Black Peter And The Heebie Jeebies

Blogs are like relatives. It's awkward when you first return but once you're back you always seem to be wonderin': "why so long?"

My beloved Pistons, the only likable team in the Detroit Area has fallen from the Eastern Elite. Note: I use "likable" instead of "lovable" because the Detroit Lions are right now, in the Economically depressed state of Michigan, the most lovable team I have ever encountered. People everywhere are rising up in ironic support of their ineptitude. Just today I was walking past a barber shop and caught sight of three signed photographs in the window. They were of Matt Millen, Rod Marinelli, and Mike Martz. I laughed out loud, my guffaws echoing through the air. I didn't realize that people inside the store were watching me. I looked inside and they were laughing with me. Also, I've been to a bar every day I've been here. They've been varying places--high end, low end, friend's basement--but one thing has united one. In every bar people are discussing Calvin Johnson's potential. Eminem might be coming back but this is culture right now.

Onward to Basketball, the sport I've been ignoring for football over the past three weeks. Sorry, it's just been a slate of far too good games.

I've caught a lot of Pistons since I've been back. I caught the second half of tough loses versus Utah and Atlanta (where we benched AI in the fourth no less). It is disheartening to say bvut the soul of this team left town with Chauncey Billups. Now, there is no way in hell Chauncey would be this effective in the D. My professor said he was smoking too much but aftern the cathartic experience of going home for Christmas I can understand how returning to his hometown of Denver as the favorite son, the homecoming conqueror, would rejuvenate a man's game. Throw in the ineptitude of Coach George, the hot and coldness of 'Melo, and you have a man with free reign over his destiny. It's great to see Chauncey mingle among the league's elite once again. He's a streaky player but I trust it'll last through the season and a first round victory. That deserves a parade in my book.

The downside of Chauncey's trade to Denver has been the disshevelment of the once Super Duper Pistons. Allen Iverson has yet to find a groove with the team and for the first time since his rookie year he's picking up some doubters. This landed him on the bench during crunch time. Hopefully it spurs a FUCK YOU rennaissance. The biggest effect of Chauncey's departure has been the lack of a late game closer. We're grooming Stuckey for the role and he's proven to be more than up to the task. Already I'd say he's a rich man's Ben Gordon but he's got a long way to go before carrying the Pistons through late game stretches is a routine reality. He poured 40 on Chicago tonight, inspiring the masses, but late game histronics will continue to be a dystopic mess. Run Rip off a screen, try to get AI to the line, or let Stuckey go all twirl a whirl through the D. Letting these players do what they do is fine and good but it's a sorely missed step behind the precision late game execution honed to a religious ritual by one Mr. Big Shot.


Thoughts on the East.
Sometime in the future we might have to pick sides of Cleveland versus Boston for control of the East. I'll hate the Cavs until they switch back to the old unis to honor Larry Nance and Daugherty and will never ever cheer for a Boston team. Pressed for an opinion, I'd rather pull out my eyebrows.
Orlando could be the knight in shining armor that lifts the season to the next level. A second round series between the Magic and Cavs seems like an inevitability. The Cavs may have dominated Autumn through intensity but no amount of hustle can quell Dwight's muscle. (Look at me! I made a poem)
The Atlanta Hawks have silly silly home games. Watching on television it seems like a depressing night club, trying way too hard to distract from its sparse crowds.

As Always...

Bryan is right. My enthusiasm towards Sports has waned to levels unseen since my 8th grade spring when I got way into Slipknot and bored by the inevitable Lakers-Pacers Finals. Even then, Rik Smits was a silver lining. 

Aside from the enthusiasm injected by an Obama Presidency, each of the three major Sports is boondoggled with problems. The game isn't the problem but the mass media abuses its power of infinite resources to turn everything into a shit show. My favorite salve for boredom, as it has been since literacy, is reading about sports but outside of the FreeDarko, Sports Illustrated, True Hoop, Deadspin, and KissingSuzyKolber Canon the way Sports are being covered is not conducive to fandom. Reading Bryan's post I was refreshed because I could tell that it was written by a fan. He inspired me to watch basketball or even the terrible sport of the NFL. I haven't watched a game start to finish in 3 weeks (even the NFL!). 

I feel bad and ashamed of liking Sports so much when they are in the doldrums like this but this shame stems not from the contents but the idiotic way in which they are covered. Charles Barkley and Michael Jordan appealed to me as a six year old, rousing my interest in Sports that consumes to this very day;. The 1992-93 season was pitted as an epic  battle. Even with my beloved Pistons getting over the hill and kind of pathetic by association, Barkley and Jordan represented a duel of epic proportions. Like Lions versus Christians except the Christians won in the end. Barkley set the archetype for loose cannon, fun loving athletes. He was lazy, blunt, but utterly charming. More than a basketball player, he was a cartoon villain. My mom bought me a T-Shirt for "Barkley-O's Cereal" promising to "wreck havoc in every box". It only seemed right when he played Godzilla in a television commercial. On the other hand, Jordan was Bugs Bunny (and this was even before Space Jam). Young Jordan was a marvel to watch both on and off the court. Michael Jordan's Playground, Michael Jordan: Come Fly With Me were chalky, shoddily made videos that made me love him as a cherubic sky walker. Then I started watching him out wile, outsmart, utterly outdo opponents in every facet of the game and began to hate him. More than Magic versus Bird, this was a battle, fuck the eighties and their black versus white racial overtones as overarching narratives. This was Saturday Morning Cartoons and Gladiators rolled into one. I suppose it helped that jordan was a Saturday Morning Cartoon. 

The players dictated the myths around them. 

I learned about LeBron James when he was 15. I vainly tried to convince my parents to drive to Akron to watch him play in High School. They wouldn't agree. Too bad. That was my last chance to watch him when he was still likable. LeBron is great, probably the best player in the league this season (sorry Kobe and CP3), but focus is not on the player but rather his place in history and his future destinations. Superstars, bringing in bucket upon bucket of grubby money, deserve the acclaim but the don't force feed me the greatness. The NBA is ran by smart people, very very very smart people, but they may be too smart. Aware of a player's potential place in history, they heap them into historical contexts and ride their coat tails to the bring the league into prominence. 

This furthers the great narrative of the league but it is has made the biggest names unlikable or at the very least uninteresting. 

The 5 biggest stars (not best players) are as follows. 

LeBron James

Kobe Bryant

Yao Ming

Tim Duncan

Paul Pierce 

Too bad they've been ruined. Constant coverage and unnatural connotations have made it impossible to think about them without the following thoughts. 

LeBron James- "WHERE WILL HE GO IN 2010? (the most annoying story I've ever encountered about any one or thing), how does he play with new teammates?, how can Cleveland please him?" Ugh. LeBron makes it impossible to savor the moment. 

Kobe Bryant- Is he as good as Jordan? Is his redemption complete? Kobe makes me question if anything about him is legit. 

Yao Ming- CHINA CHINA CHINA CHINA CHINA CHINA GLOBALIZATION GLOBALIZATION. He makes it feel like a business meeting. 

Tim Duncan- We are tired of him winning because every one is tired of seeing the Spurs win. Maybe if they wore colors. In truth, this is a pretty cool Spurs team. Tim carrying an injured squad gives one of our greatest a new challenge, Tony and Manu have their first taste of adversity and Roger Mason is one of the all-out ballsiest players in the league and makes me remember when he was projected as a lottery pick waaaaaaaaay back when. Though they may be cool it's like going into your garage to see your Grandfather welding after 10 years of watching him whittle. Though cool, because it's him, you brand it as uncool. 

Paul Pierce- Boston's legacy is insufferable and I live on the West Coast, thousands of miles away. Good thing no cares about their city outside of Sports and Accents. If they tried to rub shoulders with New York and Chicago we'd become the new French. 

A player must be tarnished, untapped, or an underdog to gain my approval. 

Here is hope: 

Chris Paul 

Dwight Howard

Devin Harris 

Dywwayane Wade (Thank God no one cares anymore cause his game is beautiful) 

Amare Stoudamie (Everybody loves a malcontent) 

Since We Last Spoke Pt. 8,734

I don't buy Cleveland as a legitimate championship contender yet. Yes, LeBron looks by far and away the best player in the league this year, but there's no way you can say that the Cavs are the NBA's best team.

