This rain on the East Coast is just out of control. It's been going strong for either five or six days straight—I can't even remember anymore—so far, and it might end tomorrow, or it might go until Monday. If it stops tomorrow, that's fine. But if it rains until Monday, I may go insane. Or start collecting two of each animal on the planet, which might be viewed the same as going insane anyway.
Bought the Dangerdoom record today, which is HIGHLY recommended. MF Doom x Danger Mouse x Adult Swim. Only listened to it the once, but it's pretty amazing. There's a Doom/Ghostface collabo, which was long overdue, and just plenty of Doomosity. The only complaint I have is bleeped-out curses on the first track (I think that was the only one) which are sort of annoying. And I don't think I accidentally got the censored version, either. In fact, I doubt there are two versions.
The game tonight is starting at 8 again, despite being on the West Coast. Quite different from the first round, which had one of the Padres games starting at 11 Eastern. A baseball playoff game starting at 11 Eastern? Who does MLB think they are, the NBA? Actually, the only way to trivialize the first round more would have been to broadcast the games on the Lifetime network.
Leading up to the game I'm watching the end of "Evil Alien Conquerors" on Showtime Next. It's seriously one of the worst movies ever, and if you ever watch the entire thing you'll find yourself questioning the continued existence of the human race. Put it this way—Tori Spelling plays a pretty big role in it and she doesn't even get credited. And it's not like Tori doesn't need the credits. Of course now I've watched the whole thing roughly twice, which doesn't say much for the continued existence of me. This movie could actually warrant an entire post, especially the fourth-rate Jack Black who plays Croker (whose name is Tyler Labine—he also played John Belushi in "Behind the Camera: The Unauthorized Story of 'Mork & Mindy'").
On to the game.
Friday, October 14, 2005
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Some CS, Game 1 Or 2, Diary
Um, interestingly enough, Fox and FX are both showing the same telecast right now, with no word as to which game will be on which channel. Awesome. I fully intend to watch some of the Cards/Astros tonight, assuming it ends up on one of the channels. Not that I hate the Yankees or anything, but I hope Andy Pettitte throws a perfect game. (That also has nothing to do with the fact that my ex-girlfriend is from St. Louis.) For the record, Kevin Kennedy on two channels is two channels too many. Not really feeling the fake Kyra Sedgwick, either. CAN SOMEONE LET ME KNOW WHAT CHANNEL I SHOULD BE ON, PLEASE? (I should also mention that I'm probably only keeping this tonight until my girlfriend gets here, which means it may cut off rather abruptly. My bad.)
Wow, a snippet of the Pixies? An old band, which is par for the course, but a GOOD one? The sky is falling!
Incidentally, I just flicked back and forth, and there are NOT the same commercials on each channel. Just so you know.
All three Molina brothers are playing at once? Rad. But what the heck is that sun thing on Craig Biggio's hat?
Commercial note: Yes, you actually can smell Taco Bell from outside. But usually that's AFTER someone's eaten it.
I still have no idea which channel either game is going to be on. Thank God that I don't really care about any of the four teams. I suppose I'll find out shortly. Right now I'm gambling on FX for the NLCS. Come on, baby.
I CAN'T HANDLE THE PRESSURE!!!!!
Yes!!! I win!!! Um, yeah, I thrive for small victories. This announcing crew scares me more than the McCarver/Piniella/Buck group, actually. I sense a lot of flicking back and forth. Also, Bob Brenly looks preserved. And I think he just said "the team that can manufacture runs is the team that's going to win." Jesus. No wonder why I don't watch baseball anymore. Public Enemy was nice there, though. The Pixies, P.E., Bob Brenly, the Cardinals—is this 1988? Where's John Tudor?
Van Hagar. Yep, it's '88. And they wonder why the kids aren't as into baseball anymore.
Lotta red in that stadium. Drop a Crip in there and watch him flip out.
Chris Carpenter's hat is disgusting. Not as bad as John Wetteland's used to be, but then again I've seen subway cars cleaner than John Wetteland's hat. For the record, it was touted at the end of the ALCS Game One that you wouldn't miss a minute of either game tonight because they were on different channels. As a part of the TiVO-less world, I'd like to ask the geniuses at Fox/MLB how, exactly, that's possible when both games start at the same time?
Jim Edmonds and hos over-the-shoulder catches. Bet that miss hurt a lot. Kind of hard to call it a "defensive mistake," though, I think.
OK, this Bud Light commercial with "the Bomber" is an insult to baseball, Babe Ruth, history, humanity, and other things that I just haven't thought of yet. Also, Bud Light tastes like cat piss, and Babe Ruth would have sooner drank the juice from one of his popped hemmorhoids than a Bud Light. Or anything with "Light" in the name, for that matter.
Can't really overstate this enough, but has anyone out there actually tasted Bud? Do they NEED a "Light" variety? Seriously, it's like having Evian Light.
Guess there won't be a perfect game tonight. Bummer. Way to ruin my dreams, Eckstein. You could have at least waited until the second pitch to add some drama.
Bet Jim Edmonds is psyched to have a dirty uniform already. Boosts the eBay value, and makes it look like he's really trying. Sure, he missed the ball, but it's not like he gave up a run or anything.
Despite the fact that this game is on FX, it's a Fox broadcast, so the same sound effects are in use. Thank God. And apparently the White Sox are winning already, which is nice if you're a fan of that staid franchise. And having seen the highlight, how does a PITCHER miss a throw to first by that much? Somewhere, Rick Ankiel is laughing.
Hey, I might be a lapsed baseball fan, but I DO know this much—do NOT pitch to a guy named Reggie in October. 2-0, Cards. Way to go, Pettitte. Jerk. Nice socks.
Meatnormous, meatnormous. No.
I'm not gonna last much longer tonight. The commercials are worse than the game, and the game pretty much sucks.
In fact...
Wow, a snippet of the Pixies? An old band, which is par for the course, but a GOOD one? The sky is falling!
Incidentally, I just flicked back and forth, and there are NOT the same commercials on each channel. Just so you know.
All three Molina brothers are playing at once? Rad. But what the heck is that sun thing on Craig Biggio's hat?
Commercial note: Yes, you actually can smell Taco Bell from outside. But usually that's AFTER someone's eaten it.
I still have no idea which channel either game is going to be on. Thank God that I don't really care about any of the four teams. I suppose I'll find out shortly. Right now I'm gambling on FX for the NLCS. Come on, baby.
I CAN'T HANDLE THE PRESSURE!!!!!
Yes!!! I win!!! Um, yeah, I thrive for small victories. This announcing crew scares me more than the McCarver/Piniella/Buck group, actually. I sense a lot of flicking back and forth. Also, Bob Brenly looks preserved. And I think he just said "the team that can manufacture runs is the team that's going to win." Jesus. No wonder why I don't watch baseball anymore. Public Enemy was nice there, though. The Pixies, P.E., Bob Brenly, the Cardinals—is this 1988? Where's John Tudor?
Van Hagar. Yep, it's '88. And they wonder why the kids aren't as into baseball anymore.
Lotta red in that stadium. Drop a Crip in there and watch him flip out.
Chris Carpenter's hat is disgusting. Not as bad as John Wetteland's used to be, but then again I've seen subway cars cleaner than John Wetteland's hat. For the record, it was touted at the end of the ALCS Game One that you wouldn't miss a minute of either game tonight because they were on different channels. As a part of the TiVO-less world, I'd like to ask the geniuses at Fox/MLB how, exactly, that's possible when both games start at the same time?
Jim Edmonds and hos over-the-shoulder catches. Bet that miss hurt a lot. Kind of hard to call it a "defensive mistake," though, I think.
OK, this Bud Light commercial with "the Bomber" is an insult to baseball, Babe Ruth, history, humanity, and other things that I just haven't thought of yet. Also, Bud Light tastes like cat piss, and Babe Ruth would have sooner drank the juice from one of his popped hemmorhoids than a Bud Light. Or anything with "Light" in the name, for that matter.
Can't really overstate this enough, but has anyone out there actually tasted Bud? Do they NEED a "Light" variety? Seriously, it's like having Evian Light.
Guess there won't be a perfect game tonight. Bummer. Way to ruin my dreams, Eckstein. You could have at least waited until the second pitch to add some drama.
Bet Jim Edmonds is psyched to have a dirty uniform already. Boosts the eBay value, and makes it look like he's really trying. Sure, he missed the ball, but it's not like he gave up a run or anything.
Despite the fact that this game is on FX, it's a Fox broadcast, so the same sound effects are in use. Thank God. And apparently the White Sox are winning already, which is nice if you're a fan of that staid franchise. And having seen the highlight, how does a PITCHER miss a throw to first by that much? Somewhere, Rick Ankiel is laughing.
Hey, I might be a lapsed baseball fan, but I DO know this much—do NOT pitch to a guy named Reggie in October. 2-0, Cards. Way to go, Pettitte. Jerk. Nice socks.
Meatnormous, meatnormous. No.
I'm not gonna last much longer tonight. The commercials are worse than the game, and the game pretty much sucks.
In fact...
Oi! Football* fans!
Nothing much today (for now, at least). Just that, if you're a fan of English football*, do yourself a favor. Go to the link below, and start having the Fiver delivered to your inbox. It gets sent out at 5 p.m. British time (which means we get it here on the East Coast around noon). It's probably the best daily sportswriting, bar none.
http://football.guardian.co.uk/fiver/
* football = soccer
http://football.guardian.co.uk/fiver/
* football = soccer
ALCS Game 1, Part 2
The only thing better than a miked manager is a miked pitching coach. Lou: "Bud is an intelligent guy, and he handles himself quite well." Um, as is roughly 75 percent of the world.
New catcher's helmets/masks are kind of cool, I guess, but I still miss the backwards batting helmet and separate mask. Then again, I also miss the bullpen cars with the big hats as roofs and Dave Kingman, so that doesn't mean much.
Incidentally, the only thing I've exclaimed while drinking a Coors Light was "Ugh! Isn't there ANYTHING else?" Guess that wouldn't make for a very positive commercial, though. Also, the liquid metal impalas are WAY cooler than the new Chevy Impala which shouldn't be bought by ANYONE except rental fleets and police forces.
The Angels helmets actually look like they're covered in melted marshmallows. Half S'mores? Or maybe creme brulee?
I can't decide whether the actual game is boring or I just don't care much. I'm guess it's a combination of both.
I absolutely love that two Molina brothers both catch for the Angels. What the hell are the odds of that? (The fact that the starter is named "Bengie" is even better.)
(On the phone...please hold.)
OK, back. Two outs, top of the 7th. Steee-rike three! Contreras is pretty damn nasty (if a little wild). Can see why he throws so many wild pitches, why he gets stolen on so much AND why he's so good. And it's all the same reason. He also looks a little like Shawn Kemp, which is awesome.
How exactly is August Busch IV or whatever a "brewmaster"? Was Dave Thomas a chef?
It's the bottom of the seventh and Aaron Rowand came up, and I assumed he was a pinch hitter. Nope, apparently he's been playing all game. News to me. And Byrd plunks him in the back with the first pitch. Well, at least he didn't walk him, right?
You hardly ever see a baseball player who's entirely clean-shaven. Damn late starts.
Wait, is Tim Raines still known as "Rock"?
The Flintstones in a Midas commercial. Deep breaths, deep breaths.
McCarver, Piniella and Buck are slowly morphing into one, überannoying announcer.
Paying attention to baseball on TV is hard.
OK, I'm done.
New catcher's helmets/masks are kind of cool, I guess, but I still miss the backwards batting helmet and separate mask. Then again, I also miss the bullpen cars with the big hats as roofs and Dave Kingman, so that doesn't mean much.
Incidentally, the only thing I've exclaimed while drinking a Coors Light was "Ugh! Isn't there ANYTHING else?" Guess that wouldn't make for a very positive commercial, though. Also, the liquid metal impalas are WAY cooler than the new Chevy Impala which shouldn't be bought by ANYONE except rental fleets and police forces.
The Angels helmets actually look like they're covered in melted marshmallows. Half S'mores? Or maybe creme brulee?
I can't decide whether the actual game is boring or I just don't care much. I'm guess it's a combination of both.
I absolutely love that two Molina brothers both catch for the Angels. What the hell are the odds of that? (The fact that the starter is named "Bengie" is even better.)
(On the phone...please hold.)
OK, back. Two outs, top of the 7th. Steee-rike three! Contreras is pretty damn nasty (if a little wild). Can see why he throws so many wild pitches, why he gets stolen on so much AND why he's so good. And it's all the same reason. He also looks a little like Shawn Kemp, which is awesome.
How exactly is August Busch IV or whatever a "brewmaster"? Was Dave Thomas a chef?
It's the bottom of the seventh and Aaron Rowand came up, and I assumed he was a pinch hitter. Nope, apparently he's been playing all game. News to me. And Byrd plunks him in the back with the first pitch. Well, at least he didn't walk him, right?
You hardly ever see a baseball player who's entirely clean-shaven. Damn late starts.
Wait, is Tim Raines still known as "Rock"?
The Flintstones in a Midas commercial. Deep breaths, deep breaths.
McCarver, Piniella and Buck are slowly morphing into one, überannoying announcer.
Paying attention to baseball on TV is hard.
OK, I'm done.
ALCS Game 1, Part 1
Oh, what the hell. I'm watching this thing for whatever reason. I might as well keep some sort of a running diary. As always, apologies to Bill Simmons. Seeing that I don't really care about the Angels, the White Sox OR baseball in general, this has the potential to get REALLY far off track. Well, we can hope. Anyways, I'm better off watching this than "The Day After Tomorrow" again.
P.S. I'm so happy the Yankees lost. Ha ha. Don't tell anyone. Also, just a thought: if Bernie Williams had been playing centerfield, he probably wouldn't have been fast enough to get to right and collide with Gary Sheffield, and Sheff might have caught that ball, and the Yankees might have won. Again, ha ha.
Feeling the White Sox's sleeveless pinstriped jerseys (with black shirts underneath). Also, I absolutely love the black Sox hat (does Dr. Dre get royalties?), but I absolutely hate the fact that it made damn near every other team adopt a black alternate uniform. Black Mets hats? Ugh. That said, given the popularity of black hats, is anyone out there rocking umpirehats? That would be gangsta.
Scooter the animated baseball sucks.
Why do all the Angels's helmets look like they spent too much time in a Betty Crocker E-Z Bake Oven? Stupid pine tar.
Baseball announcers have WAY too much time between pitches and hitters and the like to pontificate on anything and everything. An alternate audio track that just contained the real sounds of the stadium would be quite welcome. And why the heck are there three people in the booth anyway? How much analysis do we really need?
Fox Sports graphics are unspeakably awful. The sound effects are even worse. What ever happened to less is more?
Vladimir Guerrero's hair is rad, but I still don't believe he shattered the moon. And A-Rod shouldn't be allowed to be seen hitting in the post-season, even in commercials.
Paul Byrd looks a lot like Beecher from Oz when he was at his most ragged.
Not sure which is creepier, the Burger King or those heart-attack inducing breakfast sandwiches he's pushing. Mmmm, a thousand-calorie breakfast sandwich with almost all of it coming from pork fat. Where do I sign up?
The opposition is 28 for 30 in stolen bases against Jose Contreras? How is that even possible? Does he have a habit of catching the ball on its way back up the middle or something?
Chone Figgins is possibly the best name in professional sports. Top 10 for sure. The fact that he can basically play any position is a bonus.
Have I mentioned how bad the sound effects are? I know it would put someone out of work to lose them, but it would also make the telecast a lot more enjoyable. It's a baseball game, not Top Gun.
Correction: Paul Byrd looks like Beecher after he spent a month in solitary. No-hitter through 2, though. Woo-hoo!!
Running into the second baseman/shortstop to break up a double-play must be the most fun thing to do in baseball.
Garrett Anderson has a clean helmet? What's wrong with him?
I'd like to petition that the Knicks be herefore known as the Manhattan Knicks of New York.
Pete Coors is a creepy bastard. Also, how can a beer taste "cold"? Is that what he said?
Love when the stupid montage of jittery clips makes them miss the first pitch of an inning.
"Paul Byrd is like a crafty lefthander who's just right handed." Excuse me? What the hell does that mean? Actually, it means that his next pitch gets rocked out of the park by some mulleted White Sock. Maybe he SHOULD try throwing with his left. P.S. So much for the no-hitter.
Ever since that inane statement, Byrd is getting killed. Home run, hard drive straight to Anderson, base hit up the middle.
Wait, Tim Raines is the Sox first base coach? Awesome. Byrd gives up another rip. Jermaine Dye coming up. He might not last the inning at this rate. Too bad Bartolo Colon is already out for the series with strained fat.
OK, he lasted the inning. And thank God it's over, because the platitudes were getting dangerous.
Commercials during sporting events are so predictable it's nauseating. Not a male between 18 and 35? Sorry! By the end of this game I'll be praying for a tampon commercial. And I won't get it.
Apparently Lou Piniella is in charge of obviousness tonight. "When I look for catchers, I look for ones that win baseball games." Good theory, Lou. When I look for apples, I look for ones that aren't rotten and full of worms. We should hang out.
Coors, Applebees, State Farm, Land Rover, Midas, Citibank, "Prison Break." Put 'em all together and what do you got? A suburb I don't want to live in!
Someone really needs to point out that, hectic travel schedule or not, apparently Paul Byrd hasn't slept since October of '95.
Interviewing managers in mid-game is really, really stupid. The next time one says something insightful will be the first. And they cut away from the actual game to show this stuff?
Now batting, Carl Everett, who still doesn't believe in dinosaurs. And Tim McCarver just called the White Sox—the only team in the majors that ever wore SHORTS as part of their uniform—staid. Why, because they're white?
The Angels dugout jackets are really nice. Surprised they haven't mentioned where to get them yet.
"One of the secrets for Paul Byrd today is that he hasn't given up a walk yet"? What? Walks are a secret? And he's also given up a home run and a couple of smash hits (and two runs). All in all, walks would have been better, don't you think? Guys are making SERIOUS contact, here. And for the record, Carl Everett may not believe in dinosaurs, but he sort of runs like one.
"In fact, Yazstremski was one of the best hitters I ever saw in baseball." Don't mean to keep picking on you, Lou, but did you really need to add "in baseball"? We probably would have figured it out.
Gonna not press my luck here and start a part II.
P.S. I'm so happy the Yankees lost. Ha ha. Don't tell anyone. Also, just a thought: if Bernie Williams had been playing centerfield, he probably wouldn't have been fast enough to get to right and collide with Gary Sheffield, and Sheff might have caught that ball, and the Yankees might have won. Again, ha ha.
Feeling the White Sox's sleeveless pinstriped jerseys (with black shirts underneath). Also, I absolutely love the black Sox hat (does Dr. Dre get royalties?), but I absolutely hate the fact that it made damn near every other team adopt a black alternate uniform. Black Mets hats? Ugh. That said, given the popularity of black hats, is anyone out there rocking umpirehats? That would be gangsta.
Scooter the animated baseball sucks.
Why do all the Angels's helmets look like they spent too much time in a Betty Crocker E-Z Bake Oven? Stupid pine tar.
Baseball announcers have WAY too much time between pitches and hitters and the like to pontificate on anything and everything. An alternate audio track that just contained the real sounds of the stadium would be quite welcome. And why the heck are there three people in the booth anyway? How much analysis do we really need?
Fox Sports graphics are unspeakably awful. The sound effects are even worse. What ever happened to less is more?
Vladimir Guerrero's hair is rad, but I still don't believe he shattered the moon. And A-Rod shouldn't be allowed to be seen hitting in the post-season, even in commercials.
Paul Byrd looks a lot like Beecher from Oz when he was at his most ragged.
Not sure which is creepier, the Burger King or those heart-attack inducing breakfast sandwiches he's pushing. Mmmm, a thousand-calorie breakfast sandwich with almost all of it coming from pork fat. Where do I sign up?
The opposition is 28 for 30 in stolen bases against Jose Contreras? How is that even possible? Does he have a habit of catching the ball on its way back up the middle or something?
Chone Figgins is possibly the best name in professional sports. Top 10 for sure. The fact that he can basically play any position is a bonus.
Have I mentioned how bad the sound effects are? I know it would put someone out of work to lose them, but it would also make the telecast a lot more enjoyable. It's a baseball game, not Top Gun.
Correction: Paul Byrd looks like Beecher after he spent a month in solitary. No-hitter through 2, though. Woo-hoo!!
