Pat Riley Called Tom Thibodeau A 'Motherf---er' Before Hanging Up On Him, So I Guess So You Could Say Jimmy Butler Trade Talks Are Going As Expected
You know, when the Jimmy Butler saga eventually ends, it's going to be a sad, sad day for those of us drawn in by the sheer absurdity of it all. Luckily for us, there doesn't appear to be a conclusion in sight as this has already gone on far longer than any competent organization would have let it.
I mean, if there were ever a sign that stubbornness and stupidity were going to somehow keep this thing alive and kicking into the regular season, it's the swindler or all swindlers finding himself flat out offended by the last second demands of a Head Coach whose leverage is laughable at best. Pat Riley, more so than anyone, knows the NBA's tricks of the trade. As someone whose position typically holds as firmly as a hairstyle that's more recently turned gray than it has budged, he's well aware of how much of a stickler you have to be when acting in the best interests of your organization. In short, it's no small feat to get him to let out a "MOTHERFUCKER!" that rings as loudly as the ensuing dial tone. Something tells me there is absolutely nothing that the most cunning of snake-oil salesmen enjoys more than talking his way into getting what he wants, no matter how long it takes, so the fact that he took his pride and went home with one spike of the receiver speaks volumes of the tone-deafness of Tom Thibodeau.
To be fair, nothing is done until it's actually done and I don't know that Josh Richardson, an overweight Dion Waiters with injury issues, and a protected first round pick are a fantastic return for a second tier NBA star. However, if that's what was agreed to then it's pure lunacy to think Jimmy Butler somehow increased in value by continuing to take his own team's lunch money. There's absolutely no logic to wasting time upping the price when your store is being set on fire...which is good news for those of us hoping to see the full array of ways in which Jimmy Butler can bully around an entire NBA organization one day at a time.
Jimmy Butler Led A Players-Only Meeting In Which He Unveiled That He Plans To Play Alongside The Guys He Completely Emasculated Yesterday
I'm of absolutely no illusion that it will lead to the Minnesota Timberwolves coming together as a competitive team that lives up to it's potential by becoming harder to play against, but goddamn do I love what Jimmy Butler is doing. I don't know that I totally respect the calculated way in which he made sure ESPN was present when he walked the talk in wiping his feet all over the franchise, but I sure do enjoy it a hell of a lot more than a run-of-the-mill holdout.
For everything Jimmy Butler's actions of the last two days are not - such as a decent way to build any chemistry whatsoever, for example - what the complete emasculation of the most prominent pushovers on the team he apparently plans to play for was is the ultimate in making lemonade out of lemons. Screw the bitterness that will clearly continue to exist in Minnesota, because there's nothing sweeter to an NBA player than having free reign over the entirety of a locker room in which his days are numbered. Jimmy Butler basically bullied his way into the position of player-coach, and not one of the handful of people he dunked on in the process even thought about putting a hand up to protect their personal pride...
There is approximately a zero percent chance that calling a supremely talented 7-footer Charmin soft to his face in front of his peers is what gets his balls to drop for the betterment of the team, but winning a bunch of games got scraped as an initiative the second Jimmy Butler smacked around the starters while playing alongside glorified ballboys. The Timberwolves aren't going anywhere with or without Jimmy Butler, but he'll be damned if he's not the one to drag their asses begrudgingly to irrelevance so long as the organization (or more accurately, Tom Thibodeau) stubbornly keeps him on board.
Kevin Durant and New York City. Other than literally everything, what can possibly go wrong! Honestly, it's basically straight out of a rom-com, if said rom-com's plot was that a gorgeous girl with insatiable self-esteem issues locks eyes with a brash bro who is as demanding as he is desperate, and they spend a couple sequels completely undermining a volatile relationship that lasts way longer than its expiration date.
To be clear, as someone who loathes both Kevin Durant's "woe is me" insistence that everyone is out to get him and the undeserved entitlement of everyone invested in New York sports, there is absolutely nothing I'd love more than to see the two wed in a holy hell of a matrimony. I don't even know which party would be the most likely to start the sports' media equivalent of the drunken argument in the middle of the bar, but I do know I'd enjoy watching from the end of it.
