First off, a big shout-out to my company for deciding to unblock Blogger so I can post from my job. Sometimes brown does work for you.
It's October, which is a sports lover's dream month--the NFL is in full swing as are the baseball playoffs, so some thoughts on each whether you like it or not.
The NFL The Miami Dolphins have a better record than the Seattle Seahawks. As some friends can attest to I was devastated when the Jets (GAH *&$^#@( MANGINI okay I'm better now) released Chad Pennington and had my doubts when he was signed to the Dolphins, but he's proven to be a good fit. I don't think they'll set the world on fire, but don't be surprised if they go .500 this year.
Really, I didn't laugh when Tom Brady got hurt. Swear. The husband's my witness. The Patriots also have living proof that one can play in the NFL without having started a game since high school.
If you don't think offensive lines are that important, the 2007 St. Louis Rams and the 2008 Indianapolis Colts would like a word with you.
I must declare Oakland Raiders fans to be the most dedicated (or delusional) in the NFL. Seriously, your team is getting blown out 41-7 by the Broncos ... but yet the stands are still full and everyone's still cheering and yelling RAAAAIIIDDERRRRRS. Okay, there were a few yelling AL DAVIS NEEDS TO DIE but overall very into it. Respect the Black Hole, y'all.
Is anyone other than me surprised that Marvin Lewis still has a head coaching job? True, the Bengals have some of the worst ownership in the NFL but I don't think anyone expected the current 0-for the season. Can they just not play ... or do they just not care? Somehow I think it's the latter. I think there's a similar situation in St. Louis, whose ownership is also in turmoil. But hey, at least they're not 0-fer anymore.
MLB So for the first time in thirteen years the Yankees didn't make the playoffs. That's what happens when you don't have pitching and nobody's hitting worth a damn. Being a Yankees fan as long as I have I have drawn the conclusion that the Yankees are in their off decade. They were decent in the seventies, sucked in the eighties, ruled in the nineties, faded away in the oughts. C'mon, 2010!
The Tampa Bay Rays, a team who has been in last place since their inception, is probably going to win the World Series this year. And if Joe Maddon doesn't get Manager of the Year I officially sanction a protest riot. With the exception of Carl Crawford and a couple of others this is an incredibly young team (the oldest pitcher in their rotation is James Shields, who's a doddering 26). Tampa's ownership also seems a bit more willing to cough up so they may not lose any to free agency.
The Atlanta Braves are dead. Long live the Philadelphia Phillies as the reigning NL East Dynasty. Another good young team with a great manager. I don't think they'll win the WS, but they'll make it interesting.
Boston Red Sox fans gloated when the Yankees failed to make the postseason ... only to watch in horror as their team implodes in the ALCS. Ironically, the pitcher who usually gives Sox fans fits, Daisuke Matsuzaka, has been the steady one. Josh Beckett, the notorious October stud, looked lost and uncertain on the mound (and may not be fully healthy) while Jon Lester, who is rapidly overtaking Beckett as the Sox's ace, looked like he was pitching batting practice. Add in the very cold bats and watch the bandwagoners flee.
Prompted by USC's loss to Oregon State, I came here to write a pithy editorial about how you can never tell what will happen in college football, and September is way too early to discuss the BCS. Imagine my dismay when I discovered Michael Rosenberg had already written it.
In my pants. Said party commences immediately, now that you have some time and energy after swimming one of the most grueling programs in the history of the Olympics, winning more gold medals than any Olympian EVER, winning more gold medals in a single Olympics than anyone EVER, and breaking SEVEN world records in the process.
Also encouraged to attend the party in my pants are your eight gold medals, your seven world records, and all of your relay teammates, ESPECIALLY one Mr. Jason Hotass Lezak. You're pretty fucking awesome, Phelps, but we all know this wouldn't have been possible without that other lightning fast hotness.
Required attire: Nothing but swim caps, baby. Actually, Phelps is the only one required to wear the cap. For my own personal reason.
The shindig should look like this, but with less clothing:
Oooooh.
I can't even, like, form a coherent thought when I look at that group of manflesh. I wish there were a way for me to be the meat in that quadruple decker sammich. Perhaps I can work something out with the magic of Photoshop? I dunno.
It's been a long seven days of suspense, people, so let's just sit back and look at that bod, think nasty thoughts, and then look at the bod again:
Speedo, I do believe I owe you some royalties for the appearances these trunks make in my dreams. But just a very small percentage, since they're not on for long.
Oh, to be the person attached to that hand (without the artificial nails, of course). Or even that granola bar. Hell, at this point I'll take what I can get.
Um......
Phelps, I love you so much I don't even care that you cup your left breast during the National Anthem. You know that's not where your heart is, right? Well, you're a superhuman, so perhaps that IS where your heart is located...
Not only is this fine gold medal winning machine an excellent athlete AND easy on the eyes, HE'S ALSO TRYING TO SAVE ELLIS ISLAND:
After waking up to watch my broken Gooners at a godforsaken hour, I've managed to accomplish exactly nothing today save sitting on my ass with my feet in my husband's lap while we both watch soccer.
We've made it through Arsenal's win (far, far closer than I would have liked, so if my team could be something other than injured soon, that would be awesome) and Blackburn's completely crazy topping of Everton. (Nothing says Prem League heart attack like a 94th minute goal to win the match. By which I mean 'HOLY SHIT I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT EVEN HAPPENED.)
Really, though, I'm taking one major thing away from today.
Thank fuck Fernando Torres cut his hair.
People, we went from this monstrosity:
to this:
It's not perfect, but it's better. Of course, the fact that he looks like he's about eight in that picture makes me feel kind of gross, but whatever. He cut his hair, he scored the winning goal. It's Fernando Torres' world, y'all. We're just living in it.
For the record, in the 12 minutes it has taken me to find a properly terrible picture of 'Nando's old hair and write out this post, West Ham has managed to hang two on Wigan. That's just sad.
We have Olympics Fever here at Bitchball. After an Opening Ceremony that would cause even a casual Luddite to go running for the hills (seriously, can we talk about the gigantic tablet PC, more or less, that was the floor of that stadium last night? Or the fact that Lisa and I, more than once, sent each other messages over AIM that simply read 'WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE I DON'T UNDERSTAND HOLY GOD THIS IS AMAZING' since, obviously, one does not need punctiation or lower case letters when one is having ones mind blown by a bunch of Communists and trying to avoid thinking about China's shittastic human rights record. Bonus points for not flinging things at the TV every time Bush or, even worse [today] Putin showed up on screen. Who starts a god damn war the day the Olympics start? Who?), the games are in full swing, and I am already fully prepared to choke a bitch.
You see, NBC did the US a favor and created a whole channel dedicated to men's and women's soccer (WHEE), and men's and women's basketball (bleh) because, well, there are a lot of games, and some people (*coughcoughme*) want to see all of them. It's a smart move, and it really frees them up to air some of the events that otherwise wouldn't see the light of day. As I am a huge Olympics whore, I wholeheartedly approve of the fact that I actually got to see the women's fencing medal event (WHAT UP, US SWEEP) because NBC could put the US/Japan women's match on the soccer channel.
There's just one problem. Not everyone gets the soccer channel or the basketball channel. In fact, not even all customers of a given cable provider get the channels. I? Do not get these channels, as a subscriber of Comcast of Philadelphia. Comcast of New Jersey? Gets the channels. Comcast of Delaware? Gets them. Comcast Philadelphia, the HOME GODDAMN MARKET of Comcast Cable, site of the massive Comcast Building, CAN'T GET THE GOD DAMN SOCCER CHANNEL?! So...basically, I'm going to get exactly no soccer the entire Games? Great.
Here's the thing: I know I'm going to get to see some games, and I know that I'll get to see all or most of the US men's and women's games. (I have not so much faith in the men's team, but whatever, we'll see.) That's fine. But I want to see more. I want to see the Brazil matches, because I want to see how Ronaldinho's leg holds up. I want to know if the Dutch team is as good as they look on paper. Shit, I want to see how the Ivory Coast holds up in their first Olympic Games. (For men's soccer, anyway.) But no. Because Comcast Philadelphia isn't carrying the channels. Instead, I get Fox Reality Channel airing shit like 'The World's Trashiest Weddings.'
A pox on you, Comcast Philadelphia. Give me my damn soccer. Whatever. I'm going to go watch Michael Phelps beat the shit out of the rest of the world. Homina. (For the record, I'm thirteen years old and swimming delights me solely because the announcers keep talking about the quality of various strokes.)
But hey: the Prem starts in a week. Sing it with me, people: FUCK. CHELSEA.
Take a look at the US Men's Team, would you? They're all about fourteen years old. The Olympics make me feel like a pervy old lady.
The day has arrived! It’s officially 8.8.08, which means the 2008 Olympic Games in Beijing have started! (Yes, I know soccer technically started earlier this week. Cut me some slack.) In fact, Day 1 is already over…and herein lies the problem.
Instead of broadcasting LIVE from the opening ceremony, NBC showed The Today Show, choosing to “save” the ceremony for primetime. In fact, the cast of Today show spoke about the ceremony as if wouldn't be happening for another 12 hours, despite the dark sky in the background. Because Americans are too stupid to notice that and don’t understand time zones, anyway, right?
