With a comparison to their highest and lowest potential incarnations...
John Wall- Dwayne Wade/ Steve Francis
DeMarcus Cousins- Karl Malone/ Zach Randolph
Derrick Favors- Antonio McDyess/ Dale Davis
Luke Babbit- Tom Chambers/ Galinari
Evan Turner- Brandon Roy/ John Salmons
Gordan Hayward- Dunleavy Jr.
Jared Randle- Eddie House/ DJ Augustine
Wesley Johnson- Scottie Pippen/ Josh Howard
Cole Aldrich- Chris Mimh/ John Koncak/ Eric Montross/ etc...
Eric Bledsoe- Kyle Lowry
Dexter Pittman- Eric Dampier/ that Center for the Pacers...from Gtown...Hibbert
Hassan Whitehead- Camby/ Caldwell Jones
Ed Davis- Brandon Wright/ Josh Powell
More Later
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Laker's Next Step: Dexter Pittman
Two things re: Lakers struck me after the Finals this year:
1) They need some backup in the post.
2) They need some firepower off the bench.
Remedies: The Lakers need a backup post player who can clog the middle, play strong post D, and rebound. You'd imagine that Josh Powell, or DJ Mbenga would be able to do this- but that's not the case.
Powell doesn't have that one defining edge: not strong or tall enough. Not fericious enough. Not a leaper. Can't really shoot. A nice body for practice.
Mbenga, is all elbows and knees, and fouls. He can drape himself all over his opponent, but his overdeveloped upper torso seems to weigh down the crab legs below, and he always seems out of place, out of position, ready to swing completely out of balance, with only his size 17 feet to scrabble about fruitlessly for leverage. He'd make a great baseball bat, just grab him by the legs, and let the barrel of his chest slam the fastball out into left field, (just like this metaphor) but he sucks as a basketball player.
And weirdly, for a huge guy- Mbenga isn't even a space eater. He's thin, and even when boxing out, seems to get only a small piece of the "canopy"- (I can't think of a better term- but how do you describe the space around the basket where rebounds are to be gathered? Going furthur, if Mbenga were a tree in the Amazon jungle, he'd be a skinny "pecker pole" that shoots up straight and narrow, gathering only a small bit of the sun.
(By the way, the term "pecker pole" was used by my buddy, a prominent ecological designer, to describe the thin, shallow rooted second generation trees planted by lumber companies to replenish a clear cut. He used the term angrily, "Look at all those fucking pecker poles!" and I say this to let you all know I didn't coin the term all by my lonesome.)
Back to the point- what do the Lakers need?
When Bynum was wounded, and draining fluid from beneath his patella, and the Lakers were getting beaten up underneath in Game 5, I asked myself why they were continuing to play Gasol- clearly exhausted, and out of ideas, and not let him rest for a bit, get some clarity and come back in with energy and a game plan?
Answer: Because every one else they had was a complete liability. Powell, and Mbenga already discussed- what's next? Morrison? Walton? What ever happened to Mike Smrek?
The Lakers needed, at that moment, a space eater who can alter the post area and lower key just by being there. Some King of Bulk, a lot like Kendrick Perkins, who showed his value once he was gone and the Celts got pummeled inside in 6 and 7.
And I'm the kind of guy who hates to complain without bringing the solution. So...
The Solution.
Dexter Pittman, Texas.
Likely available in the second round.
This guy is huge- like an Oliver Miller, and like Miller, has all the same limitations. Not fast, laterally challenged. But strong like bull, with a soft finishing touch, and can potentially devastate a small point guard darting into the lane. And the guy can fucking box you out!
Imagine Westbrook slamming against this wall while Gasol rests and Bynum recovers from his latest knee injury. Imagine Garnett trying to elbow his way past Strong Like Bulk.
Remember those massive supervillians who nothing could hurt due to their resiliant density? Even a Superman uppercut would merely send tremors rolling through their torsos?
Or have you seen a Brazilian porno, where the cam suddenly slo mo's on the largest bunda you've ever seen, quivering like a bowl of jelly, something evolutionally prepared to take a pounding?
That's Pittman.
And Pittman can be a force of nature- let me drum up a better metaphor- a voracious black hole- like DeJuan Blair, on the rebounding front. For ten violent minutes a game before he collpases into a puddle of high cholesterol persipration.
