The uncomfortable puns. The awkward embrace of opera and basketball. The just looking at Pau Gasol of it all. This was a pretty strange moment in the history of human-interest halftime segments. It was partially redeemed by a splendid editing job at the end, where Pau’s caveman yell was overdubbed with Placido Domingo’s soaring tenor.
Now, on another note, after all of the Kobe-ness of the last few weeks, take a moment to remember the man we drafted ahead of him. The draft is coming up, you see. And while I don’t expect the Dubs to screw up the draft this famously, take a moment out of your busy day to remember the name: Todd Fuller.
Nonetheless, kudos to the Lakers for getting it done. Game recognize game and all. And I think I’m starting to find something to like about them even. Trevor Ariza is a baller.
Turman
PS. Why did Magic Johnson get himself a supersized Goldmember suit? Dang.
It’s Tuesday May 26th. Your Western Conference Finals Series against the Denver Nuggets is all tied up and your next game is tomorrow night back at home in LA. You’re Sasha Vujacic. What are you doing right now? You might be getting your eyebrows shaped at the Beverly Center, or maybe you’re listening to your favorite cut off the third Color Me Badd album. You could be sending your Youtube highlight reel to all your friends back home for the 47th time. Perhaps your conditioning your hair again. Your soft, soft hair. Could it be that your practicing? Yes, you are probably practicing that indefatigable defense of yours. Opponents call it annoying, but you know it’s just unbeatable baby. Except when it’s beaten by Chauncey Billups, but you’re not thinking about that right now. Because right now, you’re practicing your jump shot which represents you - unpredictable, hot and cold, fire and ice - the mystery of Sasha. Each time you practice taking that last-second shot. You know, the one where the clock is running down and 20,000 fans are on their feet, holding their collective breath and you’re all alone on the court when suddenly everything around you goes dark- as dark as your hair, your soft, soft hair. Even Kobe fades into the lightlessness of The Staples Center, and you ask yourself the same question that thousands of Slovenian boys ask themselves every day, “what would Sasha Vujacic do?”
It seems like a lifetime ago, when the Warriors drafted a floppy-haired sharpshooter out of St. Johns. The Run-TMC years that followed are certainly remembered fondly in these parts as well, but seem nearly as far in the rearview mirror. Then it seemed like a sheer impossibility when he played on the first Dream Team, alongside Magic, Larry, Charles, and all of the other titans of hoops. And then finally, after some years in Indiana, his surprise return as GM breathed new life into a franchise that had fallen into a sickly reverie of poor draft choices, bad veteran signings, and a pervasive culture of losing.
Sure, there were ups and downs during his tenure, but I don’t really want to get into that here. That’s what the comments are for. I just wanted to take a moment to say thanks to the guy who was ballsy enough to stand tall against the best players of his day and ballsy enough to make mid-season deals for Baron Davis and Stephen Jackson. In fact, a strong argument could be made that he has had more to do with the Warriors making the playoffs over the past 25 years (and their chances therein) than just about any other single individual. Don Nelson is the only other person really in the conversation. But tonight, in spite of my impulse to, I’m not even going to waste any hate on Robert Rowell. I just wanted to take a minute to say “thank you” to a true Warrior who deserves a better farewell than the “don’t let the doorknob hit ‘cha where the dog shouda bit ‘cha” that he’s getting from the clothes-less emperors currently micromanaging the Warriors’ basketball operations back into irrelevance.
Mully, you deserve better. And I’m sure none of us would be shocked to see you return home to New York to reunite with your old trading partner from Indiana, Donnie Walsh, and run the Knicks. But I’m getting ahead of myself again. This is supposed to be a thank you, and a thank you it shall be. We all owe you one. Thanks for doing everything you’ve done for the Golden State Warriors. You will not be forgotten soon.
Sorry, I meant, Influenza A virus, subtype H1N1. I wouldn’t want people to get the wrong idea and see the price of pork bellies fall any further.
Anyway, I’ve been traveling quite a bit these days (most recently to the lovely state of Michigan) and I can’t believe how many people I’ve seen wearing those protective masks with the little rubber bands wrapped around their ears. Frankly, I think it’s all a bit ridiculous. I mean, haven’t they been following the news? It’s just the friggin’ flu. Seriously, get yourself some CleanWell and stock up on Emergen-C if your really worried.
Regardless, thanks to industrious designers, like Irina Block here, perhaps a few of the hysterical germaphobes will don a mask with a big piggy snout, gigantic kissy lips, or even a manly, fearsome beard.
At least that way the rest of us can have a good laugh.