Let's not forget, Kevin Durant had to turn into a relentless internet troll to handle the insanely predictable scrutiny that came of coasting to the stage to accept back-to-back Finals MVP trophies. Yet he, of all people, is going to the be the one that walks into the literary lion's den that is Madison Square Garden and tames the beast? Quite possibly the most thin-skinned superstar we've ever laid eyes on is going to be the one to bring glory back to the Mecca of basketball? I certainly hope Kevin Durant learns how to walk on water, because that's what it will take for him to calm the storm and avoid drowning under a tidal wave of takes.
We are talking about a guy that found his feathers ruffled by the Oklahoma City media on multiple occasions, and the general disposition of the New York media is like that of the Oklahoma City media if they were denied food and water for a week in which they were going through drug withdrawals. There ain't anywhere near enough meat on his bones for Kevin Durant to survive getting chewed up and spit about by the city that's never sleeps comfortably when it comes to its sports team. Especially since the sports team he's rumored to have considered joining is under the type of ass-backwards ownership that could ruin a wet dream.
Jimmy Butler Called Out Teammates, Coaches, And Executives As He Asked To Play With The 3rd String And Beat The Starters At T'Wolves Practice
As someone who stands to gain very little from the Minnesota Timberwolves' organization maintaining a healthy working environment that allows for players and coaches to build positive professional relationships, I must say that I'm officially all-in on them dragging their feet in Jimmy Butler trade talks. Of all the teams with which the type of workaholic prick that could make Kobe Bryant proud (and I mean that in the most complimentary way possible) has been rumored to play this upcoming season, none of them sound anywhere as enticing from an entertainment standpoint as the one with which he despises absolutely everyone.
Honestly, I can't believe there is not one video accompanying the setting of a scene that sounds equal parts awkward, inspiration, and foolhardy, but if there was then I'd have to imagine it would look something like this...
...or even this...
And the truly crazy thing is that the Timberwolves have the one Head Coach and/or President of Basketball Operations in all the NBA that's stubborn enough not to roll the credits on the Jimmy Butler era in Minnesota after he went scorched earth on the organization. Tom Thibodeau is the same guy that encouraged the tireless tyrant of a teammate in Chicago, so starting a Jimmy Butler-led third string to open the season is only as unlikely as him being moved for any less than he's worth.
I'm starting to think it's not completely crazy to envision a scenario where this long overdue breakup doesn't happen until midseason, and that possibility is completely crazy in and of itself. The first practice and Jimmy Butler has already indignantly given a voice to his one man mutiny from within the franchise that it's against. I don't know where things go from there, but for the sake of the NBA as a soap opera, I hope the next few episodes of As The Ball Bounces continue to be set at Timberwolves' training camp, because damn...
Malik Monk Went To Check-In To The Hornets' Preseason Game, Only To Learn That He Forgot To Put On His Jersey
Preseason baby, can you feel the excitement?!? It's a new season, and though the games don't count for a damn thing yet, it's almost as of the players can't even think straight due to their anxiousness to run back out on the hardwood and go through the motions of largely meaningless basketball! I mean, what other reason could Malik Monk possibly have for forgetting to put on his uniform than the unadulterated elation that proceeds a professional athlete's participation in a glorified scrimmage?
What's that you say? Sheer apathy? A lack of motivation resulting in laughable preparation? A clear indifference to being ready to get some largely irrelevant run? Nope, that doesn't sound right. Not in my NBA are there players who can't possibly care enough to remember to properly dress themselves until the wins and losses have consequences. Malik Monk was just too amped to get some preseason action, just like everyone of his peers that have argued on behalf of shortening the regular season.
The Internet Wants You To Believe That The Kobe Bryant/Matt Barnes GIF Is A Farce, Which Is Only Mildly True
First and foremost, fuck the internet and it's inability to leave well enough alone. There was nothing more well enough than the perfect two-second encapsulation of Kobe Bryant's indomitable desire to do nothing more than defecate all over the will of every opponent that crossed his path. The fact that we're now questioning the legitimacy of that clip by way of the most egregious case of what's become social media's most obnoxious habit - the "well, actually..." - more than eight years after the fact is as belated and unnecessary as it is a huge stretch.
