Archive for the ‘NBA’ Category

Like Tim, it's the harder way...I’ve spent about a week now talking about Tim Hardaway at the FanHouse, and on Deadspin. He said he hates guys who are down with the dong, and I really put a lot of time and effort into slamming him for it. I got carried away. If you missed any of it, here’s the “Tim Hardaway is an Asshole” anthology, in chronological order.

Tim Hardaway Did Not Spend Valentine’s Day With a Dude
Hardaway Apologizes; Amaechi Appreciates the Honesty
Tim Hardaway Loves to Stay at the YMCA
Tim Hardaway Has Been To a Gay Bar
The Maloof Brothers Wouldn’t Employ a Homophobe
Because This Had To End With Tim Hardaway Being Nude On YouTube
Tim Hardaway’s Gay-Friendly Car Wash

And then I read the second leg of his apology, and I started to feel a little bit bad about it. His second stab at saying he was sorry was much better, and seemed much more sincere. And after a weekend of hearing Charles Barkley and Kenny Smith say Hardaway’s a good guy (though, clearly, Kenny has much left to understand about the gay issue), I should give him another chance. It is possible for someone to say they hate gay people, and still, deep down, be a good guy.

Here was Timmy’s second apology:

“I don’t hate gay people,” Hardaway said. “I’m a goodhearted person. I interact with people all the time. … I respect people. For me to say ‘hate’ was a bad word, and I didn’t mean to use it.”

I buy that. And that should have been the first thing I thought, “Tim Hardaway doesn’t really hate gay people, he just got a little carried away when trying to express that he’s uncomfortable around gay people (which, you know, isn’t good, either… but doesn’t make him a terrible person).” But that wasn’t my reaction, my reaction was, “Let’s go write about what an asshole this guy is.”

I shouldn’t have done that. At least, I probably shouldn’t have done so much of it. Sorry, Tim.

Tim Hardaway is homophobic, Tim Hardaway is ignorant, and Reggie Miller was right when he suggested that Tim Hardaway probably needs some therapy. But I don’t believe he’s got a hateful heart … I don’t think Tim Hardaway sits at home and thinks, “These damn gay people are ruining the world, and I’m going to get them.” I think he’s just never been exposed to a lot of homosexuals, he’s confused and threatened by it, and he threw the word “hate” out there because he didn’t know how else to say it.

I think the NBA is justified in cutting him loose from NBA Cares, I think BaldGuyz is perfectly justified in firing him as an endorser, and I do still believe that Tim Hardaway, at his Grand Luxe Auto Hand Car Wash & Detailing Center should provide every gay customer with a free hand job.

Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day, that one special day of the year where you’re required to spend hundreds of dollars on your lady in the hopes that you’ll buy the right things and she’ll let you bone her.

And for those of you who can’t think about what to do for your lady, I’d like to revisit this advice from Delonte West, as told to Page 2′s Louise K. Cornetta:

So Jim Jones pumping and then from there, wind blowing through the hair, boom, we get straight to the point — we eat afterwards because I don’t want to kiss no onions. I don’t want to kiss you tasting like onions and steak and mushrooms and everything …

Yeah, we’re going to my yacht. We’ll pull up at the docks and got a guy waiting for us, open our door up and we walk down a lit-up dock and onto the yacht, where we have dinner set up on the boat and we just cruise out on the water. Sit down and have some dinner, some shrimps and steaks, keep it nice and breezy. Pop some bottles, some Moet Rose. The red Moet, we ain’t popping no Kristal, it tastes like urination. We ain’t popping no Kris, that’s $500 a bottle. It ain’t that serious …

OK, so from there, we’re doing a midnight skinny-dipping jump. Alright? From there, hopefully she’s got money because I hope Jaws gets her, boom, make sure she got me in the will, bank, I’m good. Oh well, shark got her! Jaws got her …

One more thing: When we’re on the yacht eating, we’re going to have some Popeyes chicken. That’s for dinner. It’s to let her know, put a mental image on her mind, first and foremost, if you ain’t from the hood, you don’t like Popeyes chicken. Everyone there loves Popeyes chicken and the biscuits — phew. But that’s just getting it on her mind, saying, you know, ‘Yeah, I can wine and dine you, but I’m a little rough around the edges and I’m keeping it real with you. I can be romantic, but this is real, we’re going to eat some chicken tonight. Chicken and biscuits.