As much as I dislike Boston (trust me, I do), I find the idea that the Cavaliers have eclipsed the Celtics to be laughable. First off, as of today Boston owns the better record, so if you're going by pure season statistics Cleveland is a game worse than them. Secondly, we have not seen this version of the Cavs in the playoffs. I know that's sort of a bullshit point, as they have yet to have the chance to appear in the playoffs; but I feel it's valid in this case. This Cleveland team is fucking brand new. They've only played 18 games or something. There's a lot of time for them to gel and a lot of time for them to fall apart. Boston lost James Posey, but it doesn't look like that fact has even registered with the team. Plus as I wrote the other week, Pierce looks terrifying in the second half of games. Plus, remember that the rest of the team isn't all that bad themselves in the second half.

Plus, if they were to theoretically win the east they would still have to beat whoever wins the west. After a slow start the western conference seems as if it's starting to shape up. The Lakers, Denver, and Utah (with a healthy Williams) look to be extremely legit. Portland is young but good. This teams still a preview, but one that'll make the playoffs. San Antonio is--well, San Antonio. You can't count them out. Ever. That's five solid teams, not taking into account three teams that should be good but look unimpressive so far: Phoenix (c'mon Joel, this is not that Suns teams), Dallas (so meh-worthy, its ridiculous) and Houston (I don't want to give up on them, yet). Yeah whoever wins the west will most likely be beaten up, but they'll be a better fucking team than Cleveland.

Oh, and one last thing...its fucking December.

P.S. In case anyone was wondering Joel is so distraught about the Lions that he's given up on sports. Their season will be over soon though, so I expect him back then at the latest.

One Fragment and One Sentence About Every NBA Team

Atlanta Hawks: Surprised the world by not sucking. I underestimate everyone on their roster as they stem from Georgia. 

Boston Celtics: Exceptional but ultimately obsolete. KG and Pierce chill in All-Star Stratosphere but even with their rings no one can tell  me they are better players than 'Nique or Bernard King. 

Charlotte Bobcats: Larry Brown and youth. I hope this team becomes good despite the boondoggle, lifting Wallace and Okafor to the heavens. 

Fuck this... It's useless and meaningless. 

Not Basketball But Awesome Nonetheless

Forget Dedication 3, the Drought 6 is where it's at. Best album art of the year? I think so!

Also please don't sleep on the new Clipse mixtape. Yeah it's Complex that's helping present the thing, but it's good. At least based on one listen. Find it here.

UGH...

I've been approaching this NBA season with all the enthusiasm of a housewife approaching her third caesarian section. There are no excuses for this, not with The Answer jumping to my beloved 'Stones and stealing a win from the Cavs just in time to prevent them from getting too big for their bridges. Any true Piston fan should feel enthusiasm like they haven't felt since Chauncey routinely sank half court shots in autumn's past. Allen takes bad shots, that's a given, but his intangible effect on the team is phenomenal. Rasheed is running. I haven't seen that dude run since Game 7 versus L.A. way back in the day. I remember that even though that was the year I didn't fit in and decided to like Slipknot and not sports. Rasheed is rejuvenated. Watching him play basketball like this is like watching Mike Utley learn to walk again. Furthermore, Kwame Brown has been a revelation of rejuvenation. If he of all people can rise from the ashes, our greatest successes are only a fingertip away. He sends Amir to the bench, but Nick and Bryan conclude that was the plan all along (I think. I'm not certain of the conversations). IF this is the case it means Dumars was daring enough to keep a red herring on his roster. Genius. Brilliant. Bold. 

Derrick Rose has been so much fun so far. It's a shame the Bulls are the stupidest NBA team ever assembled. Outside of Rose, Deng, and Hinrich, the team is a team of autistics. I watch Tyrus Thomas make two superstar plays in a row but sulk the rest of the game. Larry Hughes carries the weight of Atlas and is forever on the verge of tears. Ben Gordon hoists up shots like they came from an expense account. Drew Gooden? Don't get me started. I have nothing to say about a man who pays more attention to his hair follicles than his game. He calls his current beard the tarantula, he used to wear something on the back of his head that can only be described as a Neck Pussy. For the love of god man, become a stripper already. Rose appears to be special and surrounded with Deng the Bulls could rise to the tops of the East in time. They may even make the playoffs this year, but that does nothing to dissuade me from thinking the Bulls need to blown up more than any other team in the league. 

I am interested in the NBA but far from intrigued. Why is this? It's been predictable so far. The teams expected to be good are doing good. Teams expected to be bad are doing bad. The Knicks are the closest thing to a Phoenix rising from the ashes but the Knicks of my lifetime have been the ultimate turn off. Stark's constant teases and the last three years tumult makes them the last team I would ever deign to care about. I love Lee, I coddle J-Craw, but the blue and orange uniform is a demerit of the highest standard. 

As the saying goes...

First is the worst. 

Second is the best. 

Third is the nerd with the hairy chest. 

I accept the holy triumvirate of LeBron, Kobe, and Chris Paul, but it seems like this season's interest hinges on whoever the 4th best player is. So far no one is stepping forth. Will the old guard (actually a PF/C) Duncan carry a shorthanded team? Will Dirk come back on the horrifically ugly Mavericks? Will Nash still be Nash under Porter? I don't know the answer to these queries but I know it's time for someone to step up and be the man. I suppose Wade has been the fourth best player so far. That goes without saying... but his presence in the pantheon feels somehow doomed. I pray for the new guard to take the reigns. Come on Bosh, go get 'em 'Melo. Someone be unpredictable...

Also...thanks for shitting the bed Horf. 

Since We Last Spoke

"From the ashes I rise like a phoenix."

I once started a blog post (or a live journal post, but how could it be that I am much to cool for Live Journal!!!) and one friend called me up at 4am to ask if my apartment had burned down and if I was okay. No I assured him, that was not the case at all, I was just returning from a prolonged absence, born anew and ready to write. So please, everyone reading this, fret not, my apartment is fine, even with two Canadians holed up next to me. But I am back to writing.

As I've been gone for more than a week there are quite a few things that I wish to cover, so please forgive the fragmented nature of the following post. It just seems like the most efficient way of saying what I want to say.

Last Wednesday, November 12th, was the first great day of this infant NBA season. We were treated to not one, but two quality games. First there was the Boston-Atlanta game that wasn't over until the final second when Pierce had to hit one of his now commonplace clutch shots.
And finally there was the Lakers-Hornets game which may not have seemed like it was great, but what looked like it would be a sure Los Angeles blowout turned into a tense game 7 point game that was closer than that.

I will now delve into what was important about these two games.

1. Atlanta showed that they're for real. No I doubt they'll finish in the top half of the conference, but I fully expect this team to make it to the playoffs. There's something refreshing about this, that even Childress' departure can't temper (I have a long history with Childress, maybe I'll go over it one day). I was sure that last year's showing against Boston was a fluke, but this team is going as far as a Hawks team can. They're not a title threat, but they can now make the playoffs AND! just might steal a series from someone.

2. Even I have to admit that Paul Pierce has now reached the rank of terrifying. He is a perfect example of what confidence does for a person. When he got the ball at the end of the game, there was no doubt in his mind (or any other Celtic) that the game was theres. That's just who Pierce is now. I really do miss the old likable and incredibly flawed Inglewood native who wasn't prone to over theatrics and all around assholeness, but this one is probably a better player. But as Joel and I have talked about before, those old drives to the basket were exhilarating.

3. Like everyone under the sun I fully expect the Lakers to be at the top of the west all season. But I've decided that the Hornets will be right there with them. New Orleans probably won't be a good as last year (people know what to expect from them this year), but they're a fantastic team, a player or some luck short of a championship. As I mentioned earlier, I was dissapointed when I finally checked in on the Lakers/Hornets game because Los Angeles seemed to be fully in control of things. But during the fourth quarter the game got flipped on its head. Next thing I knew the game was in the final minutes and New Orleans was within a basket. And this is the thing, the Lakers didn't let Chris Paul & Co. back into the game, the Hornets forced their way back. It was just good to see the team show such fight and I think this means it might yet develop into an awesome rivalry. I'm keeping my fingers crossed at least.

Some other notes not related to last Wednesday:

Portland is good. I know they got off to a rough start and with the exception of last night Oden has looked meh at best, but this team is fun to watch. Joel probably wouldn't agree, he's full of anti '07 draft backlash, but there's something very idealistic about them. They're a ways from actually being great, but they'll be there some day. Probably a little longer than the rest of the blogosphere thinks though.