Admittedly, the above angle does take some of shine off what was a glowing example of the serpent-like cold-bloodedness of the Black Mamba. The infamous GIF makes it seems as though Kobe Bryant refused to so much as react when eskimo-kissed by the Spalding that was relentless in coming onto him with the quickness, and apparently that's not the whole truth.
That said, it's definitely not entirely false. If you're ready to denounce Kobe Bryant's casually stoic non-reaction to having a basketball thrust full force within a couple centimeters of his face just because said face was slightly off-center at the time then you have a half-witted understanding of human instincts. The average asshole would be sitting on his if any projectile came that close to contact, so let's slow down in acting as if our sports' worlds were just shattered by a small variance in vantage point.
Even more to the point, to believe that GIF was the solely the result of convenient camera work you'd have to believe that Matt Barnes, a player prideful enough to leave training camp and speed 95 miles to beat the piss out of the former teammate that was courting his estranged wife, has sat silently by for damn near a decade letting his entire existence get mocked by millions for a momentary misunderstanding...
Since that one instance is far from being the only time in which Kobe Bryant led us to believe he was a goddamn lunatic, I'm going to continue viewing that confrontation the same way it was always meant to be viewed, as a face-to-face failed attempt to intimidate a person who trained himself to kill the spirit of his competition.
To be honest, I resent the internet for shamelessly trying to make me think otherwise.
It Appears That Tristan Thompson Is Going To Ride The Cavaliers' Streak As Eastern Conference Champs Until The Wheels Fall Off
That answer is a lot of things. It's delusional. It's disingenuous. It's ungrateful. On the set of the 14th television show that he's decided to produce in the three months that have passed since taking his talents to Hollywood, sits the best player-agent in NBA history. If only for a quick second, LeBron's bullshit alarm had to go off when he heard Tristan Thompson boast as confidently as he would have if he were still being dragged along as an anchor on the S.S. James. For, if nothing else, that response was completely ignorant of all that 'The King' had done in knighting an otherwise replaceable peasant as part of his royal family of overpaid underlings for so many years.
All that being said, I kind of respect how shameless Tristan Thompson was in coming face-to-face with a harsh reality and spitting between its eyes. As silly as he sounds, that quote also serves as one of the last soundbites we'll ever care to transcribe from the mouth of a largely antiquated role player on a team that instantly became below average. Might as well go out with a bang!
It's not fair to say he's grasping at straws, because he's really only grasping at one straw...and it happens to be the flimsy kind that splits down the side when you slam it on the table to remove the wrapper. That doesn't change the idea that, factually speaking, you're the reigning champs all the way up until you're not. Contrary to the confidence in his voice, Tristan Thompson doesn't believe for one second that the Cavaliers are contenders in an Eastern Conference that somehow stumbled it's way into having a little intrigue for the first time since LeBron James legally indulged in an oaky glass of red. Luckily, he doesn't even have to soak in each and every one of his psuedo-second-hand successes until they run dry.
Kevin Durant Has Convinced Himself That The Only Reason He Doesn't Win ALL The Awards Is Because People Hate Him And The Warriors
There is exactly one way in which a deserving professional athlete can guarantee that he/she doesn't win a league-wide award that is voted on by (relatively) respected journalists. Unfortunately for Kevin Durant, I can promise you that it's not by sharing the stage with other great players while playing for a team that's as shamelessly stacked as they are incredibly easy to hate. Never mind the fact that the Defensive Player of the Year isn't decided by a twitter poll, because what gives me the most comfort in believing that merit actually has the biggest impact on NBA accolades is that the same trophy that's being whined about currently resides in the home of the Golden State Warrior who happens to be infamous for causing testicular trauma. Not for nothing, but the "they just don't like us" argument is easier to pick apart than Kevin Durant's repugnant personality when Draymond Green is merely a year removed from dick-kicking his way to DPOY honors while wearing the same damn jersey.
The truth is, the only way to guaranteed you don't get nominated as the Defensive Player Of The Year (other than by simply not being the best defensive player during any given year) is to imply that all the voters are vindictive jerks that cast bullshit ballots that are based entirely on their subjective feelings towards a team and player that are constantly getting their asses powdered with objective praise. You want "pure hate" then you got it, because the only characteristic that experts are now going to take more notice of while watching Kevin Durant is that he's an entitled baby with a self-worth that still hasn't been satisfied by going back-to-back in winning MVP of the NBA Finals.
