Yep, it’s the playground video that’s sweeping the nation. In which, Stuart Tanner, the unassuming Brit makes Devin Harris, of the NJ Nets, look bad. Really bad. After Stu misses his opening throw and Devin makes his, the NBA pro guard feels comfortable enough to toy around with the young bloke. In fact, Devin, takes his first shot without even a dribble. Oh, but this Halloween, it’s tricks, not treats for Mr. Harris.
Greg Tanner (presumably Stu’s brother) marvels at the overwhelming response and tries to set the record straight here.
“…I threw the ball with two hands at first, then developed an awkward jump shot, a crossover dribble, absorbed in the same solitary moves hour after hour. By the time I reached high school, I was playing on Punahou’s teams, and could take my game to the university courts, where a handful of black men, mostly gym rats and has-beens, would teach me an attitude that didn’t just have to do with the sport. That respect came from what you did and not who your daddy was. That you could talk stuff to rattle an opponent, but that you should shut the hell up if you couldn’t back it up. That you didn’t let anyone sneak up behind you to see emotions—like hurt or fear—that you didn’t want them to see.”
-Barack Obama, Dreams From My Father
I’m staying in a lodging facility that places peace and quiet above all else. Thus, there is only one television here. After sneaking out for a couple of hours—to a nearby sports bar—to watch the Warriors/Hornets and Clippers/Lakers games, I returned just as the Barack Obama television event was reaching its conclusion on the community TV. He had just sounded the rallying cry of his campaign’s final week: “We must choose our better history.” And after the perfunctory God Bless America, the room had gone quiet. Until one woman in attendance uttered the phrase, “I hope he’s the real deal.”
This made me think about basketball. It made me think about the games I had just watched. But more specifically, it made me think about the psychology of the game and how this particular sport, more than just about any, cultivates an absolute desire to be the man. Basketball makes you want to be the guy who gets the ball in the last two minutes. The guy who even the most talented teammates defer to. The guy who gets announced last, when the scoreboard is flashing highlights and the game announcer summonses his best ring-announcer hyperbole.
That guy. Basketball makes us want to be him. Like no other sport I’ve ever played.
And yesterday I watched two games simultaneously, my head ping-ponging back and forth between flat screens watching four players vie for recognition as the man. On screen one, we had Stephen Jackson and Chris Paul. Screen two, Baron Davis and Kobe Bryant. Each screen, a showcase of contrasting styles in the man-ness. Each screen a collision of different measures of hubris and frailty. The absolutely critical swagger of self-assurance counterbalanced by the even more absolute weight of the odds against. Which, in the case of these four black men took me back to my beach reading from earlier in the day, to a particular observation made by Barack Obama.
“At least on the basketball court I could find a community of sorts, with an inner life all its own. It was there that I would make my closest white friends, on turf where blackness couldn’t be a disadvantage.”
Reading this quote and the one cited earlier a little differently—considering the “post-racial” Obama politic through the lens of basketball—I was struck by what it infers about the possibility of an Obama presidency. Read More »
Finally, the NBA season has come. And not a minute too soon for the pogonophobic. San Antonio coach Gregg Popovich has finally sheered his scruffy shrub down to a more tightly-cropped and manageable moss for the regular season. Or, as the FTBers might say, from a “Grizzly Adams” to love ballad era “Kenny Rogers” beard.
J.E. Skeets heartfelt eulogy for Popovich’s training camp beard can be found here. And, for the romantics, Kenny Rogers’ “A Love Song Collection” is only $12.97 here.
Yes, he’ll have an extended contract, but whatever healthy, youthful exuberance Don Nelson has going into this season will be gone by December. Mullin will be drinking a Don Nelson-sized scotch on a one-way Jet Blue flight out of Oakland before the season’s over. Monta comes back, but involved in a protracted legal battle with the team - Rowell considering voiding Monta’s contract, saying Monta only looks to be 98.7% of his former self. Stephen Jackson will convince Rowell to trade B Wright for Marbury, and Starbury will be this season’s “Chris Webber,” but crazier.
