Jedi Mind Tricks

If it isn't obvious to you by now, I love the game of basketball. To me, it has a nice blend of skill and athleticism. It's not as skilled as baseball, nor does it require the extreme amount of raw athletics necessary for football. One underrated thing I love the most, in all sports, is that no two players are alike. Gilbert Arenas, Mike Bibby, and Jason Terry were all point guards coached by Lute Olsen at the University of Arizona; but each of their approaches to the game is different from the other. However, I have a beef with my favorite sport; and it extends beyond media timeouts. College and professional players, meet me after the random picture...

I would like to address the theory that is "home court advantage." It seems that in athletics, those involved are looking for anything--legal or otherwise--to give them that edge in competition. Home court advantage has been around as long as the sports they support, but I have a few questions about some of the theorems and corollaries (yes, I'm a math nerd) that stem from it...

Look, I can get with the idea that playing in front of your own team's fans can give one an added boost of energy. Who doesn't get excited when the home team is on a run then there's a dagger three or thunderous dunk that sends the place into a frenzy? I mean, despite the fact that it isn't really "home court" most of the time, since few players are from the same area that they play professionally or collegiately. For example, by my count, Wally Sczerbiak and Lebron are the only two people from Ohio that play for the Cavs. How is it that even with a midseason trade, those new players immediately earn the benefits of home court advantage? When Cleveland made that trade with the Bulls, the two teams played twice in the following couple of weeks. So does that mean that Larry Hughes and Drew Gooden, all of a sudden, forgot how to play in Cleveland? Did Joe Smith immediately earn the supposed ratings boost that comes with home court? Hmm...

Basketball is different from other sports in the sense that there aren't different alterations to each arena. Football stadiums have different playing surfaces, wind gusts, and climates; so it's understandable that visiting teams not used to them would have difficulty playing there. In baseball, a fly ball to left behaves differently in Fenway Park than it does in PNC Park; plus, there are different surfaces there as well. Basketball is played indoors, so there's no threat of weather (people in Georgia may disagree); and the dimensions of the court and rim never change. There's no reason that a basketball player plays that horribly most times they're in away games. Some would say that 15,000+ booing fans would disturb anyone's energy, but I disagree. If they're being disrespectful, then I can sort of understand being distracted. Anything that attacks a player's personal life is definitely out of bounds. However, I maintain that if an opposing player is being booed, then he is doing something productive on the court. Granted, I've never been in any "big games," but this notion that it's "tough to play on the road" is ridiculous to me; and I have a theory on why it's so prevalent...

The second round of this year's playoffs has lent more ammunition to theory of home court. As I said, the home teams should play better when they're in front of their own fans because there is a certain comfort that comes with thousands people cheering for you. However, road teams should not perform drastically poorer than they do at their own venues. I blame the decades of coaches and analysts that continuously drill into players' heads that, "winning on the road is difficult." To me, it sounds like the people that put stock into this belief are looking for built-in excuses just in case things don't go well on the road. Current head coaching candidate and awesome analyst Mark Jackson made a good point. He said that the players and coaches that believe in this idea are weak-minded. Again, the rim is ten feet high in all arenas; and the dimensions are still 94 x 50 feet. It's all mental.

Players and coaches should never let anything mental bother them, especially something they cannot control. It's not like they can control the fans--that's the only way fans can have an impact on the game. This is probably another reason why I didn't end up a big-time coach, because I would remove any player on my team that subscribed to this theory. NBA/college players/coaches, get some mental toughness...and quickly.



Peace.

Letter 21212-K: Kevin Garnett

Two posts in one day? Have I officially become a blogger? Anyway, this one's been a long time coming. I didn't want to do it, but this year's regular and postseason have forced my hand. I'm sorry it has come to this. Kevin Garnett, meet me after the random picture...


Dear Mr. Not-So Big Ticket:

I have tried to avoid writing this letter about you for years now. This won't be as gratifying to me as the letter I wrote to Mark Cuban, or as painful as the ones I've written about the Knicks, but it still bothers me to have to do it. I admire your on-court intensity and off-court genuineness; but this is strictly a basketball matter. You're a first-ballot Hall of Famer and definitely a top 10—if not top 5—all-time player at your position. You spearhead the redefinition of the power forward, and are incessantly praised for you versatility. But, like I said, this is a basketball matter.

