Most everybody would agree Lebron James is currently the best basketball player on the planet. In fact, there are many, including yours truly, that think he's the best ever. Like it or not, Lebron can do things on the basketball court that Michael Jordan never could. Yes, Lebron is bigger, taller, and stronger, but hey, it is what it is. Sure, there are also many that continue to use the "Jordan standard" as a yardstick for measuring Lebron's greatness. After all, they claim, Michael won 6 championships and Lebron has only won one to date. And that's just wrong.
In individual sports such as golf and tennis, it would be fair to compare championships won, ala Tiger Woods and his chase for Jack Nicklaus' marks, but when it comes to team sports, any such comparison should be irrelevant. No matter how fantastic any athlete is on any particular team, unless he has a pretty good "supporting cast", the chances of winning a championship are slim.
Remember Ernie Banks, the long time Chicago Cub and Hall of Famer? He never even sniffed a world series, let alone won one.
How about Dan Marino, of Miami Dolphins fame? He set a lot of NFL passing records, some of which still stand -- but he never won a Super Bowl.
Larry Bird was the best college hoopster in the country while at Indiana State, but Magic Johnson had a better supporting cast at Michigan State, so the Spartans won the national championship in their "showdown". There are others that fall into the same category. Championships in teams sports don't necessarily define an individual player's greatness.
This year, Lebron James was an obvious choice for NBA MVP, and he won the award in a landslide.
In fact, it was only one vote shy of being unanimous. Which brings me back to the dirty rotten scoundrel. That would be one Cary Washburn of the Boston Globe, who cast his ballot for NY Knicks star Carmelo Anthony instead. People were outraged. How dare Washburn do such a thing, they screamed. Is he blind, prejudiced, not paying attention, or just plain stupid, they fumed? Stephen A. Smith, the yappy little runt and apparent Spike Lee wannabe (in my opinion), that fancies himself an NBA expert, wanted Washburn called on the carpet to explain why he commited such sacrilege by not voting for Lebron.
Well, guess what? Smith (his initials being SAS, which is just about perfect) and company need to shut up. Washburn didn't just fall off a turnip truck or parachute in from another planet yesterday. He EARNED his credentials over many years to become an MVP voter. Further, he could vote for whoever he damn well felt deserving of the award, and it's not like he picked some guy from his home town team. It was Carmelo Anthony.
Question -- in the world of professional sports, who do most Bostonians hate more than anybody else? Answer -- anybody from New York. Had Washburn voted for a Celtic for MVP, perhaps it should have raised some eyebrows. But a Knick?
And let's not forget that while Lebron outpaced him in a few other personal statistical categories, Carmelo won the NBA scoring title this year. He's a fantastic player in his own right too.
So what's the big deal about the vote not being unanimous anyway? It never has been before. And even if it was this year, Lebron's trophy wouldn't have gotten any bigger, or worth any more money, assuming his contract has such an incentive clause built into it.
In the end, Washburn wasn't a dirty rotten scoundrel at all. He's just a man that knows a helluva lot more about the NBA than most of those that want to see him tarred and feathered and ran out of town.
And he cast his vote accordingly.
Good for him.
One more thing.... in case I failed to make it clear above.....
Shut up SASSY. Go hang out with Spike and be happy. You two deserve each other.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Danica Patrick and Ricky Stenhouse
They make such a cute couple. Though they come from vastly different parts, and cultures of the country, both are NASCAR drivers. Both are also technically "rookies" on NASCAR's top circuit, the Sprint Cup. Who amongst us with an ounce of gossip coursing through our veins (which is everybody) isn't fascinated by such a relationship? After all, away from the track, one of them is a big time sex symbol. Countless throngs of members of the opposite sex absolutely drool at the thought of even being in the same room with such a person. And if Danica could find a way to beef it up a little bit between her biceps -- she wouldn't be too shabby either.
Idle thought: Last time I looked, Danica was driving a Chevy on the track. With her being 31 years old, and Ricky only 25 -- would I be out of line if I said poetic justice might be served if Ford Motor Co. brought back a NASCAR racing edition of the Cougar, just for her?
