Drew Brees Took a Perfectly Subtle Jab at the Infamous Non-Call in the Latest UNTUCKit Commercial4/10/2019 As someone who, unless otherwise instigated, plans to treat the rule change that Sean Payton coerced out of the NFL as an opportunity to start moving on from the most obvious and impactful of officiating gaffs, I'd really like to start the process of forgetting what was readily seen by everyone with better than 20/100 vision as an abortion of integrity. That being said, seeing as that process will literally never completely end, just as the NFL will never be fully forgiven, I'm all for the occasional call back to the league's buffoonery. It's probably best for the future of the Saints' franchise if the parading around in pettiness portion of New Orleans' party-centric mourning period has reached its sobering conclusion. Subtle reminders that revenge is still very much due, however, will be eternally appreciated. Whether or not that spite be cleverly scripted into an attempt to sell more properly fitting button-downs is inconsequential. The longevity of the grudge burning in the collective heart of the Who Dat Nation, on the hand hand, is not.
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They did it. They fucking did it...with "it" of course meaning absolutely nothing other than throwing their chips on the table, holding their breath, and lucking into the type of earnings that leave you liable to run laps around the casino like a goddamn lunatic. Taylor Hall let it ride on the black magic of whatever horseshoe he's got stuck up his ass...
Ray Shero flashed a grin that was suspiciously shit-eating in retrospect...
And every Devils' fan that thought their C- in Statistics could help them prognosticate the one-off probabilities of ping pong balls that have proven to be unpredictable, time and time again, now has to apologize for bitching and moaning about professional athletes playing with pride and...well...professionalism when they had nothing else to play for...
As for what this means for the franchise going forward. In the best way possible, It's impossible to measure what the impact of another young game-breaker whose ceiling is the sky will be. However, from their GM, to their Head Coach, to the player that serves as their Hart beat, just about every voice that currently carries weight in the Devils' organization was a day removed from speaking to an immediate need for more talent. Be it in the form of a freakishly fast and skilled American center or a big-bodied Finnish winger that lacks flaws, that talent has essentially already been acquired as early as April. The fact that is was acquired at a bargain basement rate that basically leaves the organization at an 8-way stop in terms of what avenue they want to explore in investing their embarrassment of assets is just another bonus.
My first instinct was to attempt to reach through the TV screen, give Jack Hughes' flowing hair a flip, and swaddle his baby face in a Devils' blankie. After all, dynamic depth down the middle is the type of foundation that can make up for other structural flaws in this era of the NHL. That said, whether they go with him or Kaapo Kakko is a debate for another day...if not every other rivalry-intensifying day between now and June 21st. The important thing is that that decision is now up to an organization that desperately needed to give their star player what he made it clear he wanted in another reason or three to stay in New Jersey for the foreseeable future. Nothing is done until the ink dries, but - after winning yet another draft lottery - Ray Shero would have to conduct an apocalyptic train wreck of an offseason for it to end with Taylor Hall feeling anything other than optimistic about the direction of his team. That aspect shouldn't be lost in all this well-deserved Hughes' hype of Patrick Kane comparisons, for (more likely than not) his rookie is a huge one in determining the future of a franchise that would have every right to feel a bit too cocky at the craps table right about now.
Welp, it doesn't get much more fitting than that. From the start, during which Dirk Nowitzki entered the arena that he's called home for the entirety of his illustrious career to the love and adoration of the most extended of his work family. To the finish, during which a bunch of the NBA legends he grew up idolizing took both the floor and the mic in speaking to his eternal place amongst them. Sprinkle in a tidy 30 point stat line capped off by a mid-range fadeaway that's been entirely unblockable since he all-but-copyrighted it decades ago, a teary-eyed tribute to his efforts in the local community, and a retirement announcement that would have been understated if not for a sold-out arena losing their voices in honor of his legacy. Put it all together and what you get is a night that did as fantastic a job as one night possibly could in encapsulating all that Dirk Nowitzki means to the game of basketball as the living embodiment of the Dallas Mavericks.