Sir, it seems that when the spotlight is its brightest, you prefer to let others attempt to thrive in the big moment. You play the background while lesser players take the shots and are involved in the possessions. This becomes more clear with each year you are involved in the playoffs. In Minnesota, I still maintain that your sheer awesomeness should have allowed for you to make it past the first round when you were alone in the Twin Cities. Other superstars have been able to do it: Allen Iverson in Philly, and Lebron last year—and this year—just to name a couple. But that's in the past now. You're in Boston green and on the best team in basketball, or so the Celtics should be. All the Massholes love you and the rest of the Boston Three Party, but it's really all about you. In Paul Pierce's ten years in Boston, he has never had the hype, commercials, and Messiah-like reverence that you have received. You, Sir, have resurrected a proud franchise and have increased the value of the NBA now that the Celtics are relevant again.


But let's get back to your postseason "shyness." I put this in quotation marks because I don't believe you consciously want to avoid the spotlight. You're too dedicated a player and love the game too much to not want to succeed, so I believe you shy away from pressure. However, I do believe that, for some reason, you're so unselfish that you would rather have others shine brighter in the big moment than your own superstar illumination. To me, being the best player on your team come with the right to selfishly demand the basketball in crunch time. This doesn't mean that you should have to shoot it all the time to prove your worth, because even Jordan passed to John Paxson and Steve Kerr. But the best player should be involved in every possession possible. For example, your inherited rival Tim Duncan was involved in the play in the Spurs' first round game against the Suns. He took it upon himself to turn that into a pick-and-pop, knowing he hadn't made a three all season. But somehow, Timmy rose to the occasion; even in a low-percentage situation.

Again, you don't have to have a multitude of buzzer-beaters to your credit in order to be a clutch player. I mean, if the Celtics are down three with three seconds to go, the right play is for Ray Allen. What I'm saying is that in the two to three minutes leading up to that moment, you should be involved in every offensive trip down, thus defining your clutch-ability. Yes, you have two other players that once held the right to be selfish down the stretch; but that is your earned privilege. You have the authority to go to Doc Rivers and demand the rock in the post whenever you feel like it, but your selflessness keeps you from doing so...I guess. Lebron's dagger of a dunk in last night's game was a microcosm of both of your playoff careers. Lebron putting on his cape and saving his ragtag teammates with his superpowers; while you stand by and watch others rise to the occasion.

It's tough to reprimand someone for being loyal, but, in this case, it feels necessary. Your passion is legendary, but your postseason play is the one chink in your otherwise flawlessly transcendent game. I would love to see you win a title while you're still great, and not leeching on as a veteran presence like Gary Payton did. Please, KG. I don't want this to be a lasting image of the Celtics' playoff run...and I'm a Knicks fan.




Peace,

TheTillShow

Black Mamba 360

As of May 2nd, I am officially a professionally published journalist. You can see for yourselves if you are near any of these locations; and as you can imagine, I feel pretty damn good. I haven't thought about how to celebrate yet. Maybe I should ghostride the farm. Anyway, the point is that nothing in the sports world can disappoint me right now...and I pledge my fandom to the Knicks. However, like always, I have some things on my heart I need to get off my chest—some [stuff] to address—so this won't be as lighthearted as originally planned.* Open your minds...

*(It was supposed to be my lighthearted attempt to actually defend Kobe winning the MVP, but I can't do that now that I've started my deep thinking.)

As I'm sure you fellow hoop lovers know, Kobe "Black Mamba" Bryant has won his first MVP award. He wasn't my pick to win it, but I can't argue with it because he was one of three very deserving candidates. For some, including myself, the player that proved he was most valuable this season was newly-cemented-favorite-NBA-player Chris Paul. I've been receiving claims through Facebook wall messages and instant messages about how I should rant and rave about The Mamba winning his Lifetime Achievement MVP Award; and depriving its right owner (*cough* CP3 *cough*) of it. However, I'm going to discuss the notion that Kobe has now come, "full circle," and is the golden boy he was prior to 2003...and how that's not as true as it appears to be.

