Tonight's High Man

GAME NOTES, Cavaliers at Wizards

2009-01-04T20:51:00.007-06:00

As a team, the Cavs played well only at the end, coming back from 13 to lose at the buzzer. But they were average the rest of the time. Mo Williams and LeBron were generally outstanding.

Big Z missing in action is noticeable. His absence brings forth the flaws in Anderson Varejao's game and the Cavs' general offense. Now when Brazil Laimbeer swipes at an offensive rebound, it is tragic rather than playing into the team's trial-and-error offensive mindset. The Cavs simply could not rebound when it counted. Head Coach Mike Brown 4th Quarter ejection may have affected the lineup decisions, however. Ben Wallace, anyone?

J.J. Hickson always looks like he knows how to make moves. Once he learns team defense, he'll be nice and may actually play in the second half.

Delonte West appears to have lost some confidence. He should wear white shoes. Or get a haircut. Stuff like that helps players like Delonte. What am I saying? There are no players like Delmonte Delonte.

This game was played at 1 p.m. 98 percent of NBA games are likely played around dinner time. It showed in both teams. There were great gaps in rhythm. Halfway through the 4th Quarter, Cleveland scored six, Washington three. Though the energy swung back up after that.

Michael James, Wizards guard, is a terrible decision maker. It appears he is trying to win a game of 32. Sometimes the greats can sneak a 2-on-3 hoop or a 1-on-2. Sometimes dopes can get lucky. But no one at the professional level goes 1-on-4 when you have a four point lead with two minutes to play. Except Mike James. That was just in addition to several hungover passes that found nothing but patrons and popcorn.

The Cavs came back in good form though, almost as they did on Christmas Day. LeBron's final three falling short. Had Z played, that shot wouldn't be necessary.

LBJ was also called for a traveling violation in this game. The commemorative NBA figurine will be issued next Fall by that same company who makes pewter Civil War chess sets.

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Our NBA viewing experience

2009-01-04T13:14:00.015-06:00

This is not about poor camera angles, ill-conceived graphics, or awful announcing. All of which get addressed, more or less, in the many quarters of online bitcheries. Rather, I am here to tout the new tech, hyper x2 ADHD watching steez that is modern life.

NBA League Pass Broadband Online is of good enough quality — finally — to see true detail of game play. So here's your home recipe:

Put on your chosen LP game
Keep the volume low, say a 2 or 3; enough to just hear the announcers
Pull up your music player with volume at 6 or 7; enough to get some bass
Play Girl Talk (or some other fast-paced, hip-hop oriented music)

This is how NBA is watched in the promised land, except you and Greg Gillis are at the game and everyone has Long Island Iced Teas that never leave you hungover.

Girl Talk works best with basketball because of it's pace changing and style referencing. Any thinker understands everything comes from something. In the NBA, in basketball, the moves made are references to prior tried and true laws of approach. Remixes, if you will. Alchemy, really.

Any mashup style of music "fits" basketball because of the game's natural rapid change of pace. The ball moves with a constant additive and subtractive energy, given so by the players; just as the DJ moves the beat, so goes the energy. Fast and high. Crescendo. Bridge. Cool interval. Banger.

A fade-away is a remix of a jump shot, which is a remix of a set shot, and so on. But today's basketball also has an intense neophilia amongst its players. It is ultra chic modern. It is the new shit. Always. Music like Girl Talk's top notch mashup album Feed The Animals brings that newest nouveau club rap together with 80s flashes, 90s grunge rock, funk, soul and epic rock classics — all blended in the modern sample-everything-fuck-the-labels ethos.

That IS modern basketball. Baggy shorts and headband, high dribble, bang low dribble back, free form drive, go high as you can and spin, dunk — bang the glass and do some shit with your hands that let's your folk know you know them.

Some real time occurrences for me:

Ben Wallace misses a free throw. "Hold me closer tiny dancer..." (Girl Talk, Smash Your Head.)
LeBron pins another sucker. Lil Wayne says, "I gotta eat, man, I gotta eat..." That is flared in with Sinead O'Connor's Nothing Compares To You.
DeShawn Stevenson wearing a grape juice velour suit and a bow tie, interviewed on the sideline saying that he doesn't like LeBron. Stevenson is the guy who sexes up 14-year-olds and whose high school teammates beat him up the night he was drafted. Busta Rhymes, "Bust your face, like Apollo Creed..." The Police's Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic and Ini Kamoze's Hot Stepper round out the magic. And then the NBA game goes back to live action and the song changes. Caron Butler. Argent's hippie anthem about dedication Hold Your Head High and Ghostface within Wu-Tang blazin' out C.R.E.A.M., "...Stayin' alive was no job..." (Girl Talk, What It's All About.)

[ABOVE: DeShawn Stevenson looking like Willy Wonka. He called that shit an "80s beanpie suit." Seventies, dude, seventies. BELOW: Ini Kamoze hot steps for you.]

Mashup music and the fluidity or basketball coincide with amusing significance on a pretty consistent basis. Though the idea of hip-hop or any bouncy, improvisational music applying to basketball is not new, and neither is the idea of watching TV with the stereo on, being able to cleanly watch NBA games on your computer is. Headphones further complete the symbiosis.

For those addicted to the NBA, League Pass, the flagship home viewing option, is a well known temptress, a deadly siren who takes otherwise productive time and lulls into slow sweet death. But this year marked a tipping point even in it's own technology.

League Pass was always previously offered in tiers depending on when you bought it. And in the previous tow seasons included the almost throw-away online component. But the technology has finally caught up with the consumer's buffet habits.

In my graphic design programs, I save certain workspace layouts. One named Full Screen and one named NBA. That's work plus music plus professional basketball. I'm drinking coffee and the television is on. I take no medication.

____________________________________________________

Taxes. So What? Notes from Cavs/Hawks

2008-12-14T19:08:00.012-06:00

We died. That's what happened.

Zombie THM now brought to you by:

G A M E N O T E S from Dec 13, 2008

Delonte West's anger management was superb at the 5 - 3 mark, when off a lolly gag pick he dribble drive dunked. Marvin Williams was loosely involved. Hawks score. Cavs back on O. Typical long possession, long offensive rebound, dribble around, pass in to Lebron far out on the left block against Marvin. Now further out. Further. Spin baseline and impossible fade on Marvin's average defense.

Dunk champ, Human Highlight, Top 50, Living Legend turned announcer/keeper of the "Dunk-o-Meter" Dominque Wilkins was stunned. "There is no defense for that."

The sideline camera panned to Williams.

—— "you SUCK, MARVIN. yoU SUCK, NI***!"

It was crystal clear through the replayable magic of League Pass Broadband. I rewound to remark the display. Atlanta is not known for it's formidable crowd or even engaged auidence. [Ludacris sited later though, reminiscing about Nique dunking.] This, however, was very engaged.

He would return later to announce the sucking of Walleye Scerbiak-ak-ak-ak [sic]. It was like a sideline reporter from a dollar theater on the dollar theater side of town.

- - - -- - - -

Let's kick it to Kevron now for a live report, Kev.

"Kick your face. Fuck you. One.

"Two. Lebron from [unintelligible]. Col' yokin' on'em. And the other thing is [cell phone playing T.I.]... the other thing is... Fuck, get this camera shit out of my face..."

Thanks, Kev. How about Joe Johnson's blah blah blah...

- - - -- - - -

Where is the NBA piano styled emotional enema where [---that---] happens?

Moving on to later action.

With 45 seconds left, after one long rebound and then a lot of hardworking ball movement (the Cavs love this offense), Delonte rushed a three from the corner to beat the shot clock. Josh Smith sent the shot so far into the crowd. So far.

Then in total ownership fashion, as he was descending toward his own hyped bench, and corkscrewing like a flare-out of the Apollo moon craft, he stretched out both arms. Reaching back with the claw that didn't get a chance to touch the blood of the ball, he somehow both swiped and pushed Delonte's face.

I like Delonte Delmonte. The Pienapple Splice is such an amazingly well rounded player. But the only thing worse than that would to be also urinated on.

Cavs lost, but so what? It was such fine NBA action and robust commentary.

Good to be back. I make no promises.

Cavs win in game refereed by Captain Crunch

2008-04-15T21:11:00.001-05:00

—and other existential notes exploring the black man’s authoritative role in basketball’s form and the white man's taxin'

Lebron did nothing. The Cavs blew their lead. They mis-communicated and under-performed. On the last play of regulation in Monday’s 76er contest, after a true basketball shot was made 76er Michael James, Lebron drove poorly and was blocked. Devon Brown was then bumped in a mutation of a play that didn’t matter. Everyone walks off the court. Then they walk back on to see Devon hit two free throws. What? Phili should’ve won, didn’t. Fuck it. Watch ESPN or something.

Devon Brown said after the win: “I couldn’t see anything or focus on anything. Emotional.”

“I just wanted to get it up in the air. And they went in. Hey?”

Cavs announcer Antoine Carr said he had “ice water in his veins.” More like gummy bears.

Why Ohio teams love to win seemingly finished games via technicality is beyond my comprehension. And that sucks because winning by the whistle is cheap.

The other homer Cavs announcer Fred Mcleod said Samuel Dalembert had “the look of a man who committed a sin.” Tears hadn’t formed but his face did have the upturned salad look of imminent sadness. That and Sam raised his hand, but in the deafening confusion limply let it fall as no one knew what was happening.

“Sin”, eh? The foul is the sin. Basketball is the thing. The rules are the boundaries of the thing. Basketball’s rules could change anytime and we’d still have basketball. God is life, society its boundaries. We could change society anytime and still have life.

We could easily change it.

But we don’t. Society changes stupidly and with hiccups and riders good ol’boy networks. I’d like to stake claim on the overall kindness in the white man’s culture, but he certainly has a lot of pedantic rules that seem to kill the essence of an activity’s intent, like enjoying life or understanding that in the matter-of-factness of basketball the hand is part of the ball and sometimes players just run into each other and that's ok.

