The Arrogant Scientist

Bringing in 2010 with the re-re-re-resurrection of FU. My first post of the new year will be dedicated to my favorite team—in particular, the coach of that team and what I believe to be his thinking behind some of the roster moves he's made. New year, same random pictures...

Mike D'Antoni, originator of the "Seven Seconds or Less (SSOL)" system that added a 21st-century twist to the fast-paced Basketball of a generation ago, has tried to implement his philosophy with my New York Knicks. But there are a few differences between the Suns' teams that initially ran and the mob that calls Madison Square Garden home. There's no versatile help defender in NYC like Marion; nor a seven-foot jar of nitrous oxide that Amar'e was pre-microfracture. Instead, there are much more Quentin Richardsons—perimeter forwards that float 25 feet from the basket and hoist shots from distance like Antoine Walker did. This is actually a wrinkle D'Antoni didn't have in Phoenix, as there are multiple Knicks that are capable of hitting four threes a game. But the single-most important piece missing from true actualization is something D'Antoni himself refuses to change. And it's been visible in his decisions after leaving Phoenix.

First, let's examine the Suns back then. The signing of Steve Nash gave D'Antoni the ability to perfectly project his genius onto the floor. With Nash's immense IQ and vision, there was a conductor who knew exactly how and where his teammates would be most effective; something previous point guard, Stephon Marbury, either couldn't do or wouldn't do. As with any new idea, it has to breed success. Sixty-two wins in the SSOL's first year garnered an MVP for Nash, and established the hyper-kinetic offense's credibility. The supporting cast changed. Diaw, Bell, Thomas—all names that found oasis in The Desert. Nash was that literal steady hand. With the ball as that bouncing one in sing-alongs, he dribbled and assisted like leading a Tchaikovsky symphony; creating measures of chords at clips of 105-plus points per game.

So what does that extended metaphor have to do with D'Antoni? Well, it seems that he's being arrogant and refuses to draft or sign that life-altering point guard again. For instance, he turned down coaching the Bulls, even though Derrick Rose seems to be the thoroughbred built for SSOL. Then, in New York, he chooses to draft Jordan Hill over the young buck Brandon Jennings. Even drafting Ty Lawson, to a lesser degree, is that lead guard with speed in constant fast forward and championship-tested in college. Instead, D'Antoni entrusted the reigns to Chris Duhon—a structured, rigid guard that can't create for himself or others. He'd rather be stubborn that his system will win out as opposed to investing in this recent crop of 1-guards. Granted, players like Curry, Flynn, Evans, and even Rubio were off the board by the time the Knicks were on the clock; but the selection of Hill proved that D'Antoni believed finding the next Amar'e was easier than cultivating a newer Nash.

The final piece of evidence that supports my theory is the inexplicable benching of Nate Robinson. He's the one player on the Knicks with the improvisation in his Basketball soul, and the natural one-on-one scoring skills. For reasons between him and the Most High, D'Antoni sat Robinson for 14 consecutive games; and the Knicks did play well without him. In the short term, it looked like a wise decision. But the offense suffered as teams adjusted to the lack of dribble penetration. Then, Nate was released, and responded with 40 points in an overtime win on the road against fledgling elite Eastern power Atlanta. Like Napoleon Bonaparte with a jump shot, he shredded the Hawks in their own gym as if he hadn't had game action in a month. D'Antoni couldn't help but swallow his pride; yet I don't see Nate being the maestro in The Garden.

It could all be coincidence. Maybe this is another chemical equation in the SSOL formula. But passing on many of the revolutionary point guards has proven in today's NBA to set back franchises a few years. Just ask those Atlanta Hawks. He's probably forgotten more Basketball than I remember, so I'm pretty sure he knows what he's doing. For the sake of my favorite team, I hope so.

Or maybe it's all for Lebron.



Peace.

Weeks Four & Five: A Dream Deferred

It was to be the Greatest FU Post Never Written. But for the fourth (and fifth) installment of the FU's version of "Week In Review," I decided to compose the post that would have been had dreams come true. Peep after the random picture...