Houston is a wreck. I wrote about my dissatisfaction with them last week (something that is partially my fault) but now the injury bug has got a hold of the team. Yao (foot!), Tracy (something!), and Ron Ron (a case of the crazies!) are all banged up and Artest is the only one the team will probably let play through the team. There is a lot of the season left but I feel the Rockets will never live up to their potential. What happens to Artest if they don't though. He's an unrestricted free agent. Unless he punches David Stern during their All Star Weekend dance off I think someone will pay him. I would.

Finally, because Joel demanded it I will mention Pao Gasol's monstrous game from last night. It was just that--monstrous. The fact that he is the Lakers' No. 2 is why they are dominant and will remain so for the time being. The thing is that's about all I have to say. I love Pao. I think he is at times: masterful, graceful, goofy, and kinda cool. But he is not Lamar, the player with whom my heart lies with on the Lakers. I can appreciate him, but I've yet to really embrace him. I'm so glad he's a Laker, but I still need time to adjust to him. Last season he was a novelty, but now the new car smell is gone and he's a just a nice import sedan. Let me spend a few more month rooting for him though. Then the luxury will sink in.

Big White Stiffies!!!!

Please note: This isn't really about race. It's more about meatballs, Mark Eaton, and hot wiring an ATV for a joyous jaunt around rural Utah.

Race plays a big part in the perception of NBA players. This is so elementarily evident I learned it the tender age of six. My Dad and I went to Meijer to purchase a basketball pump for my flat sphere of rubber. The time must have offered a market boom in ball inflation as there were five different selections to choose from. I noticed one of them featured a caricature of Michael Jordan alongside a caricature of a white man in a Milwaukee Bucks uniform. I was an NBA expert, eager to rattle off the name, jersey number, and college affiliation of any playoff team, but had no idea who this goofy white man was.

Upon closer inspection it was Brad Lohaus. Brad fucking Lohaus. He of the career 5.9 career PPG was featured next to Michael Jordan, inspiration for the feature film "Michael Jordan: An American Hero" that I watched for fifteen minutes this morning. As a tangent: fifteen minutes of the film offered three scenes of Jordan crying.

Jordan had yet to vicariously break the hearts through mediums of Barkley and Malone so I was still a Jordan fan. His tongue waggling gave a good excuse for my drooling problem. I didn't have a muscular deficiency in my lower lip, I was just trying to be like Mike. My Dad, being the good father he was, instinctively picked the pump with Jordan on it. I told him to put it back. Not even children want any part of Lohaus.

As I grew up with the NBA I was forced to accomodate a series of big white stiffs that were shoved down my throat and marketed to embarassing excess. Shawn Bradley, Keith Van Horn, Christian Laettner, Big Country Reeves, Bobby Hurley, and an assortment of other caucasian ballers played the game with the fire of an accountant and cast a stigma upon white players that follows me to this day upon forays to the local basketball court.

Other players of Hispanic or African origins get compared to Kobe or Ginobilli upon making a great play. I played a dominant game on Wednesday, scoring eight baskets from all over the court. I blocked several shots, drove and dished, and even threw my fat frame into the lane for a stylish reverse layup. After threading an outlet pass the length of the court through two defenders, I felt like Karl Malone 1997 vintage edition.

"Nice pass Manning but save it for the Gridiron."

These backhanded compliments rub me the wrong way but I accepted it as I thought I was wearing my Detroit Dream Team shirt reading "Manning" on the back. Taking it off before the third game I realized the back said "Tomlinson" , leaving no connections to Peyton Manning beside my race and awkwardness.

No matter what the white player does he is being eliminated from the Great Narrative of the game. I can't blame this for happening. They receive undue amounts of praise for intangibles, poise, and solid help defense. I'm a huge supporter of Kevin Love. Minnesota is the perfect situation for him and I see him blossoming into an All-Star with Al Jefferson hiding his downfalls and McHale teaching him beautiful footwork. Still, Kevin Love is overhyped.

Held out hope for the Great White Hope builds mountains out of Kevin Love molehills. I can't delve into discussions of Love's game without first prefacing my unwillingness to discuss sociopolitical ramifications.

I don't know what determines who is hyped and who isn't but focus on white basketball players is usually piled on the wrong citiZens. Joe Alexander, come jump for us. Adam Morrison, come conjure the spirit of Larry Bird. White players get labeled as previous caucasian incarnates but these labels harm the game. Undue pressure on white players to become Bird, Nowitzki, or Stockton is lazily applied to any white player usually because of a silly haircut or similar background. Dan Dickau was touted as the next Stockton even though his abilities are that of a career 12th man.

If an undersized point guard with a glittering smile were to come out of inner city Chicago, there's no way in hell he'd be touted asthe next Isiah Thomas.

There is a double standard here. Players get extra credit that applies the same pressure faced by any of the failed "Next Jordans". Are you reading this Harold Miner? Are you there Jerry Stackhouse? Players of no remarkable ability are predestined to the heavens only to be quickly revealed to be nothing more than pretenders. However, idiotic implications of this were quickly realized as we save the Jordan label for the deserving (ie Kobe)

The full scope of this has made me tired of white basketball players as it produces a double double standard. White players only matter if applied with the "NEXT" label. There's a poor imitation of Bird every year. Imaginary Stocktons pass without notice. The result of this jades me from caring about any caucasian prospect this side of Walter Herrmannnnnn. This is not the crime as it is neccesary to lash out against the all-encompassing media, but when a good white player comes along, someoine special and different but lacking the distinction of being an heir apparent, we fail to take notice.

There is no such thing as underrated and overrated. I don't know who would rate these things, let alone give them creedence, but Tayshaun Prince would top most underrated lists. Tayshaun Prince, star of a perennial contender, Gold Medal winner, one of the most hailed players of his era. Tay, I love you, but you ain't underrated. People care, people watch, people listen.

Greg Ostertag.
Darko Milicic.
Jon Koncak.
Joe Klein.
Chris Dudley.
Paul Shirley.
Pat Burke.
Joel Pryzyzyzyzizizbilla

In my years of watching the league, the white center has been ingrained in my mind as the athletic equivalent of a yawn. They get dunked on, get red and silly looking when winded, and even when a white man excells in the post (a la Chris Kaman) they do so in the brute force of quiet servitude. 16, 14, and 3 blocks, never looked so workman like. In the rare case that a white center has some down home gumption or Yugo Street style (a la Brad Miller or Vlade Divac) it exudes peppered with enough passing game and jumpers from the 'bows to render them as ultimately irrelevant abberations. Even Mehmet Okur, paragon of pasty seven footers everywhere gets paid for jumpers.

Seeing a white center I look away from the screen. Give me Bynum (raw oozing potential), Horford (gusto in a sea of Dominican flags), or Dalembert (Haitian like Brock!)

It has taken some work. I glued my eye lids wide open as hour upon hour of Bill Laimbeer's greatest hits (literally and figuratively) flickered on screen and into my cerebral cortex. Post-brainwashing I am ready to remember the white center and welcome them back to the NBA. Congratulations guys, you're relevant!

Andris Biedrins and Spencer Hawes are playing the Center position as well as any young big this side of Young Thunder. It takes some getting used to, some adjustment, but if you open your mind you will see that these two play a very beautiful game. Hawes is maligned for Republican roots and Biedrins is ignored for being Latvian (long whither the Latvians), but between these two the role of the big white stiff is forever being vanquished. It is probably KG's influence ignoring racial boundaries to inspire big men every where, but I don't much care about the reasons. The rtwo are playing c0mplete games. They bang in the post, fulfilling the role of big man as they block shots and board but are till unsatiated with the million dollar contracts afforded to such role players. They take it a step further, ignoring the glass ceiling of Big White Stiffs as they evolve into complete players. Hawes shoots jumpers, Biedrins drives to the basket like a sixteen year old playing drunk for the first time.

Their current stat lines are as follows:

Biedrins: 35 minutes, 16.8 points, 14.8 rebounds, 1.7 Blocks, 1 Steal.
Hawes: 30 minutes, 13 points, 8 rebounds, 2.2 blocks, 1 Steal, and carries a parasol whenever he is outside.

I read an inordinate amount about the NBA and such publications are rife with the development and deployment of the next great big men. The focus is often on Andrew Bynum and Greg Oden. While Bynum is well on the way to All-Star Games and Oden is... supposedly nice. As highly touted bigs they deserve the attention but whither Biedrins and Hawes. They languish in near obscurity as no one can come to grips with the fact that a White Center may actually be good. Such a notion rocks the foundation of our basketverse.