Which leads me to this question.

If the black man had invented basketball, would there be fouls? If that is incorrect and someone shows me that the sport was in fact invented by the black man, fine. Whatever. Then the question remains, if the black man had control of the game, would there be fouls? Or at the least, would the foul structure and referee regulation change. For the better? For the worse?

Presumably if Obama wins the election, some change will come in this country's societal structure. It seems obvious that if any black person had some true power, he would change the prison hierarchy straight away. So many men and women get wrung by our system, mostly because of drugs, poverty and mis-education. These are all fouls, but should they mean you can't play? People who like three-strikes laws — white men in power — say yes.

Talk about the phantom foul call of all sins: drugs. It makes sense drug addicts be dealt with medically and not criminally. It makes sense that two people running and jumping next to each other at top speed might touch. Yet each is dealt with criminally.

It doesn't make sense that so many shady-ass dudes (drug suppliers) have a lot of power in this country just because we don't want to part with some bogus anachronistic ideal of leftover puritan dreck. It doesn't make sense that refs have so much power. Yet each is left to his own devices?

The players play. They decide. Fouls are not basketball. Fouls are rules. They can be changed. The beauty of the game is free motion, not arbitration. The essence of basketball is the round ball, running, jumping, throwing, aiming, teamwork and individual creativity. We can change anything but that and still have basketball. Foul shots are more like croquet anyway.

Double bonus, team penalty, one-and-one— scrap it all.

Why should there foul outs? Jeff van Gundy is the only guy I’ve ever heard voice it, at least in a live broadcast, that it’s ridiculous players foul out.

Damn right.

Take a step out of basketball culture’s shoes and think about it terms of weighing all the action against all the consequence. It feels like a fly-by-night rule someone thought up just because there needed to be a rule. Like it was 1893 and the first ever rule book went to press at 8 a.m. the next day, but the scribe was busy boffing. That’s seriously how shit gets started in this culture. A screw up makes it to print and sits around for a hundred years, its perception gilding with time. To those in the greatest generation and the boomers, the older and more irrelevant something becomes, the wiser it is. A precedent it is.

Bullshit it is.

In the microwaveable Ramen cup generation, it's wack that some industrial revolution era opium fiend slept in and never correctly crafted a penalty structure, and now here we are in 2008 stuck with Devon Brown’s gummy worm cool winning a kangaroo court. I think Devon Brown is gay. (Devon, if you’re not, cool. I am not saying I have proof, I am just guessing you’re gay. If someone said about me they thought I was gay, I’d just be like, ‘Whatever, I know I’m not and my girlfriend is the smoke.’ So, if you’re not gay, I hope you just say that and move on. But if you are gay, I fuckin’ knew it.)

----------//

P.S. Everything I feared about the Cavs trade is coming to fruition. Staph infection in Z’s brain coming next. Four doesn’t replace two and Delonte is the golden pear, a legend, a myth, a bygone tale of treasure and catastrophe.

Will Starbucks Save Basketball?

2008-04-15T07:34:00.002-05:00

Finally someone is stepping up and telling David Stern and Clay Bennett to stop robbing Seattle of their basketball team. And that certain someone just so happens to make a delicious caramel macchiato ("caramel, espresso and steamed milk makes this a signature Starbucks drink")

"Starbucks chairman and CEO Howard Schultz, who sold the Sonics to an Oklahoma City-based group led by Clay Bennett, will not seek monetary damages, but wants the team back, according to his attorney, Richard Yarmuth." - full article here.

Yes - the owner of Starbucks , with enough money to sue God herself, is going after Clay's OK regime. And I couldn't be happier. Hell, he could call them the Super-Howards for all I care. I just think Seattle's getting a raw deal.

photo caption: sooo many similarities between these two.

Now I won't feel so bad supporting a coffee mega-corp. Wait, I never really did. That coffee is damn good. MMMMMMMMMMM... Tastes even better now.

photo caption: I just couldn't resist.
this broad's hair is dope and he's the best muppet ever.

Phantastical Staph Infections

2008-04-14T07:34:00.000-05:00

photo caption: my rogue cleric is kind of a 2/3 slasher with tremendous upside.

1. My b-ball fantasy team is "battling" for third place. And by battling I mean "after I was knocked out of the championship I switched back to an all-homer squad." So welcome aboard Daquan and Conley! I can honestly blame a staph infection for my poor performance. Back in the early goings of the League season, Kenyon Martin had a staph infection in his ass. Seriously. With those knees, and a staph infection in the tookus, I waived him. With a quickness. Then his ass recovered and went on to have a career-year. Whatever. Like you people give a rat's ass about my fantasy team. (ZING!) But it leads me to my next point...

DO NOT GOOGLE IMAGE SEARCH "STAPH INFECTION"

2. Browns' WR Joe Jurevicius has a staph infection. Are we starting this already, Browns? Dammit!!! Really?!? We lead the league every year in these infections, I swear. NOTE TO SAVAGE: GET JANITORS. And keep our players out of the river, would you? At least until the stiches are removed. You'd think this is common sense.

photo caption: The New 2008 Browns Logo Finally Unveiled

3. Lastly, and certainly most completely related, is this gem of a find of the fantasy baseball waiver wire. Angel Pagan's fantasy notes are this summer's must-read... "Pagan is a good pickup in all formats as he is now hitting .387 with 10 RBI." ... "Pagan hit in the leadoff spot over the weekend with SS Jose Reyes out with a hamstring injury." Angel Pagan is making big things happen for the Mets- how does he do it? Here's a few guesses: (1) Astral Projection (the Monroe Technique, of course!) (2) Power Animals (3) Goddess Oil.

My guess is #3, but Angel's not returning any of my texts, so really I have no way of knowing.

photo caption: totally killing it on my fantasy squad.

Sit Down, Damon Jones

2008-04-11T07:34:00.002-05:00

Reportedly and statistically, Damon Jones is out of Mike Brown's rotation for the playoffs:

"As Cleveland Cavaliers coach Mike Brown has tightened his rotation for the playoffs, he has again decided to stop playing Damon Jones. There is only enough room for four players at the guard positions, and Brown is going with Delonte West, Daniel Gibson, Devin Brown and Wally Szczerbiak. Mike Brown made the same call regarding Jones in each of the past two seasons.... Jones has struggled in certain defensive situations (editor's note: ALL DEFENSIVE SITUATIONS) during his time with the Cavs, which has contributed to the coach's decision. " - full "article" here.

photo caption: even GP thinks you are terrible to be around.

Checklist for decision-making:
1. Damon Jones is a defensive liability. always.
2. Wally's good shot is back. thank God.
3. Boobie is back. thank God.
4. And Damon is just plain annoying. always.

Well played, Mike Brown.

Jiminy Christmas! (or) How I Learned to Hate You Cricket Wizard

2008-04-10T07:34:00.007-05:00

How I fear you, Wizard.
For now matter what happens now,
we will meet in the first round.
Your tempest spells; our +2 leather armor.

So top in college-
So amazing in League Play!
How have you been traded so many times?
Pray your hip flexor flexes you yet again.

Stay down Wizard!

STAY DOWN.

death don't play - keep away

Take A Hint, Steven A. Smith

2008-04-07T19:34:00.010-05:00

Heard today on 1460theFan that Steven A. Smith has just lost his ESPN radio talk show... this coming in the same year that he lost his "Quite Frankly" ESPN television talk show, as well as his sports column at the Philadelphia Inquirer that got him started in the first place...

Now's your chance Steven. Time to change the game.

STOP YELLING AT PEOPLE.

People get yelled at all day: by their bosses, spouses, parents, kids, angry drivers, etc... When people come home to watch SportsCenter or basketball, they don't want the pattern to continue. It's a game Steven, and it's supposed to be fun.

Steven, listen. You can call me if you need to talk. But don't start yelling, ok? Cause I swear I'll just hang up. You're not the only one who's had a long day today.

btw - happy 50th post, THM.

Chuck Liddel Wishes He Had A YouTube

2008-04-07T07:34:00.002-05:00

photo caption: K-Fed looks to save Iceman the trouble.

Evidently, Chuck Lidell has a problem with the popularity of Kimbo Slice... and maybe the new deal with CBS.

“I could make some impressive knockout videos too if you let me walk outside and just punch people and knock them out—“hey you, come fight!” Liddell told The Sun. “F*** we can make a highlight reel tomorrow and go round beating people up and talking about it. We could just go up to people and start dropping them. Wow!”

Yeah. It's called Bumfights, Chuck. Get the internet.

read it all here. (thanks Unkie Matt for the link)

Kaniel Dickens, Cavalier.

2008-04-07T07:34:00.001-05:00

the following is a real email exchange between Fil & Boombox regarding Kaniel and this photo...

F: that's his real name and he plays, currently, for the cavaliers

B: best chest passes ever

F: except when you catch it, the ball is flat and your hands are bleeding. And Kaniel. Just. Keeps. Running. At. You. "We're on the same team! AHHHHHHHH........"

B: "NO KANIEL NO! DAMMIT KANIEL!" it's why he never stays out of the D-League for long...just realized his name would be cooler if he was daniel kickens. maybe that is why he is so mad all the time. simmer down dude.

F: totally, that was the first thing I thought. His real name sounds like an accidental pronouncing. Of course he throws it as hard as he can every time.

* * * * *

if he reads this, we are totally dead.

Presented as hilarious, unto itself

2008-04-05T19:07:00.002-05:00

Yo, check it yourself.

Don, that is your real card for life. The shitty thing is he was the first dopeness from NY, even before Pearl. And his nickname was Slick, which is right up there with Fast and Two Times as least trustworthy nicknames. Although Slick enjoyed actively improving the community and is still beloved in Seattle. Thourh you could argue that just means he's satisfying the requirement to be slick.

Why the card doesn't say Slick, who knows? Apparently everyone called him such. Maybe the Topps brass had something against Slick, like he slept with the V.P.'s daughter after she went to a game. Topps sure didn't do him any favors in the pose.

