Long overdue apologies to the loyal readership. The FTB crew has been doing way too much, as the kids sometimes say. Actually, adults say that. But to the kids, we were simply “on one.” So it is. Life intervenes.
And, of course, it would be easy enough to cover off on something at least lightweight important, like (say) the Warriors’ recent draft of a certain son of onetime NBA sixth man of the year Dell Curry. But no. That’s been covered to death. And frankly, I’m not sure I can still quite see Nellie’s vision for a lineup with four three-point specialists on the floor together at the same time any longer. I’m sure I’ll start to sniff the brandy around August when the summer league stats roll in and light that familiar fire under my ass to go out in the waning light and shoot dozens of 37-foot three pointers in an empty gym, but until then I’m going to take a more gentle approach to re-entry blogging.
Some trick shots. Sure, it could look fake if you wanted it to. I don’t think it is. Edited? Sure. But he’s making these, at least. And supposedly the dude has accepted a Twitter challenge from the newly renamed Big Cavaleezy, Shaquille O’Neal. To a game of horse. For a thousand bucks.
Basically, it all comes down to whether or not dunking is allowed. But Bruce Manley. Remember that name. He’s going to be all up in some YouTubelage with Shaq in a few days.
Turman
PS. Patty Mills falls to number 55 in the draft? Supreme injustice. However, he did end up with the Blazers. I’m betting that he’s competing for serious minutes by midseason. He’ll be this year’s Monta. Anyone still reading this blog? Wanna chat about it?
A couple of weeks ago, before I got crazy busy, I asked our friend in Portland for one last look back at the season. So, we did a little question and answer about the team that I had hoped would rise above the physicality of Houston and go deep into the playoffs. Here’s the back and forth. Thanks to The Mole and hopefully next year will see a more mature team get a better matchup in the first round. And make a little more noise on the big stage. But that is neither here nor there at the moment. Here’s what The Mole had to say.
FTB: You’ve seen what? Every single home game this year?
The Mole: Yessir! All 41 games, plus the first two home playoff games. I had a bet going with one of my season ticket holders that if I missed a game I would pay him half my day’s wages if I missed a game. Talk about motivation, especially in this economy.
FTB: Nice bounce back from a game one that hurt me personally. Your thoughts?
The Mole: Total change in the two games. It was actually a microcosm of the Blazers’ season. Have a terrible run in one game and come back to look like a team that actually is pretty damn good. It is a Jekyll and Hyde complex with this team, and it usually all revolves with how they play in first quarter. Now, in both games they didn’t play terribly in the first quarter. Yao got hot, got the benefit of some whistles due to his aggressiveness, and obliterated any hope we had of competing in the first game. In the second game, Artest was feeling himself to the tune of 15 first quarter points, but didn’t do anything after that. The difference between the two games was the Blazers intensity and will to be aggressive. This team can play, as seen in their run to end the season, but the consistency of bringing it nightly against upper-echelon teams is still not there in my eyes. But the team is getting a crash course in it now and will be better for it next year.
FTB: It’s been a great season, by the way. And the team has performed in the face of fairly high expectations—not a given for a young team. What has been the most revealing thing that you’ve seen?
The Mole: The team’s resolve and the fact that they don’t get credit for being as tough as they are. Joel played 82 games for the first time in his career while having to back up Oden who got the rookie treatment from the referees (some good calls, other rather questionable) and taking the task of getting charges and guarding the paint. Aldridge slapped the perpetual mouth that is Kevin Garnett in a testy December ballgame. Roy has been playing with a torn tendon in his pinky, just like Kobe, but you don’t hear the press questioning why he is delaying surgery or even talking about the fact that he is injured. I mean I could go on and on. This Blazers team is the hardest working team that I have had the pleasure of watching evolve. No matter what the ailment is they play and give it their best. If they are soft, then I don’t see it. As for the resolve, I believe the win over the Spurs puts a cap on it. 18 comeback victories from 10 or more points is unheard of, especially for the 2nd youngest team in the league. Read More »
After the listless loss by the Warriors on Saturday, Meschery and I switched over to the Blazers game against Memphis. I had watched them on TNT on Thursday against the Suns too. And I noticed something: they’re growing playoff beards.
Yes, the entire team is bearding up. Cheryl Miller confirmed it by flirting with Brandon Roy and scratching his man moss. Now, there’s really no reason not to embrace this team. They play ball unselfishly and with gusto. They know their roles and play as a unit. And they seem like decent, bearded folk.