Such a cute couple indeed. Until towards the end of the Talladega race. There was nothing cute about how the dynamic duo performed there. In fact, it was flat-out ugly.
With the laps winding down, Ricky Stenhouse tried to make a lane toward the outside of the track that wasn't there. He bumped another car, sending it out of control, which in turn caused a massive pile-up taking many of the remaining cars out of the race. Others were quickly wrecking every which way.
But Danica, trailing the action, wasn't about to get caught up in all that. Nosiree, Go Daddy. Just because her sweetie made a bad move that caused a few million bucks worth of damage to other cars was no reason for Danica to succumb to all that boy nonsense. No way was she going to let those pesky drivers with the Y chromosome decide to end her day. She appeared to instantly implement a fall-back plan of her own. Though her car was initially untouched by others, it looked like she decided to make a hard right into the wall -- wrecking herself. That would teach those boys.
Danica pounded the steering wheel and pouted while yet another of her mangled cars was being towed back into the garage area.
The moral of the story? A few simple letter changes to their names would get it just about right. Forget Stenhouse and Patrick. How about Henhouse and Patwreck?
Idle thought: Last time I looked, Danica was driving a Chevy on the track. With her being 31 years old, and Ricky only 25 -- would I be out of line if I said poetic justice might be served if Ford Motor Co. brought back a NASCAR racing edition of the Cougar, just for her?
Such a cute couple indeed. Until towards the end of the Talladega race. There was nothing cute about how the dynamic duo performed there. In fact, it was flat-out ugly.
With the laps winding down, Ricky Stenhouse tried to make a lane toward the outside of the track that wasn't there. He bumped another car, sending it out of control, which in turn caused a massive pile-up taking many of the remaining cars out of the race. Others were quickly wrecking every which way.
But Danica, trailing the action, wasn't about to get caught up in all that. Nosiree, Go Daddy. Just because her sweetie made a bad move that caused a few million bucks worth of damage to other cars was no reason for Danica to succumb to all that boy nonsense. No way was she going to let those pesky drivers with the Y chromosome decide to end her day. She appeared to instantly implement a fall-back plan of her own. Though her car was initially untouched by others, it looked like she decided to make a hard right into the wall -- wrecking herself. That would teach those boys.
Danica pounded the steering wheel and pouted while yet another of her mangled cars was being towed back into the garage area.
The moral of the story? A few simple letter changes to their names would get it just about right. Forget Stenhouse and Patrick. How about Henhouse and Patwreck?
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Sex ran amok in the NBA
Well OK. The Chicago Bulls defeated the Brooklyn Nets in Game 7 of their playoff series. That wasn't supposed to happen. The Bulls hadn't won a Game 7 on the road in forever. Plus they were missing 3 key players.
First and foremost was superstar guard and former league MVP Derrick Rose, who appears to be on some kind of mission to set the all-time world record for milking a sick leave. Though he was medically cleared to play weeks ago, Derrick doesn't feel like it just yet. Also forward Kirk Hinrich, who was out with a calf injury. On top of that, big man Luol Deng was out with complications from a spinal tap.
Wait a minute. Spinal tap? Dang. Deng went into labor? I didn't even know he was pregnant. Just a few days ago, he didn't "show" at all. I guess congratulations are in order and here's hoping the baby is OK and all, but who knew?
Yours truly kind of figured Jason Collins' "coming out" would change a lot of things, but this sexual freedom stuff is getting out of control if men start popping out babies. Then again, once Deng tightens back up a little bit and returns to the basketball floor, maybe he can get Rose as a nanny for the newly born mini-Dengster. It's not like Rose has anything else to do these days. But between them, if breast feeding somehow comes into the picture, I don't want to know about it.
Regardless, the Chicago Bulls next face the daunting task of taking on the reigning world champion Miami Heat. Lebron and Co. are well-rested, have everybody healthy and, last time I looked, none of them were pregnant. Plus the Heat will enjoy home court advantage.
