Drop it like it's hot

Is it just me or are medics across both nations working serious overtime these days:

• Bosh goes out indefinetly 8 days ago with a knee injury. He is apparently back practicing
• TMac is walking around with his annual back injury. Out indefinetly since the 12th.
• Lamar has a well-documented issue with his knee.
• The Big Chinese Person fractures his medial tibial plateau. Not his knee, as Uncle Tim points out. Gone for 6 weeks.
• Monta Ellis, Yay Area hero, hurts his shoulder in last night's game.
• Josh Smith has hernia surgery, gone for four weeks.
• Nenad Krstic shreds his anterior cruciate ligament. Done for the year.
• Sam.i.am w/plantar fasciitis, could sit out a few games.

In a related note, have a very Merry Xmas watching the G.O.A.T. duking it out with Public Enemy #1.

EDIT: Observe Dan le Batard's excellent profile on KB24. More on that later.

Gangsta Gangsta

Legiterally hours after Stop Snitchin' and JR were removed from the Nuggets lineup, the Nuggets go out and find an Answer resting on the scrap heap. Billy King did not fail to dissapoint, taking back a confusing medley of players (1.e. Joe Smith + Andre Miller) and a couple of 1st rounders.

This is w/o doubt the second most exciting destination for A.I., finishing just behind Minnesota on the Pump-o-Meter. While their status as the ultimate brawling team was somewhat in doubt as far as their status in the all-time annals, this move cements their #1 spot. Answer brings toughness+willingness to sacrifice whatever it takes to drag his teammates into the storied land.
Think about this for a second before you talk about team chemistry, and how Melo and Ivey will have a tough time adapting to each other: A.I. has been busting his ass up and down the court for about 5 years w/o a single teammate worthy of his lofty stature. Now, picture him w/a bunch of quality teammates sorely in need of an offensive boost now that Options 1 and 2 are suspended for 15 and 10, respectively. It's true that there will be 2 learning curves for Iverson, one w/o Melo and JR, one w/both in full effect.

Before you write this entire move off as stupid on both parties, consider that Iverson has nothing but desire to win. I have not doubt that not only will he not fuck this situation up by playing petulant/former frustrated alpha dog, but in fact he will embrace his role as perhaps the second banana. Or maybe Melo and A.I. will figure a unique way to share the ball and scoring responsibility in a way that benefits both of them in a quest for a championship. I would hope that they can form some kind of alliance that results in both of them scoring obscene amounts on the same court, with JR picking up the rest of the point-scoring tab.

While I don't yet know how that will work, it's my sense that Melo might start spending more time on the perimiter, allowing Iverson ample room for his barely controlled drives toward the rim. Although this trade still leaves Denver bereft of shooters, it should allow them to play at what has become the league's fastest pace with a premier PG/SG running the show.

BLACK SUNS BABY!

Don't never blink

Step away for a moment and look at what you miss:

1. Kobe goes for 45 and AgentZero explodes for 60 on the same court. Lamar (the blog + the person were rightfully ecstatic.
2. Brawl @ MSG.

As a subhead to Item 2, Melo gets slapped w/15 games, JR Smith w/10, and NateRob w/10.



All these suspensions represent a concerted effort by Stern + co. to make a move away from the gangsta-ism repped so heartlessly by A.I., Melo, and even Isiah in his playing days. The brawl itself seems like pretty minor spat; the only thing even vaguely remarkable was Melo pimp-slapping Mardy Collins then backpedaling away from Jared Jeffries for the length of the floor.

I don't particularly understand why Melo got hit with such a large suspension when it was clearly Napoleon complex'd NateRob that pushed the whole damn altercation to a level that passed what would have been appropriate for the foul. JR was clearly restrained and everything was on the verge of calming down when NR came in and blew that shit up.

If anything, Melo's suspension is justified for the sheer stupidity of it. How do you smack the worst player on the Knicks for yapping at you? Point up to that Jumbotron and remind him not only do you (a) earn more money in a single year than he will in his life (b) just ran his squad off the court and (c) starred in a ridiculous "Stop Snitchin" gang video straight out of Ballimore.
To be honest, this whole thing was more than a little disappointing. The Nuggets have arguably the best brawling squad in the NBA, bar none. Perhaps the 04 Pacers could give them a run for their money, but the Nugs have some serious bangers, which fall into a few main categories:

1. Hood: Melo, JR Smith, K Mart (when healthy)
2. Foreigners: Eduardo Najera, Nene (seems like a monolith. a badass monolith.)
3. Guys Not Particularly Dangerous on the Surface but Make You Vaguely Nervous: Marcus Camby, Earl Boykins

Name another team with a lineup that can even pretend to compete w/them. Simmons says the Wiz come close, and I guess I buy that just b/c Gil seems like he has only a vague idea of what's happening at any given time and so could be superdangerous. Even if he decided that the fight was the perfect time for a powernap.

Our logo falls into the dust.

Happy birthday to me, but Lamar crumpled like so many cards in a win against the Rockets on Tuesday night.

His fall from the ranks of Lakerland for at least a month could return the Lakes to their last year's paradigm: Kobe scores every time down while the rest of the team takes in his spectacle.

Don't get me wrong; Mamba is perhaps the G.O.A.T. and probably already is with regards to scoring the basketball. However, the evolution of the Lakes into a multifaceted attacking machine was among the more thrilling aspects of this 1/4 done year.