But how much would Laker's fans liked to have seen this guy- an option- as opposed to the other non-options, on their bench in Game 5?
All that for only the minimum NBA salary...
1) They need some backup in the post.
2) They need some firepower off the bench.
Remedies: The Lakers need a backup post player who can clog the middle, play strong post D, and rebound. You'd imagine that Josh Powell, or DJ Mbenga would be able to do this- but that's not the case.
Powell doesn't have that one defining edge: not strong or tall enough. Not fericious enough. Not a leaper. Can't really shoot. A nice body for practice.
Mbenga, is all elbows and knees, and fouls. He can drape himself all over his opponent, but his overdeveloped upper torso seems to weigh down the crab legs below, and he always seems out of place, out of position, ready to swing completely out of balance, with only his size 17 feet to scrabble about fruitlessly for leverage. He'd make a great baseball bat, just grab him by the legs, and let the barrel of his chest slam the fastball out into left field, (just like this metaphor) but he sucks as a basketball player.
And weirdly, for a huge guy- Mbenga isn't even a space eater. He's thin, and even when boxing out, seems to get only a small piece of the "canopy"- (I can't think of a better term- but how do you describe the space around the basket where rebounds are to be gathered? Going furthur, if Mbenga were a tree in the Amazon jungle, he'd be a skinny "pecker pole" that shoots up straight and narrow, gathering only a small bit of the sun.
(By the way, the term "pecker pole" was used by my buddy, a prominent ecological designer, to describe the thin, shallow rooted second generation trees planted by lumber companies to replenish a clear cut. He used the term angrily, "Look at all those fucking pecker poles!" and I say this to let you all know I didn't coin the term all by my lonesome.)
Back to the point- what do the Lakers need?
When Bynum was wounded, and draining fluid from beneath his patella, and the Lakers were getting beaten up underneath in Game 5, I asked myself why they were continuing to play Gasol- clearly exhausted, and out of ideas, and not let him rest for a bit, get some clarity and come back in with energy and a game plan?
Answer: Because every one else they had was a complete liability. Powell, and Mbenga already discussed- what's next? Morrison? Walton? What ever happened to Mike Smrek?
The Lakers needed, at that moment, a space eater who can alter the post area and lower key just by being there. Some King of Bulk, a lot like Kendrick Perkins, who showed his value once he was gone and the Celts got pummeled inside in 6 and 7.
And I'm the kind of guy who hates to complain without bringing the solution. So...
The Solution.
Dexter Pittman, Texas.
Likely available in the second round.
This guy is huge- like an Oliver Miller, and like Miller, has all the same limitations. Not fast, laterally challenged. But strong like bull, with a soft finishing touch, and can potentially devastate a small point guard darting into the lane. And the guy can fucking box you out!
Imagine Westbrook slamming against this wall while Gasol rests and Bynum recovers from his latest knee injury. Imagine Garnett trying to elbow his way past Strong Like Bulk.
Remember those massive supervillians who nothing could hurt due to their resiliant density? Even a Superman uppercut would merely send tremors rolling through their torsos?
Or have you seen a Brazilian porno, where the cam suddenly slo mo's on the largest bunda you've ever seen, quivering like a bowl of jelly, something evolutionally prepared to take a pounding?
That's Pittman.
And Pittman can be a force of nature- let me drum up a better metaphor- a voracious black hole- like DeJuan Blair, on the rebounding front. For ten violent minutes a game before he collpases into a puddle of high cholesterol persipration.
But how much would Laker's fans liked to have seen this guy- an option- as opposed to the other non-options, on their bench in Game 5?
All that for only the minimum NBA salary...
DeMarcus Cousins: Silverback Mastadon
I hate mock drafts. I read them, but they are generally full of shit. While it's enjoyable to see players as stock, the conjectures often have nothing to do with their value on a basketball court.
With that in mind, I'm paring this entry down to who I think is notable in this upcoming draft.
First, DeMarcus Cousins is a silverback mastadon. If those never existed, God fucked up. They exist now, and the first is DeMarcus Counsins. May he have 8 children with 8 women and thus spread his seed. And yes, I'm comparing him, at least in mental capacity, to Shawn Kemp.
Compare him to Moses Malone if you are ignorant, but consider Karl Malone instead. A huge thick guy who can bang, has touch and can hit from the outside? A guy with attitude and the ability to intimidate- like a silverback mastadon? A guy who isn't going to jump over you, like Blake Griffin, but would prefer to plow through you? Karl Malone. That's the highest upside.
