (with "we" being pretty much everybody) are idiots for not watching WNBA games. Go check it out.

Now, the comment I found particularly interesting was the one in which Henry suggested that Basketbawful had "lost the moral high ground, perhaps, when it later called for WNBA games to be played in skin-tight outfits for the amusement of lusty fans."

Have you ever noticed that almost every conversation about the WNBA's lack of popularity eventually transforms into a discussion of morality, human dignity and gender equality? Not that these concepts aren't worth discussing, but at least with regards to Evil Ted's "let's dress 'em pretty" post, they miss the point. Allow me to elaborate. I live in Chicago. As such, I try to attend as many Bulls games as my time and personal finances allow. Let me describe that experience for you:

I get to see the Luvabulls dancers -- described on the team Web site as "beautiful, talented and articulate women" -- expose large sections of their anatomy and gesticulate in ways that prominently display their breasts and behinds. Sometimes while wearing suggestive, lingerie-like clothing. For instance:


I am forced (rather against my will) to endure the sight of the Matadors -- a group of dancing fat men -- expose large sections of their anatomy and gesticulate in ways that prominently display their breasts and behinds. Sometimes while wearing suspenders and funny hats. For instance:


Then there's the Swingin' Seniors "entertainment team," a group of older women dressed up in Bulls jerseys who sing and dance. There's also the BullzKidz, a group of teens who run around and act really superduper excited (the tagline: "Energy in a small package!"). The Junior Luvabulls are basically miniature versions of the actual Luvabulls, only they're little girls in short skirts instead of bigger girls (relatively speaking) in even shorter skirts. The IncrediBulls wear McDonald's logos ("I'm lovin' it!"), perform gymnastics and fire t-shirts into the crowd. And, of course, their are those brave men who dress up like stuffed and/or inflatable animals to dance, fight and appear on the Jerry Springer Show.

There are also a variety of "fan interactive events," where, for instance, people from the crowd spin around on the tip of a baseball bat until they're dizzy enough to throw up and then try to shoot a layup without falling down. ONLY THEY ALWAYS FALL DOWN. To the crowd's delight, of course. Other fans compete in a nightly sing-off to win fabulous prizes, like a McDonald's Big Mac, only they usually sing so poorly and off key that the whole experience becomes a study in public humiliation. And, of course, I've already described my halftime of horror, in which I was introduced to Duo Design, a "strength and hand-balancing act from Warsaw, Poland." Basically, it's two topless guys in ass-hugging tights and gold body paint doing gymnastics -- slow, sweaty gymnastics -- off each other's bodies. No, really.


But keep in mind that these are simply sideshows to the real event, in which muscular male athletes, dressed in shorts and tank tops, sprint up and down a 94-by-50-foot court, leaping high into the air and playing games with an inflatable ball purely for the purposes of our entertainment. Dunk the ball! Dunk for me, puppets!

Here's the point: The NBA is, first and foremost, a business. As such, they willingly exploit their players, their hired entertainers and their fans in any and every way they can in order to make money. It would be great if professional sports could exist solely for the sake of the sports themselves, but they cannot. They provide goods (the players) and services (entertaining games), and if those things cannot be sold, the business will fail. It's that simple. That's why certain players (like, say, Mario West) are largely ignored while other players (such as Kobe Bryant) are repeatedly exploited.

Seriously, Kobe Bryant is the most exploited basketball player of our time. His team exploits him ("Come see Kobe Bryant take on the Spurs!"), opposing teams exploit him ("Come see Kobe Bryant try to beat your team...maybe he'll even score 81 points!"), sports writers and bloggers exploit him because any article or post about Kobe will cause an almost immediate spike in readership.

That's the reality of it. Human dignity is a noble goal, to be sure, but it didn't keep NBA's Hoop Magazine from airbrushing the tattoos right off of Allen Iverson's body, nor did it prevent David Stern from instituting a dress code to try and prevent the league's mostly white, middle class fan base from associating its players with rap artists and criminals. Back in the 50s and 60s, both professional and college basketball tried to discourage and even outlaw the slam dunk. But when the people in power figured out that the dunk both amazed and delighted the fans -- drawing them in even bigger, higher-paying numbers -- they decided to exploit the hell out of it.