To a large extent, Lamar enabled their startling push into importance. He seemed energized by the death of his infant son. Perhaps his all-encompassing grief finally enabled him to begin to fathom the almost limitless death of his talents. Or, it could be that another year of Phil Jackson was and is causing the Lakers to come together like so many Beatles.The long term effects of Odom's injury could prove more deadly than losing Kobe for a similar span of time. Not to suggest that Odom is more valuable than Mamba. Quite the opposite--his status as 2nd best is what makes this injury so devastating.

Take tonight's game against the Mavericks as a prime example. Mamba dominated the Q3, but as the Lakers fell further and further back as 4Q went on, there was no-one to help Kobe to shoulder the load. Had Kobe been injured, a kind of communal spirit would have been in effect; since there would have been no focal point at which the Mavericks could direct their defensive onslaught, they would have instead been forced to contend with the very real possibility of points coming from anywhere on the floor. As it was, Kobe was reduced to wild heaves with an only theoretical possibility of bringing his team back into it.
The Lakers are not an elite team yet, but Lamar's multifaceted goodness pushed them constantly in the direction of the sanctity of a Top-5 seed. It remains to be seen whether or not they can weather his stormy absence from the court, but never underestimate the wizardry of the man in the suit.

Strange things are afoot at the Circle-K

On the news front:

1. I guess the Ivey trade is superbig news after all. The trade machine makes its season debut, allowing me to while away the hours until Iverson finds his new home.
2. Luke Walton is the second most popular Laker with the ladies. Him and Kobe. Wow.
3. Amare Stoudemire is like 95% back--observe his performace against NJ on Friday.
4. The leather is back.

That is all.

The Answer Cometh

Fresh off denying Jerry Sloan his 1,000th, KG drops a bombshell I certainly didn't see coming.
For those too lazy to click through, here's what it is:

"Bring it on, I love 'The Answer," Garnett said Friday night. "We welcome A.I. with open arms. Where's Kevin McHale?"

Whoa.
I have to admit that I'm not entirely ready for this pairing to happen just yet. Simmons claims that KG is the ultimate second banana, whatever that means. He's never truly been a dominant scorer in the purest sense of the word. Also, he's never been a dominant big man, despite being arguably the best in the game.

His versatility is his ultimate downfall. KG resembles Lamar a lot in that regard; he is perhaps tortured by his ability to do so much, that he settles for less than the sum of his parts. For Garnett, this is less true than it is for Lamar, but the concept lurks just below the surface.

Were he to focus on any one aspect of his game, he might morph into a more dominant, more perfect player than he already is. However, it is that dangerous element of raw imperfection that lends KG's game its indisputable charm. He isn't shackled to the post like so many of his predecessors and prodecessors.Garnett isn't easily comparable to anyone in particular. If anything, he is the idealized image of what Fab5-era CWebb should have been. Minus the boneheaded timeout calls, the petulance, and plus some insane competitive fervor.

The Answer brings many of the same elements to the table. He is a non-traditional player in a very real sense of the word; upon NBA entry, he violated every conceivable rule of style and etiquette both on the court and off on his way to becoming the Best 6-Footer Ever (caps definitely necessary.)

Like KG, he brings an insatiable desire for victory onto the floor, as well as the skills and motivation to sacrifice every inch of his frail humanity to achieve that success.

However, he differs from Garnett in his desire to score the damn ball. While KG sometimes seems vaguely content to exist w/in the flow of the offense, AI Creates his own flow on the fly. Sometimes he realigns some inviolable tenets of The Right Way while doing so, but so be it. Maybe all Garnett needs to reach his own personal promised land is a little bit of hood flavor.

Stand up and give thanks

Lamar Blogom celebrates its first Thanksgiving with a feast fit for a king. The seazon has so far yielded bountiful treasures with the promise of many more to come. So, we list 24 things that we are thankful for:

1. Andrew Bynum becoming Big Pussy and flashing strands of future greatness.
2. ATLanta proving that you can win games with a roster of only people 6'7" or 6'8".
3. The Heat collapsing in on themselves like some kind of aging supernova.
4. Starbury's Starburies.
5. Nate Robinson swatting Yao Ming.
6. Yao Ming, best center in the league.
7. Kevin Garnett, tortured soul in search of absolution.
8. Amare's return.
9. Josh Smith.
10. Gerald Wallace.
11. Brendan Haywood's favorite movie is Coming to America.
12. CP3 and Weezy F. Baby bringing back the N.O.
13. Chris Bosh making game winning 3s.
14. Don Nelson taking over the Yay Area.
15. Monta Ellis.
16. Jerry Sloan fashioning a sleek new version of Old School.
17. Kaveman's hair.
18. TMac is healthy.
19. Darko (almost) dominant.
20. Grant Hill's ankles are intact.
21. Mamba's newfound efficiency.
22. JR Smith, NBA starter.
23. Ron Ron is still playing.
    
24. Lamar Odom beginning to fathom his own depths.
    

Pleasures abound

Tuesday was a special time in Lamar Blogom history; it was the first game ever attended with Lamar distinctly in mind. Of course, he decided to freak the joint up.

Someone who did the opposite of freak the joint up was Mamba. We've discussed him before, way back in June of 2006 A.D. What we did not discuss is his insane artistry and newfound efficiency. His knee surgery, which sidelined him for the first two games of this year and still probably continues to limit him even as he composes his unique art on the basketball court. While he usually paints masterpieces full of fluidity and graceful brushstrokes, it is as if he has been handed watercolors with which to replicate the Mona Lisa.

After he drove Shaq from the mix, the masses decried him as a traitorous snake in the grass. He remains a petulant force to be contended with--see Game 7 of last year's 1st round for example--but despite or perhaps because of his balance of maturity and childishness Mamba rises above the hapless flocks with his scoring genius.