The overseas talent who, more or less, gave the "they're with me" wave in opening up the NBA's door to the flood of European players to follow. The game-changer to which every new school stretch four with a wet jumper owes a piece of their paycheck. The champion that didn't just repeatedly take less money in shrugging off the notion of joining a "superteam", but beat the brakes off what was the most notorious one at the time in proving that team can trump talent en route to a title that officially filled his resume. The leader whose career with the one franchise for which he may always be the face of might just be one of final few arguments that loyalty in sports isn't a complete farce. Dirk Nowitzki shattered both regional and physical stereotypes while all-out assaulting defensive game plans in a way that forced the entire sport to adapt for the better, and he did so as a universally beloved figure who became synonymous with his city. I don't know that last night was proof of all that, but it was as strong, thorough, and...well...awesome an implication as you could have possibly expected.
Honestly, if loving that "handshake" is gay then call me Neil Patrick Harris. I say that not because I wasn't taken aback by the casualness with which two professional athletes cupped each other's genitals in front of thousands of onlooking fans in broad day light. Instead, I say it because I can't get enough of the mental image of the old, repressed alumni of 'The Goose Gossage School of Hyper-Masculine and Emotionally Constipated Hardball' grabbing their left breast in narrowly avoiding an untimely demise at the sight of some platonic holster checks between the boys. Again, having my testicles given a celebratory squeeze by a teammate wouldn't be my preferred way of celebrating a solid swing of the bat. However, so long as it gets people to try to suppress their laughter long enough to have a serious debate about the social acceptability of homoerotic self-expression during sport then I fully support it. There's not a fanbase that would be made more uncomfortable in their sexuality by two big, strong pillars of manliness gleefully checking the balance of each other's account at the sperm bank then that of a Major League Baseball team in Texas, and their distress leaves me almost as satisfied as firing off the only gun I care to unload when I'm anxious.
Look, I get it. No one not named Slava Voynov ever wants to see someone who ruthlessly beat his wife back on NHL ice. Only being guaranteed of his disgraced absence for one more year during a period of heightened sensitivity and social awareness towards women makes more than most, including myself, feel uneasy. If the league's zero tolerance policy for such egregious acts against members of a demographic with which they are currently trying to extend their reach was exactly that then we wouldn't have to worry about spending the next season prepping ourselves for the moral dilemma of consuming a product potentially tainted by the participation of a loathsome piece of human garbage. For that reason, this suspension isn't the best outcome. That being said, while piling on the NHL for being run like complete crap is one of my favorite hobbies, this suspension isn't nearly as bad as it could be...which makes it pretty damn good given how low the NHL has set the bar. For better or worse, we live in a land of second chances and players' associations, so it was almost inevitable that the fate of Slava Voynov's future was going to eventually be put in the ethically compromised hands of those that will have every opportunity to deny him gainful employment in the NHL for eternity. When all said and done that exchange in responsibility will have taken five full years, a period of time that is entirely unprecedented amongst other professional sports' leagues that have dealt with similarly vile circumstances, to come to fruition. Therefore, any criticism I might feel inclined to direct towards a league that's relatively new to this moral authority business would really just be a projection of my future lack of faith in the owners and GM's operating in it. If the team builders do something as simple as view a 30-year old defenseman who has been out of the league for half a decade after taking domestic violence to a whole new level as not worth the dumping of every ounce of their organizational integrity into the sewer then his reinstatement will never even an issue. Truth be told, it's the absolute least they could do to show they care about women after the NHL forced the public relations' disaster of a rare, right handed puck-mover to go play in and around Siberia during the entire prime of his once promising career.
SI- Quarterback Aaron Rodgers spoke out against a recent article from Bleacher Report, calling it a "smear attack" and said there were a number of "highly questionable" things included in the story that delved into the relationship between Rodgers and former head coach Mike McCarthy.