Really? NBC couldn’t preempt Today for live Olympic coverage? I mean, it’s once every two years. Or maybe show the ceremony on one of the other (many) NBC channels? CNBC, maybe? OK, the stock market’s open today, so that’s out. What about MSNBC? All that's being shown there is news, anyway. Or USA? Reruns of Monk, for Christ’s sake. Or that weird Universal channel? I didn’t catch what was running this morning (NOT the Olympics), but I’ll bet it was some B-movie with Jean-Claude Van Damme.
But, fine. NBC wants to keep the ceremony in primetime, attempting to boost ad revenue and gaining a larger audience. I get it (sort of). Personally, I don’t think showing the live ceremony would cut into the primetime audience that much. Lots of people are at work right now and will wait until primetime, anyway. Plus, in the age of DVR, who watches commercials?
Honestly, I didn’t really expect this year to be an exception for NBC. This is typical of American programming, but it still makes me angry. All I can hope is that most of the events are shown live. Given NBC's track record, I know I'm delusional. But at the very least, NBC, tell us the truth about when things are happening in Beijing. Some of us aren’t as dumb as you think.
[This post has been brought to you by my Olympic boyfriend, Andreas Thorkildsen.]
So Sonny Vaccaro has finally grabbed the NCAA by the balls, like he's been plotting in some Mafia den to do for years now. Ridiculously skinny yet talented point guard Brandon Jennings, the next BIG THING in college hoops, has decided to not attend the University of Lute Olsen, and instead sign a pro contract in Europe for a year, before entering the 2009 NBA Draft.
Ever since the NBA instituted its one year policy, we've been waiting for this moment. Everyone thought it would be Orange Juice Mayonnaise and Billy Walker (both close friends of Vaccaro) to be the pioneers of this continent-hopping way of going pro straight out of high school, but they instead joined the One Year of College Class of 2008 (or, an awkward sorta year and a half in Bill's case) that produced one of the greatest, strangest years of college ball to date.
For Jennings himself, it's hard to say how it will play out. College or pro, the boy needs to put on weight at some point. His game right now is Steve Nash-esque, but with dunking and other more uh, exciting facets. But regardless...he needs strength for when he'll face the bigger guards that he'll inevitably face in the NBA, and now, probably in Europe too.
I have mixed feelings on this issue for Jennings. I think he's stupid to pass up a chance to work with Lute Olsen, one of the greatest basketball minds alive. There is no guaranteeing his European coach will click with him, or even speak English. Arizona is also a hell of a lot closer to LA than uh, Europe. Even if his family moves with him, will cultural changes still bother him? The longer schedule is probably nothing. He's been at Oak Hill for 2 years, which plays longer schedules than teams in the Final Four. But it's the little things. What if this demoralizes him, stumps his basketball growth, or just exposes weaknesses that turn GMs off? And it can't be about the pay. He's not gonna get a million dollar contract. Hell, NCAA boosters will probably do him better.
I just worry about the kid because I like his game and attitude, but I don't think this path is as glorified as it seems, and unfortunately, Vaccaro might ruin Jennings' life.
It sickens me because this is about punishment to the NCAAs for Vaccaro, who he rightfully believes is a soul-sucking institution that unfairly profits off of its players, without providing them with adequate educations or anything more than a chance to hone their game. I have issues with the NCAAs that are in a similar vain. At the same time, Vaccaro is EXPERIMENTING with a boy's LIFE, just to get back at the NCAAs. He whispered sweet nothings to Jennings, things that might hurt him much more than Rodney Guillory and OJ Mayo's bad marriage. Oh, sure, it could work out great for him too, and probably end college hoops as we know it today. Instead of the NCAA profiting, Europe will! And we know America LOVES supporting foreign economies rather than their own.
The fact is, both the NCAA and NBA need to be working together for some form of reform. While they act like they are separate institutions, fact is that the NCAA is a funneling system into pro sports where basketball is concerned. I've been an advocate for awhile of actually developing athlete-friendly curriculums at schools, where they can take classes in life skills and financial management and such to PREPARE them for the pros beyond on the court. It's gotten to a point where it's just silly to fool ourselves into thinking the NBA can institute a rule more similar to the NFL's, where the kids have to almost finish or finish college. Kids have been allowed straight into the NBA for far too long. Trying to do that now would mean ALL of college would go to Europe for 3-4 years. Someone fucked up way back, but that doesn't mean we can't get creative now, and do something to actually HELP the kids now for the 1 year or so they stay.
And yes, I'm an old man with this. I would prefer I see kids playing ball for 4 years still. But I realize times have changed, and rather than whine and bitch, let's figure out something that actually works, that teaches and prepares the kids and makes the most of their short stops onto the NBA.
But experimenting with a kid's life and career is not the best first solution. Congratz Sonny, because you did win. You stuck it to the NCAAs, because they're too busy counting their March Madness revenue to bother coming up with a plan to counteract their problems. Now let's hope that ALL of these people haven't already ruined the promising career of the next great point guard.
I just posted a whole big rant about the Sox/Yanks series starting tonight, but Blogger ate it. It's a fucking shame, too, because that was some prolific and edifying motherfucking prose, and now it's gone.
Let me boil it down for you:
1) We know this rivalry is overhyped and annoying. Trust us. We're at the center of the storm, and the next time we hear 'storied,' 'historic,' 'heated' or 'rivalry' used in any combination, we're going to punch someone.
2) I am not particularly happy with this particular version of the Red Sox, since Manny Ramirez has gone douchebag, Papi's still broken, Jason Varitek couldn't hit Kate Smith in the ass with a banjo, Mike Timlin shouldn't be allowed near a bag of resin (much less a pitching mound) and Julio Lugo is trying to kill me. Factor in that Jon Lester (pitching tonight) is coming off his worst start of the season (thanks, fucker- you booted me out of first in my fantasy league) and I want to hide behind my couch while fantasizing about making out with Josh Beckett and his fastball. What?
3) I find this A-Rod/Madonna/Cynthia Rodriguez/Lenny Kravitz saga ridiculous, if only because it would make more sense if Slappy was hooking up with Lenny. But then, A-Rod is big into the stripper-looking trannies, and Madge isn't looking so hot these days, four minutes to save the world notwithstanding.
4) Really, I'm just hoping for a fight. Like this one. Come on, y'all, my birthday's coming.
Are you fucking serious, Favre? I should have known the prospect of not having to listen to various commentators verbally fellate you every Sunday was too good to be true. I'll admit that I cheered a little (okay, a lot) when you kicked the Seahawks' ass in the playoffs. Believe it or not, I actually hate Matt Hasselbeck even more than I hate you. That's one of the two things you had going for you. Now I think this retirement bullshit is just an excuse for you to have a good public cry every year without anyone calling you a pussy.
Do us all a favor, Favre. Give it up. Live on your farm in Mississippi, ride around on your tractor, go fishing, and watch NASCAR until your plaid La-Z-Boy chair has your ass print permanently embedded in it. Do whatever it is you rednecks love to do in your downtime. Stay away from the football field. I appreciate your contribution to the game, sir, but if I wanted to watch a middle-aged man engage in self-destructive behavior, I'd watch The Two Coreys.
ESPN's Bill Simmons, whom I used to like back when he was the Boston Sports Guy with his own site but now has gotten incredibly annoying, nonetheless can still have the occasional flash of insight. Recently he wrote an interesting column in ESPN The Magazine concerning the demise of tennis as a popular TV sport. I'm not that much older than Bill so we do have sort of the same points of reference, and with Wimbledon currently going on a lot of what he said made sense.
Tennis was never on a par with baseball or football, but when I was growing up it was considered an important sport. It was groundbreaking in a lot of ways as well--I was six when Billie Jean King played the famous match against Bobby Riggs and beat him at a time when women's rights were very much in the forefront of the American consciousness, and Arthur Ashe and Althea Gibson broke the color barrier. It was a sport of finesse, the great players being able to drop the ball precisely where it needed to go. It was a primarily English/American/Australian sport, but then the Iron Curtain parted to let through Martina Navratilova and Ilie Nastase. Martina definitely paved the way for players like the Williams sisters--she didn't finesse the ball so much as pounded it at her opponent. She and Chris Evert fought it out on numerous occasions, and there was a definite changing of the guard once Martina got in stride. Nastase was nicknamed Nasty for good reason--he had a devastating serve (once clocked at the fastest in the Guinness Book of World Records in the seventies) and a vicious temper. Then came Bjorn Borg, the expressionless Swede who dominated tennis in the late seventies and early eighties.
Two of the best sporting events I ever saw were the Wimbledon finals between Borg and John McEnroe in 1980 and 1981. NBC, who broadcast Wimbledon at the time, always had "Breakfast at Wimbledon" where coverage would start at six in the morning with Dick Enberg doing the play-by-play. My brother and I would set ourselves up in front of the TV with cereal and toast and watch tennis. The first final was epic, going five sets with a 20 minute fourth-set tiebreaker that had my brother and I yelling at the TV so loudly (we were both rooting for McEnroe) that we woke my father up. Borg ended up winning but not before leaving everything on the court. The next year's was just as epic, with McEnroe winning and dropping to his knees exhausted afterwards. You see that frequently now, but McEnroe was really the first to bring that sort of emotion to the court.