His 2004 was of disastrous proportions, aided and abetted by the non-factor of Rudy Tomjonavich and his later illness-induced substitute Frank Hamblen. Reunited with the Wizard of Hollywood, Mamba saw his star rise anew, outshining even his former Shaq-fu-aided greatness. At times he seemed to transcend the sport itself as he glided about the hardwood, throwing in baskets from insane angles with approximately half the damn Staples Center in his grill.

Mamba's frenzied bloodlust crested in the month-long stretch in which he dropped 62 and 81 on the Mavs and Raps, respectively. Afterwards, perhaps fueled by his teammates' emergence as a force viable of the master's consideration, he receded slightly from the spotlight. Not to say that he did not still own the court like a lion tamer, but he allowed others to bask in his glorious glow as he gallivanted about on his holy quest.
Shaq-fu was the first of the legendary duo to recapture former glory without the other, but he did so at the hands of the Devil himself, Dwyane Wade. The referees aided and abetted Shaq in his quest for greatness. They did no such favor for his former teammate and nemesis, as he found himself robbed of a game-changing bucket in the waning moments of Game 1.

That is beside the point. The point is that even as Mamba finds himself limited by a bum knee and tough conference, he will reinvent himself and his teammates to rise above the unwashed horde in a quest for absolution. Perhaps it won't come this season, but as Andrew "Big Pussy" Bynum grows and matures along with Turiaf the Beast, his conflict will be resolved with a success so resounding as to shake the foundations of the sport to their core.

If a homey's still moving, he's holding it down

Alright, I admit that the title of this post is quoting Lil' Wayne's fiery track "Georgia Bush". I also admit that "homey" was a completely different word in the track, a word that shouldn't be tossed around by whitey.

The subject of this post isn't the revitalization of N.O., nor is it something about the durrrty in general. No, Lamar throws his gaze to Phila, where AI is currently keeping it real as shit. A teenage was shot because he refused to give up his Answer jersey to a group of ruffians, and now Answer is paying for his funeral. Among all the things A.I. has done in his career, this is without a doubt the most noble and selfless. Well, duh.

We've talked about Iverson before, but in the context of Team USA and their doctrine of dominance. Now, his relationship to the Lig at large is examined.

I've never enjoyed watching Allen Iverson. Perhaps it's the Finals appearance against my beloved Lakers in 2001, or maybe I harbor some latent feelings of supressed racism, but his game is generally without aesthetic merits as far as I'm concerned.

That does not mean that he is without import to the Lig. Entirely the opposite--because he makes whitey so uncomfortable by fearlessly repping his thug/gangsta image, he is demonized in whatever he does. The conventional wisdom is that he doesn't share the ball enough because he's too "street," or that he hot-dogs too much for his own damn good.
One of those criticisms is perhaps true: for all his merits, Iverson didn't tend to share the ball around a whole lot until two years ago. But both deny the man's insane toughness and win-at-all-costs sensibility. Iverson should, by all rights, be revered by the Right Way NBA for his bulldog mentality. Dude tosses his 6'0"-and-skinny frame into the fires of war each and every time he rides onto the hardwood, but cannot shake the demonic marker that has been so cruelly placed upon his slender shoulders. No matter how hard he attacks the bucket, he will forever be regarded as a ballhog showoff who just happens to have played for some damn good basketball teams.

When Larry Brown, that paragon of righteous basketball, helmed the 76ers, Iverson was faced with a constant battle. Although Brown clearly acknowledged that Iverson could and should be the only scoring option on the team, there were mighty battles waged in the press between the two. Iverson's famous practice speach is just one small example of their ongoing struggle.

What cannot be ignored about their pairing is that it worked. Kinda. They made the damn Finals in 2001 with nothing beyond Iverson, Aaron McKie, and Dikembe Mutombo on either end of the floor. Iverson did nothing less than single-handedly win every game for the 76ers, dragging them by their struggling hair into some version of the promised land.

They fell short, and Larry was greeting with resounding praise for his fabulous job wringing success from what should have been a fruitless measure. The praise fell upon the wrong head. For all of his flaws, and they are many and multifarious, Iverson holds shit down on the offensive end. Sacrificing your body 82 games (and more) at a time is a measure that should not, by rights, be undertaken by an individual that could be described as shrimpy.

However, because of Answer's heart, lungs, and brains, he does that shit daily, with little help from any of his compatriots.

Can't get up like you need Viagra

K-Mart is something of a polarizing presence in the NBA. On the one hand, he is a player whose sucess is predicated on bland hustle and ridiculous bounce. On the other, he was suspended for the playoffs as a result of badmouthing George Karl and the rest of the Nugs in the press.

What no-one can dispute is that he's about to miss the rest of the season with a continuation of knee problems. As anyone who has ever played basketball knows, the knee is key to basic functionality on the court. It is even more key for someone whose value is predicated on the fact that he can jump out the damn gym.
KMart is an interesting player for both systems in which he has played in his career. On the Nets, JKidd uncaged his shit like an animal. KMart is at his best when he acts as a conduit for a more creative force. Most players of his type (explosive bangers with few other basketball skills) are merely paintbrushes for the maestros that they should be playing next to. He was the perfect brush for Kidd's creative style--he's a moderately fast player with bounce out the building.