After an emergency staff meeting over a game of 21 at the Y, it is official. FTB unanimously endorses the Portland Trail Blazers as our team of record for the duration of the NBA Playoffs. Our mole in the Rose Garden has been notified. This does not come without a parallel observation. The Dubs are tanking and it is hard to watch.
Saturday was the tipping point. Warm weather in The Bay. Teriyaki chicken wings on the grill. Dubs game on the tube. And I’m wearing my “We Believe” Western Conference Semifinals shirt from the night of The Dunk. It didn’t take long to realize how far the team has fallen and how shockingly fast it has occurred. Two years ago, there would have been ten people crowded into my living room to watch the game. This night, three. But why the Blazers? Read More »
Cheikh Samb? I barely remember the name from Sunday night’s game notes. But I fired up the league pass Monday and saw this. Then I had to run back to the game notes. Then Wikipedia: Senegal, Lakers, Italy, Pistons, Fort Wayne Mad Ants, Pistons, Mad Ants, two teeth knocked out, NBA, Mad Ants, NBA again, traded to the Nuggets in the Billups deal, assigned to the Colorado 14ers, traded to the Clippers, and now: mounted to a fine wood frame and hanging on the wall of Brandon Roy’s Portland crib.
Turman
PS. More on the Blazers soon. I kind of like them.
Ronny Turiaf, unimpressed by my FTB shirt, covers up his beard.
For the most part, the city of Portland is divided into orderly quadrants. In the northwestern one, there is a section of town called Nob Hill. Named in homage to the neighborhood of the same name in San Francisco, this neighborhood is a clean, quiet place of old Victorian mansions and boutique shops. Somewhat disconcertingly though, several of the streets share their names with characters from The Simpsons. Apparently, Matt Groening grew up in Portland. Go figure. But with streets named after both Ned Flanders and Reverend Lovejoy, an outsider is struck by a strange sense of order, imposed only by the psychological effect of churchgoing cartoon characters seemingly having streets named after them.
To a degree this is the net effect of attending a game at the Rose Garden as well. Bay Area fans will not hear the jeers that one hears at the Oracle. And I’m not talking about the ones directed at opposing players, I’m talking about the guy in section 203 yelling obscenities at Stack Jack every time he misses a three. And forget about any comparisons with Raiders fans. There’s no “Black Hole” here. I’m not saying that everyone in the arena is a Flanders or a Lovejoy, but there is a profound difference in the culture of hoopfandom here: people come to the game to cheer for a win.
Interestingly enough, they weren’t that interested in the 6’4” guy in the “believe yellow” Fear the Beard shirt in the seventh row either. I was afforded such largesse by virtue of a Stub Hub-savvy Dubfan of a girlfriend and ticket prices that are nearly half of what would pay for a similar seat at the Oracle. It was like a visiting a really polite foreign country like Denmark. Except one where your currency went further, like Mexico. Sure, it was a little homogeneous for my taste, but damn if it wasn’t hard to like what they’re cooking.
When the Warriors opened up a little bit of a first-half lead behind the spicy moves and sharpshooting of Jamal Crawford, I couldn’t restrain myself. I stood and clapped after a particularly tasty shake followed by a crisp jumper. “Blake can’t stay with you,” I yelled. Read More »
Brandon Roy ices the victory against Golden State, January 10, 2009.
The Portland Trail Blazers are the only show in this town. As a result, they occupy a large space in its collective psyche. And now, after several thoughtful years devoted to rebuilding, the team and the city are finally ready for the great repositioning. On the not so broad shoulders of Brandon Roy—son of the Pacific Northwest—will the fortunes of this generation of Rip City’s heroes rise or fall. But that is the beauty of renewal. Portland still has all of this action ahead of them. The team’s new mantra? “Rise With Us.”
It is a slogan that accompanies the team wherever it goes in these parts, and it fits. The giant billboard across the street from the Rose Garden itself places the action in perspective before you enter the arena. And the promise of the slogan is only half of the arrangement. This is a team that is also asking something specific of its fans. Implied in the three words is something that should sound familiar to Warriors fans: belief. Rise With Us. You do your part and we’ll try to do ours.
But this is a metropolis that seems to have a particular sense of civic duty. Slogans follow you around this town, like the strange, four-top, always-on water fountains that seem to be everywhere downtown. Plastered on city vehicles is another one: “The City That Works.” Portlanders want each other to feel like they are in this thing together. It would seem that this is a sentiment that they also—in this epoch at least—want to also apply to their professional basketball. This is done without irony or conceit. And it makes sense.