Seriously, is the second best player in the NBA ever going to be happy with his standing amongst his peers? As nonsensical as it may be, I'd offer Kevin Durant The Sixth Man Of The Year, The Comeback Player Of The Year, and The Rookie Of The Year if it meant that he would just shut the hell up for a few short months and accept that not even the most devout hater (that he's actively encouraging with his bitching above, mind you) can take away all that he's earned. The dude is flat out delusional is he thinks those affiliated with the league he's running through on cruise control is conspiring against him, though I guess spending six hours a day arguing with teenage internet trolls will do that to a professional athlete that's as thin-skinned as he is insufferable.
Michael Beasley Dropped Some A+ Stoner Logic When Pressed On The Lakers' Expectations For Themselves
We have all been there. By "we" I obviously mean anyone that has shared a dingy off-campus college house with a roommate who had an iron lung for some half-baked botany, and by "there" I mean sitting on the couch next to him/her after returning from sleeping through some low-level lecture with one eye open.
Most of time the ensuing conversations resulted in non-sensical drivel that reminded you that your mind wasn't anywhere near altered enough to entertain the disjointed rumblings of the spaciest of cadets. For example...
Those rare instances, however, in which either dumb luck or a creative thought process led the faded philosophizing of a stoner into the type of payoff that made humoring a high person totally worth it. For example....
For all his warts as an intellectual, Michael Beasley basically dropped the mic when he responded with "...the future". I'm honestly shocked that the reporter kept pressing for some purposeless playoff prognostication when it was clear that he had already gotten the perfect response from the imperfect source. That was more of a touche-esque cue to press stop on the recorder than Michael Beasley grabbing said recorder and trying to MacGyver a one-hitter out of it, so the fact that it went down hill from there is a indictment of the media member and no one else.
Anyway, it's pretty clear that it's going to take a lot more than playing next to LeBron James to get Michael Beasley to play in the mud of premature predictions...even if MUD is the nickname given to him and his more, shall we say, eccentric teammates by LeBron James...
On This Episode Of 'As The Basketball Bounces', A Beef Emerges Featuring Jimmy Butler, Andrew Wiggins, His Brother, And Stephen Jackson
Jimmy Butler asks for trade:
Andrew Wiggins' brother thanks the Lord for said upcoming trade:
Jimmy Butler responds to Andrew Wiggins and his brother:
Stephen Jackson randomly inserts himself, because...well...he's Stephen Jackson:
Andrew Wiggins responds to Stephen Jackson:
Stephen Jackson reminds Andrew Wiggins who he's talking to:
Stephen Jackson and Andrew Wiggins' brother (the two parties not in the NBA) continue to go back and forth:
I would be willing to bet that no one would have guessed that as the plot line to the season premiere of the soap opera that is the NBA, and that is why it's the best reality show running. I mean, even the most creative writer of basketball fan fiction couldn't have Mad Lib'd together a more random cast of characters. Andrew Wiggins' brother? Stephen Jackson? Who knew when that headline generating wheel got spun that it was set to land on something so fortunate!?
Anyway, it's only episode one and it already looks as though we are in for another hysterical year of drama, passive aggression, and the type of entertainment that sports' fans will never admit is only the removal of one round ball away from being fitting of the family of shamelessly narcissistic women that NBA players pass around on the side. It's only mid-September and we're already right back in the thick of petty things with a beef that was apparently just tossed in the middle of the yard for all NBA passer-bys to prey on. If nothing else, the Association sure knows how to organically drum up both a feeding frenzy and an appetite for intrigue.
Now, I don't know that I totally side with Jimmy Butler in this, as he seems like the kind of overly demanding co-worker that has everyone else talking trash about him behind his back at the work happy hour. To put it lightly, it doesn't speak greatly of a player's personality when someone randomly alleges that he may've boned a teammates' girlfriend out of on-court spite and it doesn't seem incredibly far fetched...
That said, I do love that in Jimmy Butler resides the old school mentality and attitude that some kids these days can't quite comprehend. He's close to being the last of a dying breed when it comes to working his balls off and actually saying whatever it is that he thinks, as opposed to inferring it on the internet...