Maybe it'd held if we labeled them. Henceforth: Hawes will be "Rik Smits on Adderall" and Biedrins will be "The Latvian Laimbeer". I know their games have absolutely nothing in common with Smits and Laimbeer but if it takes an idiotic labeling process to get them some attention so be it.

Poor Bogut

Bryan on Nate Robinson: "The possibility of D'Antoni turning Nate Robinson into the next Steve Nash is fascinating." 

Nate Robinson is a good player. His merits come forth in furious flash mobs of excellence--scoring bursts with impossible degrees of difficulty, herky jerky drives consummating in dunk thunder, and blocks of Yao Ming--. He's a good player and the genius of D'Antoni bottles his lightning but Robinson will never SEEM like a good player. He could score thirty a game on a playoff team and still reek of novelty. 

As he rose to eminence in Dallas, Nash seemed like a novelty as well. His status as a Canadian and the mythologic bent of his origins rendered him the NBA's cute imp. His made for sitcom friendship with Dirk Nowitzki, a goofball himself, lent a tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum aspect to his game. It was hard to take him seriously, even as he made All-Star games.  

Nate and Nash are both gimmicks and it is tempting to compare them for purely plot reasons but the two players could not be more divergent on the floor. Their shared freneticism manifests itself in vastly different ways. Nash, cool and controlled as he dashes through traffic, zipping curveball passes and draining open threes, is the output of an adventurer. He is a leader of men, a tawdry mish-mash of Shawn Michaels and Christopher Columbus. 

Nate? His ceiling is Michael Adams. His achievements, no matter how gaudy, will be the achievements of a little man. If you aren't down with the league like we're down with the league this might not make sense but Nate Robinson will never be considered a basketball player. 

That's a strange thing to say about a professional basketball player. 

*****

Bryan argues that last night was the first great night of the NBA season. It looks that way on paper but Greg Oden made me turn off the TV. 

The 2007 Draft Class was supposed to be one for the ages. With Durant and Oden, the league boasted two predestined superstars, and most of the lottery picks were cited as having All-Star potential. They played at esteemed Hoops Universities and were poised to set the league on fire. 

I've read so many words on this class I began to believe the hype but the results have been disappointing. I fear for the future of the league, not because Oden will dominate, but for the amount of wasted words spent on Oden. I've lived through Darko. I can't do this again. 

Durant... :( Poor fella. 

Could 2007 go down in history as the Horford Draft?

In the days leading up to the 2007 draft, praises were sung of every player with heaps of attention loaded onto their very best good attributes. 

The 2008 Draft made mountains out of molehills as every prospect was nitpicked for flaws. Was Rose too small? Beasley too immature? Mayo too high strung? Most importantly: Could Kevin Love run? 

It's early to speculate as we are only six or seven games into the  story arcs but these guys look like ballers, already outshining the more seasoned sophomores, which begs the question "WHY THE FUCK ARE WE STILL TALKING ABOUT GREG ODEN?"  

We may pretend we were best friends

I promised another post tonight and here it is. It might be brief, but the books and another failed practice test are calling me.

So last night I watched the Lakers play with the Houston Rockets. By the end of the first quarters the Rockets looked to be in total command with a healthy 12 point lead, but then came a second quarter charge by the Lakers that led to them taking a two point advantage into a half which they then turned into a 111 to 82 thrashing.

The Lakers are of course good enough to come back from a dozen point deficit early on in a game, but there were two startling (maybe three...you'll see) things about last night. First, although Kobe played his usual closer role, the comeback was sparked by the second unit. The bench was great for the Lakers last year, but seems even better this year. Seriously, the Lamar-led backup squad seems like the best in the league. Easily. But as impressive as that was, the thing that really caught my eye was Houston's impotence throughout the final three quarters of the game. This is a team I have high hopes for, but two things became clear last night. As much as Artest adds to the team's attitude, they still don't seem tough. I believe this will change at some point during the season, but it was alarming sight last night. There was one moment in the second quarter, after Jordan Farmar finished off a two-on-on, that you could just see the Rocket's exhale and check out for the game. Shortly after this McGrady rolled/tweaked/fucked up/did something to his ankle which high-lighted the fact that other than him, the Rockets don't seem to have anyone who can just score when they need it. The Rockets looked woeful before the injury, but after it they just looked retarded. Stumbling around, passing to no one in particular, taking shots when they realized there was a shot clock. It was an all around disappointing display.

Now before anyone gets any ideas, I'm not sticking a fork in Houston. I think they'll end up either the two or three seed in the west, but I just wanted more than I've seen from them this season. It's disappointing to think that they might just end up being this year's version of the Carmello/Iverson Nuggets, a team that on paper and in my dreams comes off as nothing short of enthralling but in actuality is quite boring.

One last thing though, despite the commentators befuddlement at Ron Artest immediate hoisting (and draining) of a three milliseconds after a Lakers turnover, I absolutely loved it. It felt like the most natural thing for Artest to do at that moment. It was not a showing of stupidity, but seemed to exemplify a understanding of the games ebb and flow that no one else on the Rockets seemed to have. The game was slipping away, they needed points, as ingloriously as they may come.

Oh shit! Updates have been scarce!

But they will return to a somewhat more normal frequency later tonight.

Quick thought before leaving (and which will most likely be expanded upon in the next actual post): the Rockets are sometimes woeful on offense. I don't know if it's because it is easy to neutralize their scorers or if they just don't have many good shooters.

Ponderize that and shit.

P.S. Words of Wisdom - Sometimes it's not smart to start a blog when one of you is finishing up his last semester of college and the other is studying for the G.R.E.s. But fuck it. We did anyway.

Oh. Wow.

We're in the business of wasting both words and brain power on the Rockets and Blazers but I missed last night's game with a case of youth and a dose of a bloody knee. Dried blood is still stuck to much of my leg and tawdry bits of flesh slink from my scab like tentacles. In short: it's pretty fucking cool. My knee's gone octopus. 

I didn't watch the game but that is a good thing. I'm normally against highlights, as they dilute the essence but highlights from last nights Blazers-Rockets game were a work of art. The reason sports highlights exist in the first place. The announcers didn't even make jokes. They assessed the situation, something amazing happened. Time commenced and another amazing thing happened. Jubilation followed but was ousted by yet another amazing occurrence. Three lead changes in 1.9 seconds, our favorite stars (YAO!!!) on display, and dramatic tension occurring in thirty seconds but taking a big part in the great narrative of the season/life./ The Blazer's balls is what will set them apart. 

On a side note: Yao Ming is leading the NBA in highlights this season. Seriously, his fundamentals are manifesting themselves in extraordinary ways! 

Allen Iverson plays tonight! Allen Iverson plays tonight! I feel as if I have forgotten everything about Chauncey Billups and feel terrible about it. He was my least favorite of the Piston Fab Five of Billups/Hamilton/Prince/Wallace/Wallace but was perhaps the most extraordinary performer. He won the 2004 Finals MVP but that was a team effort. All of the Pistons sort of sacrificed themselves for the good of the team but this got shredded before the '05/'06 session of season. In the first half of the season Billups played basketball as magnificently as the game can be played. His averages for the year were 18.5 and 9 but that does little to encapsulate the effect he had on the team. His confidence immersed the totality in a furious expression of jubilee. Think of his '05 Chauncey as the greatest drummer who ever lived. He'd parade down the court, hit a jumper from 27 feet out with 18 on the shot clock, and the rest of the game would become a dance off.

WE GOT IVERSON! WE GOT OBAMA! BUT DID YOU HEAR WE GOT IVERSON?!?

Let's holla holla holla holla back! 

The oast two days have been crazy exciting. I haven't gone to school, been social, or been (scoff) productive but I feel like Daniel Craig--just slumming along to find the world as my humble oyster. I fell asleep on Sunday thinking of Joshua Tree, lack of females, and another agonizing Lions' loss. I woke up Monday Morning and everything changed: the Detroit Pistons obtained Allen Iverson. They got hum for a Chaunceyh/Antonio.Cheik Samb combo with chance of McDyess returning.

My immediate reaction: We are going to win the East. Then, we will vanquish Kobe and the inevitable Lakers to flavor of the month heartbreak. I will fly home to Detroit and DJ the victory parade with my tenori-on. 

It was euphoria. I prepared myself for another Larry O'Brien (championship trophy). The 'stones finally had a player who could go shot for shot with the LeBron/Kobe/Nash/and Parker's of the world (don't diss me on Parker cause he's a shocker in the postseason.)