Today, tennis is no longer a game of finesse. With monstrous graphite rackets and players much bigger, stronger and faster (come on, Venus Williams is 6'2" and probably goes about 170, she could kick McEnroe's ass without breaking a sweat), it's turned into a smashfest. You rarely see volleys or touch plays or matches lasting more than two hours. It doesn't help that the current king of men's tennis, Roger Federer, has about as much personality as grass and Maria Sharapova, while good, gets more press for her outfits and model looks than for her tennis. It's also turned into a young person's sport, where players frequently retire in their early twenties. You won't see another player like Jimmy Connors making it into the semis at a Grand Slam event in his late thirties. Now you burn out and fade away and take your millions with you when you're barely old enough to drink.
You know how Americans (and I am totally generalizing here, but after enduring that piece of shit soccer match, I'm allowed to generalize) hate soccer because no one ever scores and it's boring?
Here's what happened in the Germany/Spain final: Nobody scored. It was boring. Outside of a fluky goal by Spain's Fernando Torres and his tragic, tragic hair during which every single person in my basement screamed, in unison, 'WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, LEHMANN?' (I also got a pair of text messages and an instant message demanding the exact same valuable piece of information.) Lehmann was overmatched, out of place, and it was a whole big stupid mess and Lahm (the pocket defender) has a lot of explaining to do as to why Torres could get past him like that.
But that was it. That was the only goal. Torres had a shot later, and missed. The most hilarious whiff of the tourney, however, goes to Spain's Marcos Senna who had a perfect shot lined up and instead, tripped over his own feet and went sliding to the ground...backwards, while the ball sailed off helplessly.
Germany never showed up. There were questions as to whether or not German midfielder Michael Ballack would even start and, well, I'll be honest. Outside of suddenly becoming mindblowingly hot when he came away from a collision with blood streaming down his face, he....didn't really do much of anything. At all. Well, except get himself a yellowcard and unloading on the ref, which was also, um, hot. Bastian Schweinsteiger tried, but when no one else (Podolski, where the hell were you?) on his team showed up to help him out, there was only so much he could do.
When it boils down to it, both teams played some pretty atrocious football, but Germany just couldn't break through Spain's first line of defense, and so the final remains Spain 1-0 Germany. Blech.
Great, Spain. Go lift your racist-ass coach over your head some more. I really, really hope that you drop him, and that he takes out a chunk of Sergio Ramos' hair on the way down. (Yeah, I don't so much like Spain. Or Aragones.)
Before I get to the aftermath of the NBA Draft (naturally late, too...I've managed to be late to school every day this week, and it looks even worse considering my classmates are goody-two-shoes nut jobs who show up like, 45 minutes early. People suck.), I have to have a good laugh at this gem:
"I decided the best thing for myself would be to go back to school, get my degree and have something to fall back on," he said. "Become a man. My mom always preached about getting a degree and stuff like that, so I definitely wanted to do that for my mother. Just becoming a Pitt alumni, that's priceless."
Those fine words are courtesy of Greg Oden's little brother, Pitt forward Sam Young. Many things come to my mind reading this, some of which are highly inappropriate to post even for this blog, but...I guess Sam "Old" Young realizes the chances of a 6'5" forward who can't do much besides dunk making it to the NBA are slim, so he needs to network with those Pitt alums to land himself a J-O-B. Hey, it's worked out well for Maggie and I. I just never really thought to call my 4 years at Pitt "priceless". By the way, I graduated 2 months ago and still don't have a degree.
Also, the article that this comes from is also amusing since they're making it seem like the 3 people who will be seniors in college ball next year are going to make the year SO thrilling. I like Tyrese Rice as much as the next ball fan, but uh, he's not exactly a superstar. As the first section basically slobbers and states...it's really more about the Carolina seniors AND juniors returning, because at this point, nobody else has any hope.
So, anyways, some late thoughts on the draft and its aftermath:
1. I've already expressed my issue with coaches being obsessed with converting combo/2 guards into pure point guards. It can work, yes...but how often? And when you have a good point guard available, why aren't you taking him? People knock DJ Augustin, but he CAN be a good NBA point guard if he just CALMS DOWN with his shot. He's a damn pitbull with the ball though. His size doesn't matter. I watched him crash the lane for 2 years in the Big 12.
But then something INSANE happens like Russell Westbrook going fourth. Now I love that kid, and it's more than his charming smile and the fact that he looks 12. BUT HE IS NOT AN NBA POINT GUARD RIGHT NOW. He played what, a couple games at the point when Collison was out? He led his team in assists? SO WHAT?! He's a slasher, and he had Kevin Love down low...of course he gets easy dimes. He can dish it off to Love under the basket or kick out to Josh Shipp. I'd average 4-5 assists a game too if I was a Bruin.
And even better, now the Sonics have a 2 guard who they're making a point, and a power forward who should play small forward who's playing the 2. Thanks for ruining Kevin Durant's career further.
2. Since we're discussing Bruins...can I buy the Grizzlies like, yesterday? I still can't believe they ruined their entire team about 4 hours after making a decision that would have made them playoff-caliber. This is another thing I blogged about weeks ago...HOW ARE RUDY GAY AND OJ MAYO GOING TO COEXIST?!?! Even worse, they damn near are playing similar positions. If you're gonna bring in another superstar, you should have pulled the trigger on that proposed Miami trade and sacrificed Mike Conley and co for Lil' Mike. At least he's a big man. Well, according to Kansas State. In real life, he's a midget.
What kills me is that Kevin Love was THE perfect fit for the Grizz. He's not gonna score like he did in college, but he's going to be a VERY effective big man (an anomaly in the NBA these days). For the Grizz, it works out because he will take up space on the low block, freeing Hakim Warrick to play a little looser down low. Warrick can be great offensively, but he's never going to be strong enough at the power forward spot to be effective if all big man defensive pressure is on him. He's a skinny, weak dude. It's reality. But Love would have relieved that pressure, opened things up for him, and the rest of the team too. Outlet pass, blah, blah, blah...now we'll watch Rudy and Orange Juice fight all season. It's hard out here for a pimp.
3. CDR, Super Mario, Lil' Mike's possibly gay lover DeAndre Jordan...man, y'all look dumb right now. Maybe you'll make it, maybe you won't...but I love it when early entries who SWORE they were first rounders fall to the second. Especially you first 2...you were a year away from your degree. And CDR might have gotten redemption and a ring. Oh well!
4. My favorite moment of the night was Eric Gordon's mismatched suit and Jay Bilas' draft analysis of him, which was essentially, "He can't run, he can't rebound, he can't defend...he can score?" Gordon and the Clips are a marriage of epic failure. Now there's a guy who should have fell in the draft. Yes, a one-dimensional guard who had an emotional meltdown once his coach was fired will be awesome in the NBA! The second the Clips screw up the whole season in October, he'll start crying and average 0.4 ppg. I love freshmen.
5. Yes, I did cry with Darrell Arthur. I laughed at Brook Lopez. And the Knicks. Mafia payoffs are funny.
6. People who weren't in the lottery who might still turn out alright or awesome: Bill Walker (duh), Sean Singletary (A REAL POINT GUARD), Darrell Arthur (yeah, I never knew what to expect of him either at Kansas, but why not? I feel the same about Brandon Rush.), Courtney Lee, Joey Dorsey (the next Ben Wallace)
7. People who shouldn't have even been drafted (aka a group of big men who are either stiffs or too skinny): Roy Hibbert, Kosta Koufos, Donte Green, Anthony Randolph, DeAndre Jordan, DJ White
8. People who I will always want to punch in the face: Deron Washington, the crying Lopez twins, Eric Gordon
I don't even know what a Blood Elf is. You'd have to ask my husband, since our marriage has room for but one WarCraft geek. That's not my point.
My point is this: after publicly fighting the Red Sox and the team's doctors about the necessity of shoulder surgery at the beginning of the season (They thought he'd be fine with rehab. He and his doctors disagreed. We have all wasted a whole lot of time and money on this silly little rehab project.), Curt from the Car announced today that he'll be undergoing 'season ending' surgery next week.
Absolutely no one should be surprised that the...opinionated and vocal, shall we say, Schilling announced his surgery plans on his blog, 38 pitches.
Now, this particular Bitch is a Red Sox fan, through and through. I'm feeling pretty okay with this news. I mean, yes, Schill was part of the two most recent World Series Champion teams (nope. That never gets old.) but...okay, I'm going to be frank. He's also sucked. A lot. Like, since 2005, he's done a whole boatload of sucking.
Now, that's not all his fault. He was injured, for one thing, and, well, let's just say it: he's old. He hasn't had a solid fastball in more than three years, and he's had to use his famous studying patterns just to help him fool hitters with a sackful of junk pitches. It hasn't always worked, either. I went from being solidly confident in every Schilling start to mildly concerned to emulating his treatment of Mitch Williams- putting a towel over my head so I didn't have to watch the inevitable horror. Sure, he's thrown some gems in the intervening years, but not that many, and they were few and far between.