In a new interview with Jason Wilde and Mark Tauscher ESPN Milwaukee, Rodgers said he's heard from over 100 current and former players and coaches since the story was published last week. "I want to say two things: One, if they knew that, why would they offer me a contract last year?" Rodgers said in the interview. "And two, which goes into my second central thesis point that I'm going to take down, is if I really disliked Mike so much, why would I re-sign knowing that if I play well and we do what we do around here — we made the playoffs eight straight years and then I got hurt and we missed the playoffs — it's going to be me and Mike my entire career? So if I really disliked him that much, do you think I'd re-sign? Is the money that important to me? I'll tell you it's not. Quality of life is important." Rodgers acknowledged the he and McCarthy might have issues but the two always dealt with it face to face and it didn't get in the way. Rodgers said: "I love Mike McCarthy. He's a great man. He's got a huge heart. He really cares about his players, and he showed that to us. ... As far as a player to a coach, it's just two Alpha males who are hyper-competitive and love winning and are both a little stubborn. But, again, we talked through so many different issues over the years and that made us a lot stronger." The story cites Greg Jennings and Jermichael Finley heavily, with the two sharing stories, including one from Jennings where he discussed knowing it was his last year in Green Bay after Rodgers joked about the wide receiver joining the 49ers. After Wilde brought up the two, Rodgers said: "If it’s not an article about me, do you ever hear their names anywhere else? … You talk about me being sensitive and petty, at what point do you move on or stop telling the same stories?" -------- I say the following as someone who doesn't find Aaron Rodgers to be a particularly likable or forthright person, regardless of how great he is as a player. I think it's totally to refer to Bleacher Report's offseason piece that went out of its way to do research and report on the enigmatic reputation of one of the NFL's most transcendent talents as a "smear attack". While reading up on the inner non-workings of the Green Bay Packers' organization was incredibly interesting, enlightening, and explanatory, the extensive article did come off as a pretty complete takedown of Aaron Rodgers personally and Mike McCarthy professionally. Therefore, I can totally understand them both feeling attacked by the criticisms of former peers who may have exaggerated their truths in picking sides in what sounds like an extremely polarizing organizational feud. That being said, I am left asking myself one question that Aaron Rodgers only lightly touched in a suspiciously dismissive way. That question, of course, is why? I know why people would take aim at Mike McCarthy, as having your resume as an offensive head coach reduced to used toilet paper almost always comes as a result of being fired for repetitively underperforming with an All-World talent under center. But why would multiple players that used to benefit from catching deadly accurate passes from said All-World talent attempt to sully his name unless his name deserved a sullying? Simply put, Aaron Rodgers is going to have do a bit better then claiming it's all made up for publicity, since you don't find too many players whose careers were elevated by playing with high-quality quarterbacks who are quick to sell them down the river for a headline. Leaders the likes of Peyton Manning, Tom Brady, and Drew Brees have made not a single eternal enemy in their rotating arsenals of weapons despite being just as demanding of them, so - historically speaking - I have no choice but to believe there is something to Aaron Rodgers being a bit of a passive aggressive prick. Now, there are worse things to be in this world than a self-indulgent dickhead, especially when you possess an unprecedented amount of arm talent. However, for him to disingenuously plead innocence on all counts is him asking for the suspension of a laughable amount of disbelief. Seeing as his career has been largely wasted while working alongside an uncreative head coach, I don't particularly blame him for being an asshole. I do, however, blame him for not being self-aware enough to at least own it.
In an completely ass backwards way, college basketball might just be the viewing experience for you if consistency is what you value most in officiating. That consistency might be in a complete lack of common sense, but if you're solely looking for a sport with reliable referees then look no further than the one in which the whistle blowers are so dependably dumb in big spots that even the calls they take far too much time to get technically right are egregiously wrong. Even if you don't take into account the fact that he was fouled prior, there is not a person on the planet that watched De'Andre Hunter smack the ball clean out of Davide Moretti's hand and thought that a frame-by-frame investigation of film was necessary in determining who was responsible for it ending up out-of-bounds. That includes the person who unknowingly forced the turnover, who didn't care to utter a single argument against the original call on the floor. That also includes the person who could have potentially recovered to save himself from said turnover had the ball brushing against his pinky in a form and fashion that not even CSI's most faithful forensics team could provide evidence of been so unbeknownst to him that he actively slowed up and watched his team's National Championship hopes bounce casually into the crowd. At almost any other point of that title game, other than an overtime period during which the score was within one possession, that's Texas Tech's ball without any debate whatsoever. Therefore, at it's absolute best, that reversal was only circumstantially accurate, with said circumstance being the most impactful one during which you'd think the spirit of both the sport and of replay would be most highly prioritized. Of course, actually thinking is the quickest way to find yourself confused by the decision making of the NCAA's most trusted officials. Therefore, the real mistake was made by those, much like myself, that believed logic and reason should have factored into the process of squinting at a tiny TV monitor while determining whether or not to create an otherwise non-existent controversy in the waning minutes of an otherwise awesome championship game. BONUS BUFFOONERY:
Anyone else. Almost anyone else in the NBA and I'd presume this was nothing more than a coincidental product of ironic circumstances. Almost anyone else and I'd think that unforgiving flagrant foul wasn't as much of a long-overdue execution of a poignantly promised revenge plot as much as it was a desperately physical play between two players whose contentious history is water under the bridge at this point. Fortunately for haters of Cro-Magnon brutes who have little business on a basketball court these days, it was not anyone else. It was Russell Westbrook, and for that reason I couldn't be more positive that that proverbial bridge was about as eternally burned in his brain as the image of Zaza Pachulia towering intimidatingly over him before a single ripple crossed under its shadow. Two years and change, during which a largely irrelevant goon that evolution appears to have left behind changed teams from the one with which Brodie harbors eternal animosity, and there's not a doubt in my mind that in that moment vindication was on his mind as he brought down the hammer to that oversized head. As an appreciator of timeless and unconditional grudges, I respect the hell out of that type of long-term memory for the malicious. Especially when it results in the ass of a reckless idiot having finally been gotten back with a vengeance by a player who prides himself on never forgetting.