The WNBA is a business, just like the NBA. To my knowledge, that business has never been able to turn a profit, yet it still exists, mostly because of the persistent support of David Stern and the immense wealth of its brother league. The WNBA formed in 1996 and has operated in deficit spending ever since. How many business could survive like that? Could any other business that exists solely for the entertainment of its audience remain doggedly the same, changing nothing, and yet convince shareholders and investors to continue flushing away millions of dollars per year because there are various moral and ethical reasons to keep trying to entertain people in a certain way? I highly doubt it.

Look, Evil Ted's suggestion was callous and exploitative. But really, take a closer look at the NBA experience I described above and ask yourself whether that suggestion is really any more callous and exploitative than the many ways the NBA is sold to its consumers. I honestly don't think it is. It's just idea that might get more people to purchase the WNBA product. And that's simply good business.

Update! Henry responds with a thoughtful post. One last note on this subject: I do think it's unfortunate that people often get treated like cattle so that a business can make money. I see it happen at my Clark Kent job all the time. I see it happen in beauty magazines. I see it happen at Burger King. I think many organizations have to disconnect their kindess and sympathy in order to do business. I don't think it's necessarily right, or conducive for making a better world, but that's capitalism for you.

Labels: Chicago Bulls, exploitation, moral high ground, TrueHoop, WNBA

After seeing Bawful's post about the world's general lack of respect for the WNBA, I was reminded of my own ponderings on this issue.

Sometimes a solution is so obvious that it's not obvious at all. That appears to be the case in the "How do we make the WNBA popular?" conundrum. Is the NBA not advertising the WNBA enough? Uhm, no. I, Evil Ted, am very aware of the existence of the WNBA and have seen tons of TV ads for it, such as:


You could play these ads during every commercial break on every TV show on every channel. You could play them during the Super Bowl. You could tattoo the WNBA logo on Janet Jackson's boob during the halftime show. You could put it on the backstop greenscreen during the last out of the World Series. Hell, you could even paste the face of every female pro basketball player on the hood of every car in Nascar. But people aren't going to watch women's basketball unless there's an angle. And that angle will NEVER be that they play with the same skill and athleticism as men. It just won't. And I'm not being sexist here, or saying that there aren't plenty of women who could thoroughly kick my ass in a game of one-on-one. This is pure branding I'm talking about.

The solution revealed itself like a devine intervention during the 2008 Beijing Olympics, and it's so obvious, it's almost silly. Did anyone happen to come across the U.S. women's basketball team playing Australia? Well, I did. And gosh darn it if I didn't find myself glued to the telly. Why? because the Australian Women's Olympic team was dressed like this:


I give you...drumroll please...the Australian Opals. Are they the best women's basketball team on Earth? I don't know...and I don't care either. But I'll tell you what, if they're playing on TV in those uniforms, I'll watch them. And if I watch them play, it's inevitable that I'll learn more about them. And if I learn more about them, I might - just might - become a fan.

Frankly, I don’t understand why this hasn’t already been done. I mean, sure, there’s a level of implied sexism. The idea of “Hey, put on this tight outfit and maybe we’ll watch” might be considered a little tawdry. But if those involved in the WNBA are really willing to do anything to expand their fan base, how can they not explore this option? Is it such a big deal to change the uniforms to something more flattering of the female form? And who decided women basketball players need to dress like the men anyway? I think the current outfits make the women look like…well…men. So now you've got players who look like men, but don't play as well as men. This not only puts off potential male fans, but might even be anathema to young girls, many of whom want to be princesses and ballerinas when they grow up.

That's right. I said anathema. Deal with it.

There are certainly ways to spin the change – but a press release stating that “the new outfits are more streamlined, making players more aerodynamic, and the tight fabric eliminates shirt-grabbing fouls” would be comedic and needless. So don’t bother coming up with any reasoning at all, WNBA. Just do it, as Nike would say. The uniforms are tasteful enough to keep from offending the average female fan, but provocative enough to entice the average man. At least give a guy a reason to start watching, and that may be enough to improve the league’s popularity by default.

Here's a taste of how women's basketball should look. And with high definition - the greatest invention on Earth - I can guarantee you'll be watching, gents.