Running into the second baseman/shortstop to break up a double-play must be the most fun thing to do in baseball.
Garrett Anderson has a clean helmet? What's wrong with him?
I'd like to petition that the Knicks be herefore known as the Manhattan Knicks of New York.
Pete Coors is a creepy bastard. Also, how can a beer taste "cold"? Is that what he said?
Love when the stupid montage of jittery clips makes them miss the first pitch of an inning.
"Paul Byrd is like a crafty lefthander who's just right handed." Excuse me? What the hell does that mean? Actually, it means that his next pitch gets rocked out of the park by some mulleted White Sock. Maybe he SHOULD try throwing with his left. P.S. So much for the no-hitter.
Ever since that inane statement, Byrd is getting killed. Home run, hard drive straight to Anderson, base hit up the middle.
Wait, Tim Raines is the Sox first base coach? Awesome. Byrd gives up another rip. Jermaine Dye coming up. He might not last the inning at this rate. Too bad Bartolo Colon is already out for the series with strained fat.
OK, he lasted the inning. And thank God it's over, because the platitudes were getting dangerous.
Commercials during sporting events are so predictable it's nauseating. Not a male between 18 and 35? Sorry! By the end of this game I'll be praying for a tampon commercial. And I won't get it.
Apparently Lou Piniella is in charge of obviousness tonight. "When I look for catchers, I look for ones that win baseball games." Good theory, Lou. When I look for apples, I look for ones that aren't rotten and full of worms. We should hang out.
Coors, Applebees, State Farm, Land Rover, Midas, Citibank, "Prison Break." Put 'em all together and what do you got? A suburb I don't want to live in!
Someone really needs to point out that, hectic travel schedule or not, apparently Paul Byrd hasn't slept since October of '95.
Interviewing managers in mid-game is really, really stupid. The next time one says something insightful will be the first. And they cut away from the actual game to show this stuff?
Now batting, Carl Everett, who still doesn't believe in dinosaurs. And Tim McCarver just called the White Sox—the only team in the majors that ever wore SHORTS as part of their uniform—staid. Why, because they're white?
The Angels dugout jackets are really nice. Surprised they haven't mentioned where to get them yet.
"One of the secrets for Paul Byrd today is that he hasn't given up a walk yet"? What? Walks are a secret? And he's also given up a home run and a couple of smash hits (and two runs). All in all, walks would have been better, don't you think? Guys are making SERIOUS contact, here. And for the record, Carl Everett may not believe in dinosaurs, but he sort of runs like one.
"In fact, Yazstremski was one of the best hitters I ever saw in baseball." Don't mean to keep picking on you, Lou, but did you really need to add "in baseball"? We probably would have figured it out.
Gonna not press my luck here and start a part II.
Monday, October 10, 2005
It's Been A Long Time...
Wow, what'd I miss?
Three weeks this time? Has it been that long? (I didn't look at the previous post, but I think it was the Katrina one.) Sorry y'all. Um, assuming anyone's still checking this.
Just a few things right now off the top of my head.
Eddy Curry to the Knicks: Interesting. Plenty of upside in a 22-year-old legit seven-footer who actually wants to play like a center. Only thing is, didn't the Knicks already throw a lot of money at ANOTHER legit seven-footer (Jerome James) who plays like a center? Now they've got a matched pair of underachievers, both about to START long-term lucrative deals. I don't think I'd be looking for career years from either of them in '05-06.
Getting rid of Tim Thomas was long overdue, as he might be—per dollar, at least—the worst player in the League. But then again, he was coming off the books this year. And while Michael Sweetney was built like the Sta-Puf Marshmallow Man, he had an uncanny knack for coming up with offensive rebounds, getting fouled, and making the free throws. And he was CHEAP, seeing that he was on the rookie scale for a while longer. Who knows, maybe Curry and Crawford will work out like the ex-Warriors in Washington, but somehow I doubt it. I just wholeheartedly hope that Eddy's heart problems are behind him.
The MLB playoffs: Not to sound like my man Phil Mushnick, but did a playoff game REALLY start at 11 p.m. Eastern? Really? Luckiy it wasn't the one that lasted 18 innings, or else it would have cut into Good Morning America. Also cool that the first round was almost exclusively on cable. Sorry, Red Sox fans. (Yes, most people have ESPN, but some of us wish we didn't.)
Interesting to see what happens tonight, because a White Sox/Angels ALCS oughta be about as good for the ratings as a Cardinals/Astros NLCS. It's all good to focus on promoting the big-market teams (or the ones with neat stories) until none of them make the playoffs. Hard to start hyping Angels/Astros now, huh? "Um, yeah, Lance Berkman! Vladimir Guerrero!" Riiight. At this point they have to be praying for the Yankees to survive and go on and face the 'Stros so Roger Clemens can bean Derek Jeter or A-Rod (oh please let that happen).
The NFL: Dude, it's week five and the summer weather just stopped like last week. I'm not ready for football yet. All I really know is a rookie named Cadillac was leading the League in rushing and the Jets dug up Vinnie Testaverde to QB for them again. What, did Joe Namath fail his Breathalyzer?
Gas prices: Look, I thought I understood how high $3 a gallon was. I haven't owned a car in almost 10 years now, but I've done my share of driving rentals on road trips. Filled a Ford Excursion in Portland, pushed Mitsubishi Eclipse drops in L.A. Definitely paid $2-plus per gallon, and lived to tell the tale. Well, last week I had to run out to Jersey for a story, and I rented a car (seeing that it would be cheaper than taking car services both ways). Well, I got to the Dollar on 22nd Street around 10 a.m. to find they only had minivans. Great. Going to suburbia (well, sort of) in a Chrysler Town & Country. All was well until I got back and stopped off to fill it up. Damned if that thing wasn't actually sucking on the nozzle. Ended up putting $18 of regular in it—I took it a little low, never again. I don't understand why anyone would drive in the city (or any other one, for that matter) and I also have NO idea how taxi drivers are making a living, seeing that they haven't raised their rates yet.
Sneakers: Weirdness. Ever since I lost the full-time SLAM gig, I've been out of the sneaker loop. Not getting stuff for free anymore—thank god, because I'm sort of overrun here—and, in fact, I've been trying to clear out space. Until recently. Artist collabs have been popular for a while, but lately three dropped that I HAD to have. First, Nike SB dropped two different pairs of Dunk SB Highs for the Melvins. Now this was just plain weird. The Melvins are in no way a popular band—in fact, their brand of noise/punk/whatever is just about as anti-mainstream as possible. I can barely even think of an equivalent, maybe SLAM doing a special issue on Ben Handlogten. The black pair, covered in art swiped from antiquated tombstones, didn't do much for me. But the white pair—canvas, with what looked like blood bubbling up from the soles—was impossible to leave. Not sure if they'll see the light of day until spring, but once they do, they'll be worn to death.
The other pairs are Vans—Bad Religion Sk8 Highs and Motörhead Rowleys. The Rowleys have pretty much been on my feet since I bought them, and the Sk8 Highs will also get plenty of burn this fall/winter. Guess that means further purging of the pairs here. Shameless plug, if you're in NYC, check out Flight Club, on Greene Street between 8th and Waverly. They're a consignment shop (with some stock from yours truly) that has the best selection of shoes in NYC. Sizes and prices vary, but you can always find gems.
Music: I kinda want to get the Biggie/Frank Sinatra blend CD from Fat Beats, is that bad? I stopped in Virgin this weekend, which is always a mistake, because I can never leave without buying a bunch of stuff. Picked up MF Doom live, the new Fiona Apple, the new Blackalicious, a previously unreleased Coltrane/Monk set, and a disc of Melvins demos (which I'm kind of scared of). Now today I read about another new Coltrane release (on Impulse!). Guess I'm gonna need to go back. Dammit.
Three weeks this time? Has it been that long? (I didn't look at the previous post, but I think it was the Katrina one.) Sorry y'all. Um, assuming anyone's still checking this.
Just a few things right now off the top of my head.
Eddy Curry to the Knicks: Interesting. Plenty of upside in a 22-year-old legit seven-footer who actually wants to play like a center. Only thing is, didn't the Knicks already throw a lot of money at ANOTHER legit seven-footer (Jerome James) who plays like a center? Now they've got a matched pair of underachievers, both about to START long-term lucrative deals. I don't think I'd be looking for career years from either of them in '05-06.
Getting rid of Tim Thomas was long overdue, as he might be—per dollar, at least—the worst player in the League. But then again, he was coming off the books this year. And while Michael Sweetney was built like the Sta-Puf Marshmallow Man, he had an uncanny knack for coming up with offensive rebounds, getting fouled, and making the free throws. And he was CHEAP, seeing that he was on the rookie scale for a while longer. Who knows, maybe Curry and Crawford will work out like the ex-Warriors in Washington, but somehow I doubt it. I just wholeheartedly hope that Eddy's heart problems are behind him.
The MLB playoffs: Not to sound like my man Phil Mushnick, but did a playoff game REALLY start at 11 p.m. Eastern? Really? Luckiy it wasn't the one that lasted 18 innings, or else it would have cut into Good Morning America. Also cool that the first round was almost exclusively on cable. Sorry, Red Sox fans. (Yes, most people have ESPN, but some of us wish we didn't.)
Interesting to see what happens tonight, because a White Sox/Angels ALCS oughta be about as good for the ratings as a Cardinals/Astros NLCS. It's all good to focus on promoting the big-market teams (or the ones with neat stories) until none of them make the playoffs. Hard to start hyping Angels/Astros now, huh? "Um, yeah, Lance Berkman! Vladimir Guerrero!" Riiight. At this point they have to be praying for the Yankees to survive and go on and face the 'Stros so Roger Clemens can bean Derek Jeter or A-Rod (oh please let that happen).
The NFL: Dude, it's week five and the summer weather just stopped like last week. I'm not ready for football yet. All I really know is a rookie named Cadillac was leading the League in rushing and the Jets dug up Vinnie Testaverde to QB for them again. What, did Joe Namath fail his Breathalyzer?
Gas prices: Look, I thought I understood how high $3 a gallon was. I haven't owned a car in almost 10 years now, but I've done my share of driving rentals on road trips. Filled a Ford Excursion in Portland, pushed Mitsubishi Eclipse drops in L.A. Definitely paid $2-plus per gallon, and lived to tell the tale. Well, last week I had to run out to Jersey for a story, and I rented a car (seeing that it would be cheaper than taking car services both ways). Well, I got to the Dollar on 22nd Street around 10 a.m. to find they only had minivans. Great. Going to suburbia (well, sort of) in a Chrysler Town & Country. All was well until I got back and stopped off to fill it up. Damned if that thing wasn't actually sucking on the nozzle. Ended up putting $18 of regular in it—I took it a little low, never again. I don't understand why anyone would drive in the city (or any other one, for that matter) and I also have NO idea how taxi drivers are making a living, seeing that they haven't raised their rates yet.
Sneakers: Weirdness. Ever since I lost the full-time SLAM gig, I've been out of the sneaker loop. Not getting stuff for free anymore—thank god, because I'm sort of overrun here—and, in fact, I've been trying to clear out space. Until recently. Artist collabs have been popular for a while, but lately three dropped that I HAD to have. First, Nike SB dropped two different pairs of Dunk SB Highs for the Melvins. Now this was just plain weird. The Melvins are in no way a popular band—in fact, their brand of noise/punk/whatever is just about as anti-mainstream as possible. I can barely even think of an equivalent, maybe SLAM doing a special issue on Ben Handlogten. The black pair, covered in art swiped from antiquated tombstones, didn't do much for me. But the white pair—canvas, with what looked like blood bubbling up from the soles—was impossible to leave. Not sure if they'll see the light of day until spring, but once they do, they'll be worn to death.
The other pairs are Vans—Bad Religion Sk8 Highs and Motörhead Rowleys. The Rowleys have pretty much been on my feet since I bought them, and the Sk8 Highs will also get plenty of burn this fall/winter. Guess that means further purging of the pairs here. Shameless plug, if you're in NYC, check out Flight Club, on Greene Street between 8th and Waverly. They're a consignment shop (with some stock from yours truly) that has the best selection of shoes in NYC. Sizes and prices vary, but you can always find gems.
Music: I kinda want to get the Biggie/Frank Sinatra blend CD from Fat Beats, is that bad? I stopped in Virgin this weekend, which is always a mistake, because I can never leave without buying a bunch of stuff. Picked up MF Doom live, the new Fiona Apple, the new Blackalicious, a previously unreleased Coltrane/Monk set, and a disc of Melvins demos (which I'm kind of scared of). Now today I read about another new Coltrane release (on Impulse!). Guess I'm gonna need to go back. Dammit.
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
It's The End Of The World As I Know It...
...and I don't feel fine. Not in the least.
I know, I know. Late again. The idea of daily updates SEEMS so easy, and then a week flies by. Or um, two. My bad. And much as I'd love to talk about the signings of Michael Finley and Nick Van Exel by the defending champs (a move which may not be as amazingly good as everyone thinks), that'll have to wait. For now, I'd like to talk about New Orleans.
Yes, I'm late. What else is new? But I've seen the images on TV, in the newspaper and online. I've read the stories, heard Kanye West (I think if he'd replaced "black" with "poor," he would have been dead-on), and it's been nothing short of horrifying.
I was only in New Orleans once, down a year or three back to do a piece on Baron Davis. It was the first season the Hornets were in the Big Easy, sometime in April, the weather was pleasant and the streets were quiet. It was a short trip, but I tried to get in a little bit of everything—Bourbon Street, a shrimp po' boy, gumbo in a dark, old tavern. But there were still dark sides. I remember going into a bar on Bourbon one afternoon, and asking the bartender if I needed to go all the way back down Bourbon and over to get back to my hotel, rather than just cutting straight across and back. "No," she said, "unless you want to get shot." Massive projects, aboveground cemeteries, shaky business districts. Even back then, New Orleans was a city tottering on the edge of some great apocalypse.
But surely some of that is 20/20 hindsight. I saw a great show there—Coheed & Cambria opening for Hot Water Music. HWM was (and is) one of my favorite bands, and their show in NYC had sold out before I got around to trying to get tickets. There, the show happened to be on my free night, and I just stood in line the night of the show to get tickets. I wound up hanging out with some college-age kids I'd never met before, drinking cheap beer and having a great time. I also went into a massive sporting goods store that time forgot—I forget the name now—picking up some Air Jordan stuff from years back. It was a dangerous town in a lot of ways, but it was also at times quaint, spooky and delghtful.
And now it's gone. Possibly not forever, but for months at least, New Orleans will be a town of ghosts and looters, water and death. As survivors still straggle out and projected death tolls increase exponentially, it becomes increasingly amazing that such an event could happen in America.
Because this wasn't a terrorist attack, or some fluke geological incident, or a rogue meteorite. This was a HURRICANE, something people with little to no formal weather training had seen coming for days. This was a flood that respected scientists had warned against for over a decade. This was something that could have been prevented, or at least had its impact severely lessened, but wasn't.
Homeland security? Where? While millions are spent checking airline baggage (and frisking three-year-olds) and inspecting bags in subway stations, no one prepares properly for a hurricane? While billions are funneled to a war in Iraq that may never be won, funds are stripped away from a centuries-old city that lies below sea level and in the path of hurricanes? And our President, who should be setting an example, takes untold vacation days, cycling with Lance Armstrong and cutting brush while soldiers continue to die in the Middle East and the Gulf Coast endures third-world conditions.
And the gap between the haves and the have-nots grows bigger. People who could leave, did, and the people who couldn't were left behind. What happened to "no children left behind"? I realize it's just a slogan for schools, but aren't human lives far more important than any education program? Shouldn't buses have been sent to New Orleans the SECOND they decided to evacuate so everyone would have an equal chance to get out, no matter how rich or poor? It's hard to be pro-American at a time like this—especially after seeing what happened at the Superdome and the Convention Center. How many ways can the system fail?
What scares me the most, as a resident of New York City, is the incredible incompetence when it came to the evacuations and rescue effort. This was an event that was forewarned. This was an area that was declared a disaster area BEFORE the hurricane hit. And there will still be 10,000 dead, countless more injured and scarred. What will happen if a major terrorist strike DOES happen in New York, or some other city? What if there is no warning? Will the reaction be any better? Any more organized? That's what truly haunts me. What, exactly, have FEMA and the Department Of Homeland Security done?
I know, I know. Late again. The idea of daily updates SEEMS so easy, and then a week flies by. Or um, two. My bad. And much as I'd love to talk about the signings of Michael Finley and Nick Van Exel by the defending champs (a move which may not be as amazingly good as everyone thinks), that'll have to wait. For now, I'd like to talk about New Orleans.
Yes, I'm late. What else is new? But I've seen the images on TV, in the newspaper and online. I've read the stories, heard Kanye West (I think if he'd replaced "black" with "poor," he would have been dead-on), and it's been nothing short of horrifying.
I was only in New Orleans once, down a year or three back to do a piece on Baron Davis. It was the first season the Hornets were in the Big Easy, sometime in April, the weather was pleasant and the streets were quiet. It was a short trip, but I tried to get in a little bit of everything—Bourbon Street, a shrimp po' boy, gumbo in a dark, old tavern. But there were still dark sides. I remember going into a bar on Bourbon one afternoon, and asking the bartender if I needed to go all the way back down Bourbon and over to get back to my hotel, rather than just cutting straight across and back. "No," she said, "unless you want to get shot." Massive projects, aboveground cemeteries, shaky business districts. Even back then, New Orleans was a city tottering on the edge of some great apocalypse.
But surely some of that is 20/20 hindsight. I saw a great show there—Coheed & Cambria opening for Hot Water Music. HWM was (and is) one of my favorite bands, and their show in NYC had sold out before I got around to trying to get tickets. There, the show happened to be on my free night, and I just stood in line the night of the show to get tickets. I wound up hanging out with some college-age kids I'd never met before, drinking cheap beer and having a great time. I also went into a massive sporting goods store that time forgot—I forget the name now—picking up some Air Jordan stuff from years back. It was a dangerous town in a lot of ways, but it was also at times quaint, spooky and delghtful.
And now it's gone. Possibly not forever, but for months at least, New Orleans will be a town of ghosts and looters, water and death. As survivors still straggle out and projected death tolls increase exponentially, it becomes increasingly amazing that such an event could happen in America.
Because this wasn't a terrorist attack, or some fluke geological incident, or a rogue meteorite. This was a HURRICANE, something people with little to no formal weather training had seen coming for days. This was a flood that respected scientists had warned against for over a decade. This was something that could have been prevented, or at least had its impact severely lessened, but wasn't.
Homeland security? Where? While millions are spent checking airline baggage (and frisking three-year-olds) and inspecting bags in subway stations, no one prepares properly for a hurricane? While billions are funneled to a war in Iraq that may never be won, funds are stripped away from a centuries-old city that lies below sea level and in the path of hurricanes? And our President, who should be setting an example, takes untold vacation days, cycling with Lance Armstrong and cutting brush while soldiers continue to die in the Middle East and the Gulf Coast endures third-world conditions.
And the gap between the haves and the have-nots grows bigger. People who could leave, did, and the people who couldn't were left behind. What happened to "no children left behind"? I realize it's just a slogan for schools, but aren't human lives far more important than any education program? Shouldn't buses have been sent to New Orleans the SECOND they decided to evacuate so everyone would have an equal chance to get out, no matter how rich or poor? It's hard to be pro-American at a time like this—especially after seeing what happened at the Superdome and the Convention Center. How many ways can the system fail?
What scares me the most, as a resident of New York City, is the incredible incompetence when it came to the evacuations and rescue effort. This was an event that was forewarned. This was an area that was declared a disaster area BEFORE the hurricane hit. And there will still be 10,000 dead, countless more injured and scarred. What will happen if a major terrorist strike DOES happen in New York, or some other city? What if there is no warning? Will the reaction be any better? Any more organized? That's what truly haunts me. What, exactly, have FEMA and the Department Of Homeland Security done?
Monday, August 15, 2005
Oops.
Been over a week now—my bad. It's been a fairly busy time, I guess. Went to visit my sister in Oklahoma last weekend, just for a couple days. Her husband's a music professor, and he'll be starting teaching at U of O this year. Not a bad little town, Norman, although I'd imagine that it gets nuts once school (and especially football) starts.