Then I realized what a plethora of cap room we had. As an ardent (hell even a passive fan of the NBA) I knew what a great free agent class 2010 offered. I even knew what 2009 offered. What became clear was that we were the only NBA team with cap room for two Max Level free agents. Never mind that we already had a supporting cast in place. Whoever decides to sign with Detroit will pair with a legitimate All-Star (Rip Hamilton), a rising star (Stuckey. I contradict myself on Stuckey nearly as much as I do on my future but if the last four games are any indication he will be an All-Star. He can ALREADY do things no other Point Guard can. Sorry Bryan but I'm back on the train. I'll be getting a Stuckey tattoo in Todd Boyd parlance soon.) This isn't to mention that the Pistons will have two-three solid big men to surround them (Maxiell, Amir, and the soon to be Piston for life Herrmann) and the best GM in all of Sports. 

I will delve into things but if all goes as planned...

The Pistons take the East, win the title with A.I. as MVP then in the most controversial move in NBA history, decide to let both Iverson and Rasheed walk. Pistons fan consider themselves doomed to rejoin the lottery ranks next season EXCEPT Carlos Boozer is an unrestricted free agent and meant to be a Piston at that. He embodies the Bad Boy mentality on court and off. 

We get the Booze, win 55  and the East before succumbing to the inevitability that is Kobe's Lakers. 

Then it is the biggest free agent summer of all time. We ignore LeBron...let him go to brimstone New York. We could never embrace Wade so he stays in Miami. Bosh in Toronto is too beautiful a thing, but we keep our eyes towards Amare. He signs with us. 

Stuckey

Rip

Tay

Boozer

Amare

Amir

We win seventy championships in a row. 

Hot and Sweaty in Denver and Detroit

Forgive my lack of posts the last two days, it has been hard to focus on basketball with the election drawing to a close. But don't worry this is not a post about politics, in part because chances are if you are reading this you already know Joel or my own views on how we hope things turn out.

So big thing happened yesterday, tricky old Joe Dumars went and traded Chauncey Billups, Antonio McDyess, Cheikh Samb for Allen Iverson. Although Iverson is no longer the same player he was when he won the MVP in 2001, but he is still a definite force and the trade could do wonders for the Pistons this season. The trade is also one of those rare ones that also manages to benefit the Nuggets.

The Iverson deal is reminiscent of the boost that Rasheed Wallace gave the team when they acquired him in 2004. Although as good as he is at times he can't hold a candle to Iverson, even this current version of Iverson. The shoot first point guard also has to be viewed as a massive upgrade to Billups who seemed to be fading the last two seasons. We tend to forget that Iverson for all his scoring ability is a fucking awesome point guard. It's different to shoot first pass second when you can actually carry your team, but besides all that I just feel that Iverson really isn't that anyway. He has great court vision and if he has a better shot than anyone else why pass it up. Plus for all those who worship the way that point guards should supposedly play, the Pistons still have point guard of the future Ronald Stuckey on the bench. It should be noted here that if this whole things blows up on Detroit, Iverson is a free agent at the end of the year so they can just hand the team over to Stuckey, though I don' t think that will end up happening. And finally, let's face it with the exception of the Boston (yes I love Toronto, but they have yet to prove they're anything over the course of a season and into the playoffs), Detroit already had a good chance in the East. Now they have an even better chance.

Now while the Nuggets seem like the bridesmaid in this deal, I think they did pretty well for themselves. In the last paragraph I wrote that Iverson was an upgrade over Billups for the Pistons, but this doesn't mean the Billups is a downgrade for Denver. Billups style seems to fit the team better than Iverson, as he is more of a traditional point guard. This doesn't mean he can't score of course--we've seen many a time in the playoffs that Chauncey can score when it matters--but it means we're more likely to see the ball go through Carmello which is a good thing for the Nuggets. Denver is his team now, there is no question about that now. I liked Denver with A.I. but it was obvious that his presence confused the team more than helped it. The experiment failed and now the Nuggets have a chance to start anew, with a nice cast of characters. Denver also still has J.R. Smith, who is anything but consistent, but when he's on he can score with the best of them. There's more risk involved for them than Detroit--they're in the west, they've given up the most talented player in the deal--but I think it should work out. At least so much that this team now seems like they could possibly get past the first round of the playoffs.

One last note on the trade (for now at least!), as a lot of basketball writers have pointed out, the deal gives Detroit money to go after LeBron James in the summer of 2010. Though not as alluring as the New York or Los Angeles markets, Detroit looks a hell of a lot more enticing than staying in Cleveland.


***

Finally, I actually agree with Joel's current assessment of Stuckey. He's a great player who will probably always be more appreciated by his own fans than the basketball watching nation. But my tongue in cheek scoffing was due more to Joel's about face on the players potential. I'd heard over and over again how he was just a notch below Paul and Williams, now he was being reduced to a good to great player who might make an all star team during an off year.

PTB PTB PTB

Every one talks about the Blazers and by everyone I mean everyone. Blazer themed bingo is being played at the local VFW's. Yo La Tengo is producing an album of prosaic albums with a song dedicated to each and every player. LaMarcus's track is titled "Down Jumper" and goes a little like this:

Waft it up unknown young man
Arc along the gravitational pull
While we wait most patiently
To slip away, slip away
Through silken shreds of net.
Hook 'em horns.
Hook 'em horns.

Earlier this evening, Bryan pointed to a decisive Blazer victory over the awfully incumbent Spurs as a road sign towards coronation. First and foremost, let me state that this is a fantastic team that piques the imagination with intrigue, but therein lies the problem. Desire to like the Blazers is so strong confuses potential with production.

Potential is the foremost reason behind my ardent sports fanhood. Seeing a glimmer of ability or flash of greatness, I am coaxed to extrapolate the potential in its greatest form. One great play can make me think, no, BELIEVE a certain player is destined to be something special. This temptation caused me to worship certain players and teams- most notably former Lions WR Roy Williams and Clipper teams from the early part of this decade.

Imagining them fulfilling every iota of potential allows me to do the same within myself, thus casting Joel Walkowski in a heroic mold.

However enjoyable, hinging belief on potential is a barrellfull of belly aches. Andrew Bogut and Marvin Williams are two stellar players but each was picked over the far superior Chris Paul and Deron Williams (I'd love to snub here but can't). Marvin and Bogut play with magic in their soles, but only once in a blue moon. But that doesn't matter. Visions of an offensive revolution centering on a center averaging 6 assists and 12 rebounds and T-Mac redux, stirred the rationales that begat rueful clouds over Mil and Atl. Though it works out for the best as two NBA-meager cities don't deserve such talents.

I know Roy is good but he isn't great. He scores, makes his teammates better, and is a likable guy. Aldridge is a steel-solid big who plays more like Mehmet Okur than anyone cares to realize. Speckle in the spectre of Oden, and the mashup bunch of Martell, Rudy, Bayless, Outlaw, And Joely P under the helm of McMillan and you've got a title contender right? Well maybe... I could certainly see this team erupting into the stratosphere of champions but there exists the chance that the team will stay mired in mediocrity.

It is hard to argue against the potential but the same was true in the case of Clippers. The Clip Show was an underground phenomenon before the onset of the blogosphere. Those in the basketball know treated the Clippers like a secret handshake. IIn the heyday of AI and Shaq the league was in a bit of a doldrums. No intrigue existed in the marquee and the Clips potential was positively salvitable. Darius Miles could fly and drive with the best of them, no one had ever seen a creature like Odom before, and Corey Maggette had all the makings of the greatest 6th man of all time. The prospect of Q-Rich hoisting jumpers and an unburdened Olowakandi becoming a legit big made the Clippers one of the most exciting young teams in NBA history. Though they had yet to prove successful, they were surely ascending. I spent allowance on Darius Miles autographs and my friends and I deemed the Clippers "off-limits" in driveway reenactments of future playoffs because no one could properly capture their essence.

Then they traded the second overall pick for Elton Brand, the quintessential low post scorer and leader that would pull the team together. A core of talented under 23 youngs made both dreamers and believers. A red and white banner would surely hang in the raftered sea of purple and gold before I graduated college.

What happened? Nothing much. Aside from the tragically immature Miles none of the players turned into busts (to this day I will argue that if properly harnessed Miles would have been Garald Wallace + 2). Brand was a consistent 20/10 guy, Odom filled the stat sheet, but it never translated to wins. The wealth of raw potential turned into a dystopic mush of cellar dwelling.