Ok, this is it. Last chance to hop off the "Antonio Brown is an evil genius" train before you arrive at the final destination that is right down the street from his unofficial asylum in Crazy Town. I don't know why anyone felt confident getting on board in the first place, as we are talking about the type of egotistical idiot that thought nothing of launching furniture over his balcony and into an inhabited common area 14 floors below, but everyone makes mistakes. It's committing to those mistakes, when it is clear that's all they are, that is truly inexcusable. I would say with complete confidence that we've reached a point where everyone who thought AB was putting Heath Ledger's performance as the Joker to shame in merely acting like an absolute lunatic of a loose cannon should know they done messed up. He may have profitably whined and wackjob'd his way out of Pittsburgh, but he certainly didn't do so by outsmarting an entire NFL organization with a meticulously pre-planned misrepresentation of his mental health, or lack thereof. I mean, we are talking about a jealous jackass who somehow, in the span of three social media posts, self-inflicted a Wile E. Coyote-esque amount of damage to his own damn arguments. Antonio Brown proved JuJu Smith-Schuster's entire point for him, and likely basked in the artificial love of every single heart as his utter senselessness went more and more viral. Mr. Big Chest is a lot of things, but an expert thespian with complete control of his emotions is not one of them. Dude is absolutely kookoo, with or without Cocoa Puffs, so it's time to slam the casket on this narrative that he maniacally manipulated the Pittsburgh Steelers with anything other than an entirely insufferable personality that is wildly disconnected from any sort of reality.
To be quite honest, I don't think the timing of this actually matters. It's possible, if not very likely, that this extension has long been a foregone conclusion that made the most sense to be signed and/or announced come the end of what was a rough season for all parties involved. After all, despite being about as active as a stoner with early on-set senioritis last summer, Ray Shero's tenure as General Manager of the New Jersey Devils has largely been a successful one. That might be tough to see in the ugly results of his 4th season as such, but it's certainly not hard to see in the AHL/AARP roster of the team he originally took over. There's still a lot of work to be done, but the trades he has lost have been few and far between, as well as nowhere near as impactful as the countless trades he's overwhelmingly won. His leash almost certainly grew a bit tighter since September, but I hardly think that cutting ties anytime soon was something that was ever truly discussed. That being said, you don't become a billionaire by blindly investing in things you're given no reason to believe in, so it stands to reason that Josh Harris and David Blitzer had some assurances made that the next few months will be profitable ones before starting them off by prolonging their financial commitment to the builder of their team. Whether that speaks to Ray Shero's confidence in keeping his Hart in the right place by locking up Taylor Hall or his general willingness to collect on a plethora of assets/take some financial risks, we shall soon see. Regardless, I couldn't be more certain that this offseason, unlike last, won't leave me in need of a cold shower...until the person spearheading it pretty bluntly spoke of his lack of satisfaction lately.