Rumors of my all-time favorite player coming to my favorite team stirred my Basketball Soul in a way a Carmelo move off his jab step could never do. And even with his skills visibly diminishing—except, it seems, to him—Iverson to the Knicks would have literally been the Best of My Worlds. Each time I tuned into an MSG broadcast, my fandom would have been in perfect harmony. I know he isn't at the height of his powers, but his ginsu-style crossover is still fatal. He probably would have donned his #3, and fans would immediately hope he purged any remaining evils that haunted Coney Island's Finest. He could have provided the go-to scoring a young Knicks team lacks; as well as a buzz among Knicks Nation.

But it's not about any of that. It's about me. Those two ideals have been halted from fusing together. But even with that, the realist in me can't ignore the other side to this story—the side I somewhat acknowledged in a previous Iverson post. As much as I would have enjoyed seeing Iverson in New York, it would have always been bittersweet due to the circumstances his signing would have been under. This is where Iverson's career has led him. Labeled as a malcontent, and an unusable gun. He's the anti-Bob McAdoo that can't find employment; even with franchises looking for hope like the Grizzlies and Knicks. It's always tough to see a once-great struggle with near-mediocrity. But when it's someone that molded your very philosophy of the sport, that sympathy is magnified infinitely. It's like watching my ideals embark on a never ending quest for someone to accept them as truth. Iverson is longing for that belief fans of his held onto when his diminutive frame felled giants with reckless abandon. It doesn't look like it exists anymore.

Perhaps, it is for the best that my favorite player did not join my favorite team. Even if the Answer had found his solution at Madison Square Garden, he would still look out of sorts in that white, blue, and orange. It would have jibed with my Basketball Soul like a dope Jazzanova record. There would have been a bunch of elements going on; but it would have worked somehow. However, seeing him attempt to rescue the Knicks from futility would have been both heroic and pathetic. Could he have done it? Maybe. But to me, it probably isn't worth risking slightly tarnishing his Hall Of Fame legacy for a franchise waiting on the future. Still, it was nice to dream; if only for a moment.



Peace.

Real Recognize Real: Money Mike's Knicks' Season Preview

The NBA tips off very soon; and I figured it was time to request help to write the season preview of my beloved Knicks. I enlisted my good friend and fellow superpower, "Money" Mike Benjamin to give a New Yorker's respective on the team that calls MSG home. Peep his thoughts after the random picture...

Fearless Forecaster: Knicks’ Preview 2009

When I close my eyes and think about the 2009 New York Knicks, my mind instantaneously flashes forward to the summer of 2010. You can’t blame me for this. It’s natural. For 95% of the Knick fan base, the key to our basketball ascendance rests squarely in the palms of one Joseph Donald Walsh Jr. and the (fading?) mythos of the World’s Most Famous Arena. Our legitimacy in the eyes of the basketball conglomerate depends on this. We’ve been brainwashed to think and speak in the future perfect tense.

So, why should YOU care about the New York Knicks of 2009? Why even bother to research the disparaging backgrounds of these symbiotic placeholders (Larry Hughes, Darko Milicic)? Should we even care to cheer these athletic mercenaries employed to coerce the distant superstar?

Yes, we should. We must motivate the Jared and Eddy, the two players impeding our efforts to scoop two megalomaniacs in the great tussle in 2010. We must embrace the youth movement, the only pieces of our disjointed puzzle alluring to the potential free agents of the next decade. I just don’t see Lebron riding straightway to N.Y. on his steed if our Knicks team remains pathetic, no matter how legendary the setting. (Unless we witness a swipe akin to the great steal of Wayne Gretsky by the Los Angeles Kings, which would indelibly lead to jeers of “Collusion!”)

Cheering for this impotent franchise doesn’t have to be a boring exercise, however. Within the first four weeks, a symphony of Knicks fans will be singing the praises of the lyrically notable Toney Douglas. Douglas, with his explosiveness and inventiveness similar to the reckless abandon of Nate Robinson, will sadly become the cheaper alternative to our Slam Dunk King when the free agent fracas ensues. David will shift from underrated, to overrated, to properly rated by season’s end, and probably receive a ransom not unlike a certain burgeoning forward (LaMarcus Aldridge) directly following our successful signing of Lebron, Wade, or some other member of the future NBA generation. And if the overrated Knicks management (yes, I said it…he hasn’t done jack since hiring Mike DiAntoni) can flip one of our uglier pieces of furniture for a state-of-the-art masterpiece (a first-round 2010 draft pick), we’ll be cheering simultaneously for John Wall AND the aforementioned 2010 piece de jour.