Look for this to be a quick series. Yeah, I remember. The Bulls stopped Miami's winning streak a while back. But the only way this isn't a sweep is if secret orders come down from on high in South Beach to let the Bulls win one game in Chicago, so Miami gets another (cha-ching) home date in Game 5.
It's really not even a close call. The Bulls might not get knocked-up -- but they'll get knocked around like red-headed step-children of yore, and more importantly on the scoreboard.
First and foremost was superstar guard and former league MVP Derrick Rose, who appears to be on some kind of mission to set the all-time world record for milking a sick leave. Though he was medically cleared to play weeks ago, Derrick doesn't feel like it just yet. Also forward Kirk Hinrich, who was out with a calf injury. On top of that, big man Luol Deng was out with complications from a spinal tap.
Wait a minute. Spinal tap? Dang. Deng went into labor? I didn't even know he was pregnant. Just a few days ago, he didn't "show" at all. I guess congratulations are in order and here's hoping the baby is OK and all, but who knew?
Yours truly kind of figured Jason Collins' "coming out" would change a lot of things, but this sexual freedom stuff is getting out of control if men start popping out babies. Then again, once Deng tightens back up a little bit and returns to the basketball floor, maybe he can get Rose as a nanny for the newly born mini-Dengster. It's not like Rose has anything else to do these days. But between them, if breast feeding somehow comes into the picture, I don't want to know about it.
Regardless, the Chicago Bulls next face the daunting task of taking on the reigning world champion Miami Heat. Lebron and Co. are well-rested, have everybody healthy and, last time I looked, none of them were pregnant. Plus the Heat will enjoy home court advantage.
Look for this to be a quick series. Yeah, I remember. The Bulls stopped Miami's winning streak a while back. But the only way this isn't a sweep is if secret orders come down from on high in South Beach to let the Bulls win one game in Chicago, so Miami gets another (cha-ching) home date in Game 5.
It's really not even a close call. The Bulls might not get knocked-up -- but they'll get knocked around like red-headed step-children of yore, and more importantly on the scoreboard.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Best comeback of all time?
Now that was one pitiful showing. The NY Knicks at the Boston Celtics for Game 6 in their opening round playoff series. Boston was beyond terrible.
Only 10 points in the first quarter? Another measly 17 in the second for a halftime total of 27? Good grief, many high school girls' basketball teams put up more points than that -- in a whole lot less minutes of play.
If they weren't throwing up bricks or having their shots blocked, the Celtics were committing stupid fouls, missing lay-ups, and generally playing like they couldn't wait for their season to end. Noted Boston shooter Paul Pierce was 2 for 20. At one point they had more turnovers (18) than field goals (15). Needless to say, that's bad basketball at the NBA level.
Beleaguered Boston head coach Doc Rivers looked like he needed one -- as in a head doctor -- a shrink. If Rivers had any hair to pull out, surely he would have done so.
Though the Knicks weren't exactly lighting it up themselves, midway through the 4th quarter the Celtics found themselves behind by a whopping 26 points. The fat lady in Beantown was ready to belt out her tune.
Then something very strange happened. The Celtics scored a few baskets. Then a couple more. The all but dead crowd came roaring back to life. Next thing ya know, Boston had gone on a 20-0 run. The Knicks looked like they were crumbling faster than the Twin Towers in their own city a few years ago. Holy comebacks, Batman, could the oldest team in the NBA actually pull off such a miracle on hardwood to extend the series to a Game 7?
Of course not. Are you nuts? Nobody comes back from 26 points down midway through the 4th quarter. The Celtics are history -- outta here.
But it was interesting there for a few minutes....
Only 10 points in the first quarter? Another measly 17 in the second for a halftime total of 27? Good grief, many high school girls' basketball teams put up more points than that -- in a whole lot less minutes of play.
