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For NBA players, legacies are written in stone based off their performance in the post-season. Reputations are made and the gospel is spoken about how players executed in the most clutch of moments. It's the reason professional basketball players lace 'em up and play the damn game.
There might not be a player I was a fan of more than Robert Horry. A person who was tabbed as the next evolution of Scottie Pippen/Stacey Augmon when he was drafted out of Alabama, we have seen the man evolve from an all-around athlete in Houston, to throwing towels in Danny Ainge's face, to being arguably one of the best role players in NBA history. By simply "Knowing His Role," he was able to be feared for his excellence in execution.
I can't think of one person in the NBA who is like that right now. Not one.
“Bet he won’t fight.”
“You aint tryna whoop nobody!”
“All he does is talk. He doesn’t have hands for real.”
You name it, and just about any time you see a confrontation in an NBA game, someone is quick to follow with one of those sayings, or something similar.
It’s understandable; it’s human nature to say that, especially watching so much basketball over the years. The thing is you can probably count on one hand how many actual fights you’ve seen in an NBA game in the past 5-10 years.
If one has the ability to remove themselves from snap sayings, the conclusion that will follow is that this is exactly what you see darn near anywhere there are ten people, two baskets, and a basketball in the equation.
This is not limited to the NBA. Rarely does a fight jump off, and once we realize that, then the desire to jump to the obvious won’t be so desirable anymore.
This Wednesday on The Unsportsmanlike Conduct Show, former NFL wide receiver (and Langston University legend) Matthew Hatchette joins the fellas to chop it up with us about the 2011 NFL Draft, and what this means with labor negotiations running amok. Plus, we're honored to have Matt Moore of Hardwood Paroxysm stop by talk about his Memphis Grizzlies and his feelings about one Mike Conley.
Chukwuemeka Ndubuisi Okafor, also known as Emeka Okafor, 28, was born on September 28, 1982 in Houston, Texas. Okafor was laid to rest on Tuesday, April 26th, 2011 after an apparent murder in the first degree at the rim by Kobe Bean Bryant. Emeka is most notably known for being the #2 pick in the 2004 NBA draft, just behind one Dwight Howard. The pallbearers for Okafor's burial will be his four teammates in the starting lineup: Chris Paul, Willie Green from Detroit, Trevor Ariza and Carl Landry. A special scholarship has been created in honor of Emeka for "valor in stupidity in the lane by centers in the 2004 draft" to honor those who have fallen to one Kobe Bryant.
Witnesses say Kobe, 32, was already pissed about spraining his ankle while trying to defend Willie Green from Detroit. His center was playing real soft, his point guard was getting annihilated on every single play, and his coach looked like he wanted to go hiking up Mount Rushmore in South Dakota. "Who sprains their ankle trying to guard Willie Green from Detroit?" Kobe asked himself, and as Game 5 was playing out his center was playing like one-ply toilet paper, like left out Country Crock buter, like baby poo, and like fairies' wishes. The point guard was nowhere to be found, and the coach was over there repeating some indecipherable mantra.
Bean was pissed.
The first round of the NBA playoffs is well underway. By now, we’re pretty much familiar with the world-famous slogan “Win or Go Home,” and there’s enough evidence to suggest that the best way to win, or, at the least, delay your vacation, is to make a commitment to the defensive side of the ball. However, it can’t just be said and it can’t just be a slogan; it has to be a way of life.
Defense is a mindset; something you embrace as a unit, and something that you must embrace with full enthusiasm and responsibility. There’s a psychological edge that comes from taking pride on the defensive side of the ball that a team who doesn’t do it simply doesn’t have.
Some teams have a standout defensive player, but their team identity doesn’t mirror the effort of said guy. In other cases, there’s a team with a player who can transform the mentality of his team and catapult them all the way to the championship. The teams who have neither aren’t worth a damn, and the fact that they play no defense eventually bites them in the butt.
Everyone has either been this person or knows the person I'm about to describe...
Remember in high school when the formulation of the basketball team occurred? There seemed to always be a couple of guys who you knew personally that could ball their ass off courtesy of hooping at the Y, hooping at the rec center, the park, or in someone's driveway. Steady giving folks buckets. However, for one reason or another they either didn't make the team or didn't even bother trying out. The coach had something against them, or they couldn't make the tryout because they had a after-school job, or they mama wouldn't let them play are the usual excuses.