But this guy's going to doa lot of dumb things with the ball too. The Malone we all remember dished out of the post when doubles came, and generally played smart. Even though we hated watching him pray before each free throw, we knew they were going in.
Back to Kemp- take Kemp's brain, and implant it into Karl Malone's body, and you get Counsins. This means, some miswired circuity, some bad decisions, both on the court and off. Some mechanics that won't always get learned, some deficiency in the fundamentals (for instance, in footwork, or post D, that limit his upper limit.) Expect fouls, lots of them, and even some Rasheed Wallace, a hot headed T every now and then.
I'll say it right here- Zach Randolph 2.0.
But overall, you'd live with the deficincies, and take the strengths; the man-eating oak tree in the post who can snap the 17 footer at will.
Prognosis: 17 pts. 12 rbs. 1.4 blks. 2 TO's.
Overall, GM's pass him only to save them and their franchise a few headaches. But they will hate facing him on the court.
With that in mind, I'm paring this entry down to who I think is notable in this upcoming draft.
First, DeMarcus Cousins is a silverback mastadon. If those never existed, God fucked up. They exist now, and the first is DeMarcus Counsins. May he have 8 children with 8 women and thus spread his seed. And yes, I'm comparing him, at least in mental capacity, to Shawn Kemp.
Compare him to Moses Malone if you are ignorant, but consider Karl Malone instead. A huge thick guy who can bang, has touch and can hit from the outside? A guy with attitude and the ability to intimidate- like a silverback mastadon? A guy who isn't going to jump over you, like Blake Griffin, but would prefer to plow through you? Karl Malone. That's the highest upside.
But this guy's going to doa lot of dumb things with the ball too. The Malone we all remember dished out of the post when doubles came, and generally played smart. Even though we hated watching him pray before each free throw, we knew they were going in.
Back to Kemp- take Kemp's brain, and implant it into Karl Malone's body, and you get Counsins. This means, some miswired circuity, some bad decisions, both on the court and off. Some mechanics that won't always get learned, some deficiency in the fundamentals (for instance, in footwork, or post D, that limit his upper limit.) Expect fouls, lots of them, and even some Rasheed Wallace, a hot headed T every now and then.
I'll say it right here- Zach Randolph 2.0.
But overall, you'd live with the deficincies, and take the strengths; the man-eating oak tree in the post who can snap the 17 footer at will.
Prognosis: 17 pts. 12 rbs. 1.4 blks. 2 TO's.
Overall, GM's pass him only to save them and their franchise a few headaches. But they will hate facing him on the court.
A Sociologist Embraces Basketball
When I moved to LA, 6 years past, I told a friend I would start to watch basketball again, but I would never wash my car.
My vision was: LA as a smog pit/ bright light for the globalized moths of the world, community so diffuse that the Lakers and cars were the common parlance, the coin of the realm, the tendons of the dream.
My idea was to embrace one and villify the other.
It wasn't a bad choice- as a former Seattlite, I valued clean rain, green wilderness, waterproof clothing, heathly outdoor activities (yeah, like walking, biking, hiking, swimming), salmon, and the Sonics. Durant and Green, Payton and Kemp, the X man, Tom Chambers, Dale Ellis, and Derrick McKey, even Dana Barros for a season.
In sum, I had a natural affinity for "sustainable living", (LA is about as sustainable as a Sahara fish farm) and a love of the athletic grace of hoops.
Additionally, all that Sonic love was now being bought out by some Oklahoman oil magnate. Didn't hurt either when Pau Gasol suddenly dropped into the Laker's laps and Kobe stopped crying long enough to get the Lakers into the Finals against another re-vamped team- the Celtics.
To add to my Laker's resume, I was born in LA during the Kareem Abdul Jabbar/ Norm Nixon era. I sat at some playoff games with my dad, when Bird and Magic went at it. I remember wondering how in the hell the Lakers got the number one pick to get James Worthy, and even trade for Byron Scott? Was anybody trying to compete with this team?
Back to the topic-
I relate all this to say I surprise myself with how much I've stuck to that original statement. I've washed my car, once. It's a pigsty. I don't care. It drives. No one breaks into it. It's got 6 month old birdshit plastered on the hood. People don't ask me for a ride- makes life convenient.