Also, look in the background of that card. I bet those Sonics teams sure had fun bake sales. 'Slick, who put the mescaline in the banana muffin again?' Then they all laugh because each did.

Slick was also the first dude to really rock the headband, not just wear it. Peep the decoration? Wayne Chism is gnashing.

Slick, in honor of your fine choices in personal ornamentation and Chris Paul actin' bitchmade and truly birthing his self into the next Isaiah, you're injury-addled but 'super good dude' career makes you Tonight's High Man— that and the new Cavs bums are sooo pissing me off. And Sonic love may be a dying endeavor, so....

... to an OG THM, SLICK WATTS!!!!

This is Worse Than Roger Clemens in the Owner's Box

2008-04-02T19:34:00.004-05:00

He's Back.

"Showing a flare for the dramatic, Arenas waited until the 5:30 mark of the first quarter of the Wizards' game against Milwaukee on Wednesday night to emerge from the locker room in uniform.

He entered the game 9 seconds later to a big ovation and scored on a reverse layup with 4:49 left in the first. It was his first points since Nov. 16 against Minnesota."

When I search for dramatic flare, know what I find?

Tonight's High Man Is...

2008-04-02T19:34:00.002-05:00

Pau Gasol. (take notes, Adam Morrison. and insulin. zing!)

why?
1. Cause he's pretty dern good.
2. He was traded for his own brother. Like an orphan. Or indentured servant. For some reason I really admire that.
3. Cause the photo above even exists. AND especially this one.

I love you NBA.

Tonight's High Man Is...

2008-03-30T19:34:00.000-05:00

Souksangouane Phengsene. This guy can't be stopped.

5 bucks to the man who can name the origin of this name - cause guess what? it ain't on geneology.com... imagine that.

RIP Malik.

It was the spiders

2008-03-30T17:13:00.008-05:00

— NBA rock legend J.R. (don't call me names from the Bible) Rider arrested in stolen car

Now, J.R. Love, as we all know, invented the East Bay Funk Dunk, which is legend because it was the first world-witnessed spectacle of a through-the-legs dunk. The technical savvy in the art has been since elevated in the software upgrades of Vince, another J.R. (Jason Richardson), Gerald Green and... on and... Soon someone is going to do a flip and the EBFD will be but a coffee stain on the Final Summation.

J.R. gave us such Lawrence Taylor-esque gems as claiming he could be found hanging out on street corners shooting dice with his friends in Oakland because — of course — those are his friends and that's what they/"we" do.

And now he's stealing cars and racking up cocaine possession charges. [Sigh.] Doing coke with J.R. seems like it would just be a nightmare wave of never-ending repetitious fragments aimed generally at you about how fly he was.

J.R., you just wanted to get too close to the sun. Too high. Too fast. Too young. All that rock. All that dust. Back to Mars, J.R., you were too hot for this world.

The story of the first true Rider sure was entertaining though, if truncated and peppered with ill decision. It's comforting in a twisted way to know that little J.R.s like Richardson and Smith are out there abiding— takin' it wild for all us easy goers. Indeed, to one of the greats:

_____________________________________________

Oh, yeah, Filly the Grid is getting up and getting stronger getting stronger GETTING STRONGER in the brackets. All you MFn Freddie Fall Offs can eat it up 'til you hic' it up. Did anyone else hear Billy Packer talking about high-cotton during Memphis-Texas garbage time? Racist.

Anyone anyway?

2008-03-27T19:38:00.005-05:00

Tonight's High Man: Lebron James. The King said of his Vogue cover with Ms. Jizm: "Everything my name is on is going to be criticized in a good way or bad way. Who cares what anyone says?"

Appreciate that. Zen. Everyone in the world can say that about their self at any time. But to say it from within the magnitude of a spiritual pressure in which only a few humans deal, that is some flowing robes brilliance. Sometimes Lebron seems like such a caricature, a new jack MJ in the sales racket, saying the right thing, turning the triple profit. But then he does something like drop a koan, or walk up and introduce his self to Tiger like a regular adult greeting a co-worker— and Tiger is certainly that.

Together Tiger and Lebron run separate departments in the business of athletic stardom; topline models, no garage-station knockoffs.

How are you doing in your tourneys? I'm 164 out of 171 in this ultra competitive Asian league that cuts the ass cheeks off the last-place finisher. I got solids coming up in the sweet 16 though. Please god, be solid.

Now, in the spirit of the tourney, THM presents some ol'-timey college yack-em.

______________________________________________

Axis: Ball as Love

2008-03-26T19:34:00.004-05:00

Hendrix Set to Enter The NBA Draft.

Bill Walton stoked.

Chris Webber R.I.P.

2008-03-26T19:34:00.001-05:00

R.I.P. Chris Webber. I'll hardly miss you.

Wait - he's not dead? Merely retired? Ah hell. He's still dead to me.

Take it away, J.A. Adande!

"His career can almost be defined by what he didn't accomplish: never won an NCAA championship, never played in the NBA Finals, never won a Most Valuable Player award, despite all of that talent. What will end up as the high point of his playing days -- two trips to the NCAA's championship game in two years of college -- isn't even recognized by Michigan because of a booster payout scandal. Gone. Not there. Stricken from the record."

I can't believe J.A. left out the failure of his rap album, "2 Much Drama."

(I did NOT Photoshop this. This is actually real.)

Things are Going so Well.

2008-03-19T19:34:00.009-05:00

I thought the trade was a gift from Yahweh him/herself. Fil thought is was blasphemous. Somewhere in between is probably the truth, and in the end, no one knows whether this move will turn out good or bad for the team. Until we truly know, all we can make are judgments based on statistics and outcomes. And how many hearing-impaired players are on your team.

Well, we've gone and signed a deaf man.
To play professionally.
For the Cavs.

I'm serious.

Look, I'm all about this kid finally getting League pay, living the dream, and ultimately helping Cleveland to the playoffs by giving our 4 bigs a big rest before the playoffs. But the headline alone worries me: "Cavs Sign League's First Legally Deaf Player"

Right now, somewhere Damon Jones is pissed because he always considered himself the Cavs' most deaf...

Actually, all the other Cavs consider the new guy pretty lucky -

he can't hear Damon Jones talk.

Delonte West is Cinemax

2008-03-18T13:13:00.000-05:00

ESPN featured Lebron talking to Tiger Woods at the Orlando Magic's house Monday. The ol' nba.com doesn't even show it. But the highlight du jour was Delonte blocking former St. Josephian Jameer Nelson — on a fast break that started because Delonte tried to find Big Z with a time warp pass attempt-gone-turnover. This was sometime around mid 3rd.

But there was even a show before that. Delonte spun out of everything around him, over and over, like you just kept hitting the spin-move button — each time you got the ball. And Delmonte, the Good Fruit, kept getting rebounds. He always seemed to get the rock out of a muddle in the paint. He was an illustration of energy at high control.

Accuracy at scatterbrained rates is what has always attracted me to sport. But what DGF did is not what ESPN shows us on its abasement parade of dunks and final shots that zoom in on the ball so no one sees what's actually going on in the place where the activity is happening. Sidenote: Instead, sports videographers have been taught the baffling technique of zooming in on the one inanimate object around which the game is played. They think this is brilliant but all it does is take us to the one dead zone in an orgy of live drama. What Delonte does, some may say, is only to be noticed by the sports pedant. I say he's doing something right there for everyone to see, pop culture just chooses to focus on shock and awe. That's not a condemnation, per se, I want to see dunks too. But, and this is why owning the LPass or having NBA TV is so crucial, Delmonte Fruit spinning back and forth and dribbling behind his back 90' from his own basket to start a fast break is fucking amazing.

And they'll never show it again.

This is why the sports argument wins over the counter argument raised by girlfriends that dedicating time to watching sports is the same as watching reality television. They replay that shit until the advertisers' palms are pruned. Sports happenings happen once. If notably iconic, clips of a few plays may live on from an entire year of playoffs. On the long timeline, only a few seconds of life carry the entire history of even the most noted sports and their so-claimed and sometimes deserved "defining moments." All the other bits of spectacular are only reviewed by austere historians. In essence, this is what makes ESPN Classic a good idea. Not that it's executed well.

So, from a forgettable Cavs loss, gone forever is the 'double L'Emmanuelle': a spin move so luxurious they only made it in Europe, but in the late 90s a template was stolen, only to be re- lost somewhere in urban East of America. We know who found that tape. And it ain't Walleye ScerBRICK.

Big 3s and dunks will always get the bands and waves, but the grand marshall always remembers the face of one small boy waving in the crowd, not the plaque. No one asks if you'll tell them about the plaque, they want to know what happened around it. They want to know who you had to fight dirty against, where the extra gas was hidden and why your gutter perspective is gleaming.

History doesn't record the perfect moments, it keeps its own files in terms of things like plaques and stats and highlights.

Recognize and Rest In Peace.

2008-03-14T19:34:00.016-05:00

First, I can't cleanly deny Fil's assessment of Wally to the Cavs so far - and I admit I am too much of a homer to clearly judge what his affect will be on the team. Hell, I even have him on my fantasy team. And through statistical data, that's partially why I can't ignore that Fil is actually making sense here.... Wally is shooting 32% since joining the Cavs. He shot 46% with the ~~Super~~Sonics, and was their 2nd-leading scorer behind Durant. Last night, he played 12 minutes.

But here's what doesn't show up on a stat sheet:

Crazy.
Latrell Sprewell is pulling Wally away from a fight. A fight with Gary Payton no less. I LIKE THIS. I don't like how low Wally jumps, but I love that he backs down from no one.

And so it goes- the ups and downs of ol' Walleye. He's on his 3rd team in 2 years. He just had his third child right after being traded. He's tired. (I'm tired.) But calling him bitch-made, Fil? No. Wally's mother is a fine Spanish woman. DeShawn Stevenson is bitch-made. So is Bruce Bowen. And so is Tiki Barber, but I don't have to present evidence to that last point. The first two, please allow me to demonstrate, to Fil and the world, what truly is "bitch-made."

