So it seems we have next years MVP, crown him now, Charlotte/New Orleans/Oklahoma/Las Vegas/Seattle/Kansas City castoff: Baron Davis. At that would be the case if things keep going the way they are, fresh off his team's manhandling of this year's MVP and his team of Averites.
Now before you go “Joshua Downs” and start gulping the dark blue and orange colored Kool-Aid, think about this: Isn’t this whole situation so eerily similar to how ballyhooed we made Dirk last year before the Heat handed his German ass back to him on a Shaq-sized platter? Haven’t we learned?
Not to forget that Baron Davis is a shoot-first point guard - almost the same exact player that Stephon Marbury is, and there is nothing more the New York fans want to do than have Starbury’s in colors other than Orange and Blue. Marbury couldn’t carry the Knicks alone, neither can B-Diddy.
Forget about the fact that Baron has seemingly ignited these 8th place nobodies into playoff history, it hasn’t entirely been on B-Diddy’s oft-injured shoulders. Don’t forget about the career years from Monte Ellis and Matt 'Skelator' Barnes. Don’t forget about Stephen “I know I have a bad attitude but shut up I’ll shoot you” Jackson. Don’t forget about Al Harrington and his weird head dimples. And really don’t forget about the 7 foot tall skinny Latvian that almost totally made you Warrior fans forget that you threw a bucket of money at Adonal Foyle two seasons ago. (Who?) Most importantly, don’t forget who your coach is.
That’s right. The biggest part of this series hasn’t even been Baron Davis’s stellar play, splitting traps and hitting tough to damn near impossible jumpers. It wasn’t his teammates either. (Sorry Zarko Caparkapa)
It was good ol’ Donny Nelson, the Dallas Maverick outcast who they let go in order to give the reigns to newbie Avery Johnson.
Did we not forget that Nelson was the coach of the exact team they’re playing against for the last eight years of his coaching life? What, did you think he forgot his gameplans and Dallas playbooks down in Texas? He knows every detail of uber-star Dirk Nowitzki’s game from the turn-around fadeaways to the sky-scraping three pointers that he apparently takes way too much of. He knows the types of players Devin Harris and Josh Howard are… HE DRAFTED THEM. The only thing he didn’t know was the Erick Dampier could actually be useful, but hey, who did?
So before you go crazy and start pre-ordering Warriors finals tickets, remember that this was the same team that was just 42-40, a team that up until the last day was unsure of whether they would make the playoffs at all. And their center Andris Biedrins, as bronzed as his skin is, is still just 21. And so is Monte Ellis, despite the widely spread rumor that he’s actually a 13 year-old AAU player with sick hops.
And although this team was fully prepared for Dallas, what’s going to happen when Tim Duncan and his bland personality and style of basketball walks into the Oracle Arena and issues a personal and not-too flashy “welcome to the playoffs” spanking?
Get back to when they beat San Antonio. Because then maybe I too will be drinking some of the Kool-Aid. Oh Yeahhhhh!!!
Monday, April 30, 2007
Sunday, April 29, 2007
The Refs Strike Back
I recently took one of my routine trips to the local ‘R Us in search of my ever elusive Wii. After watching some spoiled brat pestering his father to buy him one too, his father acquiesced, and got the last one. THE LAST ONE!
He didn’t deserve it. Not after all the half-assed work and phone calls I had done to find one.
Anyway, the story has a point. The father, at first so reluctant to open his wallet, soon fell sucker to the cry-baby antics of his little brat of a child. And it makes me sick – not just because I don’t have my Wii, but also because these antics worked.
I see the same thing in the sports world. I understand that Tim Duncan shouldn’t be talking back to you. He should just play the game. But I’m sorry Mr. Joey Crawford, as much as you would like to be the main attraction, the reason the fans come to the arenas, YOU'RE NOT. There’s a reason why it says Knicks v. Bulls Tonight in bright lights not JOEY CRAWFORD officiates NBA Game. Thats why you’re on the welfare line.
You see it in football. These instant replays, instead of being the checking tool that they were designed to be have become “oh there isn’t a replay rule for that"-athons in which we waste four minutes of our lives staring at the officials finely tuned ass.
You see it in baseball. In a game of a recent game between the Yankees and the Boston Red Sox the umpire seemed to be on 4-second tape delay, almost to say, “Hey, I want my camera time.”
Then on half swings, the Third Base umpire so vehemently contorts his body, all to make sure that the batter 30 feet away knows whether or not he went around. Believe me a little fist pump would do.
Then in basketball it has become a big problem. Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you heard about the Joey Crawford debacle in which he lost his temper and decided to eject Tim Duncan and T up any other people who dare cracked a smile. I’m not saying that he wanted the attention, but seriously, should we know who the officials are other than seeing their names as a sidenote on a box score?
Other than Dick Bavetta’s hilarious footrace against the 400 lb. rent-losing machine in Charles Barkley, the officials shouldn’t even make the news at all.
But what annoys me beyond anything is something I just read in while browsing through the ESPN Message Boards. Apparently it wasn't just me that got the inclination that the refs are 'influencing' games as a response?
I know that’s quite a big scandal, one that might be even more disturbing than Hideki Matsui's 'extensive' porn collection. I know of it’s effect on an internationally popular sport. I don't want to do it but I just get that feeling. I’m just saying that there does seem to be a lot of upsets. And some of these questionable calls do seem to be going one way.
I know somebody else has had to notice. Extra three-second violations on Dallas. A traveling violation on Shaq. Stephen Jackson not getting technical fouls. Blame it on just ‘regular’ officiating but I see it as perhaps a message from the refs: Don’t mess with us.
If this was the case I don’t want it to become a scandal.
I don’t want it to become a black-eye of the sport not induced by a Ron Artest tantrum. I just want the refs to know that I've noticed, and I get the point. YOU WIN! But I’ll keep quiet as long as you call these games with your regular home-field biases. But please don’t ruin these playoffs, Stephen Jackson can do that by himself by leading the Warriors to the championship. He doesn’t need your help.
Jason Paderon is the co-founder, columnist, and cartoonist for ChewThemOut.com. Additionally, he was a news reporter for the Staten Island Advance. He can be reached at paderon@chewthemout.com.
He didn’t deserve it. Not after all the half-assed work and phone calls I had done to find one.
Anyway, the story has a point. The father, at first so reluctant to open his wallet, soon fell sucker to the cry-baby antics of his little brat of a child. And it makes me sick – not just because I don’t have my Wii, but also because these antics worked.
I see the same thing in the sports world. I understand that Tim Duncan shouldn’t be talking back to you. He should just play the game. But I’m sorry Mr. Joey Crawford, as much as you would like to be the main attraction, the reason the fans come to the arenas, YOU'RE NOT. There’s a reason why it says Knicks v. Bulls Tonight in bright lights not JOEY CRAWFORD officiates NBA Game. Thats why you’re on the welfare line.
You see it in football. These instant replays, instead of being the checking tool that they were designed to be have become “oh there isn’t a replay rule for that"-athons in which we waste four minutes of our lives staring at the officials finely tuned ass.
You see it in baseball. In a game of a recent game between the Yankees and the Boston Red Sox the umpire seemed to be on 4-second tape delay, almost to say, “Hey, I want my camera time.”
Then on half swings, the Third Base umpire so vehemently contorts his body, all to make sure that the batter 30 feet away knows whether or not he went around. Believe me a little fist pump would do.
Then in basketball it has become a big problem. Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you heard about the Joey Crawford debacle in which he lost his temper and decided to eject Tim Duncan and T up any other people who dare cracked a smile. I’m not saying that he wanted the attention, but seriously, should we know who the officials are other than seeing their names as a sidenote on a box score?
Other than Dick Bavetta’s hilarious footrace against the 400 lb. rent-losing machine in Charles Barkley, the officials shouldn’t even make the news at all.
But what annoys me beyond anything is something I just read in while browsing through the ESPN Message Boards. Apparently it wasn't just me that got the inclination that the refs are 'influencing' games as a response?
I know that’s quite a big scandal, one that might be even more disturbing than Hideki Matsui's 'extensive' porn collection. I know of it’s effect on an internationally popular sport. I don't want to do it but I just get that feeling. I’m just saying that there does seem to be a lot of upsets. And some of these questionable calls do seem to be going one way.
I know somebody else has had to notice. Extra three-second violations on Dallas. A traveling violation on Shaq. Stephen Jackson not getting technical fouls. Blame it on just ‘regular’ officiating but I see it as perhaps a message from the refs: Don’t mess with us.
If this was the case I don’t want it to become a scandal.
I don’t want it to become a black-eye of the sport not induced by a Ron Artest tantrum. I just want the refs to know that I've noticed, and I get the point. YOU WIN! But I’ll keep quiet as long as you call these games with your regular home-field biases. But please don’t ruin these playoffs, Stephen Jackson can do that by himself by leading the Warriors to the championship. He doesn’t need your help.
Jason Paderon is the co-founder, columnist, and cartoonist for ChewThemOut.com. Additionally, he was a news reporter for the Staten Island Advance. He can be reached at paderon@chewthemout.com.
Saturday, April 28, 2007
2007 NFL Draft Journal
If you missed the NFL Draft, fret none, cuz Maz and Danny got cha back, suckah. Here are the notable events:
12:00 Mike Vick has yet to leave the stage. Apparently Bruce Smith needs directions to his house.
12:15 Michael Vick is the first to congratulate new Raiders QB Jamarcus Russell, and hands him a copy of his new book: Believe Your Own Hype, But Never Live Up To It (Bonus Chapter: Passive Income From Pitbulls)
12:25 Calvin Johnson is crying after getting off the phone. Apparently, he received some discouraging words from his new QB Jon Kitna: "I'm going to be throwing you the ball."
12:26 Keyshawn Johnson explains to everyone how Calvin Johnson is not the best WR ever drafted named Johnson.
12:30 Calvin Johnson is officially selected by the Lions. The fans cheer him for the last time, as they're not expected to see him on TV for the next several years.
12:33 Browns are up. Everyone in the Green room have turned off their cell phones.
12:38 Footage: Joe Thomas is out fishing right now.
12:41 Brady Quinn is shown sporting his new threads from the Michael Irvin Jive Soul Shop.
12:42 Cleveland selects Joe Thomas.
12:43 Joe Thomas legally changes his name to Brady Quinn.
12:48 Steve Young checks his watch. He hopes he can stick around for the Niners pick before his next Botox injection at 2:40.
12:50 Adrian Peterson sprains wrist picking up the phone. Surgery is expected.
12:51 Mike Martz has hired NFL Draft Consultant Dikembe Mutumbo to reject all trade offers for his new crowning jewel, Calvin Johnson.
12:54 Gaines Adams shows off his trendy urban haircut which features the word "BUST" shaved into his head.
12:57 Gaines Adams is selected by the Bucs.
1:01 JaMarcus Russell signs his first endorsement deal with fast food juggernaut McDonalds.
1:04 Levi Brown is selected by the Cardinals, and instantly pimped out as the face of UPS new marketing campaign: Who Can Brown Block For You?
1:06 PM Dan Snyder is talking to Keyshawn Johnson at the ESPN desk.
1:08 PM #6 is dealt to Carolina for Key
1:10 PM Keyshawn restructures deal to become highest paid WR in league history.
1:11 Redskins are on the clock. Eli and Archie Manning are shown praying that Amobi Okoye isn't selected.
1:13 PM LaRon Landry is shown wearing a tie. Lets see if this effects his draft status.
1:16 PM Sean Taylor calls up LaRon Landry. Asks him if he wants to go to the shooting range tomorrow.
1:17 PM LaRon Landry is selected by the Redskins. He is projected to start at the Get Ran Over by Brandon Jacobs position.
1:17 PM Vikings are now on the clock.
1:18 Mel Kiper takes two Tums capsules to settle his underlying virus: diarrhea of the mouth.
1:26 A sweaty and unshaven Mike Tice runs up to the podium to select QB Byron Leftwich.
1:27 Mike Tice is carried away by security.
1:28 Vikings select Adrian Peterson.
1:29: Adrian Peterson sprains his face smiling for a picture.
1:35 Brady Quinn smiles at Rachel Nichols. Her panties drop faster than Quinn's draft stock.
1:38: Atlanta is getting ready to pick Amobi Okoye.
1:39 Atlanta selects Jamaal Anderson. Okoye wonders if Jamaal Anderson is English for Amobi Okoye.
1:40 Rich McKay is bitten by stray dog.
1:41 Mike Vick promises to take care of it. He hands McKay a copy of his book.
1:43 Rumor circulates that Vince Young's forehead has tested positive for steroids.
1:49 Tom Brady marks his territory by impregnating The Pussycat Dolls before Quinn has his shot at them.
1:51 Dolphins select Ted Ginn. Brady Quinn shows a disgenuine smile. Women all over the country faint.
1:52 Ted Ginn Jr runs a 4.29 forty to the podium. Unfortunately he ran a slant instead of a post and instead of the podium he wound up in the Green Room
1:57 Quinn's girlfriend is shown with a fresh black eye.
2:01 Texans call Amobi Okoye. No answer. Spongebob is on.
2:04 Texans select Amobi Okoye
2:09 Undrafted Brady Quinn is shown with a new, less hot girlfriend.
2:13 Amobi Okoye takes phone call from Houston and they tell him they're going to draft him. Amobi asks "can I really play on two teams?"
2:14 Brady Quinn receives a phone call from Matt Leinart. He sends his condolences in the form of Paris Hilton.
2:16 Feeling desperate, Brady Quinn hires Terrell Owens as his publicist.
2:17 Brady Quinn's ex girlfriend is shown with Tom Brady. She's expecting their first child any minute now.
2:20 49ers select Patrick Willis.
2:22 Patrick Willis puts in Madden 07 to practice breaking Shaun Alexanders leg.
2:28 Bills select Marshawn Lynch.
2:29 Marv Levy's test results confirm Alzheimers'.
2:32 Marshawn Lynch picks Roger Goodells wallet.
2:33 Brian Belichick wonders to himself "do I really need any help?"
2:35 Mel Kiper takes down all previous mock drafts and then puts up his current draft chart.
2:39 Rams select Adam Carriker.
2:41 ESPN goes to find Adam Carriker to interview
2:44 Jets trade up with the Panthers.
2:48 Chad Pennington's daughter throws a bullet pass to him. Pennington throws a two-hopper back to her.
2:50 "I'm not Adam Carriker guys, I'm Grant Wistrom"
2:55 Jets select Darrelle Revis.
2:57 Upon the Jets landing Revis, the New England Patriots trade for Randy Moss, Larry Fitzgerald, and Steve Smith.
2:59 Brady Quinn's ex gives birth to Tom Brady's child.
3:01 Brady's child goes #16 overall to the Pittsburgh Steelers.
3:02 Packers mull over taking a sickly person with their pick rationalizing that if he dies during the year it means at least one mega Favre game.
3:07 Packers end up drafting Brady Quinn's body. They're working on a way to transplant Favre's soul into it.
3:13 Harrell gets a call from GB saying they'll draft him. Harrell says "C'mon Meachem, quit foolin'"
3:16 Steve Young makes a point and once again forget the camera will stay on him once he finishes talking.
3:25 Denvers trade up to get Jarvis Moss. Apparently, they thought they were trading for Randy Moss.
3:30 Jarvis Moss gets a call from his Probation Officer. Moss explains he's had no run ins with the law. The PO says "not yet".
3:31 Sports Guy is pissed at us. He can't fathom us going three and a half hours with so few Patriots blurbs.
3:37 Marvin Lewis casts Level 3 Revive on Johnny Cochran. The Cincinnati Bengals then select him with the 18th pick.