That endears him to those whose athletic twilight is currently keeping the lights on for The Big 3, but it leaves those who were but a glimmer in their parents' eyes at the time in need of a coddling. There's just not a more volatile combination than the late first round pick who rounded himself into a star and a bust of a lottery pick, especially when the former sees the latter as an entitled waste of the talent he wishes he had.
Fortunately for the casual fan, that type of volatility attracts unexpected on-lookers and adds a little spice to the type of social media (ab)use that we will continue to eat up, as it satisfies our hunger for both basketball and it's shameless bullshit. The NBA news' cycle is about to speed up. However, as we sit here in the slow traffic of the offseason, I am now super excited to see whether or not Stephen Jackson catches Andrew Wiggins in it and teaches someone who doesn't truly respect the game a thing or two about respecting his elders. Hopefully we get an update during episode two.
The Timberwolves Are Throwing It Back With Their Classic All-Black Uniforms On A Limited Basis, Which Begs Only One Question...
I don't want to act ungrateful here, as welcoming back the jersey that prime KG made famous is an overwhelmingly joyous event, but since "they're back", I am sort of left wondering where the hell they went in the first place. This shouldn't even be a "you don't know what you got 'til it's gone" situation, because those babies never went out of style. Sort of feels like someone with too much of a say couldn't see the forest through all those identical little trees when it came to fashion, because it's inexcusable how long I've been pining for the return of one of the most intimidating jerseys in NBA history.
For those that haven't resigned to a lifetime of TimberWolves fandom (aka unrelenting disappointment), try to remember one memorable set of threads they've worn since off the top of your head and then try to tell me it's not a crime against merchandising that the NBA equivalent of the blacked out Ravens' jersey flew the nest a full decade ago.
Nostalgia is admittedly playing into my faux fury here, as the all-black #21 hung in my childhood closet, but what do you want me to do? Twelve year old me would punch me in the arm and run away when I turned around if I didn't defend the honor of the jersey he wore (far too many times) well past it's presumed death. As well he should, because the only thing that should be brought back on a limited basis is the largely offensive offensive philosophy that Minnesota subscribed to last season. The classic throwback jersey, on the other hand, it can stay for as long as it would like.
P.S. Could they really not find one actual player to model these things? Kind of kills the buzz of the pump-up music and the howl to have the camera focused on an inanimate arm socket as it plays.
I typically subscribe to the philosophy of letting children win in situations where guaranteeing their happiness is the easiest way to steer clear of headaches and maintain a moderate amount of peace and quiet. That said, I totally understand where this daycare worker was coming from in going to the rim with reckless abandon, as he spends all day carefully maneuvering around the fragile moods of young minds. If only for his own sanity, he needed to mix things up to assert his dominance.
Just like most things, the destruction of Pre-K confidence is better in moderation. Judging from the outfit change, that 8-10 play compilation was formed over the course of at least two days. Therefore, as far as I can tell, 'Kindergarten Kobe' was responsible in how often he called his own number. At least I hope that was the case, as the execution of no killer crossover, electric euro-step, devastating dunk, sadistic strip, or bullying block is worth dealing with the cries of tired and defeated children.
This may come as a huge shocker, but I haven't exactly been keeping up the state of the WNBA as of late. Therefore, it speaks even more to Diana Taurasi's level of dominance that even I know that you put yourself at the absolute highest risk of getting pecked to death if you ruffle her feathers. Some athletes just play better when they are pissed off, and it's not all that much of a coincidence that it typically happens to be those that are pretty damn good without a vendetta to fulfill. I think the 3-time champ and 4-time Olympic gold medalist whose undefeated in single elimination games 14 seasons into her professional career fits the bill as the type of bear you're better off not poking on a basketball court.
If I had Courtney Williams contact information for some strange reason, I might suggest to her to look into how "successful" Lance Stephenson has been at trying to get under the skin of LeBron James, for I'm pretty sure the WNBA's all-time leading scorer is pretty close to the female equivalent. Diana Taurasi is (::rubs eyes in order to believe what's being seen and Googles for clarification::) 36 years of age, and therefore she's too damn old to responding to petty, millennial bullshit with anything other than her play. Somehow, her play is damn near as good as it's ever been, so the person whose clap is most likely to turn out the lights on your season probably wouldn't be the fight I'd pick if I planned on winning it.
