Oh man. The rejection. This, from the day before Valentine’s Day, succintly records the single-greatest moment of self-clownation ever suffered by man. The mascot consolation at the end is priceless. The only way this could have been any worse? If the chick had summoned Dikembe Mutombo to come over and wag the finger after this massive rejection. This is like getting a shot blocked into the upper deck. Oh, the humanity. And oh by the way, get ready to say goodbye to the Rockets tonight right after saying goodbye to the Wizards. It’s a five-game elimination two-fer tonight on TNT.
It started this morning when I woke up to find my lady and my dog asleep next to me in bed. Usually I would find this quite cute, but after seeing too many Jason Kidd/Steve Nash morphs, I’m starting to see everything in split-screen, and it’s not pleasant. I think they created this ad campaign in cahoots with Partnership for a Drug Free America. You want to stop a kid from taking drugs? Have Josh Howard smoke him out and then clamp his eyes open Clockwork Orange-style and make him watch a few dozen of these “There Can Only Be One” ads. That kid won’t touch a bong for the rest of his life. Next, they’re going to put Shaq’s torso on Tayshaun Prince’s little bitty legs. And to make it worse, Time Magazine borrowed the concept for their Billary Oclama cover.
It’s all getting too f-ing weird. It makes me think of the Ricky Gervais shtick from his stand-up routine where he asks the question, “If you were going to have a mermaid, would you rather have a human head & fishy tail…or fish head with human bottom?” These are things that nobody needs to think about…least of all basketball fans who just want to kick back, smoke a bomber, eat some nachos and watch a game. I hate the “Where Amazing Happens” Campaign, but I’ll take that over “Where My Brain Explodes Happens.” Thanks David Stern. I’m sending you my psychotherapy bill.
Apparently, the NBA Playoffs are now where dis records happen. This might be the most interesting subplot of the playoffs so far. And there’s even a Bay Area connection.
It all started when DeShawn Stevenson decided to call LeBron James “overrated” to some media types a few games ago. LeBron responded by comparing himself to his friend and mentor figure Jay-Z and DeShawn to Soulja Boy. That got Soulja Bizzle all riled up, and I half expected a musical response. But I never saw this coming. A pre-emptive strike from Jay-Z? Frankly, I figured that Hova was too busy for Jr. Beard. But no. And not only did he go ahead and record a quick dis track, he used a Too $hort beat for it. Blow the whistle indeed. And Hova even compares The Town to Brooklyn in the intro. Sweet. But the best part might be where he debuted the cut. I’ll let Mike Wise of the Washington Post handle the particulars.
Afterward, LeBron twice said, “There is no LeBron-DeShawn rivalry.” But he had reinforcements behind the scenes, big guns that came out Friday night at a club called Love.
That’s right, in the wee hours of Friday night at Love, the Northeast club which hosted Gilbert Arenas’ million-dollar 25th birthday party last year, the deejay played a new cut by Jay-Z. The hip-hop icon actually cut it Friday and had it downloaded for a party hosted by LeBron James at the club that night. Stevenson was told that the lyrics just eviscerated him — in his own town.
Then teammate Damon Jones, who last did something to collect an NBA paycheck two years ago, took the microphone and talked junk about Stevenson.
Caron Butler, the only Wizard present, left because “he felt I was being disrespected,” Stevenson said.
I’ll bet he did. And I’m pretty sure that Jr. Beard was more than ready for the final whistle to sound in game four too. Especially, after he looked up at the scoreboard after the three-point loss. BronBron went for 34 to his 13. The Cavs and their beard of superior grooming will now be looking to close out this little chapter in game five at home. And, oh by the way, a frustrated DeShawn got a flagrant for slapping the headband off of James on a drive and almost creating major ruckus. It’s in the clip above, and isolated for further viewing after the jump.
And to think I was out running to raise money for cancer research when all of this hit the hardwood. Make the jump for the unlikely segue into the FTB fun at the Multiple Myeloma Reaseach Foundation 5K this morning in the city and more on DeS vs. LeB.
Personally, I want a president who looks comfortable on the hardwood. In fact, Obama’s quick hands netted a few Boom-esque steals while hooping up the Kokomo High Schoolers. His 3-on-3 team, which included Indiana Fever player Alison Bales, took the 15 minute game 15-5.
Now, lets see if we can come up with the victory in the Indiana primary, where he and Clinton are virtually tied.
Job market bumming you out? Can’t qualify for the loan you want? Wish your spouse made more scrilla? Boss is a complete douche? Maybe you’re feelin’ down and out? It could be worse. Sure, we’re in a minor recession, but don’t trip.
Here’s your weekend cureall, in easily consumable YouTube form. And if you happen to be a day laborer, I feel your struggle. On the real. No hate here.
For the record, I’m loving whoever came up with this one. Brilliant. And seriously friends, things could be so much worse. To that end, we’re fighting cancer this weekend. So, if any of you are feeling it, join us on what should be a lovely Sunday morning for the MMRF 5K out in San Fran. It’ll be a fun time for a good cause.
Turman
Update: Actually, I’m not loving whoever came up with this one quite as much this morning. First, their viral video (which arrived in my inbox as a Quicktime file) was removed by YouTube for a “terms of use violation.” Then, I had to replace it with this grainy one this morning. Which will probably also be taken down soon enough. So, after seeing other similarly tagged videos point me to www.jobmarket2009.com, I finally decided to hit the site and see what’s up. Yep, a digital age infomercial. Just send the guru money and you know the rest. Still a funny video though.