Case Point #1 - Bruce Bowen. (Case Point #1A why I hate the Spurs. Points 1A-3L to be presented at a later date)

! !

The look on his face after the call (not even on him), and the subsequent suspension (so very long overdue) -and hell, just the way he sounds on talk radio. What mother made you? I hate your cheap shots, you are not invited to my party.

Case Point #2 - DeShawn Stevenson (aka BooBoo Dooden's BFF from O-Town)
This week DeShawn Stevenson of the Wizz called Lebron "overrated." Read that again. Here's the proof. Please DeShawn, take your beard and go back to Oakland. They need you there doing Civil War reenactments. You'll play Abe. I'll be Wilkes-Booth. Is it a date?

When I read it again, I can't help but hating the ~~authors~~ bloggers as well.
Seriously. Look at these faces:

One of these busters said the following: "He (LeBron) also didn't like getting knocked to the ground by Brendan Haywood late in the game. The foul wasn't all that bad but James reacted as if Big Brendan crushed him. He had that scowl he gets and he was looking at the ref like the guy forgot to mow his lawn or something. If you remember, Brendan gave out a similar hard foul in the playoffs during the 2006 series. For a guy who always talks about how he played football in high school, LeBron sure doesn't like contact."

"Like he forgot to mow his lawn or something."
Insert eye-rolling emoticon here. Seriously, you guys are fags.

Now for a couple of personal notes:

1. I started architecture school this week, George-Costanza-style. Expect my input to be mas limited. Fil, pick up the slack. Or maybe Big D or Dr. Passion or J Rhodesia would like to join the ranks. Invites are needed o'blog-master.

2. RIP, Mac Morrison.

so awesome they even named the gym after you.
I wish I got to know you better.
...I'll be in Bucyrus for the funeral.

so for now, Happy Saint Patty's Day. drunkards.

And I can't find work? Anderson Varejao = Brazil Laimbeer

2008-03-11T13:13:00.003-05:00

So, sorry I haven't been around to comment. I missed you, but hunting for a job is the shittiest of all the jobs to have. But there've been so many high men out there lately that my absence, dutiful or not, can no longer suffice.

Terrel Prior being made into an action figure: amazing. And the fan who got too excited about Lebron's fiddy, Monica Seles anyone?

First I want to announce the the nickname of Anderson Varejao. I've been referring to him as Brazil Laimbeer for two seasons and it needs to hit the internets — BIG — because he's finally hitting the jumper. And he shoots it on his tip-toes, just like the original Laimbeer, the lame beer.

You know what's fuct about the picture above? It's only from last year. And just for the record, I hated Bill Laimbeer. When you call someone at school a "fuck" — he's a "fuck". And that's his game, he stood in the lane and tried to fuck you. Varejao is an equal but opposite Laimbeer, he stands in the middle of the lane waiting for you to fuck him.

Laimbeer is white, Varejao is Brown. Short straight hair, long curly hair. Even number, odd number. But both are lanky, duck-footed with soft-hands and a knack for stirring frustration.

Also, I like Sideshow Varejao. Laimbeer, as much as he was easy to hate, was a doGGG and he was vital to the Bad Boys signature. Varejao is that for the Cavs. Every other team hates him and even some Cavs fans hate him, but he's our Brazil Laimbeer, and when the Cavs win it all in two years, he'll be there hoisting the trophy... while laying on the ground.

Brazil Laimbeer. Spread it.

____________________________________________________

I'd also like to reiterate my fears about the Cavs trade, the most deep-seeded of which is that the Bulls turn it around, make the playoffs as the 6 and defeat Cleveland in Round 1. LBJ's points are up and his assists are down. You know how a degree or two temperature change, on a large enough scale, is devastating? Those stats are the tells of basketball team chemistry plate tectonic pressure. Somewhere deep within the Cavs structure, a crack is fissuring.

Delonte is nice though. He's a red-haired, lefty, tweener who is perfectly cogent but sounds a little like a short-bus version of Tim Meadows' Ladies Man, with a strawberry on his lower lip. That's Free Darko as far a I know. Inventing another short-hand descriptor would be redundant. Delonte and his FD-ness makes plays, and despite his waif silhouette he gets up on the glass.

Please stay healthy.

Fuck ScerBRICK. Anybody who sympathizes with him 'n his is bitchmade. Joe Smith has been interesting. The other night Ben Wallace had four rebounds in the first 5 minutes. He finished with 6. Asshole.
____________________________________________________

The Phoeniz Suns mascot is choking on the gunk in his throat in this amazing anti-tobacco campaign that seems to've learned nothing from the Just Say No ads that created a generation of Yes.

The gorilla raps. And there's separate sections for "Talk to Us" and then the more free form "Rap to Us". The best is the site is called personalfoul.org and there's no Rasheed. It is an anti-smoking campaign I s'pose.
____________________________________________________

Finally, this week's THM is the group of illegal immigrants who sewed the word "Los" on the Suns and Spurs jerseys before Sunday's contest. This collage is dedicated to them:

Notes from the Heat Wave.

2008-03-10T19:34:00.002-05:00

1. More awesome news for fans of Miami basketball (I am not one of them) - Dwayne Wade is surprisingly hurt again, and Pat Riley is too busy to coach because he is so into March Madness. Go Heat!

2. Earlier, in a post where I ripped the Houston Rockets after Yao's broken foot, I also took exception to the rest of Houston's roster. I called out Tracy, Rafer, some other dude, and Carl Landry. Well, Houston has won 18 straight and Carl Landry is balling out of control. Touché, Carl. Touché. Happy to motivate you. For the record, some other dude can still suck it for all I care. I hate you Texas. All of you. If I could give you back to Mexico, I would.

3. Bill Simmons wrote a great "what if" piece on the League. SO great. remember Jay Williams from Duke? Should have been you, Kellen Winslow.

I Heard Cat Stevens Hates the Olympics too.

2008-03-07T07:34:00.001-06:00

link: That dern Dalai - what a gossiper!

Remember the Titans

2008-03-05T07:34:00.004-06:00

1. Remember Theo Ratliffe? The Pistons signed him, to play professionally. The rest of the League holds its collective breath, waiting for Joe Dumars to yell, "SIKE!!!" Keep waiting, this is real. "It's been a great journey, I've been on a lot of bad teams," Ratliff said. Hmmm, I wonder what made those teams so bad? Dumars has also added Maryland champ Juan Dixon, a rare black man with Spanish name. His parents were drug addicts, so no one holds that against him. If I could have picked my name, it would have been Elton.

2. Remember D Miles? I barely do either, except that he had a sweet "antlers" type celebration with Q Richardson when he was on the Clippers roster ... and those overweight years in Cleveland. Word is he has played his last game for the JailBlazers. Count me as not surprised. The Blazers seem to be doing fine without him (except that they still pay have to him), I doubt they would take any chances screwing up their team chemistry. Where will he land next? Safe bet: the Knicks.

3. Remember Robert Swift? Seattle's honkey high school center and 12th-overall pick in the 04 Draft? No one does. Not even Seattle. "Swift is currently the only white player to ever be selected straight out of high school to the NBA." Thanks Wikipedia! Well, he had a successful surgery, but when it's your 3rd, I wouldn't start calling them successful. He is only 22, but at some point, pro teams need to start looking at how all these big men fare at such a young age in the League. (more Oden, anyone?)

4. Remember Tony Battie? He's the guy who saved Paul Pierce's life after that stabbing incident in Boston. (Paul was stabbed 11 times in the face, neck and back, Battie drove him to the ER) Tony's set to return to the Magic here very soon. He's under the radar, but he's actually a pretty good Big. He'll add some depth to Orlando's front court before their playoff run. And if nothing else, you know he's got Dwight Howard's back. And if DW is Superman, is Battie... Jimmy Olsen?

5. Remember PJ Brown? excuse me, Collier Brown Jr.? Everyone's still talking about how the Celts picked up Sam Cassell (38), but they also landed PJ (also 38). PJ was a 3-time NBA All-Defensive Team (is that real?), and his favorite actor is Denzel Washington. He said Paul Pierce and and Ray Allen talked him into coming back. Last year the Celtics were one of the youngest teams in the league. This year... "seasoned" maybe? Venerable? How about just plain old?

Weekend Notes - Joga Bonita.

2008-03-04T19:34:00.018-06:00

Weekend notes? Yeah, it's Tuesday. I know. I voted. I'm awesome. My amazing weekend officially ended this morning at 10AM. I had rollover vacation time I needed to use before it expired, so hello Spring Break 2008 - since Cancun tickets are so over-priced I started this week's Spring Break festivities just like the Birdman would. Is this supposed to make sense? Game vodka, double-headers, freelance, kielbasa. Dr. Bob, Big D and I went and balled up Como Park. Who knew grapefruit & vodka is the new Propel? Joga Bonita!

On Saturday my esteemed colleague and I, Dr. Bob Passion, watched League play, the double-header that featured both Lebron & Kobe. Good afternoon? Why, thank you! The early game is the East coast game (Cavs v Bulls, post-trade), followed by the West coast game (Mavs v Lakers, post-trades). Here's what we learned:

1. East Coast basketball is hard on the eyes. It's the warm-up game that gets you ready for the 4'o'clock game. Both teams looked terrible, till Lebron turned it on in the end, proving he is the best player in all of League play. Until the 4th quarter, who really cared about this game? Larry Hughes? Only 40's and Dominos kept us afloat for this crapfest. Cavs win, I am happy. Let's do laundry.

2. The West Coast is the Best Coast. Not in rap, but in basketball, who can argue with that? The Mavs v. Lakers game was infinitely more entertaining from start to finish. Talent, teamwork and competition, on every level this was a better game. No surprises: Kobe & Pau, Kidd & Dirk. Excellent all-around game. Joga Bonita!