Just In Case You Weren't Yet Tired Of The Warriors Winning, Here's Boogie Cousins Knocking Down 20 Straight Threes In The Midst Of His Rehab
I'm not yet ready to make any declarative statements about how well an All-NBA talent like DeMarcus Cousins is recovering a from a devastating knee injury that has prematurely undercut promising careers of players whose size didn't make them anywhere near as difficult to stabilize. After all, while the consistently with which he did so is impressive, all he really did was knock down a bunch of uncontested threes from a balanced position that he likely wouldn't be privy to during an actual game. That's not quite enough for me to definitively say he's well on his way back to being one of the most dominant and versatile big men in all of basketball.
That said, it is more than enough for me to direct an inquisitive glare back at those that tried desperately to downplay the back-to-back champs adding a 5th superstar by questioning both his health and his fit. Again, I'm not saying this video should change anyone's stance on a free agent signing that is a long way from being proven impactful. However, if those that were skeptical plan on changing their tune then now would be the time, as DeMarcus Cousins clearly hasn't lost the type of touch that the Warriors best know how to weaponize. If absolutely nothing else, watching a near 7-footer who was assumed to still be about 5 months away from NBA action rip twine twenty times in a row is a reason to reexamine the idea that his addition to a team that's only increased their lead on the rest of the field this offseason isn't that big of a deal. So speak now or forever hold both your peace and your piece, as - at the very least - Boogie appears to have taken a couple steps towards dancing on graves and delivering detractors a blow to their gut feeling that would make Draymond Green blush.
The Toronto Raptors Have Hired Kawhi Leonard's Version Of A BFF, Jeremy Castleberry, Away From The San Antonio Spurs
ESPN- The Toronto Raptors are hiring San Antonio Spurs staffer Jeremy Castleberry -- a close friend of Kawhi Leonard -- to a position on their coaching staff, league sources told ESPN.
Castleberry has worked with Leonard as a Spurs staffer and played with Leonard in high school and at San Diego State, where he was a walk-on.
Leonard can test free agency in the summer of 2019, so Raptors president of basketball operations Masai Ujiri took significant risk with the transaction. Ujiri made the deal with a determination that he can convince Leonard to re-sign with the Raptors next summer in free agency, sources told ESPN's Adrian Wojnarowski.
Hiring Castleberry certainly won't hurt Toronto's chances of keeping Leonard.
Not only am I not mad at this move, but I don't even really understand how you could be. Some might not appreciate what it says how much power star players have in the NBA. However, we're talking about a player who seemingly has the affability of a DMV employee, so when you're a team that needs to keep him at all costs, the price of one of the few people who crosses the right wires in fitting his description of "friend" is a relatively small cost of doing business. The addition of Jeremy Castleberry is far from the skeleton key to the smallest of emotional lockboxes that resides where Kawhi Leonard's heart is supposed to be, as he was just hired away from the same team with which no love, or something like it, was lost. That said, there's only many avenues you can explore when trying to appease someone who is about as outspoken (both verbally and nonverbally) as a stone sculpture of himself, and this was just about the most obvious road to go down.
Now, as for how I feel about Kawhi Leonard getting people both fired (Bruce Bowen) and hired (Jeremy Castleberry) with his muted immaturity, I say only the following. He damn well better take the floor looking like the top-five player he was the last time he left it. Keeping multiple organizations on edge in the way that makes an angry girlfriend who repeatedly insists that she's "fine" seem candid by comparison is mildly acceptable behavior from someone who changes the entire landscape of the preeminent players' league when he's at his best. I just think there should rightfully be a little skepticism as to whether or not that's what the Raptors will be getting out of a guy who has had more occupational buckets kicked than those he's actually made over the last seven months.
Whether the Spurs misdiagnosed his injury or not, his family-fueled frustration crossed over into what can only be described as a bratty display of bullshit months ago. If only because nothing silences the critics like winning, I hope he proves he was worth the hassle. He's already made some people forget exactly how good he was, and reminding them is jut about the only thing that will stop him from getting chastised for holding a significant portion of the league hostage with his hesitancy to so much as speak.