If they weren't throwing up bricks or having their shots blocked, the Celtics were committing stupid fouls, missing lay-ups, and generally playing like they couldn't wait for their season to end. Noted Boston shooter Paul Pierce was 2 for 20. At one point they had more turnovers (18) than field goals (15). Needless to say, that's bad basketball at the NBA level.
Beleaguered Boston head coach Doc Rivers looked like he needed one -- as in a head doctor -- a shrink. If Rivers had any hair to pull out, surely he would have done so.
Though the Knicks weren't exactly lighting it up themselves, midway through the 4th quarter the Celtics found themselves behind by a whopping 26 points. The fat lady in Beantown was ready to belt out her tune.
Then something very strange happened. The Celtics scored a few baskets. Then a couple more. The all but dead crowd came roaring back to life. Next thing ya know, Boston had gone on a 20-0 run. The Knicks looked like they were crumbling faster than the Twin Towers in their own city a few years ago. Holy comebacks, Batman, could the oldest team in the NBA actually pull off such a miracle on hardwood to extend the series to a Game 7?
Of course not. Are you nuts? Nobody comes back from 26 points down midway through the 4th quarter. The Celtics are history -- outta here.
But it was interesting there for a few minutes....
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Notable quotes of the day
Best quote of the day. "The greatest thing about being famous is all the free crap you get". Ya gotta love Sir Charles Barkley. He's one of the few that can and will say it like it is -- and get away with it.
Worst quote of the day. "There's no such thing as a make-up call". This during the Denver Nuggets-Golden State Warriors game, after the refs had botched a call, then quickly rebotched another one the other way to even things out. Ya gotta hate those play-by-play announcers that are too spineless to say out loud what is obvious to everybody else watching the game.
Best comparison of the day. Seeing as how the famous Martha Stewart and NBA player Jason Collins both recently made news splashes regarding their, ahem, personal preferences -- Jay Leno wondering which one would attract more male suitors in the near future.
Worst idea I've seen in a long time. Some fine chap named Alejandro Agag, who is a co-owner of a football (soccer) team in jolly old England, wants to introduce what he thinks will be the next world-wide racing craze. This is Formula E, as in electric. Similar to Indy cars, they're battery powered. The good things are -- they can go from 0 to 60 in 2.6 seconds -- quicker than a NASCAR ride, and have a top speed of 170 MPH. Plus, no noise pollution or those pesky exhaust emissions. The bad things are going from 0 to 60 is irrelevant, 170 isn't going to impress anybody, and the batteries are only good for 25 minutes. Then the drivers have to change cars. Well, good luck selling that in America, Alex. We dumb-ass American race fans just so happen to like cars that go a lot faster, make a lot of noise, and nothing like the smell of burning tires/exhaust fumes from high octane gasoline/alcohol/ nitro methane gets our juices going more. Unless there's a high speed wreck, with cars getting airborne and crashing every which way, of course. And we've come to expect pit stops that last maybe 12 seconds -- not 10-15 minutes while some E car driver gets extracted from his car and reinserted into another one. Maybe he better stick to soccer across the pond. Surely he jests. Then again, perhaps the joke's on us. After all, his name is "A-gag", right? Those English blokes can be a tricky sort sometimes.
Best idea I've had in a long time. Stopping this ridiculous blog post right here -- before it gets even dumber than it's already been.
Worst quote of the day. "There's no such thing as a make-up call". This during the Denver Nuggets-Golden State Warriors game, after the refs had botched a call, then quickly rebotched another one the other way to even things out. Ya gotta hate those play-by-play announcers that are too spineless to say out loud what is obvious to everybody else watching the game.
Best comparison of the day. Seeing as how the famous Martha Stewart and NBA player Jason Collins both recently made news splashes regarding their, ahem, personal preferences -- Jay Leno wondering which one would attract more male suitors in the near future.