The Devils Went Out on Top, Even if it Ultimately Caused Them to Fall a Bit Further From the Bottom4/8/2019
We can all bitch until we're blue in the face about the Devils winning another otherwise meaningless game that, following a subsequent Kings' victory that the hockey gods found funny to bring to fruition, ended up costing them approximately a 2.0675642% at landing a more talented teenager come June 21st. Of course, that whining would contain words as wasteful as this season was when you take into consideration that the athletes on the actual ice wanted to compete, as they are paid handsomely to do, as opposed to pissing away their pride in worrying about the one-off probability of randomly picked ping pong balls. As someone who has made no shortage of tank jokes in silently taking slight solace in each loss, I can't possibly take umbrage with New Jersey playing out the stretch with professionalism, as the entire point of a draft lottery is that nothing is guaranteed. For that reason, I'll instead focus on the positives of a victory that could almost as easily end up netting the Devils the 1st overall pick as it does the 6th overall pick, and - speaking of both positives and 6th overall picks - there's no better place to start than Pavel Zacha...
It might just be one highlight that punctuated a late-season surge of point production that provided a market correction in helping suck the venom out of his snake-bitten early season stats, but it's one highlight that showcased the type of talent that's worth being perennially wrong about. It's only as likely that Pavel Zacha has finally figured it out as it is unlikely that he's finally figured it out. However, so long as the Devils don't let the second half of his season factor heavily into their decisions on offseason additions, it's impossible not to feel optimistic of what he was able to provide while flanked by underwhelming wingers in a depleted lineup. You don't put a defenseman like Aaron Ekblad on a leash and take him for a walk without having some top notch skill somewhere in a prototypical power forward's body. Whether it goes on to be realized is still the question, but it even being a question is credit to the middle six center-like qualities that Pavel Zacha was able to consistently show after the calendar flipped to 2019. Sadly, not too many of the young legs that the Devils called up to fill-in for the contagiously injured lower bodies in the lineup took off running with the opportunity, so it might be due to slim pickings that Nathan Bastian and his three goals in seven games (with 2 coming in the last game) stood out...
However, he's also someone who was exactly as advertised in bringing the type of physicality to the tough areas of the ice that is welcomed in every NHL locker room. It's not the bottom of the lineup that most concerns Devils' fans right now, but potentially being able to fill it from within - be it with Bastian, Rooney, or both - takes one more thing off the offseason checklist. Add in what was yet another stellar performance from Mackenzie Blackwood, until his defense decided to beat the bell in taking off for the summer early, and there were quite a few bright spots at the end of what's been a dark, dark road. Of course, none of them will blind fans to the absence of Jack Hughes and Kaapo Kakko if the draft lottery so happens to spite New Jersey in such a cruel fashion. Still, as far as potentially counterproductive victories are concerned, this one was a pretty solid reminder of why the entirety of the sky might not be on the verge of collapsing over the Prudential Center.
Unpredictability. If you had to boil the sports' world's universal appreciation for the NCAA tournament down to one characteristic, it would be unpredictability. It's called March Madness for a reason, and that reason is exemplified by the fact that you statistically have almost as good a chance of defending the rim of Zion Williamson as you do of picking the entire first round right. However, what's often lost in that unpredictability is the aspects of the game that are often responsible for it, with those primarily being unreliable/borderline incompetent officiating and the preposterous decision making of young players whose developing minds have a tendency to betray them during the most pressure-packed moments of their careers to date. The combination of those two things allowed for an ending so unsatisfying that it had some people putting aside the evidence of their eyeballs in proposing that one of the most obvious fouls you'll ever see should have been intentionally overlooked as a makeup non-call of sorts. The way I see it, however, is that putting forth a product whose amateurism is far more obvious competitively than it is fiscally is both a gift and a curse. I'd love to sit here and chastise the officials for having but a single eye open in missing a clear double dribble, just as I'd like to have reached through my TV and tugged the back of the jersey of Auburn's Samir Doughty as he performed a flying hump of Virginia's Kyle Guy before the ball had even left his hands. Unfortunately, the truth of the matter is that we've seen similar situations arise annually so to consider those wrongs anything other than part of the unprofessional package at this point would be a fool's errand. The fate of the Final Four being decided on the free throw line after a shooting foul on a shot that should have never been taken is clearly the worst case scenario. That said, it's those same moving parts that often make for the best case scenarios of unimaginable comebacks and buzzer-beating half court heaves. College basketball is flawed, in both supervision and sport. It would be disingenuous to only acknowledge that when we're left longing for a better ending, since we are so quick to ignore it when it gives us the most entertaining of endings. In theory, the amount of revenue generated should result in it being called correctly, but as it pertains to the oft-immature gameplay...well...you can't say the NCAA doesn't get what it pays for.