But some of it was his fault. The Red Sox were so concerned about his physique that they padded his extension with incentives for showing up to Spring Training at playing weight. He made the decision to hold this surgery off- had he had it back when it was firt suggested, he might be pitching after the All Star break this season.
Now? I'm hard pressed to see any way that this isn't career-ending surgery, rather than simply season-ending. He's a 41 year old pitcher having surgery on his shoulder. That's not something that you just bounce back from, and Curt's had a history of slow returns from injury. Hell, I was surprised that he decided to come back to pitch this season. (Not that he's actually thrown a single pitch for the Sox, but whatever.) It might be unfair, but it wouldn't be untrue to say that he's old, he's fat, and he can't pitch any more, so it's probably time to hang it up.
At this point, I have to say that I think he's done, unless he signs a short-term, Lieberthal-esque deal so he can retire as a Phillie, and I don't even think that's particularly likely- more on Curt's end than on the part of the Phillies. (The Phils are so desperate for solid pitching that I heard they tried to sign Charlie Sheen, provided he remembered to wear his glasses.)
It's the end of an era, sure, but it's just that. The end. Thanks for the rings, Curt. They're kinda pretty.
Yawn, did the NBA Finals or something just happen? As much as everyone likes to get on the Celts for "buying" the ring, it's still not the easiest thing to successfully complete. Just ask their fellow Boston brethren Pats LOL! All kidding aside, it proves what I've been saying for awhile - Kobe's championship career was made by Shaq, and, uh, DON'T BLOW 30 POINT LEADS.
So Andy Katz released his updated pre-season Top 25 for men's college bball, a fairly absurd lovefest with the Big East. I have no problem with people believing that the Big East is awesome or anything, but for someone like me who lived and breathed and worked with Big East basketball for the last 4 years, I can easily spot posers who read a few box scores here and there and assume that means they know everything. And yes, Andy Katz, YOU are a poser.
I have no issue with UNC as #1...it's a legitimate belief that most of the nation shares. They are returning their final 4 team, adding on Larry Drew (who should prove to be just as competent as Quentin Thomas as a backup PG) and some others who will only give a stronger support to the team. Blah blah blah "barring any major injury" or Ty Lawson learning how to hold his liquor, these guys are fine. My wife will finally shut up about Roy not being able to win with players he recruited.
And then it goes downhill. Now, for those that know me, they know I have a deep, unbridled, awful, wretched hatred towards the University of Pittsburgh Panthers men's basketball team. For those that don't know - they made my life miserable for 4 years. You can only watch so many 12-0 starts (with all those victories coming against JV squads), mediocre Big East performances (particularly on the road), Big East Tourney final losses, second round NCAA exits, and 3 pointers given up before you can't take it anymore.
When everyone picked Pitt to suddenly win the national championship after beating Georgetown in the Big East tourney, I was wondering if I was the only person who actually SAW their season - a lukewarm effort that consistently failed against the powers of the Big East. I also wondered had anyone seen Duke or GTown's seasons (ironically, I was probably the only person on Earth without affiliations to either school who correctly knew both would lose in the second round of the NCAAs - awkward big men, or just a lack of them, doesn't bode for much of a run). They couldn't defend after Mike Cook's knee died on national TV (Yeah, running a 2-3 zone that forces Sam Young and DeJuan Blair to become wings when they can barely run is a FANTASTIC idea Jamie! Those other teams are draining 70 3s a game because they're just that awesome!), and well...never could shoot. The only thing I gave the Panthers credit for was getting Blair, a huge improvement on the front-line over Aaron Gray because he could actually MAKE open lay-ups and do other things most normal big men can do.
But Andy, let's think about things. Yes, so apparently, Mike Cook somehow got a 45th season in college ball. I wasn't aware that this was official (I mean, I'm on their athletic dept. mailing list - I get updates that the Wannstache is breathing), but even if it is...okay, their defense should be solid enough again. Cook allows the Panthers defensive flexibility since his quickness and agility and size can guard nearly everyone but the 5, and they can switch between zone and man when necessary.
But tell me...HOW IS THIS TEAM SCORING POINTS? I think Mr. Katz needs the memo that Ronald Ramon and Keith Benjamin graduated, and nobody else can drain a shot beyond 10 feet. Unless someone knows something about Brad Wanamaker that I don't...I have no idea who is putting the ball in the basket. Opposing D can just guard Young and Blair. That worked out great for the Celtics against the Kobe. And obviously, Levance Fields THINKS he can drain shots, but he has been attending the Carl Krauser school of PGs, and probably now believes he has a right to take 75 poor outside shots a game. Jermaine Dixon is supposed to be a legit backup PG, but until then, this team is still slow and somehow has even less ball-handling ability, despite losing Butterfingers Ramon. Just press them a bit. There's no hope.
And regardless, it doesn't matter how "great" of a team the Panthers put together. They can't win when it matters. Never have, so I can't believe they ever will. Coach Antigua also left, which is bigger than people may think. Besides his bowties and how he traditionally winked and smiled at me before every game, he was the connecting point between Coach Dixon (who nobody likes) and the players. Yes, a team coached by someone who nobody feels warm and fuzzy about is SURE to second best in the country!
So seriously, watch college basketball before compiling these lists, Andy.
On the flipside, what team from the Big East SHOULD be #2? Try the Louisville Cardinals. I was apparently the only person outside of Kentucky who ever believed in them last season. They lost Derrick Caracter, which is probably best for Coach Pitino's sanity, and David Padgett...but they're replacing him with Samardo Samuels, who, while a bit clunky, is still bound to be a solid big guy. That's all the Cards need...Earl Clark and Terrence Williams (when he's not 3 point happy) are slashers who thrive inside. Samuels just needs to crowd the lane to create spacing for them. But the thing is, he'll still put the ball in the basket, so it's all just bonuses. Edgar Sosa didn't have quite the year people expected, but I saw him KILL Pitt with his shot, and man, when that kid is on...you're dead.
And, because they're coached by my favorite Mafia man, you know they are still, and always will be, a great defensive team. Don't sleep on the Cards. We should easily see a rematch of that Elite 8 UNC/Louisville game.
Other teams that will be dangerous:
1. Tennessee - Bruce Pearl could coach a squad of midgets and I'd pick them to go deep. He's the master at finding the strengths in his players and exploiting them to the utmost. Chris Lofton and 80% of the Smiths are gone, but Scotty Hopson more than enough makes up for that. Hopson has an anger from people not recruiting him strong enough, and can pretty much do anything on the court. More dimensions than Chris Lofton...uhhh, isn't that an improvement? I also think either J.P. Prince or Wayne Chism will be elevating their game to a more elite level, but regardless, you can always count on them for consistent production and a random breakout game.
2. Notre Dame - Every time I watch Luke Harangody, I can't get over how graceful he is for being 400 lbs. As long Kyle McAlarney says no to drugs, they'll be fine in the Big East. Still waiting for them to prove they can win during tourney time, though.
3. Arizona State - Does anyone even know who James Harden is? He easily had the 3rd best year out of the freshman class (behind Lil' Mike and Gummybears Rose), yet was ranked #356 on the most-hyped list. Since you have no clue who he is, just check his first year stat line:
Nearly 18 ppg, 52% from the field, 40% from 3, 5 rpg, 3 apg, 2 spg.
Digest that for a minute. ISN'T THAT A NAISMITH CANDIDATE STAT LINE???? Yet as part of the West Coast Bias, somehow Lil' Mike leading his mediocre school was just THAT much more amazing than Harden leading his mediocre school.
Everyone is on Blake Griffin for leading candidate to be the best of the 4 remaining sophmores in the country, but...JAMES HARDEN. I guarantee you...Arizona State finishes in the top 2 in the Pac-10. Maybe even first, considering there may be a guard meltdown at U-C, L-A. This is a team that SHOULD have made the NCAAs had tornadoes not raped Atlanta and Georgia won the SEC. They swept 'Zona, and also have a pretty sweet big dude with Jeff Pendergraph. But who cares...they have James Harden. He's a star. He should be the #1 pick in next year's draft. And uh...he actually stayed in school to win. Reason #4554 why he's so freakin' awesome.
Otherwise...the rest of the field is contingent on many factors. Villanova can be good...if Scottie Reynolds and Corey Fisher learn what the word "consistent" means. Georgetown might be scary if Greg Monroe actually checks out to be more like Jeff Green than Mr. Stiff himself, Roy Hibbert. Arizona got their star volleyball player back, and Brandon Jennings is easily already the best point guard in America. Kansas lost everyone but Sherron Collins, but I'm excited to see what my Philly boys Markieff and Marcus Morris will do down low for the Jayhawks. Duke will be Duke...I'm waiting on Kyle Singler to take things to the next level, and Gerald Junior at 100% after his wrist surgery should be exciting for his slashing ability and uh, his massive biceps (UM, SRSLY, THEY'RE HYPNOTIZING). Texas might not fall that far...AJ Abrams + Damion James = pretty powerful inside/out duo. Maybe knowing DJ Augustin won't be taking 95% of the Longhorn's shots will make them less nervous.