And as far as B-ball. Now , I play every week. I coach kid's bball- I've even been asked to start an AAU team- but who has the time for that?
I still read the news every day- but it used to be about cultural assimilation stories, impact of economic change on culture. Now, I look up future NBA prospects in my free time. I enjoy knowing the name of Tiago Splitter, and wondering what impact he could have on The Spurs. I wait with baited breath for news on Patty Mills, knowing that when he and Bayless finally run the Blazers second unit, they will be a frenzy of steals, dunks, and fast breaks that will help lift the Blazers to new heights.
If I could, I would watch D-League games, summer league games, and definitely European league games. I know the names of the best bball columnists- Ford, Adande, Dwyer, d'Allesando. There are others. I read their stuff daily. I find myself debating their opinions. Agreeing, disagreeing- I see how entire worldviews get squeezed into one's approach to basketball, and I want to bring some noise too.
It surprises me, that all this has happened, as it also represents how living in a morass of concrete and traffic, and overpriced shit makes one turn to entertainment for not only a small bit of distraction, but a small bit of morality, of values, of greatness.
My vision was: LA as a smog pit/ bright light for the globalized moths of the world, community so diffuse that the Lakers and cars were the common parlance, the coin of the realm, the tendons of the dream.
My idea was to embrace one and villify the other.
It wasn't a bad choice- as a former Seattlite, I valued clean rain, green wilderness, waterproof clothing, heathly outdoor activities (yeah, like walking, biking, hiking, swimming), salmon, and the Sonics. Durant and Green, Payton and Kemp, the X man, Tom Chambers, Dale Ellis, and Derrick McKey, even Dana Barros for a season.
In sum, I had a natural affinity for "sustainable living", (LA is about as sustainable as a Sahara fish farm) and a love of the athletic grace of hoops.
Additionally, all that Sonic love was now being bought out by some Oklahoman oil magnate. Didn't hurt either when Pau Gasol suddenly dropped into the Laker's laps and Kobe stopped crying long enough to get the Lakers into the Finals against another re-vamped team- the Celtics.
To add to my Laker's resume, I was born in LA during the Kareem Abdul Jabbar/ Norm Nixon era. I sat at some playoff games with my dad, when Bird and Magic went at it. I remember wondering how in the hell the Lakers got the number one pick to get James Worthy, and even trade for Byron Scott? Was anybody trying to compete with this team?
Back to the topic-
I relate all this to say I surprise myself with how much I've stuck to that original statement. I've washed my car, once. It's a pigsty. I don't care. It drives. No one breaks into it. It's got 6 month old birdshit plastered on the hood. People don't ask me for a ride- makes life convenient.
And as far as B-ball. Now , I play every week. I coach kid's bball- I've even been asked to start an AAU team- but who has the time for that?
I still read the news every day- but it used to be about cultural assimilation stories, impact of economic change on culture. Now, I look up future NBA prospects in my free time. I enjoy knowing the name of Tiago Splitter, and wondering what impact he could have on The Spurs. I wait with baited breath for news on Patty Mills, knowing that when he and Bayless finally run the Blazers second unit, they will be a frenzy of steals, dunks, and fast breaks that will help lift the Blazers to new heights.
If I could, I would watch D-League games, summer league games, and definitely European league games. I know the names of the best bball columnists- Ford, Adande, Dwyer, d'Allesando. There are others. I read their stuff daily. I find myself debating their opinions. Agreeing, disagreeing- I see how entire worldviews get squeezed into one's approach to basketball, and I want to bring some noise too.
It surprises me, that all this has happened, as it also represents how living in a morass of concrete and traffic, and overpriced shit makes one turn to entertainment for not only a small bit of distraction, but a small bit of morality, of values, of greatness.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Environmentalists' 911: Moving on from BP
Before my morning swim, I checked Facebook, and saw a story posted about an AP reporter, 40 miles off the Coast, who jumped into the thickest slick of oil he could find, no hazmat suit, whatever that amounts to, in order to experience and thus write a story someone would read.
No living animals- just a few dead fish and a jellyfish. Softball size spheres of crude floating ten feet under- and it was sticky. So sticky it would have been impossible for him to clean himself- it took the crew 30 minutes with brushes and Dawn.