For Brandon Roy, watching him sulk and pout on the bench while watching his team play was a fascinating thing to see versus the Mavs in the playoffs. He knows he's better than everyone on the court yet he can't play. Mama won't let him, if you will. He's the second best player on the court besides Dirk, yet because his coach had lost some confidence in him and his knee is basically made out of chicken wire, plaster paris, balsam wood, fairies wishes, and floss string. Watching the man put his flimsy knee on the line and tell the world that he's out here...was nothing short of phenomenal.
*All this week we've held our 3rd annual MVP Series debate. Big time thanks to each of our special contributors Phil Barnett, Celia Kelly, and The Rev. Plus big ups to the bearded one for helping keep ETSF afloat. Today as we bring closure to the MVP Series, the emotions that are brought up by simply talking about the MVP award is fascinating. Please read and discuss in the comments section, and thanks for your continued support of our 40 acres and a mule of the Internet. -Ed.*
I think Celia started it off best in her post yesterday by simply stating what does "Most" and "Valuable" truly mean? Moreover, what do those two words mean to the two entities that are entrenched into the game, the teams and the league? Well, until 1981 the folks who decided the MVP award were the players only. You know, the people who are actually on the court? Yep. After 1981, a panel of sportswriters (not named Ed) and broadcasters were selected to decide the NBA's most prestigious award in sports. Instead of leaving the process to the people who are in the trenches seeing what's going on, now the choice for MVP is decided by folks who frankly are just like you and me.
You might say, "Well Ed, we're all able to be observers of the game. We can be objective and make a conscious decision on who should be awarded the Maurice Podoloff trophy, right?"
**This is the finale of the fourth annual MVP Series debate. Monday, Phil made his case for LeBron James. On Tuesday, Kenny presented his case for Kobe Bryant, and yesterday, The Reverend Paul Revere, shared the gospel of Dwight Howard.
Today on ETSF, Celia Kelly, a longtime friend of the site, gives us her take on Derrick Rose. Thanks to everyone for checking out the posts, and making this MVP series a success. Enjoy.**
Most: To the greatest extent, greatest amount or degree.
Valuable: a thing that is of great worth, having desirable or esteemed characteristics or qualities.
We, as a highlight-driven nation, lose sight of what those two words mean. Trust me, I cut highlights for a living, and because I’ve watched far too many games this season for my own good, I’m very desensitized as to what those two words mean as well.
But it’s not just about what those words mean. There’s other questions begging to be answered: Most valuable to who? To their team? To the league? Both. I say it’s both. Because at the end of the day, THAT is what I judge who the MVP is, and hell, I’m convinced you should as well.
After a week of folks making cases for who they thought was most valuable, it’s now my turn to convince you who the MVP is. They say to save the best for last, right?
Well, Derrick Rose, that’s right; the young, ambitious, and arguably most exciting player to watch in the National Basketball Association should and probably will be voted this season’s Most Valuable Player – because he is, after all, a player of great worth to the greatest extent.
This Wednesday on the Unsportsmanlike Conduct Show the fellas chop it up about the greatness that is the NBA Playoffs. Also, we'll continue our MVP debate on the show as we discuss LeBron, Kobe, Dwight and some point guard that plays in Chicago. Plus, comedian extraordinare Cerrome Russell stops by with his observations on the playoffs, including the "Passion Fist Mango Blend" Body Mist by Chris Bosh.
**Today is Day Three of the fourth annual MVP Series debate. Monday, Phil made his case for LeBron James, and yesterday, Kenny presented his case for Kobe Bryant. Today, our favorite Philadelphian, The Reverend Paul Revere, takes on the challenge of presenting the case of Dwight Howard.**
They say that defense wins championships, yet year in and year out when it comes time to vote for the MVP, the best of the best defensively get ignored. I’m here to correct that. Defense wins championships, and there is none better at defense than Dwight Howard.
He’s the three-time defending Defensive Player of the Year, with his third straight earned yesterday. He averaged 23 points, 14 rebounds and 2.4 blocks per game. But more than any of that, Dwight Howard made the Orlando Magic go more than any other player in the league made their team go. Let me explain.