Worst idea I've seen in a long time. Some fine chap named Alejandro Agag, who is a co-owner of a football (soccer) team in jolly old England, wants to introduce what he thinks will be the next world-wide racing craze. This is Formula E, as in electric. Similar to Indy cars, they're battery powered. The good things are -- they can go from 0 to 60 in 2.6 seconds -- quicker than a NASCAR ride, and have a top speed of 170 MPH. Plus, no noise pollution or those pesky exhaust emissions. The bad things are going from 0 to 60 is irrelevant, 170 isn't going to impress anybody, and the batteries are only good for 25 minutes. Then the drivers have to change cars. Well, good luck selling that in America, Alex. We dumb-ass American race fans just so happen to like cars that go a lot faster, make a lot of noise, and nothing like the smell of burning tires/exhaust fumes from high octane gasoline/alcohol/ nitro methane gets our juices going more. Unless there's a high speed wreck, with cars getting airborne and crashing every which way, of course. And we've come to expect pit stops that last maybe 12 seconds -- not 10-15 minutes while some E car driver gets extracted from his car and reinserted into another one. Maybe he better stick to soccer across the pond. Surely he jests. Then again, perhaps the joke's on us. After all, his name is "A-gag", right? Those English blokes can be a tricky sort sometimes.
Best idea I've had in a long time. Stopping this ridiculous blog post right here -- before it gets even dumber than it's already been.
The new Detroit Pistons coach
Forget Joe Dumars, I'll send my resume straight to the big man himself -- Tom Gores. It will read as follows:
Hey Tom
Now that you're the head dude of the Palace, Pistons, and all that, I wanted to run a couple things by ya, bro. First, obviously you didn't know what the hell were getting into with the Pissed-ons. It appears that dumb heiress broad Karen Davidson was smarter than you thought. How else to explain her selling you a load of goods like that team? No prob, my brother, everybody screws up once in a while.
But you need a coach. I can help you out there. My qualifications? None. Zero. Nada. I wouldn't have a clue what to do with that rag-tag bunch. But hey, neither did Lawrence Frank, or the guy before him, and the guy before him. It doesn't even matter. Those clowns aren't going anywhere any year soon. If you're half as smart as your PR department and the local media says you are -- you already know that.
I still can't figure out why you dumped Frank, frankly. Paying a dude 3.7 million large for doing nothing doesn't sound like the best of plans to me -- especially when God himself couldn't have got that team into the playoffs this year.
But tell ya what, TG. I'll cut you some slack. I'll take the job for a measly 2 mil a year. That's a bargain by today's NBA coaching standards. Better yet, seeing as how you're originally from the hood, I'll go you one better.
Get rid of that electric company and change the hill back to Pine Knob, along with letting folks bring in their own coolers again so they can party like in the old days -- and I'll take over that sad-sack bunch at 2, or is it 3? Chumpionship Dr. at half the price. A paltry 1 million a year. Where you gonna beat a deal like that, dude? Hell, you probably spend more than that on your hair.
Can I whip the Pistons into championship contenders in a year or two? Of course not. Are you nuts? But nobody else is going to do it either, and they'll want a lot more money.
Besides, some of those "promotions" your people have been advertising lately are really lame. No wonder you barely fill half the seats. There's a better way. I know this girl who's tapped into a network of, shall we say "exotic dancers". Get her on board, and her people will put on a show that will pack every seat in the house. The customers wouldn't care how bad the team was on the floor. Let those girls roam the aisles, and I guarantee you'd never see an empty seat again. Of course, no kids would be allowed, and you might have some 'splainin to do to the league office, but hey, you've got people that can handle such minor details.
So let's do it this way. I'll give you 2 weeks to think it over. The siren song of another riding season is already calling out to me and my Harley. If you expect me to give that up, I need a commitment from you in short order. Once I get caught up with the wind in my face again..... well, don't say I didn't give you a chance. Snooze, ya lose.
Like you, I'm a little picky about who I give my phone number out to. When you want to contact me, call sports editor Jeff Kuehn at the Oakland Press. You'll quickly find out he's the REAL head dude/mover and shaker when it comes to sports in this town -- and he knows how to get in touch with me. No offense, but yours truly is a little skeptical when you California folks come back to Michigan with a bazillion dollars and start throwing your financial weight around. But in time, if you convince me you're a trustworthy and reliable kind of guy that knows when to keep him mouth shut -- I'll give you a phone number that will reach me personally. However, you have to prove yourself in a big way before you earn THAT status. Besides, Jeff has better things to do than relay your messages.