Swimming, I thought of this- even diving down ten feet just for reference.
Finishing, I hit the showers, where, as usual, there were a few older white guys talking, drying off their jocks a little longer than necessary, etc...
"So, Ed, when should I buy BP? Last week, you told me when it goes below 30."
"It's below 30," said Ed. "And I'd wait a little longer."
"HA! So your good advice last week is no longer your good advice this week?"
"Yeah, and next week you'll get my "better" good advice than this week!"
They both chuckled, and continued the fastidious toweling off of their greying jocks, as I dressed and left.
What struck me about this whole situation was layered.
The backlash against BP, to them, and probably a majority of old school investors, was just temporary, and there would be a good time to capitalize on all this "negativity." Environmentalism was a moment, a temporary focus on a disaster which would pass, until business as usual returned.
The price then, of a dead ocean, could be reaped when the garunteed myopia of the world had moved onto some new crisis, perhaps a war in Korea, or Iran, or a new threat of processed uranium.
What would it take to change this? Other than tossing the legions of Ed's into the Gulf, to suck on softball sized spheres of oil?
A price index for sustainability. A monetary value on moral situations. Yes, something legal, which would make this "fluctuation" in stock prices a permanent change.
Last week, at a wedding, I spoke to a top Democratic policy maker, whom I won't name. He didn't say no when I asked if the Gulf spill was akin to an Environmentalists' 911.
"Sure, but other than giving political priority to a few pieces of pending legislation, like permitting off shore drilling, what's the gain?" he asked. "I help navigate these political moves, for quick gains, but will they really change things?"
What's not in place, it seemed, was what Cheney had in his backpocket when 911 rolled around- a core of fanatics who had planned out an invasion in the wake of just such a "sneak attack- akin to 911."
Environmentalism, to make true gains, needs to get off of coal. Needs to harness and develop wind and solar. We all know this. Soy- not the answer. Expensive subsidies for non-sustainable agriculture interests.
What then? What, ultimately would make Ed shift his "good advice" to investing in other areas that aren't business as usual?
In the same wedding conversation, the idea floated that finding the children growing up in Appalachia, whose fathers died from coal dust, or the Navajo children whose father died of uranium poisoning, or poverty due to coal mining, or the children of the gulf fisherman, whose future is now uncertain, and training them to create the industries of the future in their backyards- synthetic fuels from genetically altered bacteria in West Virginia, hydrogen engines(!!!) in Louisiana, or solar panels in the land of eternal sunshine, New Mexico.
Twenty years of that, and Ed might be scratching his balls, at the swimming pool, but giving different good advice- "We should invest in the Navajo nation, Bob. And there's this genius company in West Virginia, making ethanol from chips of wood- cheaper than drilling, Bob!"
Take this Environmental 911, and plant the seeds for a next generation, so that in 20 years, we, as a nation, can produce our own energy, avoid costly, useless wars, and not see dead oceans as business as usual.
No living animals- just a few dead fish and a jellyfish. Softball size spheres of crude floating ten feet under- and it was sticky. So sticky it would have been impossible for him to clean himself- it took the crew 30 minutes with brushes and Dawn.
Swimming, I thought of this- even diving down ten feet just for reference.
Finishing, I hit the showers, where, as usual, there were a few older white guys talking, drying off their jocks a little longer than necessary, etc...
"So, Ed, when should I buy BP? Last week, you told me when it goes below 30."
"It's below 30," said Ed. "And I'd wait a little longer."
"HA! So your good advice last week is no longer your good advice this week?"
"Yeah, and next week you'll get my "better" good advice than this week!"
They both chuckled, and continued the fastidious toweling off of their greying jocks, as I dressed and left.
What struck me about this whole situation was layered.
The backlash against BP, to them, and probably a majority of old school investors, was just temporary, and there would be a good time to capitalize on all this "negativity." Environmentalism was a moment, a temporary focus on a disaster which would pass, until business as usual returned.
The price then, of a dead ocean, could be reaped when the garunteed myopia of the world had moved onto some new crisis, perhaps a war in Korea, or Iran, or a new threat of processed uranium.
What would it take to change this? Other than tossing the legions of Ed's into the Gulf, to suck on softball sized spheres of oil?
A price index for sustainability. A monetary value on moral situations. Yes, something legal, which would make this "fluctuation" in stock prices a permanent change.