Actually, what I've managed to do lately is watch a bunch of movies I'd missed earlier, which helped me rediscover the notion that Hollywood should be wiped from the face of the earth. Ironically, this is exactly what happens in "The Day After Tomorrow," one of said movies. I believe Rasheed Wallace would refer to this movie as CTC—especially for an indie guy like Jake Gyllenhall clocking big-studio dollars. Like earlier crap such as "Independence Day," it's a horrifically bad story wrapped in bang-zoom special effects. I can imagine the meetings. "Hey, this dialogue is really bad." "Yeah, but who cares? We blow apart the Hollywood sign and float a freighter up Fifth Avenue? Isn't that cool?" "Yeah, but look. Dennis Quaid's character. Is he even still with his wife? Should we even care?" "Did I mention that we freeze the Statue Of Liberty and have a dickhead Vice President who looks totally like Dick Cheney?" "Oh, fine, who cares. It's just a summer movie anyway. The Statue of Liberty, huh?"
However, "The Day After Tomorrow" looks like an all-time classic next to the complete load of celluloid (do they even use that stuff anymore?) trash that was "I, Robot." Don't get me wrong—I like Will Smith. Thought he was great in "Six Degrees of Separation," and "Men In Black" (and the inevitable sequel) remain staples of my late-night In Demand diet. And I love Isaac Asimov. While I've only read a fraction of his monstrous output, among the books of his I HAVE read are "I, Robot" and the rest of the trilogy. Another website summed up the film with a doctored photo of Will Smith pissing on Sir Isaac's grave. That right there saves me a thousand words.
There was some other dreck mixed in there as well, that my mind seems to be blocking. (I watched "Bruce Almighty" this morning, and that was—pardon the phrase—godawful, too.) The one good movie I watched wasn't from Hollywood, of course. It was "Shaun Of The Dead," the British zombie semi-spoof (I say "semi" because a couple likeable characters get offed). Hollywood's insistence on product placement and happy endings and super-high-tech special effects almost assures bad movies. And the more they spend, the worse they are. (I didn't bother seeing "Batman Begins"—despite hearing it was good, "Star Wars" or "The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy"—because I absolutely loved the books and I'm terrified to see what they did to it. I'll buy the DVD.)
The next couple I plan on watching are DVDs I picked up in Oklahoma—the Criterion Collection version of "A Life Aquatic," and the unrated version of "Team America: World Police." Meant to see both of 'em in the theater, but never got around to it. I always do that.
***
Today was the day that teams in the NBA could use the "amnesty clause," where they could waive one player to save their salary against the luxury tax. How it works is this: the original team cuts the player, but is still responsible for paying their salary. The player also still counts against that teams salary cap, but the team doesn't have to pay any additional luxury tax that kicks in when they exceed the cap. (It's a dollar-for-dollar tax, meaning if you're $10 million over the cap, you pay an additional $10 million in tax.) The player, freed from his former team, can then sign anywhere else—making a little extra on top of what they're already contractually owed. Not to mention a team can pick up a former All-Star like Michael Finley for a fraction of what his guaranteed contract is still paying him. And this is a League with labor issues?
Strangely enough, the so-called "Allan Houston Rule" didn't result in Allan Houston's being set free. Houston, still owed roughly $60 million by the Knicks, has been hurt for roughly three years straight and hasn't played a meaningful minute while under his max deal. Either the Knicks think he can get healthy enough to play for Larry Brown (ha ha, he couldn't get healthy enough to play for DON CHANEY), or that he'll take a medical retirement and come off the books soon enough anyway. There's only one team that would be dumb enough to trade for him, and unfortunately for him, he's already on it.
***
More later. My phone is out for the second time in a week, and Verizon has been spectacularly unhelpful. Might be time to switch up.
Actually, what I've managed to do lately is watch a bunch of movies I'd missed earlier, which helped me rediscover the notion that Hollywood should be wiped from the face of the earth. Ironically, this is exactly what happens in "The Day After Tomorrow," one of said movies. I believe Rasheed Wallace would refer to this movie as CTC—especially for an indie guy like Jake Gyllenhall clocking big-studio dollars. Like earlier crap such as "Independence Day," it's a horrifically bad story wrapped in bang-zoom special effects. I can imagine the meetings. "Hey, this dialogue is really bad." "Yeah, but who cares? We blow apart the Hollywood sign and float a freighter up Fifth Avenue? Isn't that cool?" "Yeah, but look. Dennis Quaid's character. Is he even still with his wife? Should we even care?" "Did I mention that we freeze the Statue Of Liberty and have a dickhead Vice President who looks totally like Dick Cheney?" "Oh, fine, who cares. It's just a summer movie anyway. The Statue of Liberty, huh?"
However, "The Day After Tomorrow" looks like an all-time classic next to the complete load of celluloid (do they even use that stuff anymore?) trash that was "I, Robot." Don't get me wrong—I like Will Smith. Thought he was great in "Six Degrees of Separation," and "Men In Black" (and the inevitable sequel) remain staples of my late-night In Demand diet. And I love Isaac Asimov. While I've only read a fraction of his monstrous output, among the books of his I HAVE read are "I, Robot" and the rest of the trilogy. Another website summed up the film with a doctored photo of Will Smith pissing on Sir Isaac's grave. That right there saves me a thousand words.
There was some other dreck mixed in there as well, that my mind seems to be blocking. (I watched "Bruce Almighty" this morning, and that was—pardon the phrase—godawful, too.) The one good movie I watched wasn't from Hollywood, of course. It was "Shaun Of The Dead," the British zombie semi-spoof (I say "semi" because a couple likeable characters get offed). Hollywood's insistence on product placement and happy endings and super-high-tech special effects almost assures bad movies. And the more they spend, the worse they are. (I didn't bother seeing "Batman Begins"—despite hearing it was good, "Star Wars" or "The Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy"—because I absolutely loved the books and I'm terrified to see what they did to it. I'll buy the DVD.)
The next couple I plan on watching are DVDs I picked up in Oklahoma—the Criterion Collection version of "A Life Aquatic," and the unrated version of "Team America: World Police." Meant to see both of 'em in the theater, but never got around to it. I always do that.
***
Today was the day that teams in the NBA could use the "amnesty clause," where they could waive one player to save their salary against the luxury tax. How it works is this: the original team cuts the player, but is still responsible for paying their salary. The player also still counts against that teams salary cap, but the team doesn't have to pay any additional luxury tax that kicks in when they exceed the cap. (It's a dollar-for-dollar tax, meaning if you're $10 million over the cap, you pay an additional $10 million in tax.) The player, freed from his former team, can then sign anywhere else—making a little extra on top of what they're already contractually owed. Not to mention a team can pick up a former All-Star like Michael Finley for a fraction of what his guaranteed contract is still paying him. And this is a League with labor issues?
Strangely enough, the so-called "Allan Houston Rule" didn't result in Allan Houston's being set free. Houston, still owed roughly $60 million by the Knicks, has been hurt for roughly three years straight and hasn't played a meaningful minute while under his max deal. Either the Knicks think he can get healthy enough to play for Larry Brown (ha ha, he couldn't get healthy enough to play for DON CHANEY), or that he'll take a medical retirement and come off the books soon enough anyway. There's only one team that would be dumb enough to trade for him, and unfortunately for him, he's already on it.
***
More later. My phone is out for the second time in a week, and Verizon has been spectacularly unhelpful. Might be time to switch up.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Adeebok
Well, assuming you've followed the news today, you'll most likely have seen that adidas acquired Reebok for a heck of a lot of billion dollars. And assuming you had as much foreknowledge of the deal as I did, you probably had the same reaction. Mainly, what the F—??? It's crazy—like Ford buying GM, or the NBA buying the NFL.
I get it, I guess. By joining forces, they have a better shot of unseating Nike, what with adidas's dominance in Europe and Reebok's, um, hip-hop connections over here (which they've gotten by spending large amounts of money on what Nike's long gotten for free, but I digress). I expect it to work out much like Nike and Converse, with both brands maintaining separate identities, and it basically not mattering on a day-to-day basis. At least for now—because I can't imagine adidas spending that kind of loot just to let Reebok do what they've been doing. Consolidation will have to happen at some point—and whether that means Yao and AI switch to three stripes, I don't know.
That is, at least until Nike buys the whole mess tomorrow.
I get it, I guess. By joining forces, they have a better shot of unseating Nike, what with adidas's dominance in Europe and Reebok's, um, hip-hop connections over here (which they've gotten by spending large amounts of money on what Nike's long gotten for free, but I digress). I expect it to work out much like Nike and Converse, with both brands maintaining separate identities, and it basically not mattering on a day-to-day basis. At least for now—because I can't imagine adidas spending that kind of loot just to let Reebok do what they've been doing. Consolidation will have to happen at some point—and whether that means Yao and AI switch to three stripes, I don't know.
That is, at least until Nike buys the whole mess tomorrow.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
High Society
Saw "The Aristocrats" last night. Funny? Yes. Obscene? Most definitely. Worth seeing? By all means, yes. Gilbert Gottfried alone was worth the price of admission (despite the fact that said price is now $10.75). Yet it still raised some questions.
1) The fact that the movie was advertised and promoted as "the most obscene movie ever," or something like that, made sure that anyone seeing it would be disappointed by the actual level of obscenity. OK, sure, there were probably some little kids or nuns or something who were shocked and horrified by the liberal use of profanity and sexual imagery, but I wasn't. When it's said that a movie is going to break all boundaries of common decency (and it's still questionable whether it was more offensive than the "South Park" movie), you can't help but going into with outsized expectations. You're being set up for a fall—you're inevitably going to be, if not disappointed, at least underwhelmed. I mean, I love George Carlin as much as the next guy, but his whole act just isn't nearly as shocking as it was when he started it back 30 years ago. It takes a lot more than incest and bestiality to shock a 21st century audience. Although, to the movie's credit, they sure tried.
2) A couple of notes on the previews: I can't WAIT for Sarah Silverman's movie. Oughta make "The Aristocrats" look like "The Aristocats." And whoever greenlighted the upcoming movie with Samuel L. Jackson and Eugene Levy should be shot. Immediately.
3) The comedians in "The Aristocrats" were great. The aformentioned Gottfried, Carlin and Silverman, Bob Saget, Paul Reiser, Andy Richter, Andy Dick, Chris Rock, Steven Wright, Whoopi Goldberg. But you couldn't help but wonder about the guys who didn't appear. Did Penn Jillette not ask them? Or did they decline? I'm talking about guys like Jerry Seinfeld, Dave Chapelle, Denis Leary, Larry David, David Letterman, Bobcat Goldthwait, Chevy Chase, Bill Murray, Bill Cosby (although somehow I think he would have passed), John Cleese. And it's a goddamn shame that Sam Kinison, Mitch Hedberg, Milton Berle and especially Rodney Dangerfield didn't live long enough to participate. (Then again, why didn't someone break out a Ouija board? Whoopi was in "Ghost," she should know the deal.)
4) The joke itself kind of sucks. Sure, you can stretch it out and make it absurdly disgusting, but when you already know the payoff, what's so damn funny? It's comedic masturbation. And it's the delivery more than the content that makes it occasionally great. (If you see it, note the difference between Gottfried and Saget.) Obscenity is so passé now anyway—thanks to things like "South Park."
5) Just see it. You could probably use a laugh.
1) The fact that the movie was advertised and promoted as "the most obscene movie ever," or something like that, made sure that anyone seeing it would be disappointed by the actual level of obscenity. OK, sure, there were probably some little kids or nuns or something who were shocked and horrified by the liberal use of profanity and sexual imagery, but I wasn't. When it's said that a movie is going to break all boundaries of common decency (and it's still questionable whether it was more offensive than the "South Park" movie), you can't help but going into with outsized expectations. You're being set up for a fall—you're inevitably going to be, if not disappointed, at least underwhelmed. I mean, I love George Carlin as much as the next guy, but his whole act just isn't nearly as shocking as it was when he started it back 30 years ago. It takes a lot more than incest and bestiality to shock a 21st century audience. Although, to the movie's credit, they sure tried.
2) A couple of notes on the previews: I can't WAIT for Sarah Silverman's movie. Oughta make "The Aristocrats" look like "The Aristocats." And whoever greenlighted the upcoming movie with Samuel L. Jackson and Eugene Levy should be shot. Immediately.
3) The comedians in "The Aristocrats" were great. The aformentioned Gottfried, Carlin and Silverman, Bob Saget, Paul Reiser, Andy Richter, Andy Dick, Chris Rock, Steven Wright, Whoopi Goldberg. But you couldn't help but wonder about the guys who didn't appear. Did Penn Jillette not ask them? Or did they decline? I'm talking about guys like Jerry Seinfeld, Dave Chapelle, Denis Leary, Larry David, David Letterman, Bobcat Goldthwait, Chevy Chase, Bill Murray, Bill Cosby (although somehow I think he would have passed), John Cleese. And it's a goddamn shame that Sam Kinison, Mitch Hedberg, Milton Berle and especially Rodney Dangerfield didn't live long enough to participate. (Then again, why didn't someone break out a Ouija board? Whoopi was in "Ghost," she should know the deal.)
4) The joke itself kind of sucks. Sure, you can stretch it out and make it absurdly disgusting, but when you already know the payoff, what's so damn funny? It's comedic masturbation. And it's the delivery more than the content that makes it occasionally great. (If you see it, note the difference between Gottfried and Saget.) Obscenity is so passé now anyway—thanks to things like "South Park."
5) Just see it. You could probably use a laugh.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Big City Nights
So, as some of you may know, I'm just another single guy living in the city. I support myself, chew with my mouth closed, take the occasional shower—in other words, I'm a great catch waiting to happen. Which is why, the last two nights, I read the entire new Harry Potter book and went to a soccer game.
Now I'll admit, part of the reason I stayed in (for the most part) is that I'm still fighting off this stupid cold (brought on, I presume, by the combination of chilly AC and the ridiculously hot and humid weather we've been enduring lately). But another part is, I admit, that I really wanted to read the latest Potter installment.
And I know—I'm 34 years old, I should be over this stuff. It took me a while to start, actually. My sister brought me back the first three books after a trip to London a few years ago, and for a good year afterwards they just sat on a shelf collecting dust. I'm not sure what caused me to open the first volume, but once I did, that was that. And of course, having the originals of the first three books, I needed the British versions of the following volumes as well. I bought the fourth on eBay, before realizing I could simply order each new one as it came out from Amazon.co.uk.
I'll skip spoilers and simply state that the latest book (6 of 7) is everything I've grown to expect from J.K. Rowling. Her books may be primarily aimed at children, but I'd venture to say that anyone who enjoys a good tale would get a kick out of the Potter series. Well, if there's still anybody out there who's not reading along. I felt intense disappointment at the end of volume 6—not because the ending was bad, but because the ending arrived. It'll be a long wait for No. 7.
As for the soccer game, that was MetroStars (no more NY/NJ, as per their instructions) vs. FC Dallas (FC stands for Football Club, and is a European affectation adopted by the MLS) on a potentially stormy Wednesday night. It rained as I approached the Port Authority bus terminal for the ride to the Meadowlands, but cleared rapidly before kickoff. In fact, the temperature, which hit triple digits earlier in the day at JFK, had dropped below 80 by gametime.
Still, the potential for horrific weather must have changed a lot of minds. Giants Stadium hardly ever looks terribly full for a soccer match (especially when it's strictly MLS), but this was particularly bad. Listed attendance was 7,000-something, but the actual crowd had to be less than half that. The final was 3-2, MetroStars, with the heralded "King of Goals" adding one to the winning effort.
Anyway, more later. I'm just happy it's 80-something degrees out.
Now I'll admit, part of the reason I stayed in (for the most part) is that I'm still fighting off this stupid cold (brought on, I presume, by the combination of chilly AC and the ridiculously hot and humid weather we've been enduring lately). But another part is, I admit, that I really wanted to read the latest Potter installment.
And I know—I'm 34 years old, I should be over this stuff. It took me a while to start, actually. My sister brought me back the first three books after a trip to London a few years ago, and for a good year afterwards they just sat on a shelf collecting dust. I'm not sure what caused me to open the first volume, but once I did, that was that. And of course, having the originals of the first three books, I needed the British versions of the following volumes as well. I bought the fourth on eBay, before realizing I could simply order each new one as it came out from Amazon.co.uk.
I'll skip spoilers and simply state that the latest book (6 of 7) is everything I've grown to expect from J.K. Rowling. Her books may be primarily aimed at children, but I'd venture to say that anyone who enjoys a good tale would get a kick out of the Potter series. Well, if there's still anybody out there who's not reading along. I felt intense disappointment at the end of volume 6—not because the ending was bad, but because the ending arrived. It'll be a long wait for No. 7.
As for the soccer game, that was MetroStars (no more NY/NJ, as per their instructions) vs. FC Dallas (FC stands for Football Club, and is a European affectation adopted by the MLS) on a potentially stormy Wednesday night. It rained as I approached the Port Authority bus terminal for the ride to the Meadowlands, but cleared rapidly before kickoff. In fact, the temperature, which hit triple digits earlier in the day at JFK, had dropped below 80 by gametime.
Still, the potential for horrific weather must have changed a lot of minds. Giants Stadium hardly ever looks terribly full for a soccer match (especially when it's strictly MLS), but this was particularly bad. Listed attendance was 7,000-something, but the actual crowd had to be less than half that. The final was 3-2, MetroStars, with the heralded "King of Goals" adding one to the winning effort.
Anyway, more later. I'm just happy it's 80-something degrees out.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Day To Day
OK, so I missed a little time there. A few things happened--the Brooklyn Banks (the best BMX spot in the universe) re-opened after an 8-month shutdown, the Tour de France entered the interesting time, and I had a few things to kick out for KICKS. And yesterday I got hit with a head cold that makes it feel like my sinuses and nasal passages are filled with half-dried Elmer's Glue. How's that for imagery?
But hell, it's 95 degrees out and humid, so I might as well sit in the AC and put down some thoughts on a few things:
• The Tour de Lance: Hey, I'm American—I'm happy that Lance won his seventh. But whay did it all have to be so anticlimactic? For the last two weeks, any attacks came from guys who didn't have a chance in hell of winning, while main contenders Ivan Basso and Jan Ullrich couldn't do anything to make things interesting.
There were moments, of course—Armstrong teammate George Hincapie winning a stage (and the toughest one, at that), Robbie McEwen's leg-melting sprint stage wins, Mickael Rasmussen's tireless climbing (and Agony of Defeat signature time trial), Lance's blazing time trial second half, and Alexander Vinokourov's last stage win (and his sprint duel with Levi Leipheimer). But all in all, there wasn't much drama regarding the outcome. It seemed like a given that Armstrong was going to win from the first week, and, of course, he did.
Not that it takes anything away from the accomplishment. Over 2,000 miles in three weeks isn't just hard—it's insane—and to beat all comers SEVEN years in a row after overcoming a nasty case of cancer, well, that just isn't human. The only question now is whether Armstrong will stay retired. After all, he is only 34.
But even if he does, I'm already looking forward to next year's Tour. With the mechanical rabbit sidelined, the greyhounds should (hopefully) battle from the first day to the last. Ullrich has won before, Basso—long considered the future of cycling—is already 29 without a Tour win to show for it, and Vinokourov is still a beast at 31. Then there's 25-year-old Ukranian Yaroslav Popovych, who pushed the Discovery team along, and along with Hincapie, should be right there in '06. There will be no shortage of American riders to follow, either, with Leipheimer, Bobby Julich and David Zabriskie all turning in respectable performances.
• Larry Brown coaching the Knicks: Yikes. I suppose it's a way to sort of circumvent the salary cap and the luxury tax, but unless he can bring half the Pistons along, why bother? It's like hiring Dale Earnhardt to drive your lawnmower. The Knicks are NOT going to win an NBA Championship in the next three years—and Next Town Brown won't be staying any longer than that—so what exactly will he accomplish? Especially with Isiah having long been on the side of Stephon Marbury, who's absolutely NOT a Larry Brown point guard. (And boy, is he going to love Tim Thomas.)
Will Brown make the Knicks better? Of course. (And for $12 million a year, he'd damn well better.) But what will he make them into? Even the best chef in the world can't make the simplest dish when you're missing half of the ingredients. Their best defender is in Phoenix, they don't have a true point guard, and their free-agent signing is a center who's played well exclusively in his contract year. Oh yeah, and their tradeable assets are Penny Hardaway and Tim Thomas. Stay in the Hamptons, Larry!