I get that the adrenaline that comes with playing a professional sport from above a 10-foot rim played a huge role in Corey Brewer bouncing right back up from a forceful 7.5 foot free fall onto the hardest of wood. It's just that now I need to assume that the man is incapable of spilling blood and the only thing coursing through his veins is adrenaline, because that recovery was quick enough to make Deadpool feel inferior as an immortal. The Kings' guard didn't just avoid serious injury while making the best possible argument on behalf of the legitimacy of a lay-up, he actually got up smiling and laughing as if what he just endured was a trip over his own shoelaces as opposed to an uncontrolled, one-story drop straight onto his shoulder blades. It's never a good sign when you get an official to leave behind his lack of bias and run over flailing his arms in playing the role of well-intentioned-but-entirely-unhelpful good samaritan. Yet, Corey Brewer blew straight through that sign like it was about as warranted as a crossing guard in the countryside of Kansas. Getting up and giving an entire arena that was collectively holding its breath a chance to exhale before it even came remotely close to becoming lightheaded might be the most athletically impressive thing he's accomplished throughout his career, and I promise that I don't even mean that as an insult. Dude plummeted from the sky like his chute malfunctioned in deployment and didn't so much as scratch up his pride, as if you needed another reminder (other than the fact that he was that high in the first place) that professional athletes are just built differently.
I mean, as the winners of something called the 'National Invitational Tournament', the Texas Longhorns aren't not National Champions. I don't know that the university to which Kevin Durant once devoted his amateur status should be claiming accolades that require a double negative as a qualifier, but hey - it's not up to us to set expectations for a once proud program that now considers technical titles to be the peak of their performance. Personally, I'd be a bit embarrassed to so publicly celebrate the highly undecorated honor of winning first runner-up to a 68 team tournament, but so long as it's also an admission that a Big 12 team has slowly sandbagged their way into considering a country-wide consolation bracket to be equitable competition then I'm cool with it. Texas might be "National Champions" in a way that makes last year's UCF football team feel like the gridiron Goliath of the universe by comparison, but they are still "National Champions" and there's no amount of sarcasm and shame you can send their way that will change their min...
If you want to tell me that Eric Bledsoe didn't waste any time in letting Joel Embiid get up under his skin and/or in his head, thus prompting an overreaction worthy of a dishonorable discharge then I wouldn't be at liberty to argue with you. However, if the return velocity on that passive aggressive serve is any indication then I'm willing to bet that not even a couple hours spent alone in the locker room reflecting on his ejection was enough to make him to regret it. You couldn't even sneak in a snap of the fingers before he whipped that ball back with the ferocity of someone who's been dreaming of the opportunity to bean the breath out of one of the sport's most incessant talkers, so you won't convince me that Eric Bledsoe wasn't more than satisfied with his efforts in calling it an early night. Take into account that Giannis proceeded to remind us of his status as the immaculate lovechild of freaks and Greeks in willing the Bucks to victory, and there was ultimately even less harm/foul attached to Eric Bledsoe's dedication to being defensive in flashing Gold Glove potential as a shortstop. Punishable by prompt removal, sure. However, you can't say that 2.5 minute performance was forgettable as he may have turned in the NBA's first Web Gem in pulling a hair trigger to "turn two" into the belly of one of basketball's biggest antagonists. Joel Embiid may have won the battle by suckering him into street clothes, but Eric Bledsoe won the WAR as his wins would be far above replacement had he shown that type of off-balance velocity and accuracy from the hot corner. The former got to stay in the game, but he would have been out in emasculating fashion had that game been kickball and he were running to first as opposed to running his mouth. Oddly enough, that might even have been a better fate...