I’m penciling 60-22 as our record with my heart, but 33-49 with my brain. An astoundingly unimpressive amount of wins for an insignificant cast of characters. We’ll have much to cheer about, that’s for sure. Even if most of it is surrounding the events that will take place on July 1, 2010.

246 days, 14 hours, 57 minutes…and counting.

Mike Benjamin, II

Who Got The Vibe? It's The Tribe, Yall

(Note: Another title for my hip-hop heads, based on ESPN's John Anderson calling the Knicks, "The Quest." For more, go here. Shout out to Q-Tip, Phife, and Ali Shaheed. To the post...)

The playoffs are set to begin this weekend; so that means my Knicks' season is over. I had refrained on writing at length about them all year, but I feel I must do at the end. If you've been reading for awhile, you know this won't be one of those typical season wrap-up posts; with topics like, "The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly." Also, I won't do the typical Knicks fan-type thing and just find creative ways to say, "Wait 'til 2010!" in 500+ words. But, I may say something about this season that may shock you. It has nothing to do with Chris Duhon's success in the SSOL system; or how I'm begging they keep Al Harrington. It's that Mike D'Antoni is a genius, and it extends beyond the fastbreak offense.

More than bringing a bit of credibility to a once-proud franchise, he brought hope. Yes, hope. Whenever a new coach (I'm looking at you, Terry Porter), gets hired, the fanbase is all over him if the team doesn't produce immediate results. Yet, you don't hear too many Knicks fans detracting the Knicks team. Maybe that has a lot to do with where the team was; but this year's bunch is so much more aesthetically pleasing. They're not the 05-06 Suns, but they picked up their choreography by looking through the window. If anything, he proved that SSOL can work with pretty much anyone, as long as there are "point guards" that can get to the basket, about seven people that shoot threes, and David Lee. Like my man "Money" Mike Benjamin would say, SSOL is, "so easy a Blue Devil can do it."

But let's jump back to that "hope" aspect. Few people talk about just how horrific an experience it was to watch the Knicks of the previous three seasons. You won't find too many people talking about the past, word to Mark McGwire. Instead, you get those 16 or 17 thousand people that look to the Free Agent Spec-tac-u-lar next offseason, knowing that the D'Antoni/Walsh tandem will bring forth riches, notably a chalk-clapping titan. D'Antoni's ragtag Knicks have even made folks forget about Danilo, who most had given up for as a lost cause the day he was drafted. They figured he wasn't built for MSG, and the Big Apple would take a bite out of him. Can he play? I guess. But the consensus is that selecting Gallinari was a favor Mike D did for "El Gallo's" dad.

So, what Mike D did at MSG was a mini-miracle. He made New York fans forget about "Coney Island's Finest" and be able to make jokes about Zeke instead of taking the brunt of them. He also made these hardcore fans okay with waiting through rough times and actually wait for long-term results. Kudos, to you, sir. Kudos. Can't wait 'til 2010.

Peace.

FU Guest Analysis: Money Mike on Starbury

To start off March, we’re treated with Fundamentally UnSound’s first Guest Post. You may remember a couple posts by my good friend Jeff Scott, but since he is allegedly a contributor to this site, those don’t count as “Guest” posts. No matter. Today’s post is from Michael “Money Mike (Copyright: Me...don't take that nickname as your own)” Benjamin, student writer for HU’s The Hilltop, and author of the blog, “Points Off Turnovers.” He’s the originator of the "Mo' Better Hoops" form/function series I link to in conjunction with my yin/yang series, and the other young superpower that relishes in analyzing Basketball’s underlying ideas as much as I do. And he can help you with life stuff, too. I’d let you readers in on some of the joint projects we have in store for the Realm of Basketball and its observers, but why spoil the surprise? Anyway, check out his analysis of Stephon Marbury. We’re both Knicks fans (You have about 15 months to laugh at that. In 2010, the tables will turn.), but he’s actually from The Big Apple (Queens); and as you will read, Marbury means something a little different to him than he does to me. Peep after the random pic…

Starbury’s Renaissance

Stephon Marbury, you will be missed.

To me, Marbury’s like the quirky uncle that everyone’s got in their family. He’s the guy in your family that always shows up to Thanksgiving dinner late, has a new girlfriend every time you see him, owns a ridiculously nice set of threads, favors an unusual set of role models, and probably knows a few guys who have had their share of run-ins with the law (or has had his own problems). Quoting Nick, the narrator of The Great Gatsby, I suggest that this uncle had such “an acute limited excellence” that everything afterward “savors of anticlimax”.