His lack of other skills are incidental: Kidd has such a catalogue of moves and deceptions, but lacks the ability to score. Perhaps because he feels he should embody the purest of pure points that he so disdains developing a reputable J, but the fact is that his jumper is merely adequate for professional ball. Sure he can make the occaisional 3 or two, but he never takes the game over on the offensive like his Canadian counterpart.It is Kidd's non-presence on the scoring end of the offense that makes KMart such a valuable counterpoint to his oblique attack. Martin was the exlamation point to Kidd's run-on sentence. Kidd is unique in the regard that he had only one means of punctuation available to him both times he went to the Finals. KMart and RJ provide only exclamation points as resolution to Kidd's creations. By contrast, Steve Nash has an arsenal of punctuation at his disposal and finds himself continually short of the perfect story. He can construct a hell of a sentence, but his attack seems sometimes to meander, to lack the incisiveness that so defined the New Jersey championship runs.

KMart was somewhat of a different type player in Mile High. Rather than serving as a piece of creation for a maestro, he was now expected to help define a team with his supreme athleticism. As we have established, he is the type best served to be the subjects of creation, not its master. Martin was hopelessly overmatched in his role, but still managed to bang out some semi-impressive shit. Andre Miller is no Jason Kidd, but his amateur scribblings found an excellent instrument in Martin.

The occaisonal flying slams were interrupted by periods of seemingly unending boredom. Although he's capable of some basic hustle plays (rebounds, diving for loose balls, looking worn out,) KMart was not near the contributor, nor the max-type player that the Nuggets envisioned. Melo's emergence has done nothing to help his case. No longer the top option on offense, KMart was instead forced to contribute on defense only. It wasn't as if he was the greatest #1 option, but he had his damn pride, right?

From thence the explosion came. From thence his knee decided to quit. From thence, the Nuggets are totally fucked.

Coming at you like Adebisi

We shoulda seen it coming. Dude tosses down a slam to be reckoned with on Shaq-fu and then has the gall to trade elbows with Shaq on his way downcourt. This one play seems to arbit greatness more so than a single game, even more than a single playoff series. It seemed no accident that Bynum took his schooling, sprinted downcourt, and made Shaq-fu his little prison bitch.
Enter this season: the Lakes' two top centers go down with assorted injuries, leaving only the untest Bynum to man the middle. Conventional wisdom says the Lakes are in serious goddamn trouble. Of course, Bynum is destined for greatness.

The only things holding him back are foul-proneness and PhilJax' notorious fickleness when it comes to young players. Bynum is far from a grizzly vet; at this point in his life he might be too full of enthusiam to contribute to a winning effort on a consistent basis. But that enthusiasm that holds him back also drives him forward, making him the semi-unstoppable force that he now is. If he continues to mature (and calm down) he will become what the Bulls only imagined when they called the name Edward Curry way back when.
Dude has an impressive motor, especially at his size. He's 7'0" and seems to have no trouble jumping and rejumping to either board or block with the other bigs. Basically, he's Dennis Rodman in Shaq-fu's body, but without the requisite craziness of the former, or the mumbling monolithicness of the latter. His game is predicated more on the boyish pursuit of acceptance from his teammates than Rodman's Lust for Life or Shaq's big bully dominance.

Bynum's maturation may bring untold wonders, or it may drag him down into the depths of Currydom, destroying his boyish joy for the game of basketball along with its mellowing and seasoning effects. If he can find some way to convince PhilJax to play him more often, perhaps that enthusiasm will remain, though tempered by the dulcet tones of sweet experience.

P.S. Andrew is in serious need of a nickname. Comment with you ideas.

Fix What Ails Ya

The ATL makes up for its constant musical rennaissance by being somewhat of a dead spot for professional sports--at least of late. The Braves saw their million year run as objects of dominance come to a crashing close, Mike Vick alternates athletic ascendancy with moments of purest trash, and the Hawks have fallen like stones ever since the Human Highlight Reel took his talents elsewhere.

Here at Lamar Blogom, we do not concern ourselves with the trivialities of baseball or football (and certainly not hockey or NASCAR). That leaves one possible topic of discussion; the STATlanta Hawks.
The Hawks represent an interesting paradox--nearly everyone on their roster is between the heights of 6'5" and 6'9", which includes the mean NBA height. (I think its somewhere around 6'6", just below 6'7".) The point is that their roster is composed entirely of the type of slasher/banger that so defines what is good and pure about NBA basketball. Unfortunately, the Hawks have found that with a roster with such a unique composition that competition in this NBA is damn near impossible. Three times in the last three years, they have floundered somewhere below mediocracy, with only small steps toward achieving that legitimacy that every organization strives for. Yes, even the Knicks.

Yes, they have screamed out the gate like a damn freight train this year, with Joe Johnson behaving like a latter day Kobe, Josh Smith getting his freak on (I recommend searching "Josh Smith putback" on YouTube and observing the majesty), and Speedy ClaxTron holding shit down from the point guard position. But we must ask ourselves how long they can keep up the kind of breakneck pace typically reserved for future NBA champions.

But, we came here to bury Caesar, not to praise him. So begins the season, now find out how it should continue.The Hawks need to completely revolutionize three spots on their roster: PG, PF, and C. They must cast down Shelden Williams, Zaza Pachulia, and relegate the ClaxTron to the bench where he belongs. The changes I am about to lay out are not easy, nor should the be construed as such. Rather, they are the type of high-risk, high-reward manuevers that Belkin et. al. should be engaging in right about now.



#1: Get Shaun Livingston.

I said this shit wasn't gonna be easy, and this is certainly the least easy of any of the suggestions I'm laying out. It is, however, the most significant. In acquiring Livingston, the Hawks would be getting themselves a dude who knows how to distribute, knows how to run, and knows how to be a physical freak. Dude is a 6'7" PG, which molds perfectly with the stringent characteristics required for future Hawkdom. To get him, it's probably gonna cost an unprotected 1st rounder and a valuable piece. They should do it at the drop of the hat--he would give their offense purpose and direction by his very existence on the floor. Also, he's 6'7". Ridiculous.