Sure, Derrick Rose is the engine that makes the Chicago Bulls go. LeBron James is the most physically gifted basketball player on the planet. And Kobe is the quintessential champion. But none of those guys had to go through what Dwight Howard has had to go through this season.
**All this week on ETSF we're holding our annual MVP Series debate, where we gather our band of hooligans' thoughts to state a case for the Maurice Podoloff Trophy (MVP) in the NBA. Today the bearded one Soul On Ice takes the mic. Stay tuned all week as the debate continues. Comment and discuss!**
Yes, yes; it’s true. When it comes to who is the most valuable player in the NBA, the man who is at the front of the pack is none other than Kobe Bryant.
“Wait a minute: he doesn’t lead in anything. His team doesn’t have the best record in basketball. He’s this; he’s that, etc, etc, etc.”
While anyone can make those cases, and while they are all true, there’s one thing that has to be said about Kobe, regardless of the other candidates you will see this week: when he is on the court, his teams win. When he is not on the court, his teams lose. That’s fact.
This season has been a strange one for the Lakers. They are coming off of a Game Seven against the Celtics that they prevailed in, and for a majority of the season, they coasted through. Whether it was fatigue, boredom, irresponsibility, injury, or being lackadaisical, the point is they coasted.
However, there is one man on the Lakers who showed up to play every night and never took a game off. He made shots, played defense, controlled the game, and put the fear of God in everyone, whether it was a game in November or a game in April. That man was Kobe Bryant.
**This week on ETSF kicks off our annual MVP Series debate, where we gather our band of hooligans' thoughts to state a case for the Maurice Podoloff Trophy (MVP) in the NBA. The homie Phil Barnett kicks it off, stay tuned all week for the debate. Comment and discuss!**
We’re currently living in a world where the NBA landscape suggests that the Most Valuable Award isn’t what “most valuable” would seem to apply, mainly because no one seems to agree on how value is defined. MVP debates are always in a constant, never ending “rock-paper-scissors” style war in which advanced statistics trumps wins trumps intangibles trumps advanced statistics. And at some point, someone always invariably brings up the ultimate trump card, one that always seems to mean everything to everyone, or nothing no anyone, but it’s always a topic of conversation: emotion. It’s emotion that says Kobe can’t win it because he cheated on his wife and ran Shaq out of town. It’s emotion that says Derrick Rose is too young to win the award or that Dwight Howard isn’t a fun enough choice. No one wants to vote for the rapist in the same way no one wants to vote for the young boy or Goliath. It’s also emotion that says LeBron James isn’t the MVP of the NBA because he finally showed that the conjectural size of his ego proved to be much larger than the length between his eyebrows and hairline with the way he went about “The Decision.”
In fact, the general ethos of the audience that sat through Lebron’s decision and then through that pre-season public display of grandiose grandiloquence has, in turn, dominated the general view that he is now one of the least liked athletes in all of basketball. But how much does that matter?
*Today's guest post is from the homie RiPPa, one of the bloggers out here in these internet streets that I have a ton of respect for. Check him out.*
NBA superstar and all-around superhuman wannabe-rapper, Shaquille O'Neal, dissed Kobe Bryant by kicking a fresh sixteen onetime with the hook, "Kobe, tell me how my ass taste." I'm not sure if you remember that, but we all laughed. Speaking of memory lane, I bet you didn't remember that at one point in time, Kobe was also poised to get into the rap game with the launch of an album. An album that we all figured would be reminiscent of another famed Philly rapper who broke it down about the complexities of the child-parent relationship. Surely as clean cut as pre-rape Kobe was, there was no way he'd release an album with the typical misogyny of your everyday NBA player-wannabe-rapper type. Shout out to former Laker Cedric Ceballos?
You know, this post was supposed to be about basketball. As a matter of fact, I wrote a post about basketball, but it just didn’t feel right, and for that, it has been placed on hold. Part of the reason it didn’t feel right is because an event took place last week that marked the end of an era. Another great player decided to charge it to the game and leave quietly, and that man is the one and only Manny Ramirez.
Manny is easily one of the greatest baseball players not only in my lifetime, but also one of the greatest who ever lived. The man made the game look so easy and never looked like he took anything too serious. The man lived for the moment, had a blast in front of everyone, and while it pissed some people off, there were plenty of folks who loved just about everything the man ever did.