Last week, at a wedding, I spoke to a top Democratic policy maker, whom I won't name. He didn't say no when I asked if the Gulf spill was akin to an Environmentalists' 911.
"Sure, but other than giving political priority to a few pieces of pending legislation, like permitting off shore drilling, what's the gain?" he asked. "I help navigate these political moves, for quick gains, but will they really change things?"
What's not in place, it seemed, was what Cheney had in his backpocket when 911 rolled around- a core of fanatics who had planned out an invasion in the wake of just such a "sneak attack- akin to 911."
Environmentalism, to make true gains, needs to get off of coal. Needs to harness and develop wind and solar. We all know this. Soy- not the answer. Expensive subsidies for non-sustainable agriculture interests.
What then? What, ultimately would make Ed shift his "good advice" to investing in other areas that aren't business as usual?
In the same wedding conversation, the idea floated that finding the children growing up in Appalachia, whose fathers died from coal dust, or the Navajo children whose father died of uranium poisoning, or poverty due to coal mining, or the children of the gulf fisherman, whose future is now uncertain, and training them to create the industries of the future in their backyards- synthetic fuels from genetically altered bacteria in West Virginia, hydrogen engines(!!!) in Louisiana, or solar panels in the land of eternal sunshine, New Mexico.
Twenty years of that, and Ed might be scratching his balls, at the swimming pool, but giving different good advice- "We should invest in the Navajo nation, Bob. And there's this genius company in West Virginia, making ethanol from chips of wood- cheaper than drilling, Bob!"
Take this Environmental 911, and plant the seeds for a next generation, so that in 20 years, we, as a nation, can produce our own energy, avoid costly, useless wars, and not see dead oceans as business as usual.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Magic Plays Rondo
Game Three, Lakers Verus Celtics. Lakers up by 12 at halftime. Magic Johnson, considered one of the Top Five players in history, and perhaps the greatest Laker ever, sits across from Rajon Rondo, a new kid on the block, and begins firing him one question after another.
Me, I'm flashing back to Kung Fu, the old 70's show, where David Carradine is a young, bald apprentice, sitting cross legged from his blind, venerable master. Master is palming a pebble, and placidly holds it out in his palm.
Go ahead, take it, Rondo...I'm thinking. Grab the pebble.
Of course, the pebble represents greatness. And Rondo, as he is prone to do- reaches for it...
what do you know, but Magic closes his palm before the little guy can swipe it.
You got to ask yourself- Is Magic a neutral guy? Might he be bringing something to the table, in this interview (as part owner of the Lakers)? Might Magic, say, have a legacy and an organization to protect? Might he be playing chess with a young kid, just coming into his own?
Consider what's at stake: the Celtics have a two championship lead in the overall team standings. Consider also, that Rondo is being compared to Magic as a triple double machine. Magic's franchise and individual legacy are under attack.
So, the Answer, of course, is yes. Come grasshopper, come.
Watch for yourself...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BNn4hDmSouk
Key points:
2:52: Magic tells the story of Pat Riley turning over the Lakers to him, saying, "Riley approached Kareem and said, This is Magic's team now."
He follows with a question/ baited hook for Rondo:
"Did Doc River's do the same for you, saying, "this is Rondo's team now?"
3:19- "Yeah, in practices, Doc basically gave me more and more responsibility, and let me run the show. ...(I'm) really a coach on the floor."
The Effect?
Did Paul Pierce agree? How about Garnett? Or Allen? Do you think Doc Rivers wants this potential division cleaving his players into old versus new?
After that, Magic asks, "So, beating the Lakers in '08, what would happen if you beat them in 2010?"
Rondo's answer is essentially: "To win two out of four years, puts me in the same place as you, Magic, and Tony Parker. That's an honor, and beating the Lakers to do it is even better."
The Effect?
Lakers pride at stake. As if it weren't already.
Here's Rondo, comparing himself to the greatest Laker of all time. And already proclaiming his legend before the baby is born.
Think the Lakers aren't listening?
Take the pebble grasshopper. C'mon Rondo. A reach....a foul...
Magic just assisted his team again.
Just like that, the momentum of the series shifts. Stroking Rondo's ego before he's ready, or his team is ready to accept it, and stoking the Laker's flame....all in one masterful closing of the palm....
Magical indeed.
Seismic tremors build from the interview, and the long-term effects could be the defining moment of the series.