I don't want to be too harsh, so I won't say that becoming the target of a random joke made out of nowhere by a largely political comedian/late night host is the defining moment of Dwight Howard's career. I will, however, say that if someone comes up to you 20 years from now and asks you what they need to know about an athlete who was so enigmatic as both a player and a personality that his issues overshadowed his HOF-quality resume then you'd be better off pointing them in the direction of this clip rather than any one of the many basketball highlights that he has to his name.
Like John Oliver or not, you can't really argue that he's got a firm grasp on what's funny, as having his own shown on HBO is proof that he's pretty damn successful as a comedian. Therefore, the fact that he could derive material from the career of Dwight Howard, when Dwight Howard wasn't a particularly topical story, speaks to Dwight Howard aging far better as a punchline than as a prominent interior presence. Even finding a slightly original way to mock someone whose career path is a joke that has now long written itself is both impressive....and possibly proof that said career path might actually lead to a bottomless well of laughs to be had at its expense.
Jimmy Butler Heard About It From Dwyane Wade After Getting A Bit Froggish In Gabrielle Union's IG Comments
I'm 96% sure this was all in jest, as Jimmy Butler and Dwyane Wade are former teammates whose friendship was strengthened by getting the hell out of Chicago. That doesn't make publicly salivating over another man's gorgeous wife any less of a no-no, but nothing short of an unsolicited dick pic is breaking the type of bond formed by two grown men who sing K-Ci & JoJo together...
That said, for those of you whose platonic relationships aren't reinforced by belting out 90's R&B ballads, I warn you not to try what Jimmy Butler did at home. To be safe, I'd steer clear of commenting on the appearance of your friends' wives and girlfriends on the internet all together. However, if you absolutely must, then stick to harmless, non-sexualized terms like "pretty" that can't be read into and definitely, definitely do not post them under pictures in which their nipples look to be slicing clear through your computer screen.
In fairness, "WELL DAMN" is just about the only fitting comment to leave on that picture of Gabrielle Union presumably air-drying after a dip in Dwyane's cold tub. Unfortunately, similar phrasing is also fit to catch you an all-time ass-whooping at the BBQ if the person hosting it doesn't see you as close to him just like his mother, father, sister, or brother.
NYPost- NBA journeyman J.J. Redick claims he freaked after seeing a woman apparently being caged under a blanket in the back of his car service in Manhattan, prompting him to jump out and call cops.
Redick shared the story on his “The J.J. Redick Podcast” on Thursday, saying it happened Wednesday after he had done a photo shoot for the fashion line Mr. Porter.
The former Duke University and current Philadelphia 76ers guard said he was with his wife, Chelsea, and sister-in-law Kylee as they got into the Cadillac Escalade livery cab arranged by Mr. Porter.
As they motored through Manhattan, Kylee became “pale as a ghost” because she said someone was in the vehicle’s back storage area, according to Redick.
They demand the driver pull over, saying they saw a child or small woman in back, according to the hoopster. The driver then sped off, leaving Redick and his party on the sidewalk.
Redick, 34, said he called the NYPD.
The player later called the car service to complain — and was told the driver had been disciplined for bringing along another passenger in the front seat, according to Redick. There was no mention of any woman in the trunk, he said.
“So, possible scenarios here: I think best-case for everyone involved is that maybe his sister or his cousin, or maybe a girlfriend or wife needed a ride across town and they didn’t want to pay for an Uber or taxi. That’s probably best-case scenario,” Redick speculated.
“And then from there you can go darker. This is not funny, but child abduction, human trafficking. Like, Chelsea’s dead serious texting me today and she’s like, ‘I’m calling the FBI tip line and I’m opening a claim. This is serious.’ I don’t know what to make of it. It definitely was not a dog. I will say that. It was a human being in the back seat of his car, under a blanket in some sort of box or cage. That’s my story.”
I'll tell you what, there's not all that many things that could get me to change my "sit down and shut up" approach to using ridesharing services, but I think that potentially being seen as an accomplice to human trafficking is on the short list of social infractions that could get me to begrudgingly start up a dialogue. I've always maintained that it's none of my business what my affordable and conveniently contracted chauffeurs keep in their car, but an unlawfully imprisoned man, woman, or child might just challenge that theory, as it seems like a pretty big problem to bring to work with you. If J.J. Redick knew his mode of transportation was going to have him at risk of running into people being treated as rabid animals regardless, he might have opted to take the subway where riding along to such a thing wouldn't make him a witness to a felony. Therefore, the least his driver could have done was offered him an undoubtedly unsatisfactory explanation for the jailed stranger clanging around under a blanket in the back seat.