In this edition of The Unsportsmanlike Conduct Show, Kenny goes on a tirade about Dove Men + Care personal care products. (You have to understand that Ken's been on the crusade with Dove since early 2010 and has not let up since, so now he's mad that Dove's got other folks...nevermind. I'll save it for you to listen to.) Plus we'll do a deep dive into the NBA playoffs. Who do we give a damn about and who we don't give a damn about. Finally, we explain the origin of The Obituaries and our personal favorites.
Note: This is the first of what I hope will be a series of ballpark reviews during the course of this year’s MLB regular season. I currently live in Central California (Bakersfield) and almost exactly between San Francisco and San Diego (with Oakland, Los Angeles and Anaheim somewhere between). I’m going to try and check out all five California ballparks with other ETSF contributors checking out others across the country. Enjoy.
City: San Francisco
Team: Giants
Miles From Home: 285
You’ve never seen a city happier than what the people of San Francisco are right now. It’s always been a city that loved their Giants, a team deep-rooted with as much positive history as a franchise could have without a championship to show for it. The Giants moved to San Francisco in 1957 (the same year the Dodgers moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles), and spent the next 52 years title-less, and quietly became one of the most tortured franchises in all of sports.
Ironically, torture would become the theme for much of the Giants 2010 regular season, where they were able to finally bring the World Series title to San Francisco on the backs of the Giants starting pitching rotation and timely post season hitting from guys like Cody Ross, Pat Burrell, Aubrey Huff and rookie of the year Buster Posey.
Jrue Randall Holiday, 20, passed away on April 11th, 2011. Jrue was just two months shy of his 21st birthday (June 12, 1990) yet all signs point to underage drinking as the cause of his untimely death. The Chatsworth, California native was selected by the Philadelphia 76ers in the first round of the 2009 draft with the 17th overall pick. In just his second year in the league, Holiday had begun to emerge as an up and coming point guard in the league. However, its quite clear that the pressure to succeed in Philadelphia was beginning to overtake him as last night he was clearly drinking on the job. What was he drinking? Hennessy.
Witnesses say that Dwight David Howard, 25, was miffed (this is exactly the word everyone described him as....miffed) because his Magic lost a game that was there for the taking against the soon-to-be Eastern Conference champion Chicago Bulls. It was just another chip on the shoulder for Dwight. Not only does he have to carry his sorry sack of hooligans into the playoffs, not only does he have to carry his head coach Stan Van Jeremy into the playoffs, but he also will eventually have to hear the "Derrick Rose is CLEARLY the MVP for 2010-11 season" rhetoric that will be spewed by the media for the next couple of weeks. Witnesses say that Howard had had enough and had begun medicating himself with various forms of alcohol. He tried the Remy, tried the Courvoisier, but the only thing that did the trick was...Hennessy.
I've waited roughly seven months to really write anything about the homie Blake Austin Griffin. There was only one post that vaguely dealt with the young man, and truthfully, it didn't have as much to do with him as it did for who the victim was. As you may have figured out by being a long-time reader of this site, following me on Twitter or Facebook, or just knowing me in real life, you'd know that there might not be a bigger Blake Griffin Stanley than Ed. the III.
However, the narrative that has been spun about Blake Griffin is one that I've waited for seven months to react on. The physical beastitude that Blake has displayed in his "rookie" season has been nothing short of absurd. The 40" vertical, the willingness to rebound, and the sincere desire to dunk on people at will has made for awesome television. The Clippers have essentially become must-see television...which has given me cause for concern.
Some of you have started treating Blake as a sideshow, and as a Blake Stan, there's no way in life I can let this happen.
Quick story...
Something I've learned over the course of the last 27-ish years of my life, when the homies are winning...you are in fact winning (no duh; I don't believe you, Charlie Sheen). Truthfully, when the homie Ken walks across that stage with his Masters' degree, its going to be a celebration 'round these parts. Same for the homie JKS who's trying to raise $1 million dollars for cancer research. Or my homie Chuck who's saving kids lives one friend at a time. Do work, homies. So on Wednesday night, when we finished interviewing the homie DFJZ and talked about the way folks feel about The Jordan, I had an epiphany. It was like my mind became clear, high-definition clear to be exact. Hell, maybe 1080p. One singular thought came to mind as to who could help us get to the bottom of our thoughts about The Jordan.