3:39 Chris Henry explodes at the announcement of the Leon Hall pick. He had already made arrangements with Dwayne Bowe to have a DD around.
3:41 Hot girl on screen. First hot girl we've seen all day.
3:43 Upon further review, we still prefer Brady Quinn.
3:45 Jacksonville is still contemplating taking Quinn. Current reason why they should: Not black
3:48 Vince Young welcomes Michael Griffin to the Titans. He asks Young if he's worried about the Madden Curse. Young is surprised.
3:49: Joe Thomas is lost at Sea.
3:50 Calvin Johnson holds a press conference. While he only used marijuana on rare occasions, crack is a different story.
3:51 Vince Young's agent reads him an article about the Madden Curse. Young tries to convince fellow scholar Lendale White to take his place.
3:52 Lendale White eats Vince Young. Titans have found their franchise left tackle.
3:56 Giants on the clock. Maz holds his breath.
3:57 Michael Irvin leaves set to go "mentor" Calvin Johnson.
3:58 Giants forfeit their pick to the Chargers as gratitude for the Eli Manning trade.
3:59 Giants draft The Dog Whisperer to keep Plaxico Burress in line.
4:00 Okay, okay, Giants draft 34 year old rookie Aaron Ross.
4:01 Steve Young continues to show concussions do effect you.
4:02 Mark May replaces Michael Irvin as least knowledgable analyst.
4:03 Jags draft Reggie Nelson.
4:04 Reggie Nelson begins octagon training with Donovan Darius
4:14 High character Calvin Johnson reveals Crips gang ties.
4:16 Danny Wilson wonders why he is yet to be drafted. He is a 99 overall in Madden.
4:17 Browns now have 2 Brady Quinn's on their roster.
4:18 Brady Quinn II plans holdout with Browns.
4:19 Mike Martz announces the following hirings as his special assistants; Jamaal Robinson, Tyrone Shaw and Mohammed X
4:20 Gaines Adams is nowhere to be found.
4:24 Gaines Adams reappears with a bag of Doritos and a steak quesadilla.
4:25 Cleveland doctors check Quinn for bed sores.
4:32 Dwayne Bowe gets the news he's been dreading, he's heading to KC.
4:33 Herm Edwards calls Bowe to tell him he should see the ball 5 or 6 times this year over 15 yards.
4:40 Patriots select Jessica Alba at the request of Tom Brady.
4:47 Brandon Merriweather drafted by New England.
4:48 Brandon Merriweather helps old women across the street.
4:51 Cleveland Browns set out on jetskis to find their new teammate Joe Thomas.
5:00 Dallas and Philly make a trade.
5:03 Jaws kills himself.
5:07 Cowboys end up taking Anthony Spencer to fill their need of guys with two first names.
5:08 The Eagles plan of assisting in the demise of Donnovan McNabb continues.
5:13 Kellen Winslow's jet ski flips over while attempting a stunt.
5:19 A shark bites off Kellen Winslow's left leg. Luckily, 75% of KDub is better than 100% of anyone else.
5:20 Meachem is pissed that anything nice he buys he can't leave in New Orleans.
5:25 Drew Rosenhaus calls Todd McShay and says he may've won this round, but next time he won't be so lucky.
5:27 Kellen Winslow kills the shark. He's a F'n soldier.
5:31 Braylon Edwards kicks Charlie Frye off the back of his jet ski.
5:33 Edwards goes back and runs him over. Frye, dead at 25.
5:34 Niners trade up for Joe Staley.
5:36 Joe Staley begins making plans to move in with Chris Kaman.
5:43 Alan Branch makes his 7th sack of the game in NCAA 07. He sends his tape off to San Diego.
5:50 Keyshawn says Jarrett reminds him of himself. Jarrett slips to the 4th round.
5:57 Chargers select WR Craig Davis.
6:00 Craig Davis sends Keyshawn a dozen blunts for lowering Jarretts stock.
6:05 Lance Briggs calls Greg Olsen. Demands he sides with him or he'll kill his first born.
6:20 Ginn wonders why Gonzalez gets Manning? Ginn would've settled for Eli.
6:27 Cardinals draft Alan Branch, who eats his jersey.
6:51 After helping the Cowboys draft the end to kill McNabb, Eagles reach for his replacement, Kevin on the Kolb. Everyone questions the picks. Jaws convinces us he's the next Favre.
7:31 Dwayne Jarrett and Keyshawn Johnson speak via cell phone. They plan on switching jerseys come game days. No one will notice the difference.
7:47 Joe Thomas is helped to shore by former forward/current pirate Bison Dele.
8:08 Giants stop torturing me for once and draft USC's Steve Smith, a veritable god among men.
8:19 Raiders trade for Lions McCown and Big Mike Williams. McCown was brought in to start the season at QB. Big Mike was brought in so Russell doesn't feel alone when he comes into training camp 50 lbs overweight.
8:26 Detroit and Cleveland making moves that make sense. Journal ends before World implodes.
Originally Posted on ChewThemOut.com by Mario Castelli and Danny Wilson
12:00 Mike Vick has yet to leave the stage. Apparently Bruce Smith needs directions to his house.
12:15 Michael Vick is the first to congratulate new Raiders QB Jamarcus Russell, and hands him a copy of his new book: Believe Your Own Hype, But Never Live Up To It (Bonus Chapter: Passive Income From Pitbulls)
12:25 Calvin Johnson is crying after getting off the phone. Apparently, he received some discouraging words from his new QB Jon Kitna: "I'm going to be throwing you the ball."
12:26 Keyshawn Johnson explains to everyone how Calvin Johnson is not the best WR ever drafted named Johnson.
12:30 Calvin Johnson is officially selected by the Lions. The fans cheer him for the last time, as they're not expected to see him on TV for the next several years.
12:33 Browns are up. Everyone in the Green room have turned off their cell phones.
12:38 Footage: Joe Thomas is out fishing right now.
12:41 Brady Quinn is shown sporting his new threads from the Michael Irvin Jive Soul Shop.
12:42 Cleveland selects Joe Thomas.
12:43 Joe Thomas legally changes his name to Brady Quinn.
12:48 Steve Young checks his watch. He hopes he can stick around for the Niners pick before his next Botox injection at 2:40.
12:50 Adrian Peterson sprains wrist picking up the phone. Surgery is expected.
12:51 Mike Martz has hired NFL Draft Consultant Dikembe Mutumbo to reject all trade offers for his new crowning jewel, Calvin Johnson.
12:54 Gaines Adams shows off his trendy urban haircut which features the word "BUST" shaved into his head.
12:57 Gaines Adams is selected by the Bucs.
1:01 JaMarcus Russell signs his first endorsement deal with fast food juggernaut McDonalds.
1:04 Levi Brown is selected by the Cardinals, and instantly pimped out as the face of UPS new marketing campaign: Who Can Brown Block For You?
1:06 PM Dan Snyder is talking to Keyshawn Johnson at the ESPN desk.
1:08 PM #6 is dealt to Carolina for Key
1:10 PM Keyshawn restructures deal to become highest paid WR in league history.
1:11 Redskins are on the clock. Eli and Archie Manning are shown praying that Amobi Okoye isn't selected.
1:13 PM LaRon Landry is shown wearing a tie. Lets see if this effects his draft status.
1:16 PM Sean Taylor calls up LaRon Landry. Asks him if he wants to go to the shooting range tomorrow.
1:17 PM LaRon Landry is selected by the Redskins. He is projected to start at the Get Ran Over by Brandon Jacobs position.
1:17 PM Vikings are now on the clock.
1:18 Mel Kiper takes two Tums capsules to settle his underlying virus: diarrhea of the mouth.
1:26 A sweaty and unshaven Mike Tice runs up to the podium to select QB Byron Leftwich.
1:27 Mike Tice is carried away by security.
1:28 Vikings select Adrian Peterson.
1:29: Adrian Peterson sprains his face smiling for a picture.
1:35 Brady Quinn smiles at Rachel Nichols. Her panties drop faster than Quinn's draft stock.
1:38: Atlanta is getting ready to pick Amobi Okoye.
1:39 Atlanta selects Jamaal Anderson. Okoye wonders if Jamaal Anderson is English for Amobi Okoye.
1:40 Rich McKay is bitten by stray dog.
1:41 Mike Vick promises to take care of it. He hands McKay a copy of his book.
1:43 Rumor circulates that Vince Young's forehead has tested positive for steroids.
1:49 Tom Brady marks his territory by impregnating The Pussycat Dolls before Quinn has his shot at them.
1:51 Dolphins select Ted Ginn. Brady Quinn shows a disgenuine smile. Women all over the country faint.
1:52 Ted Ginn Jr runs a 4.29 forty to the podium. Unfortunately he ran a slant instead of a post and instead of the podium he wound up in the Green Room
1:57 Quinn's girlfriend is shown with a fresh black eye.
2:01 Texans call Amobi Okoye. No answer. Spongebob is on.
2:04 Texans select Amobi Okoye
2:09 Undrafted Brady Quinn is shown with a new, less hot girlfriend.
2:13 Amobi Okoye takes phone call from Houston and they tell him they're going to draft him. Amobi asks "can I really play on two teams?"
2:14 Brady Quinn receives a phone call from Matt Leinart. He sends his condolences in the form of Paris Hilton.
2:16 Feeling desperate, Brady Quinn hires Terrell Owens as his publicist.
2:17 Brady Quinn's ex girlfriend is shown with Tom Brady. She's expecting their first child any minute now.
2:20 49ers select Patrick Willis.
2:22 Patrick Willis puts in Madden 07 to practice breaking Shaun Alexanders leg.
2:28 Bills select Marshawn Lynch.
2:29 Marv Levy's test results confirm Alzheimers'.
2:32 Marshawn Lynch picks Roger Goodells wallet.
2:33 Brian Belichick wonders to himself "do I really need any help?"
2:35 Mel Kiper takes down all previous mock drafts and then puts up his current draft chart.
2:39 Rams select Adam Carriker.
2:41 ESPN goes to find Adam Carriker to interview
2:44 Jets trade up with the Panthers.
2:48 Chad Pennington's daughter throws a bullet pass to him. Pennington throws a two-hopper back to her.
2:50 "I'm not Adam Carriker guys, I'm Grant Wistrom"
2:55 Jets select Darrelle Revis.
2:57 Upon the Jets landing Revis, the New England Patriots trade for Randy Moss, Larry Fitzgerald, and Steve Smith.
2:59 Brady Quinn's ex gives birth to Tom Brady's child.
3:01 Brady's child goes #16 overall to the Pittsburgh Steelers.
3:02 Packers mull over taking a sickly person with their pick rationalizing that if he dies during the year it means at least one mega Favre game.
3:07 Packers end up drafting Brady Quinn's body. They're working on a way to transplant Favre's soul into it.
3:13 Harrell gets a call from GB saying they'll draft him. Harrell says "C'mon Meachem, quit foolin'"
3:16 Steve Young makes a point and once again forget the camera will stay on him once he finishes talking.
3:25 Denvers trade up to get Jarvis Moss. Apparently, they thought they were trading for Randy Moss.
3:30 Jarvis Moss gets a call from his Probation Officer. Moss explains he's had no run ins with the law. The PO says "not yet".
3:31 Sports Guy is pissed at us. He can't fathom us going three and a half hours with so few Patriots blurbs.
3:37 Marvin Lewis casts Level 3 Revive on Johnny Cochran. The Cincinnati Bengals then select him with the 18th pick.
3:39 Chris Henry explodes at the announcement of the Leon Hall pick. He had already made arrangements with Dwayne Bowe to have a DD around.
3:41 Hot girl on screen. First hot girl we've seen all day.
3:43 Upon further review, we still prefer Brady Quinn.
3:45 Jacksonville is still contemplating taking Quinn. Current reason why they should: Not black
3:48 Vince Young welcomes Michael Griffin to the Titans. He asks Young if he's worried about the Madden Curse. Young is surprised.
3:49: Joe Thomas is lost at Sea.
3:50 Calvin Johnson holds a press conference. While he only used marijuana on rare occasions, crack is a different story.
3:51 Vince Young's agent reads him an article about the Madden Curse. Young tries to convince fellow scholar Lendale White to take his place.
3:52 Lendale White eats Vince Young. Titans have found their franchise left tackle.
3:56 Giants on the clock. Maz holds his breath.
3:57 Michael Irvin leaves set to go "mentor" Calvin Johnson.
3:58 Giants forfeit their pick to the Chargers as gratitude for the Eli Manning trade.
3:59 Giants draft The Dog Whisperer to keep Plaxico Burress in line.
4:00 Okay, okay, Giants draft 34 year old rookie Aaron Ross.
4:01 Steve Young continues to show concussions do effect you.
4:02 Mark May replaces Michael Irvin as least knowledgable analyst.
4:03 Jags draft Reggie Nelson.
4:04 Reggie Nelson begins octagon training with Donovan Darius
4:14 High character Calvin Johnson reveals Crips gang ties.
4:16 Danny Wilson wonders why he is yet to be drafted. He is a 99 overall in Madden.
4:17 Browns now have 2 Brady Quinn's on their roster.
4:18 Brady Quinn II plans holdout with Browns.
4:19 Mike Martz announces the following hirings as his special assistants; Jamaal Robinson, Tyrone Shaw and Mohammed X
4:20 Gaines Adams is nowhere to be found.
4:24 Gaines Adams reappears with a bag of Doritos and a steak quesadilla.
4:25 Cleveland doctors check Quinn for bed sores.
4:32 Dwayne Bowe gets the news he's been dreading, he's heading to KC.
4:33 Herm Edwards calls Bowe to tell him he should see the ball 5 or 6 times this year over 15 yards.
4:40 Patriots select Jessica Alba at the request of Tom Brady.
4:47 Brandon Merriweather drafted by New England.
4:48 Brandon Merriweather helps old women across the street.
4:51 Cleveland Browns set out on jetskis to find their new teammate Joe Thomas.
5:00 Dallas and Philly make a trade.
5:03 Jaws kills himself.
5:07 Cowboys end up taking Anthony Spencer to fill their need of guys with two first names.
5:08 The Eagles plan of assisting in the demise of Donnovan McNabb continues.
5:13 Kellen Winslow's jet ski flips over while attempting a stunt.
5:19 A shark bites off Kellen Winslow's left leg. Luckily, 75% of KDub is better than 100% of anyone else.
5:20 Meachem is pissed that anything nice he buys he can't leave in New Orleans.
5:25 Drew Rosenhaus calls Todd McShay and says he may've won this round, but next time he won't be so lucky.
5:27 Kellen Winslow kills the shark. He's a F'n soldier.
5:31 Braylon Edwards kicks Charlie Frye off the back of his jet ski.
5:33 Edwards goes back and runs him over. Frye, dead at 25.
5:34 Niners trade up for Joe Staley.
5:36 Joe Staley begins making plans to move in with Chris Kaman.
5:43 Alan Branch makes his 7th sack of the game in NCAA 07. He sends his tape off to San Diego.
5:50 Keyshawn says Jarrett reminds him of himself. Jarrett slips to the 4th round.
5:57 Chargers select WR Craig Davis.
6:00 Craig Davis sends Keyshawn a dozen blunts for lowering Jarretts stock.
6:05 Lance Briggs calls Greg Olsen. Demands he sides with him or he'll kill his first born.
6:20 Ginn wonders why Gonzalez gets Manning? Ginn would've settled for Eli.
6:27 Cardinals draft Alan Branch, who eats his jersey.