Labels: tight unis, WNBA

This isn't (necessarily) meant to be a statement on the relative worth and follow-ability of the WNBA, but this "press clipping" is from Friday's print edition of the Chicago Sun Times. The WNBA Finals section -- if you could even call it that -- was crammed down at the bottom of the page, below things like High School Girls Golf and among various advertisements for happy-ending massage parlors and escort services. Ouch.

Don't tell them I sent you...
This was underscored by a comment Evil Ted made this morning upon his return from a High School Reunion/Guy Trip. "I went into a Buffalo Wild Wings with some friends and there was playoff baseball on three out of the four giant projection screen TVs. The fourth screen was playing a basketball game, and the first thing I noticed was SAN ANTONIO 14, DETROIT 6. I was like "Whoa, what's going on here?" and got a little excited. Then I looked up and saw breasts and long hair tied into buns and thought, "Oh, that's what's going on..."

Oh, and in case you didn't know it -- I'm guessing you probably didn't -- the Detroit Shock swept the San Antonio Silver Stars to win their third WNBA title in six years. There was not a single note about this event in the Chicago Sun Times this morning. There was, however, a large section devoted to middle school volleyball and a feature on the disappearing habitat of the Venus flytrap.

Question for Pistonsgirl4life: Does this latest title change your feelings about Bill Laimbeer as a coach? Discuss.

More like, "Shock 'em with some press coverage."
Update! Basketbawful reader Baguete said: "Its also important to say that the game wasnt played at Auburn Hills, due some Disney On Ice event. The game was played at Eastern Michigan University instead." He's not kidding. But hey, Ypsilanti -- where EMU is located -- has been good to the Shock. They won both of their "home" playoff games against New York at EMU's convention center.

Labels: Chicago Sun Times, press coverage, respect, WNBA

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

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

Since Statbuster was covering the draft, I decided to turn my attention to the speed, athleticism and sheer beauty of the WNBA. It did not disappoint.

Katie Douglas: The former Boilermaker scored 18 points for her team. Unfortunately, it took her 20 shots to get there. A 5-for-20 shooting line isn't good. Even by WNBA standards. And her misdirected shooting -- she lead her team in shot attempts, by the way -- was largely responsible for the Fever's triple-overtime loss to the Liberty. But hey, look at the bright side: She had only the second-worst +/- score on the team (-10).

Alison Bales and Sherill Baker: These Indiana reserves showed why they should be lacquered to the bench. Bales' one lonely rebound saved her from a four trillion, and Baker earned a Mario for her 45 seconds of nothingness.

Connecticut Sun: New England's finest (female basketball players) started the game like a fire that had recently been extinguished, scoring only 7 points in the first quarter (which, sadly, was only their second-lowest single-quarter output of the season). They shot only 32 percent for the game as starters Lindsay Whalen, Barbara Turner and Amber Hold combined to shoot 2-for-16. Add to that the nine bricked freethrows and the 16 turnovers (to only 10 assists), and the team had good reason to weep (except big girls don't cry...or so I've heard).

Detroit's fourth quarter: The Shock scored 6 points in the fourth. Wait...6 points?! It's wrong for men to hit women, but I bet Bill Laimbeer sure felt like doing it. (Not that he really needs a reason to feel like hitting someone.)

Damned evil pie: Seimone Augustus ate some pie -- presumably not baked by her -- during a pregame meal...and it threw a barf party in her stomach. Augustus' tummy was aching so badly by halftime that the Minnesota training staff said she was doubtful for the second half. But it was "pie," not "die," so Augustus returned to score 12 of her team-high 23 points in the final two quarters to lead the Lynx over the Monarchs 80-76. But the experience has left a lasting scar that may never fully heal. "I'll never eat another piece of pie before I come to the game. There was no way I was going to stay out of the game. With a game like this and so much on the line as far as playoff position, I wasn't going to miss too many minutes." That's one tuff grrl, eh?

The San Antonio Stars' bench: The Stars lost 77-71 to the Houston Comets last night despite the fact that all five of their starters scored in double-figures. But that was because their bench barely added a figure. The reserves contributed 2 points (1-for-10), 3 rebounds, 1 assist, 1 turnover, and 7 fouls in about 28 minutes of lack-tion. Of course, you probably can't blame the bench for the fact that San Antonio let Houston shoot 56 percent from the field...