Blah blah...college basketball has a fairly open field this year with such a huge exodus of players to the NBA. The incoming class is solid, but not packed with superstars like last year. As a result, we get a more even playing field. This isn't last year, where there were 4 great teams (Kansas, Memphis, UNC, UCLA), and a bunch of mediocre crap afterwards. Now...there's 1 great team and a bunch of potentially medicore crap?
But Pitt is NOT the #2 team in the country. Try, like, #20. And falling. Sorry y'all!
(aka I'm still pretty bitter about Duke losing to Pitt in December. Even all that alcohol I drank wasn't enough to numb the pain of that wretched, awful, excruciating night. Merry Christmas, here's Mike Cook blowing out his knee!)
This entire blog post is actually about people blowing out their knees at bad times, but more of that in a second. First, an update on NBA Finals analysis:
The Lakers are the most inept team in the final minutes of games. I don't care if Kobe is 0-76,595...he should probably be the ONLY person touching the ball. Maybe playing defense, too. Oh, wait, he is. Oops. And why were the Grizzlies dumb for trading Gasol, again? Aside from it letting Hakim Warrick flourish offensively, he's clearly proving that he isn't exactly the kinda big man you add to win a championship. He's more passive-aggressive than most Europeans. Yeah numbers numbers...but all I care is what people do in the final minutes. The Lakers haven't really gotten this down yet in the series, and they were just lucky to come out with the W tonight...and in reality, David Stern fixed this series to go to 7, so we needn't be surprised.
Coming up tomorrow (or honestly, whenever I feel like sitting my behind down at my slow ass computer this week) will be my overly early and inaccurate 2008-09 NCAA men's basketball preview, made semi-legit since the NBA Early Entry Withdrawal deadline is tomorrow (today?) at 4pm (aka a great day to laugh at people who think leaving school to be a potential late second round pick is a good idea). At this point, I'm just waiting on the Carolina trio. Joe Alexander officially decided to stay in today, draining WVU's championship hopes. Smart move though...he's coming off a hot tournament where he managed not to look awkward, clunky, lost, or anything else people probably would have associated with him pre-Huggy Bear era. I was just looking forward to the Pitt kids crying another year.
But on the saddest note of the draft, a part that makes me forget how angry I am at 95% of the guys who declared (particularly ones whose first names start with "Mario" and end with "Chalmers"), news was released late tonight that everyone's favorite Kansas State punching bag, William Henry Walker, injured his knee, YET AGAIN. All the details are murky...but it insinuates it's another ACL tear, and that he'll be pulling out of the draft.
I've had issues with Bill all season. I wondered where he disappeared to mentally most games, why he got so fat, how jealous he was of Lil' Mike, blah blah...but I love the kid. LOVE HIM. I've always felt he'd make a better pro than Orange Juice Mayonnaise (less of an arsenal of skills, but lower expectations...Bill would shock people, while Juice would just disappoint). I defend him, his decisions, and his future to the end, even back when everyone else forgot who he ever was.
I wrote the following about Billy as part of my anger-inducing non-fiction piece about why the world sucks for po' folk, and it feels appropriate to share tonight. These are my words, and I will murder you if you try to steal them for your own. Seriously. I will find you! DON'T TEST ME! Yes, it's Really Long, but it's worth it, whether or not you know who Bill or what basketball is. I even made Maggie sniffle a bit over this.
It’s early on a Saturday evening in late March 2008, and the #11 seed Kansas State Wildcats are peeling themselves off the Qwest Center floor that the #3 seed Wisconsin Badgers just stomped them into during the second round of the 2008 NCAAs. As per 2007-08 K-State post-game routine, freshman forward phenom bookends Michael Beasley and Bill Walker are sitting dejectedly in the locker room, mulling over another loss, and getting pummeled with questions as to whether or not they’ll enter the NBA draft.
Though they shake the inquiries off each time with a standard “I’m-not-in-the-mood-to-discuss-this-since -you-already-know-the-answer-anyways” response, nearly everyone who followed this duo – from Manhattan, Kansas to Manhattan, New York – knows the answers (“Yes” and “Yes”), and whether they are the right decisions (“Of course!” to Beasley; a range of “Hell no!”’s and “Uhhhh…”’s to Walker).
The supporting evidence is simple – Beasley is coming off one of the best statistical seasons any single human being has ever had in sports, shattering college basketball and Sportscenter appearance records. He was the leader on a hapless Kansas State team full of scrubs, torn ACLs, guys who would be good someday, and guys who would never contribute at all. With the exception of a 5 point aberration against Xavier, a game where he left his regular playing shoes in Kansas, Beasley’s 33 game college career is an endless highlight reel of powerful breakaway dunks, effortless finger-rolls in traffic, swishing three-pointers, screaming chest thumps, and royal purple flooding the court that made fans and NBA teams at the bottom of the standings smile and swoon. His ever-present electric dimpled smile, sleepy green eyes, and the constant joke on the tip of his tongue will perfectly complement whatever sneaker and sports energy drink he chooses to endorse for millions.
And then there’s Bill Walker. Once a YouTube video dunking deity. Once thought to be the second best high school basketball player in the nation. Once rumored to actually be a better pro prospect than his last superstar teammate at North College Hill High School, OJ Mayo. Once expected to be the savior and star of Kansas State basketball.
Now, just a dude nobody really wants to take a chance on. Someone who people say scowls too much – an angry, scrunched up frown that further darkens his already dark brown face. Someone who is apparently not allowed to emotionally display the frustration that the world and life has caused him.
The person who was once the most athletic, exciting forward to watch play is now watching the most athletic, exciting forward to watch play. After tearing his ACL for the second time in January 2007, Walker has come back as a “has been”, a “never will be”, and only a “maybe” for the risky types. No longer able to rely on those hops that once made him famous, he became an afterthought, another one of the four cheerleaders on the court, as per team basketball regulations, watching Beasley.
Of course, not many afterthoughts average 16 points and 6 rebounds in their first full season after a major knee injury. And anyone who remotely followed K-State basketball understood that most of those 21 wins came from the statistical support Beasley received from Walker – and that a good chunk of their 12 losses were the result of statistical and mental disappearances by him. The defining moment, the moment his NBA future may have finally slipped down a drain, was a 34 minute, 1 point, 0-14 nightmare against the Texas Longhorns on ESPN’s Big Monday – a game attended, watched, and drooled over by NBA scouts for the numerous NBA prospects dribbling a basketball on a court at one time.
He’s still a “maybe” because of moments like his first half of NCAA tournament basketball, while he, not Beasley, pushed the Wildcats to an upset victory over his former superstar teammate OJ Mayo’s #6 seed USC Trojans with 17 first half points. He’s still a “maybe” because while he’s not quite the explosive dunker and slasher he once was, he’s worked on developing his weaknesses, particularly outside shooting, to try to compensate for the fact that he never will be the person everyone expected him to be, and to develop new expectations for who he can be. But most people who have a chance to make a difference in his future don’t have any desire to make him a pro. He is an expired product, and wasn’t consumed while still fresh.
But all of that? Strictly on-court hoops logic, reasons scouts and coaches and blog writers and TV personalities will give when they say why or why not these were good decisions for Mike Beasley and Bill Walker.
Since 1971, the NBA has implemented two very significant rules in determining eligibility for the entering the NBA. The first, the result of a complicated legal battle over young ABA star Spencer Haywood, overturned the original rule that a player couldn’t enter the NBA until his college class graduated. Known simply as the hardship rule, players who clearly had the talent and skills for the NBA level and a need for the NBA paycheck could forego their remaining amateur eligibility and turn pro. Worked great for everyone, too – the league received a quicker influx of exciting talent, often coming from those streets of America’s inner cities. The kids from the streets of America’s inner cities received the rich man’s paycheck for their performances, allowing them to help themselves, their families, and anyone else they could dole their money out to.
The second rule, an attempt to curb a glut of straight-to-the-NBA-from-high-school mistakes in the late 90s and early 2000s, stipulated that a player must be 19 years old by draft year’s end, and his high school class must be one year removed from their graduation. Essentially, everyone has to attend college, or get very creative, for at least a year. Again though, it’s worked great for nearly everyone – college programs are getting at least a year out of guys who probably would have never entered a classroom, the NBA and the potential NBA players are getting a year of maturity and experience that can make huge differences in their career acceleration.
Both of these rules might ruin Bill Walker’s life. Long and complicated story short, Walker found out at the start of the 2006-07 school year that he was no longer eligible to play high school ball, due to some odd and inexplicable school system glitch that never transferred credits he earned years ago at a different school. Any other time prior to that year, no big thing – he’d finish whatever was left so he could graduate early, and then enter the NBA draft and get paid. It was at the prime of hype in his young ball career, and there was no question whichever lucky loser of a lottery team needed a small forward would gladly call his name to come shake David Stern’s hand.
But it was right after the first NBA draft since 1971 that barred high school players from entering, and Walker would have to wait until at least the 2008 NBA draft to even get whiff of the league. He managed to graduate high school early, enroll at Kansas State to be eligible for the winter sports semester, play a couple great games, and blow out his knee in a two month span, thus starting the downward spiral of his once sure-thing NBA career.