6:51 After helping the Cowboys draft the end to kill McNabb, Eagles reach for his replacement, Kevin on the Kolb. Everyone questions the picks. Jaws convinces us he's the next Favre.
7:31 Dwayne Jarrett and Keyshawn Johnson speak via cell phone. They plan on switching jerseys come game days. No one will notice the difference.
7:47 Joe Thomas is helped to shore by former forward/current pirate Bison Dele.
8:08 Giants stop torturing me for once and draft USC's Steve Smith, a veritable god among men.
8:19 Raiders trade for Lions McCown and Big Mike Williams. McCown was brought in to start the season at QB. Big Mike was brought in so Russell doesn't feel alone when he comes into training camp 50 lbs overweight.
8:26 Detroit and Cleveland making moves that make sense. Journal ends before World implodes.
Originally Posted on ChewThemOut.com by Mario Castelli and Danny Wilson
Friday, April 27, 2007
Give Me Football or Give Me Death
231 years after Massachusetts delegate John Hancock placed the first and largest signature on the Declaration of Independence, hence declaring our founding fathers commitment to freedom, patriotism, and the protection of our civil liberties, NFL commissioner Roger Goodell is taking monumental steps to destroy the spirit and tradition this magnificent nation was built upon.
Alright, Goodell may not be Benedict Arnold but his recent exploration of possibly hosting a Super Bowl outside the borders of the United States (London, Toronto, or Mexico City) is preposterous, absurd, and downright un-American.
Goodell, who took the commissioner reigns following Paul Tagliabue’s retirement after the 2006-2007 season, is attempting to follow the NBA’s widely successful movement to “globalize” the league. Unfortunately the NFL does not have the worldwide appeal of the NBA, which showcases foreign superstars such as China’s Yao Ming and Germany’s Dirk Nowitzki.
The game of football is an art in this country. The weekly tradition of watching our favorite players risk body, mind, and soul in an attempt to get an odd shaped ball into a 10 yard, colorfully painted end zone, has little to no competition, unless you count Sunday mass… and even then the only Hail Mary most of us know was a 48 yard pass by the Reverend Doug Flutie in 1984.
The NFL Europe was a failure of epic proportions. There is no longer a team in Spain, Italy, or anywhere besides Germany. Playing in the leagues foreign sect is as productive for a player, as a horse’s career decision to take a practice run to the glue factory. The game has no foreign appeal. The values and aspects of the game are uniquely American. From the hard hits, to the big plays, and the scantily clad cheerleaders, football has become a showcase of American society, a three hour celebration of the perks of living in freedom, freedom to tailgate, freedom to drink, and freedom to hate Terrell Owens
If Goodell makes the mistake of moving the Super Bowl, the one day of the year the many legions of American culture put aside their differences to sit together over wings, beer and Britney Spears, to another country, the heart and soul of our nation will be displaced. To start a Super Bowl at 11 pm (The Untied States and London have a five hour time difference) is something I never though I would have to comprehend and hope I never have to witness.
The league will inevitably try to tell us that hosting America’s proudest moment within the borders of a country that wouldn’t mind seeing us blown off the globe, will help spread the culture, demeanor, and passion of the American people. If I want to spread our culture I’ll grab a pack of hamburgers, travel to Iraq, and host a BBQ for the Iraqi “citizens” over the flames of a road-side bomb. That’s spreading culture; keep my football on home soil.
The reality is the rest of the world doesn’t care about football. In fact most disagree with the name of the sport as much as they loathe American’s foreign policy. Hell we were arrogant enough to take the world’s most popular game, invented in 1863, and say “Fuck football, we are going to call it soccer. Why? Because we have a better game, you might not use your foot but we are going to call it football anyway.”
So Mr. Goodell I beg of you, move exhibition games overseas, take a regular season game if you must, but leave us the one holiday American’s hold most sacred, Super Bowl Sunday. If the great patriot Patrick Henry were alive today he would put it a bit more poetically…
“Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me football or give me death!”
If you’re confused why such an atrocity would even be considered, remember we do these things because we are Americans. Over 150 nations signed the environmentally friendly Kyoto Treaty. We didn’t. Why? Because we are proud Americans, and we want our fucking football.
Originally posted at ChewThemOut.com by Andrew Minucci
Alright, Goodell may not be Benedict Arnold but his recent exploration of possibly hosting a Super Bowl outside the borders of the United States (London, Toronto, or Mexico City) is preposterous, absurd, and downright un-American.
Goodell, who took the commissioner reigns following Paul Tagliabue’s retirement after the 2006-2007 season, is attempting to follow the NBA’s widely successful movement to “globalize” the league. Unfortunately the NFL does not have the worldwide appeal of the NBA, which showcases foreign superstars such as China’s Yao Ming and Germany’s Dirk Nowitzki.
The game of football is an art in this country. The weekly tradition of watching our favorite players risk body, mind, and soul in an attempt to get an odd shaped ball into a 10 yard, colorfully painted end zone, has little to no competition, unless you count Sunday mass… and even then the only Hail Mary most of us know was a 48 yard pass by the Reverend Doug Flutie in 1984.
The NFL Europe was a failure of epic proportions. There is no longer a team in Spain, Italy, or anywhere besides Germany. Playing in the leagues foreign sect is as productive for a player, as a horse’s career decision to take a practice run to the glue factory. The game has no foreign appeal. The values and aspects of the game are uniquely American. From the hard hits, to the big plays, and the scantily clad cheerleaders, football has become a showcase of American society, a three hour celebration of the perks of living in freedom, freedom to tailgate, freedom to drink, and freedom to hate Terrell Owens
If Goodell makes the mistake of moving the Super Bowl, the one day of the year the many legions of American culture put aside their differences to sit together over wings, beer and Britney Spears, to another country, the heart and soul of our nation will be displaced. To start a Super Bowl at 11 pm (The Untied States and London have a five hour time difference) is something I never though I would have to comprehend and hope I never have to witness.
The league will inevitably try to tell us that hosting America’s proudest moment within the borders of a country that wouldn’t mind seeing us blown off the globe, will help spread the culture, demeanor, and passion of the American people. If I want to spread our culture I’ll grab a pack of hamburgers, travel to Iraq, and host a BBQ for the Iraqi “citizens” over the flames of a road-side bomb. That’s spreading culture; keep my football on home soil.
The reality is the rest of the world doesn’t care about football. In fact most disagree with the name of the sport as much as they loathe American’s foreign policy. Hell we were arrogant enough to take the world’s most popular game, invented in 1863, and say “Fuck football, we are going to call it soccer. Why? Because we have a better game, you might not use your foot but we are going to call it football anyway.”
So Mr. Goodell I beg of you, move exhibition games overseas, take a regular season game if you must, but leave us the one holiday American’s hold most sacred, Super Bowl Sunday. If the great patriot Patrick Henry were alive today he would put it a bit more poetically…
“Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me football or give me death!”
If you’re confused why such an atrocity would even be considered, remember we do these things because we are Americans. Over 150 nations signed the environmentally friendly Kyoto Treaty. We didn’t. Why? Because we are proud Americans, and we want our fucking football.
Originally posted at ChewThemOut.com by Andrew Minucci
The Dumb Get Richer
Remember back in middle school when your mother told you not to tease the Poindexter in the front of the class because “When he grows up, he’s going to be rich.” Undoubtedly, us jocks, especially the ones like me who constantly made fun of everything about them understood. It was just the ways of the world even if you hated the way they talked, the way they walked, the way they carried themselves, and especially the way they breathed a lot louder than everyone during the tests because they just got so excited. God, I hated that.
But we picked on them because it was supposed to be how world evened out; we were blessed with coordination, good looks, and muscles, and they get good grades and became our bosses and multi-millionaires. It was a pretty fair trade-off in my opinion.
Most recently, however, this has not been the case. Doctors have no money because lawyers just won’t stop suing him for malpractice. And lawyers aren’t even rich because they need to pay their ex-wives alimony since they just didn’t learn the social skills because they were actually studying in school. This has been leaving the dorks of the world crying foul and like George Costanza with pigeons, screaming “We had a deal!”
Now the jock’ salaries have become inflated bigger than Charles Barkley in retirement. They’re making more than some CEO’s! This wasn’t the case back in the day, but today’s athletes’ salaries actually can compete with that of the owners that sign the checks. And to make things worse, now they’re beginning to take over the traditional ‘smart people’ jobs. (BOOYAH! Take that Lloyd!)
They’re the color commentators (Walt Frazier), the morning show hosts (Tiki Barber), minority owners (Michael Jordan) and going along with a recent popular trend: Authors.
You know its one thing when if Michael Jordan writes a book because we genuinely wanted to hear of his perils with mere mortality. But do you really care about the gay 12th man on the Orlando Magic from the era in between great Irish players? (Shaquille O’Neal and Tracy McGrady )
I know I don’t.
And does anybody else find it funny when Kevin Garnett hosts a “Read to Achieve” program? Well isn't that like asking Shaq for Free-throw tips? He didn’t go to college! And it wasn’t because he didn’t want to, either. He failed to get the required SAT score to go. (apparently he couldn’t remember how many N’s and T’s there were in ‘Garnett’) And it doesn’t even matter since the only thing Garnett’s read in the past seven days is his bank statement which is filled with zero’s due to checks not so surprisingly signed by another athlete: Kevin McHale. UNBELIEVABLE!
David Stern has made it known that wants to create a positive image for the NBA in the eyes of the public. That’s why Marcus Camby needed to cash in his swear jar to buy a suit. (Apparently he wears Sean John velour suits to funerals.) But you need to call a spade a spade, even if that spade is a ghettoed out tattooed up, headband/shooting sleeve/leg tights/Jewelry wearing illiterate malcontent.
But what I just didn’t understand is what exactly makes these superiorly-built athletic machines with bird-brains so intriguing to the readers of America.
Then I read an article at the paper I work for, the Staten Island Advance, that stated that the Parks Department misspelled the word ‘Yield’ on their signs. The damn government-run Parks Department sign, with its emblem so proudly painted on the sign. If the government can’t read then what could be said about its people?
But who am I to judge this on your behalf. Maybe you’d like to hear Jose’s tale of “Me Suked so MarK Mgwire put injecshuns in my but” which after the editor was through with it looked like: “I constantly pondered my options. Stay with my current skill set and fade into obsurity, or take these injections and feed my family for ten more years. Did I really have a choice? No. McGwire thought the same.” (Note: Not excerpted from the book… I never read it)
Do you really care how or why Pete Rose lied…62 years after the fact he gambled? Do you care why Jose Canseco decided to stick steroid-filled syringes up his finely-tuned ass? Do you care that John Amaechi is a former gay athlete? Of course you do. But if you asked me, I’d rather read it on ESPN than from someone who achieved their degree from the school of hard knocks.
Don’t misconstrue this as a diss to all athletes. It’s fine for me, I’m a jock. I’ve been happy to reap the benefits of a boosted grade and excused absenses from the classes I find so boring. I’m happy to reap the benefits of their (editors’) hard work and I’ll be glad to push over the Mike Lupicas of the world along the way. (I’ll shoot at your lip)
All I’m saying is that we are making these fourth-grade level writers into New York Times bestsellers… and we wonder why that ‘Yield’ sign is misspelled.
But we picked on them because it was supposed to be how world evened out; we were blessed with coordination, good looks, and muscles, and they get good grades and became our bosses and multi-millionaires. It was a pretty fair trade-off in my opinion.
Most recently, however, this has not been the case. Doctors have no money because lawyers just won’t stop suing him for malpractice. And lawyers aren’t even rich because they need to pay their ex-wives alimony since they just didn’t learn the social skills because they were actually studying in school. This has been leaving the dorks of the world crying foul and like George Costanza with pigeons, screaming “We had a deal!”
Now the jock’ salaries have become inflated bigger than Charles Barkley in retirement. They’re making more than some CEO’s! This wasn’t the case back in the day, but today’s athletes’ salaries actually can compete with that of the owners that sign the checks. And to make things worse, now they’re beginning to take over the traditional ‘smart people’ jobs. (BOOYAH! Take that Lloyd!)
They’re the color commentators (Walt Frazier), the morning show hosts (Tiki Barber), minority owners (Michael Jordan) and going along with a recent popular trend: Authors.
You know its one thing when if Michael Jordan writes a book because we genuinely wanted to hear of his perils with mere mortality. But do you really care about the gay 12th man on the Orlando Magic from the era in between great Irish players? (Shaquille O’Neal and Tracy McGrady )
I know I don’t.
And does anybody else find it funny when Kevin Garnett hosts a “Read to Achieve” program? Well isn't that like asking Shaq for Free-throw tips? He didn’t go to college! And it wasn’t because he didn’t want to, either. He failed to get the required SAT score to go. (apparently he couldn’t remember how many N’s and T’s there were in ‘Garnett’) And it doesn’t even matter since the only thing Garnett’s read in the past seven days is his bank statement which is filled with zero’s due to checks not so surprisingly signed by another athlete: Kevin McHale. UNBELIEVABLE!
David Stern has made it known that wants to create a positive image for the NBA in the eyes of the public. That’s why Marcus Camby needed to cash in his swear jar to buy a suit. (Apparently he wears Sean John velour suits to funerals.) But you need to call a spade a spade, even if that spade is a ghettoed out tattooed up, headband/shooting sleeve/leg tights/Jewelry wearing illiterate malcontent.
But what I just didn’t understand is what exactly makes these superiorly-built athletic machines with bird-brains so intriguing to the readers of America.
Then I read an article at the paper I work for, the Staten Island Advance, that stated that the Parks Department misspelled the word ‘Yield’ on their signs. The damn government-run Parks Department sign, with its emblem so proudly painted on the sign. If the government can’t read then what could be said about its people?
But who am I to judge this on your behalf. Maybe you’d like to hear Jose’s tale of “Me Suked so MarK Mgwire put injecshuns in my but” which after the editor was through with it looked like: “I constantly pondered my options. Stay with my current skill set and fade into obsurity, or take these injections and feed my family for ten more years. Did I really have a choice? No. McGwire thought the same.” (Note: Not excerpted from the book… I never read it)
Do you really care how or why Pete Rose lied…62 years after the fact he gambled? Do you care why Jose Canseco decided to stick steroid-filled syringes up his finely-tuned ass? Do you care that John Amaechi is a former gay athlete? Of course you do. But if you asked me, I’d rather read it on ESPN than from someone who achieved their degree from the school of hard knocks.
Don’t misconstrue this as a diss to all athletes. It’s fine for me, I’m a jock. I’ve been happy to reap the benefits of a boosted grade and excused absenses from the classes I find so boring. I’m happy to reap the benefits of their (editors’) hard work and I’ll be glad to push over the Mike Lupicas of the world along the way. (I’ll shoot at your lip)
All I’m saying is that we are making these fourth-grade level writers into New York Times bestsellers… and we wonder why that ‘Yield’ sign is misspelled.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
In God We Cheer: NBA Booked by Vince McMahon Part II
Okay, so the playoffs have started. And just like I warned you, the suckfest has begun. Last second buzzer beaters and stellar "OMG, how the hell did that go in?" lucksack shots are nowhere to be found. Through the first ten games, the most exciting thing we've seen was Mark Cuban's angry sidelines seizure as the Mavs failed to rotate on D. Shaq has spent more energy in his post-game bitch-about-the-ref-athons then in the paint. And Kobe... oh Kobe... has apparently decided that that you only need to make shots in the first half.
So, all of this debauchery has lead to one-sided victories and me catching on some much needed sleep.
But rather than bitch... lets instead fade from our boring reality into better times...
Times where all game are slobberknockers and the storylines have even Martin Scorcese feeling inadequate.