Bizarre promotions: The Stars hosted "Hoops Hound Night" last night. I will now let the jokes for naturally of their own accord.


Crazy Eccentric fans: I really hope this isn't true...


I have only one word for this: Hot. That Becky is one, uh, lucky girl.


Chicago Sky: The sky truly is the limit for the women of the Windy City. There literally is no upper limit to how much they can suck. Their next-to-last-in-the-league record - second only to Atlanta's 0-13 mark - fell to 3-9 after an 89-79 home loss to the Phoenix Mercury. The loss was made possible in part by 35 percent shooting (28-for-80), eight missed foul shots, and 17 turnovers. But I'll say this for the ladies: They sure did hit the boards. The Sky pulled down a franchise record 25 offensive rebounds.

Diana Taurasi, quote machine: The Phoenix forward finished with 16 points, 9 assists, and a healthy dose of incredulity regarding her team's meek surrender on the offensive glass. "They had 25 [offensive rebounds]? It felt like they had 105. You know what, we're used to getting people world records. But as long as we get the 'W' we don't mind." So by that reasoning if you let somebody eat a kitten or knock over an old lady but you still won, everything would be cool...is that what you're saying, Diana?!

The Cha Cha Slide: Uh. No. (And that's reason #373.)


Washington Mystics: The witches shot 37 percent from the field (and only 31 percent from two-point range). They missed 14 freethrows (13-for-27). They scored only 10 points in the second quarter. And they committed 17 turnovers. But here's the kicker: They won.

Los Angeles Sparks: These ladies had the dubious distinction of losing to the Mystics in overtime, thanks primarily to their three-point clankfest (3-for-12) and 21 turnovers (compared to 16 assists). Oh, and they scored zero points in the overtime session.

Michael Cooper: Can a coach dis his team and throw his starting PG under the bus in two sentences or less? Mr. Cooper thinks so. Said Coop: "It was a horrible game by us. We've got to get us a point guard, somebody who can handle pressure and do all the things that we need her to do." Way to give your girls confidence, coach.

Labels: WNBA, Worst of the Night

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

Were you wondering why the Jerry Stackhouse trade'n waive was red flagged by the NBA, but it's perfectly fine to dust off an assistant coach or a stay-at-home dad to throw into the deal? You weren't the only one.

Candace Parker is leaving college early to play in the WNBA! But if they go three games without a dunk or a wardrobe malfunction, I'm going back to my Fresh Prince reruns.

Patrick Ewing and Hakeem Olajuwon are on their way to becoming 2008 Hall of Fame inductees, but did everyone forget about Jon Koncak? Of course not!

Charles Barkley appeared on the CNN Situation Room and blasted political conservatives, calling them "fake Christians". Ann Coulter would later appear on NBA Inside Stuff and blast the "fake Charles Barkley".

Did you have a lousy Valentine's Day? It could have been much worse.

Labels: bad contracts, bad haircuts, Charles Barkley, conspiracy theories, halftime shows, Jon Koncak, Valentine's Day, WNBA

Kobe Bryant took a page out of Tracy McGrady's book and is using his injured pinky to avoid playing in the All Star Game. That sound you hear is Magic Johnson shaking his head in pity. After all, he played in the All Star Game while terminally ill.

Gregg Popovich is still salty and bitter over the Pau Gasol freebie. Popob*tch says there should be a trade committee that could squash blatantly lopsided trades. I wonder what this committee would have said about the Spurs trading Luis Scola for Sylar from Heroes. Minus the ability to cut open skulls with his mind.

Who would've guessed that referee Bob Delaney was a complete badass?

David Stern shot down Dwight Howard's proposal to raise the rim to 12-feet for this weekend's Slam Dunk Contest. Still no word on Big Head Mode or whether three consecutive buckets will cause a player to burst into flames.

Stephon Marbury will miss the rest of the season with season-ending ankle surgery. The Knicks are 15 and 37. I wouldn't say he'll be missing it, Bob.

Latrell Sprewell is flat broke. I guess he really did have a family to feed.

A commercial for WNBA Live 2008. It's as awesome as it sounds.

Labels: dunks, Dwight Howard, gratuitous video game references, Gregg Popovich, Kobe Bryant, Latrell Sprewell, referees, Stephon Marbury, WNBA