• Roller skating: Went a couple weeks ago, to The Skate Key in the South Bronx. Hadn't been to a rink in several years, and all I have to say is, what a racket! I'm convinced nothing in there had changed since roughly 1975. The lights, the carpeting, the lockers, and especially the rental skates. It's quite possible the rental skates were used in the Civil War. When I exchanged my left skate because it insisted on turning right, I got another one that did exactly the same thing.
But the investment! I'm not sure how much the building cost (or whether it was rented or leased or what), but other than utilities and employees, there are essentially no expenses! Admission and skate rental was $10, and that's because we were part of a party. I need to invest in a roller rink.
But hell, it's 95 degrees out and humid, so I might as well sit in the AC and put down some thoughts on a few things:
• The Tour de Lance: Hey, I'm American—I'm happy that Lance won his seventh. But whay did it all have to be so anticlimactic? For the last two weeks, any attacks came from guys who didn't have a chance in hell of winning, while main contenders Ivan Basso and Jan Ullrich couldn't do anything to make things interesting.
There were moments, of course—Armstrong teammate George Hincapie winning a stage (and the toughest one, at that), Robbie McEwen's leg-melting sprint stage wins, Mickael Rasmussen's tireless climbing (and Agony of Defeat signature time trial), Lance's blazing time trial second half, and Alexander Vinokourov's last stage win (and his sprint duel with Levi Leipheimer). But all in all, there wasn't much drama regarding the outcome. It seemed like a given that Armstrong was going to win from the first week, and, of course, he did.
Not that it takes anything away from the accomplishment. Over 2,000 miles in three weeks isn't just hard—it's insane—and to beat all comers SEVEN years in a row after overcoming a nasty case of cancer, well, that just isn't human. The only question now is whether Armstrong will stay retired. After all, he is only 34.
But even if he does, I'm already looking forward to next year's Tour. With the mechanical rabbit sidelined, the greyhounds should (hopefully) battle from the first day to the last. Ullrich has won before, Basso—long considered the future of cycling—is already 29 without a Tour win to show for it, and Vinokourov is still a beast at 31. Then there's 25-year-old Ukranian Yaroslav Popovych, who pushed the Discovery team along, and along with Hincapie, should be right there in '06. There will be no shortage of American riders to follow, either, with Leipheimer, Bobby Julich and David Zabriskie all turning in respectable performances.
• Larry Brown coaching the Knicks: Yikes. I suppose it's a way to sort of circumvent the salary cap and the luxury tax, but unless he can bring half the Pistons along, why bother? It's like hiring Dale Earnhardt to drive your lawnmower. The Knicks are NOT going to win an NBA Championship in the next three years—and Next Town Brown won't be staying any longer than that—so what exactly will he accomplish? Especially with Isiah having long been on the side of Stephon Marbury, who's absolutely NOT a Larry Brown point guard. (And boy, is he going to love Tim Thomas.)
Will Brown make the Knicks better? Of course. (And for $12 million a year, he'd damn well better.) But what will he make them into? Even the best chef in the world can't make the simplest dish when you're missing half of the ingredients. Their best defender is in Phoenix, they don't have a true point guard, and their free-agent signing is a center who's played well exclusively in his contract year. Oh yeah, and their tradeable assets are Penny Hardaway and Tim Thomas. Stay in the Hamptons, Larry!
• Roller skating: Went a couple weeks ago, to The Skate Key in the South Bronx. Hadn't been to a rink in several years, and all I have to say is, what a racket! I'm convinced nothing in there had changed since roughly 1975. The lights, the carpeting, the lockers, and especially the rental skates. It's quite possible the rental skates were used in the Civil War. When I exchanged my left skate because it insisted on turning right, I got another one that did exactly the same thing.
But the investment! I'm not sure how much the building cost (or whether it was rented or leased or what), but other than utilities and employees, there are essentially no expenses! Admission and skate rental was $10, and that's because we were part of a party. I need to invest in a roller rink.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
All-Star Game
Just for the heck of it, I watched a couple of innings of the MLB All-Star game last night. I don't normally watch baseball, but this was in a bar, so I figured it was OK.
I used to be a huge baseball fan. That was due to my parents, who took me to my first Mets game when I was—I don't know, 5 or 6—and enabled my ensuing addiction with baseball cards and box scores. I knew the name of every Met by the time I was 7. The Mets were awful back then, in the mid-to-late '70s, but I stuck with them all the way through the 1986 World Series championship and through the death of the should-have-been dynasty. Around that time I got seriously into basketball, and when the strike/workstoppage/whatever killed the Series in, what, 1994?, I pretty much gave up on baseball for good.
Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa pulled me back in briefly, and I've been somewhat of a casual follower of the sport ever since. I don't really watch SportsCenter, so I don't see many highlights, but occasionally I'll flip on a game if it seems intriguing.
Which brings me back to the All-Star game. It's been long enough since I seriously paid attention that there are current All-Stars that I don't even know. And then there are guys like Roger Clemens, who will probably be pitching when he's old enough to start beaning his own K-named grandchildren. To be honest, I didn't pay all that much attention to the game, except for Clemens' 1-2-3 inning, and Dontrelle Willis getting shelled (which is too bad, because he's one of my favorite athletes). But there are a few things I don't get:
1) Giving the MVP a new Corvette: Back in the day, it made sense. Athletes weren't making as much money, and a new car was a pretty big thing. Now the guys are making tens of millions, and a new $50,000 Corvette (in eye-melting yellow, no less) is just a gift for the kids. Or a trade-in on a Hummer. Meanwhile, the big 3 are going bankrupt while still paying God-knows-how-much to sponsor the All-Star game. Oh well, at least it was in Detroit.
2) The whole "winning league gets home field advantage in the World Series" is just plain stupid. Seriously. I guess it's cool that it gives the game a little meaning, but essentially, one team gets rewarded in the end. Is there really a sense of League pride in who wins the Series? When the Red Sox won, were the Yankees happy for them because they're a fellow AL squad? Somehow I doubt it.
I used to be a huge baseball fan. That was due to my parents, who took me to my first Mets game when I was—I don't know, 5 or 6—and enabled my ensuing addiction with baseball cards and box scores. I knew the name of every Met by the time I was 7. The Mets were awful back then, in the mid-to-late '70s, but I stuck with them all the way through the 1986 World Series championship and through the death of the should-have-been dynasty. Around that time I got seriously into basketball, and when the strike/workstoppage/whatever killed the Series in, what, 1994?, I pretty much gave up on baseball for good.
Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa pulled me back in briefly, and I've been somewhat of a casual follower of the sport ever since. I don't really watch SportsCenter, so I don't see many highlights, but occasionally I'll flip on a game if it seems intriguing.
Which brings me back to the All-Star game. It's been long enough since I seriously paid attention that there are current All-Stars that I don't even know. And then there are guys like Roger Clemens, who will probably be pitching when he's old enough to start beaning his own K-named grandchildren. To be honest, I didn't pay all that much attention to the game, except for Clemens' 1-2-3 inning, and Dontrelle Willis getting shelled (which is too bad, because he's one of my favorite athletes). But there are a few things I don't get:
1) Giving the MVP a new Corvette: Back in the day, it made sense. Athletes weren't making as much money, and a new car was a pretty big thing. Now the guys are making tens of millions, and a new $50,000 Corvette (in eye-melting yellow, no less) is just a gift for the kids. Or a trade-in on a Hummer. Meanwhile, the big 3 are going bankrupt while still paying God-knows-how-much to sponsor the All-Star game. Oh well, at least it was in Detroit.
2) The whole "winning league gets home field advantage in the World Series" is just plain stupid. Seriously. I guess it's cool that it gives the game a little meaning, but essentially, one team gets rewarded in the end. Is there really a sense of League pride in who wins the Series? When the Red Sox won, were the Yankees happy for them because they're a fellow AL squad? Somehow I doubt it.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
You're A Good Man, Larry Brown
Will someone please explain to me what's going on with the Larry Brown situation? As of right now, word is that he might get fired from the Detroit Pistons—whom he led to a championship and a Finals Game Seven. The Pistons's previous coach, in case you forgot, was Rick Carlisle, who led them to two straight 50-win seasons before HE was fired. (Which leads one to wonder what exactly it is they're looking for in a coach.)
They got rid of Carlisle because they had a chance to get Brown. They'll get rid of Brown—if they do—because he had the gall to interview for the Cavs job of team president DURING this year's Finals. And while yes, that's a major breach of etiquette, was anyone really surprised? Hiring Brown as your coach is like dating a girl from an escort service. You need to be satisfied with the job they do for you and not worry so much about what they're doing with other people.
But maybe that's not the real reason. After all, Joe Dumars has added a lot of young pieces--namely Darko Milicic, but also Carlos Arroyo and Carlos Delfino--who have barely gotten off the bench. While winning has been great, it wouldn't be a bad idea to start developing some of that young talent. You know, just in case some of the other guys on the team start aging.
The thing that's the most mind-boggling, though, is the idea of Larry Brown coaching the Knicks. Not only is their payroll higher than the GNP of some countries already (while LB won't count against the cap, he'll definitely command a high seven-figure salary), but it's just hard to see how he'll be able to help out the Knicks. First off, he's widely known to be extra-hard on point guards, and neither Stephon Marbury or Jamal Crawford are exactly prototypical ones. Factor in the three rookies they just added, and the fact that they just traded the one player who knew how to play defense to the Suns, and, well—if Brown does come to New York, he'll be interviewing for other jobs by the All-Star break.
They got rid of Carlisle because they had a chance to get Brown. They'll get rid of Brown—if they do—because he had the gall to interview for the Cavs job of team president DURING this year's Finals. And while yes, that's a major breach of etiquette, was anyone really surprised? Hiring Brown as your coach is like dating a girl from an escort service. You need to be satisfied with the job they do for you and not worry so much about what they're doing with other people.
But maybe that's not the real reason. After all, Joe Dumars has added a lot of young pieces--namely Darko Milicic, but also Carlos Arroyo and Carlos Delfino--who have barely gotten off the bench. While winning has been great, it wouldn't be a bad idea to start developing some of that young talent. You know, just in case some of the other guys on the team start aging.
The thing that's the most mind-boggling, though, is the idea of Larry Brown coaching the Knicks. Not only is their payroll higher than the GNP of some countries already (while LB won't count against the cap, he'll definitely command a high seven-figure salary), but it's just hard to see how he'll be able to help out the Knicks. First off, he's widely known to be extra-hard on point guards, and neither Stephon Marbury or Jamal Crawford are exactly prototypical ones. Factor in the three rookies they just added, and the fact that they just traded the one player who knew how to play defense to the Suns, and, well—if Brown does come to New York, he'll be interviewing for other jobs by the All-Star break.
Sunday, July 10, 2005
Like Mike?
I've gotta run out to this thing in the Bronx, so I figured I'd post this thing I wrote a little while ago on whether Michael Jordan was the best basketball player ever. I think it asks more questions than it answers, but I never thought there was a "correct" answer to begin with. See what you think.
Not that he planned it, but Michael Jordan had the luxury of peaking when interest in professional basketball absolutely exploded. Larry Bird and Magic Johnson laid down the foundation, and he built the mansion. Jordan’s personality, his game, his style--all were expertly tailored for his time. For a while, at least, he was the most famous individual on the planet. He had a fresh pair of shoes every game, millions of dollars before he even knew what to do with them. The right players were assembled around him, the right coach was brought in, and everyone's talent was maximized. His on-court and off-court personas were meshed perfectly, thanks to Nike, Wieden & Kennedy, Spike Lee and, of course, Michael himself. Michael Jordan would have been a star in any era—but in ours, he went way beyond.
What is greatness? How is it defined? Is it just numbers? If that was the case, you'd need to look to Wilt Chamberlain or Oscar Robertson. One averaged 54 and 20 for a season, the other damn near averaged a triple-double for a decade. Is it intangibles? Winning? If that's the case, you might want to turn to Bill Russell. He earned 11 rings and essentially invented modern defense. His outlet passes and blocks triggered a fast-break offense that often ended in someone else getting the bucket. He wasn't just a hall-of-famer, he made countless others into hall-of-famers as well. The ability to play several positions? That would be Magic Johnson.
You can certainly make a sound argument that Jordan was the greatest ever. He's got the numbers to back it up, from scoring titles to defensive awards to championship rings. Forget about Spike and Mike—even without the unprecedented publicity push, Jordan was a transcendent player who could have dominated in any era. But it’s far too easy for us to be blinded by recent memory—who actually remembers seeing Oscar, Bill, Wilt, Earl Monroe? Meanwhile, we all saw Mike on TNT, on ABC, on NBC, on IMax. We bought his shoes, we wanted to be like Mike. Is it any wonder we put him before others?
Even his astounding longevity is at least partially due to the era in which he played. Modern athletes have professional trainers, multi-million dollar shoe research labs, nutritionists, five-star hotels and the best medical care the world has ever known. X-ray machines in the locker rooms, massage therapists at their beck and call, private jets. Meanwhile Bill Russell was turned away from ordinary hotels because of the color of his skin. Couldn't eat in restaurants, flew in cramped quarters, gutted out injuries. Played in canvas hightops in cold arenas on deadwood floors. A serious knee injury now might knock you out for a year—back then it probably meant your career. And if you did come back, you were never the same again.
Who's best? Nobody will ever truly know. And that's the triple truth, Ruth.
Not that he planned it, but Michael Jordan had the luxury of peaking when interest in professional basketball absolutely exploded. Larry Bird and Magic Johnson laid down the foundation, and he built the mansion. Jordan’s personality, his game, his style--all were expertly tailored for his time. For a while, at least, he was the most famous individual on the planet. He had a fresh pair of shoes every game, millions of dollars before he even knew what to do with them. The right players were assembled around him, the right coach was brought in, and everyone's talent was maximized. His on-court and off-court personas were meshed perfectly, thanks to Nike, Wieden & Kennedy, Spike Lee and, of course, Michael himself. Michael Jordan would have been a star in any era—but in ours, he went way beyond.
What is greatness? How is it defined? Is it just numbers? If that was the case, you'd need to look to Wilt Chamberlain or Oscar Robertson. One averaged 54 and 20 for a season, the other damn near averaged a triple-double for a decade. Is it intangibles? Winning? If that's the case, you might want to turn to Bill Russell. He earned 11 rings and essentially invented modern defense. His outlet passes and blocks triggered a fast-break offense that often ended in someone else getting the bucket. He wasn't just a hall-of-famer, he made countless others into hall-of-famers as well. The ability to play several positions? That would be Magic Johnson.
You can certainly make a sound argument that Jordan was the greatest ever. He's got the numbers to back it up, from scoring titles to defensive awards to championship rings. Forget about Spike and Mike—even without the unprecedented publicity push, Jordan was a transcendent player who could have dominated in any era. But it’s far too easy for us to be blinded by recent memory—who actually remembers seeing Oscar, Bill, Wilt, Earl Monroe? Meanwhile, we all saw Mike on TNT, on ABC, on NBC, on IMax. We bought his shoes, we wanted to be like Mike. Is it any wonder we put him before others?
Even his astounding longevity is at least partially due to the era in which he played. Modern athletes have professional trainers, multi-million dollar shoe research labs, nutritionists, five-star hotels and the best medical care the world has ever known. X-ray machines in the locker rooms, massage therapists at their beck and call, private jets. Meanwhile Bill Russell was turned away from ordinary hotels because of the color of his skin. Couldn't eat in restaurants, flew in cramped quarters, gutted out injuries. Played in canvas hightops in cold arenas on deadwood floors. A serious knee injury now might knock you out for a year—back then it probably meant your career. And if you did come back, you were never the same again.
Who's best? Nobody will ever truly know. And that's the triple truth, Ruth.
What's With The Infrequency, Kenneth? (Starbury Time)
I know, I know--I'm actually updating two days in a row. Shocking! Nothing terribly exciting today, but I want to start putting stuff up every day just to keep myself busy. And to keep writing. And so Lang will leave me the hell alone. (All love.)
All I wanted to write about today was the recent profane reaction of Knicks vice president (president? GM?) Isiah Thomas to a question as to whether he was considering trading Stephon Marbury. In an expletive-filled response, he essentially suggested to the assembled media throng that it was more likely that he'd jump off the Brooklyn Bridge. Are you kidding me? Because if that's true, Isiah should be fired. Immediately.
Let's face it. Stephon has been more trouble than he's worth ever since he left Minnesota (which was his first and biggest mistake). He doesn't make his teammates better, he's petulant, he bruises easier than a day-old apple, and his morose attitude when the chips are down is dangerously contagious--all the more so when you consider he's the leader of an increasingly young team. And this, mind you is from someone who for years was painted as one of Steph's staunchest supporters. And honestly, I still like him tremendously, both as a person and a player. I just think he's a bad fit for the new-look Knicks (ironic, seeing that he was the first, and biggest, acquisition).
It goes all the way to the way he plays the game. Given his attack mentality, and despite his occasionally brilliant playmaking, Steph should be a scorer. And he needs to part of a winning team, where his downcast attitude wouldn't be as much of an issue. And--the biggest thing, playingwise--Steph just isn't an up-and-down guy. He never has been. Even in New Jersey, with Kenyon Martin and Kerry Kittles, he wanted to bring the ball up slowly, and play in the half-court set. If the Knicks truly want to be a running team, they need a different point guard.
Then there's the matter of his max contract, which will pay him roughly 20 million annually for the next three years. Why WOULDN'T Isiah want to move that? As a guy who says he cherishes flexibility, why would he want to dedicate roughly a third of the cap for the next three years to an aging, miscast, redundant, misanthropic guard? Just because he's from Brooklyn? Why not try and actually free up cap space to draw a marquee free agent like, say, LeBron James? And, even more inexplicably, why would Zeke so categorically and emphatically deny it--except perhaps to save Steph's easily hurt feelings? Trading Stephon Marbury shouldn't only be a possibility for the New York Knicks, it should be an inevitability. The homecoming was the feel-good story of the year, but the experiment failed. Let both parties move on.
Where to trade him? I was thinking Memphis, for Jason Williams and the admittedly cancerous Bonzi Wells. Start Wells at the three, with Williams running (literally) the point and Quentin Richardson at the two, with Jamal Crawford being the first guard off the bench. Or replace Wells with a re-signed Stromile Swift and include someone like Michael Sweetney. (I haven't looked up salary numbers, but the new CBA loosened the salary restrictions anyway). I don't know, just something to think about. It would definitely make both teams better--Memphis would be rid of some headaches, and the Knicks could REALLY start running. And you know how many "Williams 55" Knick jerseys would sell?
Honestly, I don't think Steph plays another game for the Knicks. And, if so, I can't wait to hear what Isiah has to say then.
All I wanted to write about today was the recent profane reaction of Knicks vice president (president? GM?) Isiah Thomas to a question as to whether he was considering trading Stephon Marbury. In an expletive-filled response, he essentially suggested to the assembled media throng that it was more likely that he'd jump off the Brooklyn Bridge. Are you kidding me? Because if that's true, Isiah should be fired. Immediately.
Let's face it. Stephon has been more trouble than he's worth ever since he left Minnesota (which was his first and biggest mistake). He doesn't make his teammates better, he's petulant, he bruises easier than a day-old apple, and his morose attitude when the chips are down is dangerously contagious--all the more so when you consider he's the leader of an increasingly young team. And this, mind you is from someone who for years was painted as one of Steph's staunchest supporters. And honestly, I still like him tremendously, both as a person and a player. I just think he's a bad fit for the new-look Knicks (ironic, seeing that he was the first, and biggest, acquisition).
It goes all the way to the way he plays the game. Given his attack mentality, and despite his occasionally brilliant playmaking, Steph should be a scorer. And he needs to part of a winning team, where his downcast attitude wouldn't be as much of an issue. And--the biggest thing, playingwise--Steph just isn't an up-and-down guy. He never has been. Even in New Jersey, with Kenyon Martin and Kerry Kittles, he wanted to bring the ball up slowly, and play in the half-court set. If the Knicks truly want to be a running team, they need a different point guard.
Then there's the matter of his max contract, which will pay him roughly 20 million annually for the next three years. Why WOULDN'T Isiah want to move that? As a guy who says he cherishes flexibility, why would he want to dedicate roughly a third of the cap for the next three years to an aging, miscast, redundant, misanthropic guard? Just because he's from Brooklyn? Why not try and actually free up cap space to draw a marquee free agent like, say, LeBron James? And, even more inexplicably, why would Zeke so categorically and emphatically deny it--except perhaps to save Steph's easily hurt feelings? Trading Stephon Marbury shouldn't only be a possibility for the New York Knicks, it should be an inevitability. The homecoming was the feel-good story of the year, but the experiment failed. Let both parties move on.