Times where the NBA Playoffs are under the brilliant influence of... Vincent. Kennedy. McMahon.
Round 1 went like this:
Pistons over Magic in 5.
Bulls over Nets in 6.
Raptors over Wizards in 4 (LOL PWND).
Cavs over Heat in 7.
Dallas over Clippers in 4 (LOL, oops).
Lakeshow over Suns in 7.
Spurs over Nuggets in 5.
Rockets over Jazz in 6.
So bahh gawd, the pyro has already gone off... lets get down to business.
ROUND 2 - EAST
Chicago Bulls vs Toronto Raptors
Well, nobody would ever confuse these two franchises. One has arguably launched some of the greatest teams of all time (The 95 Bulls had an astounding record of 242 Wins and -160 Losses). The other...well, they've been known to suck it up a notch, despite having some big talent wear their funny Canadian uniforms. But that's the past... and here at ChewThemOut, we don't live in the past. We live in the imaginary future, baby. So forget VC and Tmac... Bosh is now the man in town.
The crowds are pumped and we're ready to have the opening tip off when all of a sudden... a familiar tune begins to echo throughout the arena...
#No chance...#
#No chance in hell, (you’ve got)#
#No chance…#
#No chance in hell, (you’ve got)#
#No chance…#
#No chance in hell, (you’ve got)#
#No chance…#
#No chance in hell!#
The crowd... well, they have no idea what the hell is going on. But I'm pretty sure they won't have to wait long, as Vince McMahon, flashy suit and cocky walk in tact, waddles to center court and grabs a mic. He says something to Wallace and Nesterovic and both teams make their way back to their benches.
VINCE McMAHON: "TOOOOOOOOOOOROOOOOONTOOOOOOOO!!!"
[Massive cheers from the crowd.]
VINCE McMAHON: "You know... I was having a bad week. But now that I'm here... well, I'm in a pretty good mood."
[More cheers.]
VINCE McMAHON: "Because I've realized... that no matter how bad things seem... not only am I billionaire... at least when it's all said and done, I don't live in a shithole of a city like each and every one of you!"
[BAHH GAWD, the heel turn! Boos from the crowd]
VINCE McMAHON: "SHUUUUUUUUUUUUUT UP! Even though I'd love to spend hours talking about how much this city... and country reaks of mediocrity... I have more important matters to address. Things have gotten stale around here... and I'm not gonna take it, damnit. It's time to shake things up a bit!"
"How many of you are excited to see the Bulls and Raptors go at it?"
[Crowd cheers!]
"Well... you're gonna get it!"
[Cheers!]
VINCE McMAHON: "Maybe. Someday. BUT NOT TONIGHT!"
[BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!]
VINCE McMAHON: "You see... the board had a meeting. And decided that we're gonna do a little re-seeding... We're gonna shake these brackets up. So Bulls... you will not be in competition tonight. In fact..."
[Vince takes a glance at the Rolex on his wrist]
VINCE McMAHON: "You might want to get your asses to the airport, because you have a flight to catch. You're gonna be in action tomorrow night... against the Detroit Pistons! Security, get their asses out of here!"
[Security ushers an angry Bulls team out of the arena. The crowd boos. Raptors coach Sam Mitchell gathers up his players and they begin to head to the back as well...]
VINCE McMAHON: "Wait a god damn minute. Where the hell do you think you're going?"
[They stop and look back at Vince.]
VINCE McMAHON: "Your night isn't over. Hardly. Tonight... on this very court... you're gonna go to battle against...
THE CLEVELAND CAVALIERS!
SO GET YOUR ASSES OUT HERE!
[The Cavs, lead by LeBron come out to boos from the crowd. It takes a few seconds to settle down, but eventually the teams both reach center court and we have our tipoff.]
GAME 1 - The Raptors, having prepared for the Bulls, just don't have an answer for the Cavaliers and their monster star, King James. Bosh, the gamer he is, puts up a respectable 28 and 14, but LeBron just takes Bargnani to school, exploding for 44 pts. Cavs win easy 112-98.
GAME 2 - Different day, same story. LeBron makes the 7 foot #1 draft pick look like he belongs in the D-league, repeatedly breaking his oversized ankles. Hughes and Ilgauskas add to the onslaught. Bosh is repeatedly hacked by Gooden and Varejao, whose only purpose in this series is the 6 fouls he has next to his name. Player of the Game- Lebron James with an impressive 46/12/8. Cavs win 117-104.
GAME 3 - We're now in Cleveland for the next two games. But the setting is all that changed here. LeBron starts out hotter than the burning sensation of gonorrhea, hitting his first 4 shots from the field. Raptors are down 8 and call timeout. Bosh unloads on his teammates, screaming at the top of his lungs. Teams take the floor again and as LeBron drives through the lane, he is LEVELED by Bosh and hits the ground with a sickening thud. He screams in agony. Thousands of fans collectively hold their breath, allowing us to hear Bron Bron shoot out words you just don't want your children to hear. With Bron out, Raptors come out firing. Bargnani is $$$ from deep and puts up a respectable 24 to go with Bosh's 30 as the Raptors steal one 94-84.
GAME 4 - LeBron is back in the lineup, but only in name. Clearly playing on an injured ankle, LeBron is hesitant to take it to the rack, relying instead on his outside jumper, which is nonexistant. Hughes and Z try to carry the load... but come on, we've all seen them play. Not exactly Stockton and Malone here. Bosh explodes. Anthony Parker plays 2nd fiddle this time. Raptors win 97-91.
GAME 5 - We're back in Toronto and the LeBron continues to struggle. Bosh continues to take advantage of his injury, just stretching the court, and kicking it out to Parker and Bargnani for 3. Hughes actually puts together a great game, going for 35, single handedly keeping his team in the game. LeBron shows warrior spirit by trying to take it to the rack, but his ankle has other plans and he just cant get it done. Raptors up two, Cavs forced to foul, Calderon hits all his free throws down the stretch and Raptors pull it out 92-87.
GAME 6 - Cavs don't want to lose the series in front of their hometown crowd so they man up and start playing some D. This is enough to keep them in the game. Then in the 4th quarter... their hobbled star sucks it up... and his drives... actually start leading to dunks and layups, before he limps back on D. The man is clearly hurt... but like Popeye with spinach in his mouth, LeBron transforms into a new person whenever the ball touches his fingers. Bosh refuses to back down... and it's on. The two stars exchange buckets, but the relentlessness of James is just too much for the Big Boshman to handle, and Cavs take this one to game 7 by a victory.
GAME 7 - This one is a five star classic here in Toronto. These playas came to play tonight, boyee. Their ferocity is unmatched. Their defense is impregnable. Hard fouls. Crisp passing. Clutch shots. 42 lead changes in this one. All the roleplayers knew their roles and shut their mouths. But, since I'm a sucker for NBA stars... and lets face it, I'm writing this sumbitch, it comes down to two men:
Chris Bosh.
And LeBron James.
88-88. 88 seconds left. I've just eaten my 88th kernel of popcorn. I've washed it down with my 88th swig of Mountain Dew, effectively killing 88 sperm.
Raptors step up their D. Parker and Bosh deny James from receiving the pass. Hughes is forced to put up a 3, which is no good... but Anderson Varajeo uses his massive afro to tip the rebound to James, who puts it back with a pretty floater.
54 seconds to go. Calderon gets the ball to Bosh, who is defended by the NBA's resident Sideshow Bob, who shadows his every move. Bosh however, must have been practicing with Bargnani and Nesterovic, because he pulls off the move that single handedly allows unathletic white guys to make it to the NBA, the PUMP FAKE OF DEATH! Varajeo gets out of position and the jumper is true from 8.
The crowd is going nuts. 90-90. 36 seconds left. Hughes dribbles up court and gets it to LeBron. Raptors quickly go to the double team again... Bron keeps his head up and fires a bullet pass to Ilgauskas for the dunk --- DENIED by Nesterovic!
The two massive white men end up doing the Russian Waltz while fighting over the loose ball. Eventually, they stop and stare into each other's eyes. BAHH gawd, a Brokeback moment in the NBA! Lenny and Lodi. Billy and Chuck. John Amaechi and some chinese food deliveryman in spandex biker shorts. And now... Z AND RASHO? Just as Tim Hardaway's about to throw his totally nongay Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 1 DVDs through his TV... Rasho goes in for the kiss, but Z steps back...
"LOL TRICKED YOU!"
There's nothing more furious then a 7 foot Russian scorned and Rasho and Z both dive for the ball, but it pops up... and conveniently ends up in the hands of Lebron James!
WTF, check him for magnets!
James jumper is good from 16.
14 seconds left. Raptors inbound. Cavs set up. Calderon speedygonzalez's his ass across halfcourt, feeds the ball to Bargnani, causing Varajeo to step out to defend the 3. Bargnani swing pass goes to Bosh... and here we go.
Chris Bosh in the triple threat position... defended by King James. Thousands of flashbulbs go off.
Bosh makes his move.
The clock ticks down.
Bosh gets into the point, turns his back to the hoop. He pivots...
It could be... it is...
PUMP FAKE OF DEATH again!
LeBron catapults into the air like a retard after an ice cream truck.. Bosh jumps into him... Immediate whistle!
"FOUL #23 CLEVELAND. Shooting two!"
THE CROWD ROARS!
Bosh goes to the line. All the cheering is gone. The hometown crowd knows how important these next two free throws are. He makes 'em, the season continues. He misses them, and it's to the offseason cave, Boshman.
Bosh bends his knees and goes into his release.
SWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!
Crowd roars. Ref checks the ball back to him. Silence again. Bosh takes a long stare at the rim. He bends his knees...
...he starts his release...
*EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR*
[The sound of an airhorn cuts through the arena.]
AIRBALL!!!!!!
CAVS WIN! CAVS WIN!
The announcers flip out! "Some prick just blew an airhorn! That bastard! He just cost the Raptors their season! Who the hell did that? Camera, find him!"
[But they dont have to look very long... The cameras pan directly to a tall figure standing in the aisle of Section 14. The man has on a backwards cap and a LeBron James jersey.
It may look like a fan, but this is no fan.
The camera zooms in on his face and shows it on the big screen.
A face... all too familiar to these Toronto Fans.]
"VINCE CARTER!!! VINCE CARTER!!! THAT SON OF A BITCH VINCE CARTER JUST SCREWED THE RAPTORS!"
[The crowd notices him and begins to riot. The camera pans in even closer to his face... and before he makes his way out of the exit, fearing for his life, he mutters:
"NOW YOU GOTZ SOMETHING TO HATE!"]
ROUND 2 - EAST
Detroit Pistons vs Chicago Bulls
This one should be good. On one hand, you have the Detroit Pistons, led by the NBA's best backcourt, and the loveable, perennial First Team All-Asshole Forward Rasheed Wallace. On the other... you have the upstart bulls, led by Jeffrey from the Fresh Prince and the former Pistons defensive standout Big Ben Roethliswallace.
Game 1 - Death, heights, and public speaking. Three of the most common fears people have. However, if you polled the players on these two teams, I'm pretty sure "taking it to the rim" would be towards the top of that list. Jesus, this one is Jumperstock 2007. Billups and Hamilton use their savvy to gain the upperhand over Hinrich and Gordon. Luol Deng shows flashes, but is mostly contained by defensive stopper/bantamweight boxing champion Tayshaun Prince. With his stellar footwork, Tayshaun Prince gains the unanimous decision here, hitting the Bulls title hopes with a stinging jab as Pistons win the first game 88-79.
Game 2 - The skyrocketing prices of NBA jerseys has its impact felt in this one. As the camera pans through the electric Palace crowd, we notice that about 25% of the fans sporting jerseys still haven't upgraded from the #3 worn by Ben Wallace. Contrary to the forecast of former heavyweight champion/world-renown investment guru Mike Tyson, the Nazr Muhammed jersey just didnt fly off the shelves. Wallace fed off this support (and accompanying royalty checks) in this one as the World's Most Feared Man With Girl Hands scorches his former team for 20 pts and 14 rebounds. Rasheed Wallace looked sharp in this one early, but was T'd up twice and eventually ejected: The first for giving Kirk Hinrich a wedgie, the second for Ric Flair strutting around the arena after draining a three. In any case, Chicago ties this one up with a 96-91 victory.
Game 3 - We head out to Chicago, where the crowd is fired up by the inspiring motivational speech of former pop rapper/current presidential candidate (and Chicago native), Kanye West. The speech seems to have awaken the Bulls guards. Hinrich shows the agility a farmboy develops after years of chasing chickens as he repeatedly gets to the lane here. Pistons young forward Amir Johnson keeps his team in the game with some great defense and flashy dunks off the bench. It's not enough however, and Bulls squeak out the W, 87-82.
Game 4 - GOD DENG IT! Luol Deng is absolutely unstoppable in this one, taking the World's Palest Black Man Tayshaun Prince to school for 41 points. Carlos Delfino starts at point guard for the Pistons in this one, as Chauncey Billups had an appointment booked to look at small countries he can buy with all the money he's gonna get this offseason. Bulls roll 93-77. Bahh gawd, Detroit is up against the ropes!
Game 5 - Richard Hamilton recently opened up a Mexican restaurant in Detroit. And if this game was any indication, he's been sampling the menu a bit too much. The All Star Guard With The Nose That Never Heals certainly earns his nickname of "rip" in this one. Hammer dominates the Bulls swingman with his goya bean- propelled first step and routinely unleashes jalapeno gusts to clear space for his patented 18 foot jumper. Rip ends up with 33. Newly crowned Czar Billups returns to action and adds 19 as the Pistons win this one 104-99.
Game 6 - With Hamilton's flatulence in the rear-view mirror, the crafty Pistons needed to find a new gimmick to help them keep up with the athletically superior Bulls. So this time, they turn to their bench, specificly veteran forward/underground comedian Antonio McDyess...Clay. Reciting his hilarious nursery rhymes such as "Little Red Riding Hood Choked On Dick" and "Simon Says Your Mother's A Whore", McDyess...Clay had the Bulls team rolling in laughter. Unfortunately for them, referee Joe Crawford took offense to this and ended up ejecting the entire team (except Tyrus Thomas, cuz laughing ain't gangsta), and the Pistons pull out the forfeit victory. Series tied at 3 as we head back to the Palace.
Game 7 - This is it, baby. Game 7. One team will feel the triumph of victory, as they move one step closer to their goal of winning a world championship. The other... will return to their depressing lives as 20-something year old multi-millionaires who PLAY A FUCKING GAME FOR A LIVING!
Pistons and Bulls are two of the best defensive teams in the NBA, and they showed it in this one. What happens when you take two-parts Chris Webber's around-the-basket hustle, one-part offensive ineptitude of Tyrus Thomas, Rip Hamilton's hummingbird-like omg-if-i-stop-moving-I'm gonna-die attitude, and a pinch of Ben Gordon's knack for turning routine 16-foot jumpers into ridiculous fadeaway circus shots?
What you have... is an 8-6 Pistons lead at the half.
It's a different story in the second half, as we get to experience what will go down as one of the greatest battles in history. We've had the Spartans vs the Persians... Ali vs Frazier... Sonic the Hedgehog vs Dr. Robotnik... and now, Wallace vs Wallace.
The best friends and former partners in crime went to war in this one: The Bull vs The Piston. The Corn Rows vs The Bald Spot/Grey Patch/Permanent Piece of Gum -- What the hell IS that thing?. Ben vs. Rasheed.