I will never ever get tired of reading that, and I will never stop believing that it is solid dating advice. Oh, and just to justify the use of the trim tag…

Mmhmm.

Hey guys. My name’s Socks. I’m normally not the letter-writing type. I’m really not. I just want to keep to myself and go about my days with no one bothering me. I don’t need any attention or any special favors, like Flip Murray’s turtle does. But I had to write this letter. It might be the last letter I ever get to write. I hope I have the strength to finish it.

God, am I starving. I haven’t eaten in a month and a half. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can barely move, and soon, my organs are going to start to fail. The situation is bleak. It is hopeless in here. I feel like Anne Frank, writing letters from her attic.

I’m so so hungry. I don’t need any T-Bonz, or Pup-Peroni, or Milk-Bones, nothing like that. I don’t even need Alpo or something out of a 99-cent, 50-pound bag of dog food. I’ll take anything. I tried to eat my own paw once. Oh, I’m so hungry. It hurts so bad.

How did I get like this? You’d have to ask… that guy who owns me. I don’t know his name. We’ve never actually met. I see him walking around sometimes, but that’s it. I don’t know that he knows my name, either. When I see him, I show him my exposed ribs, lay on the ground and wail in pain, and all he does is go, “QB, represent!” and keep walking. I wish I knew what that meant.

I mean, he acts like he likes me. It’s just that there’s something sort of wrong with him. Most people see a dog as skinny as me and think, “That dog should probably eat something.” Not this guy. He sees me and thinks, “That dog should probably I WISH I WORKED AT BEST BUY twinkies are delicious and I wonder what they’re made of I WILL RIP YOUR FACE OFF we play the Clippers tonight and Maggette is an easy check YEAH, THAT’S RIGHT, TAKE IT OFF, GIRL.” Something I like that. I don’t know.

It’s just like there’s something missing upstairs. He’s not mean to me, he just doesn’t understand certain things. For example, when I stop whining after one of his friends blows weed smoke in my face, it doesn’t mean I’m happy and content. It means that because I weigh 41 pounds, I get really high, really quickly, and my face doesn’t move anymore. Really, guys, I’m not “higher than a giraffe’s ass and feelin’ no pain.” I’m still in a lot of pain, I just happen to be hallucinating, too.

Really, all I know about the guy is that he drives a big Escalade, he likes to do nude push-ups, and everyone else in the neighborhood is terrified of him.

But I’m not… I think he’s probably a nice guy, except for the not-feeding-me thing. And I swear, I’d love him forever if he just fed me… you know, it doesn’t even have to be every day. Just two or three times a week. Please, God. Please let that man feed me. I’d give anything for just one bite of my owner’s favorite meal, Cristal and Slim Jims.

And I’ve heard the stories that he tried to feed me, but the American Bulldog stole all the food. That’s not true. It is true that the bulldog has eaten and I haven’t, but the bulldog doesn’t get fed either. Right now, he’s in the back, eating Rick Adelman. He kills people and eats them, and he never shares. He’s killed a lot of people… two mailmen, a handful of girl scouts (he did give me a few Thin Mints), a Jehovah’s witness, a cop, a few naked girls covered in glitter, and Bison Dele. Bison Dele was huge. The bulldog ate him for like a month.

The animal control people are my only hope right now. If I whale and cry for long enough, sometimes, the neighbors notice, and they’ll call them. I don’t want to go back to dog prison, but at least they’ll get me some food.

Stay strong, everyone. And if you have a steak, treasure it. Treasure that thing like it’s made of gold. God bless.