The current incarnation of the Blazers tantalizes in a similar manner. Yes, they are young and talented but that is never enough. If the Blazers stay at their current level they'll contend for the playoffs for the years. If either Oden or Roy turn into superstars they'll transmogrify into contenders. Hell, if anyone outside the big three turns into a near All-Start caliber player they'll fight for supremacy. This is all possible and predictable but ordained by no means.

The team, sifted from Jail Blazer wreckage, is ingeniously built by GM Kevin Pritchard but constucted on a gamble nonetheless. The orthodox argument is that GOAD the Monolith and Roy the IPOD idol are predisposed to injury and accompanying "What Ifs?" This is cause for concern and with nothing to be done about fate, leaves the search for an identity as the biggest threat facing thaze Blazez. Throwing together a slasher, Spaniard, oversized jumpshooter, and the next Russell could mesh like Widow's web or clash like Widow's mating.

Disshevelment can be abided and even strategically implemented by a veteran team like the Rockets but could undo a young team. The struggle to get mine undermines the non-smoker in every profession and basketball is no exception. Highly touted and semi-proven, they carry the expectation of superstar. What happens when winning and personal success come to head as they inevitably will. They seem like cool cats and are welcome to a house party anytime they chance to visit the greater Los Angeles area. I don't know how persuasive McMillan is but as a mid-20's wanna be ascender in a competetive field I forsee the worries within myself. "How does this help me?" "How does this fuck me?" "What the hell is this supposed to do?" Outlaw signals further ego-derived foibles that could potentially derail this team.

I like this team and wish them great thing but what happens when LaMarcus gets snubbed from his third All-Star game. Further more, what happens if the team ends up as not-quite good enough. If history is any indication, expect a trade for Andre Miller or coalescian along Dumarsian contours. The Great Narrative has plans for the Blazers, let's sit back and enjoy the ride without marring it with our mantles.

Basketball induces unbridled optimism in me. I can't help but play pretend. As a Pistons fan I do a lot of pretending so it works out well that way. (Back to back championships in 04 AND 05 BITCHES!) Used to the core of Rashedd, Chauncey, Rip, and Tay, young players possess irresistable allure. Weeks have been spent in quiet contemplation of Amir Johnson and Rodney Stuckey. Amir is so often discussed he, like the Blazers, becomes great via Q rating. He runs the floor, blocks shots, and has a lot of life ahead of him. Could he be Josh Smith? Stuckey has the gumption of Wade and the will to bend an ancient team to his whims. As the spark plug of last year's playoff run he prompted me to proclaim him as a surefire future all-star.

Over the summer I heard reports of increased minutes and dominance of the Olympic B squad. The ballon should have been swelling.

Last week, Bryan asked about Stuckey. "He's a perfect sixth man, maybe a fring all-star."
This was decried by my compatriot. Though he could (AND WILL!) carry the franchise like an oxen, it isn't etched in stars. He'll score, he'll run rampant, but only a fool would expect marriage the moment lips touch. I'll just watch it play out, thanks.

"I've been assaulted in public by two people--or three people. You've been witness to this."

I could write about the newest volume of Ron Artest Yearly for days. But I'll leave that for another time. Anyone who hasn't seen the video of him sticking up for Yao against the Mavericks should catch that quick. Compelling stuff undoubtedly.

***

The Blazers beat the Spurs last night. It feels like something heavy, but who knows whether or not it is. I wrote in my season preview that the Spurs can't be judged until much later in the season. This is not a unique perspective whatsoever and there's a reason for that. Nonetheless it feels like an arrival of sorts for the Blazers, especially when you consider the embarrassment that was the Blazers performance on opening night. It's nice to know that last year wasn't just a tease and at some point the Blazers will (no room for conditionals here) be a force in the West. Which also means that if they were in the East they'd probably be vying for one of the top three seeds rather than trying to scrape their way into the playoffs.

Also while only having one game to use as evidence, it appears that the Blazers are a better without Oden on the floor. This is a ridiculous assumption of course--I will be the first to say--but the Blazers take on a different aura when Oden's in the fold. But not in the good way. Everyone just looked frightened on Tuesday, even before Oden rolled his ankle or foot or whatever it was but yesterday was different. It might have been because they were playing the Lakers but the Spurs have a more intimidating reputation over the last few years if anything. Last night though, the Blazers looked a cantankerous bunch of much more successful oldsters in the eye and took the game. It was nice and refreshing, but is it something they would have done with Oden on the court? I feel that Oden's presence has been so hyped that the team couldn't help but be curious and ended up getting distracted looking for the results.

***

I fear for Baron's hip. I hope he is ok. Also Beasley rebounded and had a pretty kick ass second game. I am hard on him for some reason. I like his personality but his game feels to workman like. I think its the all black sneakers he wore at Kansas State that lead to that impression.

Finally for all The Fall fans out there--and even those who don't like the band or haven't heard of them--head on over to Youtube and search for "The Wonderful and Frightening World of Mark E. Smith." It's an interesting and rather hilarious documentary about the band. It's 9 parts long, but they'll all be linked together and even if they're not they're worth searching out.

Echoing Bryan ie Dressing Like A Giant Pumpkin

Before I begin (I must make up for the oversight of Michael Beasley's inexplicable awfulness in yesterday's blog. My judgement of rookie's is based on a team by team performance and Chalmers charms were enough to make me overlook Beasley's poor stat line. Also, he successfully drove to the rim for an easy lay-up without even breaking into a jog. Encumbered with a firm case of senioritis, I roll out of bed and pass classes. I like similar traits in my players. 

***** 

Malcolm Gladwell is one of my favorite writer's AND one of my favorite sports writer's. I think only Chuckie Klosto replicates the feat making me wonder if such a trait can only be dredged from small town life.  In an interview with Bullshit a while back, Gladwell mentioned how growing up in rural Canada he fell in love with Sports without ever watching them. His fanhood blossomed  through Newspapers and Sports Illustrated. In times like these, when I feel guilty for NOT having League Pass, it is important to remember that a lot can be learned from the pure objectivity of box scores. 

I look at the first two games of the Rockets season. One win comes from gritty, down and dirty, Larry Brown ball the other a ravishing offensive display. Yesterday was a statement game. Like everyone is saying and I have faultily been saying for five years these Rockets are contenders. It was true the last year two years but Yao injuries and matchup problems with Utah halted the message. This stopped them from shining, but the errors made the Rockets sing even louder. We'll be trumpeting them for the rest of the year. A second round appearance will come and no one will care. That is what makes this team great. 

Yesterday's victory over Dallas and a reformed Nowitzki came in affront to all basketball logic. McGrady's offensive output and Carlisle's defensive schemes are true in a way the Bradley effect never will be. They just plain happen regardless of nitpicking. I watched Carlisle coach the Pistons for several years and he knows how to make Defense play out like offense. Last night was a statement game for the new Mavs to come out, but the Rockets goaded them into the jaunty Mavericking of yore with their best threat on the bench. Artest turned offensive and Yao shook off the dust for a fundamentally sound 30. 

Let me stress how premature this all is. 

The Danger of the Rockets is not that they can play any style of ball. The danger, the true threat to Celtic Pride and Laker inevitablity is that they can play any way with any combination of players. Yao, McGrady, and Artest just do it for me and the rest of the gang is one hella funky bunch. The scribes (even the scholars at our hero FreeDarko) denounced that Yao's return would mitigate the breed of defensive small ball lingering from last season. These visions cast Yao as a plodder--which he is-- but a plodder with his deft touch and passing game fits any offense, any style, and can turn basketball into a satirical game. The Webber Kings brought back fun offensive maneuvering  with no emphasis on speed or athleticism. They started Peja and Vlade Divac, a shadow of Yao formed from cigarette smoke. 

They will never run in Seven Seconds or Less but they can play the half court as fluidly as anyone so long as Yao mans the high post. 

Yao is injury prone you say? Yes, that is true but no one is indispensable. Three Amigos fellate karma with their preparation. One man down destroys nothing. McGrady and Yao can limp through games and the Rockets still have the best big three in the L. No apologies to KG, Pierce, and Allen. Apologies to KG, Pierce, and Rondo. 

What does Ron Artest do?  The Mother Fucker plays great basketball. I read a lot about basketball, far too much by all accounts and the basketball voices of our time have taken to tearing down Artest for behavioral issues. The same thing happens with me. I might put holes in your wall but I'm still one fun motherfucker to have around. 