It was 60 degrees yesterday. Supposed to be 19 degrees again this weekend. I love you Ohio. 6 days left of Spring Break Paradise remain! Wish me luck guys!!!

It's Time for the Birdman to Fly

2008-03-04T07:34:00.009-06:00

Tonight's High Man is Chris Anderson, long-time weirdo and newly reinstated member of the ~~Charlotte~~ ~~Oklahoma~~ New Orleans Hornets. He got kicked out for using any/all of the following: methamphetamine; cocaine; LSD; opiates, including heroin, codeine and morphine; and PCP.

surprising.

More awesome facts:

"Known as "Birdman" for his high-flying dunks, Andersen was a fan favorite among Hornets fans. He is best known for his performance in the NBA's dunk contest in 2005 when he needed eight tries to finish his first dunk.

Andersen was the first player kicked out of the NBA because of drugs since Stanley Roberts in 1999."

I remember watching that dunk contest. He looked right into the camera and said, "it's time for the Birdman to fly." Then he missed 7 dunks in a row. and he's 6'10".

Welcome back, Birdman.
The ceiling on this season just got a little higher.
I think this is the final push the Hornets needed to make that title run.

I was really hoping the Hornets got this Birdman though. Just sayin.

Eat A Dick Clay Bennett

2008-03-01T07:34:00.014-06:00

Clay Bennett = Art Modell

I've been through this. My friends, family and I lost our Cleveland Browns to a self-centered owner back in the 90's. (editor's note: if I see you in public, Art, I will razz you and your whole ice-cream crew. but lucky for you, Baltimore is a subjacent city- I ain't going there anytime soon.)

It's happening all over again to Seattle. Check out this simpleton:

By now we've all heard that the Seattle ~~Super~~Sonics are more than likely leaving Seattle because of billionaire-owner Clay Bennett. My opinion falls in line w/ ESPN smart-alec Bill Simmons, who this week collected angry emails from ~~Super~~Sonics fans around the globe. His statement here sums up my feelings pretty nicely:

"After being part of the city for 41 years, the Sonics are being stolen away for dubious reasons while every NBA owner and executive allows it to happen, including David Stern, the guy who's supposed to be policing this stuff. I think it's reprehensible to watch someone hijack a franchise away from the people who cared about the team and loved it and nurtured it through the years. It belittles not just the good people of Seattle, but everyone who loves sports and believes it provides a unique and valuable connection for a city, a community, family members and friends."

Read part 1 and part 2.

Then pray that David Stern gains the testicular fortitude to not allow this to happen.

The Vernal Equinoctial Year

2008-02-29T19:34:00.005-06:00

Not the 20's film starring Fatty Arbuckle. I'm talking about the intercalary year. Look dog, we need it ok? In order to keep the calendar year synchronized with the astronomical or seasonal year.

Only on the extra day do we find life possibilities such as this:

1. The possibility of Jim Nantz doing colour-commentary on Kimbo Slice. CBS + Elite XC? Hopefully this will replace How I Met Your Mother. Don't know Kimbo? Here you go. (thanks for the update Unkie Matt)

2. Fellow Alien-life-form Sam Cassell maybe reunited w/ ol' running mate KG in Celtic-Town. This pretty much sucks for fans of all other hopeful Eastern League teams. He's 38 though- will he make a difference? In response, Rondo dishes 16 dimes. Oh snap! Take that pussy cat!

3. Walleye has a leap year baby??? Wolves fans saddened as a hero fails to come home. yet, the perfect ending.

Pat Riley's Fantasy Land NBA

2008-02-27T19:34:00.001-06:00

This guy:

Became this guy:

Who all the while has been culturally morphed into this guy:

...and who later has to relate to guys like this:

(note the look on Riley's face)

This is not a video game. This is not the 80's. Pat Riley is out of touch. Recent evidence you ask? He gets Daequan Cook in the first round of the draft this year- a young kid from Dunbar (Dayton) who was a bench player for last year's 2nd place Buckeyes. He didn't start in college and was drafted in the first round. He is a young, raw talent. Probably got a little attitude problem. Fine. He went from Dayton to Dwayne Wade in 2 years. I get it. But you know who doesn't? Pat Riley.

Riley sends DQ to Iowa to play D-League Ball for a 5-game stretch and states the following: "It’s really about Daequan getting there and saying, ‘Yes, sir. Whatever it takes. What do you want me to do? How are we going to do it? I’m going to play hard and play as hard as I can. I’m trying to get myself ready,"’ Riley said. "So we’ll see what happens in five games and then we’ll make a determination from there."

I understand his intentions. I do. He wants to send a message. He wants to see a change. But Daequan's NBA rookie year has been made up of exposure to the following teammates: Ricky Davis, Smush Parker, Mark Blount, Jason Williams (see above), and the recent addition, Shawn Marion. soooo.... 5 games. In Iowa. "Yes, sir. Whatever it takes." Get real.

Reticent, but rewarded

2008-02-27T13:13:00.003-06:00

SWTFG, this is the best thing I've seen out of the Cavs trade yet. Since becoming somewhat national with St. Joe's, I always liked Delonte West's sideways game. Ghostish, out of place, but deadly in areas I tend to appreciate: creativity, being out of place, floaters, DE-fense!, a preter-awareness of self that lends to becoming oblivious.

Highlighting all of that is this (def pay attention around 3:20):

______________________________________________________________

So this is how it is. With the Cavs. To me:

Ben Wallace is a liar. Walleye is a pessimist. Joe Smith is a successful and kind-hearted drug dealer shadow man. Delonte West is sinister.
Drew Gooden is BooBoo Dooden, fully equipped with one of worst sets of decision making machinery God had ever wrought. Larry Hughes is the original sad clown— fragile psyche, teardrop tattoos and all. Ira Newble slept with Danny Ferry's second girlfriend. Shannon Brown filmed it.

Those are the good things.

Whereas Steve Nash was behest by the heavens after Lucifer recalculated. I mean, the Lakers getting a gift and the Suns buying theirs, that was organic. Memphis wants to die. All totally natural. Bibby out of Sacramento: Time for the Hawks, time for Bibby. Makes sense. Kidd out of NJ. Fine.

But this Cavs move was like CWebb to the Warriors. Or Damon Stoudamire to the Spurs. Square peg, round hole. It's like, "Why?" I saw how Shaq's counter-force could Bring the Suns out of the West where their past contra-Shaq style had not. It was centrifugal. But Webber is so not what the Warrios needed. It is alien.

Here are my fears about the Cavs' yahtzee:

Larry Hughes can ball, deep down inside. He recently seems to've woken up. And Mark Price was working with him on his shot. I'm concerned we traded Larry "Howard" Hughes right as he was about to payoff, a la the Bulls trading Tyson Chandler as the thermometer popped. Plus, even if Mr. Sensitive was a painful liability on offense (until recently), he covered tough. He always was there to play tough D.
Delonte's game is a dangled carrot. It's a mirage. You think there's something special there. There is. And it's always looking at you in street clothes.
Ben Wallace paints his self as a hard working, lunch pail kind of guy. But he really acts like a fucking princess who always thinks she deserves more... like a shooting guard. Except, as we all know, Ben can't score at all. So, he whines, doesn't produce, and complains how to do his hair. His low post game is the Matthew Lesko of the NBA. His nickname is Big Ben. He literally has hands like a clock.
Ira Newble = lockdown D.
Walley Scerbceees = front-iron jump shot, jog up the court, tussle hair, smooth hair, get scored on, jog back down the court, wait for it, wait for it, front-iron jumper... [repeat].
Donyel Marshall is eating ribs. His career is over. Cool. Whatever. Happy trails. Burn free, brother.
Shannon Brown refines his purely athletic game and becomes a Plasma-Donation-Line version Dr. J.
Joe Smith hangs out with Damon Jones at a strip club. Oh, wait, already happened. In a month they'll be smoking crack with each other. In two months Anderson Varejo will be hooked on crystal meth. Sasha Pavlovic is missing. Boobie replaces meals with pills.
DooDoo Booden can hit the open jumper consistently. And weird shit motivates him.

All these fears will be moot when the players who left are revealed as StarScreens, coupled with Lebron transforming all the arriving players into motherfucking Megatrons.

REJUVENATE

More Finger Waving in Houston.

2008-02-26T19:34:00.002-06:00

Already having to struggle (heh) with the loss of Steve Francis this season, Houston's hopes at a League title have taken yet another blow. Injury has befallen the gigantic and foreign feet of Yao Ming.

"This is unbelievable," Rockets owner Les Alexander told KRIV-TV in Houston.
"This is the most heart-breaking. This is the worst I've felt."

Well good Les. Because you are rich and from Texas, so I hate you. It's not like your 12-game winning streak was going to last forever. One, you are in the West. Two, you have Tracy McGrady and "Skip 2 My Lou" on your roster. Oh, and Carl Landry. and Steve Novak. Whatever. It's not like you were getting out of the first round anytime soon.

But for the rest of us fans, there is a silver lining is this dark cloud of broken chinese feet. We get more Dikembe Mutombo's finger waiving and superlative command of the English language. I think we are ALL winners today, my friend. Even you, Les.

They'll Give a Blog to Just About Anyone.

2008-02-25T19:34:00.002-06:00

this guy has a blog on nba.com :

Only people on drugs write like this.

What's Missing?

2008-02-25T19:34:00.001-06:00

So far, this year's NBA season has been highly entertaining. Blockbuster trades both in the off-season and at the trade deadline, the return of the Lakers and Celtics, my Cavs getting players I can actually root for, and quality regular season games where it actually seems like both teams are trying for 48 minutes.

But there's a whole in my heart.
What's missing from this, the finest NBA season in recent memory?

It was originally thought that Arenas, arguably the craziest player currently in the NBA, would return this month w/ Caron Butler to make the Wizards somewhat of a respectable team again. But dude is just not ready.