But no matter what chaos ensues with this guy, you can’t help but love him. Why? Because he’s a part of your family. He’s always bringing something to the table. He’s part of what makes your family unique.

Obviously, I’m over-generalizing, but you get the point.

To New York basketball heads, Stephon Marbury is that uncle.

You see, unlike the rest of the media, I don’t consider Stephon Marbury crazy. Sure, Stephon Marbury’s has had instances of peculiar behavior, but who hasn’t? Our world is full of head cases and eccentric personalities. But Marbury is more than that. He’s a talented basketball player, a product of media hype and his Brooklyn upbringing, and is New York City’s prodigal son.

I've witnessed Marbury's meteoric rise to stardom from the courts of Lincoln High. Honestly, we were all witnesses. His life even inspired one of the greatest basketball books of the last decade—Darcy Frey's The Last Shot.

I even saw the sadness appear on Marbury’s normally sunny disposition in the games following his father’s untimely death. Death is an inherent truth that affects us all regardless of fame and class status.

I hate how the general media has conveniently forgotten about the positive contributions that Stephon Marbury has made to American society. Seeing the rampant violence that plagued our inner cities due to the infectious disease caused by the corporate marketing of Nike’s Air Jordans, Starbury made a responsible fiscal decision to step in and try to rectify the situation. While most athletes squander their earnings on senseless goods and services, Starbury teamed with Steve and Barry’s to produce an affordable sneaker for America’s youth.

I don’t believe Marbury’s new franchise family will ever understand. Since Marbury’s in the last year of his contract, Boston Celtic fans know that he’s just passing through, so they’ll shower him with empty praise. Heck, Marbury’s being used up worse than Bridget Moynahan. In the big scheme of things, it’s probably for the best. We don’t need Celtics fans later spewing racial epithets onto our misunderstood hero. The city of Boston’s got a serious history of racial hate than most people don’t realize.

I don’t think they’ll ever fully embrace Starbury.

Since the buyout, I’ve experienced the entire stream of emotions in regards to our city’s prodigal son. Yeah, I’ve gone through my five stages of grief. I denied the fact that Starbury would don the green and white Celtics’ uniform, even though their city kept openly flirting with our much maligned superstar. I was angry when Knicks management refused to allow Starbury to participate in team activities, finally conceding that perhaps Marbury is too turbulent a personality for our young players. I was depressed after I first read of Marbury’s agreed buyout, finally realizing that he would never again wear his city’s famed colors.

Now, after seeing Stephon Marbury succeed in his first game in our northern rival’s city, I’m come to accept the fact that he’s gone. I’ll always root for Marbury because in a weird, roundabout way, Marbury represents me.

As a New Yorker, Marbury is me.

Thinking of a Master Plan...

There were some big moves in the Big Apple yesterday. I'm still going to hold back on a progress report for the Knicks and do a combo post with The Throwback Kid over at Points Off Turnovers; but the trades this afternoon did merit some sort of mention.

Forgive me if I'm not celebrating these moves.  I did that before, and had to quickly repent.  I immediately understood that Donnie Walsh is positioning the team to be able to financially go after a certain King along with a certain guy in Toronto.  After talking with my sports braintrust, I was reminded of a previous fact theory about Commissioner David Stern and his real vision for the NBA.  More after the random picture...

Commissioner Stern knows that his league, though globally popular now, will grow further domestically when all the teams in the big markets are successful.  Those big markets are L.A., Chicago, Boston, and New York.  As you hoop fans know, L.A. and Boston met in the Finals last year.  Then, Chicago was blessed with the #1 pick and Derrick Rose.  As I stated in that previous post that I know hope you clicked on, the reason why he didn't fix the Draft Lottery for the Knicks again is because the team was in shambles.  Instead, seeing the bevy of free agent talent in the 2010 offseason, he recognized that the Knicks would be able to rebuild that way.

An idea that arose among my braintrust is that David Stern, through the power of connections like a Mob boss, somehow authorized this from a distance.  At first, I doubted it.  Then, I remembered that he is about the money.  Using his incredible marketing genius, he devised a way to help the Knicks get going in the right direction.  Since there's more than just, "sweat inside his hand," he can get the ball rolling on situations he would like to have happen in his league.  Maybe he didn't force Warriors GM Chris Mullin and Clippers GM/Head Coach Mike Dunleavy to make offers they couldn't refuse, but he knew who Donnie Walsh should call in order to get those huge salaries off the books.