Where to trade him? I was thinking Memphis, for Jason Williams and the admittedly cancerous Bonzi Wells. Start Wells at the three, with Williams running (literally) the point and Quentin Richardson at the two, with Jamal Crawford being the first guard off the bench. Or replace Wells with a re-signed Stromile Swift and include someone like Michael Sweetney. (I haven't looked up salary numbers, but the new CBA loosened the salary restrictions anyway). I don't know, just something to think about. It would definitely make both teams better--Memphis would be rid of some headaches, and the Knicks could REALLY start running. And you know how many "Williams 55" Knick jerseys would sell?
Honestly, I don't think Steph plays another game for the Knicks. And, if so, I can't wait to hear what Isiah has to say then.
Friday, July 08, 2005
Morning Glory
I'm not a morning person. Never have been, never will be. Well, except for Saturday cartoons when I was a little kid, and the occasional late night that runs into sunrise. Yet, for the past week, I've been waking up easily (sort of) at 8 a.m. to watch each passing stage of the Tour de France.
My hatred for mornings, you see, is counterbalanced by my love for cycling. Any kind of cycling. I started as a BMXer, and while I remain a BMXer at heart, I've since expanded into mountain, track, and road. I share my studio apartment with 11 complete bicycles, and enough parts to assemble a half-dozen more. And despite my current freelance existence, I recently spent close to $2,000 on a brand-new Orbea road bike, a 17 or so pound creation of aluminum, carbon and steel that provides equal amounts of pleasure and pain. In between nights of carousing this holiday weekend, I managed rides of 30 and 40 miles, concentrating on pedaling steadily and seeing how fast I could go (34.1 mph). Mainly what I learned is that I'm quite out of shape--my beer consumption probably being rather higher than that of the average road professional.
Which brings us back to the Tour. I've always been aware of it, of course, seeing that it's the most celebrated bicycle race in the world. I probably first really knew what it was when Greg LeMond was winning in the '80s, and started watching--at least a little--when Lance Armstrong started his run. But until this year, I hadn't paid this close attention. And until I started riding (for me) big distances, I didn't really appreciate what went into this kind of race.
I've ridden bicycles my whole life--30-plus years now--and I can barely fathom what these guys accomplish over three weeks in July. For example, my high speed of 34 mph was established in Brooklyn's Prospect Park, coming down a long hill in the big gear. Hammering. Wind whipping through my helmet, fluttering my jersey and buffeting my ears. It felt super fast, and it bled away once the road levelled out. Yet these guys AVERAGE that, top it--while going uphill at times, through rain, screaming fans pressed to both sides of the road, and other cyclists constantly running inches off their wheels--for 100-plus miles and four hours at a stretch. And then, at the end, they stand in their pedals and sprint for the line, hitting 40-plus, banging shoulders and elbows and somehow staying on two. And then they get up the next morning and do the same thing, only faster. Anyone who watches cycling and thinks it's boring has obviously never ridden.
Like stock car racing and even track events, it's difficult to comprehend just how fast people are traveling just by watching the TV coverage. With everyone tight in packs of equally fast competitors, the sense of relative speed is tempered greatly. But with the Tour, you get a better idea than in other events. Look at the team cars following, the motorcycles with the time boards pulling ahead, even the spectators and dotted lines rushing past. That's speed.
As fantastic as it would be for Lance Armstrong to win a seventh-straight Tour (an unprecedented amount), I'm rooting for a former BMXer from Australia named Robbie McEwen. A tiny, sinewy sprinter, McEwen has already won two stages, and placed third in another. Of course, he was disqualified from that stage for putting his head in the chest of a competitor (who happened to be elbowing him at the same time--while they were both at full bore). McEwen is also known to end stages by wheelieing across the line. As a BMXer myself, how can I not be on his side?
But Armstrong is still inevitably a huge presence. It's fast approaching a year straight that I've been wearing a yellow LiveStrong band. It's always meant a lot--my grandfather died of cancer when I was six, and my aunt passed from myeloma a few weeks back--but it's this time of year when it means the most. Hopefully some of the previous explains why.
My hatred for mornings, you see, is counterbalanced by my love for cycling. Any kind of cycling. I started as a BMXer, and while I remain a BMXer at heart, I've since expanded into mountain, track, and road. I share my studio apartment with 11 complete bicycles, and enough parts to assemble a half-dozen more. And despite my current freelance existence, I recently spent close to $2,000 on a brand-new Orbea road bike, a 17 or so pound creation of aluminum, carbon and steel that provides equal amounts of pleasure and pain. In between nights of carousing this holiday weekend, I managed rides of 30 and 40 miles, concentrating on pedaling steadily and seeing how fast I could go (34.1 mph). Mainly what I learned is that I'm quite out of shape--my beer consumption probably being rather higher than that of the average road professional.
Which brings us back to the Tour. I've always been aware of it, of course, seeing that it's the most celebrated bicycle race in the world. I probably first really knew what it was when Greg LeMond was winning in the '80s, and started watching--at least a little--when Lance Armstrong started his run. But until this year, I hadn't paid this close attention. And until I started riding (for me) big distances, I didn't really appreciate what went into this kind of race.
I've ridden bicycles my whole life--30-plus years now--and I can barely fathom what these guys accomplish over three weeks in July. For example, my high speed of 34 mph was established in Brooklyn's Prospect Park, coming down a long hill in the big gear. Hammering. Wind whipping through my helmet, fluttering my jersey and buffeting my ears. It felt super fast, and it bled away once the road levelled out. Yet these guys AVERAGE that, top it--while going uphill at times, through rain, screaming fans pressed to both sides of the road, and other cyclists constantly running inches off their wheels--for 100-plus miles and four hours at a stretch. And then, at the end, they stand in their pedals and sprint for the line, hitting 40-plus, banging shoulders and elbows and somehow staying on two. And then they get up the next morning and do the same thing, only faster. Anyone who watches cycling and thinks it's boring has obviously never ridden.
Like stock car racing and even track events, it's difficult to comprehend just how fast people are traveling just by watching the TV coverage. With everyone tight in packs of equally fast competitors, the sense of relative speed is tempered greatly. But with the Tour, you get a better idea than in other events. Look at the team cars following, the motorcycles with the time boards pulling ahead, even the spectators and dotted lines rushing past. That's speed.
As fantastic as it would be for Lance Armstrong to win a seventh-straight Tour (an unprecedented amount), I'm rooting for a former BMXer from Australia named Robbie McEwen. A tiny, sinewy sprinter, McEwen has already won two stages, and placed third in another. Of course, he was disqualified from that stage for putting his head in the chest of a competitor (who happened to be elbowing him at the same time--while they were both at full bore). McEwen is also known to end stages by wheelieing across the line. As a BMXer myself, how can I not be on his side?
But Armstrong is still inevitably a huge presence. It's fast approaching a year straight that I've been wearing a yellow LiveStrong band. It's always meant a lot--my grandfather died of cancer when I was six, and my aunt passed from myeloma a few weeks back--but it's this time of year when it means the most. Hopefully some of the previous explains why.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
Second Round Knockout
Second round kicking off around 10:30. I need to catch a 7:40 train to L.I. tomorrow for a funeral, but as long as I get a couple hours of sleep, it’s cool. I’ve gotta stay up for some of the second round at least, seeing that the Bulls haven’t had a pick yet. Wait, did they just finish the Coach K Spurs commercial now? Also, how many former Blue Devils are on the Spurs or the Pistons?
The Hawks are up first (forget the time thing for the second round) and Russ Granik is in his usual jovial mood. The Hawks get Salim Stoudamire, who is at least someone I’ve heard of. The new Jason Terry? He’s pretty much a two guard in a (small) point guard’s body. But Jay Bilas just used the phrase “pity party,” so it’s all good. And it really won’t be hard for him to be the starting point guard for the Hawks, because I’m not sure if they really have one.
And the clock’s rolling fast, and the Clippers take Daniel Ewing, the first Devil picked. As usual, identifiable names are going early in the second round, but there’ll sure be a bunch of unknowns coming. We’ll see how Ewing fits with Shaun Livingston.
The Hornets take Brandon Bass from Louisiana State—a local cat. He’s a beast, that’s for sure. And they might well need a replacement for P.J. Brown one of these days. Andriuskevicius and Chad Ford must be seriously bumming right now.
The Jazz get C.J. Miles outta high school. Jerry Sloan is going to eat him alive. And is it me, or did he go to the same high school as Rashard Lewis?
Portland takes Ricky Sanchez, another high school kid, with Monta Ellis still on the board. And Milwaukee takes some Turkish dude during a commercial break.
The Lakers go French! Ronny Turiaf! Not a bad pick. And are all the French guys there? Toughness is good—he’ll probably be better than Bynum next year. Although he sorts seems like a French version of Brian Grant.
Magic go Travis Diener! Sometimes you just have to take the best dorky looking guy available. The Lakers are on the clock again—did they cut someone?
Trade! Jarrett Jack for Kleiza and Sanchez, as predicted. Underwhelming. Although does Jarrett Jack beat out Bassy for the starting job?
The Lakers take Von Wafer, which is way cooler, at least based on his name. In fact, he could very well have the coolest name in the entire draft. If his locker doesn’t have his full name on it in the same script as “Von Dutch” (in L.A., no less!), Paris Hilton and I will be very disappointed.
I love the sudden death aspect of the second round—and the Warriors finally take Monta Ellis off the board. Yeesh, and he’s already signed with an agent. Just hope he doesn’t turn into the next DaJuan Wagner—and he doesn’t even have half of Wagner’s build.
Raptors are back on the board, and they thankfully cut to commercial. I’m not sure if I want to see this either. Incidentally, with the 2 and 3 picks in the 1996 Draft, the Raptors and Grizzlies took Marcus Camby and Shareef Abdur-Rahim respectively. What if one of them had taken Steve Nash? (With 41, the Raptors take Roko-Leni Ukic. Just so you know.)
The Warriors take Chris Taft at No. 42. Wasn’t he supposed to be a top-10 pick at the start of the year? Would he maybe have been a top-10 pick next year? No. 42—as worn by one-time Warrior Donyell Marshall, who also underachieved for a while. Hopefully he succeeds earlier.
Another guy gets taken during a commercial break—Mile Ilic to the Nets. Somehow I thought that was all one name. As it goes, it’s the second-best name in the draft. And then we get Dick Vitale after an extended break with an extended rant about kids who should have stayed in school. Never saw that one coming. And they go to commercial again, thus ensuring we’ll miss at least one more pick (Orlando at 44). This is probably a plot by the Sternbot to ensure Granik gets less facetime than he does.
We get back in time for Philly at 45—Louis Williams, from South Gwinnett High. Lots of high school second-rounders, but what the hell, they wouldn’t even be eligible for the draft next year. They wanna go for that Rashard Lewis second-round money. And Jay Bilas with the smackdown! Indy’s on the shotclock, and we still don’t know who Orlando took. Actually, Granik is back out to mention that the Pacers made up—er, took—Erazem Lorbek from Slovenia. And the Magic took Andriuskevicius! From lottery pick to “selected during the commercial break.” That’s a long way to fall.
Rob Babcock from T-dot on the video conference trying to explain the Villanueva pick. He’s not terribly convincing. And he doesn’t really make sense, either. Go Toronto! (To an American market.)
The Sonics get Mickaël Gelabale from Guadeloupe—the first umlauted player selected. This is apparently more important than pick No. 47, which was a Timberwolf pick that we’ve never heard. Also, Gelabale’s draft hat is the most amazing thing ever. (Where are all these French guys coming from?) No. 47 was Bracey Wright from Indiana. No umlauts.
The Wizards take Andray Blatche, another high schooler. Probably the first player to have “Andray” spelled that way. He’s probably just as good as Kwame Brown, and he was picked a mere 48 picks lower.
50! Ryan Gomes from Providence to the Celtics. He’s a local, and a COLLEGE senior. He reminds Jay Bilas of Adrian Dantley, which is pretty good at 50. And probably pretty exaggerated.
The Nuggets select a guy named Axel from Belgium. This is perhaps a sign that the second round need not be televised. Almost immediately, the Celtics take someone else whose name I don’t even catch. Orien Greene. And I already missed pick No. 51, which occurred during the break. The Knicks are on the clock, though. And they’re using all of it, apparently.
No. 51 was Robert Whaley, actually, who was once a highly-touted high school star. Big drop right there. Maybe Jerry Sloan can do something with him.
The Knicks take Dijon Thompson from UCLA. Another skinny swing to go with Trevor Ariza, assuming he makes the squad. And that gets the Sonics back on the board. ESPN business reporter Darren Rovell cutting off Mike Tirico in the middle of a question about Bogut’s marketing power is incredibly great—maybe the second round SHOULD be televised after all.
Granik attak—the Sonics get Lawrence Roberts. Once again, LATE after being a first-team All-American in ’04. Someone who SHOULD have left school early? Not that anyone will mention it on the air.
Five picks left, and it’s already 11:35. Does a two-round draft REALLY need to be four hours long? The Pistons take Amir Johnson, yet another high school second rounder.
Marcin Gortat either just got selected or he won a preliminary round at Wimbledon. One or the other. Kiki Vandeweghe is talking and I’m not listening. Also, I missed the last pick. Oh, Toronto took Uros Slokar to compete in mixed doubles. No big deal. The Hawks have the 59th pick, which seems pointless. Then the Pistons get the last guy. Mr. Irrelevant.
I guess the Hawks pick was pointless, since they go straight to Granik for No. 60. The Pistons take Alex Acker, who I’ve never heard of. It’s not like Larry Brown will play him assuming he makes the team and assuming Larry Brown is still coaching.
The hell with analysis and the Hawks pick—it’s 11:47 and I’m going to bed.
The Hawks are up first (forget the time thing for the second round) and Russ Granik is in his usual jovial mood. The Hawks get Salim Stoudamire, who is at least someone I’ve heard of. The new Jason Terry? He’s pretty much a two guard in a (small) point guard’s body. But Jay Bilas just used the phrase “pity party,” so it’s all good. And it really won’t be hard for him to be the starting point guard for the Hawks, because I’m not sure if they really have one.
And the clock’s rolling fast, and the Clippers take Daniel Ewing, the first Devil picked. As usual, identifiable names are going early in the second round, but there’ll sure be a bunch of unknowns coming. We’ll see how Ewing fits with Shaun Livingston.
The Hornets take Brandon Bass from Louisiana State—a local cat. He’s a beast, that’s for sure. And they might well need a replacement for P.J. Brown one of these days. Andriuskevicius and Chad Ford must be seriously bumming right now.
The Jazz get C.J. Miles outta high school. Jerry Sloan is going to eat him alive. And is it me, or did he go to the same high school as Rashard Lewis?
Portland takes Ricky Sanchez, another high school kid, with Monta Ellis still on the board. And Milwaukee takes some Turkish dude during a commercial break.
The Lakers go French! Ronny Turiaf! Not a bad pick. And are all the French guys there? Toughness is good—he’ll probably be better than Bynum next year. Although he sorts seems like a French version of Brian Grant.
Magic go Travis Diener! Sometimes you just have to take the best dorky looking guy available. The Lakers are on the clock again—did they cut someone?
Trade! Jarrett Jack for Kleiza and Sanchez, as predicted. Underwhelming. Although does Jarrett Jack beat out Bassy for the starting job?
The Lakers take Von Wafer, which is way cooler, at least based on his name. In fact, he could very well have the coolest name in the entire draft. If his locker doesn’t have his full name on it in the same script as “Von Dutch” (in L.A., no less!), Paris Hilton and I will be very disappointed.
I love the sudden death aspect of the second round—and the Warriors finally take Monta Ellis off the board. Yeesh, and he’s already signed with an agent. Just hope he doesn’t turn into the next DaJuan Wagner—and he doesn’t even have half of Wagner’s build.
Raptors are back on the board, and they thankfully cut to commercial. I’m not sure if I want to see this either. Incidentally, with the 2 and 3 picks in the 1996 Draft, the Raptors and Grizzlies took Marcus Camby and Shareef Abdur-Rahim respectively. What if one of them had taken Steve Nash? (With 41, the Raptors take Roko-Leni Ukic. Just so you know.)
The Warriors take Chris Taft at No. 42. Wasn’t he supposed to be a top-10 pick at the start of the year? Would he maybe have been a top-10 pick next year? No. 42—as worn by one-time Warrior Donyell Marshall, who also underachieved for a while. Hopefully he succeeds earlier.
Another guy gets taken during a commercial break—Mile Ilic to the Nets. Somehow I thought that was all one name. As it goes, it’s the second-best name in the draft. And then we get Dick Vitale after an extended break with an extended rant about kids who should have stayed in school. Never saw that one coming. And they go to commercial again, thus ensuring we’ll miss at least one more pick (Orlando at 44). This is probably a plot by the Sternbot to ensure Granik gets less facetime than he does.
We get back in time for Philly at 45—Louis Williams, from South Gwinnett High. Lots of high school second-rounders, but what the hell, they wouldn’t even be eligible for the draft next year. They wanna go for that Rashard Lewis second-round money. And Jay Bilas with the smackdown! Indy’s on the shotclock, and we still don’t know who Orlando took. Actually, Granik is back out to mention that the Pacers made up—er, took—Erazem Lorbek from Slovenia. And the Magic took Andriuskevicius! From lottery pick to “selected during the commercial break.” That’s a long way to fall.
Rob Babcock from T-dot on the video conference trying to explain the Villanueva pick. He’s not terribly convincing. And he doesn’t really make sense, either. Go Toronto! (To an American market.)
The Sonics get Mickaël Gelabale from Guadeloupe—the first umlauted player selected. This is apparently more important than pick No. 47, which was a Timberwolf pick that we’ve never heard. Also, Gelabale’s draft hat is the most amazing thing ever. (Where are all these French guys coming from?) No. 47 was Bracey Wright from Indiana. No umlauts.
The Wizards take Andray Blatche, another high schooler. Probably the first player to have “Andray” spelled that way. He’s probably just as good as Kwame Brown, and he was picked a mere 48 picks lower.
50! Ryan Gomes from Providence to the Celtics. He’s a local, and a COLLEGE senior. He reminds Jay Bilas of Adrian Dantley, which is pretty good at 50. And probably pretty exaggerated.
The Nuggets select a guy named Axel from Belgium. This is perhaps a sign that the second round need not be televised. Almost immediately, the Celtics take someone else whose name I don’t even catch. Orien Greene. And I already missed pick No. 51, which occurred during the break. The Knicks are on the clock, though. And they’re using all of it, apparently.
No. 51 was Robert Whaley, actually, who was once a highly-touted high school star. Big drop right there. Maybe Jerry Sloan can do something with him.
The Knicks take Dijon Thompson from UCLA. Another skinny swing to go with Trevor Ariza, assuming he makes the squad. And that gets the Sonics back on the board. ESPN business reporter Darren Rovell cutting off Mike Tirico in the middle of a question about Bogut’s marketing power is incredibly great—maybe the second round SHOULD be televised after all.
Granik attak—the Sonics get Lawrence Roberts. Once again, LATE after being a first-team All-American in ’04. Someone who SHOULD have left school early? Not that anyone will mention it on the air.
Five picks left, and it’s already 11:35. Does a two-round draft REALLY need to be four hours long? The Pistons take Amir Johnson, yet another high school second rounder.
Marcin Gortat either just got selected or he won a preliminary round at Wimbledon. One or the other. Kiki Vandeweghe is talking and I’m not listening. Also, I missed the last pick. Oh, Toronto took Uros Slokar to compete in mixed doubles. No big deal. The Hawks have the 59th pick, which seems pointless. Then the Pistons get the last guy. Mr. Irrelevant.
I guess the Hawks pick was pointless, since they go straight to Granik for No. 60. The Pistons take Alex Acker, who I’ve never heard of. It’s not like Larry Brown will play him assuming he makes the team and assuming Larry Brown is still coaching.
The hell with analysis and the Hawks pick—it’s 11:47 and I’m going to bed.