From an outsider's perspective, Kobe appears to have been a person lucky enough to easily get most of the things he wanted. He's the son of a former pro ball player, and has seen more places in the world than some wealthy people. He speaks at least four languages, and was the crown jewel of the 1997 high school class (#2 in said class...Tim Thomas). He was blessed to be drafted into a professional situation in which he could flourish immediately, was on a team with the most dominant player of this era, and was a three-time champion before he was 25—something even His Airness couldn't even claim. And despite him being constantly compared to Jordan, he somehow managed to thrive in a pressure others have wilted (see: Vince Carter, Jerry Stackhouse, Tracy McGrady, and others); but still has grown into his own player. Then came 2003.

Kobe's ego was growing uncontrollable by the game, but the divorce between he, Chief Triangle, and the Big Aristotle hadn't become final yet. Then, after that fateful rendezvous with the hotel worker in Eagle County, Colorado; Kobe quickly realized that he was only a pet mamba. Let me explain.

It seems that athletes—Black athletes, in particular—are loved as long as they don't disturb the space/time continuum that is the mainstream. Yes, I know this topic has been discussed on numerous occasions; but with Kobe winning the MVP, I feel it's necessary again. Kobe was one of the biggest stars in Hollywood, and he wasn't a professional actor. He took his rightful place as heir of the Best Perimeter Player in the League kingdom, and had plenty of endorsement deals and commercials. But once it was revealed that he was flawed, all of that was swiftly taken from him. He went from hero to pariah in one summer. To me, he had become basketball's O.J. Simpson. He wasn't a murderer, but some would argue rape is a more heinous crime. His tearful apology couldn't help him as he was stripped of his media pedestal and tumbled to the cellar of infamy.


Yes, his personal on-the-court success continued; and I have a great deal of respect for him because of that. It takes immeasurable mental stamina—much more than a buzzer-beater requires—to endure the criticisms and insults, and still be able to perform without any significant dip in production. In my opinion, the media had realized not just that he was a flawed athlete, but a flawed Black athlete. The unconditional love he once had in the media now had two stipulations: a criminal record and skin tone. It seems that once a superstar athlete of any race messes up in his personal life, that closeness mainstream has with him or her evaporates; and that athlete becomes a social outcast.

I apologize, but I can't shake the suspicion that Black athletes get way more scrutiny than their Caucasian counterparts, especially with the recent plights of Michael Vick, Barry Bonds, and now OJ Mayo; and Mayo's not even a professional yet. It seems they receive a little more coverage a little longer than any White player would get. I'm not defending anything criminal, but I am defending fair treatment. To me, it seems there are a few variables that go into determining the amount of ridicule and how far an athlete falls from grace. I believe star status (Michael Vick opposed to Leonard Little), severity of the crime, public visibility (Roger Clemens as opposed to Mark McGwire), denial versus confession (Rafael Palmeiro opposed to Jose Canseco) and race (Clemens to Barry Bonds) are the main determining factors of this equation. For example, the reason why Mark McGwire isn't talked about in the steroids conversation is because he disappeared. The reason why Michael Vick was chastised and Leonard Little isn't is because Vick was a superstar player, and Little is an above-average defensive end. My point is, if Kobe Bryant was Trenton Hassell—a journeyman in the league—then he wouldn't have had to worry about answering as many questions about his night in Colorado for as long as he did after the incident had been settled. Think about how long it was between the release of Kobe's last pair of Adidas and the release of his first pair of Nikes...

Five years removed from the Eagle Co. experience, and most is forgiven. Kobe has all the fanfare that comes with being the best player on the NBA's glamorous franchise. His public image is mostly repaired, and he no longer has to worry about talking about court dates and his wife's feelings. Maybe Kobe's situation had nothing to do with race, but this admitted subscriber to conspiracy truths theories can't help but feel that way. I, am in no way, attempting to rain on the Mamba's MVP parade. Even though he isn't anywhere near the top of the list of my favorite players in the league (somewhere after #10...yes, I like ten players more than the Mamba), he has my utmost respect for the dominance he exhibits on a nightly basis. I'm just glad his career was allowed to continue, and he can—for the most part—put that dark cloud of his behind him. But, please believe, the mainstream hasn't forgotten.

Congratulations, Mr. Bryant.


Peace.



P.S. - If this kinda put you in a somber mood, check out my Top 20 cartoon songs of all-time. 20-11 is here, and 10-1 is here. Enjoy!