This is a good thing if you’re the only show in town. And it is a decidedly different vibe than the one that defined the last good Blazers teams. The twilight of Scottie Pippen was ultimately a lonely quest to emerge from behind a massive shadow. Young, impetuous ‘Sheed and all the technical fouls was also personal thing. Isaiah Rider smoking weed from a Coke-can bong was a more brazen type of indifference. And Damon Stoudamire’s slow, largely forgiven, fall from his hometown’s good graces may have been the final straw in the team’s protracted descent into selfishness. Make no mistake though. This town loved those teams. They just got tired of being hurt by them. Other parts of the country probably imagine it as a bad breakup. Here, one doesn’t get that sense. It was a marriage doomed to eventual divorce, but one where many of the memories are still good. Read More »
There’s plenty to like about Rudy Fernandez, but singing and guitar tickling ain’t among them. In the relentless, Sprite-orchestrated campaign to get fans to vote for the final competitor in this year’s All-Star Weekend Slam Dunk Contest, it’s possible that they have finally pushed the envelope too far. And true, this is nowhere near as bad as Russell Westbrook’s trumpet playing. But nonetheless, Rudy has earned himself a spot on the Hater Tuesday athlete music review with this rendition of “Vota Me.”
The concept of New Year’s resolutions is a bit arcane if you ask me. Basically, the big game clock in the sky gets reset to a fresh 48 and we all rush out for the next tip promising to do better. And in the case of the Dubs, I hope they do. But when they went ahead and finished out 2008 with lackluster losses to the two worst teams in the league, it forced me to consider a resolution of my own that may or may not always include them: to renew my love of basketball.
As any Warriors fan of any tenure can tell you, rooting for this team during years like this can become downright funereal by mid-February. And while I’m still willing to be a pallbearer, I’m not sure I need to spend too much time at the microphone lamenting what could have been. Loving the Warriors is an exquisite brand of torment, and one devoid of the glory associated with other long-suffering fan bases. Sure, we have the title that defined my childhood, but basically the Warriors haven’t been out of the second round of the playoffs in so long that it takes a particular brand of masochist to embrace the ritual. Why? Simple.
As was once famously said of the city of Oakland, there isn’t enough “there” there. For the Dubs this takes a little explainin’. But, the main thing is this: in the years between championships, the Warriors’ brand of futility has lacked imagination and prestige. Essentially, we are Chicago Cubs fans without a Steve Bartman to blame. Pre-parade Red Sox’ers without the “Curse of the Bambino.” As a Cal football fan at least I can lean on “high academic standards” as my cause celebre for failures on the field. The Warriors give us no such luxuries. And this is what is curious. While the Warriors have one of the league’s most passionate and informed fan bases, we are nearly blind to the beauty all around us for our myopia. Thus my resolution. The world is filled with beautifully played basketball. And I intend to watch more of it. Never mind that we rightfully inhabit the nation’s fourth-largest media market and regularly fill the Oracle Arena. Who cares if we can call out missed defensive switches, but somehow can’t provide enough revenue to the bean counters to justify fielding a winning squad? I’m tired of the chasing the hurt with vainglorious shortsightedness. So. What to do? Read More »
Anthony Morrow didn’t waste any time following up his improbable debut on Saturday against the Clips. That 37-point breakthrough was enough to earn him the moniker “Chocolate Rain” around these parts. He followed it up tonight by raining down a not-so-insignificant 25 to lead all scorers in a win against the Trailblazers.
But there’s so much more than the points. He creates the spacing that the Warriors need to succeed in half-court sets, limiting the ability of opposing defenders to collapse and double team. Clearly, this benefits all. And tonight, against a quality opponent, the Dubs had a combined 80 points from the guards and forwards who were suddenly less heavily guarded. Or, on the break he draws attention away from the lane, or gets a kick-out pass for an open look. And then there were those instances where Oden or Pryzbilla were caught outside after switching on a screen involving Morrow. And he would either go drano over the taller defender or pass to a cutter who was suddenly facing a “beast-less” lane through which to slash.
My only complaints? He sat for much of the fourth quarter, when there was a brief scoring drought. And then there was that little matter of a couple of nearly catastrophic botched inbounds passes aimed for Morrow. Who just happens to also be the team’s best free-throw shooter. Oh, and Biedrins’ double-double streak came to an end. But these are small complaints.
Thankfully, a few questionable calls from Bob Delaney–yes, that Bob Delaney–helped ice the win. Makes me wonder what the spread was. Oh well, why hate. On a night when the Dubs go 33 for 35 on free-throw shooting all hating is temporarily suspended.
There’s an 80% chance of Chocolate Rain for Friday. Dress appropriately Chicagoans.