These are just a few reasons why Gilbert Arenas is missed. Aside from the tiger face tattooed on his stomach (see above) that looks like it's whistling. And aside from the fact that he recently admitted to cheating at Halo 3 online. "Gilbert wears a size-13 shoe on his size-14 1/2 feet because he’s afraid of making his feet look too big."

Of course, you can dive right into his psyche here.

The Pudding of Proof

2008-02-23T07:34:00.006-06:00

Last night, what's left of the Cleveland Cavaliers defeated the Wizz of DC. The game was profoundly entertaining for more than a few reasons. 1, What better way to prove that the trade was the right move - we obviously didn't need any of the warm bodies that we dumped on Chicago and Seattle. 2, we won w/ last minute D-League signings and a whopping 44 minutes of T.O.'s best friend. (dot biz) The proof is in the pudding.

Damon went 7-11 from 3. And he looked like this in the process:

Not really a good thing. but I'll take it.

------//

FILKAP: And... D-league call-up Billy Thomas shot 11 3s himself last night. This game was a control group experiment in an attempt to determine Lebron's greatness. The fact that Damon Jones and a kid from the DL could EACH take ELEVEN 3s in a game which the Cavs still win proves that Lebron is not just equal to one great player, he is actually several great players that only take up one roster spot.

------//

BOOMBOX: good point. I forgot to add this from my earlier research.
looks like the Wizz didn't protect their pudding cup.

I Love You Danny Ferry

2008-02-21T19:34:00.001-06:00

OMG. THIS IS REAL.

Danny Ferry, I would like to thank your balls.
And thank Chicago for being so stupid.
and Seattle for being so cheap.

Welcome home, Wally. You silly Spaniard you.
I may actually get cable television in my home.

Chinese Water Torture

2008-02-21T07:34:00.003-06:00

The Knickerbockers are looking good. Isiah really has this team gelling.

! !

I think what makes this video so great isn't just that Zach Randolph and Nate Robinson are amazing teammates, but the way the video itself is presented. Book-ended by by an advertisement for "RealestNiggas.com" while also including a random photo of a chic standing in front of a Jim Morrison poster. This things got some real internet power!

somedays I really miss college.

In other related news, look what is about to start the next arms race:

the cold war 2- electric boogaloo. coming this summer!
fucking Olympians and their damn McDonalds.

one more random note for today: Juan is back!
too bad I don't care about baseball anymore.
but I do have this card somewhere in my closet:

Juan, please stop depreciating its value.
this was the Jackson Pollock year for Donruss.

Steve Dakota & His Grill

2008-02-18T07:34:00.001-06:00

Somewhere in Marion OH is a real place to eat called Steve Dakota Grill. Somewhere in the title of the "grill" is an apostrophe and an S, but where those lie, I will never know. Is it a Dakota Grill owned by Steve? Or is Steve's last name Dakota? I order the only mediterranean dish on the menu and stare at the decor, 80 percent of which is real taxidermy. They say Steve shot it himself. the other 20% is antler chandeliers and antique movie posters about hunting in Africa. I drank a Red Stripe. The caesar salad had a hard boiled egg in it, no croutons. whatever.

We arrived at four. A woman turned 56, such an occasion demanded we be there. Early dinner. I would be able to catch the League's All-Star game at 8pm back in the capital city, maybe sing some karaoke in the process. I figured I would work on my "Word Up" by Cameo while the game was on (appropriate)- but it was all for not. Steve Dakota and his grill had rendered me moot. Instead, I droned away on the couch barely watching anything while sipping a mason jar filled with Seagram's Gin, Pellegrino, and lemon juice out of one of those little plastic bottles that looks like a lemon. I could have seen Xavier's David West in his first All-Star game. Or maybe it was Bret Michael's Rock of Love - Mud Bowl 2. I couldn't really tell. Really there are a lot of similarities when you think about it.

The few things that stuck out in mind about the League's weekend: Dwight was the only guy whose shirt was tucked-in at the dunk contest's introductions - I'm positive he won because of it. Steve Nash was rocking Nike's new recycled shoe, "Trash Talk." (uh, ok) - and Lebron's dunk in the end where he put the game away while karate-chopping Dirk in the neck was the MVP moment of the game. Seriously. No one cared about Basketball Jesus 2.0's (5) 3's in 19 minutes of play. It was the karate-chop.

One final note: worst all-star game jerseys ever. ever. depending on which way you are running down the court, you could be on either team. sounds perfect. I mean, the game is meaningless, right?

Notes thus All-Star; Black Superman's Earthly powers come from orange ball

2008-02-17T13:13:00.006-06:00

Are you kidding? NBA legend poster. I felt five years old, watching Superman be real.

An hour after this, still vaguely thinking about the awe it filled me with, I was sent a txt msg from my friend Fro. It was Flight School Jordan. Pre-NBA-championship, post-dunk-champion Michael Jordan, wearing a towel over his head; the music attached was Pat Benatar's "Love is a Battlefield," which starts so nostalgically with, "We were young..."

Fucking amazing. Because this is the new shit. This is isn't flying up from an earthen plane, like Mike Air had it. This is Black Superman descending upon on Earth. This is big shadow first.

Dwight jumped up, not out, from far away and THREW it through the basket. A friend of mine used to dunk like that in 8th grade, on 7' hoop. Black Superman's dunk is not so much a jam as it is an affront to gravity and it's demon spell over silly inanimate objects.

As I've said, as we all know, Jordan is forever frescoed, but now there is a new category beyond anything MJ could do. It's the only category exclusive of MJ, the Dwight Howard category. Michael created his own category, which tides of players visit for their own games. Every player's game has some Michael in it. No one has this Dwight Howard. Amare has a uniqueness, but has never exploded in imagination like this. Black Jesus and Black Superman jump into a bar...

Then there's Gerald Green:

Rudy and Jamario: "What is he doing?" Dwight: "Fly, fly, fly fly..." Gerald: "[Pictures a Houston girl he used to fuck], burgers, fucking, jumping, destruction."

I would've liked to see more Gay Moon and less Gerald Green. He is from Houston, so he's constantly pointing to his awful forearm tatt and throwing out the double-H. And he's missing his right ring finger. So, this gesture of homage to place and placement simultaneously draws attention to and distracts away from a mysterious injury which Green is sensitive about. (It happened when he was a child.)

I just feel bad for him, him and his dopey look of a supremely abused but talented and brooding teenage boy. Some people exude... blankness. When you look in their eyes, there's a Nothing back there. When Gerald green is running and jumping and competing physically, the Nothing is absent. But as soon as he has to answer a question and construct an opinion — Blankman.

He signed his stupid shoes and gave them to Darryll Dawkins, who rightly threw them to the floor. Unbelievable. Totally entertaining though. This sounds like I hate Green, but I don't. He has poor critical thinking skills. But the Birthday Cake was a sweet dunk. Get it?

I was hoping for more from Rudy. I was convinced by the Rookie/Soph game of his anachronistic game. It's totally ABA. And he's named Rudy. With different shoes, tattered socks and an old camera Rudy Gay could be 1977 in a thousand moments. With that huge glossy smile!?

HEEYYYYYYYYY!!! GUYYYYYYYSSSSSS!!!!!!

And how about the Texas star himself? Boobie.

He shaved the star into his head prior to winning the MVP of the game!!?? Is this a kid's movie script from the late 80s?

LeBron has been talking about how good Boobie is since early practices. When Mike Brown finally played him on some reg minutes, it elevated the Cavs past any prior conception. LB was equally prescient about Sasha Pavlovic, who equally aided the Cavs play.

So, does anyone get the feeling Mike Brown just kind of orders Chinese food for everybody when they stay late, and during games his job is to remind them how many timeouts the Cavs have? His team has Death Wish LeBronsen. What coaching is he really doing? "LB, hit'em with the uzi this time."

Here, Daniel Gibson shruggs off his player ass balln skillz with a grandad-nerd-in-a-teenage-superstar body:

And finally, Rudy Gay's favorite uncle and third mixed son share a little about touching, when and how.

(images from www.nba.com)

No Kidding pt.2 - Jerry Can't Shut Up.

2008-02-15T07:34:00.001-06:00

First there was wow. As a master of the english language, let me be the first to proclaim this as wowee-wow-wow. so what do you think Mark Cuban is doing right now? I have a guess, but there's just not enough time today to Photoshop a picture of Marc Cuban bitch-slapping Jerry Stackhouse. It is Friday people. Seriously, some people have plans for the night.

Happy Valentine's Day

2008-02-14T19:34:00.005-06:00

"I can't afford R. Kelly."
...maybe now you can, Delonte. Life-size.

Valentine's Day Flashback: enjoy.

No Kidding - George Bitch Slaps Dallas

2008-02-14T07:34:00.002-06:00

well played Devean, well played.
I wouldn't want to be on Vince Carter's team either.

"Money, I get it, paper I got it.
Heaters, I keep em, bitches I got em." - truth

Pat Tillman Wants a Raise.

2008-02-12T19:34:00.000-06:00

seriously? I'll keep this short because no blog can harness the disdain I possess for Kellen "I'm A Soldier AND a Stuntman" Winslow.
(and "Tha U" en general)

maybe you forgot about this:

and all this:

You're right. WE totally owe YOU. dick.

Please Sip on Larry's 40.

2008-02-12T07:34:00.000-06:00

After not having cracked the 20-point mark this month (and only twice in all of January), our beloved Larry Hughes went off for 40 points on the Magic, in Orlando no less. Where the hell have you been, our 12-million-dollar man?

(x2 = no way)

Now I could go on and on and on and on about how disappointing Larry has been for my Cavs, especially after how sick his game looked for the Wiz during the (contract) year before we signed him. Whatever. This blog sums it up pretty well.