It's up to you. Personally, I couldn't care less. I've got better things to do than fly all over the country babysitting a gang of tall skinny dudes that think they can play basketball. But in the neighborly spirit of Michiganders, I'm willing to suck it up and give you a hand in your time of need. Just trying to help out.
Hope to hear from you soon. Don't mess around, man. The weather's looking good and the sweet song of the pipes is getting louder -- and harder to fight off.
Respectfully
John Leach
Hey Tom
Now that you're the head dude of the Palace, Pistons, and all that, I wanted to run a couple things by ya, bro. First, obviously you didn't know what the hell were getting into with the Pissed-ons. It appears that dumb heiress broad Karen Davidson was smarter than you thought. How else to explain her selling you a load of goods like that team? No prob, my brother, everybody screws up once in a while.
But you need a coach. I can help you out there. My qualifications? None. Zero. Nada. I wouldn't have a clue what to do with that rag-tag bunch. But hey, neither did Lawrence Frank, or the guy before him, and the guy before him. It doesn't even matter. Those clowns aren't going anywhere any year soon. If you're half as smart as your PR department and the local media says you are -- you already know that.
I still can't figure out why you dumped Frank, frankly. Paying a dude 3.7 million large for doing nothing doesn't sound like the best of plans to me -- especially when God himself couldn't have got that team into the playoffs this year.
But tell ya what, TG. I'll cut you some slack. I'll take the job for a measly 2 mil a year. That's a bargain by today's NBA coaching standards. Better yet, seeing as how you're originally from the hood, I'll go you one better.
Get rid of that electric company and change the hill back to Pine Knob, along with letting folks bring in their own coolers again so they can party like in the old days -- and I'll take over that sad-sack bunch at 2, or is it 3? Chumpionship Dr. at half the price. A paltry 1 million a year. Where you gonna beat a deal like that, dude? Hell, you probably spend more than that on your hair.
Can I whip the Pistons into championship contenders in a year or two? Of course not. Are you nuts? But nobody else is going to do it either, and they'll want a lot more money.
Besides, some of those "promotions" your people have been advertising lately are really lame. No wonder you barely fill half the seats. There's a better way. I know this girl who's tapped into a network of, shall we say "exotic dancers". Get her on board, and her people will put on a show that will pack every seat in the house. The customers wouldn't care how bad the team was on the floor. Let those girls roam the aisles, and I guarantee you'd never see an empty seat again. Of course, no kids would be allowed, and you might have some 'splainin to do to the league office, but hey, you've got people that can handle such minor details.
So let's do it this way. I'll give you 2 weeks to think it over. The siren song of another riding season is already calling out to me and my Harley. If you expect me to give that up, I need a commitment from you in short order. Once I get caught up with the wind in my face again..... well, don't say I didn't give you a chance. Snooze, ya lose.
Like you, I'm a little picky about who I give my phone number out to. When you want to contact me, call sports editor Jeff Kuehn at the Oakland Press. You'll quickly find out he's the REAL head dude/mover and shaker when it comes to sports in this town -- and he knows how to get in touch with me. No offense, but yours truly is a little skeptical when you California folks come back to Michigan with a bazillion dollars and start throwing your financial weight around. But in time, if you convince me you're a trustworthy and reliable kind of guy that knows when to keep him mouth shut -- I'll give you a phone number that will reach me personally. However, you have to prove yourself in a big way before you earn THAT status. Besides, Jeff has better things to do than relay your messages.
It's up to you. Personally, I couldn't care less. I've got better things to do than fly all over the country babysitting a gang of tall skinny dudes that think they can play basketball. But in the neighborly spirit of Michiganders, I'm willing to suck it up and give you a hand in your time of need. Just trying to help out.