Former Warrior and patron saint of FTB Tom Meschery was known for his extraordinary toughness as a player. Shown above (at left) putting some hard-nosed D on Bob Cousy, the “Mad Russian” was a true banger on the defensive end and an underrated offensive threat. Not much has changed in the intervening years. Having recently battled multiple myeloma cancer to a standstill, he’s still got more than his share of scrap. But he’s also still got a soft touch on offense too.
This Sunday he’s going to be running in the San Francisco stop of the Multiple Myeloma Research Foundation Race for Research 5K. He’s also the honorary chairman for the event. He’s already raised more than $2,000 and we’re hoping to push that number up a bunch of ticks by the time the gun sounds on Sunday morning. The FTB crew will be there ready to run and we would love to see some of you out there. If running or walking isn’t your thing, please stop by Tom’s donation page and put some greenbacks on his efforts. This is not a kind disease and sadly, it already claimed the life of former Warrior and ‘74-’75 NBA Championship team member Phil Smith back in 2001. He was only 50 years old at the time.
A small donation or a run in the park is a great way to make a real difference. The success of the Mad Russian’s treatment, and his ability to participate in this great event, is proof positive that sometimes we can help push along the change we want to see in this world. So come on out and join us on Sunday. Putting a hard foul on multiple myeloma cancer was never easier.
Hope to see you there,
Turman
PS. In the years since his NBA career came to a close, Tom has become a highly regarded poet. YouTubelage of him reading his poem “Reunion 1994″ can be had after the jump, along with a personal message from Tom about Sunday’s event.
And so it goes. Results of the autopsy won’t be revealed until at least draft day, but some clues to the shortcomings are right there between the lines. Now, to the comments we go. Start clicking the square thingys with letters on them already.
Turman
PS. Remember to always discuss intelligently. Make the jump for the handy cheat sheet from the SF fishwrap of record’s Janny Hu. Read More »
Is it not enough that nearly half of the world’s population wants these guys to win something? No, no. They have to go and get a ‘hood favorite for mad, crazy crossover appeal too. And I’m not even talking about T-Mac yet. I’m talking about Rafer “Skip to My Lou” Alston. Watching him go for 30 against the Lakers and then clown Sasha Vujacic made me happy. But why in the name of Olajuwon can’t these guys seem to do anything right when it really counts? Like, say, in the playoffs.
I know Yao’s out resting up for Beijing, and that deserves a special circle of hate all for itself. But seriously. You guys won like 20 in a row or something. Beat every damn team in the league on the way. At home. On the road. In a car. At a bar. But uh oh. Turn on the bright lights and bring in the powder-blue bus from Mormonville and here we go again. And now they went and dropped the first two at home. To Utah. Of all teams. Utah. A-fricking-gain. I can’t even watch SportsCenter when these guys are still in the playoffs. It just makes the Haterade boil up in me.
I gotta get out one of those And 1 mixtapes now and calm down,
Jeff Wong over at The Score offers us a novel alternative to Earth Day: NBA Blah Day. The idea is simple enough. If you were going to take a “personal day” away from work for the specific purpose of having time alone with your NBA angst, what would you do? How would you spend your day?
Well, for me the answer was easy. Instead of spending what felt like half of my Sunday “bearding down,” I would have simply pushed that activity to the appropriate moment, namely April 22nd. However, fearing the negative workplace publicity that might result, I and my conspicuously pale and considerably smaller chin will be at work quietly suffering (see above).
I should totally stay home though. Doing the shaving thing and blogging the pain away would be way better. And I could leave the TV off instead of watching the hurtful spectacle of the Leastern Conference Playoffs, where, balance of schedule issues left unconsidered, the Warriors would have still qualified for the fourth slot. No, no. I should totally sleep in. Then write for a while. Then go down to the Y and hoop up some poor, unsuspecting high schooler like a good aging, vindictive hoops blogger should, talking the whole time like Gary Payton loose off of five Red Bulls.
We had to wait a couple of days after the initial comparisons for the QuickTime artists to bring their mojo, but the inevitable mashups (exhibit A, above) should start working their magic on the Pennsylvania electorate’s “silent majority” any minute now. Hopefully, they’ll still be dustin’ off them shoulders on their way to the polling places Tuesday morning.
If you’re in a hurry and craving understanding, the Jay-Z/Barack moment of synergy is just after the 2:35 mark. If it still makes no sense and you need the remedial course, check it here.
Turman
PS. The playoffs so far? Damn. Okay. If I must. Suns and Spurs were captivating. The Shaqtus is an interesting factor. And two overtimes in game one might make for more drama as the series drags on. Will this put some youthful exuberance back in the Shaq? But can he still contribute in a Shaq-sized way? We shall see. As for the rest of the games? A simple “meh” will suffice. Pretty much what I expected.
I’m feeling Rondo in Beantown though. He’s giving them something unexpected. Of course, they are playing the 37-win Atlanta Hawks, which makes me want to send David Stern some doo doo in a box, but why quibble over sour grapes when surely the foul inequity of this season will be replaced by an equitable system for next year, right? Right? I know BD is dying at home watching the Hawks on his 86-inch Phantasmatron PlasmaVision, just like I am. They need to be at the house instead of the Dubs. Sorry. I’ll talk about Joe Johnson’s niceness on the hardwood, but I will not speak of that roster beyond the Josh Childress line in the sand.
PPS. Props to Hubert White and Samuel Castle-Scott for having 99 problems other than knowing who to vote for. I’m sorry!