For a few hours today, ESPN.com was the victim of what is apparently a fairly common hack. They got “Cornified.” Confirmed by some of my more tech-aware colleagues, this is a simple hack that can be dropped into a site’s code with ease. Then it gives site visitors an oddball little Easter Egg. Pop in the requisite keystrokes and bam! Unicorns, My Little Pony, and Hello Kitty all spring into action, covering the site with gut-wrenching cuteness, as seen above.
A quick conversation with an unnamed insider over at ESPN confirmed that they were investigating the hack and that word in the cubes placed suspicion on a disgruntled potentially ex-employee. Personally, after listening to Dave Chappelle the other night I have another theory.
See, Dave went on this extended riff about terrorism. In which, he said that he thought that the only thing that would terrorize mainstream America more thoroughly than a Muslim terrorist organization would be a gay one. Imagine, he suggested, a Gay Al-Queda fronted by Gay Bin Laden. I’ll leave the impressions and the rest to your imagination, carefully distancing myself from his non-PC-ness on this in the process. But seriously, if such an organization were to exist, defacing ESPN.com with unicorns might be a good first blow against America’s raging jockocracy. And certainly worthy of placement in the Hater Tuesday category.
Unicorner, I must reluctantly salute thee. But for the rest of America I caution you to step carefully in the coming days as we must consider the terror alert level now raised to “rainbow.”
Damn, it’s hotter than a pot of neck bones in The Town tonight. This is sleepin’ in the birthday suit weather. I’m going to tell you what’s NOT HOT. That weak-a$$ “Where Amazing Happens” Campaign. With their overly-dramatic, “the lives of 10,000 orphan refugee children hang in the balance of whether or not Chris Paul make this bucket,” arpeggiated piano jam.
CBS needs to take over the NBA again. I mean, Brent Musburger is probably rolling over in his grave each time that TNT intro comes on. Just check out the completely AWESOME theme music above. Doesn’t it just make you want to jump up and punch the sky in victorious, family-fun-filled revelry? Now, I know you think it can’t get much more awesome than that, but yes it can, yes it can my friend. Just click here and let your ears do the rest. This might be one of the most fantastic sports-related theme jammies of all time. It’s like “Up With People” trying to sing a reggae song about basketball. I’m pretty sure that it was after this that they no longer allowed sports event theme songs to be written with lyrics, but that’s just a guess. Too bad though. I guess the song I was writing for Susan Boyle about Lebron bringing The Larry O’Brien Trophy to Cleveland doesn’t have much of a chance of getting airtime. Oh well, there’s always next year.
For all of you Hater Tuesday fans out there, I’m going to ask you to take a day off from the hate. Instead, participate. This Tuesday night, The Independent Television Service (ITVS) will be hosting a screening and panel discussion of the Baron Davis-produced film “Crips and Bloods: Made In America (premiering on PBS Tuesday May 12th). The panel will be held in LA and will feature filmmaker Stacy Peralta, Deputy Mayor of Gang Reduction and Youth Development Rev. Jeff Carr and community organizer Skipp Townsend. BD won’t be there, but you can, by joining the live webcast and chat at 8:15pm being hosted on the ITVS blog, Beyond The Box
You can also join the discussion online instantly and in real time via live chat or Twitter using the designated event hashtag #itvscc. Simply include #itvscc anywhere within your tweet.
Let’s face it, watching a panel discussion online has to be more exciting than watching the ‘08-’09 Warriors (sorry couldn’t resist a little bit of hate). See you in the chat.
We’ve had a long-running debate here at FTB about who you’d rather have operating down in the paint. Zach Randolph or Anthony Randolph. Personally, I’m partial to those long, deceptively strong cats who gobble up rebounds and don’t eat themselves out of the league. Either way, here’s a little message for the vertically challenged among us from the fine folks at This is Why You’re Fat dot com.
Stay the hell away from anything you see on this site. Seriously. The “Thurmanator” pictured above is relatively mild compared to some of the offerings. And after you’ve spent two hours inhaling phantom calories through your monitor screen, let’s renew the debate about ballers big versus long in the comments. Give me a team of Tony Parker, Kevin Durant, Tayshawn Prince, Kevin Garnett, and Andris Biedrins and I will win championships. And run. And score with impunity. Have a Thurmanator and think it over.
If you can’t find something to hate about this, well, you’re just not trying.
Somewhere 213 or 310 area code I’m sure you’ll find the televangelist Don Vincent (aka Reverend X, aka God). He’s probably still videotaping his show, “The Spirit of Truth” and looking for a cable access channel to run it.
If you’ve seen the clips on YouTube (they’ve been widely circulated), then you’ll probably understand why our man is worthy of some of our Tuesday hate. It goes something like this: preach, dance, swear, rap, swear, repeat.
Apparently his special sermons have even gotten him an invitation to Howard Stern. But I wouldn’t be knowing, because in this day and age, who pays for radio access?