I am proud to be a Piston fan today. I am not proud of my team, my arena, or blabbermouthed Mason on the PA. I can't abide another MiggitymiggityMaC Dyess. I'm proud of Pistons fans b/c we know our basketball. Though Ron Ron charged into the stands and beat the bejujubees from some hillbillies, we never denounced the man. He was unwelcome at barbecues and brisses but our hatred burned as a dormant ember, a far cry from the blood lust for Ben Wallace. Ron's abilities on the floor made him impossible to cherish like Rodman before him. We know a miscast hero when we see one and clamored for Artest's arrival and the ensuing PR debacle in the off season. 

It would never happen but we wanted it. We WANTED the player who charged into the stands. No one wanted the equally available Jermaine but Ron Ron speaks in specialness. 

*****

Fuck. It's 6:30 on Halloween. I've got a RAVE to prepare for. 

Trendy Haircut Bitches

Possibly the most exciting team this season (other than the one you really root for, like the Pistons for Joel and the Lakers for me) is the Houston Rockets. Actually fuck that, they ARE the most exciting team. Or at least the most intriguing.

With the addition of Artest the Rockets now have the making of a killer cop show. They of course have Yao, the model officer. The one everyone should strive to be (even an entire nation over a billion strong), but who isn't really comfortable in that role and is a tad fragile. Then there's Tracy, the one with the tragic back story. His expression shows the weight of too many dead bodies and unspeakable crimes. He just can't seem to shake his past either no matter how hard he tries. And now there's Ronny Artest, the new cop on the block, the one who is a little bit crazy. He's seen it all and it might've fucked him up or he just might be a little odd. He also fears giant snake eggs.

Their past failures unite them and drive them on a season long quest for redemption.

DAY II

Dear Bryan, 

I am angry at you. Los Angeles' effect on Baron Davis was agreed upon by the both of us via text message last night sometime in the Eight O' Clock hour. The Clippers looked god-awful in a basketball sense but were quite compelling from the vista of the story teller. 

The story starts with Baron. A product of the melting pot, his career has been a collage of hybrids and hi-jinx, with his game operating as a medium between the two rules. In Charlotte Baron played like a Tight End. In Golden State, he operated as the leader of a kamikaze platoon, holding the reigns as he charged charged charged. The mentality of being everything to everyone permeated the off court persona as he produces movies and seduces Kate Hudson. Coming to LA, Bruckheimerfication was imminent but no one knew what that meant. 

Point Guard as a classification no longer does him justice. Master's Dissertation in Sociology is much more like it. Baron's always been a bull but yesterday I saw him extend the Point Guard domain all the way to the hoop. Point guards penetrate but Baron was just sort of there, meticulously controlling the half court from every spot on the floor. I saw him reset the offense at the top of the elbow with three defenders all around him. The defenders put no affronts towards Baron and accepted it. 

Also of note, is the additional infusion of flash into Baron's game. Pulling fancy shit from every corner because y'know he is Los Angeles now. 

Everyone wins when Geography marries Ball Handling. Thanks Baron. 

***** 

Quick thoughts on the First REAL night of the NBA season. 

Tuesday was such a cock tease. It was a good night for stir-fry and nothing more. 

I really like this Clipper team. Two legits running into each other, Thornton and Gordon bouncing around like over-zealous mosquitoes, and Paul Davis shooting transition threes (FROM THE BACK UP CENTER!) should be captured in finger paint forever. 

Unfortunately, Ricky Davis and Tim Thomas will ruin everything. Like always. Again. 

A staunch defense on my opinions towards Amir and Stuckey is coming. It will read like excuses. 

Nearly every notable rookie had a stellar debut--except for Odie but that's a shoo-in if he ever plays. First games don't mean much but they can damn sure stand as an announcement. I didn't think much of OJ Mayo or Kevin Love in college or when they came out in the draft. I go to USC and ran into Mayo on occasion but was far from enamored with the chunky white girl chasing SG. 

If last night was any indication these two will be running (ok one will be waddling) rampant for a while. 

OJ Mayo went 5-20 which is a terrible line but shooting twenty shots in your first game exhibits the quiet type of confidence that turns good players into great players. 

Kevin Love played 18 minutes scored twelve and grabbed nine. His +/- = +20!!! Shit. 

*****

I often wonder what to do with my film degree. Making the greatest Josh Smith mix tape of all time could be the calling. 

It will be fifteen minutes long and be set entirely to the music of Girl Talk. Highlights of Smith with be mashed up with the clip from Critters in which the critters form into a giant critter ball and roll through town. I also hope to find footage of Dwight Howard with food poisoning. 

Magic/Hawks a rivalry we can all agree upon. 

Volleyballin'

None of the televised games in LA were enough to drag me away from laundry, Be Kind Rewind, or Obama on the Daily Show, so please forgive me if my oppinions come off as incredibly uninformed. Truth be told they would probably be the exact same if I had watched every single second of the games played tonight. Certain things stick out to me regardless of how much I'm concentrating.

But enough of setting the stage for my comments. So without further ado, here they are in their sleepy glory:

With the exception of the Memphis/Houston games, all tonight's games seemed to have been suitably high scoring. Defense can be a marvelous thing (when its of the set-things-ablaze-to-birth-something-new variety), but creation (not creationism) is so much more fun.

Despite their position as teams that bore the hell out of me, Sacramento and Minnesota seemed to have played a nice nail biter. This is was needed especially after yesterday's complete lack of theatre.

Phoenix's win over San Antonio probably isn't that meaningful. The Spurs are at 2/3 strength and they're never that good for the first 3/4 (multiple fractions in one sentence! oh shit!!!) of the season anyway. Still, it's alway nice to beat the Spurs, especially if you've met in past issues of the ongoing series.

The Lakers look sort of superb. I'm biased and they haven't really played anyone, but man alive do they look swell. Also I loved that on espn.com's season predictions, Jalen Rose didn't justify his picking the Lakers to win the title. Yes there were a few others who declined to provide elaboration for their picks, but their indifference is a different beast than Jalen's. Rose realizes that it is the pick that matter and he will let his actions speak, rather than shitting all over the screen by way of his (or his ghostwriter's) keyboard. Jalen Rose = Ernest Hemingway, Ernest Hemingway = Jalen Rose.

THE PLAY/MOMENT OF THE DAY was brought to us by the face of LA's other team. Half way through the third quarter with the game well out of reach, Baron Davis (my favorite Bruin) was still playing like a man infused with the holy spirit, hustling after a loose ball, throwing a ridiculous no look volleyball pass over his head to a streaking Al Thornton (I think, really you watch the play and try to notice anything beside Davis' pass) who whole heartedly took advantage of an uncontested opportunity to dunk. LA does something to Davis, and I hope its effect on him will help him over come the (probably) inevitable Clippers malaise that has already got its sights on him. In the words of Jalen, it was a great play.

Finally it's being reported that Oden will only be out 2-4 weeks. While I hope this is true I sorta/kinda/definitely doubt it. But you know what, maybe we've entred a new era of sports team transparency.

IT Begins

At 7:23 PM I said the following "Without basketball I feel as if I am without a bart of both my body and soul." 

I believe this to be true but if tonight is any indicator I am a soulless amputee. This was not the sport I love. This wasn't even Soap Opera. A drab display of unnecessary pomp, false idolatry, detracting from gravitational beauty in a cold, soulless corporate march. Sasha sure is funny though. 

Greg Oden got hurt again. He looked old and plodding to begin with. I hope he is alright, but at the same time I better not waste a hope on the player I saw tonight. I'd be better off wishing on a jelly bean for butterscotch dreams. 

Boston versus Cleveland has all the electricity of a briss. 

Chicago played? So did Milwaukee? It was better in the NL Central. Sabathia could out play half these cats. Especially you Gadzuric. 

The first day...

I didn't get a chance to see much competitive basketball today. By the time I got off work, the Blazers/Lakers game was all but over (and I started watching at the half). So the one good game of the day turned out to be a bust. A disappointing way to start the season to say the least.

Anyway here are my uneducated thoughts on tonight's games:

Cleveland vs. Boston - I can not think of a less intriguing game to start off the season with. Apparently Paul Pierce cried during the banner raising at the beginning. All I know is that the game was close but not really that close based on watching the final 5 minutes of the game on Gamecast.

Milwaukee vs. Chicago - Derrick Rose scored 11, had 9 assists, and brought in 4 rebounds. Nothing else in this game was of consequence.