Many athletes have suffered similar harsh fates that ended their careers and potential careers early, but for someone who comes from extreme poverty like Walker, this fate is something he can’t accept. He has a single mother working for scraps at hardware stores that he wants to provide for. He grew up in a home so physically distraught by poverty that he writes the address on his shoes every game to remind himself and the world who doesn’t quite understand that he’s refusing to accept this fate because he simply can’t go back. He was supposed to make it out, and everything now sucking him back are forces beyond his control. He is being punished for simply existing, always being in the wrong place at the wrong time despite making all the right decisions.
Walker knows that he is risking never getting a guaranteed contract, risking foregoing his remaining college eligibility and easy chance at a degree to fall back on, risking everything he has on a hunch that somebody still thinks he can be that amazing player he had the potential to be. If he doesn’t do it, he risks tearing another knee ligament or breaking a bone or statistical disappointments that will just send those NBA scouts further away. He risks having to scrap in minor leagues, overseas, working harder than he should have to so that he doesn’t have to go back to that house in West Virginia that he fears more than never making the NBA. He risks continuing to live in the poverty he’s already been in for over 20 years.
Meanwhile, Michael Beasley is being handed the world, and he doesn’t even really need it. Sure, his mother embodies a fairly common ghetto story by being a high school dropout with five kids by four different men, but she’s managed to pull herself together to provide a fairly stable, middle-class life for her herd of children, even moving the entire clan out to Kansas when he started school in fall 2007. Beasley himself lives a very cushy life, also calling his very well-to-do former AAU coach Curtis Malone a second father, and living with Malone’s family in their plush suburban Maryland pad during all non-Kansas State time.
Beasley doesn’t really need that NBA paycheck just yet. It’s just being handed to him, and sure, why not, he’ll cash it today. Walker is desperate for it. It may be his last chance at a decent paycheck in life, a paycheck that could revitalize his current family and stabilize his future one.
It’s hard to call Bill Walker’s decision to enter the NBA draft early crazy when it may be his last shot at ending his family’s financial hardships. How many of those scouts and coaches and blog writers and TV personalities who say Beasley would be crazy to stay and Walker crazy to go have any idea what it’s like to be poor, to be blessed with some extraordinary talent that you have a chance to harness and ride out of poverty, to only see your lone opportunity to end your suffering slip away, moment by waking moment?
It’s never crazy to do whatever you have to do to try and provide.
So Bill, we'll hope for better news tomorrow, kid. Nobody wants the enduring image of your career to be you peeing in towels.
After a weekend of staid and expected results (*yawn* Germany beat Poland, Austria embarrassed themselves, the Swiss demonstrated why they really should stay neutral in all international events and Portugal...won. The bitches.) Euro 2008 has managed to go all kinds of crazy over the last two days.
First an upstart Romanian team playing completely out of their heads managed to tie France, one of the favorites. Fine, fine, France didn't lose, exactly, but they couldn't manage to hang a point on Romania- the assumed weakest team in Group C, the Group of Death. But hey. It's Euro 2008. We wouldn't get out of the first round without some wacky-ass tie.
Or, you know. A wacky-ass loss. Because that's what happened when the Oranje (the Netherlands) hung up three goals to Nil on Italy, the defending World Cup Champions. Now. One of those goals, the first from Ruud van Nistelrooy, was, to put it mildly, controversial. (This particular bitch, having spent the entirety of the 2006 World Cup shrieking at the Azzuri for being a bunch of flopping bitches, takes particular delight in recognizing that Italy went down by a goal because Christian Panucci was too busy flopping off the pitch to pay attention to what was happening in the game. Suck it, Azzuri.) In the end, it didn't matter, as Holland scored twice more as the Italians couldn't put a game together. They were sluggish, they were slow, they were old (every member of the team over 30) and it. Was. Beautiful.
In fact, it might have been the craziest thing to happen since this weekend, until this afternoon's first match- Spain v. Russia. Russia lost, of course, because European teams only falter in Russia in the winter, but that's not the news. The news is David Villa's hat trick of goals, the first hat trick in Euro play in eight years. Spain wound up spanking the Russians 4-1 thanks to a head in from My Arsenal Boyfriend Cesc Fabregas.
For his ridiculous performance against the Russians, David Villa gets the honor of today's picture post. Look, people, there are some shallow reasons I watch soccer, too.
No, this isn't a post about pitchers at Georgia Tech (though if we must bring up the subject, really, I'm semi-amused at the idea of this kid trekking into the ghettos of the ATL Shawty to get his herron fix). This is about me. That's what it's always about. Me, me, me.
I've been quiet lately, mainly because I'm starting a new job after my month of doing nothing except meeting guys who installed my cable and hanging out with pigeons and homeless people at the harbor. Man, I love Baltimore. But there's another caveat to this.
I've officially overdosed on basketball.
"Really? At the start of the most marquee finals match-up since...the Lakers and Celtics last met? And you really call yourself a basketball junkie?" I'm sure that's what you're saying as you read this. And yes, it makes me feel guilty. Or like a girl. Whatever. You win.
Yes, my friends and enemies, I have overdosed. I am tired. I have had enough. I can only take so much more of Jesus Shuttleworth suddenly losing the fundamental ability that carried his entire career, and putting odds on which 7 footer will drive to the basket less - KG or Gasol, and watching Kobe grow that disgusted look on his face as he realizes what his teammates capabilities are, and staged knee injury dramatics, and former Lakers/Celtics references, and blah blah blah...
The last minute of Game 2 solidified that I'm through. I tuned in, just at that point, after deciding that packing in my 100+ degree apartment was more enthralling. Lakers down 4, 22 seconds remaining. Kobe inbounding. Classic play, something I saw even those inept Pittsburgh Panthers run on a thousand occasions - inbound ball, inbounder immediately pops unnoticed off a backscreen, gets the ball, drains the shot. It's the simplest play ever that utilizes weak side defenses and speed and the stupidity of the opposing defense and blah blah blah...with the setting of NBA Finals, chance of going down 0-2, and the time/score situations, Kobe Bryant was made (MADE!) for this situation.
Ball inbounded to the top of the key. 21 seconds. Kobe's coming off the screen, open on the opposite wing. 19 seconds. Scramble at the top of the key, ARMS FLAILING ZOMG WHAT WILL WE DO, 14 seconds, one of those 30 Eastern Europeans on the Lakers launches up a shot (if, by launches up a shot, you mean presents the ball in Paul Pierce's face for him to block), EPIC FAIL, ball rolls out of bounds in slow motion before the Lakers get a foul, and the game is basically over. And Kobe touched the ball just once, in a place where he wasn't legally allowed to launch the ball at the basket, on a game-deciding situation.
Now, I'm not a Kobe fan by any means. I respect the hell out of the guy, but I think Shaq was his championship, team-winning career. It's nice that he managed to get the Lakers back to the Finals without Shaq, and that he's been trying so hard to shed his "ball-hog" image. But is this about image, or a championship? Because if championship (which IS the image he's trying to create now, that he can win without Shaq) is it, then Kobe should have basically told his teammates to hand him the ball or he'd have them killed in their sleep.
And even if he doesn't, it's a teammates' instinct to know who needs the ball when. It's also a teammates' instinct to know what their role is, and how much room they have to screw up. I know I mention the National Championship game very frequently, but look how that played out for the Jayhawks - about 2 minutes to go, Sherron Collins drives to the basket on a STUPID, selfish play, throwing up a wild shot in traffic with most of the shot clock remaining. He wanted to be the hero, and nearly killed it for Kansas. But then game-tying situation with less than 10, he wants to drive and kick back out, knowing MARIO CHALMERS is your guy to have the ball in these situations...and well, it didn't go QUITE according to plan, but he got Super Mario the ball, and well, the rest is history, ROCK CHALK JAYHAWKKKKKKKK!!!!!!
So, yawn. NBA Finals. Whatever. Wake me up for the NBA Draft - which even that has lost its luster. Call me when something crazy happens, like Sunday comes and Russell Westbrook still hasn't hired an agent. I'm looking forward to seeing UCLA run a 5 guard set next year.
However, what DOES have me excited on the basketball front is the premier of "Gunnin' For That #1 Spot", a streetball documentary made by Adam Yauch (of Beastie Boys fame), coming out in select cities (INCLUDING MINE!) on Friday, June 27. It's received great reviews as is, but you know me + streetball = THERE, but add in a certain someone named Michael Paul Beasley to the list and, well, yeah...
(Actually, I'm most pumped to see Brandon Jennings, whose game, hair, and attitude I have a huge crush on already...I'm SO not sad to see Jerryd Bayless leave after one year. Speaking of which, I've been watching reruns of Pac-10 play on FSN Pacific - yeah, no wonder I'm ODing, right? - and MAN, that conference was awful this year. I kinda knew it all along, the few times I saw U-C, L-A and USC play, but ugh...it was like Big East back in the day bad, with those low scoring, bad offense games.)
Anyways, point is, have a trailer, see the awesomeness, and maybe next time we speak, I'll be a bit more positive about the basketballs again.
