Jerome James Played Tonight.

He got in with four minutes to go, the Knicks up 25. Stood by the scorer's table with a big grin on his face. Hit his first shot (a fallaway in the paint), grabbed a rebound or two, even threw in a between-the-legs dribble before, well, shooting an airball. Every move had the guys on the bench going nuts.

The way he got up and down the court made Malik Rose look like Usain Bolt, but it was good to see Big Snacks finally get some run. Er, jog. Sometimes dreams do come true.

FREE TYRUS THOMAS!

Four-for-four all on dunks against the Nets tonight—in the first half.

Best protect ya neck.





(Actually, I'm not positive they were all dunks, but he had a two-handed reverse off a Hughes 'oop that should count as four anyway.)


UPDATE: Tyrus apparently suffered a hyperextended neck in a collision with one of his own teammates, and may not play in the second half. Terrific.

UPDATE II: Judging from the dunk he just threw down, I guess he's recovered somewhat. If Vinny doesn't keep giving him minutes, I won't be held responsible for my actions.

Hey Mo! You're Fired!

With his Brand-name Sixers off to a 9-14 start—and losers of eight of their last 10—Mo Cheeks is out in Philly. If you're keeping track, that's five NBA coaches fired before Christmas. Happy Holidays! You can read about Mo's ouster in various media outlets, or just watch this instead:

Y Me

Throughout my entire childhood, I only played one season of organized basketball. It was a mere blip—a layover in between Little League (which I played for all of two seasons) and soccer (which took me through my freshman year of high school).

Later on, I played hours upon hours of pick-up at the University of Delaware and became (in my humble opinion) a decent recreational player. Much like Allen Iverson, I took great joy in playing the passing lanes and gambling for steals. Unlike Allen Iverson, was virtually everything else.

But when I played my one season for the YMCA, I was awful. Completely and truly awful. I wore number 47, and, as best as I can recollect, didn't score a single point. My physique was reminiscient of Manute Bol, only two feet shorter and infinitely paler. I'm not sure whether I quit because I was bad, or because my parents mercifully declined to renew my contract. Thankfully, they documented my experience with this single photograph:

That would be me playing Auerbachian defense. Hopefully the girl in the background became either a supermodel or Rebecca Lobo.

While I wish I remembered more, at least my parents didn't own a video camera.

Oh, Hai(ku)

Is anyone there?
Am I typing for myself?
Readers, please comment.

I'd just like to know
Who, if anyone, is there
Or if I'm alone

Sorry to do this
I don't mean to intervene
Back to the background

Updates to follow
On the semi-regular
Most likely in verse

Presstzel

One of the best things about the New York Knicks pressroom used to be the halftime pretzels. Served up warm from one of those rotisserie things they have at the concession stands, then liberally smeared with Gulden's Spicy Brown, the massive New York pretzels were the perfect antidote to the first half of alleged basketball you'd just witnessed.

Wait a minute.

"Used to be"?

"Were"?

Alas, yes. Apparently downsizing isn't limited to Wall Street bankers and members of the old media. Behold, the new pressroom pretzel:


Sigh.

Suns Trade

Goodnight Bell and Diaw
Thank you for everything
It won't be the same

*****

Aloha, J-Rich
You would have liked D'Antoni
Sorry about that

******

Hello, Amar'e?
We just used our '10 capspace.
Hello? Amar'e?

******

Hey Steve? This is Steve.
We traded your friend Raja.
Can you play defense?

Yi, Mack

Just so you know, the Nets are serious about promoting Yi Jianlian to the potential Chinese audience. I saw this poster a couple weeks ago in Chinatown.


Devin, Vince, and James Taylor are bummed.

Bad Meaning Bad, Not Bad Meaning Good

So I think I'm gonna start sporadically updating this thing—sporadically meaning "more than once every three months." I can't promise something every day, but I'll at least make a good-faith effort. What will it be? I have no idea. But I'll let y'all know when I do on my Twitter feed (I know, I know). So yeah, follow that.

Since I'm here, I might as well make some basketball-related points:

• Is it just me, or are the bad teams particularly bad this season? I don't know whether statistical analysis would back this up (and I don't care enough to look anything up), but I DO know that of the four ESPN/TNT games last Thursday and Friday, all of them involved 20-point leads at one point, and none of them were remotely competitive. Maybe it's a combination of the bad teams being really bad and the good teams being really good. Whatever it is, it doesn't make for very compelling games.

• The Detroit Pistons, as constructed last year, were like a solid rock band. I'm not sure who—say, Coldplay. Not Radiohead or anything, not the Stones, but a solid band that sold plenty of records (do bands still do that?) and had plenty of fans and all that. Most importantly, they were a cohesive unit. The Iverson trade was the equivalent of dropping Gwyneth's husband and replacing him with David Lee Roth. I mean, yes, it was a major shake-up, and it could lead to new and interesting things, but did anyone pause to consider whether it would SOUND good? (Michael Curry seems supremely overmatched as well, but that's for another time.) Now it seems like AI isn't happy, and neither are his new teammates. In other words, this looks like a lose/lose. Can we start to re-assess Joe Dumars's skills as a general manager? (That's for another time too, I suppose.)

• The first thing Donnie Walsh should have done as Knicks GM was write Stephon Marbury a $23 million check.

• I know it's awfully early, but I think David Stern gets the manna-from-heaven gift of a Cavs/Lakers Finals. That is, unless the Spurs ruin it.

• Not that it means much for the summer of '10, but if I were an NBA player, there'd be worse alternatives than playing for max money for Mike D'Antoni.

• There are no words for Darko Milicic channeling his inner Hulk Hogan.

• And finally, a haiku:

Jared Jeffries is
Mid-level exceptional
If you like charges