– Socks

I took part in a bit of a Roundtable discussion about the Iverson trade in the FanHouse last night. It was myself, Bethlehem Soals, Marcel Mutoni, and The Big Lead… no aspect is left uncovered. I think we might do more of this over there. I think you oughta check it out.

Part 1: We Start With The Answer
Part 2: The Next Step for Iverson
Part 3: Veering Towards Philadelphia
Part 4: Were the Sixers Robbed?
Part 5: On Andre Miller
Part 6: The Other Nuggets
Part 7: What This Does to Kevin Garnett
Part 8: The Final Words

I wish I had YouTube footage of it, but George Karl’s comments yesterday about Isiah Thomas… to quote my man Cal Naughton Jr., he nailed that like a split hog. I don’t know how David Stern gives out suspensions for this thing and leaves Isiah out of it. If there was any criminal activity that gave the NBA a black eye, if there’s any completely shameful thing that came out of the Knicks/Nuggets altercation, it’s that Isiah Thomas got off without punishment.

The standard for behavior is raised on Thomas immediately because he’s a coach and not a player. He’s the one who’s supposed to know better. And yet, he was the one pretty clearly, in my opinion, responsible for the whole damn thing.

First, you have his postgame comments, expressing the absurd notion that the Nuggets were somehow at fault because they were winning by 19 points and still trying hard. To even suggest that a fight is somehow justified because the Nuggets were still dunking and scoring points is absurd. That’s like saying, “Well, yeah, I burned down that guy’s house… but he did tell me that I parked my car in an illegal zone.”

Also as evidence is the video of Isiah saying to Carmelo “Don’t go to the basket. Don’t go to the basket.” That seems like a pretty good indication to me that Isiah Thomas had something planned if Carmelo did go to the basket. Why would he say that if there weren’t instructions in place to take a hard foul on someone? If you got Mardy Collins to answer completely honestly, I’m pretty sure he’d tell you that, yes, Colonel Jessup did order the Code Red.

I’m not arguing that it’s never OK to instruct your players to take a hard foul on someone. There are reasons, legitimate basketball reasons, why you’d do that. If you’ve got a player that’s roughing up your team, taking liberties, throwing some cheap shots… one strategy on how to deal with that is to give it back to him. If there’s a player you feel like will shrink if he takes a physical foul … hey, I’d give it to him.

But being embarrassed about getting your ass whooped … I don’t see that as a real good reason. Even if Karl did want to run up the score, I’m not sure Isiah’s justified in that. If you’re losing, you’re losing. No one cheated you. You have to suck that one up and take it.

Isiah is tired of being booed at home, he knew that the boos were coming, he was frustrated with his own team, and he did something stupid.

I made new Power Rankings.

And this post in the NBA FanHouse inspired me to look for another Garnett commercial, one of my favorite commercials of time:

Garnett’s got some acting chops.

Does a guy deserve credit for admitting that he was wrong and then taking bold steps to right the wrong? I’d say no, not if you had to beat him over the head first.

I don’t think the decision to go back to the old leather ball is a case of David Stern listening to his players, I don’t think it’s a case of him making a magnanimous decision … I think it’s a case of him saying to himself, “Well, if the new ball is actually making their hands bleed, and assistant coaches have to wear gloves while throwing passes in practice, I’m going to look like a total prick if I don’t change the ball back.”

I fully expect Steven Jackson to claim that dress shirts chafe his neck and that belts are giving him abdominal cancer, in an effort to get Stern to rescind the dress code, too.

But if the ball wasn’t making hands bleed, I don’t think this decision would’ve ever been made. Stern didn’t care that the players didn’t like it. If that was the only problem, they’d be using this ball until Stern was dead. But actually doing physical damage to players hands, the instruments they use to make a living … that, he couldn’t spin.

So I’m sure there are a few people around the league tonight that are amused that Stern had to put his tail between his legs (and I mean that literally, the man has a tail) and admit that he was wrong … even if he doesn’t believe it himself, which he probably doesn’t. He at least had to say it.