Known as one of the best defenders in the league, Wallace was able to chase Wallace around the court whenever Wallace touched the ball, forcing Wallace to drop back for 3-balls. Unfortunately for Wallace, Wallace was able to develop the hot hand and hit these threes. Eventually, Wallace adjusted to Wallace's deadly perimeter game and began to come rumbling after Wallace like a defensive end after Seahawks backup quarterback Seneca Wallace. So, the Wallaces banged in the paint as free agent Gerald Wallace watched from the crowd while listening to the late great Christopher Wallace (Biggie for all you white folk) on his iPod.
With 5 fouls a piece from beating the crap out of each other, the teams big men need to defer to their guards down the stretch and they go off.
Billups for 3. True. Gordon responds. Hamilton from 19. Matched by Hinrich.
Two minutes left to go... It's crunch time.
Detroit leans heavily on Mr. Big Shot. And he delivers.
But Chicago doesn't fade away. Their offense comes from that wacky Argentinian Andres Nocioni... who develops a touch from downtown that hasn't been seen since Hersey Hawkins in NBA Live 95. Dagger after dagger after dagger.
With the game tied at 46, Detroit adjusts by putting their stopper, Tayshaun Prince with his Dhalsimlike arms in tact, on Nocioni. This forces the ball out to Ben Gordon. Gordon drives...
DENIED BY WEBBER! ... who impressively managed to go from the NBA's Most Grossly Overpaid Player to the NBA's Most Underpaid player in a span of about a month.
The Webber rejection leads to a Detroit fast break. Carlos Delfino, replacing Richard Hamilton who needed to clear the fog off his facemask, goes up for a layup...
... BUT IS DECAPITATED BY THE BONY WRISTS OF LUOL DENG!
...Literally. Fatality timeout is called by the refs, and after a brief moment of silence (sponsored by GoDaddy.com), Hamilton checks back into the game and shoots the 2 free throws in memory of his fallen homie.
Pistons lead 48-46. 70 seconds of the clock. Huge possession. The Pistons man up on defense. Ben Gordon does that thing where he dribbles a whole lot but doesn't really go anywhere. The shot clock winds down. He drives...
Webber fills the lane, in position to take the charge...
...But dishes behind him at the last second to...
... TYRUS THOMAS?!?!
The rookie forward quickly makes the sign of the cross before unleashing a prayer...
...a knuckleball that ends up making its way towards the hoop, luckily hitting the rim...
...bouncing upward, hitting off the top of the hoop...
...rolling around along the top of the hoop...
...and somehow, some way...
... going through the net!
49-48 Bulls. Tyrus Thomas does a celebratory cartwheel and asks for a microphone... forgetting that he's supposed to be covering Rasheed Wallace on defense. Prince throws the full court heave to Rasheed and he slams it home.
50-49 Pistons. 44 seconds left. Hinrich quickly dribbles up the court. He feeds the ball to Deng, who hits a cutting Ben Wallace...
Who is HACKED by Chris Webber, preventing a dunk.
The Palace crowd goes crazy, trying to make life a living hell for their former All-Star center turned divisional rival: Benedictarnold Wallace. They bang their thundersticks. They yell and scream. They hold up signs with difficult 4th grade level algebra equations. Everything in their power to prevent their tinyhanded nemesis from making these shots.
Wallace at the line... and he shoots his first free throw two-handed underhand granny style.
It's good! The crowd boos.
He takes his second shot... and it too is good! The man so incredibly loved by the Pistons fans during their title run... has just put two nails in the coffin of their 2007 title hopes... in the form of two homosexual looking free throws.
Bulls lead 51-50. 36 seconds on the clock. It's all going to come down to this possession.
Billups dribbles up the court. He passes to Rasheed who is guarded by Thomas. Rasheed finds Hamilton coming off a Webber screen... Hamilton stops... He snaps... he crackles.. he pops...
HE GETS STUFFED BY BEN WALLACE!
An all out scramble for the ball breaks out, and is eventually won by the outstretched arms of Dhalsim Prince. Pistons reset. Twelve seconds left on the shot clock.
Billups with the ball. Gordon defends. Chauncey looks up. Nobody's open. He stutter-steps. Stops. Lets loose a three. Can Mr. Big Shot do it again?
The ball flies toward the rim in perfect rotation...
...Every single pair of eyes in the arena is locked on to the hoop...
... Well, except for that guy sitting behind the busty blonde in the Pistons t-shirt two sizes too small, but nonetheless...
... it hits the rim...
... AND BOUNCES OUT TO BE SNAGGED BY BEN WALLACE! NO GOOD! NO GOOD!
...What the? What the hell is going on?
[Cue the sound of electrical failure.]
As soon as Wallace lands after bottling up the board, the PALACE lights go out!
The crowd oohs and ahhs... what the hell is happening here?
[But mere seconds later, they are to find out. The lights come back on. And as they do, the thousands in attendance and millions watching at home discover a shocking situation.
That basketball which was just, a split second ago, secured away in the monster arms of Ben Wallace?
It's not there.
In fact, Ben Wallace isn't holding a damn thing as he is LAID OUT in the paint... next to the unconscious body of his teammate Tyrus Thomas.]
WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?
[In addition to the lifeless bodies, there are two other men in the paint, both holding something of note.
The first man... standing no more than two feet from the hoop... is Rasheed Wallace, holding the leather basketball previously in Ben's possession. Rasheed has a startled look on his face, as he looks towards the second man...
A man whose infamous actions here at the Palace will NEVER be forgotten...
A man who is a self-admitted former special ed student...
A man who aspires to be a hip hop mogul...
A man who is craziest thing to ever come out of St John's University...
And finally... a man who is a well-known enemy of Ben Wallace.]
RON ARTEST!!! BAHH GAWD!!! IT'S RON ARTEST!!!
[Indeed it is. And the troubled Sacramento Kings guard/forward greets Rasheed with a nod and a smile. In his hands? A cold, steel folding chair.]
DID HE JUST? DID RON ARTEST DO THIS?!?
[Meanwhile, Rasheed looks down at his former teammate's body and doesn't know what to do... The clock ticks down:
6!
CROWD: "SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!"
5!
CROWD: "SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!"
[Rasheed's glance continues to turn from his fallen friend... to Artest... to the hoop. He shakes his head in disgust.]
4!
CROWD: "SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!"
3!
CROWD: "SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!
[And just like that... Rasheed's look of disgust transforms... into a sly smirk. He nods at Artest, spits on Big Ben's body... takes one dribble, rises...
And stuffs it home!]
2!
1!
*BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT*
PISTONS WIN! PISTONS WIN! BAHH GAWD, THE PISTONS WIN THANKS TO RON ARTEST!
[Rasheed and Artest embrace in a hug. The crowd... who were no strangers in voicing their hate of this man... are shouting in unison:]
"RON!"
"RON!"
"RON!"
"RON!"
"RON!"
"RON!"
"RON!"
MAHH GAWD, THIS IS PANDEMONIUM! WE'RE OUT OF TIME! MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON OUR NBA SOULS!
[Credits roll.]
-----------------------------------
Check back soon for the Western Conference semi-finals.
So, all of this debauchery has lead to one-sided victories and me catching on some much needed sleep.
But rather than bitch... lets instead fade from our boring reality into better times...
Times where all game are slobberknockers and the storylines have even Martin Scorcese feeling inadequate.
Times where the NBA Playoffs are under the brilliant influence of... Vincent. Kennedy. McMahon.
Round 1 went like this:
Pistons over Magic in 5.
Bulls over Nets in 6.
Raptors over Wizards in 4 (LOL PWND).
Cavs over Heat in 7.
Dallas over Clippers in 4 (LOL, oops).
Lakeshow over Suns in 7.
Spurs over Nuggets in 5.
Rockets over Jazz in 6.
So bahh gawd, the pyro has already gone off... lets get down to business.
ROUND 2 - EAST
Chicago Bulls vs Toronto Raptors
Well, nobody would ever confuse these two franchises. One has arguably launched some of the greatest teams of all time (The 95 Bulls had an astounding record of 242 Wins and -160 Losses). The other...well, they've been known to suck it up a notch, despite having some big talent wear their funny Canadian uniforms. But that's the past... and here at ChewThemOut, we don't live in the past. We live in the imaginary future, baby. So forget VC and Tmac... Bosh is now the man in town.
The crowds are pumped and we're ready to have the opening tip off when all of a sudden... a familiar tune begins to echo throughout the arena...
#No chance...#
#No chance in hell, (you’ve got)#
#No chance…#
#No chance in hell, (you’ve got)#
#No chance…#
#No chance in hell, (you’ve got)#
#No chance…#
#No chance in hell!#
The crowd... well, they have no idea what the hell is going on. But I'm pretty sure they won't have to wait long, as Vince McMahon, flashy suit and cocky walk in tact, waddles to center court and grabs a mic. He says something to Wallace and Nesterovic and both teams make their way back to their benches.
VINCE McMAHON: "TOOOOOOOOOOOROOOOOONTOOOOOOOO!!!"
[Massive cheers from the crowd.]
VINCE McMAHON: "You know... I was having a bad week. But now that I'm here... well, I'm in a pretty good mood."
[More cheers.]
VINCE McMAHON: "Because I've realized... that no matter how bad things seem... not only am I billionaire... at least when it's all said and done, I don't live in a shithole of a city like each and every one of you!"
[BAHH GAWD, the heel turn! Boos from the crowd]
VINCE McMAHON: "SHUUUUUUUUUUUUUT UP! Even though I'd love to spend hours talking about how much this city... and country reaks of mediocrity... I have more important matters to address. Things have gotten stale around here... and I'm not gonna take it, damnit. It's time to shake things up a bit!"
"How many of you are excited to see the Bulls and Raptors go at it?"
[Crowd cheers!]
"Well... you're gonna get it!"
[Cheers!]
VINCE McMAHON: "Maybe. Someday. BUT NOT TONIGHT!"
[BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!]
VINCE McMAHON: "You see... the board had a meeting. And decided that we're gonna do a little re-seeding... We're gonna shake these brackets up. So Bulls... you will not be in competition tonight. In fact..."
[Vince takes a glance at the Rolex on his wrist]
VINCE McMAHON: "You might want to get your asses to the airport, because you have a flight to catch. You're gonna be in action tomorrow night... against the Detroit Pistons! Security, get their asses out of here!"
[Security ushers an angry Bulls team out of the arena. The crowd boos. Raptors coach Sam Mitchell gathers up his players and they begin to head to the back as well...]
VINCE McMAHON: "Wait a god damn minute. Where the hell do you think you're going?"
[They stop and look back at Vince.]
VINCE McMAHON: "Your night isn't over. Hardly. Tonight... on this very court... you're gonna go to battle against...
THE CLEVELAND CAVALIERS!
SO GET YOUR ASSES OUT HERE!
[The Cavs, lead by LeBron come out to boos from the crowd. It takes a few seconds to settle down, but eventually the teams both reach center court and we have our tipoff.]
GAME 1 - The Raptors, having prepared for the Bulls, just don't have an answer for the Cavaliers and their monster star, King James. Bosh, the gamer he is, puts up a respectable 28 and 14, but LeBron just takes Bargnani to school, exploding for 44 pts. Cavs win easy 112-98.
GAME 2 - Different day, same story. LeBron makes the 7 foot #1 draft pick look like he belongs in the D-league, repeatedly breaking his oversized ankles. Hughes and Ilgauskas add to the onslaught. Bosh is repeatedly hacked by Gooden and Varejao, whose only purpose in this series is the 6 fouls he has next to his name. Player of the Game- Lebron James with an impressive 46/12/8. Cavs win 117-104.
GAME 3 - We're now in Cleveland for the next two games. But the setting is all that changed here. LeBron starts out hotter than the burning sensation of gonorrhea, hitting his first 4 shots from the field. Raptors are down 8 and call timeout. Bosh unloads on his teammates, screaming at the top of his lungs. Teams take the floor again and as LeBron drives through the lane, he is LEVELED by Bosh and hits the ground with a sickening thud. He screams in agony. Thousands of fans collectively hold their breath, allowing us to hear Bron Bron shoot out words you just don't want your children to hear. With Bron out, Raptors come out firing. Bargnani is $$$ from deep and puts up a respectable 24 to go with Bosh's 30 as the Raptors steal one 94-84.
GAME 4 - LeBron is back in the lineup, but only in name. Clearly playing on an injured ankle, LeBron is hesitant to take it to the rack, relying instead on his outside jumper, which is nonexistant. Hughes and Z try to carry the load... but come on, we've all seen them play. Not exactly Stockton and Malone here. Bosh explodes. Anthony Parker plays 2nd fiddle this time. Raptors win 97-91.
GAME 5 - We're back in Toronto and the LeBron continues to struggle. Bosh continues to take advantage of his injury, just stretching the court, and kicking it out to Parker and Bargnani for 3. Hughes actually puts together a great game, going for 35, single handedly keeping his team in the game. LeBron shows warrior spirit by trying to take it to the rack, but his ankle has other plans and he just cant get it done. Raptors up two, Cavs forced to foul, Calderon hits all his free throws down the stretch and Raptors pull it out 92-87.
GAME 6 - Cavs don't want to lose the series in front of their hometown crowd so they man up and start playing some D. This is enough to keep them in the game. Then in the 4th quarter... their hobbled star sucks it up... and his drives... actually start leading to dunks and layups, before he limps back on D. The man is clearly hurt... but like Popeye with spinach in his mouth, LeBron transforms into a new person whenever the ball touches his fingers. Bosh refuses to back down... and it's on. The two stars exchange buckets, but the relentlessness of James is just too much for the Big Boshman to handle, and Cavs take this one to game 7 by a victory.
GAME 7 - This one is a five star classic here in Toronto. These playas came to play tonight, boyee. Their ferocity is unmatched. Their defense is impregnable. Hard fouls. Crisp passing. Clutch shots. 42 lead changes in this one. All the roleplayers knew their roles and shut their mouths. But, since I'm a sucker for NBA stars... and lets face it, I'm writing this sumbitch, it comes down to two men:
Chris Bosh.
And LeBron James.
88-88. 88 seconds left. I've just eaten my 88th kernel of popcorn. I've washed it down with my 88th swig of Mountain Dew, effectively killing 88 sperm.
Raptors step up their D. Parker and Bosh deny James from receiving the pass. Hughes is forced to put up a 3, which is no good... but Anderson Varajeo uses his massive afro to tip the rebound to James, who puts it back with a pretty floater.
54 seconds to go. Calderon gets the ball to Bosh, who is defended by the NBA's resident Sideshow Bob, who shadows his every move. Bosh however, must have been practicing with Bargnani and Nesterovic, because he pulls off the move that single handedly allows unathletic white guys to make it to the NBA, the PUMP FAKE OF DEATH! Varajeo gets out of position and the jumper is true from 8.
The crowd is going nuts. 90-90. 36 seconds left. Hughes dribbles up court and gets it to LeBron. Raptors quickly go to the double team again... Bron keeps his head up and fires a bullet pass to Ilgauskas for the dunk --- DENIED by Nesterovic!
The two massive white men end up doing the Russian Waltz while fighting over the loose ball. Eventually, they stop and stare into each other's eyes. BAHH gawd, a Brokeback moment in the NBA! Lenny and Lodi. Billy and Chuck. John Amaechi and some chinese food deliveryman in spandex biker shorts. And now... Z AND RASHO? Just as Tim Hardaway's about to throw his totally nongay Buffy the Vampire Slayer Season 1 DVDs through his TV... Rasho goes in for the kiss, but Z steps back...
"LOL TRICKED YOU!"
There's nothing more furious then a 7 foot Russian scorned and Rasho and Z both dive for the ball, but it pops up... and conveniently ends up in the hands of Lebron James!
WTF, check him for magnets!
James jumper is good from 16.