#2: Lay hands on J.R. Smith.
This facet of their plan will be significantly easier than part no. 1. Smith has a rep as a undisciplinable free spirit obsessed with his own stats and tossing down incredible dunks. In reality, most of this is probably true, but the Hawks should pair him up with the man who could very well be his brother in disguise. In the process, they'll fuck up anybody even moderately confused at the distinction between JSmoove and J.R. Also, they grab someone fairly deadly from 3, someone who flies out the building, and someone else who's 6'7". Start him alongside Shaun, Joe, Josh, and the Center to be Named Later or bring his bad self off the bench, he will bring another superathletic, young body to terrify the other team with.


#3: The Center Position
There's some debate circling about Lamar Blogom HQ about how exactly they should solve their woes at the 5 spot. The list is down to 5 candidates (appropriately):

1. Tyrus Thomas
2. Stromile Swift
3. Boris Diaw
4. Lamar Odom
5. Chris Wilcox

Each has their own special strengths and flaws. Of the set, Stro would be the easiest to come by. He, however, brings a rep for being a big softy and not praciticing hard enough to make a tangible difference in a game. If the Hawks can harness his multifarious talents, they would have a testament to the athleticism of the human body on their hands.

They could go in another direction, acquiring a toolsy amoeba-type like Diaw or Odom to hold down the middle. These two both have the skillset to distribute the ball, set screens, rebound, and occaisionally score their own selves when the time comes. I know Diaw used to be a Hawk. Bad on them, and they should try their damndest to wring him away from the Suns.

If they fail in all of these quests except the one for Swift, they may consider it a victory if they can harness his considerable talents into a being that bangs on the offensive end of the floor, swats on the defensive end, and generally is just a complete badass.

NBA Eve

On the eve of the NBA season, we witness the passing of a legend. As tragic as his demise is, I have no frame of reference other than that provided by the occasionally good Sports Guy.

The man's death is tragic; no-one has meant more (sports-related) to a city probably ever. The only one who comes close is Larry Bird. Notice how all of these are in Boston.

Is that because Boston is so depressing that only sports give it meaning?

Or is it that Bill Simmons is the only column I read that deals with this shit?

We report, you decide.

* * *

City-wide days of mourning aside, a truly joyous time is about to happen on earth. Kicking off in Miami and LA, the season starts with two tantalizing matchups. Both match Conference Finalists against their first round opponents and both involve seriously talented 2-guards.

That's where the similarities end. Miami should be (in Lamar's estimation) the most hated champion in recent memory, whereas Phoenix will be (hopefully) the most loved in the near future. The Lakers and Bulls are both former products of that 90s-Early 00s star-centric system that placed a premium on acquiring one or two players with limitless talent and surrounding them with semi-crappy but cheap players.

If anything, the Suns take the Jordan Mandate to an extreme unrelated to it and yet ultimately so. Their #1 superstar is a formerly floppy-haired Canuck obsessed with the possibility that he can be defined not by supernatural gifts of his own, but rather that he gathers his worth from making the mundane abilities of his teammates somehow transcendent of the basketball norm.

The Suns revolve around Nash, but at the same time control him. He is Frankenstein, he creates the monster, but ultimately the monster makes its master the slave.

Because the Suns revolve so much around a singular star, one might say that they fit the Jordan Mandate perfectly, but that ignores the essential reality of Sunsiness.

Sunsiness means that they are more than the sum of their parts. They assemble a whole that functions together as a whole, but to which one part is so integral that without it the entirety of the system would collapse.

Nash is not only the defining factor of the Suns factory, but he is also the one most victimized by its existence as a seamless entity. Nash is defined by the Suns system--run and shoot, shoot and run--and struggles not to overcome it. He is nothing more than a worker in the Suns farm, and yet he owns the farm himself.

SLAM 102

This is turning rather rapidly into a Gilbert Arenas fanblog of sorts, and guaranteed that it will be shifted away from him rapdily once the seazon starts (6 days?!), but damn if this tat on the cover of SLAM 102 isn't holding shit down in a major way:
You can head on over to FreeDarko to pick up your copy of the new FD shirt. "Es La Pata Del Diablo" means literally "He is the leg of the Devil," but it translates more as one who likes to play pranks. So, there's that.

Two seasons too late, but...

The Dungeon Family literally is the Phoenix Suns.

What's Gilbert Wearing?

Peep the new Wizards unis (just press play.)

Fairly fab, including the fashion expert and Phil Chenier pulling some vaguely uncomfortable banter with the anchor.

Also interesting is Chenier's commentary on the new ball.

The First in a Series of Season Preview Chats Between the Two Creators

BOBDUCK: ay: let's make t-shirts

PMAC: shawn marions face

PMAC: thats it

PMAC: somehow that represents it

BOBDUCK: lamar fucking odom nukk

BOBDUCK: shawn is good

BOBDUCK: lamar is basically a deity though

PMAC: too bad amare flies

PMAC: literally

PMAC: dude got wings

BOBDUCK: lamar do

PMAC: should call him hermes

BOBDUCK: i know

BOBDUCK: that dude kind of more like achilles

PMAC: tro

BOBDUCK: dino thug is my 2nd favorite of 2003

BOBDUCK: darko being #1

PMAC: haha

PMAC: melo? bron bron?