RE: Infatuation

Ever since 1996, one player has ruled the "my favorite basketball player" section of the chaos dimension that is my sports heart; and that player is Allen Iverson. On the court, The Answer is the basketball embodiment of every positive character trait I strive to have. He's diminutive by professional athlete standards; but possesses the heart and willpower of an immeasurable level. That tenacity allows him to equal and sometimes surpass the on-the-court production of his taller peers (third all-time in career points per game average). Then, to add to that, he does everything his own way. Braids, tattoos, and "inner city urban youth" swagger. To put it bluntly, he just doesn't give a...you know. For twelve years, AI has ruled my chaos dimension with a permanently inked fist; and I felt there would be no one—not even His Airness—that could overthrow him. I mean, Timmy has his fundamentally sound place in the kingdom, but I can't relate to being seven feet tall...and boring. The Black Mamba has garnered my respect, but it's more out of basketball awe than adoration. But suddenly, there is another. A young king that is slowly moving in on Iverson's territory. That man is Chris Paul.


Few players have captivated my attention to the point where I watch every second that he has the basketball. Steve Nash as maestro of the Phoenix Suns at the height of their offensive brilliance—yes, that window is closed—is the most recent example of how one man can have an entire game on puppet strings. It's as if Nash is so intelligent he is mentally three steps ahead of the defense, despite being a step slower physically; and the result is poetry in motion. Chris Paul has that same intellect, and the athletic gifts as well. So it appears he's four or five steps ahead of the other team. A prime example of this is what he did to Jason Kidd and the Dallas Mavericks in this recent first-round series. Avery Johnson may still be a "young" coach, but I think he knew that stopping Paul was priorities one through three. But that's just it. CP3 made it look as if the Mavericks' game plan was to stop the other players on the court; and let him have free roam. The result: four Hornets' wins in five games, and Avery's looking for employment.


Chris Paul's pure talent isn't the reason why he's challenging Allen Iverson for supremacy of my basketball heart. I mean, Jason Kidd was a wizard of a floor general, and so is Andre Miller. What allows him to even have a place in this dimension in the first place is his on-the-court leadership and swagger. He's not brash or boastful, but walks with a air of self-confidence that only true leaders carry. He has a demeanor...like a king. The difference between his leadership and, say, Kobe's is that it seems Paul's teammates follow him willingly; whereas the rest of the Lakers follow Kobe out of fear. I believe that Chris Paul would still be cherished and still be the unquestioned leader of the Hornets if his stats were cut in half. He has that much presence, and it seems that people flock to him and his players want to play better because he gives them the support and direction a great leader provides. I know the other players are talented on their own; but it seems they're performing better than they would under a lot of the other leaders around the league.

Chris Paul is beginning to destroy and rebuild the regime that Allen Iverson has constructed for the past twelve years in the basketball section of my sports heart. He hasn't completely overtaken The Answer's throne yet, but the empire is beginning to shake at its foundation. It reminds me of what The Roots, D'Angelo, J-Live and others (links probably NSFW: explicit language) have done to my musical tastes...But that's for another writing space—not for Fundamentally UnSound. Part of me wants to see him conquer Timmy and the Spurs, simply because it would provide more ammunition needed to overthrow Iverson. Hmm...apparently my chaos dimension is welcoming this change. It'll be interesting if the transformation will complete. For now, AI, you have company.


Peace.

My Hometown's Fandom is in Question

Jay-Z has apparently written a diss song about DeShawn Stevenson. Let that sink in for a moment. In fact, give it three moments...and while you do, read the story here at The Washington Post. I'll give you time, because I won't go into too much detail about the song; or the "beef" between Lebron and Deshawn. So, get to reading, then make your way back here.


My problem isn't with the fact that someone that's supposed to be as important as Iceberg Slim (probably NSFW) is taking time away from his busy schedule—and his woman—to write songs about DeShawn Stevenson. My problem isn't even with Lebron becoming increasingly annoying. I have a serious—and The Rock means serious—problem with my hometown's fans. If you're a fan of the Capitals, Wizards, Redskins, and Nationals (in order of success), meet me at the paragraph below the next random picture.