14 seconds left. Raptors inbound. Cavs set up. Calderon speedygonzalez's his ass across halfcourt, feeds the ball to Bargnani, causing Varajeo to step out to defend the 3. Bargnani swing pass goes to Bosh... and here we go.
Chris Bosh in the triple threat position... defended by King James. Thousands of flashbulbs go off.
Bosh makes his move.
The clock ticks down.
Bosh gets into the point, turns his back to the hoop. He pivots...
It could be... it is...
PUMP FAKE OF DEATH again!
LeBron catapults into the air like a retard after an ice cream truck.. Bosh jumps into him... Immediate whistle!
"FOUL #23 CLEVELAND. Shooting two!"
THE CROWD ROARS!
Bosh goes to the line. All the cheering is gone. The hometown crowd knows how important these next two free throws are. He makes 'em, the season continues. He misses them, and it's to the offseason cave, Boshman.
Bosh bends his knees and goes into his release.
SWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!
Crowd roars. Ref checks the ball back to him. Silence again. Bosh takes a long stare at the rim. He bends his knees...
...he starts his release...
*EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR*
[The sound of an airhorn cuts through the arena.]
AIRBALL!!!!!!
CAVS WIN! CAVS WIN!
The announcers flip out! "Some prick just blew an airhorn! That bastard! He just cost the Raptors their season! Who the hell did that? Camera, find him!"
[But they dont have to look very long... The cameras pan directly to a tall figure standing in the aisle of Section 14. The man has on a backwards cap and a LeBron James jersey.
It may look like a fan, but this is no fan.
The camera zooms in on his face and shows it on the big screen.
A face... all too familiar to these Toronto Fans.]
"VINCE CARTER!!! VINCE CARTER!!! THAT SON OF A BITCH VINCE CARTER JUST SCREWED THE RAPTORS!"
[The crowd notices him and begins to riot. The camera pans in even closer to his face... and before he makes his way out of the exit, fearing for his life, he mutters:
"NOW YOU GOTZ SOMETHING TO HATE!"]
ROUND 2 - EAST
Detroit Pistons vs Chicago Bulls
This one should be good. On one hand, you have the Detroit Pistons, led by the NBA's best backcourt, and the loveable, perennial First Team All-Asshole Forward Rasheed Wallace. On the other... you have the upstart bulls, led by Jeffrey from the Fresh Prince and the former Pistons defensive standout Big Ben Roethliswallace.
Game 1 - Death, heights, and public speaking. Three of the most common fears people have. However, if you polled the players on these two teams, I'm pretty sure "taking it to the rim" would be towards the top of that list. Jesus, this one is Jumperstock 2007. Billups and Hamilton use their savvy to gain the upperhand over Hinrich and Gordon. Luol Deng shows flashes, but is mostly contained by defensive stopper/bantamweight boxing champion Tayshaun Prince. With his stellar footwork, Tayshaun Prince gains the unanimous decision here, hitting the Bulls title hopes with a stinging jab as Pistons win the first game 88-79.
Game 2 - The skyrocketing prices of NBA jerseys has its impact felt in this one. As the camera pans through the electric Palace crowd, we notice that about 25% of the fans sporting jerseys still haven't upgraded from the #3 worn by Ben Wallace. Contrary to the forecast of former heavyweight champion/world-renown investment guru Mike Tyson, the Nazr Muhammed jersey just didnt fly off the shelves. Wallace fed off this support (and accompanying royalty checks) in this one as the World's Most Feared Man With Girl Hands scorches his former team for 20 pts and 14 rebounds. Rasheed Wallace looked sharp in this one early, but was T'd up twice and eventually ejected: The first for giving Kirk Hinrich a wedgie, the second for Ric Flair strutting around the arena after draining a three. In any case, Chicago ties this one up with a 96-91 victory.
Game 3 - We head out to Chicago, where the crowd is fired up by the inspiring motivational speech of former pop rapper/current presidential candidate (and Chicago native), Kanye West. The speech seems to have awaken the Bulls guards. Hinrich shows the agility a farmboy develops after years of chasing chickens as he repeatedly gets to the lane here. Pistons young forward Amir Johnson keeps his team in the game with some great defense and flashy dunks off the bench. It's not enough however, and Bulls squeak out the W, 87-82.
Game 4 - GOD DENG IT! Luol Deng is absolutely unstoppable in this one, taking the World's Palest Black Man Tayshaun Prince to school for 41 points. Carlos Delfino starts at point guard for the Pistons in this one, as Chauncey Billups had an appointment booked to look at small countries he can buy with all the money he's gonna get this offseason. Bulls roll 93-77. Bahh gawd, Detroit is up against the ropes!
Game 5 - Richard Hamilton recently opened up a Mexican restaurant in Detroit. And if this game was any indication, he's been sampling the menu a bit too much. The All Star Guard With The Nose That Never Heals certainly earns his nickname of "rip" in this one. Hammer dominates the Bulls swingman with his goya bean- propelled first step and routinely unleashes jalapeno gusts to clear space for his patented 18 foot jumper. Rip ends up with 33. Newly crowned Czar Billups returns to action and adds 19 as the Pistons win this one 104-99.
Game 6 - With Hamilton's flatulence in the rear-view mirror, the crafty Pistons needed to find a new gimmick to help them keep up with the athletically superior Bulls. So this time, they turn to their bench, specificly veteran forward/underground comedian Antonio McDyess...Clay. Reciting his hilarious nursery rhymes such as "Little Red Riding Hood Choked On Dick" and "Simon Says Your Mother's A Whore", McDyess...Clay had the Bulls team rolling in laughter. Unfortunately for them, referee Joe Crawford took offense to this and ended up ejecting the entire team (except Tyrus Thomas, cuz laughing ain't gangsta), and the Pistons pull out the forfeit victory. Series tied at 3 as we head back to the Palace.
Game 7 - This is it, baby. Game 7. One team will feel the triumph of victory, as they move one step closer to their goal of winning a world championship. The other... will return to their depressing lives as 20-something year old multi-millionaires who PLAY A FUCKING GAME FOR A LIVING!
Pistons and Bulls are two of the best defensive teams in the NBA, and they showed it in this one. What happens when you take two-parts Chris Webber's around-the-basket hustle, one-part offensive ineptitude of Tyrus Thomas, Rip Hamilton's hummingbird-like omg-if-i-stop-moving-I'm gonna-die attitude, and a pinch of Ben Gordon's knack for turning routine 16-foot jumpers into ridiculous fadeaway circus shots?
What you have... is an 8-6 Pistons lead at the half.
It's a different story in the second half, as we get to experience what will go down as one of the greatest battles in history. We've had the Spartans vs the Persians... Ali vs Frazier... Sonic the Hedgehog vs Dr. Robotnik... and now, Wallace vs Wallace.
The best friends and former partners in crime went to war in this one: The Bull vs The Piston. The Corn Rows vs The Bald Spot/Grey Patch/Permanent Piece of Gum -- What the hell IS that thing?. Ben vs. Rasheed.
Known as one of the best defenders in the league, Wallace was able to chase Wallace around the court whenever Wallace touched the ball, forcing Wallace to drop back for 3-balls. Unfortunately for Wallace, Wallace was able to develop the hot hand and hit these threes. Eventually, Wallace adjusted to Wallace's deadly perimeter game and began to come rumbling after Wallace like a defensive end after Seahawks backup quarterback Seneca Wallace. So, the Wallaces banged in the paint as free agent Gerald Wallace watched from the crowd while listening to the late great Christopher Wallace (Biggie for all you white folk) on his iPod.
With 5 fouls a piece from beating the crap out of each other, the teams big men need to defer to their guards down the stretch and they go off.
Billups for 3. True. Gordon responds. Hamilton from 19. Matched by Hinrich.
Two minutes left to go... It's crunch time.
Detroit leans heavily on Mr. Big Shot. And he delivers.
But Chicago doesn't fade away. Their offense comes from that wacky Argentinian Andres Nocioni... who develops a touch from downtown that hasn't been seen since Hersey Hawkins in NBA Live 95. Dagger after dagger after dagger.
With the game tied at 46, Detroit adjusts by putting their stopper, Tayshaun Prince with his Dhalsimlike arms in tact, on Nocioni. This forces the ball out to Ben Gordon. Gordon drives...
DENIED BY WEBBER! ... who impressively managed to go from the NBA's Most Grossly Overpaid Player to the NBA's Most Underpaid player in a span of about a month.
The Webber rejection leads to a Detroit fast break. Carlos Delfino, replacing Richard Hamilton who needed to clear the fog off his facemask, goes up for a layup...
... BUT IS DECAPITATED BY THE BONY WRISTS OF LUOL DENG!
...Literally. Fatality timeout is called by the refs, and after a brief moment of silence (sponsored by GoDaddy.com), Hamilton checks back into the game and shoots the 2 free throws in memory of his fallen homie.
Pistons lead 48-46. 70 seconds of the clock. Huge possession. The Pistons man up on defense. Ben Gordon does that thing where he dribbles a whole lot but doesn't really go anywhere. The shot clock winds down. He drives...
Webber fills the lane, in position to take the charge...
...But dishes behind him at the last second to...
... TYRUS THOMAS?!?!
The rookie forward quickly makes the sign of the cross before unleashing a prayer...
...a knuckleball that ends up making its way towards the hoop, luckily hitting the rim...
...bouncing upward, hitting off the top of the hoop...
...rolling around along the top of the hoop...
...and somehow, some way...
... going through the net!
49-48 Bulls. Tyrus Thomas does a celebratory cartwheel and asks for a microphone... forgetting that he's supposed to be covering Rasheed Wallace on defense. Prince throws the full court heave to Rasheed and he slams it home.
50-49 Pistons. 44 seconds left. Hinrich quickly dribbles up the court. He feeds the ball to Deng, who hits a cutting Ben Wallace...
Who is HACKED by Chris Webber, preventing a dunk.
The Palace crowd goes crazy, trying to make life a living hell for their former All-Star center turned divisional rival: Benedictarnold Wallace. They bang their thundersticks. They yell and scream. They hold up signs with difficult 4th grade level algebra equations. Everything in their power to prevent their tinyhanded nemesis from making these shots.
Wallace at the line... and he shoots his first free throw two-handed underhand granny style.
It's good! The crowd boos.
He takes his second shot... and it too is good! The man so incredibly loved by the Pistons fans during their title run... has just put two nails in the coffin of their 2007 title hopes... in the form of two homosexual looking free throws.
Bulls lead 51-50. 36 seconds on the clock. It's all going to come down to this possession.
Billups dribbles up the court. He passes to Rasheed who is guarded by Thomas. Rasheed finds Hamilton coming off a Webber screen... Hamilton stops... He snaps... he crackles.. he pops...
HE GETS STUFFED BY BEN WALLACE!
An all out scramble for the ball breaks out, and is eventually won by the outstretched arms of Dhalsim Prince. Pistons reset. Twelve seconds left on the shot clock.
Billups with the ball. Gordon defends. Chauncey looks up. Nobody's open. He stutter-steps. Stops. Lets loose a three. Can Mr. Big Shot do it again?
The ball flies toward the rim in perfect rotation...
...Every single pair of eyes in the arena is locked on to the hoop...
... Well, except for that guy sitting behind the busty blonde in the Pistons t-shirt two sizes too small, but nonetheless...
... it hits the rim...
... AND BOUNCES OUT TO BE SNAGGED BY BEN WALLACE! NO GOOD! NO GOOD!
...What the? What the hell is going on?
[Cue the sound of electrical failure.]
As soon as Wallace lands after bottling up the board, the PALACE lights go out!
The crowd oohs and ahhs... what the hell is happening here?
[But mere seconds later, they are to find out. The lights come back on. And as they do, the thousands in attendance and millions watching at home discover a shocking situation.
That basketball which was just, a split second ago, secured away in the monster arms of Ben Wallace?
It's not there.
In fact, Ben Wallace isn't holding a damn thing as he is LAID OUT in the paint... next to the unconscious body of his teammate Tyrus Thomas.]
WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?
[In addition to the lifeless bodies, there are two other men in the paint, both holding something of note.
The first man... standing no more than two feet from the hoop... is Rasheed Wallace, holding the leather basketball previously in Ben's possession. Rasheed has a startled look on his face, as he looks towards the second man...
A man whose infamous actions here at the Palace will NEVER be forgotten...
A man who is a self-admitted former special ed student...
A man who aspires to be a hip hop mogul...
A man who is craziest thing to ever come out of St John's University...
And finally... a man who is a well-known enemy of Ben Wallace.]
RON ARTEST!!! BAHH GAWD!!! IT'S RON ARTEST!!!
[Indeed it is. And the troubled Sacramento Kings guard/forward greets Rasheed with a nod and a smile. In his hands? A cold, steel folding chair.]
DID HE JUST? DID RON ARTEST DO THIS?!?
[Meanwhile, Rasheed looks down at his former teammate's body and doesn't know what to do... The clock ticks down:
6!
CROWD: "SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!"
5!
CROWD: "SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!"
[Rasheed's glance continues to turn from his fallen friend... to Artest... to the hoop. He shakes his head in disgust.]
4!
CROWD: "SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!"
3!
CROWD: "SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!
[And just like that... Rasheed's look of disgust transforms... into a sly smirk. He nods at Artest, spits on Big Ben's body... takes one dribble, rises...
And stuffs it home!]
2!
1!
*BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT*
PISTONS WIN! PISTONS WIN! BAHH GAWD, THE PISTONS WIN THANKS TO RON ARTEST!
[Rasheed and Artest embrace in a hug. The crowd... who were no strangers in voicing their hate of this man... are shouting in unison:]
"RON!"
"RON!"
"RON!"
"RON!"
"RON!"
"RON!"
"RON!"
MAHH GAWD, THIS IS PANDEMONIUM! WE'RE OUT OF TIME! MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON OUR NBA SOULS!
[Credits roll.]
-----------------------------------
Check back soon for the Western Conference semi-finals.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
In God We Cheer: NBA Booked by Vince McMahon Part I
With the NBA playoffs on the horizon, we're in for a few weeks of excitement followed by several months of screaming obscenities. For those of you with teams that still have a shot to hoist the trophy, congratulations, and I hope you die in a greasefire. For the rest of you, I saved you a seat on the bus. And as we slash through our wrists like Stephon Marbury through the open lane, remember kids, it's down the road not across the street.
But, as the bitter fucks that we are, we can take solace in one fact. Nobody's going to be happy this year. Rule 8 of The Big Book of Sports Rules (available from Fuckyourmother Publishing) dictates "No sport is allowed two consecutive years of playoff pwnage, or else Pacman Jones unleashes his wrath on small Cambodian children. Again."
And since last year's NBA playoffs were considered by many as the best in 20 years (Fuck you, Pat Riley), it could only mean one thing...
This year's playoffs are gonna suck!
Not just mild suck either. I'm talking Texas sorority girl after nine games of beer pong suck. I'm talking Shaq at the free throw line suck. I'm talking final season of Family Matters suck (Fuck you, lightskinned Harriet). Hell, I'm even talking TBS Braves announcers suck.
Lets fucking face it, as far as sports go, here in 2007, suck is the new black. We had a snoozer of a World Series between the TIGERS and CARDINALS (LOL @ Carlos Beltran). We had a boring ass Super Bowl where Rex Grossman defeated the rest of his team 29-17. We had the NCAA Final Bore where Florida blew out Ohio State, despite Greg Oden being more active than the Cincinnati Bengals legal team.
So before we tune into these weeks of inevitable one-sided series and star player injuries, lets instead look at what would've happened if the NBA playoffs were controlled by God himself...