I'm going to do something rare here and sympathize with this hottest of hot take...while wholeheartedly disagreeing with it. It's fairly obvious that James Harden is not, in fact, cheating the sport by being unstoppably good with the basketball in his hands. At worst, he's guilty of gamesmanship in finding slick and creative ways to draw contact, but to say someone is "manipulating the game" to their advantage is essentially the same thing as saying that they are successfully strategizing. I feel like a professional broadcaster, whether he's justified in being bored by it or not, should probably know that not to be illegal. James Harden is also not playing a style that even a handful of players could match at if simply given the opportunity. Like him or not, a lefty that can shoot the lights out, ball handle in a phone booth, and stop-n-start on a dime in efficiently creating open opportunities for himself and his teammates while going one-on-five against a set defense is entirely unprecedented. James Harden is not the best or most well-rounded player in the world, but he is far and away the greatest at what he does. Now, if you wanted to tell me that what James Harden primarily does is rack up nearly 40 points and 8 assists a night in a way that is nonsensically frustrating to follow then I'd give you a kiss smack dab in the middle of the forehead, for I'd love where your head was at. Even though I was shaking my head at the ridiculous words coming out of the mouth of the Clippers' announcer, I sympathized with the spiteful spirit of them as I too was growing increasingly annoyed while watching the Rockets. Aesthetically pleasing, James Harden's game is not, which is perplexing given how often we applaud the insane offensive efforts of particular players. Point being, Don MacLean is way off base in implying that one of the most unique scorers of all time isn't playing basketball, as if he's out there kicking the ball into the hoop while beating off defenders with an L-shaped stick. However, if he softened that stance by saying that one of the most unique scorers of all time isn't playing the type of team basketball that most want to watch for more than five minutes at a time then he might just be on to something. As good as Harden is, nothing he does - over, and over, and over again - can fully make up for the stagnancy of the other nine, routinely statuesque players on the court when, by design, he goes full-AAU in dribbling the ball with the ferocity of someone trying to dig their way to China. That, of course, is most certainly not his damn problem, as he should do whatever the hell it takes to will Houston to victory. However, it's certainly not surprising that it has drawn some overboard opinions along the way, as the only thing more irrationally infuriating than an unsightly brand of basketball is one that also consistently works.
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It would be pretty easy to dismiss these accusations as entirely illegitimate. After all, they are coming from someone who is either rightfully or wrongfully perceived by many as a guy who traded in his athletic career for the ability to properly celebrate 4/20 without fear of the NFL's fun police interrupting the party with a pee cup...
On top of that, it seems beyond even the loosest constraints of reality that a head coach of a professional football team could operate for nearly a decade before a single player spoke publicly to his inability to hold a quality conversation with a black player. That being said, if you keep in mind that the source staunchly removed prejudice from the equation and focus on the phrase "socially awkward" as opposed to "uncomfortable", I could see how one might find Jason Garrett's personality to be off-putting. It definitely feels like this is a thought that David Irving took some liberties with after smoking himself retired, but we are talking about a guy who is constantly caught unconditionally clapping on the sidelines as if he were trying to applaud away his anxiety. I hardly think it's crazy to consider that his communication skills might be slightly lost in translation when crossing cultural boundaries. The racial undertones of this allegation make it a much more problematic proclamation, but every head coach has his pros and cons and it's not like Jason Garrett was ever anywhere to be seen on any non-family member's list of five people they'd love to have dinner with. Therefore, judging strictly off his sideline mannerisms, I could imagine there being a small hint of truth to him suffering through more uncommonly prolonged silences amongst those with which he lacks a common ground - be they black, white, or creative in game-planning. Of course, as evidenced by the claim of jealousy at the end of that video, I could also see David Irving being full of something that has a more distinct smell than smoke, so I'm just going to assume it's some relatively harmless combination of the two.
Well, for what it's worth, this is going to make for a hell of a Netflix documentary that should prove rewatchable whenever you need to feel better about your own egregious missteps in organization. Granted, what it's worth to the players that made it all possible is whatever it costs to get them back home healthy, so this dumpster Fyre of an inevitable drownfall is far less comical now than it was when players' lives/livelihoods were only being put at risk on the field...