PMAC: WADE

PMAC: your boy

BOBDUCK: wade is far from my homey

PMAC: i know

BOBDUCK: melo and bron bron are my homeys

BOBDUCK: but darko is my homey

PMAC: hes kinda fake tho

BOBDUCK: homey is literally g

PMAC: to be honest i aint that amped

BOBDUCK: he's legit diaw-steez

BOBDUCK: in terms of breakouts

BOBDUCK: he might be rough in the 1st half

BOBDUCK: but in the 2nd half

BOBDUCK: him and horseboy bout to bangstick like nem-but

PMAC: too bad diaw is legit

BOBDUCK: bout to be best frontcourt since wallace/wallace

BOBDUCK: darko is legit

BOBDUCK: but for different reasons

PMAC: i guess

BOBDUCK: that nukka diaw tight

BOBDUCK: he slasher and passer and shit

PMAC: yea

PMAC: he has a weird playing style tho

PMAC: na mean

BOBDUCK: darko is more top of the key j bones

BOBDUCK: tro, tro

BOBDUCK: diaw a guard in a 6'8" big man's body

BOBDUCK: he like tony parker if t parks was huge

PMAC: yea

BOBDUCK: they have a lot of the same skillset

BOBDUCK: but for some reason diaw can't play guard

BOBDUCK: maybe he's too slow?

BOBDUCK: you think the suns are going all the way?

PMAC: yup

PMAC: diaws just a tad too tall

BOBDUCK: he's only 6'8"

PMAC: and the suns dont need that form ho

BOBDUCK: the suns seem to create their own convention

PMAC: yea

BOBDUCK: but at this point it's fairly mundane

BOBDUCK: i think amare is gonna have an up and down year

BOBDUCK: if he's back by the playoffs though...

PMAC: i hope its all up

PMAC: he still has bounce

BOBDUCK: back like all the way

PMAC: ive been watching the preseason

PMAC: he averaged like 46 vs the mavs two years ago

PMAC: like no exageration

PMAC: over 6 games

BOBDUCK: dern

PMAC: he was DICKIN

BOBDUCK: achilles can fly

PMAC: capita D

PMAC: yep

BOBDUCK: but its that knee

PMAC: im not too worried

BOBDUCK: and he probably is a little out of place still

BOBDUCK: been away for a year

BOBDUCK: from the offense+defense i mean

PMAC: maybe

PMAC: but the suns will get to the playoffs wether hes there or not

PMAC: so he has 82 games to get back

BOBDUCK: oh, no doubt

PMAC: its not like their season rests on him

PMAC: which is nice

PMAC: like for kobe, no adjustment period allowed

PMAC: but i will say that jordan farmar is lookin pretty baller so far

BOBDUCK: that's what i hear

BOBDUCK: not too much optimism he'll take that shit from smush though

BOBDUCK: which is fairly tragic

PMAC: whatever

BOBDUCK: for all smush's magical bounciness, he is low-key bad

PMAC: at least when smush gets his usual 8 bangs + 89 turnovers, farmar will be a sold backup

BOBDUCK: yeah

PMAC: and turaif + bynum looking good too

BOBDUCK: if smush could get a j he would be better

PMAC: lakers squad actually looking low key nice

PMAC: i wont even lie

PMAC: smush actually cashes tres tho

BOBDUCK: laker squad looking aight only because of pjax

BOBDUCK: they're probably like 47 wins

BOBDUCK: maybe 50 if someone else steps the fuck up

PMAC: i actually say fiddy

PMAC: plus they got radmon

BOBDUCK: bynum needs to be good right quick

PMAC: another big thug

PMAC: wit a j

BOBDUCK: he's basically brian cook version 1.1

PMAC: turiaf still his usual too-amped-for saftey self

PMAC: admit brian cook is shit

PMAC: and cant dunk

BOBDUCK: brian cook can shoot some js

BOBDUCK: radman isn't that much better

PMAC: yea, but if he tries to bang hell get hurt

PMAC: radmon is nice

PMAC: he was killing in the playoff

PMAC: s

BOBDUCK: i guess

BOBDUCK: he should start over kwame

BOBDUCK: it should be

BOBDUCK: farmar+kobe+lamar+radman+mihm

PMAC: the lakers bench, no matter who starts, may be one of the best in the L

BOBDUCK: hmm

PMAC: no chance farmar starts

BOBDUCK: i would take some issue with that

BOBDUCK: i wish he would though

PMAC: think about it

BOBDUCK: the suns bench is nice

BOBDUCK: i guess the lakers have a good bench

BOBDUCK: but the mavs are better

PMAC: bench = farmar, bynum, kwame,

BOBDUCK: bynum kinda sucks still

PMAC: they dont have that thug tho

PMAC: the mavs

BOBDUCK: that bang just got you amped

PMAC: that guard

BOBDUCK: devin harris?

PMAC: not j how

PMAC: m

PMAC: the fake ass hair

BOBDUCK: marquis daniels

PMAC: marquis

PMAC: yea

BOBDUCK: he went to the pacers

PMAC: he was kinda tight

BOBDUCK: he's a favorite of mine

PMAC: yea

PMAC: hes underrated

PMAC: pacers bout to be good

PMAC: to bad they have 97 small forwards

BOBDUCK: brb after dinner

PMAC: ok

BOBDUCK: aight nukka

PMAC: i was looking at the pacers roster

PMAC: out of 18 players they have like 8 small forwards

PMAC: ridic

BOBDUCK: dern

BOBDUCK: link me

PMAC: PACERS: Pacers Roster

BOBDUCK: they have decent balance

BOBDUCK: i don't think they're all sfs

PMAC: i guess

BOBDUCK: harrington is more of a pf

PMAC: shawne will, stephen j, james white

BOBDUCK: how fearsome is their starting lineup gonna theoretically be

BOBDUCK: ?