The man responsible for Creating the Earth...
The skies...
And Wrestlemania.
Mr. Vincent Kennedy McMahon of the WWE!
If the almighty Vince and his writing team... the team that brought us such classics as Hulk Hogan, Stone Cold Steve Austin, and The Repo Man... were to storm into David Stern's office and launch a mafia style takeover... here's how Round 1 would go:
ROUND ONE: East
DETROIT PISTONS VS ORLANDO MAGIC
A classic matchup in the wrestling world: The crafty veterans vs the physically imposing young monsters. I can almost hear Jim Ross seizuring at the mouth "BAHH GAWD, THAT DWIGHT HOWARD IS A HOSS!" And indeed he is, but it isn't his time yet. The WWE has been known to cram their proven stars down our throats until we literally REFUSE to accept them, and that just isn't the case with Detroit yet. Expect the Magic to shine in a few moments as Howard shows off his freakish athleticism. It'll look like Detroit is down and hurting, but when Orlando goes in for the finish, it turns out Detroit was only playing possum and rolls them up for the pinfall victory.
Results: Detroit Pistons in 5 games.
Wrestling Equivalent: Ric Flair Vs Umaga
CHICAGO BULLS VS NEW JERSEY NETS
Basically a flipflop of the Detroit/Orlando series. Jason Kidd is a fan favorite who has put on a ton of exciting performances over his long NBA Career. Recently, he survived a ferocious feud with Knee Injury. He's also rebounding from one of the feuds of the year, where he lost his Hardcore title to wife Juwanna Kidd. In the end, this is just too much for the crafty veteran to overcome, and he's gonna do the J-O-B to the impressive upstart Chicago Bulls.
Results: Bulls in 6.
Wrestling Equivalent: Randy Orton vs Chris Benoit
TORONTO RAPTORS VS WASHINGTON WIZARDS
This one's a squash. Toronto is a team of young studs on the rise and ready to step into the bigtime. However, because they play in Canada and don't have any blazing personalities on their team, they're overlooked by a lot of fans. Washington Wizards are a poor remake of a team that was once formidable, but is nothing without its two best players. Raptors tear through their weak opposition here and win it with a crippling running powerbomb at 1:30.
Results: Raptors sweep.
Wrestling Equivalent: Bobby Lashley vs Legion of Doom 2.0 (Droz and Overweight Animal)
MIAMI HEAT VS CLEVELAND CAVALIERS
This is the premiere matchup on the road to NBAmania. On one hand, you have the Miami Heat, grizzled veterans with players that can dominated for ages. WHATCHA GONNA DO BROTHER, WHEN SHAQ-A-MANIA RUNS ATCHA WITH THE LARGEST HANDS IN THE WORLD? What you would do... is cower in fear. But not the Cavaliers. Cavaliers face tons of criticism as many feel their star player, LeBron James has not done what needs to be done to lead his team onto the next step. Well, consider that step taken here, as the Cavs stand tight and end go toe-to-toe with the legendary heat. Right by Miami. Returned by Cleveland. Clothesline by Miami. Cleveland returns the favor again! BAHH GAWD, THIS ONE'S A SLOBBERKNOCKER. Wade and Shaq dominate the first two games. LeBron fires back to take games 3 and 4, going for 40 each time. In Game 5 LeBron explodes for 45... but the effort is futile as the constant attack of Shaq and Wade and co wears the Cavs down. It looks as if Cavs have no chance as Lebron is beaten to a pulp, but in Game 6, LeBron's old running buddies Larry Hughes and Zydrunas Ilgauskas finally wake up and will the team to victory. In game 7... with the world watching, the trio turns in a 3 on 5 performance reminiscent of when the Texas Tornado, Ultimate Warrior and Hogan defeated the Million Dollar Team at Survivor Series. Lebron ends up hitting the final shot and finally earns some respect as he steps forward in his career.
Results: Cavs in 7
Wrestling Equivalent: Hulk Hogan vs John Cena
ROUND 1: West.
DALLAS MAVERICKS VS LOS ANGELES CLIPPERS
Clippers are a team that have sucked for so long. And then they finally put a few upset wins together... and then BAM, reality gives them a Juwanna Kidd-esque bitch slap. Dallas on the other hand is exciting and relentless in their pursuit of the title. They don't have patience for jabronies such as the Clippers, so expect them to take that NBA basketball (leather, not that pussy microfiber one) shine it up real nice with the sweat from Josh Howard's shiny forehead... and stick it straight up LA's candy ass!
Results: Dallas sweep.
Wrestling Equivalent: The Rock Vs Barry Horowitz
PHOENIX SUNS vs LOS ANGELES LAKERS
Boy, this one has it all. Tons of star power. Talent. And blood boiling discontent for their opponent. This is the sequel to last year's Series of the Year and is going to be a war. Suns are led by reigning MVP of the league Steve Nash. A calm, collected Canadian that is the "excellence of execution" at what he does. On the other hand, you have the Lakers. NBA's darlings led by the flashy, controversial White Bitch slayer, Kobe Bryant. Love him or hate him, the man can ball and puts asses in the seats. He fights as hard as anyone in the league... which allows him to make this one a war. It comes down to a crucial Game 7, where Kobe's teammates step up to keep them in the game, and Kobe and Nash trade daggers in the 4th quarter.
96-96.
It all comes down to a crucial possession. Bryant on Nash. The clock runs down... Nash fakes left... goes right... and using his veteran savvy finds a wide open Amare Stoudemire for the dunk! 98-96 Suns.
Five seconds left.
Odom inbounds the ball to a bloodied and exhausted Kobe Bryant. He looks ahead, doubled by Nash and Raja Bell. At this point, his teammates are irrelevent. There isn't a sumbitch in the world who doesn't know who's taking this shot. It's Kobe time. He goes left... Does that funky super elevation shot from 25 feet. He releases. The ball looks good coming out of his hands...
... the buzzer sounds as it hits the rim...
... it rattles around...
... circles round and round...
...And rims out!
SUNS WIN! SUNS WIN! BAHH GAWD THE SUNS WIN!
BUT WAIT! In a stunning turn of events, Dick Bavetta opens up a can of whoopass on his whistle. He makes the motion.
“FOUL, #13 PHOENIX”.
The crowd is LIVID!
“BULLLLLLLLLLSHIIIIIIIIIT!”
“BULLLLLLLLSHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!”
The announcers are stunned. Replays are shown to try and show the phantom foul, which is indeed a phantom foul, as Nash’s arms come down well short of Bryant.
Nonetheless, #24 is at the line shooting 3. And you should all know what happens here.
First shot: It’s true.
Second shot: IT’s true.
Third shot: It’s damn true!
Lakers run off the court in victory as the crowd begins to riot.
Results: Lakers in 7.
Wrestling Equivalent: Bret “Hitman” Hart vs “Heartbreak Kid” Shawn Michaels, Montreal Screwjob
SAN ANTONIO SPURS Vs DENVER NUGGETS
This one isn’t personal, but you’d never know by watching it. Spurs have done it all, and after a brief stepdown from the main event, are back and ready to open up a can of whoopass on all comers. Denver is another team that feels disrespected. They also, are the most ghetto team in the NBA, led by cowardly heel Carmelo Anthony (fresh off a feud with Nate “Dink” Robinson) and his veteran sidekick Allen Iverson. When it’s all said and done, Denver puts off a valiant effort... but San Antonio’s stars make too many sweet passes
WHAT?!
Duncan hits too many hook shots.
WHAT?!
Parker nails a few too many floaters.
WHAT?!
Bruce Bowen’s stifling D holds Melo to too few points.
WHAT?!
And the San Antonio Spurs end up whoopin’ Denver’s ass all over Texas. And that’s the bottom line... cuz Fabricio Oberto said so!
Results: Spurs in 5.
Wrestling Equivalent: “Stone Cold” Steve Austin vs. Booker T
UTAH JAZZ Vs HOUSTON ROCKETS
Another interesting matchup. Utah has a ton of talent and had potential and is finally realizing that. Houston on the other hand has two of the most dominant players in the NBA, but for some reason, perhaps they killed a few hundred kittens in their past lives, just aren’t able to stay healthy. When they do, they can dominate anyone. And that’s what happens here. Despite a valiant effort by the Jazz, the one-two punch of Tmac and Yao delivers a couple of spike piledrivers that Utah just isnt able to recover from. They still have a bright future ahead of them and eventually will shine on the big stage.
Results: Rockets in 6.
Wrestling Equivalent: Ken Kennedy vs Triple H
So that’s it, bitches. Round 1 is in the books... Tune in next week for Round 2, cuz business is about to pick up as the Road to NBAmania continues.
Round 2 Matchups:
Pistons vs Cavaliers
Bulls vs Raptors
Mavericks vs Rockets
Spurs vs Lakers
Originally posted at ChewThemOut.com by Mario Castelli
But, as the bitter fucks that we are, we can take solace in one fact. Nobody's going to be happy this year. Rule 8 of The Big Book of Sports Rules (available from Fuckyourmother Publishing) dictates "No sport is allowed two consecutive years of playoff pwnage, or else Pacman Jones unleashes his wrath on small Cambodian children. Again."
And since last year's NBA playoffs were considered by many as the best in 20 years (Fuck you, Pat Riley), it could only mean one thing...
This year's playoffs are gonna suck!
Not just mild suck either. I'm talking Texas sorority girl after nine games of beer pong suck. I'm talking Shaq at the free throw line suck. I'm talking final season of Family Matters suck (Fuck you, lightskinned Harriet). Hell, I'm even talking TBS Braves announcers suck.
Lets fucking face it, as far as sports go, here in 2007, suck is the new black. We had a snoozer of a World Series between the TIGERS and CARDINALS (LOL @ Carlos Beltran). We had a boring ass Super Bowl where Rex Grossman defeated the rest of his team 29-17. We had the NCAA Final Bore where Florida blew out Ohio State, despite Greg Oden being more active than the Cincinnati Bengals legal team.
So before we tune into these weeks of inevitable one-sided series and star player injuries, lets instead look at what would've happened if the NBA playoffs were controlled by God himself...
The man responsible for Creating the Earth...
The skies...
And Wrestlemania.
Mr. Vincent Kennedy McMahon of the WWE!
If the almighty Vince and his writing team... the team that brought us such classics as Hulk Hogan, Stone Cold Steve Austin, and The Repo Man... were to storm into David Stern's office and launch a mafia style takeover... here's how Round 1 would go:
ROUND ONE: East
DETROIT PISTONS VS ORLANDO MAGIC
A classic matchup in the wrestling world: The crafty veterans vs the physically imposing young monsters. I can almost hear Jim Ross seizuring at the mouth "BAHH GAWD, THAT DWIGHT HOWARD IS A HOSS!" And indeed he is, but it isn't his time yet. The WWE has been known to cram their proven stars down our throats until we literally REFUSE to accept them, and that just isn't the case with Detroit yet. Expect the Magic to shine in a few moments as Howard shows off his freakish athleticism. It'll look like Detroit is down and hurting, but when Orlando goes in for the finish, it turns out Detroit was only playing possum and rolls them up for the pinfall victory.
Results: Detroit Pistons in 5 games.
Wrestling Equivalent: Ric Flair Vs Umaga
CHICAGO BULLS VS NEW JERSEY NETS
Basically a flipflop of the Detroit/Orlando series. Jason Kidd is a fan favorite who has put on a ton of exciting performances over his long NBA Career. Recently, he survived a ferocious feud with Knee Injury. He's also rebounding from one of the feuds of the year, where he lost his Hardcore title to wife Juwanna Kidd. In the end, this is just too much for the crafty veteran to overcome, and he's gonna do the J-O-B to the impressive upstart Chicago Bulls.
Results: Bulls in 6.
Wrestling Equivalent: Randy Orton vs Chris Benoit
TORONTO RAPTORS VS WASHINGTON WIZARDS
This one's a squash. Toronto is a team of young studs on the rise and ready to step into the bigtime. However, because they play in Canada and don't have any blazing personalities on their team, they're overlooked by a lot of fans. Washington Wizards are a poor remake of a team that was once formidable, but is nothing without its two best players. Raptors tear through their weak opposition here and win it with a crippling running powerbomb at 1:30.
Results: Raptors sweep.
Wrestling Equivalent: Bobby Lashley vs Legion of Doom 2.0 (Droz and Overweight Animal)
MIAMI HEAT VS CLEVELAND CAVALIERS
This is the premiere matchup on the road to NBAmania. On one hand, you have the Miami Heat, grizzled veterans with players that can dominated for ages. WHATCHA GONNA DO BROTHER, WHEN SHAQ-A-MANIA RUNS ATCHA WITH THE LARGEST HANDS IN THE WORLD? What you would do... is cower in fear. But not the Cavaliers. Cavaliers face tons of criticism as many feel their star player, LeBron James has not done what needs to be done to lead his team onto the next step. Well, consider that step taken here, as the Cavs stand tight and end go toe-to-toe with the legendary heat. Right by Miami. Returned by Cleveland. Clothesline by Miami. Cleveland returns the favor again! BAHH GAWD, THIS ONE'S A SLOBBERKNOCKER. Wade and Shaq dominate the first two games. LeBron fires back to take games 3 and 4, going for 40 each time. In Game 5 LeBron explodes for 45... but the effort is futile as the constant attack of Shaq and Wade and co wears the Cavs down. It looks as if Cavs have no chance as Lebron is beaten to a pulp, but in Game 6, LeBron's old running buddies Larry Hughes and Zydrunas Ilgauskas finally wake up and will the team to victory. In game 7... with the world watching, the trio turns in a 3 on 5 performance reminiscent of when the Texas Tornado, Ultimate Warrior and Hogan defeated the Million Dollar Team at Survivor Series. Lebron ends up hitting the final shot and finally earns some respect as he steps forward in his career.
Results: Cavs in 7
Wrestling Equivalent: Hulk Hogan vs John Cena
ROUND 1: West.
DALLAS MAVERICKS VS LOS ANGELES CLIPPERS
Clippers are a team that have sucked for so long. And then they finally put a few upset wins together... and then BAM, reality gives them a Juwanna Kidd-esque bitch slap. Dallas on the other hand is exciting and relentless in their pursuit of the title. They don't have patience for jabronies such as the Clippers, so expect them to take that NBA basketball (leather, not that pussy microfiber one) shine it up real nice with the sweat from Josh Howard's shiny forehead... and stick it straight up LA's candy ass!
Results: Dallas sweep.
Wrestling Equivalent: The Rock Vs Barry Horowitz
PHOENIX SUNS vs LOS ANGELES LAKERS
Boy, this one has it all. Tons of star power. Talent. And blood boiling discontent for their opponent. This is the sequel to last year's Series of the Year and is going to be a war. Suns are led by reigning MVP of the league Steve Nash. A calm, collected Canadian that is the "excellence of execution" at what he does. On the other hand, you have the Lakers. NBA's darlings led by the flashy, controversial White Bitch slayer, Kobe Bryant. Love him or hate him, the man can ball and puts asses in the seats. He fights as hard as anyone in the league... which allows him to make this one a war. It comes down to a crucial Game 7, where Kobe's teammates step up to keep them in the game, and Kobe and Nash trade daggers in the 4th quarter.
96-96.
It all comes down to a crucial possession. Bryant on Nash. The clock runs down... Nash fakes left... goes right... and using his veteran savvy finds a wide open Amare Stoudemire for the dunk! 98-96 Suns.
Five seconds left.