So Los Bitches are having an email summit on the fact that we, uh, have kind of sucked at posting lately. Like, we have sucked at posting like Tony Romo sucks in the playoffs, or like Julio Lugo sucks in the infield. (That means we suck a lot.) That's going to change, rest assured.
Anyway, my point is this: As we're all talking, I'm watching the Portugal/Turkey Euro 2008 match that I taped earlier today and further injuring my already-on-fire-due-to-the-zombie-death-flu throat screaming at Portugal that I hope certain anatomically impossible things happen to them or to their grandmothers.
Most of my ire, though, has been aimed squarely at His Bitchiness Cristiano Ronaldo. Here's something you need to understand before we really get into the tournament: I. Motherfucking. Loathe. Cristiano Ronaldo. I hate him. I hate his stupid face. I hate his stupid half-mullet fauxhawk hairdo (Jackass in the Front, Douuuuuchebag in the back). I hate that he puts enough gel in his stupid hair to equip most of the Bleacher Creature contingent in Yankee Stadium for a week solid. I hatehatehate his stupid fucking stutterstep. (Although I loved it when he tried to pull one on a PK in the Champions League final, fooling exactly no one least of all Cesc in goal, and leading to missing the shot, which damn near killed his team's shot at repeating. It would have, too, had John Terry not slipped on the wet grass and missed HIS kick, a fact that made this Arsenal supporter's heart grow three sizes that day.)
I can't even watch him. I can't. Really. I know that he's going to pull off at least one ridiculous maneuver during every game that will leave everyone staring slackjawed at their screen trying to figure out HOW IN THE HELL HE DID THAT, and I'll still be punching a couch pillow in fury hoping that he dies painfully in a fire or develops some horrible genetic mutation, the result of which inivolves both kneecaps spontaneously shooting off his body mid-game and blinding him. Hate.
In short: Welcome to Euro 2008. Fuck Ronaldo, and fuck Portugal. Know those two things, abide by them, and we'll get along just fine this month.
So we've been a little remiss about updating. Apologies. This bitch was on vacation in Texas.
That said, today, I blew off some steam after work by going out after work for some drinks. Unfortunately, that means that I missed a basebrawl.
I missed a basebrawl involving my own team. I should have known better- I've been angling for a Sox/Rays fight since the beginning of the season. For some inexplicable reason, these teams get into it at least once a season, and it's usually a benches-clearing, crazy-suspensions debacle.
And I missed it. THERE WAS A FUCKING FIGHT AND I MISSED IT.
So my hometown Philadelphia Phillies may be eating their Wheaties, but they are apparently still hungry, as they are absolutely FEASTING on their opponent's pitching this week. In the last 23 innings, they have scored, as of this writing, FORTY TWO RUNS. 15 against Houston on Sunday, 20 against God's Team, Your National League Champion Colorado Rockies last night, and now seven in five innings against those same Rockies.
The 20-run game is especially sweet, as we had to suffer through the Phils being swept out of the playoffs at the hands of the Rockies due to some particularly lifeless bats and inconsistent pitching on the part of Los Philadelphia Phillies of Philadelphia. Sure, we could have used some of these runs back in October, but revenge is a dish best served cold, I suppose.
The Philadelphia-based bitches could not let last night pass without pointing out that Chase Utley, he of the dreamy eyes and dreamier dimples, had six RBI all on his lonesome last night. This fact sent this bitch dancing around her basement last night, despite the fact that he's not on my fantasy team, because anytime the Good Lord gives your favorite position player a six RBI night, it's cause for celebration.
Phear the Phightin's, y'all. They're coming after you. (Florida? You should probably look out. I wouldn't want to get in the way of this juggernaut.)
So it's a week later, the Chicago Bulls apparently held a knife to someone's throat during the NBA lottery drawing and now hold the magical rights to the one and only Derrick Rose choking on game winning FTs in the national championship game (WHICH NEVER GETS OLD TO WATCH!) in the 2008 NBA Draft. For them to say they plan to evaluate Michael Beasley and others is absurd. For one, Rose is the hometown kid. Duh, that's why I'm 99.9% sure that this was fixed. Someone needs to pump inspiration into the Bulls fans, who have had rough times since being spoiled in the 90s with MJ. They've been coming oh-so-close the last few years to regaining a half-ass form of that 90s magic with the Baby Bulls, but then you do something intelligent and draft Bozo the Clown and his marijuana plants, and sign 4'11" power forward who has never shown any remote ability to get a ball INSIDE a basket to a $6 billion deal, and you know, things don't really work out. It's getting REALLY bad when the Knicks win out on the hiring battle for coaches.
David Stern knew it would be a bit fishy to rig the lottery once again for the Knicks, so the Bulls are the next best bet. It didn't seem TOO weird to anyone, until you think about what the Bulls once meant to the NBA and Chicago (obviously, one of the largest markets), and how they haven't QUITE YET alienated their fans, but they're on the brink of doing so. The NBA has learned not to let its star ships sink too much, so they're trying to fix the Bulls while they're still salvageable.
Anyways, in basketball-terms, I am an extreme endorser in drafting proven point guards first. Derrick Rose is that. We know he can work on a team full of good/great players and people who need the ball a lot. We know he can lead a team and only cracks on the free throw line under pressure (See: final minutes against Kansas and Tennessee). We know he's quick, smart, enjoys a fine meal of gummy bears and honey buns, has a debilitating fear of needles (so no need to worry that he'll ever become a heroin junkie), and is the great Poohdini. And really, what more could you ask from the #1 pick and future of your franchise?
So all of this has Dwyane Wade depressed. Dwyane has stated outright that if the Heat were to get the #1 pick (as they laughably didn't), he would want Rose over Beasley any day of the week. Understandable. And if you didn't know, franchise players pretty much run the team. GMs and such are just there for job titles. Dwyane Wade is of the same vain as players like Kobe Bryant, LeBron James, etc. The Heat would be nothing without Wade, and to keep him there, he must be happy.
Wade is spending his off-season working off the 400 lbs he probably gained hanging out with his lover Star Jones while not actually playing this last season with Tim Grover in the Chi. Grover is coincidentally also preparing several clients for the upcoming NBA Draft. One of them just so happens to be the one and only Ovinton J'Anthony Mayo, better known to the world as Orange Juice Mayonnaise/OJ Mayo/The Latest Guy from USC to Get Illegally Paid.
OJ has always been a combo guard, and Grover has been working with him to particularly refine his point guard skills to raise his stock by making him a well-rounded NBA guard. His PG skills were seen by few in college. He had the ball in his hands plenty, and was hot and cold on making smart decisions with it. One of OJ's admirable basketball qualities is that he's one of the few guards who shoots a LOT of shots, but not too many 3s. As his freshman year wore on, he knew to be careful about forcing that risky shot, and subsequently was nearly a 41% 3pt shooter. But otherwise, he was susceptable to turnovers (which you expect with younger players who handle the ball a lot), and wasn't getting his teammates involved like a true point guard does. He was a combo guard. The end.
But Dwyane has been there while Tim Grover has been working on OJ. And as all reports indicate, he's becoming a swell PG. They have him going through drills that force him to make quick decisions, and he's earning As. Dwyane likes what he sees. And because he knows he can't have Rose, he now supposedly wants OJ.
I understand why Wade wants a point guard. They're the fundamental basis of a team, the difference-makers, etc. Look at CP3, Tony Parker, Deron Williams, etc. But why is he so seemingly opposed to Lil' Mike? And why is he getting obsessed with a guy who ISN'T a natural point guard?
Wade needs to remember that his championship was due in large part to Shaq. Now, Lil' Mike ain't no Shaq, even in his waning years of dominance. But big men CAN make a difference, if they play aggressive enough. See: KG in Boston on the nights he cares to own everyone. The East is still the East, and even the West has lost its big man dominance as the oldies (Chris Webber, Tim Duncan, Kevin Garnett, Elton Brand) have fallen and aged. Wade wants a guy down low who can compliment him and open up some space for him when he drives. Nobody is caring what Udonis Haslem does. But they'll care about Beasley.
Oh, but Wade wants a guy who can hit some outside shots and extend the D. Was I the only one who watched Mike hit 38% from 3? And how many guards or forwards are going to be able to consistently guard a 6'9" man's outside shot?
I am tired of the unproven upside being more valuable than proven commodities. Yes, OJ Mayo will probably be awesome. But we already know Lil' Mike is awesome, and nobody is asking him to do anything we DIDN'T already see him do in college. Bonus is, he has the pressure off him to lead the Heat and make them better, because that is Wade's job. Or maybe he's just sending the message that he doesn't want that responsibility anymore because he wants to get fat with his new girlfriend.
It is not lost on me that in my time on earth I have been smitten by two large Texas-bred pitchers on the Boston Red Sox, twenty years apart. In the mid-eighties I was enthralled by Roger Clemens, now it is Josh Beckett. When you have been a baseball fan as long as I have you see similarities, glimpse ghosts of legends. When I watch Beckett pitch I see a young Rocket, dominating, fiery, fist-pumping and hitter-taunting. On the surface, yes, they are alike. But how they handle their notoriety? Quite, quite different.