As far as my excitement goes, I won't be smiling when I talk about the Knicks until I see Lebron and Chris Bosh holding up their jerseys like Tim Thomas, Cuttino Mobley, and Al Harrington did the other day.  Which reminds me, Quentin Richardson and Nate Robinson, I think you need to vacate those jersey numbers as soon as possible.  Get used to #'s 25 and 8 respectively.  And Steph, just take whatever they give you.  Please?

Peace.

Better Know An NBA Franchise: New York Knicks

I was saving my...*sigh*...favorite NBA team for last, but I don't know if I'll get through all 30 teams, and they're on the short list of franchises I want all of you to know better. Since this is Anti-[Packers Jets QB #4] Week, I figured I'd channel my utter disdain for the Wranglers spokesman into something that actually matters to me, even though I'm not quite over that Destiney thing: The New York Knickerbockers. Oh look, there's [Jets QB #4] throwing passes in a t-shirt and cargo shorts! Drool...drool. I think Aaron Rodgers should be on the "Eff Grandad" remix with the Lethal Interjection Crew.

Anyway, the Knicks, by divine intervention, are still an important part of my sports being. My loyalty for them began when I reached the to of SEGA Genesis' NBA Jam plateau (for the record, I'm still undefeated in that game). That was going on fourteen years ago, and the Knicks are still my favorite team through all their well-documented blunders. I've already written letters to/about them, and even threatened to file for fan divorce. This will be as objective and impartial as possible. Meaning, it won't be objective and it will be partial...
Players: Where do I begin oh this roster? Least Valuable Player Stephon Marbury has a lesser grip on his life than his sneakers have on the floor. Zach Randolph and Eddy Curry appear to be rigorously training to surpass Joey Chestnut. Nate "Mr. July" Robinson's biggest accomplishment is having his Summer League jersey retired...and then taken down by maintenance two hours later. Apparently, Quentin Richardson still hasn't gotten over Brandy. Add an Italian kid (Happy Birthday!) that got the draft hookup because he knows the coach, and has absolutely no idea what's in store for him, and this team fails Chemistry class with flying blue-and-orange colors. The only player I respect is Jamal Crawford. Hopefully, young players like Wilson Chandler and Mardy Collins will see more playing time; just because it can't get much worse than it already is with them on the floor.

Coaching/Front Office: This brings me to those in charge of fixing this Broadway mess. The Knicks are such bad shape that David Stern couldn't even fix the Draft Lottery for them again, like he did for Chicago this year and Seattle/Oklahoma City in '07, but don't tell anybody. Isiah Thomas has literally been paid to stay away from the team, and the new tandem of GM Donnie Walsh and Head Coach Mike D'Antoni look to get this franchise back to relevance. D'Antoni wants to run; but Eddy and Zach want to eat. We'll see how much patience he has with them this season. Also, we'll see how long it takes for Steph to be traded; but given his ability/salary, no one wants him.

Projection: With D'Antoni as coach, defense will definitely be non-existent; even moreso than it was in recent years. One would like to believe that they'll be better on offense, but that requires cohesiveness; and we know that they're definitely lacking in that department. Part of me wants to believe that not having Isiah nearby means instant improvement, but I just don't see it happening. The turnaround will be in process; but I don't know how far ahead of schedule Donnie Walsh's plan will be. Hopefully, they'll be in good enough shape to be able to make a play for Lebron in 2010, barring he doesn't go overseas.

Bonus: There aren't any good and interesting tidbits of information to share with you about the Knicks. Everyone knows Eddy likes cheeseburgers, while Zach is more of a steakums man. So I'll leave you with this link to a Stephon Marbury interview that substantiates my notion that he's completely lost his mind. I and the six remaining Knicks fans (Spike Lee and Woody Allen included) need to hold monthly meetings to help keep each other sane throughout this upcoming season...



Peace.

NYKnicks Blues

I'm starting this at exactly 3:45 a.m. The playoffs begin in precisely 8 hours and 45 minutes, with the Washington Wizards beginning their slow, self-afflicted execution at the hands of The King. This is the same man demigod that flaunted his superpowers because Chris Bosh's girlfriend started talking trash to him. What do you think he's going to do to the team that he's dismissed for two consecutive years; and yet they still feel superior to him? I apologize, I had to get that out the way. Mute your players next time, Eddie.