Odom inbounds the ball to a bloodied and exhausted Kobe Bryant. He looks ahead, doubled by Nash and Raja Bell. At this point, his teammates are irrelevent. There isn't a sumbitch in the world who doesn't know who's taking this shot. It's Kobe time. He goes left... Does that funky super elevation shot from 25 feet. He releases. The ball looks good coming out of his hands...
... the buzzer sounds as it hits the rim...
... it rattles around...
... circles round and round...
...And rims out!
SUNS WIN! SUNS WIN! BAHH GAWD THE SUNS WIN!
BUT WAIT! In a stunning turn of events, Dick Bavetta opens up a can of whoopass on his whistle. He makes the motion.
“FOUL, #13 PHOENIX”.
The crowd is LIVID!
“BULLLLLLLLLLSHIIIIIIIIIT!”
“BULLLLLLLLSHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!”
The announcers are stunned. Replays are shown to try and show the phantom foul, which is indeed a phantom foul, as Nash’s arms come down well short of Bryant.
Nonetheless, #24 is at the line shooting 3. And you should all know what happens here.
First shot: It’s true.
Second shot: IT’s true.
Third shot: It’s damn true!
Lakers run off the court in victory as the crowd begins to riot.
Results: Lakers in 7.
Wrestling Equivalent: Bret “Hitman” Hart vs “Heartbreak Kid” Shawn Michaels, Montreal Screwjob
SAN ANTONIO SPURS Vs DENVER NUGGETS
This one isn’t personal, but you’d never know by watching it. Spurs have done it all, and after a brief stepdown from the main event, are back and ready to open up a can of whoopass on all comers. Denver is another team that feels disrespected. They also, are the most ghetto team in the NBA, led by cowardly heel Carmelo Anthony (fresh off a feud with Nate “Dink” Robinson) and his veteran sidekick Allen Iverson. When it’s all said and done, Denver puts off a valiant effort... but San Antonio’s stars make too many sweet passes
WHAT?!
Duncan hits too many hook shots.
WHAT?!
Parker nails a few too many floaters.
WHAT?!
Bruce Bowen’s stifling D holds Melo to too few points.
WHAT?!
And the San Antonio Spurs end up whoopin’ Denver’s ass all over Texas. And that’s the bottom line... cuz Fabricio Oberto said so!
Results: Spurs in 5.
Wrestling Equivalent: “Stone Cold” Steve Austin vs. Booker T
UTAH JAZZ Vs HOUSTON ROCKETS
Another interesting matchup. Utah has a ton of talent and had potential and is finally realizing that. Houston on the other hand has two of the most dominant players in the NBA, but for some reason, perhaps they killed a few hundred kittens in their past lives, just aren’t able to stay healthy. When they do, they can dominate anyone. And that’s what happens here. Despite a valiant effort by the Jazz, the one-two punch of Tmac and Yao delivers a couple of spike piledrivers that Utah just isnt able to recover from. They still have a bright future ahead of them and eventually will shine on the big stage.
Results: Rockets in 6.
Wrestling Equivalent: Ken Kennedy vs Triple H
So that’s it, bitches. Round 1 is in the books... Tune in next week for Round 2, cuz business is about to pick up as the Road to NBAmania continues.
Round 2 Matchups:
Pistons vs Cavaliers
Bulls vs Raptors
Mavericks vs Rockets
Spurs vs Lakers
Originally posted at ChewThemOut.com by Mario Castelli
Move Over Evander, The UFC is the Real Deal
Over the last couple years, Dana White tried his darndest to shove the UFC down our throats; comparing it to a “real” version of professional wrestling. Marketing ploy or not, I was not sold.
I was a wrestling fan -- a HUGE wrestling fan. In fact, I and the guys bringing you this site were the same ones that brought you the news and opinion site ProWrestlingHeat.com... and you know what, Even I stopped watching four years ago.
Maybe I just outgrew it. Maybe it was because of Torrie Wilson making out with Billy Kidman on TV (and not me). Heck, maybe it was because I got a girlfriend. Mainly I got tired of the theatrics. I got tired of the same old act week in and week out.
Wrestling in the early 1990’s was about the actual wrestling. I loved it. In the early Y2J (Chris Jericho reference) it became about the show. Cheesy storylines that would make even the writers of General Hospital cringe. Screw the show, I wanted the sport: the sport that was taken away from me.
So, I responded by taking away the hundreds of dollars I spent each year on fifty-dollar pay-per-views and t-shirts with catchy sayings on them (If ya smell what Jason Paderon is cookin'!)
Still, despite no longer having me to boost its bottom line, the WWE has survived. As it turns out, this stylized crap of a product they were churning out had an audience after all: Guys who loved theatre, but were too macho to watch the interpretive dance version of the Lion King on Broadway.
The once thin line between sport and sports entertainment apparently underwent a steroids cycle that would make Barry Bonds jealous.
There was a glaring need for an alternative.
For the real fight fans, there was boxing, but we haven’t truly cared since Tyson was simultaneously biting human appendages while legitimizing careers. And Manny Pacquiao is still about 100 pounds too small and 100% too Filipino to become the next great American Champion. So where are we to turn?
People wonder why boxing is in such a decline and it could really be narrowed to three things. Lack of Americans, a lack of clear, crowned, undisputed champions and greedy promoters who killed the sport by pushing unready, B-rate boxers into our main events against champions who should have been kicked out of the sport a half-decade ago. Whoopee!
So just like wrestling and Fonzie, boxing jumped the shark. And all the while, business shark and Andre Agassi look-alike Dana White was circling his prey in preperation of a strike. He knew that his product, the Ultimate Fighting Championship, was about to take a Don King's afro-sized bite out of 18-40 year old male demographic that wasn't having its testosterone-driven need for compelling characters and brutal violence cared for.
Boy, did he bite.
The UFC is about as pure as you’re going to get. It’s filled with big named Americans that the public relates to like Chuck Liddell or Ken Shamrock and they do get their ass kicked by no-name up and comers when they aren’t prepared or are too old. There is only one champion in each division, and three months later, they’re matched up against another up-and-come who’s hungrier and more skilled than they were when they got the belt.
And they have their dominant fighters, like Matt Hughes, who despite being thrown in the ring with younger, faster guys, would always find a way to win. After Matt Hughes pretty much had his way with the Welterweight division for five years (insert Kobe Bryant joke here, I am not going there), he had a French-speaking wake up call from Georges St. Pierre, basically a non-gay, tougher version of Jean Girard from Talladega Nights.
I too was about to get a wake up call as I found myself watching the UFC 69 Pay-Per-View at my sister's house...
GSP fresh off his steady disposal of Matt Hughes, was matched up against Long-Island’s own 5'6" bad boy, Matt “The Terra” Serra, who earned a Rocky-esque title shot of a lifetime by winning the Utlimate Fighter Comback season.
I’m not going to pose as a real UFC fan. I’m not going to pretend like I order and analyze every Pay Per View like I did with Wrestling in my pre- and early post-pubescent years. I'm really not to sure why they don’t just repeatedly kick each other in the balls until one screams for their mother.
But what I did see was a guy who was supposed to be the future in GSP matched up against a guy who, with four losses, was out of Mixed Martial Arts all together before “The Comeback” season of The Ultimate Fighter resurrected his career.
Oh yeah, Serra was also about five inches shorter, ten years older, and trained with a guy nicknamed Drago (although Drago got his ass kicked on the undercard). (ROCKY! ROCKY! ROCKY!)
OK, so now Serra was on the biggest stage of his career, and was so much of an underdog that it seemed Joe Rogan (yeah, the Fear Factor guy) repeatedly tried to force-feed us Matt Serra’s MMA background like it was a hog testicle on Fear Factor.
Then it began. A thumbs up from Serra and Big John McCarthy’s signature “Let’s get it on!” started what should have been GSP’s easy stepping stone victory back to Matt Hughes.
The fight started and after 3 minutes, GSP slipped, the size differential disappeared. Boom! Boom! GSP Stumbles! A flurry of punches! More Stumbling… BOOM! GSP’s DOWN! SERRA WINS THE BELT!
Holy shit!
No way did Rocky just happen for real.
Then it struck me, as Matt Serra somersaulted around the octagon. The harshened reality set in. This could not happen in boxing anymore.
Not when Evander Holyfield and Roy Jones Jr., both of whom should have bowed out of the sport eight years ago, can literally still fight each other. Not when Antonio Tarver wiped the floor with Roy Jones Jr. in the peak of his prime, then went on to get his own ass handed to him by AARP spokesman Bernard Hopkins. Not when the boxing world still tries to convince me that Chris Byrd’s defensive style is reminiscent to that of Mohammed Ali in his prime when its probably more accurately compared to my little brother’s “No, stop!”-screaming, open hand-slapping and repeated bicycle-kicking defensive style he exhibits when I get pissed. (That’s right Jordan… be scared)
But it happened. And you know what; despite the semi-enormous payday that Dana White wanted from Hughes-Frenchie II, he very well might have done something that fight could never have accomplished: Legitimize his arguments.
Now I believe you Dana White, even though I don’t think you really believed yourself at times. But there you go. The any-man average Joe... the nine-to-one underdog...the pizza-loving chubby kid from Long Island... just defeated the guy who beat Goliath, setting up the inevitable Serra-Hughes (Sarah Hughes? The figure skater?? No the Fight! Oh, Boy! You better come up with something better then that Dana!)
But the difference is, at least for me, you can bet that I’ll be glued to the boob-tube watching David v. Goliath II in HDTV. Not even Don King could have done that.
Jason Paderon is the co-founder, columnist, and cartoonist for ChewThemOut.com. Additionally, he was a news reporter for the Staten Island Advance. He can be reached at paderon@chewthemout.com.
I was a wrestling fan -- a HUGE wrestling fan. In fact, I and the guys bringing you this site were the same ones that brought you the news and opinion site ProWrestlingHeat.com... and you know what, Even I stopped watching four years ago.
Maybe I just outgrew it. Maybe it was because of Torrie Wilson making out with Billy Kidman on TV (and not me). Heck, maybe it was because I got a girlfriend. Mainly I got tired of the theatrics. I got tired of the same old act week in and week out.
Wrestling in the early 1990’s was about the actual wrestling. I loved it. In the early Y2J (Chris Jericho reference) it became about the show. Cheesy storylines that would make even the writers of General Hospital cringe. Screw the show, I wanted the sport: the sport that was taken away from me.
So, I responded by taking away the hundreds of dollars I spent each year on fifty-dollar pay-per-views and t-shirts with catchy sayings on them (If ya smell what Jason Paderon is cookin'!)
Still, despite no longer having me to boost its bottom line, the WWE has survived. As it turns out, this stylized crap of a product they were churning out had an audience after all: Guys who loved theatre, but were too macho to watch the interpretive dance version of the Lion King on Broadway.
The once thin line between sport and sports entertainment apparently underwent a steroids cycle that would make Barry Bonds jealous.
There was a glaring need for an alternative.
For the real fight fans, there was boxing, but we haven’t truly cared since Tyson was simultaneously biting human appendages while legitimizing careers. And Manny Pacquiao is still about 100 pounds too small and 100% too Filipino to become the next great American Champion. So where are we to turn?
People wonder why boxing is in such a decline and it could really be narrowed to three things. Lack of Americans, a lack of clear, crowned, undisputed champions and greedy promoters who killed the sport by pushing unready, B-rate boxers into our main events against champions who should have been kicked out of the sport a half-decade ago. Whoopee!
So just like wrestling and Fonzie, boxing jumped the shark. And all the while, business shark and Andre Agassi look-alike Dana White was circling his prey in preperation of a strike. He knew that his product, the Ultimate Fighting Championship, was about to take a Don King's afro-sized bite out of 18-40 year old male demographic that wasn't having its testosterone-driven need for compelling characters and brutal violence cared for.
Boy, did he bite.
The UFC is about as pure as you’re going to get. It’s filled with big named Americans that the public relates to like Chuck Liddell or Ken Shamrock and they do get their ass kicked by no-name up and comers when they aren’t prepared or are too old. There is only one champion in each division, and three months later, they’re matched up against another up-and-come who’s hungrier and more skilled than they were when they got the belt.
And they have their dominant fighters, like Matt Hughes, who despite being thrown in the ring with younger, faster guys, would always find a way to win. After Matt Hughes pretty much had his way with the Welterweight division for five years (insert Kobe Bryant joke here, I am not going there), he had a French-speaking wake up call from Georges St. Pierre, basically a non-gay, tougher version of Jean Girard from Talladega Nights.
I too was about to get a wake up call as I found myself watching the UFC 69 Pay-Per-View at my sister's house...
GSP fresh off his steady disposal of Matt Hughes, was matched up against Long-Island’s own 5'6" bad boy, Matt “The Terra” Serra, who earned a Rocky-esque title shot of a lifetime by winning the Utlimate Fighter Comback season.
I’m not going to pose as a real UFC fan. I’m not going to pretend like I order and analyze every Pay Per View like I did with Wrestling in my pre- and early post-pubescent years. I'm really not to sure why they don’t just repeatedly kick each other in the balls until one screams for their mother.
But what I did see was a guy who was supposed to be the future in GSP matched up against a guy who, with four losses, was out of Mixed Martial Arts all together before “The Comeback” season of The Ultimate Fighter resurrected his career.
Oh yeah, Serra was also about five inches shorter, ten years older, and trained with a guy nicknamed Drago (although Drago got his ass kicked on the undercard). (ROCKY! ROCKY! ROCKY!)
OK, so now Serra was on the biggest stage of his career, and was so much of an underdog that it seemed Joe Rogan (yeah, the Fear Factor guy) repeatedly tried to force-feed us Matt Serra’s MMA background like it was a hog testicle on Fear Factor.
Then it began. A thumbs up from Serra and Big John McCarthy’s signature “Let’s get it on!” started what should have been GSP’s easy stepping stone victory back to Matt Hughes.
The fight started and after 3 minutes, GSP slipped, the size differential disappeared. Boom! Boom! GSP Stumbles! A flurry of punches! More Stumbling… BOOM! GSP’s DOWN! SERRA WINS THE BELT!
Holy shit!
No way did Rocky just happen for real.
Then it struck me, as Matt Serra somersaulted around the octagon. The harshened reality set in. This could not happen in boxing anymore.
Not when Evander Holyfield and Roy Jones Jr., both of whom should have bowed out of the sport eight years ago, can literally still fight each other. Not when Antonio Tarver wiped the floor with Roy Jones Jr. in the peak of his prime, then went on to get his own ass handed to him by AARP spokesman Bernard Hopkins. Not when the boxing world still tries to convince me that Chris Byrd’s defensive style is reminiscent to that of Mohammed Ali in his prime when its probably more accurately compared to my little brother’s “No, stop!”-screaming, open hand-slapping and repeated bicycle-kicking defensive style he exhibits when I get pissed. (That’s right Jordan… be scared)
But it happened. And you know what; despite the semi-enormous payday that Dana White wanted from Hughes-Frenchie II, he very well might have done something that fight could never have accomplished: Legitimize his arguments.
Now I believe you Dana White, even though I don’t think you really believed yourself at times. But there you go. The any-man average Joe... the nine-to-one underdog...the pizza-loving chubby kid from Long Island... just defeated the guy who beat Goliath, setting up the inevitable Serra-Hughes (Sarah Hughes? The figure skater?? No the Fight! Oh, Boy! You better come up with something better then that Dana!)
But the difference is, at least for me, you can bet that I’ll be glued to the boob-tube watching David v. Goliath II in HDTV. Not even Don King could have done that.
Jason Paderon is the co-founder, columnist, and cartoonist for ChewThemOut.com. Additionally, he was a news reporter for the Staten Island Advance. He can be reached at paderon@chewthemout.com.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)