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.
Tag Archives: LA Lakers
Note: due to continued f*** ups with their much-advertised, little-supported International League Pass broadband system (which has pretty much shut down since the playoffs arrived, happily), I’ve only watched the two ESPN games so far. So frustrating. I can heartily recommend not giving the NBA any of your money next year, no matter how tempting it might be. The system just doesn’t work.
Anyway, so the Kobe Bryant show did a really nice job on the Thunder last night, in what was one of the strangest games I’ve seen in a while. The Thunder were just manic, as their 17 (!!!) blocked shots/17 turnover performance will attest. And even though KD was able to make it happen a bunch more than in the first game, there was always the sense that LA were going to take this one home.
And, grudgingly, I’m coming round to the idea that this is an LA team you have to respect on some level (the same way you respect the IRD, I guess), and being a straight up Laker Hater is just a bit too easy. They won smart, dirty, tough and fair, hit shots when they needed to, got stops when they needed to, and generally played like NBA champions. The kind who might be banged up and aging, but still know how to break the hearts of a group of young men when their minds are focused.
And they did it all despite having both Ron Artest and Derek Fisher in their starting five. Which kinda boggles the mind. It’s like Phil Jackson’s playing chess against himself at this juncture, putting himself in ever more desperate situations just to keep himself interested. Because that pair are just awful. Continue reading
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:
In the tradition of “the time I wrote a DeadBall post after watching the final of Mitre 10 Dream Home” comes the new post written whilst watching the final of Hells Kitchen Season Something. I haven’t watched this season at all, but the re-cap intro had me rooting for someone who was culled last week – her name is Corey, and she’s cute in an unorthodox way. But she’s already gone, get over it – Christina (25) and Petrozza (46) are left to fight it out.
Meanwhile, I feel I can’t let the Houston Rockets disappear into the night without giving giving them their dues. A team that breezed past the fancied Trailblazers (remember when Portland were the only team in the West that would trouble the Lakers?) with relative ease, they somehow managed to stretch the Lakers to seven games – without their two biggest stars, and refusing to playing offense properly. Pure grit, aggression, and (Battier’s stink-palm) in your face defense was enough to snatch three victories in the series. However, it was the personalities, rather than the play, that really shone. In particular, Ronald (Ron Ron) William Artest Jnr, and his post-match comments.
(Hells Kitchen) Ad break. There are a lot of asians on Lost now. Or at least, that’s what they want you to think… Continue reading
“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