Have you forgotten how great a sports town Washington, D.C., was is? I know this town hasn't had many championship parades—three from the Skins, a couple from the Bullets—but, considering how many athletes that this metropolitan area churned out over the years, this should be a loyal city. However, I'm seeing that you're becoming shook like a fault line; and the Chosen One seems to be cause of it. No other self-respecting sports city—New York, Chicago, or Cleveland for that matter—would let an outsider taunt one of their own. I know Stevenson didn't grow up here; but if you're going to take on the identity of his, "You-Can't-See-Me/I-Can't-Feel-My-Face" hand gesture, support him—support all the teams—at and away from the arena/stadium. There's no way that song should played in a D.C. club, with a bench "player" (the guy in the suit and faux-hawk) talking trash about a member of a D.C. team without repercussions. Nothing physically violent; but there should be resounding boos from the crowd. To put this into perspective, I went to that same club a couple years back, and they booed Waldorf, Maryland's own Christina Milian (pictures included for obvious reasons). Sounds like improper prioritization of negative responses to me, Chocolate City.


I know some of you that know me may be saying, "How are you loyal to DC, but don't call any of the teams there your favorite?" This is true, for I am a 49ers, Yankees, and Knicks fan. I do, however, root for the hometown teams otherwise. Maybe not with the pseudo-enthusiasm you demonstrate when one of the teams here goes on a little winning streak; but I would like to see them succeed. It livens up this city. You're willing to continue to tug on Lebron's cape; but won't boo outside the Phone Booth because it's Shawn Carter's playing over the speakers? You come across as double agents.

I like how after Game 3 of the series with the Cavs, Wizards fans were all giddy, saying things like, "Oh! We're back in the series!" They were updating their facebook statuses with statements like, "O-VER-RAT-ED!" and, "Lebron, we're coming for you! (NSFW)" I know there are some die-hard fans out there that probably take exception to this semi-atrocity; and great exception to the myriad of Dallas Cowboys fans run amok in a town that supposedly puts the Redskins number one. I guarantee you there aren't more Red Sox fans than Yankees fans in New York—and vice-versa. I understand that there are a multitude of migrants from other cities; but that further enhances my point. New York is the "Big City of Dreams," but the locals would never allow outsiders get even a hint of an uprising in sports. Why the capital city allows this is a mystery to me.


I love my city. I will defend it to anyone. However, as far as fandom and loyalty goes, yours is in question, DC; and you need to get that straightened out immediately.*



Peace.



*And if that new Roots, Wale (DC native), and Chrisette Michelle song isn't the jam of the summer around here; it will be more obvious this city doesn't care about its artists.

Things I Hate: Football Edition

At first, this was going to be for baseball. However, with the news of Pacman's trade in principle, I feel I should celebrate this moment in football history. The forecast in Dallas now calls for...wait for it...rain! I wonder who's his, "Ms. Pacman?" My bet is on Jessica Simpson. She looks like someone that could be persuaded to leave Tony Romo by a video game character. Anyway, if you read the first of these, you know how this goes. If you didn't, I suggest you do so or something will happen to you. Maybe something kinda cool that doesn't really hurt...or this. You know, it's your choice. As usual, I won't address any of the traditional things; but I do have a newcomer at the top spot...

(I urge you to click the hyperlinks if you can. They help to explain things.)

1.) Partiots Fans...
Think back to 1999 for a minute. Go ahead I'll give you a few sentences. This pick has nothing to do with their team's tainted success since the turn of the millenium. This is about their, "supporters," and the douchebaggieness that comes with them. Okay, now that you're in that 1999 state of mind (NSFW), do you remember the Patriots being good? My point is that from the period of 1986 to 2000, New Englanders—Massholes—must've thought football no longer existed...and that includes the Super Bowl year of 1996. From William "Refrigerator" Perry scoring Walter Payton's touchdown in Super Bowl XX to Tom Brady's first game action after Mo Lewis ruptured Drew Bledsoe's spleen in 2000, there was no such thing as a loyal supporter of the New England Patriots. Now with Tom Brady and his Golden Boy-ability (he does date supermodels, after all)...

[Door flies open, rose petals scatter forth while celestial music plays]

..Other sports fans have to suffer through their incessant rambling about how Bill Bellichick is a god. I'm not saying they shouldn't support their team, but it's the manner in which they do it. It's almost to the point where you hate them for the sole purpose that they won't shut up about it. I wanted to see history, but deep down, I thank Eli-sha Manning and the Giantsfor ending that undefeated run. Massholes almost make Mercury Morris tolerable. Almost.