Draft Mockery (3)
9:02 – The Nets take Antoine Wright? I’ve gotta be honest, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him play. Guess I’ve gotta trust the Nets, but doesn’t he play the same position as Vince and Richard Jefferson? Also, Bernie Bickerstaff knows what’s up. The Raptors are up next, and I expect them to take someone I’ve never heard of.
9:08 – Well, I’ve heard of Joey Graham. And he’s a decent replacement for Vince Carter, I’d think. David Stern will still have to do some magic with free agency to keep the NBA viable in Canada, though. They’re still not looking like a playoff team, and I can’t imagine many people really care anymore. Where’s Green and Granger? The Pacers up next—take Green!
9:12 – The Pacers take Granger, who’s also a great pick. He’s good to go, obviously, and should fit in well. Worse comes to worse, he’s probably got more trade value than the average 17th pick. Celtics up next with their first pick of the day.
9:18 – Gerald GREEN to the Celtics? Guess that makes sense. They’re stockpiling the youth, that’s for sure. Al Jefferson is already terrific, and Green should be up there once he bulks up a bit. Well, if he even has to—Larry Hughes, Tayshaun Prince and Rip Hamilton are fine skinny. The Grizzlies are on the clock, and who’s left in the green room? Just Hakim Warrick.
9:24 – And he’s not lonely for long. With Warrick, Stro Show, Pau Gasol and Lorenzen Wright, I’m guessing someone (or two) is out of town soon. Bilas and Vitale should love this one. I just don’t quite get what position he’s going to play. He’s athletic as hell, but the basketball talent is the concern. Especially if he has to play the 3. Denver’s on the clock. And is it just me, or is being overlooked the story of EVERY basketball player’s life? Well, except maybe Shaq.
9:31 – Neat—they talk about Julius Hodge when Warrick got picked, and the Nuggets take Hodge. They certainly need a two guard out there in Denver, and Hodge is a good one. Work on that trey, Julius. And did Jerry West just say that Hakim Warrick was a great player at Princeton? Phoenix is up.
9:36 – Nate the (new) Skate! To Phoenix! Which is awesome for the few minutes it lasts, until it’s revealed that he might end up in New York in the Quentin Richardson deal. But if Q is coming in as the starting 2, and Crawford is supposed to back up both spots, where does Nate fit in? At least he’s properly undersized. He’ll probably start at power forward.
9:42 – Denver with Jarrett Jack. He’ll have to be the backup point guard for a while, but the Nuggets get another strong ACC guy. And best yet, NO one from Duke has been picked yet. Not that it’s been expected, but it’s still nice to see a complete lack of Blue Devils. Sacto’s up. And incidentally, I feel like Danny Granger’s singing may have played a role in his dropping out of the lottery.
9:50 – The Kings take Francisco Garcia. Someone else who can help right away, and of course he’ll appeal to the huge Hispanic population in Sacramento. “Must Improve: Durability.” Um yeah, that’s simple, right? Just get some new bumpers.
9:55 – Luther Head to the Rockets. He’s going to get to play with two superstars? Yao Ming isn’t a superstar yet. And the Sonics, up next, are allegedly excited about Andrieuskivicius—don’t they already have Robert Swift and Nick Collison? And they technically don’t have a coach, either.
9:56 – DAMN YOU, COACH K. AND AMERICAN EXPRESS!!!!!
9:59 – The Sonics take Johan Petro and mess the whole thing up. A different international cat, but at least he might be sort of ready to go. Then again, he’s 19, too. Watching international highlights never gets old—love the trapezoidal lane. An out-of-the-crowder, at least Tony Parker’s got company. Trade proposal! Nuggets to send Jarrett Jack for the 27th pick and the 35th. Who cares? The Pistons are up next, and they should definitely take Andrieuskivicius to use as another bookend with Darko Milicic. That would also get rid of Larry Brown.
10:03 – I respect the money he’s making, but something about the Mos Def GMC commercial just seems really wrong. Can’t help but wonder what Talib Kweli thinks.
10:06 – Jason Maxiell? He’s an athlete, I suppose, but he’s kind of short for what he does. And where the heck is he going to play? Ruben Patterson 2005!
10:10 – Blazers! Linas Kleiza! He looks good in highlights, even though he played for that slimeball in Missouri. Spurs on the clock.
10:17 – The Spurs take Ian Mahinmi from France. He’s here, too. And he’s only played basketball for four years! He’s wearing all off-white, including the tie. And he probably won’t be back in the U.S. to play anytime soon. Only two more first rounders, thank God. Miami and the Knicks. This round seriously takes forever—can we cut the time between picks to four minutes?
10:20 – Mike Tirico annoys Sonic coach Nate McMillan. Big ups to Nate for brushing off the coaching/contractual questions. Just for that, I hope the Sonics re-up him.
10:23 – Miami takes Wayne Simien, who should definitely like playing with Shaq. And yep, Vitale is effervescent. Gotta love them seniors. Knicks are on the clock, and the crowd is on edge.
10:28 – The natives are restless. And the Knicks take David Lee, and the boos start. I don’t know—Lee seems like a good sort. Athletic, can shoot, got some size. He should be able to play the three, too—even though he’s taller than all their power forwards. Here endeth the first round.
9:08 – Well, I’ve heard of Joey Graham. And he’s a decent replacement for Vince Carter, I’d think. David Stern will still have to do some magic with free agency to keep the NBA viable in Canada, though. They’re still not looking like a playoff team, and I can’t imagine many people really care anymore. Where’s Green and Granger? The Pacers up next—take Green!
9:12 – The Pacers take Granger, who’s also a great pick. He’s good to go, obviously, and should fit in well. Worse comes to worse, he’s probably got more trade value than the average 17th pick. Celtics up next with their first pick of the day.
9:18 – Gerald GREEN to the Celtics? Guess that makes sense. They’re stockpiling the youth, that’s for sure. Al Jefferson is already terrific, and Green should be up there once he bulks up a bit. Well, if he even has to—Larry Hughes, Tayshaun Prince and Rip Hamilton are fine skinny. The Grizzlies are on the clock, and who’s left in the green room? Just Hakim Warrick.
9:24 – And he’s not lonely for long. With Warrick, Stro Show, Pau Gasol and Lorenzen Wright, I’m guessing someone (or two) is out of town soon. Bilas and Vitale should love this one. I just don’t quite get what position he’s going to play. He’s athletic as hell, but the basketball talent is the concern. Especially if he has to play the 3. Denver’s on the clock. And is it just me, or is being overlooked the story of EVERY basketball player’s life? Well, except maybe Shaq.
9:31 – Neat—they talk about Julius Hodge when Warrick got picked, and the Nuggets take Hodge. They certainly need a two guard out there in Denver, and Hodge is a good one. Work on that trey, Julius. And did Jerry West just say that Hakim Warrick was a great player at Princeton? Phoenix is up.
9:36 – Nate the (new) Skate! To Phoenix! Which is awesome for the few minutes it lasts, until it’s revealed that he might end up in New York in the Quentin Richardson deal. But if Q is coming in as the starting 2, and Crawford is supposed to back up both spots, where does Nate fit in? At least he’s properly undersized. He’ll probably start at power forward.
9:42 – Denver with Jarrett Jack. He’ll have to be the backup point guard for a while, but the Nuggets get another strong ACC guy. And best yet, NO one from Duke has been picked yet. Not that it’s been expected, but it’s still nice to see a complete lack of Blue Devils. Sacto’s up. And incidentally, I feel like Danny Granger’s singing may have played a role in his dropping out of the lottery.
9:50 – The Kings take Francisco Garcia. Someone else who can help right away, and of course he’ll appeal to the huge Hispanic population in Sacramento. “Must Improve: Durability.” Um yeah, that’s simple, right? Just get some new bumpers.
9:55 – Luther Head to the Rockets. He’s going to get to play with two superstars? Yao Ming isn’t a superstar yet. And the Sonics, up next, are allegedly excited about Andrieuskivicius—don’t they already have Robert Swift and Nick Collison? And they technically don’t have a coach, either.
9:56 – DAMN YOU, COACH K. AND AMERICAN EXPRESS!!!!!
9:59 – The Sonics take Johan Petro and mess the whole thing up. A different international cat, but at least he might be sort of ready to go. Then again, he’s 19, too. Watching international highlights never gets old—love the trapezoidal lane. An out-of-the-crowder, at least Tony Parker’s got company. Trade proposal! Nuggets to send Jarrett Jack for the 27th pick and the 35th. Who cares? The Pistons are up next, and they should definitely take Andrieuskivicius to use as another bookend with Darko Milicic. That would also get rid of Larry Brown.
10:03 – I respect the money he’s making, but something about the Mos Def GMC commercial just seems really wrong. Can’t help but wonder what Talib Kweli thinks.
10:06 – Jason Maxiell? He’s an athlete, I suppose, but he’s kind of short for what he does. And where the heck is he going to play? Ruben Patterson 2005!
10:10 – Blazers! Linas Kleiza! He looks good in highlights, even though he played for that slimeball in Missouri. Spurs on the clock.
10:17 – The Spurs take Ian Mahinmi from France. He’s here, too. And he’s only played basketball for four years! He’s wearing all off-white, including the tie. And he probably won’t be back in the U.S. to play anytime soon. Only two more first rounders, thank God. Miami and the Knicks. This round seriously takes forever—can we cut the time between picks to four minutes?
10:20 – Mike Tirico annoys Sonic coach Nate McMillan. Big ups to Nate for brushing off the coaching/contractual questions. Just for that, I hope the Sonics re-up him.
10:23 – Miami takes Wayne Simien, who should definitely like playing with Shaq. And yep, Vitale is effervescent. Gotta love them seniors. Knicks are on the clock, and the crowd is on edge.
10:28 – The natives are restless. And the Knicks take David Lee, and the boos start. I don’t know—Lee seems like a good sort. Athletic, can shoot, got some size. He should be able to play the three, too—even though he’s taller than all their power forwards. Here endeth the first round.
Draft Mockery (2)
7:31 – More Lenny Kravitz. Maybe the NBA would feel better about 18-year olds if they actually recognized one or two of the songs they listen to. I guess it’s technically ESPN’s fault, but still.
7:32 – Heeeeeerre’s DAVID! Still have no idea what happens in that back room. Guess I’m not a true NBA fan since I’m not at the Draft. And wait—this STARTS the clock for Milwaukee? Haven’t they had a MONTH? Anything to stretch out the broadcast, I guess. Previous Bucks No. 1 picks—Lew Alcindor, Kent Benson, Glenn Robinson. And they don’t have a coach. Other than that, they’re in great shape.
7:36 – With the first pick of the 2005 NBA Draft, the Milwaukee Bucks select Andrew Bogut, from Australia and the University of Utah. What a surprise. Still can’t remember who the last center picked at No. 1 to be an absolute success was. Yao Ming, I guess, although even he’s underachieved somewhat. It’s not like anyone without LeaguePass is going to see a single Bucks game next year anyway.
7:38 – The Hawks are on the clock. Ha ha. Guess they should take Marv, although then they’d need to trade some peoples. Also, they should let Bogut’s dad handle the second rounders. He sounds way cooler than Russ Granik. And now, for some overanalysis and explanation. I’ll be shocked if I can handle the entire Draft on TV.
7:42 – The Hawks take Marvin. For his sake, I hope they trade him. He’s too old to be part of a Hawks rebuilding process. (Good camera work on Roy Williams, peoples.) I just wish ol’ Roy repeated what he said to Bonnie Bernstein. Bilas – “Marvin Williams is the real deal and the complete package.” Hawks PR peoples, take note. “He’s been well-coached to this point, and he’ll be well-coached in the future.” Followed by a ringing endorsement of Mike Woodson! Holla!
7:45 – Um, Mr. Vitale, I don’t think you take Chris Paul 2nd. Maybe you trade for him and get even more. Wait, Marvin’s favorite TV show is “The Fresh Prince of Bel Air”? Come on, Marv. And Atlanta hasn’t drafted an All-Star in 20-plus years? Yeesh. Good luck.
7:47 – The Jazz take Deron Williams. Stephen A. went on that they had to take Chris Paul because he’s “spectacular,” but hey—John Stockton wasn’t exactly spectacular, and he worked out just fine. Deron’s a beast, and he’ll be great with Andrei Kirilenko and co. Probably set some mean screens, too. Jerry Sloan should be happy, even if Stephen A. isn’t.
7:52 – Good God. Video games are getting completely out of control. If they want to make the NBA games any more official they’ll need to combine one of them with Grand Theft Auto and that Dub game.
7:53 – The New Orleans Hornets select Chris Paul. Makes sense I guess, after they traded Baron. Gee, too bad they’re still not in Charlotte. I still can’t wait for the first high schooler to go so we can get the requisite “stay in school” histrionics from Vitale and Bilas. “He will be the Mayor of New Orleans, trust me.” Um, Dick, NO one even GOES to NBA games in New Orleans.
7:55 – Who has to switch the lettering on the “NOW PLAYING” sign?
7:57 – Charlotte on the clock. Raymond Felton maybe? They DO need a point guard. Yep, they do. Kind of crazy that he goes before Sean May on some level, and this probably already blows up a few mock drafts. At least I hope it does. Where the international cats at, C. Fizzle?
8:00 – For once, I agree wholeheartedly with Stephen A. Smith. I’m waiting for the apocalypse, which should be arriving shortly.
8:01 – Raymond Felton writes poetry in his spare time. Good to know. At the table with Stu Scott, he reads from “Leaves of Clichés.” The Blazers are on the clock—who’s out there that’s done time?
8:06 – High school! The Blazers take Martell Webster, a local to the Pacific Northwest (Seattle). Another one that makes a mockery of mocks. And I believe he’s the first to be wearing a suit with hidden buttons. Go, Martell! With him, Bassy and Outlaw, they should be good for a while. Maybe. Although it might take them a while to get there. And Jay Bilas is COMPLIMENTARY? Wow.
8:08 – I agree with Stephen A. again. I need an Advil. Or a beer. Toronto’s on the clock. Jeez. What DON’T they need? And there we go, Vitale pushing strength and maturity of a college kid. Like the Blazers aren’t going to have a coach all season? Like you’re all that much mature at 20 than you are at 18? And oh my, WHAT is his grandmother wearing on her head? And John Nash looks like he hasn’t slept since 1978.
8:09 – The Raptors take Charlie Villanueva! Well, this makes it somewhat interesting for the Knicks—there are guys on the board they probably haven’t considered. Like Sean May, the ultimate undersized power forward. Danny Granger, too. Maybe Gerald Green? Anyway, this pick basically solidifies the fact that Toronto has no idea what they’re doing—and the entire ESPN crew jumps on it. The Raptors are such a mess. It’s amazing to believe that Villanueva went this high.
8:18 – The Knicks (to lots of yelling) take Channing Frye. Mixed reaction from the crowd. You kind of have to wonder, did they even work out guys like Granger and Green? Frye’s a skinny dude, 6-11—okay, 6-10.5—and is he strong enough to man the middle in New York? Arizona guards have been great, but the centers? Don’t be another Loren Woods, kid. The Warriors are on the clock, and they need some post work as well. Sean May would be kind of dope here.
8:25 – The Warriors take Ike Diogu—who wasn’t even invited! Way to go, NBA. He’ll work in Golden State. Still hard to believe some of the guys who haven’t been picked, and the Lakers (up next) are supposedly into Green. More importantly though, dinner just showed up. Big up, Live Bait! (And shut up, Coach K!)
8:29 – Jim Gray is reporting from L.A.? No way! And it is weird to see the Lakers picking this high. And Andrew Bynum goes before Gerald Green! Not to mention Danny Granger. Vitale and Bilas are probably going to have coronaries, but they do need a center since they traded what’s his name. And he’s the youngest player ever picked? I’m really not all that sure how much I get this one if the Lakers want to be back in the playoffs next year. You get the feeling that they sent Phil Jackson back to Montana for the Draft so he wouldn’t kill someone. Hope you like the money, Phil.
8:36 – Orlando on the clock, with Gerald Green already compared to a young Tracy McGrady. Does that make them take him or not? (Hold on.) Apparently not. Fran Vasquez becomes the first non-NCAA international selection. Skinny 6-10 dude. And obviously some people who expected to be in the Lottery aren’t going to be. Couldn’t tell you naything about Fran Vasquez—and it’s hard to believe anyone else can say much either, seeing that he played by international rules against international players. He apparently doesn’t speak much English, either, which is terrific. And his translator is a cross between Manolo from Scarface and one of the dudes from Star Trek. The Clippers are on the clock.
8:44 – The Clippers take Yaroslav Korolev. What a country! I’m not sure how to react to this. Does he help the Clippers? Can anyone really help the Clippers? I do love Russian highlights, though. Bobcats are on the clock again. And Dick Vitale is quickly establishing Sean May as this year’s Jameer Nelson. He’s even supporting Gerald Green!
8:49 – The Bobcats take Sean May. Killer. Gotta love him and Felton winding up on the same team with Okafor. This is the route that worked for the Bulls—picking high-profile players from high-profile college teams. I think May’s going to be terrific, and this is a great spot for him. The Timberwolves are on the clock, last team in the Lottery, with a couple high-lottery-level guys available. I’m guessing Granger.
8:55 – And the Wolves take McCants! All Carolina guys in the Lottery. Not bad—and good-bye, Spree.
7:32 – Heeeeeerre’s DAVID! Still have no idea what happens in that back room. Guess I’m not a true NBA fan since I’m not at the Draft. And wait—this STARTS the clock for Milwaukee? Haven’t they had a MONTH? Anything to stretch out the broadcast, I guess. Previous Bucks No. 1 picks—Lew Alcindor, Kent Benson, Glenn Robinson. And they don’t have a coach. Other than that, they’re in great shape.
7:36 – With the first pick of the 2005 NBA Draft, the Milwaukee Bucks select Andrew Bogut, from Australia and the University of Utah. What a surprise. Still can’t remember who the last center picked at No. 1 to be an absolute success was. Yao Ming, I guess, although even he’s underachieved somewhat. It’s not like anyone without LeaguePass is going to see a single Bucks game next year anyway.
7:38 – The Hawks are on the clock. Ha ha. Guess they should take Marv, although then they’d need to trade some peoples. Also, they should let Bogut’s dad handle the second rounders. He sounds way cooler than Russ Granik. And now, for some overanalysis and explanation. I’ll be shocked if I can handle the entire Draft on TV.
7:42 – The Hawks take Marvin. For his sake, I hope they trade him. He’s too old to be part of a Hawks rebuilding process. (Good camera work on Roy Williams, peoples.) I just wish ol’ Roy repeated what he said to Bonnie Bernstein. Bilas – “Marvin Williams is the real deal and the complete package.” Hawks PR peoples, take note. “He’s been well-coached to this point, and he’ll be well-coached in the future.” Followed by a ringing endorsement of Mike Woodson! Holla!
7:45 – Um, Mr. Vitale, I don’t think you take Chris Paul 2nd. Maybe you trade for him and get even more. Wait, Marvin’s favorite TV show is “The Fresh Prince of Bel Air”? Come on, Marv. And Atlanta hasn’t drafted an All-Star in 20-plus years? Yeesh. Good luck.
7:47 – The Jazz take Deron Williams. Stephen A. went on that they had to take Chris Paul because he’s “spectacular,” but hey—John Stockton wasn’t exactly spectacular, and he worked out just fine. Deron’s a beast, and he’ll be great with Andrei Kirilenko and co. Probably set some mean screens, too. Jerry Sloan should be happy, even if Stephen A. isn’t.
7:52 – Good God. Video games are getting completely out of control. If they want to make the NBA games any more official they’ll need to combine one of them with Grand Theft Auto and that Dub game.
7:53 – The New Orleans Hornets select Chris Paul. Makes sense I guess, after they traded Baron. Gee, too bad they’re still not in Charlotte. I still can’t wait for the first high schooler to go so we can get the requisite “stay in school” histrionics from Vitale and Bilas. “He will be the Mayor of New Orleans, trust me.” Um, Dick, NO one even GOES to NBA games in New Orleans.
7:55 – Who has to switch the lettering on the “NOW PLAYING” sign?
7:57 – Charlotte on the clock. Raymond Felton maybe? They DO need a point guard. Yep, they do. Kind of crazy that he goes before Sean May on some level, and this probably already blows up a few mock drafts. At least I hope it does. Where the international cats at, C. Fizzle?
8:00 – For once, I agree wholeheartedly with Stephen A. Smith. I’m waiting for the apocalypse, which should be arriving shortly.