But now Larry has put together a nice little month as the trade deadline approaches. Hell, he even made my fantasy squad. And the Cavs still NEED a real point guard. period. I mean, I do love me some Boobie, but seriously. We have Shannon Brown (?>why), Gibson (ok), Hughes (not a PG + overpaid), and this asshole:

(chinese shoe deal + he is a dot biz)

So here's my wish list:

1. Jason Kidd. PROS: playoff experience. veteran. still has game. easily the best PG on the market. knows the East. wants out of the Nets organization. CONS: beats women. (photoshop con) racially unsure of self. old (34).

2. Mike Bibby. PROS: playoff experience. veteran. still has game. merely old-ish (29). CONS: worst tattoos in the league (con?). racially unsure of self. seedy entourage. used to wearing the color purple.

3. Andre Miller (my personal choice) PROS: led league in assists w/ Cavs in 01-02. knows the East, and Cleveland city-scape. 76ers want to trade him. CONS: issues w/ BMV. we traded him for D. Miles (unforgiveable?). old-ish (31)

4. Sam Cassell. PROS: playoff experience. veteran. still has game. wants out of Clippers organization. (surprise) CONS: alien-life form. mouthy. hard to look at. real old (38).

Please, Danny Ferry, TAKE YOUR PICK. Make a move and unload some of these warm bodies on a sucker GM. The last time you tried to "get Lebron some help," you acquired Larry Hughes, Damon Jones, and Donyell Marshall. Please right these wrongs and bring us a point guard. Larry's 40 is getting warm.

Today's "Why you stay in school" hard lesson, brought to you by 2002

2008-02-09T13:13:00.000-06:00

Thanx to the Boombox post, 2002 feels so close, and yet eternities ago.

First, this is the list of all the players considered "early entry" for the 2002 draft. In that list are few recognizable names. (Who's surprised Qyntel Woods came from JUCO?)

Lebron James would be on this list just the following year. And finally after 2005, no more high schoolers. No more lives recklessly baited and switched. Well, less lives, and less recklessly.

Looking up the "other" names on the 2002 list reveals little, and frequent references to volatility. Then there's ill guided arrows like Lee Benson, Jr. He's from Dayton, Ohio's roller-rink of urban trash and rural soot — also the intersection of two of the greatest highways in this country, I-75 and I-70, which incidentally made Dayton a huge truck-stop hooker paradise for the big mob years of the 50s-80s. It's like halved Akron. What does that have to do with Lee Benson, Jr.? Read this 2003 "from Prison to the Pros" article by Tom Worgo.

The unknown LBJ somehow was playing at a Kansas community college? At 28? To his credit, he was killing it.

Where is he now? From prison to the pros, to Europe, to prison?

What about this cat Kei Madison, fellow preemy? Let me give you a lil' treat. The Google image results for Kei+Madison.

I especially like it in redacted form: eight black guys who hate you, four queer whites, this:

, two fairies, two equal but opposite Asian women, Oscar Madison, two crazed Euro cyclers, and two kitties.

Wow, Google, you are the best fucking free ride around.

Type in Cincinnati+Chili, go in deep.

Taking a tangent, I looked up Scottie Pippen, to see if he was on one or both Dream Teams. He is on both. But also:

Derrick Coleman and Shawn Kemp were on the '96 Dream Team.

Let me reiterate:

Derrick Coleman and Shawn Kemp were on the '96 Dream Team.

Those Olympics were in Atlanta. How much cocaine did those two do and how many strip clubs was it done in? All of it, and all of them.

Pip is their kind of guy too, but you know, I like Pip. He's not quite as Eazy E as those guys, and he was far superior at the actual game. Michael Jordan, legitimately, is a wizard (later a Wizard). Pip was his falcon. That's a special relationship.

Just sayin is all.

Back to the early declarers. Free Darko had talked about how warped and short-sighted announcers had become in calling college games, tunnel visioning on the potential of professional results rather than watching basketball for purity of basketball. Mike Connelly could be talking about winning a national championship this year, instead of playing in an arena where the lights are purposefully half-lit to keep costs down. And the only cheering is from the tourists they let in for free. Where would MJ be if he'd declared after a year at UNC? No '82 jumper over Georgetown.

But MJ would still be the frescoed chapel of basketball greatness, regardless. In the same way Lebron will be. All the other Wally Pipps could at least have taken a few classes, maybe discovered they like management or some other corporate drivel, something that could fulfill a life sans the ball court dribble. How does the love of the game and the economics of the game ever balance? The 2002 early-entrant list illustrates something so much realer; guys who aren't living the dream, but who had lived in dream and now are in a night-terror life playing semi-pro ball in Turkey, or one of the 'Stans. If you declare early or go for a one year carnival ride at the holiday college of your choice, does that mean you're in love with the wrong side of basketball, or are you just aware of your destiny? Are you an asshole for taking away someone else's chance at an education? Is high level basketball not superior knowledge of a physical discipline?

Anyone who really read this, and who is thinking ahead, might distill it and say something like, "For every Lebron, there's 100 Lee Bensons."

I look at it and say, since I'm degreed, I'm crafting a letter to declare eligibility for the 2008 draft.

Flux Capacitor in Texas

2008-02-08T19:34:00.000-06:00

This just came in.

Truths:
1. Steve Francis is paid to play professional basketball.
2. Steve Francis plays for the Houston Rockets.
3. Steve Francis is out for the season.

Wow. What year is this? I wonder what is on his iPod right now. I'm gonna guess... Master P.

now go get yourself some ballin ass wallpapers. thanks EA!

To Begin Again. Again.

2008-02-07T19:34:00.000-06:00

HOOPLA!

Lost in the shuffle of recent NBA trade shockers is the unlikely architecture of greatness deep within the smoky hills of Dolly Parton’s home.

YES. The Grizzlies have plucked two once-highly-heralded BIGS from the rummage sales of our great nation’s coastal basketball outfits. YES! (2) League orphans have been fastened together like the Duncan / Robinson Twin Towers of 90’s Tejas. YES!!! Darko and Kwame are the new pungent sparkly 4 and 5 of the Memphis Grizzlies.

Your table is ready! “Success, party of 2?”

The undeniable existence a young black boy named “Gay” playing professional ball in Tennessee acts as a distraction for development- these two outcasts can now fly under the proverbial radar of TN’s basketball fan base. No one will heckle them as it was in Detroit, DC, LA and Orlando. They will grow, together, expectations floating distant in the dirty Dollywood wind. Wipe away those tears Mike Conley Jr! This is what you left early for!

Good Man seeks Big Dog

2008-02-06T13:13:00.000-06:00

The Diesel-to-the-Desert trade illustrates my theory on how directly affected Nash was by the Gasol-for-cake trade.

Nash sought the one armament capable of disarming Kobe. Now, Shaq is a poo burger, a day-old poo burger, but he's the anti-Kobe: big, slow, out of shape, hilarious, never premeditated, no true basketball skill, dominant without trying... He's perfect for disrupting the precision calculations of Kobe Bryant.

Ever see the episode of Gilligan's Island where the Harlem Globetrotters (what?) end up stranded with the crew of the SS Minnow? And, somehow, the Globetrotters have to defeat a basketball team made of robots or everyone gets syphilis or some shit. Because the Gs want to give their most supremely focused effort — remember they don't want anyone to get syphilis — they decide to play straight up, by the books, tough as they can.

But the robots kill'em up in the first half. And the Professor realizes that only the Globetrotter's true style can defeat the robots, because it is free form, silly, impetuous, pointless at times, and, best, random. So in the second half, they go back to the OG Meadowlark Lemon shit and it's ball-on-the-string, slider dribble, and alley, alley, alley-oops all around. The robots end up steaming or something ridiculous. And Harlem's finest get off the island while the crew remains stranded. Typical. No syph though.

In this throw-away episode of G.I., we can see why Kobe can't be around Shaq. He can't process him. It's not that Shaq is better than Kobe, especially in terms of technical ability, it's that Shaq is a mahogany puddle of basketball abstraction. In terms of the way a robot would be programmed to handle basketball, i.e. Kobe, talking to girls sitting on the baseline is errata. A missed dunk is not cause for laughter. "Error. Error. Cannot compute this emoticon." Then Kobe has to reboot.

This trade has Nash written all over it — him screaming in the locker room to the heavens. He knew Marion would be somewhere else next year regardless (and he still will), and Marcus Banks — Mateen Cleaves has better J than Banks. Nash gave up something big for this. Something personal. A child's ear or other equally craven talisman.

It's amazing how subtly brilliant it is. At first glance, the trade certainly appears absurd. Phoenix is one of the top three running teams in the Association, and Shaq is seemingly in direct opposition to that. Seemingly. The Suns don't want Shaq to run. He doesn't need to for their ultimate success. He just needs to be there so Kobe cannot correctly parse syntax.

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Zeus, Gestalt, The Villain and The Hero

2008-02-02T13:13:00.000-06:00

Pau Gasol lands in the Lakers purple and gold for two first round draft picks, a chocolate eclair, a mystery box, a dead guy, and an "other Gasol". Said Grizzlies owner Michael Heisley, "Remember to have your pets spade or neutered."

Somewhere forgotten sits Kwame Brown. Suspect. Emotionally fragile. Like a kicked dog. Puffy. Compromised.

Try to imagine being Kwame: handpicked by basketball's Zeus, who then deems you lame; you are invoked from Hades by the game's dark reflection of Zeus to play with him, under decree of the god who made Zeus — so you're playing for God's dad — and then they also cast you out; in Memphisto you are now basketball's Hephaestes, the lame blacksmith given the Universe's prize beauty only as a hoax. It's like finding out the woman you fell in love with on a first date was paid $250 an hour by your friends. Except it's your life.

Maybe Michael Jordan has an eye for talent after all. Letting Kwame go was a fantastic decision. When the Lakers battled the Pistons on the last day of January, Kwame played the kind of defense that lets Rodney Stuckey dunk from outside the circle. Then on the last play of the game, Pistons up one, Lamar Odom inexplicably — wait, Lamar Odom makes it completely explicable; so scratch that. Because Lamar smokes a shit-load of modo everyday, he passed it in to Kwame Brown with four seconds left. At the top of key, Kobe stands in disbelief, "I have 37! What?!" And the look on Kwame's face, as he nervously squeezed air out of the ball, is not what you want on the face of an an athlete — let alone an NBA player — at any time — let alone moments of conclusion.