I think I'm over the shock that the Golden State Warriors won't be visible this spring; so I'm going to shift my attention to the other franchise that takes residence in the chaos dimension that is my heart: the New York Knickerbockers. I've been a fan of this team ever since I summited NBA Jam on Sega Genesis, using the tandem of Starks and Ewing. As you basketball fans know, Donnie Walsh did the inevitable and officially ended the Isiah Thomas era. A slight elation has overtaken the Big Apple, and the first step to a turnaround appears to have been made. However, if Knicks fans—or basketball fans/purists, for that matter—believe that this franchise will immediately rise from the cellar, they're sadly mistaken. I'm going to reveal my letter that I wrote would write to the Knicks. Written as I cool out to The Roots' "Illadelph Halflife" album; the one that changed my life and musical perspective...


[4:41 a.m. - The Roots "Respond/React" playing on the Windows Media Player]

Dear Everyone Affiliated with the Knicks:

This season has been the most trying in our relationship since we used flaming basketballs to reach the top of the first ever 2-on-2 full-court arena tournament with real NBA players (read: NBA Jam). That was the high point of our time together; and it came in 1993. Since then, we've had some good times: a string of playoff appearances, and...wait, that's it (Oh, there's this). But I would like to talk about the down times...

(Warning Knicks fans: There will be video evidence. Don't click the hyperlinks if you can't bear it.)

...I managed to keep you in my heart through the numerous disappointments I've suffered while being a part of your support system. I stuck by you through Charles Smith's softness under the basket in the 1993 Eastern Conference Finals. I forgave you for not benching John Starks for shooting 2-for-18 from the field (including 0-for-11 3's plus the game-winner) in Game Seven of the 1994 NBA Finals. It was tough, but I forgave you for letting Reggie Miller score eight points in sixteen seconds in 1995. I don't even count the 1999 Finals as a failure because you were an #8 seed and that was an incredible run—without Pat for most of the series; and because leaving Avery Johnson open was normally a safe bet in those days.

There's more. I forgave you for signing Allan Houston's jumper to $100 million over giving Spree's everything that same consideration. I turned the other cheek when you traded for Antonio McDyess and his fragile knees. I even forgave you for Frederick Weis, only because it allowed for this piece of poster history to exist. So you see, I've stuck with you through a lot. The Zeke regime was definitely a test of my commitment to you—to us. I was six years old when we started, so it's natural for a man to outgrow his puppy dog crush and move on to a more mature, stable companion. But I didn't. There is no reason for the team in the country's biggest market to be this terrible; and not just terrible, but that Charles Barkley, "turrble." You have nearly erased what NBA Jam built. From the sexual harassment lawsuit to Zach Randolph's, "defense," this season was the lowest of the low in franchise history. You have no one to arbitrarily blame for your mistakes like the Warriors have (Webber...). It's all on you.

[5:24 a.m. - The Roots - UNIverse At war feat. Common on the Player]

I contemplated for a long time about severing ties with you forever, and being firmly entrenched as a Wizards fan. But, for some reason, I just can't seem to leave you alone. Just when I think I'm going to cross that thin line of love and make my way to the other side, you pull me back. Trust me, it's not because of on-the-court reasons; because outside of David Lee, Ronaldo Balkman, and Wilson Chandler, no one shows consistent evidence of caring about our success. Every time I think of leaving you for good, visions of me pressing Turbo + Shoot and waiting for the, "Boom-Shakalaka!" fill my thoughts; and I'm right back to choosing you as my NBA Live/NBA 2k Series franchise to dominate the modern video game circuit.

I'm begging you, for the sake of my childhood, to please turn it around. Relieving Isiah of his duties was a start, but we need more. Trade the Fat Boys, relegate Q to the bench, fix the draft to get Derrick Rose (not Eric Gordon), and we'll go from there. The NBA has been known to allow for franchises to come full circle; as evidenced by Atlanta's semi-resurgence. Right now, I can't quit you; but I don't know how much more failure my heart can take. I don't want to see another Night at the Starbury...



Peace.

[5:43 a.m. A repeating of The Roots - "No Alibi" on the Player]