BOBDUCK: j tins

PMAC: yea

BOBDUCK: quis

PMAC: a great vid game squad

PMAC: fa sho

PMAC: like the knicks

BOBDUCK: stejax

BOBDUCK: harrington

BOBDUCK: jermaine

PMAC: does james white have bounce in 2k7?

BOBDUCK: i ain't know

PMAC: cuz he went thru the legs from the free throw line

PMAC: so he should have 99

PMAC: cuz no one else can do that

BOBDUCK: i ain't checked yet

BOBDUCK: i ain't herd the name until now

PMAC: have u seen that dunk tho?

PMAC: oh

PMAC: ill link u up

PMAC: its INSANE

PMAC: in this vid he misses the thru the legs from free throw

PMAC: but i seen him make it in another one

BOBDUCK: aight

PMAC: i gotta find it

Gillyweed

First, peep Gilberts' oxygen tent and then take a gander at a blog I can only assume is dedicated to him. There is so much to say about the man who has established himself and reigns as among the lig's most enigmatic, so Ima try to lay some of it down.Gilbert has long been a hero to those fine folks over at FreeDarko, and for good reason. He is among the most interesting and complex ever to play the game.

For example: he was arrested this summer for standing beside his teammate as he was being charged with disorderly conduct. The twist: it was in the midst of a crowded Miami street.



Gilbert seems unregulated by the laws that normally permeate the game of basketball. When others zig he zags. Case in point: in the first round last year the Wizrds were inbounding with a chance to send the game to overtime. He took the ball midway between the three point line and half court and shot it.

Normally that is a moment reserved for the NBA player one might classify as slightly retarded. But with Gilly, it was a simple fact that he would take that shot. Whether or not it went in was semi-irrelevant. By even attempting such a ridiculous J, Gilbert proved that he is once again on a plane not higher than any, but seperated from all.

The shot did go in. Of course it did; what else can one expect out of Gilly?



His choice of literature (Harry Potter) reflects the fantastical world he lives in. The world where he can cover his shoes with Scotch tape. The world where it's perfectly acceptable for a man who depends on his ankles for life can wear low-top shoes and have no adverse consequences. It is a world all his own.

Mannequin Love

The Saints cast off the pall hanging over the great city today, helping (hopefully) to finally revitalize an urban area long overdue for a change in the dialogue surrounding it.

Of course, this gives Lamar the perfect time and opportunity to discuss what's been kicking around in his brain since Randy Moss and T.O. started raising hell in the NFL.

The point is this: football players are entirely products of the system in which they play. So much so that it is impossible to divest any specific player from the team he is currently playing for, or to imagine his fit in any other system. The loss of individual identity is partially due to the lack of trades in, but that lack of trades is due more to the dehumanizing aspects of the most violent sport.

If basketball is a uniquely postmodernist game, football is a modernist product of the Industrial Revolution.

Basketball contents itself with finding the partial and half-truths that dominate the court every time 10 men set their soles on it. The ins and outs of the season lend themselves to experimentation in a quest for ultimate knowledge that forever remains just beyond our grasp.



The Right-Wayers would have you believe that there is a single truth to the way the game should be played, but their ideals have been exposed as unstable as any Fundamentalist sects'. More than anything else, the "point" of every NBA season remains the same: there are interesting and unique ways to win games. Whether or not those methods translate to championships is still under debate--the Mavericks' radical collapse in the NBA Finals struck a blow to those ready to declare a New World Order.

However, football is still dominated by the conglomeration of talents to a degree disgusting to all but Larry Brown and a select cadre of 300-pound Goliaths intent on sacrificing themselves for the greater good.

The helmets play a small role in increasing this anonymity, but what makes football such a coach's medium is the sheer number and mass of those involved. The NBA lends itself more to balletic compositions simultaneously reminiscent of the hood and opera house, while the NFL replicates the singular grind of major corporate life.



It is perhaps ironic that America would choose to so embrace a sport that celebrates the goalessness of Middle Management in perpetuity, but also perfectly sensible when one considers the glorification of those same employees by the League.

Also important is the fear of progress that football espouses on a weekly basis. The individual is ignored, or perhaps demonized in the quest for an 11-players-working-as-one ideal achievable only in that sport. The Young, Black, and Fabulous mentality that so permeates the NBA is almost completely absent from the football universe save two shining stars: Randal Moss and Terrell Owens. It is no coincidence that those two see their names most often associated with “headcase,” just as Donovan McNabb was considered slightly undesirable until he toned down his free-flowing creativity in the backfield.

Those two are concerned with only one thing: imposing their stamp on whatever game they play by dominating the field in all aspects. I don’t mean dominating in the sense of big-ass-running-back-working-the-clock, but rather dominating in that ethereal sense of the word; affecting all proceedings while having a hand in none.



Neither one touches the ball on every single play they are on the field, but both strike fear into the opposing team because of their ability to rubber-stamp the game as theirs from the moment they lay hands on the pigskin to the moment they flip it to the referee, and perhaps even a little after, depending on how loquacious they find themselves on a given afternoon.

By inspiring this fear, they transcend the sport itself and begin to occupy a higher plane not dissimilar to that of MJ, Dr. J, or Kobe Bean. That higher plane is exactly what football strives to denigrate with each passing snap, beating their will into the turf as behemoths collide.