And….
What do you think the 2008-2009 Warriors Season will be like? Let us know.
Oh, PS - Good luck with your season opener too BD. That Laker defense last night was CRUSHING.
Just to really drive Hater Tuesday’s home this week, here’s one more for your consideration before the November 4th day of reckoning.
It’s not like you needed, or even wanted, this image in your brain, but this one page ditty gives us a window into the Oval Office with Palin as President.
Former Reebok pitchman and “office linebacker” extraordinaire Terry Tate has apparently come out of retirement for one last hit. Personally, I loved these spots and could have extended “Terrible” Terry’s career by two or three years if Reebok had given me the keys to the company ad budget. Nonetheless, the Bush years being what they were, Terry faded into oblivion along with the market for big-hitting office enforcers.
Thankfully, Terry is still available for some freelance work it would seem. And it’s good to see that he’s putting his padded shoulder to work on behalf of the good senator from Illinois too. All in all, this clip rightly restores some luster to the Tate legacy. And he’s right too. Reading is fundamental, fool! Props to long-time FTB reader Mike Maiorana for shooting me the vid.
Who needs to be hated on more, Bud Selig or John McCain? Is it Bud Selig for trying to squeeze some more advertising dollars out of a low-rating World Series by prolonging it, or John McCain for using the World Series as a lame political statement to try and boost his low-polling campaign? Can’t they both see that the country’s already moved on - moved on to football season, basketball season, the Obama presidency. Okay, maybe if you live in Florida or Pennsylvania this is fun for you. I don’t think more attention has been paid to these two states since, well…since forever. With all of Obama’s money, he could have just bought another 30 minute ad for tonight, kept the game going through the ninth, the Phillies probably would have won and that would be that. Next. On to the NBA.
And McLame’s weak-ass World Series comment? This isn’t tax policy, or foreign policy, or health policy. Shaking hands with B.J. Upton isn’t the same as shaking hands with Ahmendinijad. If Obama lost any votes in Philly, McCain just lost twice as many in Florida. Bud Selig and John McCain are watching their respective empires in decline (funny how the fall of the steroid era coincided with the fall of the Bush/GOP era), and they’re trying to fan any little flame to keep it alive. But by flaming the fans, they’re just prolonging their slow trip to history’s ash pile. Good Riddance. Is it Nov. 5th yet?
Relaxing used to be easier. That’s how it seems at least. Barack Obama is leading the polls by many a measure right now, but there is also a countercurrent that seems to be palpable. The question: is the lead real? The answer: yes and no.
First, a picture. Here it is. From the Honolulu Advertiser (above). This is Barack taking a much-needed “me-time” walk after talking to his grandmother. And possibly saying goodbye to her. Friday. The woman who (largely) raised him. For what might be the last time. The apartment they shared. The block he grew up on. Father: deceased. Mother: deceased.
And this is no small moment in his own damn life. This is Barack Obama one week and change before he will either be elected or defeated in his bid to become President of the United States. And this is him. In flip-flops. And not the political ones. In some “sleepahs,” as they are known here. Plastic sandals. Walking around the fucking block.
Thinking.
So real, it makes the term “real” sound fake.
Personally, I want a president who knows when it’s time to put on some flip-flops and take a walk around the block to think for a minute. You? Need some scenarios? Read More »
Bad karma or just bad luck? Matters not, the key word is “indefinitely”.
Baron, Monta, now CJ. Are we done yet? This is getting silly. The Warriors need answers at the point. Fast. Even still, the season is looking tougher and tougher. Especially for the time-worn Don Nelson.
Meanwhile, it looks like the Warriors options at point guard have come down to an undrafted rookie, “Crazy Eyes” and the waiver wire.
I’m sure you all remember the 1979 single ‘Dr. Rock’? Or how about the wildly popular cut, ‘Wonder Worm’? Alright, maybe not, but there is little doubt that Captain Sky is totally f*ckin’ RAD.
You can thank LifeLounge for the image. The site offers up their own brand of “Daily Goodness” and some unique blogs. One of which is RAD.