Still, as a preposterously bad planner, I am personally appreciative of a "business model" that gives me a lifetime supply of comparative peace of mind. After all, the lack of foresight and funding that went into a league that apparently assumed the NFL - yes, that NFL - was going to be economically accommodating in bailing their ass out makes Ja Rule look like a capable financial adviser, so what do I have to worry about? The truth is, while the victims in this case are exponentially less enjoyable to mock, the AAF is somehow trying to divert and dodge more liability than Fyre Fest and managed to put themselves on a grander stage from which to do so. Don't let the idea that a bunch of mediocre football games did actually go off without a hitch distract you from that fact. 'The Alliance' has done the near impossible in making 'The Shield' look remotely good at insuring the best interesting of the athletes employed under it. That should be a felony of a crime in and of itself. That's why I can't wait until the lawsuits really start flying and someone much more coordinated than myself can get to filming on the story of a colossal fuck-up of a football league that both physically and fiscally did far more harm than good. Sucking everyone damn near dry, and didn't even have the courtesy to employ a blowjob guy to do the dirty work. For shame...
At the risk of turning up the water pressure in showering Gregg Popovich with the unconditional praise that seems to roll off his back just about any time he opens his mouth, be it as an endearing grandfather figure or an grumpy old man, I must say that he handled that perfectly. Of course, I speak not of the mildly contentious interaction that got him dismissed with the quickness of an alcoholic during Communion by an overreactive official that was clutching his pearls so tightly you'd think his house had been broken into and his favorite ensemble was at risk. Rather, I speak of the sarcastic way in which he went about addressing it. It takes a severe lack of fucks to set an NBA record in the race "up to here" on a referee, so I highly doubt the aftermath was all that calculated. Regardless, Pop being more than gracious in defeat while roping the winning coach into a comedy bit of which the punchline was the absurdity of his instant ejection gets the same point across as setting $25,000 on fire by spewing spite through the media. Maybe there's still a fine coming his way, maybe there's not. Fact remains that it's tough not to be swayed into believing he was in the right by the smirk that crept across your face while watching him perform satire with a respected peer of an opponent. He doesn't always care enough to display the type of veteran savvy from which the Golden State Warriors should take notes in his dealings with the people he unquestionably considers professional inconveniences. However, when he does he sure has a way of reminding us why we're so quick to give him the benefit of the doubt when he doesn't.
NBCS- In the wake of the replay, Brenly went on about how “Machado, one day, is gonna pull one of his hijinks on the wrong guy and he’s gonna get dropped in his tracks, and he’s gonna deserve it,” as Berthiaume threw in a some “yeahs!” Brenly again called it “all such a bush league act.” They went on to talk about how Machado will always be the villain and “we just saw why.”
After the play was over and the next batter came to the plate, the camera focused on Machado in the dugout and Berthiaume offered a disgusted “300 million dollars!” while Brenly offered another “just a tired act.” They showed the replay again, and this time, from the center field angle, it was plainly obvious that the near-bump between the Machado and Murphy was accidental (Machado reacted in surprise and pulled back when he realized he was near Murphy) yet Brenly called at as if it were on purpose, adding a disgusted “and just to make sure, tosses the bat near his feet” as if this were some premeditated crime. ------- Seeing as we're talking about someone whose laziness leapt clear over the language barrier he tried to blame it on when - during the playoffs, no less - he decided to renounce trying hard as something that's just not part of his game, I have no problem with labeling Manny Machado as bush league. The guy has done some scummy shit over the years to earn that reputation, so it will rightfully precede him as he continues to get paid hundreds of millions of dollars to casually trot the base paths throughout the remainder of his laughably lucrative career. That being said, can we at least let him come remotely close to earning his scathing reviews before anyone publicly goes scorched earth on every fiber of his existence as a professional athlete? Just take another look at this "bush league" play that had Diamondbacks' announcers speaking of Manny Machado as if they were disavowing the devil himself...
There's just no way you can convince me that every unoriginal insult they directed at the opposition's most polarizing player wasn't read ruthlessly from their game notes, as if they've had it prepped on the tip of their tongue since they first took a gander at the schedule. Again, I'm all for a little Manny Machado hate, but all jumping the gun does is ruin the novelty of the unrelentingly repressed reaction when he is actually is being an asshole. So I plead, just give it time. It'll come, I promise. There's no way someone with such an apathetic personality gets guaranteed that amount of money and continues to give whatever small amount of fucks he did prior. He's entirely capable of going full 'Big Daddy' and tossing the stick at the feet of an unknowing opponent in hopes of tripping him. Therefore, there was no reason for the Diamondbacks' broadcast team to get ahead of themselves as the boys who cried bush league when an incident that's actually inexcusable is inevitably right around the corner that Manny Machado is slow to "accelerate" through. |
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