Pat Jordan, a former Sports Illustrated staffer, wrote an eye-opening piece on Clemens in 2001. This year, he writes about trying to get an interview with Beckett for Slate and getting shot down. For comparison, an excerpt from the Clemens piece:
A French dilettante once said, ''I am such an egotist that if I were to write about a chair I'd find some way to write about myself.'' Clemens's egotism is more childlike and innocent. He doesn't realize that he sees himself as the center of his small universe, at the center of every story he tells. The man having the heart attack becomes a bit player; the point of the story is the interruption of Clemens's "good run."
From the Beckett article:
But, still, I thought it was a shame Josh wouldn't let me profile him in the Times. I had a long lunch with him a few years ago, when he was with the Florida Marlins, and came away thinking he was an interesting young man. At the time, and even now, Beckett had a reputation for being a surly, hard-ass, rednecked, Texas country boy in the way of old-timey ballplayers. But the Josh I met over lunch was smart, caustic, funny, sophisticated, and a much deeper and more nuanced man than his public gave him credit for. I would have loved to have burnished his image, to have shown his fans that side of him in a profile. But it wasn't to be. His fans then lost an opportunity to know the real Josh Beckett.
As a long-ago camera commercial once proclaimed, image is everything. On the surface, it's easy to say that Clemens and Beckett are cut from the same mold, but in reading these articles it's plain that they are not. Since everything has broken about Clemens many have asked me--how do you defend him? How can you still like him? They're not easy questions to answer, but I think I can say this--Clemens was after the brass ring, wanting to be mentioned in the same breath as Nolan Ryan, Tom Seaver, Steve Carlton. When he was younger Beckett said the same things, but as he matured he's become quieter, tougher on himself. Clemens merely looked at stuff like bad games as roadbumps on his way to the Hall of Fame.
I don't think Roger Clemens is a bad person. I think he got caught up in his own hype. I also think Josh Beckett, who has claimed Clemens as a hero numerous times, is watching Clemens and making notes to himself--"don't end up like that."
Bah. Whatever. Congratulations, you bunch of douchebags. Now go cry on the field a little more, Cristiano.
PS: As an Arsenal fan, it gives me no small measure of glee to note that Didier Drogba and his red-carded ass was a complete nonentity in the second half. SUCK ON THAT.
For all my practiced bitterness and devil-may-care attitude, that was a fucking RIDICULOUS game. Seriously, two extra fifteens, and it still went to penalty kicks to decide the entire league, and this is after Drogba was sent off with a red card for slapping(!)Vidic aross the face in the middle of a last minute almost-brawl. (It should be noted that Tevez, the jackass who started the whole fucking fracas, got a yellow card.) Oh, and did I mention that the guy who missed the crucial kick that would have given his side the championship was one John Terry? Who just happens to be the captain of the fucking team?
I'm no Chelsea fan, but if I was, I might consider catatonia a blessing right about now. That must have been painful.
God, fuck the Champions League. Is it Euro time yet?
I refuse to put up a picture of Man U celebrating. Instead, have a picture of Drogba getting his incredibly well-timed red card while backed up by that traitorous bastard Ashley Cole.
Diversion of the Day: Don't be shocked when the Spurs and Pistons meet in a couple weeks in the NBA Finals. Consistency is key to winning. The end. Plus, I'm just NOT sold in particular on the Celtics. Besides Jesus Shuttleworth's amazing disappearing act, Tayshaun Prince's ridiculously long arms will bother the hell out of Paul Pierce, so don't expect too many more 40 point explosions. The ex-factor is Billups vs. Rondo. Billups has the size to outplay him, but the hurting hammy may slow him down and let Rondo speed around him. I can't figure out the Spurs, but the Lakers are their easiest matchup this playoffs since the only concern is pretty much Kobe, and even Bruce Bowen can curb that a bit. Ruben Patterson will be smiling from some jail cell.
Anyways, about a month ago, my dear friend Dylan and I discussed purchasing the Memphis Grizzlies. Cheap buy with potential to grow into something huge, as long as you fool people into thinking they're attending the REAL Memphis basketball team's games. That's an easy one though - we've devised a plan to pass out watered down whiskey shots while Mike Miller and John Calipari sing "It's Hard Out Here For a Pimp", and by the time the fans enter Fed-Ex Forum, they'll be so dazed and confused that they won't realize the basketball players aren't wearing blue and white uniforms.
All kidding aside, the Grizz have potential. They have a solid young core that doesn't really seem to be on the verge of a meltdown or drug bust. They've adopted the Suns run-and-gun offense thanks to Coach Iavaroni, and it's worked out to their advantage as they outscored teams down the stretch of the season, getting 8 of their 22 wins in the final month of a half. They just need to learn some defense tactics, stay healthy, and figure out what to do with their front line.
The Grizz have a strong shot at getting the #1 or #2 picks in the NBA Draft Lottery tonight, which is normally a wonderful thing if your GM is intelligent enough to not draft Kwame Brown (ironically, currently on the Grizz's roster). With Derrick Rose and Michael Beasley being the stars of this draft class, busts are unlikely to happen in the first two picks. But what happens when you have the top 2 picks, and both of these people would cause issues for your team?
Obviously, Derrick Rose going from a Tiger to a Grizzly would make little sense when Mike Conley Junior already has the PG spot locked up, and my Philly boy Kyle Lowry as a fine backup. Conley was injured for a chunk of his rookie season, but considering that he had a solid year - low turnover rates, steadily rising numbers shooting and assist-wise, having to learn a new offense in a new league with your shoulder falling off, that sort of thing. I'm impressed alone with him averaging 10 points and over 5 assists in his first semi-full month of playing in January. Point is though, why do you need another point guard, and would Derrick Rose be that drastic of an improvement over Mike Conley? No. Duh. And the Atlanta Hawks and New York Knicks have proved that stockpiling 15 guys who play the same position doesn't help build that good of a basketball team.
So the answer is clearly Lil' Mike, right? Who DOESN'T want a guy who can throw up a floater in traffic, miss, sky for his own offensive rebound, and put the shot back on a fadeaway in even MORE traffic (Yes, that moment actually happened)?
Well...maybe the Grizzlies. See, there's this guy named Rudy Gay on the Grizz. Maybe you've heard of him. Just 2 years ago, just like Lil' Mike, supposedly the most talented guy in college basketball. He didn't put up Mike's jaw-dropping numbers at UConn, but he had that same ridiculous "potential" tag on him - and similar to Mike, everyone questioned whether or not he truly wanted to be great and could lead a team to win. Unlike Mike, Rudy played on a team full of great talent (Emeka Okafor, Josh Boone, Marcus Williams, and about 75 other guys currently in jail or on NBA rosters), which explains why he didn't really NEED to be third in the nation in scoring for UConn to be good.
He had a yawn-inducing rookie season in the NBA, but doubled his scoring average this year to 20 ppg, and actually started becoming a well-rounded player. I got used to reading Rudy Gay stat lines along the lines of: 22 pts, 6-35 FG, 1 reb, 0 assts, 6 TOs, and then he started caring and averaged about 6 boards a game, and even began consistently racking up assists and steals. So Rudy Gay is becoming the star everyone thought he would be someday. That's good. Great teams need a star to win. Period.
But Rudy Gay is like Michael Beasley - he's a star only when the ball runs through him most of the time. And if you put them on a team together, what will happen? Most likely, you'll get the Antoine Walker/Paul Pierce-led Celtics - 2 guys putting up ridiculous numbers while their team put up mediocre performances.
Look at all the recent college and NBA champions. With the exception of the Lakers of this early decade (which had the most dominant, unstoppable player in recent memory with Shaq-in-his-prime, who put up 40 and 20 like he was Wilt Chamberlain), they were all your prototypical well-rounded team, with fairly even shot distribution. They all had at least one consistent star, with several other guys who could step it up when it mattered. One and Two man shows just DON'T get it done, unless they have a Shaq. Lil' Mike is pretty amazing, but he's not Shaq. Nobody is.
So do you risk imploding your team because Lil' Mike and Rudy will average over 40 shot attempts per game between them? They would make an excellent front court tandem, and also often risk never getting into a flow together because they both NEED their shots to get comfortable. If you think that's not true for Mike, look at K-State's first round victory against USC, where Mike didn't get it going until late because he spent the first half in foul trouble.
The Grizz COULD use a true big man - Hakim Warrick played excellent offensively after the Gasol trade, but he's not the dominant 4 man you need to win in the West. They could also use a new 2 guard - Mike Miller is alright, but an upgrade wouldn't hurt.
So aren't they better off falling in the 3-6 range? Getting a chance to draft DeAndre Jordan or Eric Gordon may be the best thing for this team. They'd probably make an impact, and DON'T need the ball in their hand at every moment. Gordon is much more polished than Jordan, but 1 in every 10 7-footers HAVE to work out. I think we're due since Dwight Howard, right?
So, I'm gonna pray the lottery is rigged and the Knicks get the #1 pick and the Sonics #2 (D. Stern needs to ensure the Sonics find a new fan base), and the Grizzlies don't ever have to think about destroying their team with the 2 best players in the Draft. Although getting Lil' Mike to join Miller and Calipari for a rendition of "It's Hard Out Here For a Pimp" would be pretty awesome.