8:01 – Raymond Felton writes poetry in his spare time. Good to know. At the table with Stu Scott, he reads from “Leaves of Clichés.” The Blazers are on the clock—who’s out there that’s done time?
8:06 – High school! The Blazers take Martell Webster, a local to the Pacific Northwest (Seattle). Another one that makes a mockery of mocks. And I believe he’s the first to be wearing a suit with hidden buttons. Go, Martell! With him, Bassy and Outlaw, they should be good for a while. Maybe. Although it might take them a while to get there. And Jay Bilas is COMPLIMENTARY? Wow.
8:08 – I agree with Stephen A. again. I need an Advil. Or a beer. Toronto’s on the clock. Jeez. What DON’T they need? And there we go, Vitale pushing strength and maturity of a college kid. Like the Blazers aren’t going to have a coach all season? Like you’re all that much mature at 20 than you are at 18? And oh my, WHAT is his grandmother wearing on her head? And John Nash looks like he hasn’t slept since 1978.
8:09 – The Raptors take Charlie Villanueva! Well, this makes it somewhat interesting for the Knicks—there are guys on the board they probably haven’t considered. Like Sean May, the ultimate undersized power forward. Danny Granger, too. Maybe Gerald Green? Anyway, this pick basically solidifies the fact that Toronto has no idea what they’re doing—and the entire ESPN crew jumps on it. The Raptors are such a mess. It’s amazing to believe that Villanueva went this high.
8:18 – The Knicks (to lots of yelling) take Channing Frye. Mixed reaction from the crowd. You kind of have to wonder, did they even work out guys like Granger and Green? Frye’s a skinny dude, 6-11—okay, 6-10.5—and is he strong enough to man the middle in New York? Arizona guards have been great, but the centers? Don’t be another Loren Woods, kid. The Warriors are on the clock, and they need some post work as well. Sean May would be kind of dope here.
8:25 – The Warriors take Ike Diogu—who wasn’t even invited! Way to go, NBA. He’ll work in Golden State. Still hard to believe some of the guys who haven’t been picked, and the Lakers (up next) are supposedly into Green. More importantly though, dinner just showed up. Big up, Live Bait! (And shut up, Coach K!)
8:29 – Jim Gray is reporting from L.A.? No way! And it is weird to see the Lakers picking this high. And Andrew Bynum goes before Gerald Green! Not to mention Danny Granger. Vitale and Bilas are probably going to have coronaries, but they do need a center since they traded what’s his name. And he’s the youngest player ever picked? I’m really not all that sure how much I get this one if the Lakers want to be back in the playoffs next year. You get the feeling that they sent Phil Jackson back to Montana for the Draft so he wouldn’t kill someone. Hope you like the money, Phil.
8:36 – Orlando on the clock, with Gerald Green already compared to a young Tracy McGrady. Does that make them take him or not? (Hold on.) Apparently not. Fran Vasquez becomes the first non-NCAA international selection. Skinny 6-10 dude. And obviously some people who expected to be in the Lottery aren’t going to be. Couldn’t tell you naything about Fran Vasquez—and it’s hard to believe anyone else can say much either, seeing that he played by international rules against international players. He apparently doesn’t speak much English, either, which is terrific. And his translator is a cross between Manolo from Scarface and one of the dudes from Star Trek. The Clippers are on the clock.
8:44 – The Clippers take Yaroslav Korolev. What a country! I’m not sure how to react to this. Does he help the Clippers? Can anyone really help the Clippers? I do love Russian highlights, though. Bobcats are on the clock again. And Dick Vitale is quickly establishing Sean May as this year’s Jameer Nelson. He’s even supporting Gerald Green!
8:49 – The Bobcats take Sean May. Killer. Gotta love him and Felton winding up on the same team with Okafor. This is the route that worked for the Bulls—picking high-profile players from high-profile college teams. I think May’s going to be terrific, and this is a great spot for him. The Timberwolves are on the clock, last team in the Lottery, with a couple high-lottery-level guys available. I’m guessing Granger.
8:55 – And the Wolves take McCants! All Carolina guys in the Lottery. Not bad—and good-bye, Spree.
Tuesday, June 28, 2005
Draft Mockery (1)
So, it's going to start soon. I've got multiple windows open in Safari--this space, ESPN.com and NBA.com. The Bucks are technically on the clock, I guess, so sooner or later we'll find out whether they take Andrew Bogut or Marvin Williams. Then the Hawks can draft some guy no one’s ever heard of—or at least be sure that the blue-chip prospect they do take falls off faster than WorldCom.
It’s hard to believe this will be the last draft with high schoolers for a while. Considering that many of the best players in the League today skipped college, what’s the problem? And don’t even bring up Korleone Young and Kwame Brown or whoever. First off, you don’t need to become an All-Star to be a success. Money isn’t everything, sure, but first-round guaranteed NBA money is nothing to scoff at, even if it’s the only contract you ever sign. And kids fail sometimes? Of course! The NBA is hard. And the draft is a crapshoot. There’s no guarantee that everyone makes it. People with years of college under their belt are busts, too. And just because they went to college doesn’t mean they got an education (what’s Cincinnati’s graduation rate again?). Anyways, Gerald and co., enjoy the moment.
I’d make predictions, but the hell with it. I can’t even figure who the Bucks are gonna take, let alone the Knicks (Channing Frye).
I will say this—the Draft moving from TNT to ESPN is the worst thing ever. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING beat Charles Barkley at the Draft. Guarantee I hit the “mute” button at least once tonight.
7:00 – The NBA Draft preview show! So, we’ll see highlights of players that we’ll see even more highlights of when they get picked. The brief glimpse accorded doesn’t show any properly horrendous suits, but it DOES feature Lenny Kravitz’s timeless “Are You Gonna Go My Way?” And Luke Schenscher! Aw hell, all the suits are beige, taupe, charcoal—damn subtle earth tones. At least one person should HAVE to wear something bright every year.
7:03 – Jay Bilas speaks for the first time. Predicts Bogut No. 1. I’ve pretty much always not been able to stand Bilas, but have hated him more than ever since he dogged Josh Smith last year as he left the podium.
7:05 – Andy Katz says the Bucks will draft Bogut. I really, really hope they take Marvin. I assume they won’t, though. Bilas predicts him as a 10-year-plus All-Star player. God, I hope he sucks. Nothing against Bogut, Australia or Rick Majerus. I’m not saying he’ll be Todd Fuller or anything, but will he be David Robinson or Patrick Ewing?
7:07 – Stephen A! You’re why I’ll be going to mute soon enough, pal.
7:09 – Mark Jones with Andrew Bogut BEFORE the pick! Pre-analysis, anyone? And yeah, nice hair, Andy. Good accent, though.
7:10 – Bucher! They’ve got all the reporters out today.
7:14 – Stephen A. Smith needs a volume control…
7:15 – …and Chris Paul needs to unbutton his suit jacket.
7:15 – Stuart Scott with Deron Williams! He should be wearing a sleeveless suit to show off his tats. “Some of your critics said you’re unathletic.” Uh-huh, and I’m sure his critics could have run the point in the national championship game.
7:17 – It’s candid Raymond Felton! With all three of his Carolina green room teammates! And there hasn’t even been a pick yet! This Draft is WAY overcovered. Already. And I’ve been to the last couple of them—this one just seems worse. Maybe because I’m not there.
7:19 – Please, please, PLEASE, someone stop the Coach K. commercials. Didn’t the Pistons lose this year anyway? THEY’RE NOT CHAMPIONS ANYMORE.
It’s hard to believe this will be the last draft with high schoolers for a while. Considering that many of the best players in the League today skipped college, what’s the problem? And don’t even bring up Korleone Young and Kwame Brown or whoever. First off, you don’t need to become an All-Star to be a success. Money isn’t everything, sure, but first-round guaranteed NBA money is nothing to scoff at, even if it’s the only contract you ever sign. And kids fail sometimes? Of course! The NBA is hard. And the draft is a crapshoot. There’s no guarantee that everyone makes it. People with years of college under their belt are busts, too. And just because they went to college doesn’t mean they got an education (what’s Cincinnati’s graduation rate again?). Anyways, Gerald and co., enjoy the moment.
I’d make predictions, but the hell with it. I can’t even figure who the Bucks are gonna take, let alone the Knicks (Channing Frye).
I will say this—the Draft moving from TNT to ESPN is the worst thing ever. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING beat Charles Barkley at the Draft. Guarantee I hit the “mute” button at least once tonight.
7:00 – The NBA Draft preview show! So, we’ll see highlights of players that we’ll see even more highlights of when they get picked. The brief glimpse accorded doesn’t show any properly horrendous suits, but it DOES feature Lenny Kravitz’s timeless “Are You Gonna Go My Way?” And Luke Schenscher! Aw hell, all the suits are beige, taupe, charcoal—damn subtle earth tones. At least one person should HAVE to wear something bright every year.
7:03 – Jay Bilas speaks for the first time. Predicts Bogut No. 1. I’ve pretty much always not been able to stand Bilas, but have hated him more than ever since he dogged Josh Smith last year as he left the podium.
7:05 – Andy Katz says the Bucks will draft Bogut. I really, really hope they take Marvin. I assume they won’t, though. Bilas predicts him as a 10-year-plus All-Star player. God, I hope he sucks. Nothing against Bogut, Australia or Rick Majerus. I’m not saying he’ll be Todd Fuller or anything, but will he be David Robinson or Patrick Ewing?
7:07 – Stephen A! You’re why I’ll be going to mute soon enough, pal.
7:09 – Mark Jones with Andrew Bogut BEFORE the pick! Pre-analysis, anyone? And yeah, nice hair, Andy. Good accent, though.
7:10 – Bucher! They’ve got all the reporters out today.
7:14 – Stephen A. Smith needs a volume control…
7:15 – …and Chris Paul needs to unbutton his suit jacket.
7:15 – Stuart Scott with Deron Williams! He should be wearing a sleeveless suit to show off his tats. “Some of your critics said you’re unathletic.” Uh-huh, and I’m sure his critics could have run the point in the national championship game.
7:17 – It’s candid Raymond Felton! With all three of his Carolina green room teammates! And there hasn’t even been a pick yet! This Draft is WAY overcovered. Already. And I’ve been to the last couple of them—this one just seems worse. Maybe because I’m not there.
7:19 – Please, please, PLEASE, someone stop the Coach K. commercials. Didn’t the Pistons lose this year anyway? THEY’RE NOT CHAMPIONS ANYMORE.
Pre-draft
The Spurs won the NBA Championship, in case you missed it.
My aunt passed away on Friday, so I haven't had all that much time to update--and I thought I'd be at the Draft tonight, which would have meant an even longer gap. However, due to some vague miscommunication, I don't have a credential. So instead, I'll sit here on my couch in the AC and keep a running diary of the whole damn thing (apologies to Bill Simmons).
My aunt passed away on Friday, so I haven't had all that much time to update--and I thought I'd be at the Draft tonight, which would have meant an even longer gap. However, due to some vague miscommunication, I don't have a credential. So instead, I'll sit here on my couch in the AC and keep a running diary of the whole damn thing (apologies to Bill Simmons).
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
What About Bob?
Well, I was right for once--the Pistons stomped the Spurs again in Game Four. And technically I was right in my prediction for Game Five as well, even though I didn't post it. I didn't really have much of a handle on who was going to win, but figured it was going to be a dogfight. The Pistons needed to win Game Five to have a chance in the series, and the Spurs needed to win to lock it up (and get some momentum going back home). And while Tim Duncan's numbers didn't truly reflect his subpar game, Robert Horry--who's become an NBA big-moment Zelig--was there to save the day.
Not that I saw it. Sunday being Father's Day--and the day my younger sister, her husband, and their two-year-old son were due in town from Illinois--I made the hour and a half train ride out to Eastern Long Island for the day. It was quite the All-American day--beer, barbecue and baseball, followed by the NBA nightcap. Thanks to the 9-whatever tipoff, I ended up leaving during the third quarter, with the Spurs seemingly in control. Of course, they weren't, and roughly halfway back to the City I received a text message from one of my usual watching companions stating "Overtime?" I, of course, had no idea what was going on. This is when I realized the AM/FM radio iPod attachment would probably be a decent investment.
So yeah, the best game of the Finals thus far, and I missed the key parts of it. Of course tomorrow will be just another blowout, followed by a lockout, and the next time I see an exciting NBA game will be in six months. (Actually, I think tomorrow's game will be close, and if there is a lockout, it won't last very long.) Will we see a Game Seven? I doubt it. At this point the Spurs just want to get this over with. They dodged a bullet last night and they know it.
The more interesting question right now is this: Assuming the Spurs do finish the Pistons tomorrow night, who gets MVP? Manu Ginobili had those great games 1 and 2, but hasn't really done all that much the rest of the way. Duncan? Nah. Tony Parker? Probably not. Right now, why not Horry? Has anyone won the Finals MVP for their performance in one game? For that matter, one HALF of one game? And if not, why not now?
Not that I saw it. Sunday being Father's Day--and the day my younger sister, her husband, and their two-year-old son were due in town from Illinois--I made the hour and a half train ride out to Eastern Long Island for the day. It was quite the All-American day--beer, barbecue and baseball, followed by the NBA nightcap. Thanks to the 9-whatever tipoff, I ended up leaving during the third quarter, with the Spurs seemingly in control. Of course, they weren't, and roughly halfway back to the City I received a text message from one of my usual watching companions stating "Overtime?" I, of course, had no idea what was going on. This is when I realized the AM/FM radio iPod attachment would probably be a decent investment.
So yeah, the best game of the Finals thus far, and I missed the key parts of it. Of course tomorrow will be just another blowout, followed by a lockout, and the next time I see an exciting NBA game will be in six months. (Actually, I think tomorrow's game will be close, and if there is a lockout, it won't last very long.) Will we see a Game Seven? I doubt it. At this point the Spurs just want to get this over with. They dodged a bullet last night and they know it.
The more interesting question right now is this: Assuming the Spurs do finish the Pistons tomorrow night, who gets MVP? Manu Ginobili had those great games 1 and 2, but hasn't really done all that much the rest of the way. Duncan? Nah. Tony Parker? Probably not. Right now, why not Horry? Has anyone won the Finals MVP for their performance in one game? For that matter, one HALF of one game? And if not, why not now?
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Pist off.
OK, so maybe I was wrong. Like, REALLY wrong. Even if Manu Ginobili hadn't been hobbled like Paul Sheldon in the first 24 seconds of Game Three, the Pistons had it locked up from the opening tip. Rather, from the Ben Wallace breakaway dunk with Nazr Mohammed holding his off hand like he was a school crossing guard. The Pistons came out with serious energy and confidence, and if they do that again tonight, well--this might be a close series after all. If they lose, of course, it's a wrap anyway. But I think we're going into Game Five tied up. (Not that what I think means anything.)
We still got Florida weather in Manhattan--steamy days with thunderstorms in the afternoon. A mess, in other words. It has cooled off of late, though, so at least it's not the blast furnace it was earlier in the week. I actually have the AC off at the moment with the windows open. Rolling out soon to watch the game at the usual spot, with the 'Sheed Portland '77 throwback that worked last game. We'll see.
We still got Florida weather in Manhattan--steamy days with thunderstorms in the afternoon. A mess, in other words. It has cooled off of late, though, so at least it's not the blast furnace it was earlier in the week. I actually have the AC off at the moment with the windows open. Rolling out soon to watch the game at the usual spot, with the 'Sheed Portland '77 throwback that worked last game. We'll see.
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Hot Spurs.
Yes, that's an intentional Tottenham reference. If nothing else, they're the favorite team of the reigning NBA MVP, and that's good enough for me. Then again, I'm an Arsenal supporter and the Hotspur wear skin-tight kit, so Steve Nash will have to root alone.
Well, it's starting to look like the NBA Finals might not last very long after all. So much for the close matchup. It's not just that the Spurs won the first two games--it's that they won them both by considerable margins, exploiting the vaunted Detroit defense and making an absolute mess of the Pistons' already questionable offense. Manu Ginobili looks like an MVP, and the Pistons don't look much like the defending champions. When the biggest offensive spurts are coming from Antonio McDyess, well...that's not a team that's going to be able to make a comeback. Tonight is the ultimate test. Win or stay home. I think the Pistons definitely make a better showing tonight, but the Spurs have momentum and confidence on their side. The best we might be able to hope for is a lot of Darko in a somewhat meaningless Game Four.
**
Not for nothing, but I've never really understood why NBA teams (and teams in every other sport, for that matter) sign a coach for X number of seasons, then fire them after their first, however disappointing. Yes, to succeed a team needs to win games and fill the seats. But one would hope that a coach would be hired for his methods and his philosophy, not to fill some arbitrary win quota. And one would also hope that a franchise would allow time for a new coach to implement his methods and philosophy, not just bail on him as soon as the record (and the local media) demanded it. Of course there will always be bad hires. But maybe some just need more time.
One that strangely enough is getting a second run is Phil Jackson in Los Angeles, as reported earlier today. It's some Hollyweirdness on par with the antics of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes (Katie! Get out while you still can!). I'd give a good chunk of change to be present at that first Laker team meeting this summer. Will Kobe apologize to Phil? Will Phil apologize to Kobe? Will Phil and LO toke up in the trainer's room? And of course most importantly, will the triangle work without Shaq?
Tell you what, I'd like to see Phil bring in Kareem and Magic as assistants--not only to share their accumulated Showtime wisdom, but for Magic to counsel Kobe on a more regular basis. Getting him out of the TNT booth will be a bonus--the unintentional comedy just isn't worth it anymore. Despite Kobe's presence, this will easily be the worst team Jackson has ever coached in the NBA. And other teams won't be in a rush to help them through trades. It'll be interesting to see how all involved handle this. I just hope that midway through the season Jeannie Buss dumps Phil for Mike Dunleavy.
**
Still hotter than blazes in New York City--which is why I'm sitting home watching Top Gun. (How the heck would Tim Robbins fit in a fighter jet anyway?) It's about to end, though, so I'll probably go out for a quick road ride before recovering for the game tonight.
Well, it's starting to look like the NBA Finals might not last very long after all. So much for the close matchup. It's not just that the Spurs won the first two games--it's that they won them both by considerable margins, exploiting the vaunted Detroit defense and making an absolute mess of the Pistons' already questionable offense. Manu Ginobili looks like an MVP, and the Pistons don't look much like the defending champions. When the biggest offensive spurts are coming from Antonio McDyess, well...that's not a team that's going to be able to make a comeback. Tonight is the ultimate test. Win or stay home. I think the Pistons definitely make a better showing tonight, but the Spurs have momentum and confidence on their side. The best we might be able to hope for is a lot of Darko in a somewhat meaningless Game Four.
**
Not for nothing, but I've never really understood why NBA teams (and teams in every other sport, for that matter) sign a coach for X number of seasons, then fire them after their first, however disappointing. Yes, to succeed a team needs to win games and fill the seats. But one would hope that a coach would be hired for his methods and his philosophy, not to fill some arbitrary win quota. And one would also hope that a franchise would allow time for a new coach to implement his methods and philosophy, not just bail on him as soon as the record (and the local media) demanded it. Of course there will always be bad hires. But maybe some just need more time.
One that strangely enough is getting a second run is Phil Jackson in Los Angeles, as reported earlier today. It's some Hollyweirdness on par with the antics of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes (Katie! Get out while you still can!). I'd give a good chunk of change to be present at that first Laker team meeting this summer. Will Kobe apologize to Phil? Will Phil apologize to Kobe? Will Phil and LO toke up in the trainer's room? And of course most importantly, will the triangle work without Shaq?
Tell you what, I'd like to see Phil bring in Kareem and Magic as assistants--not only to share their accumulated Showtime wisdom, but for Magic to counsel Kobe on a more regular basis. Getting him out of the TNT booth will be a bonus--the unintentional comedy just isn't worth it anymore. Despite Kobe's presence, this will easily be the worst team Jackson has ever coached in the NBA. And other teams won't be in a rush to help them through trades. It'll be interesting to see how all involved handle this. I just hope that midway through the season Jeannie Buss dumps Phil for Mike Dunleavy.
**
Still hotter than blazes in New York City--which is why I'm sitting home watching Top Gun. (How the heck would Tim Robbins fit in a fighter jet anyway?) It's about to end, though, so I'll probably go out for a quick road ride before recovering for the game tonight.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Must-win.