In fact, I bet he’s not done with this. He’s going to go back to Spalding, talk to them about some concerns that players had, and get a 2.0 version of the basketball. And no matter how terrible it is, as long as it doesn’t do physical damage, he’ll stick with it.

Also see: David Stern Unveils Plans To Use New Flaming Basketballs

Hey, douchefuck.Some mjd-produced FanHouse things that I’d like to call to your attention…

• The Santa’s Lead Blocker series which today directs you to this Raiders man-thong

A very confused Lamar Odom.

• The possible gayness of a New Jersey Net.

• Joey Porter giving Kellen Winslow the PSYCH!

• And finally, video evidence of Merrill Hoge’s very strange hatred of Vince Young.

There's no way that little prick can jump that high.  No way.They’re both launching today… and unless you absolutely hate the NBA, I think you’ll enjoy the NBA FanHouse. I always felt like of all the sports out there, the blogosphere was strongest in the NBA area. And some of, in fact, most of the best have signed on with the FanHouse, including J.E. Skeets of The Basketball Jones, and Bethlehem Shoals of FreeDarko. There’s also Matt Watson of Detroit Bad Boys, Miss Gossip from Suns Gossip, Nate Jones (who? Nate JONES) of JonesOnTheNBA, Marcel Mutoni of BenchRenaldo, and Craig and Brett from The Association.

Not a weak link in the bunch. Seriously, it’s exciting to be a part of that cast. I feel like Christian Laettner on the Dream Team, and I’m more than willing to carry Shoals’ bags and get Skeets donuts on the way to practice every morning (Tim Horton’s, of course).

The NCAA Hoops FanHouse is also launching, and I’m a part of that one, too. I could tell you that the cast is just as awesome, but that would probably be a lie, and since Christmas is right around the corner, I’m not going to lie. Santa’s watching (seriously, it’s December already… did that sneak up on anyone else? Seeing a “12″ in the date on my cell phone just blew my mind).

It’s nothing against the people there, it’s just … the college basketball blogosphere has just never been as strong as the NBA’s. It’s odd which sports have the best blogs out there. NFL, weak. MLB, strong. College football, strong. College basketball, weak. NBA, strong. Hockey, I have no goddamn idea. Turkish oil wrestling, outright dominant.

Anyway, check them out if you get a chance. And if anyone has any advice on how I could get 28 hours into a day instead of 24, I’d love to hear it.

Via Deadspin, this New York Daily News article goes into some detail about new rules and regulations in the NBA that you might not have heard about. The league actually sent an official to a Knicks/Wizards game the other night to look for players who did any of the following:

– Untucked their shirt after being taken out of the game.

– Wore a rubber band with their name (or anyone else’s) on it.

– Chewed gum during the national anthem.

– Shifted and swayed as they stood in line listening to the national anthem.

But a little later in the article is the following quote, and this is what I find most interesting about the situation:

“The image problem is a subtle way of talking about black ballplayers and how they appear to the populace,” [Players Union boss Billy] Hunter said. “When we had our last round of negotiations, David told me that he was consulting with one of President Bush’s political consultants. The issue was, what they can do to make the game and players more appealing to the red states?”

I don’t know… a return to the days before Nat “Sweetwater” Clifton might help.

But there you go. The quote from Hunter explains quite a bit about David Stern and why he’s doing what he’s doing. We can dance around the issue by saying “image problem,” and “red states,” but the issue is right there. David Stern wants to sell the NBA to people who aren’t entirely comfortable with black people. That’s it.

It’s a complicated issue, and we’re not going to cover all of it. But there are people in the world who are fine with happy, smiling, non-confrontational black people like Wayne Brady… and not fine with other black people who doesn’t seem quite so non-threatening. That’s racism just the same, and David Stern is endorsing it by catering to those people.

And just because I enjoyed it… The Onion, indirectly, on similar issues.

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