Football analysts often marvel at the supreme athleticism possessed by these two shining stars, but bemoan their woeful honesty and expression. What these talking heads fail to recognize is that the very honesty that they pour scorn on with their outmoded ideals is a uniquely American ideal: that one man may rise above the rest based on talent alone. Not pedigree, nor politeness, but sheer artistic strength and force of will may triumph over outmoded systems designed to create and maintain a rigid caste system.



If football is a feudal society, Moss and Owens have managed to separate themselves from the commoners. They’ve broken their chains, but none join them in their revolution.

Tru Warier

Before you read, peep the 2010 predictions popping over at the Worldwide Leader. I'm not saying that shit is accurate, or even that most of those involved are experts, but it does reflect a change in the fundamental way that basketball is perceived. At least for the dude that picked the Hawks.
The quandary of one Ronald Artest. On talent and competitive drive alone, he is easily a top 10 player in the NBA. His competitive drive, however, is subverts itself on an almost daily basis. Observe an incident while he was with the Chicago Bulls: while trailing at half-time, Ronald threw rocket chest passes at the wall just above his teammates' heads, all the time remaining mute.

Besides the obvious implications for "team chemistry," his actions in that one incident reflect only one thing: a burning desire. This desire has nothing to do with winning. Rather, Ronald simply seeks always to distance himself from embarrassment and humiliation.

Almost every incident of Ron's career has been a direct or indirect result of not wanting to seem like a bitch when dudes step at him. The brawl in Detroit was and is a perfect example of that. A hard foul sets off a shoving match between Ron Ron and Ben Wallace. Gets broke up, but Artest mosies over to the scorers table and lies down--making like it ain't no thang. Of all the cocky things he could have done, that could be described as the most inflammatory.

He stood up (or lied down) and told the Palace crowd that he was literally unconcerned about the entire incident. All of this was done in a weird way to save face. A lot of NBA players would have sat back down on the bench, or continued the yelling and pushing match happening at midcourt. But Artest chose to make his nonchalance public and brutally honest. He was not to be cowed or made the fool of--if anything, he made Wallace look like the one who lost his cool; the petulant child shoving at the patient dad.

Then, shit got real as fuck. Someone lobbed a bottle at Artest. How else is he going to react? He is the most "Keeping it Real" obsessed dude in the NBA. Even Iverson doesn't do like Ron, because Iverson is secure in his own public image.

Ron has always been, and will always be, obsessed with how he is perceived. It is essential to him that he be thought of first and foremost as a representer: never, never back down. That desire to keep it real usually manifests itself as a strong, almost pathological desire to win. Losing is simply not an option for Ron, the public denial of his worth is too great.

The effects of his realness are also readily apparent in his game: he is a lockdown defender, a great way to avoid humiliation on the playgrounds of NYC. Some dude thinks he's all that, and tries to break Ron off, Ron reacts by making it so the dude simply cannot break him off. His offensive game isn't flashy--he doesn't want to risk a fancy move failing him, or excessive attention being brought to something as transient as offense.

He knows how easily those same offense-first players looked like bitches on the other end of the court. He knows how to keep it real.

Trinity of Dino Thugz

Fallow no longer

It is time to break Lamar's silence. In part caused by the general uninterestingness of the Lig this summer (is Bonzi Wells dead?) and in part due to increased workload now that school has rolled around, Lamar has been relatively reticent of late.

No longer.

Consider this the first post of a new era.
AI's denial by USA basketball has to rank either as the number one or two disaster of the summer. Agent Zero's injury/cut/subsequent explosion was bad, but not of the magnitude of the Answer being denied.

Dude busted his ass for Team USA in Athens and is repayed with a curt "Fuck you" when he asked, nay, begged, to be included in Colangelo's grand experiment on the international stage.
The Answer's snub reveals all that we should have seen coming. AI is the quintessence of Young, Black, and Fabulous. Even as he begins to decay, his conrows still hold the threat of unmitigated thuggery in its most primitive form. In short, he is still the most BAMF in the Association, perhaps more than dear Ronald because of his lack of explosion.

Latent energy is more potent than that exposed; his lack of explosion (save the "practice" speech) has dumbfounded a ruling class incapable of viewing Street as anything more than dealing crack and robbing old ladies.
Colangelo's Doctrine of Dominance runs counter to everything AI represents. He is not concerned with dominating the game with shock and awe--big dunks and the like. Rather, he is content to operate outside the normal boundaries of the law. Answer ignores the niche to which he should be regulated, drawing a healthy dose of hate from the right way contingent in process.
His transcendent ignorance is exactly what Team USA needed. It was filled by an essentially Right Way cast of characters--heady folk not as concerned with their stats as the functioning of the team as a whole. Their failure on a world stage is as much of an indictment of the Right Way as Athens was.

That's right, Athens.

Olympics 2004 proved what everyone should have already known. It proved that prejudice against prototypical Young Black Males is the most misguided sentiment of all time; Melo and Lebron barely tasted the floor, while Larry was content to watch his team struggle to adapt to the Right Way that he so cherished.

His inflexibility told us volumes about him and predicted his subsequent failure with the New York Knicks with stunning accuracy.
For all of importance on the world stage, Iverson also tells us about ourselves. He shows us the true nature of the underdog, the one we should all rally behind like so many moths to a flame. He shows us that no matter how big the heart, how big the fight in the dog, there will always be someone around to tell us to hate that dog because it makes them feel insecure in their White Anglo-Saxon Protestant manhood.

Iverson is everything that the Right Way folks tell us should be, but with a casing so repellent to their blinkered gaze as to make them blind to his glory.