Magic Johnson - still the greatest Final's point guard in NBA history.....
Me, I'm flashing back to Kung Fu, the old 70's show, where David Carradine is a young, bald apprentice, sitting cross legged from his blind, venerable master. Master is palming a pebble, and placidly holds it out in his palm.
Go ahead, take it, Rondo...I'm thinking. Grab the pebble.
Of course, the pebble represents greatness. And Rondo, as he is prone to do- reaches for it...
what do you know, but Magic closes his palm before the little guy can swipe it.
You got to ask yourself- Is Magic a neutral guy? Might he be bringing something to the table, in this interview (as part owner of the Lakers)? Might Magic, say, have a legacy and an organization to protect? Might he be playing chess with a young kid, just coming into his own?
Consider what's at stake: the Celtics have a two championship lead in the overall team standings. Consider also, that Rondo is being compared to Magic as a triple double machine. Magic's franchise and individual legacy are under attack.
So, the Answer, of course, is yes. Come grasshopper, come.
Watch for yourself...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BNn4hDmSouk
Key points:
2:52: Magic tells the story of Pat Riley turning over the Lakers to him, saying, "Riley approached Kareem and said, This is Magic's team now."
He follows with a question/ baited hook for Rondo:
"Did Doc River's do the same for you, saying, "this is Rondo's team now?"
3:19- "Yeah, in practices, Doc basically gave me more and more responsibility, and let me run the show. ...(I'm) really a coach on the floor."
The Effect?
Did Paul Pierce agree? How about Garnett? Or Allen? Do you think Doc Rivers wants this potential division cleaving his players into old versus new?
After that, Magic asks, "So, beating the Lakers in '08, what would happen if you beat them in 2010?"
Rondo's answer is essentially: "To win two out of four years, puts me in the same place as you, Magic, and Tony Parker. That's an honor, and beating the Lakers to do it is even better."
The Effect?
Lakers pride at stake. As if it weren't already.
Here's Rondo, comparing himself to the greatest Laker of all time. And already proclaiming his legend before the baby is born.
Think the Lakers aren't listening?
Take the pebble grasshopper. C'mon Rondo. A reach....a foul...
Magic just assisted his team again.
Just like that, the momentum of the series shifts. Stroking Rondo's ego before he's ready, or his team is ready to accept it, and stoking the Laker's flame....all in one masterful closing of the palm....
Magical indeed.
Seismic tremors build from the interview, and the long-term effects could be the defining moment of the series.
Magic Johnson - still the greatest Final's point guard in NBA history.....
Intent
Whim and curiosity drive me, and so, will drive this blog.
While today could be about Magic Johnson's artful entrapment of Rajon Rondo during a halftime interview in Game Three of the 2010 NBA Finals, (perhaps the key turning point in the series), tomorrow could discuss the developing interest in Afro-Beat and Dub reggae currently building in a few key American cities.
I might re-create a conversation I have with a porno producer, or simply give you a fishing report from a Malibu beach. You might get a vivid description of my child's bowel movement, a kind of unique niche blog that has its origins in Japan.
I'm versatile.
Most likely, you will also see me make my job as interesting as possible. If you mash-up the movie CRASH, with the TV Show, X-Files, you get a good idea of my work- government official deals with the supernatural aspects of LA's race relation issues.
I'm saying here, now, that it's all unofficial, and any resemblence to real individuals is mere coincidence. Totally unintended. And most likely completely fictional.
Enjoy!
While today could be about Magic Johnson's artful entrapment of Rajon Rondo during a halftime interview in Game Three of the 2010 NBA Finals, (perhaps the key turning point in the series), tomorrow could discuss the developing interest in Afro-Beat and Dub reggae currently building in a few key American cities.
I might re-create a conversation I have with a porno producer, or simply give you a fishing report from a Malibu beach. You might get a vivid description of my child's bowel movement, a kind of unique niche blog that has its origins in Japan.
I'm versatile.
Most likely, you will also see me make my job as interesting as possible. If you mash-up the movie CRASH, with the TV Show, X-Files, you get a good idea of my work- government official deals with the supernatural aspects of LA's race relation issues.
I'm saying here, now, that it's all unofficial, and any resemblence to real individuals is mere coincidence. Totally unintended. And most likely completely fictional.
Enjoy!
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