And now that he is in Memphis, all I can think about is how much this hurts Mike Connelly. But the future remains potential, and Kwame is young. If he realizes the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, the hammer inside him can still swing through. Because deep within Kwame's psyche remains the fierceness of a grizzly. If Jerry West can keep him believing that, Kwame can be superb. That, and if he learns how to catch.

But the Lakers have no such issues. Whether Kwame becomes an ultimate success has no effect on today. Kobe, Lamar, Bynum, Gasol and a goat would practically be a lock-team for the Western Conference Finals. And the real supporting cast is way better than just a goat; they're like three goats, and some dogs, but they're all super-talented and work together with a weird goat/dog "I know you, you know me' chemistry" that stunningly gets a lot of shit done. It's some kind of onyx wizardry conjured by Kobe and Phil Jackson to keep feral beasts whirling poison shards at attackers.

And got Pau Gasol for the cost of a bad song? How?

I can just see Kobe — perhaps life's most deliberate and pre-calculated human — lifting PVC goggles to his brow, taking a metallic elixir off the Bunsen burner, exclaiming maniacally, "I have it! I have it! The Dead Foes Potion is comPLEEEETE. No one can stop me now." Tony Starks is playing in the background.

And a few hundred miles away in the desert: Steve Nash, pissed. This was his year. The Spurs are mis-oiled. NOOCH doesn't have the scars. Bay City still has too many inner-wolves. Denver is making mix-tapes. The Mavs will jail themselves. It is not LeBron's time. The Three C's are mighty, but can be felled. Same as the Pistons. This was to be Steve's last assault with the topography perfect.

Now the Last Good Man must look at the Western horizon with disgust. 'How many more times can we fight without feast?' As his club flexes for what may be their last real chance at a title, with the current nucleus, before the next wave gets too high to overcome, the cracks in his previously unflappable veneer are scaling from an empire not realized. With each season he looks less a Hero and more an also-sought. If he stares at near-glory again this year, in 2009 his skin will green.

_________________________________________________

However, none of this will pass if Kwame unleashes the sleeping giant, and the Suns prevail. Then it will all be gravy under the bridge. Memphis will rejoice from the lust of getting a scoop. And Steve Nash will finally fulfill the protagonist's destiny, having vanquished the dragon that kept growing heads. Nash and Brown, invisibly bound, will be vindicated. Kobe and Phil, already crowned, will simply take Gasol and the demons back to the lab.

Yet today has all effect on ultimate success. Steve Nash and Kwame Brown are independently facing near identical tasks. Because of this trade, this swoop of the heavens, both have been thrust to confront finality. Both have zenith or nadir as the only option. With the way their careers have unfolded, there are no moral victories. There are goals. To have your soul's pure Work only be remembered as an ornate piece of entertainment candy, even if excellent, is the ultimate personal incest.

_________________________________________________

MLK-day Holiday Buffet

2008-01-22T13:13:00.000-06:00

The NBA: a lot of chocolate, some sugar (likely imported) dusted in for posterity, and a healthy dose of green leaf.

And with that, here are some generalizations, sweeping assumptions and deadly observations — in round-up form! — about the NBA’s annual homage to the King:

_________________________________________________

Milwaukee v. NOOCH (I know the Ok. City is gone, but I refuse to let NOOCH die)

The Bucks looked sweet... for five minutes, just like every game. Whatever Michael Redd does before tip-off, he either needs to stop or continue to do it before each quarter. What star scores 13 in the first, four in the second, and ends with 19? A half-star. And did you know the muck-filled hole salmon dig, to lay eggs in, is called a redd? Keeps getting worse for OSU Buckeyes.

Milwaukee actually has enough man-for-man talent to be considered beyond "rebuilding," but they all play like they hate the city of Milwaukee. Which they do. But it was all moot against the NOOCH. The Hornets are making the next step and the Bucks are just glad tomorrow is almost yesterday.

Today's "What’s Wack about the Association" — because of the anemic East, the Bucks may have an easier time making the playoffs than the far superior Hornets.

_________________________________________________

Celtics v. NYK

The last time the Celtics played the Knicks they won by 45. This time: 16. Leading the league in moral victories: Nate Robinson.

_________________________________________________

Pistons v. Magic

I wasn't able to watch as much of this as I would've liked, but saw what I needed.

I love Rasheed, and future posts will illuminate why he's the most entertaining player in the Association. But on the last shot of the game, who cares about rebound position? Rotate over and disrupt the shooter! Sheed was too busy thinking about his special post-game brownies (wink), or post post-game donut (wink-wink).

_________________________________________________

Heat v. Cavaliers

When you take a Shaq, wipe your Heat.

Dwayne Wade walks like Eddie George did at the end of his Titans career, limping and constantly stumbling. He only pushed himself because LeBron was in town. Though he played superb, he had to work soooo hard digging jump shots out of the Big Shaq Hole offense.

Shaq looks like a St. Bernard who drank one too many martinis during brave rescues of the past. His hips hurt and his vision is suspect. That’s Ol’ timey.

And what does the [Dr. Martin Luther] King mean to you? LeBron James: “It’s self explanatory.”

Brilliant? Or a throw-away thought meant to give time for composing a media-appropriate answer? Still, intentional or no, he essentially said his being is only as result of Martin Luther King’s being.

Later in the bricklayers union meeting, where a Heat/Cavs skirmish broke out, we heard LBJ say, without looking at his head coach but loud enough for him to hear clearly, “All right, all right, King James here ready to rock ‘n’roll.” The Rock ‘n’ Roll H.O.F. is in Cleveland. James has dissed the Browns and the Indians, but he’s Cleveland’s (ugh, and Ohio’s) best shot at some title.

Brilliant? Insignificant coinciding of ideals?

Either way, LeBron is in touch with spokesmanship like Michael, and just as big a ham and poor actor. But he’s a better speaker. Do you know what those qualities translate into? LBJ — President James 2030.

_________________________________________________

E.J. v. Charles

Barkley legitimately despises E.J. The Jet could care less about either, but likes jobs. It’s funny when both Charles and E.J. look for separate cue points of approval from Jet, who manages to assuage both by doing the Sanford & Son shoulder crimp and slight eye roll thing.

_________________________________________________

Nuggets v. Lakers

This Nuggs/Lakers All-Star classic was great. The first 10,000 fans each got a complimentary hot sauce, and the last 10 minutes of game time were designated for arts and crafts — with chances to participate in live-game alley-oops.

Kobe continues to defy all categorization. He must sit at home wearing an MF Doom mask while breaking the algorithms of logic widgets. The Madvillain only made five shots, but was sensational throughout with his ebullient display of Globetrotter-esque passing.

---//

Are we welcome?

2008-01-20T15:13:00.001-06:00

Wow, the critical first post: what we are now and where we'll be going, all packaged nicely. 2008? I wonder what took so long. And I am a writer by trade. How ridiculous is it that this is my first blog effort, ever? Well, no one knows when the first post from the Universe came, and It still matters. (Because it's matter!) [ZING]

If you frequent this site, you can expect discussion of:

NBA
NBA
NBA
football
athlete absurdity
athlete absurdity
NBA
physical genius
hip-hop
basketball as metaphor
style
NBA
spacial disobedience
quantum physics
NBA
athlete absurdity
Bettys
NBA
NBA
'other'

Tonight's High Man, as a name, is reference to any athletic competition having a leader, or 'the high man.' And every day ends in night, so the most of a day is tonight's high.

THM, as it will exist, was actually born out of the desire to express what isn't expressed in The Media. I'm kidding. But writing here will view what is rarely observed but plainly there to be seen in viewing professional and high-level-amateur athletic endeavor. Acting as a sort of catalyst for this was favorably viewing the arcana of Free Darko and the loose system of only vaguely related sites — some sport, some not — which are around it, McSweeny's, With Leather, etc.

But I especially became uncomfortable reading FD posts — not because they weren't interesting, but because of the writer's accomplishment under duress. Which made me feel lazy. Namely, he posted through school. I just received a Masters as result of the past year's coursework, but I always felt too crushed by workload to really invest in writing a blog Right. Though I still managed to fund a half season of League Pass, thus watched plenty Association.

And the years before that I was up so high in to space, and didn't have League Pass. They're moot.

So now I've realized writing it Right doesn't matter. That, and I'm jobless so I've no excuses relating to time. Though, does anyone? So, now we have Tonight's High Man; officially it starts on January 20, 2008 because that's when I can justify justifying to myself that I can afford the half-year League Pass.

In the spirit of fair trade, here's full disclosure of my team allegiances:

THE Ohio State Buckeyes (look, I know), Midwest Professional Basketball (Cavs, Pistons [with Rash Weed and WaaaaaaaaLLLTTERRR "The Doctor H" HERRRRRRRRRRmmmmaaaaannnnnn!!!!!!!!!], Bulls, Milwaukee), Cleveland Browns (petitioning the NFL to be the Super Browns) and NBA Players.

Teams with enough players to make plays I like watching:

Bay City Barrios, The Three Guys Who Play for the Celtics (and Rajon Rondo), the Patriots (better than video game teams), Suns, Memphis (college and pro), NOOCH, Lakers (best villains), Wiz, Nuggs, Blazers, Bobcats, ESPN Classic.

Unwatchable:

76ers, Pacers, Big 10 basketball/football sans Buckeyes, Heat (unless you want to laugh out some schadenfreude), non-post season baseball (unless its live), anything on E! or with O.

Hope this post orients THM and the blogosphere. If not, just think of THM the way you would think of Martians relating to Mars bars. Related, but not. Not in opposition or apposition, yet together. Nonexistent, and existent, maybe. Nothingness, and being. Celestial, and sweet. Big, and brown.

NBA

? > What

---//