Portland vs. the Lakers - The game I thought would be great but wasn't. Lamar Odom made an ok pass to Sasha Vujacic at one point, the only problem being that Vujacic was on the bench. Greg Oden also hurt his foot. Again. This is extremely distressing and really the only thing that may matter about this game.

So there it is, the first day of the 2008-2009 NBA season. Nothing deserving of rejoicing. I pray for a good game before Christmas.

Your hopes and your dreams and your hate and your lies

With the NBA season starting tomorrow, I though it appropriate to put up my version of a season preview. I don't really have the time, focus, or discipline to write out something on every team so here's my best shot (or at least what I could write up in 15 minutes). All teams listed in terms of preference:

Team I spend countless hours thinking about (aka the team that I will weep for):

Los Angeles Lakers - My team. My heart. My everything.

Teams I will root for:

Toronto Raptors - T. J. Ford's out of the way, so I expect magic from them. Chris Bosh looks like a stegosaurus and Jose Calderon thinks Mexican food is better than Spanish food.

Portland Trail Blazers - I feel like I only have a season or two left of rooting for them, before they become the Lakers mortal enemies.

New Orleans Hornets - Chris Paul and Tyson's Chandlers athleticism.

Teams I'm almost endlessly intrigued by:

Houston Rockets - Tracy McGrady, the world's most morose and sleepy eyed private eye.

Los Angeles Clippers - There only chance is if Baron Davis' beard gives its wearer the power of invulnerability. Perchance to dream.

Memphis Grizzlies - I don't know why either.

Denver Nuggets - Midway through the season the rest of Carmelo's body will take on the baby-like qualities of his face.

Philadelphia 76ers - Thadeus Young is on one of my fantasy teams!

Team I will pay attention to because they mean so much to people I hold near and dear:

Detroit Pistons - The most exciting group of young role player who will never be anything more than role players ever. Although I expect better from them than that. Duh-zers.

Team I feel I should like but don't for some reason that is not yet clear:

Orlando Magic - They have all these intriguing players and often play a chaotic style in pursuit of creation, yet I don't like them.

Team I kinda of sort of want to see what will happen to since I really liked Seven Seconds or Less:

New York Knicks - It'd be great if James Dolan turns out to be some sort of soul sucking celestial sent down to earth to enrage Spike Lee and make Woody Allen shrug his shoulders, and not just a complete moron.

Team I will occasionally check in on because they are coached by Vinny Del Negro:

Chicago Bulls - Some of my most vivid basketball memories are images of David Robinson glaring at Vinny and Dennis Rodman and wishing they'd let him join their secret club. P.S. Dennis Rodman is almost 50!!!

Teams that prove that there is no such thing as addition by subtraction (even if involuntary):

Washington Wizards - I miss you Gilby.

Atlanta Hawks - The Greeks have stolen your essence! Even if he wasn't that great to begin with.

Golden State Warriors - Oh what could have been.

Team I feel like I should hate, but sort of don't, but don't care for regardless:

Utah Jazz - I like Darren Williams and not just because his hair is always done all crooked-like.

Teams I don't care about and thus can muster no words for:

Charlotte Bobcats, Dallas Mavericks, Indiana Pacers, Milwaukee Bucks, Minnesota Timberwolves, New Jersey Nets, Sacramento Kings.

Teams I will not root for:

Miami Heat - Even if I like Wade more than ever before (what a great Olympics!) I cannot find it within myself to root for this team.

Phoenix Suns - These are not the Sun of old. I do like Amare though.

Oklahoma City Thunder - Someday Kevin Durant will be on another team. I am excited for that day.

Cleveland Cavaliers - Boring.

San Antonio Spurs - Boring x 2.

Team that I hate with all my might:

Boston Celtics - Fuck 'em.

P.S. I won't make a title prediction for awhile. If ever.

We Are Here!

This is a blog about Basketball. Why a blog? This is 2008. Why basketball? I've spent the past twenty minutes trying to load Peter King's Monday Morning Quarterback Column to read the latest dish about the NFL. I wasn't too enthused when B came to me with idea of a basketball blog as I'm sort of aloof and nonsensical about most things these days. I knew I was in but needed an onus to spark my interest...

As I grow older my ADD gets worse and worse. It's gotten so bad that I find myself accepting it as a legitimate handicap. My high dosage of Adderall doesn't do the trick like it used to. Worse yet, I have papers due all the time  a novel to write in my spare time to maintain any semblance of self worth. These are the sort of thoughts that make me want to get my life organized but I don't make the leap. This is especially clear on Sundays. Sundays are spent laying around, watching football, and having strange conversations with weird people. Stand up Comedy was once a part of the mix and and will be again but I can't when. I want to jump in front of everyone and make them laugh. That is my primary desire. 

I meander. I mean to succinctly say that I spend Sunday nights drinking beer, writing, and reading about basketball in my spare time. I like to read novels. I want to read novels. But nothing compares to the pursuit of hoop. 

Awake by myself at 6:34 I find my thoughts turning to basketball, specifically the NBA and how the Sacramento Kings would fare against a Maccabi Tel Aviv team keyed by Piston burn outs Carlos Arroyo and Rodney White.  

I listen to music too. On Sundays it's Stevie Wonder, MF Doom, Air, and Gershwin at the moment. 

I am digressing. I fail in fulfilling my obligation to this blog. Get used to it. 

Tuesday is a Holy Day in my world. The advent of the NBA season brings another turn on the Great Narrative. I watch basketball but sometimes I watch basketball. In a state of extreme focus every player, action, and event becomes a cog in the Great Narrative of an NBA season. I watch a lot of Sports but when basketball makes complete sense, serving allegories for everything while standing tall as a monolith of sport. 

I am here to follow the Great Narrative of Basketball. To chronicle the rise and fall of expectations and the mixing of the unknown. In this season I will learn a lot about basketball but even more about what it means to be a man. How one best approaches a goal. What pursuit fits which purpose. I write everyday but it is of no coincidence that I write considerably more during the NBA season. The bevy of ball breaks down every aspect into little crystals of knowledge I can put in my pocket and stash away until I have a family all my own. 

Without further ado...

WHAT SHOULD HAPPEN IN THE 2008-09 BASKETBALL SEASON

The old fashioned elite will fall to the ashes. Boston and San Antonio should go but probably won't. Dallas and Phoenix deserve another run but only one team will obtain it. I will refuse to wear my Dirk Nowitzki jersey because I fear I am kind of soft. Dirk will still score 23, grab 9, and go to sleep unsatisfied. Jason Kidd will make him feel terrible. Giving away the gold wasn't good for Dirk's psyche. 

Houston will rise and ascend...finally. I've been waiting for this team for years. Yao and Stevie. Yao and Tracy. Tracy and Scola. I believe in any incarnation. However, this is a team built on both logic and nastiness. Consider it the advent of Hip Hop Academia. Mix the stability of Yao, T-Mac, and Battier with volatility of Scola and Artest and you're welcome in any alley or lecture hall. 

The Rockets, Jazz, Hornets, Suns, Raptors, Pistons, and Heat deserve to win the Championship. 

The Cavaliers, Spurs, Celtics, Magic, and Bulls do not. The Bulls don't deserve to win another game. Ever. The Magic need to show more spunk to endear themselves, no one wants to be "potential" forever. The Celtics need to have some dignity. The Spurs need less dignity. The Cavs should move to Albania and end the ceaseless cycles of LeBron chatter. 

Matt Barnes on the Suns will be a spectacle for all to see. 

Rodney Stuckey will win 6th Man of the Year. 

Carlos Boozer will turn into a Monster and Deron Williams will feel slighted again. 

The Clippers will be a ton of fun and Baron Davis will learn something from it all. We will see it in filmic form by 2011. 

Basketball season is upon us...in a few days!!!

Friends, lovers, and countrymen,

One of the greatest times of the year is nigh. We are just days away from from the start of another NBA season. While it will most likely not live up to the astonishment of last season (up until the finals at least), we here at El Baloncesto (the possibly temporary name, what can I say neither Joel or I are married to it just yet) are still excited. We've been valiantly fighting off our need to spend most of our waking moments talking about the game we love so much (there have been a few breaks in the dam, but we've been pretty good).

Thankfully the time for restraint has passed. So join us as we attempt to blog about the NBA every day from now until sometime in June of next year. Will we make it? Who knows! But it'll most likely be fun to watch. I think.

Also fuck the Celtics.

Best,

Bryan