Hope to hear from you soon. Don't mess around, man. The weather's looking good and the sweet song of the pipes is getting louder -- and harder to fight off.
Respectfully
John Leach
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
The topsy-turvy NBA playoffs
No NBA team has ever overcome a 3-0 deficit to win a playoff series. But this year might be the first. In fact, it could happen a couple different ways. The Okla City Thunder took a 3-0 lead on the Houston Rockets, only to see them storm back and win the next two, the last being in Okla City. Now they go to Houston for Game 6. If the Rockets win at home to force a game 7, entirely possible, if not likely, who knows? Since the freak season ending knee injury to Okla City superstar Russell Westbrook, the Thunder don't seem to have very much, well, thunder. Their chances of returning to the NBA Finals appear bleak, at best.
In the east, the NY Knicks ran out to a 3-0 advantage over the Boston Celtics, and that scenario is playing out much the same as the one above. Boston won the next two, the last in Madison Square Garden, and now they go back to Beantown for Game 6. For the most part, Boston is an old team, and without the services of their own superstar guard Rajon Rondo, but they seem to have acquired a little fire in their bellies lately. Plus, the Knicks look like their wheels are falling off. They have 4 guys standing around waiting for Carmelo Anthony to do something. That's not going to get it done. That series could easily go to a Game 7 and who knows situation as well.
It wasn't a 3-0 situation -- merely 2-0, but most thought the LA Clippers, the new best team in La-La land, would dispatch the Memphis Grizzlies. Then the Grizz came back to win 3 in a row. The Clips now have to go to Memphis and win to just survive.
Idle thought -- I wonder if after such high expectations, if the Clips gets bounced in the first round -- will the TV folks still be showing those Chris/Cliff Paul commercials every 10 minutes -- or will they disappear?
In the meanwhile, the current odds-on favorites to reach the Finals -- namely the Miami Heat and San Antonio Spurs -- swept their series' and are getting a rest, while they await their next opponents.
Also getting a rest are the Detroit Pistons. A long one. After yet another miserable season, they await the draft. Even if everything goes right for them, no given by any means, they're likely at least 2-3 years away from being serious contenders. Somehow GM Joe Dumars escaped the axe this year, but former head coach Lawrence Frank did not. His head rolled. So not only are the Pistons in the market for talent, but also for a new head coach.
Yours truly is thinking about applying for that job.
More on that next time.
In the east, the NY Knicks ran out to a 3-0 advantage over the Boston Celtics, and that scenario is playing out much the same as the one above. Boston won the next two, the last in Madison Square Garden, and now they go back to Beantown for Game 6. For the most part, Boston is an old team, and without the services of their own superstar guard Rajon Rondo, but they seem to have acquired a little fire in their bellies lately. Plus, the Knicks look like their wheels are falling off. They have 4 guys standing around waiting for Carmelo Anthony to do something. That's not going to get it done. That series could easily go to a Game 7 and who knows situation as well.
It wasn't a 3-0 situation -- merely 2-0, but most thought the LA Clippers, the new best team in La-La land, would dispatch the Memphis Grizzlies. Then the Grizz came back to win 3 in a row. The Clips now have to go to Memphis and win to just survive.
Idle thought -- I wonder if after such high expectations, if the Clips gets bounced in the first round -- will the TV folks still be showing those Chris/Cliff Paul commercials every 10 minutes -- or will they disappear?
In the meanwhile, the current odds-on favorites to reach the Finals -- namely the Miami Heat and San Antonio Spurs -- swept their series' and are getting a rest, while they await their next opponents.
Also getting a rest are the Detroit Pistons. A long one. After yet another miserable season, they await the draft. Even if everything goes right for them, no given by any means, they're likely at least 2-3 years away from being serious contenders. Somehow GM Joe Dumars escaped the axe this year, but former head coach Lawrence Frank did not. His head rolled. So not only are the Pistons in the market for talent, but also for a new head coach.
Yours truly is thinking about applying for that job.
More on that next time.
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