"We gotta get an interview with Charles Oakley." - Ed.
Roughly 30 hours later, the homie Oak confirmed via Twitter. God Shammgod is good. End story.
With that being said, let me give a big thank you to the Indiana Pacers for making the playoffs, because I know you all read that title and asked yourselves...what in the hell is Ed talking about?
*Today's post is by featured guest blogger Average Bro. The mic is yours, homie.*
Let's get one thing out of the way immediately. Blake Griffin is one heckuva player. He's fun to watch. He dunks a lot. He's a perpetual Play Of The Day nominee, and a Youtube waiting to happen everytime he steps on the court. He's kind of a d*ck. He’s a seat-filler in any arena he steps into, and has singlehandedly helped reel in a new generation of casual NBA fan. He is the undisputed 2011 Rookie Of The Year.
And five years from now, he won't even be half the player John Wall is. Not even in the same stratosphere.
The fellas take time to have the post-game meeting after the Final Four in Houston, plus we chop it up with ESPN Truehoop editor Rasheed Malek (WarriorsWorld.net) and the homie Dragonfly Jonez tells us an epic story about The (Michael) Jordan that will cause Ed to drink.
Last night, I had the pleasure and honor to watch a REAL college basketball national championship between Texas A&M and Notre Dame. A game where the women showed the men how to scrap it out, tough it out, and gut it out to determine a national champion. Its not that I don't think the men tried hard on Monday, but for whatever reason, the effort was more apparent in Indianapolis versus Houston. All hail Gary Blair (and then he hit his dougie) and the Aggies for bringing home their first national championship to College Station.
However, the majority of folks who watched the game only had one thing in mind...
"Man, do you see that #4 girl for Notre Dame? She's bad, homie."
"Dog, those two Sydney girls for Texas A&M...I'd let them post me up anytime."
"Dude, Skylar Diggins is so fine, I'd wife her up and take her last name."
Is our integrity as sports fans on the line if we stop and stare at the beautiful women that play the game of basketball? Should we be able to keep it together as the national championship is decided before our very eyes? Are we just heathens? Probably, but this is nothing new in the world of sport.
Read the title and allow it to sink in.
Last night was not the worst college title game of all-time; no, that would be too kind. Last night was the worst basketball title game, on any level, that I have ever seen in my life.
EVER.
Before the game, the excitement was in the air. Butler was back to play on the biggest stage in college ball, looking to win their first national championship. UConn was back, after a six-year absence, looking to win their third national title in The Jim Calhoun Era. The storylines were set, the players were known, and the backdrop was complete. The one thing that was needed was for ten players to take the court, five from each side, three refs, and a ball. The rest would take care of itself…
…and take care of itself, it did.
Did you realize...that you were a champion? (In their eyes)
You don't see just how wild the crowd is?
You don't see just how fly my style is?
I don't see why I need a stylist
When I shop so much I can speak Italian
For as many times as I've "Shocked The World," I don't think I've ever came into one with as much uncertainty as when I touched down in Houston, Texas. I mean, think about it; my ace-boon-koon, aka The Bearded One, was unavailable. I didn't have any secured credentials/tickets for the Saturday session, and Houston can well...be Houston. However, when you Shock The World with good intentions....good things will undoubtedly happen. Now watch me work... *flex* *flex* *flex*
Over time, you grow up, certain passions wane, and a disconnect takes place. What used to be a priority merely becomes something to do. This certainly applies to professional wrestling. There was never a time when the thought was to consciously give up wrestling. Some people look at the demise of the Attitude Era, or the merging of WWF and WCW together, or the WWF selling their souls to become World Wrestling Entertainment as contributing factors to wrestling taking a hit (the latter sealed the deal for me). All of those factors have merit.
Who knows exactly what it was for different people, but the days of watching Monday Night Raw, Smackdown, Superstars, and Sunday Night Heat came to a halt. However, there was one constant that never truly went away. No matter how far removed from the sport, every March or April, I’d find a way to get back in touch with the sport, just in time for WrestleMania.