2.) Emmitt Smith as an NFL Analyst...
For those that can stand to watch Sunday NFL Countdown and those shows on ESPN during football season, you may know why this is a great pick. For those of you that don't, it seems the statistically greatest running back in NFL history isn't exactly a proficient speaker. Apparently, that University of Florida education is not as good as once believed. Need proof? You're in luck. First, there's this minor slip-up. Still not convinced? I have another one for you. Not quite? How about an entire portion of a website dedicated to his anthology; and his incredible lack of grammar skills. I would say that all those hits damaged his brain, but Tom Jackson can at least form words correctly. But don't worry, ESPN says he's getting better...


3.) The "Prevent" Defense...
Have you ever watched a game in which Team A's defense is dominating Team B's offense for about three quarters. Then, in what seems to be in miraculous fashion, Team B figures it out and proceeds to march down the field for the go-ahead score? And it seems that he aggressiveness that Team A once showed is gone; and it seems that they're just sitting back, slowly allowing Team B to progress? Well, in most cases, Team A falls victim to their coach implementing the Prevent defense. It's intention is to drop a lot of coverage guys to keep the big pass play from happening and make the opposing offense take a bunch of time to score. However, most of today's offenses are based on rhythm, and allowing them to continuously gain positive yards is just a ridiculous idea. I'm not talking about when Team B has to drive 80+ yards and needs a touchdown in 30 seconds. I mean when there's 5+ minutes on the clock, and Team A is only up a field goal. Show some aggressiveness. I'm looking at you, Herm Edwards. I thought you play to win the game...Hello!


4.) The New York Jets' Drafting Strategy...
I'm no NFL GM. I'm not trying to make fun of what is undoubtedly a terribly difficult and nerve-wrecking job to have. A GM's reputation can be molded by how he does with draft picks. However, when it comes to the draft, there's a group of people in the, "War Room," that are combining their mental capacities to select the right player for their franchise. Well, there must be some interference in the Jets' War Room because they have had some head-scratching picks over the years. It begins before my time with them passing on Dan Marino for Ken O'Brien in 1983. Don't know who Ken O'Brien is? Exactly. The took fullback Roger Vick in the first round of the 1987 draft. They drafted defensive end Bryan Thomas in 2002. Know who he is? Right. Just know that Ed Reed and Lito Sheppard were selected after him. 2003 pick, and recently released, Dewayne Roberston was selected before Terrell Suggs, Troy Polamalu, Larry Johnson, and Willis McGahee. Did I mention they once drafted a fullback in the first round? I didn't even discuss drafting Doug Jolley. Someone needs to instruct them how to better scout prospects, especially in the first round. Most of those picks are either no longer on the roster; or not very good (word to Ladainian). I don't know what's funnier: Their recent draft picks, or the fact that someone created a compilation video about their Draft Day blunders.


5.) Shaun Alexander...
At initial brainstorming of this note, he was a lock for the number one spot. However, having him here at #5 seems about right. I guess it's sort of symbolic for his colossal collapse in the past two seasons. Alexander, or, "Sweet Man," as one my esteemed members of my sports braintrust calls him, was the NFL MVP of the 2005-2006 season. In hindsight, this production was primarily due to him being in his contract year; and wanting to be paid. There's certainly nothing wrong with that—get your money while you can. However, after that, Alexander no longer played with the passion needed to perform in professional sports. I would argue that he never played that way, simply because although he was putting up incredible stats, no defensive player was intimidated by him. Now that same braintrust member was hoodwinked into believing that Alexander was actually soft, because he took him before Ladanian Tomlinson in his fantasy league (Ha!). His last two seasons, granted, were hampered by injuries. Even so, it was obvious Alexander did not love the game of football; if he ever did at all. He would run and avoid contact, not like an elusive back, but as a scared one. I mean, Dirk Nowitzki says Shaun Alexander is soft. Vince Carter thinks he mails it in. With his release by the Seahawks this week, I didn't feel the need to beat a dead horse. Oh well...Congrats on getting paid and relaxing an outstanding career.

6.) Bonus...
I won't continue with the tradition of naming players that I dislike (for football reasons), because--other than Sweet Man, Cedric Benson, and Kyle Boller--there aren't that many I can say I dislike. However, for those of you that like football and live in the DC area, I will leave you with this information I discovered while being around FedEx Field: Owner Daniel Synder is a douchebag. Big time. He speaks to you as if you're not worthy of being in his presence. He wasn't mean to me or his workers around him; but he did give them a mean mug when they celebrated a good play. Just thought I'd share that with you.


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]