This decade: The Lakers are going to fade, and then the Thunder will take over the West. The Thunder will be the Anti-Heat, the Cool.
The narrative: Good vs Evil, Ambition vs Ego, Organic vs Processed, Basketball vs Fame, Homemade vs Store-bought, and (counter-intuitively) the Old Model vs the New. The Heat could become so dominant in 2-3 years time that other superstars have to team up to compete. If CP3 doesn’t join the Super-friends, he will join Carmelo plus one. Continue reading
Sent at 9:05 AM on Wednesday
Henry: I am pretty sold actually. The only problem is that all 3 of those guys: LBJ, Rose and Bosh play best with the ball in their hands and there is only one ball after all. But the Bulls have given themselves a chance to get 2 guys without completely gutting their team, which has to put them in the lead
Sent at 9:07 AM on Wednesday
Duncan: I just liked that story about LeBron going to the same restaurant as Jordan, sitting at the same table with the same waiter. It feels kinda obsessive, almost to a spooky level. And then you get kinda caught up in the signs, like his ditching 23 for this coming season was because you couldn’t wear that number in Chicago. But mostly, as you say, it gives him the strongest supporting cast, and therefore best chance at a championship.
Sent at 9:09 AM on Wednesday
Henry: I think the Knicks screwed it up so I have no pity for them, but I would have hoped that either the Nets or the Clippers would be hotter on the heals of the Bulls/Heat.
It’s going to be great to see how these teams pan out on a whole. Can Miami get three All-Stars and then what? Beasley and a bunch of minimum wagers?
Sent at 9:12 AM on Wednesday
Filed under Basketball, NBA
Aaron and Duncan get on Radio 1 on Dunedin to discuss the astounding implications of the Melbourne Storm salary cap scandal, Piri Weepu’s looming defection to the Northern Hemisphere, Kevin Garnett’s elbow and the NBA playoffs, plus some other things I can’t quite remember. But it was a lot of fun, potentially the best BALLS! yet.
http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Fdeadball%2Fballs-014 BALLS! 014 by Deadball
After the Celtics hyper-emotional run to victory in the 2008 finals, as a basketball neophyte, I was ready to fall in love with that team. Everything about it worked. The storylines were overblown but extremely engaging, and the way they played was similarly straight out of a hokey film. That voluble passion which manifested itself in odd ways, as the team snapped between lackadaisical periods before blitzing teams with a boundless intensity. The war cries of Garnett, Pierce’s eye for the theatrical and Allen’s quietly cerebral game – I loved them all.
And here I am, two years later, screaming at Miami for allowing them back into the game, telling my youngest daughter – not yet conceived during that dream season of ’07-08 – that she must never, ever cheer a Celtic. What happened? How did my love become loathing? I feel like to a large extent it came from the same place their current disaffection was born.
Put simply, the same factors which made them so selfless during that golden season have now come back to haunt them in the most infuriating way. The big three, once so committed to the team game, are mere shadows of their championship-winning selves, as if the mere act of getting a ring – proving to the world what they had always known of themselves – gave them free license to turn into the most selfish caricatures of that they had been prior. The movie stars:
DeadBall is about to go mental over the NBA playoffs (this post arrives hot on the heels of David and Henyry’s – sorry, but we may as well just keep this fire burning), so I’ll just keep it brief. Plus I’m fresh off the final of Mitre 10 Dream Home, and a little shaky emotionally as a result. I have no idea how Jane Kiely held it together in those final climactic moments – I’ll put it down to her experience as a world class athlete (was it long jump? I’m not prepared to get on the googler for this one), and her time on A Game Of Two Halves where she regularly appeared as the female foil between Veitchy and Ridgey (and unenviable position for any woman, although possibly not an exclusive club).
Of all the intriguing matchups and possibilities of Round One, Sky TV NZ kindly offered us the Spurs v Mavericks game this weekend. Brief thoughts on the match itself a little later, but come on Sky – a team, who thanks to McCain & Palin I will never again take seriously, against a team that I feel guilty for wanting to win. It was worth watching just to get a taste of the occasion, but the frustration of reading about the other games of the opening round has makes me question the relevance of ATPA Tractor Pulling – and I hate myself for questioning tractor pulling.
“So what you’re saying is, if I just keep saying motherf*cker non-stop in all my movies, I’ll never be out of work?”
Last week I accidentally set fire to my penis.
No I didn’t, but good god it felt like it.
I went 0-4 in the first round of the NFL playoffs and lost money on a football weekend for the first time this year. It hurt. It really hurt. The Cards taking a lucky one off Atlanta I could live with. Darren Sproles almost single-handedly pushing out Indy? That one bruised me, but hey tomorrow will have me 50-50 right?
After the Ravens literally ran over Miami Sunday morning, I was wandering the house dazed and confused. For the final game of last weekend I was constantly shifting seats, rooms, watching, not watching, ANYTHING to try and unjinx myself. Even my lucky Obama baseball shirt brought no relief (yes I wore it Nov 4).
As the clock went double zeros and Philly had hammered the final nail in, I felt depleted, burnt out, a shell. I was DONE.
A future as a vastly more portly version of Matt Dillon in factotum lay before me.
But then fate intervened. Continue reading
In a previous post I compared this year’s Celtics team to a jealous girlfriend. They were defending their title with a fiery passion, mildly irrational paranoia and with Kevin Garnett picking on younger, prettier and strangely threatening girls (or basketball players). The clip below of Garnett taunting Jose Calderon is a compelling example:
In other words, it’s been entertaining – just like a bitchy cat fight. But also like a cat fight, it illustrates the inherent fragility and insecurity of the instigator. In hindsight perhaps the intensity of these Celtics was less bravado and confidence and more fear and desperation. As with declining dictatorships and insecure girlfriends, the severity and number of authoritative displays are in direct correlation with their fear of losing power.
Filed under Basketball, NBA