At some point tonight, someone (probably Bill Walton) will declare that Game Two is a "must-win" game for Detroit. And while that may be correct (it's hard to imagine anyone taking four of five against the Spurs), it's still infuriating. Why? Because if the Spurs DO win tonight, they've just done what they were supposed to. Win at home. And if the Pistons defend their home court, they come back to San Antonio needing to only win one of two. So the whole "must win" thing is a bit of an overstatement.
How much does ABC miss Marv Albert? I've been following the playoffs at a bar downtown, so I'm just reading the closed captions, but Bill Walton STILL sucks. I wonder if Marv even watches the Finals, or if it's just too depressing. I can just picture him in his crib, downstairs in front of a 65" plasma, sound off, doing the games by himself, or maybe with the Czar and Steve Kerr on speakerphone. I would totally pay for an alternate commentary channel to be able to hear that.
Still hotter'n all hell in New York, complete with the humidity of death and near-daily afternoon thunderstorms. I knew Manhattan was an island, but I wasn't aware that it was a tropical one. And after much procrastination and general laziness, I finally put my air conditioner in today. I think I'll just leave it in this winter, cover it up or something. Because by not putting it in until now, I probably haven't had a good night's sleep in over a week. Oh well.
Tonight should be good, though--cool apartment, and I blew the dust off my vintage Slim Chance road bike by riding the westside path from Prince Street all the way up to 125th and then back home. Probably 12 miles or so. Maybe more. Nice ride, made better by the fact that the sun was going down. Lots of people out, breeze coming off the water, no rain. I've also been pondering pitching something--anything--to one or more of the bike magazines out there. I ride basically everything, and I've obviously been published before. It would be good to get away from ball for a while and write about track bikes or downhill or BMX or anything. Got a few ideas I'm kicking around.
But for now I need to grab a much-needed shower and head back downtown to catch the game. I think San Antonio holds serve tonight--that first-quarter stumble in Game One is what will be on their minds as they take the floor, not the fact that they wound up winning the game. They'll come out strong, and Detroit will be hard-pressed to keep up. The thing is, San Antonio can win defensive battles OR shoot outs, and Detroit isn't strong enough offensively to compete when the pace picks up. (They're probably better offensively than people give them credit for, but they're not as good as San Antonio.) Staying with San Antonio in six, waiting to celebrate back home.
Google: Chris Chance
How much does ABC miss Marv Albert? I've been following the playoffs at a bar downtown, so I'm just reading the closed captions, but Bill Walton STILL sucks. I wonder if Marv even watches the Finals, or if it's just too depressing. I can just picture him in his crib, downstairs in front of a 65" plasma, sound off, doing the games by himself, or maybe with the Czar and Steve Kerr on speakerphone. I would totally pay for an alternate commentary channel to be able to hear that.
Still hotter'n all hell in New York, complete with the humidity of death and near-daily afternoon thunderstorms. I knew Manhattan was an island, but I wasn't aware that it was a tropical one. And after much procrastination and general laziness, I finally put my air conditioner in today. I think I'll just leave it in this winter, cover it up or something. Because by not putting it in until now, I probably haven't had a good night's sleep in over a week. Oh well.
Tonight should be good, though--cool apartment, and I blew the dust off my vintage Slim Chance road bike by riding the westside path from Prince Street all the way up to 125th and then back home. Probably 12 miles or so. Maybe more. Nice ride, made better by the fact that the sun was going down. Lots of people out, breeze coming off the water, no rain. I've also been pondering pitching something--anything--to one or more of the bike magazines out there. I ride basically everything, and I've obviously been published before. It would be good to get away from ball for a while and write about track bikes or downhill or BMX or anything. Got a few ideas I'm kicking around.
But for now I need to grab a much-needed shower and head back downtown to catch the game. I think San Antonio holds serve tonight--that first-quarter stumble in Game One is what will be on their minds as they take the floor, not the fact that they wound up winning the game. They'll come out strong, and Detroit will be hard-pressed to keep up. The thing is, San Antonio can win defensive battles OR shoot outs, and Detroit isn't strong enough offensively to compete when the pace picks up. (They're probably better offensively than people give them credit for, but they're not as good as San Antonio.) Staying with San Antonio in six, waiting to celebrate back home.
Google: Chris Chance
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Linkstigating.
It's funny--my main man Lang Whitaker over at SLAMonline.com linked to me (again--big ups!) on Monday lookin' to start some sort of Hatfield and McCoy business. Which ain't such a terrible idea, despite his couple-year head start with the writing every day thing. (Harder than it looks, no doubt--I'm gonna need to start snorting Adderall just to try and stay on track once in my life.) And perhaps we could do dueling running diaries of one of the Finals games, just for the heck of it. At the very least, I'm sure we'll both post extensive notes on our respective sites following the Draft.
But reading his running commentary from Game Seven of the Heat/Pistons series brought to mind a moment late in the fourth quarter that he surprisingly DIDN'T mention. It was Pistons ball, and Udonis Haslem sagged off Rasheed Wallace to double someone in the post. Sheed stepped behind the three-point line, caught a pass, and wetted the shot. As he backpedaled upcourt, you could clearly see him yelling "YOU DON'T WANNA LEAVE ME!*" He said it twice, loud as can be. And that's why we all love Sheed.
Lang shared more of his thoughts on Sheed in his Monday column for SI.com, and he's had more interaction with him than I have. Sheed remains an enigma wrapped in a headband. But if I had to pick a favorite NBA player, damn, he's right there.
* The actual words may be slightly inaccurate, owing to human (my) error, but the sentiment is correct.
Google: Thelonious Monk
But reading his running commentary from Game Seven of the Heat/Pistons series brought to mind a moment late in the fourth quarter that he surprisingly DIDN'T mention. It was Pistons ball, and Udonis Haslem sagged off Rasheed Wallace to double someone in the post. Sheed stepped behind the three-point line, caught a pass, and wetted the shot. As he backpedaled upcourt, you could clearly see him yelling "YOU DON'T WANNA LEAVE ME!*" He said it twice, loud as can be. And that's why we all love Sheed.
Lang shared more of his thoughts on Sheed in his Monday column for SI.com, and he's had more interaction with him than I have. Sheed remains an enigma wrapped in a headband. But if I had to pick a favorite NBA player, damn, he's right there.
* The actual words may be slightly inaccurate, owing to human (my) error, but the sentiment is correct.
Google: Thelonious Monk
Finals thoughts.
Another humid 90 degree day in NYC. I feel like we've gone from April directly to August. Again. Spring is just the windy, rainy time before it gets ungodly hot. Stupid weather. I was actually tempted to take the laptop to Starbucks today for the air conditioning alone (I still haven't put mine in), but was too lazy to do even that. Instead I'm home watching Hellboy. Quality.
Rather than actually preview the Finals, which pretty much every other pundit under the sun has already done (in 3,000 words or more), I figured I'd just give 10 reasons each why I'd like to see either team win. Oh yeah, Spurs in 5.
WHY I'D LIKE TO SEE SAN ANTONIO WIN:
1. It'll pretty much end the "greatest power forward of all time" debate. Tim Duncan might already be able to claim the title, seeing that he already has two to Charles Barkley and Karl Malone's combined zero. His third in eight years, together with his sublimely efficient game would basically lock it up. And he's not even 30!
2. Gregg Popovich is the NBA's coolest coach. The one-time Air Force man has the drollest sense of humor of anyone walking the sidelines today. Win or lose he's good, but considering that his opponent is the world's greatest opportunist, I'm going with Pop.
3. Bob Horry gets another ring. This would be his sixth (with three different teams) tying him with Scottie Pippen and Michael Jordan. Sure, he's somewhat of a mercenary, and he's had the good fortune to play with Hakeem, Shaq AND Duncan in their primes. But yeah, it's probably been worth it. And despite all of his high-profile teammates, he's done far more than just tag along for the ride.
4. Charles Barkley will get to yell GINO-BILI more. Sure, he won't be on TV when he does it, but we'll all know it anyway.
5. Make Larry Brown leave town after coming up short. Good luck, LeBron!
6. Save Detroit money on street signs. What would it be next? Four Championship Way?
7. May offense triumph over defense. Of course the Spurs can defend as well (see: Bowen, Bruce), but after the way they ran with the Suns, that's the style I want to see end up with the trophy.
8. Eva Longoria celebrating on the court.
9. Because Larry Brown's a scumbag.
10. Because my Mom is a Spurs fan. It's mostly because of Steve Kerr, but she's stayed true. Now she's the one calling me about games.
WHY I'D LIKE TO SEE DETROIT WIN:
1. Rasheed Wallace. I might need to cop that 36 jersey soon regardless. He's gotta do something about that mangy-looking beard, though. Well, if he wants. I ain't telling 'Sheed what to do.
2. Because Darko Milicic would have two rings while Barkley, Malone, Patrick Ewing, Kevin Garnett, Allen Iverson and Gary Payton have a combined zero. And LeBron hasn't made the playoffs yet.
3. Because Joe Dumars always was the coolest Bad Boy. (Is Puffy paying royalties to the Pistons?)
4. Because even though Larry Brown's a scumbag, he still went to North Carolina.
5. Because maybe if he wins another ring and gets a bigger extension, Tayshaun Prince could afford a proper meal.
6. Because of Rip Hamilton's mask and mid-range game.
7. Because the West has won enough championships lately.
8. Because it'll be WAY more awkward for Larry Brown to leave town whilst being the defending champ.
9. If Detroit wins, maybe not as much of the city will end up on fire.
10. Because all of ESPN.com picked the Spurs.
More later tonight. On what, I don't know.
Google this: Bill Mlkvy
Rather than actually preview the Finals, which pretty much every other pundit under the sun has already done (in 3,000 words or more), I figured I'd just give 10 reasons each why I'd like to see either team win. Oh yeah, Spurs in 5.
WHY I'D LIKE TO SEE SAN ANTONIO WIN:
1. It'll pretty much end the "greatest power forward of all time" debate. Tim Duncan might already be able to claim the title, seeing that he already has two to Charles Barkley and Karl Malone's combined zero. His third in eight years, together with his sublimely efficient game would basically lock it up. And he's not even 30!
2. Gregg Popovich is the NBA's coolest coach. The one-time Air Force man has the drollest sense of humor of anyone walking the sidelines today. Win or lose he's good, but considering that his opponent is the world's greatest opportunist, I'm going with Pop.
3. Bob Horry gets another ring. This would be his sixth (with three different teams) tying him with Scottie Pippen and Michael Jordan. Sure, he's somewhat of a mercenary, and he's had the good fortune to play with Hakeem, Shaq AND Duncan in their primes. But yeah, it's probably been worth it. And despite all of his high-profile teammates, he's done far more than just tag along for the ride.
4. Charles Barkley will get to yell GINO-BILI more. Sure, he won't be on TV when he does it, but we'll all know it anyway.
5. Make Larry Brown leave town after coming up short. Good luck, LeBron!
6. Save Detroit money on street signs. What would it be next? Four Championship Way?
7. May offense triumph over defense. Of course the Spurs can defend as well (see: Bowen, Bruce), but after the way they ran with the Suns, that's the style I want to see end up with the trophy.
8. Eva Longoria celebrating on the court.
9. Because Larry Brown's a scumbag.
10. Because my Mom is a Spurs fan. It's mostly because of Steve Kerr, but she's stayed true. Now she's the one calling me about games.
WHY I'D LIKE TO SEE DETROIT WIN:
1. Rasheed Wallace. I might need to cop that 36 jersey soon regardless. He's gotta do something about that mangy-looking beard, though. Well, if he wants. I ain't telling 'Sheed what to do.
2. Because Darko Milicic would have two rings while Barkley, Malone, Patrick Ewing, Kevin Garnett, Allen Iverson and Gary Payton have a combined zero. And LeBron hasn't made the playoffs yet.
3. Because Joe Dumars always was the coolest Bad Boy. (Is Puffy paying royalties to the Pistons?)
4. Because even though Larry Brown's a scumbag, he still went to North Carolina.
5. Because maybe if he wins another ring and gets a bigger extension, Tayshaun Prince could afford a proper meal.
6. Because of Rip Hamilton's mask and mid-range game.
7. Because the West has won enough championships lately.
8. Because it'll be WAY more awkward for Larry Brown to leave town whilst being the defending champ.
9. If Detroit wins, maybe not as much of the city will end up on fire.
10. Because all of ESPN.com picked the Spurs.
More later tonight. On what, I don't know.
Google this: Bill Mlkvy
Monday, June 06, 2005
Making sense is overrated.
I'm sticking with my earlier prediction that Detroit wins Game Seven tonight. I know I picked Miami in the mag--and were Shaq and Wade healthy, I would still be looking their way--but Detroit is just too poised and prepared (and uninjured) to lose this one. Besides, it'll be good to see Rasheed in the Finals again, especially with his temper as on-edge as it's been as of late. I do kind of hope that Alonzo Mourning accidentally pops Larry Brown with an over-emphatic fist pump (just stop it already, Zo--we get it).
NYC officially bypassed spring once again, proceeding directly to throw-a-garbage-can-through-the-window-of-Sal's-Famous heat and humidity. Made me want to break out a Jackie Robinson jersey and some Air Trainer IIIs. Instead, did a couple errands on my track bike--and changed shirts every time I stopped home. I mean, it's DISGUSTING out. And tomorrow's supposed to hit 90. Joy. Also read a bunch of the new STRIKER today, which includes a Diego Maradona boardgame by yours truly. Some really good stuff in there.
I'm still trying to figure out which direction to take this thing in, especially once the NBA season ends. I'll probably just continue to ramble, seeing that finding a focus rarely seems to be my strong point. (As I type this I'm watching Dogtown And Z-Boys for the umpteenth time.) And speaking of which, why did Stacy Peralta have to put out a movie--Lords Of Dogtown--that's essentially a recreation of the stories told in the documentary? I mean, he started Powell Peralta and was responsible for putting together the Bones Brigade--including Tony Hawk, Steve Caballero, Lance Mountain, etc.--in the mid '80s. Where's the movie on that? Theyre must be SO much extra footage from all the old videos. Gimme a documentary, anything. I guess it would be almost a sequel to Dogtown, and a companion piece to Stoked (the Gator Rogowski story, which a) is awesome and b) includes first SLAM EIC Cory Johnson, who looks nothing like I imagined he would).
I've decided against doing the mockery Draft, just because mock drafts are stupid enough on their own. I'm guessing that the Milwaukee Bucks don't know exactly who they're going to pick yet, so why should I read someone else's speculations for the entire first round? Hell, Peter Vescey usually gets some picks wrong ON DRAFT NIGHT. That said, if I'm the Bucks, I'm taking Marvin Williams. Sorry, Andy.
Russell Crowe got arrested for being violent with an underling? No!
Also, from now on I'll close off with something (a name or whatever) for you to punch into Google. They'll be no rhyme or reason, just things I find interesting. (And speaking about interesting and Google, turn off "safe search" and image search just about anything--it'll change your life, and not necessarily for the better.) Anyway, today: Michael Sieben.
NYC officially bypassed spring once again, proceeding directly to throw-a-garbage-can-through-the-window-of-Sal's-Famous heat and humidity. Made me want to break out a Jackie Robinson jersey and some Air Trainer IIIs. Instead, did a couple errands on my track bike--and changed shirts every time I stopped home. I mean, it's DISGUSTING out. And tomorrow's supposed to hit 90. Joy. Also read a bunch of the new STRIKER today, which includes a Diego Maradona boardgame by yours truly. Some really good stuff in there.
I'm still trying to figure out which direction to take this thing in, especially once the NBA season ends. I'll probably just continue to ramble, seeing that finding a focus rarely seems to be my strong point. (As I type this I'm watching Dogtown And Z-Boys for the umpteenth time.) And speaking of which, why did Stacy Peralta have to put out a movie--Lords Of Dogtown--that's essentially a recreation of the stories told in the documentary? I mean, he started Powell Peralta and was responsible for putting together the Bones Brigade--including Tony Hawk, Steve Caballero, Lance Mountain, etc.--in the mid '80s. Where's the movie on that? Theyre must be SO much extra footage from all the old videos. Gimme a documentary, anything. I guess it would be almost a sequel to Dogtown, and a companion piece to Stoked (the Gator Rogowski story, which a) is awesome and b) includes first SLAM EIC Cory Johnson, who looks nothing like I imagined he would).
I've decided against doing the mockery Draft, just because mock drafts are stupid enough on their own. I'm guessing that the Milwaukee Bucks don't know exactly who they're going to pick yet, so why should I read someone else's speculations for the entire first round? Hell, Peter Vescey usually gets some picks wrong ON DRAFT NIGHT. That said, if I'm the Bucks, I'm taking Marvin Williams. Sorry, Andy.
Russell Crowe got arrested for being violent with an underling? No!
Also, from now on I'll close off with something (a name or whatever) for you to punch into Google. They'll be no rhyme or reason, just things I find interesting. (And speaking about interesting and Google, turn off "safe search" and image search just about anything--it'll change your life, and not necessarily for the better.) Anyway, today: Michael Sieben.
I'm an idiot.
Somehow I just double-posted. Actually, I clicked "back" to change the time and must have been a little too late. Alas.
Carry on.
Carry on.
Sunday, June 05, 2005
Larry Brown is a scumbag.
Yep, I said it. Even though the man is a Tar Heel who learned everything he could from the Master himself, and is probably the best b-ball coach working today, I wouldn't trust him with my pet hamster (if I had one, which I don't).
Isn't his history telling enough? Sure, he's won everywhere he's been. But he's been everywhere! I still don't know what the heck the Pistons were thinking when they signed him to a five-year deal. Five years? He should be on rotating one-year contracts--a perpetual lame duck, ready to pack up and leave town at a moment's notice. Even better, just pay him by the hour. Would that be any less of a distraction than interviewing for a front-office position with a division rival DURING the Eastern Conference Finals?
As a coach during the playoffs, you need to tell your team to stay focused and block out all distractions. Which is a harder point to make when you're heading out to job interviews. He's just lucky that the Pistons are a tough bunch unlikely to be distracted by much of anything. Well, except for Rasheed, who occasionally seems distracted by everything.
And who knows how the Cavs thing could work out anyway. Does LeBron REALLY want his GM to be a guy who wouldn't play him during the Olympics, despite his obvious talent? Does Mike Brown REALLY want to coach under LB, getting second-guessed all day, e'ry day, not knowing when the boss is going to decide to take over on the floor as well? For that matter, does LB REALLY want to end up in an office instead of on the sidelines?
Despite all of that--and despite the fact that Game Seven is in Miami--I think the Pistons get through to the Finals for the second straight year. With the injuries they have, and after the wipeout last night, the Heat just look overmatched. But even without the fun of Shaq and D. Wade, it should be a terrific Finals. Well-matched teams with fundamentally sound players and loose cannons alike. Some games might even see both teams break 100! At least, I hope so.
An aside, was anyone else disappointed that Gregg Popovich wasn't Deep Throat?
Isn't his history telling enough? Sure, he's won everywhere he's been. But he's been everywhere! I still don't know what the heck the Pistons were thinking when they signed him to a five-year deal. Five years? He should be on rotating one-year contracts--a perpetual lame duck, ready to pack up and leave town at a moment's notice. Even better, just pay him by the hour. Would that be any less of a distraction than interviewing for a front-office position with a division rival DURING the Eastern Conference Finals?
As a coach during the playoffs, you need to tell your team to stay focused and block out all distractions. Which is a harder point to make when you're heading out to job interviews. He's just lucky that the Pistons are a tough bunch unlikely to be distracted by much of anything. Well, except for Rasheed, who occasionally seems distracted by everything.
And who knows how the Cavs thing could work out anyway. Does LeBron REALLY want his GM to be a guy who wouldn't play him during the Olympics, despite his obvious talent? Does Mike Brown REALLY want to coach under LB, getting second-guessed all day, e'ry day, not knowing when the boss is going to decide to take over on the floor as well? For that matter, does LB REALLY want to end up in an office instead of on the sidelines?
Despite all of that--and despite the fact that Game Seven is in Miami--I think the Pistons get through to the Finals for the second straight year. With the injuries they have, and after the wipeout last night, the Heat just look overmatched. But even without the fun of Shaq and D. Wade, it should be a terrific Finals. Well-matched teams with fundamentally sound players and loose cannons alike. Some games might even see both teams break 100! At least, I hope so.
An aside, was anyone else disappointed that Gregg Popovich wasn't Deep Throat?
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