I don't go less than 5-stars often, but making me remove both headphones is at least a 2-star penalty, whereas turning me into the lifeguard in an Uber Pool is at least a 1-star deduction. Assuming the Sixers' guard and his lady were offered Aquafina's upon entry, that's a 2-star experience at best, and seeing as there was no mention of a water dish in the back, that's the furthest thing from a safe assumption.
Did The Timberwolves Pass On Steph Curry Because He Wouldn't Be Able To Golf Enough For His Liking In Minnesota? Maybe Yes, Definitely No.
CBSSports- Curry went seventh overall in that draft, behind back-to-back point-guard picks by the Wolves -- Ricky Rubio at No. 5 and Jonny Flynn at No. 6. And now, years later, the three-point specialist has revealed a story he once heard about why then-Minnesota executive David Kahn opted to steer clear of Curry despite two opportunities to take him.
"I don't know if that ever came out -- that's a story," Curry said on The Bill Simmons Podcast this week. "Everybody knows how much I love golf -- play it in my spare time and whatnot ... I think the word on the street was that he [Kahn] didn't draft me because, in Minnesota, it's cold and I wouldn't be able to play as much golf, so I would have been miserable."
First things first, there is exactly a zero percent chance that this "story" has even a hint of truth to it. A tongue-in-cheek "explanation" for the stupidity required to select Jonny Flynn ahead of Steph Curry that somewhere along the line morphed into something that could be loosely defined as a rumor? Probably. A legit reason as to why the Timberwolves ended up passing on a player who beat the odds to become one of the best shooters in league history, as well as the valedictorian of the new school of scoring point guards, to select someone who played in as many NBA seasons as the player he was picked in front of has NBA Finals? No f'n chance.
The thought of a President of Basketball Operations looking at a prospective lottery pick like he were a potential client in trying to cater to his love of golf is abjectly preposterous. Yet somehow, it's matched in ridiculousness by the idea that said President of Basketball Operations would be left with anything other than a cold, barren prospect pool if he was intent on filling it only with people that are at their happiest during the depressing dead of winter in the middle of Minneapolis. Plus, as if this weren't an absurd enough theory as is, believing in it would require you to think that sports' executives genuinely give a damn if their players are well-rounded individuals with outside interests and an optimistic view on life.
Hell, if David Kahn had altered the course of history by selecting Steph Curry, I'm willing to bet he'd have been more likely to have been caught flooding the greens at the local links than booking tee times for the prepubescent looking kid whose development as a basketball player was tied directly to his job security. If anything, not having immediate, year-round access to his favorite hobby would have been a plus in Steph Curry's pros column, as it would have forced him into shooting J's in a snow covered gym during his down time throughout the season. That's far more preferable to a General Manager than his most promising player having a fulfilling life away from basketball. Therefore, we're just going to have to continue blaming organizational incompetence, because - seeing as we're talking about the NBA Draft and not divorce court - it's certainly not golf's fault.
The NCAA Is (Finally) Allowing Basketball Players To Be Represented By Agents And Return To School If They Happen To Go Undrafted
Wait, wait, wait...not so fast! Before I go ahead and celebrate the NCAA's long overdue and unspoken admission that there is a booming business behind "amateur" sports, I must know...has anyone taken Mark Emmert's temperature? At the very least, he should have been offered a Snickers before signing off on an idea that makes far too much sense. You know, on the off-chance that was too hungry to be his shamelessly greedy, hypocritical self.
Don't get me wrong, I wholeheartedly appreciate that the student-athletes will finally get the well-deserved opportunity to explore which half of that label best suits their immediate future before deciding on it, but I can't help but wonder why the change in what was presumed to be a cold, dark hole where their heart was supposed to be. The fact that the agents in question must be NCAA-certified probably explain$ a lot, but nearly enough for me to understand a suspiciously simple decision that's been obvious as long as it has been ignored.
This is just out of character in the sense that it shows a semblance of character within an organization that, at long last, is throwing a shekel of sensibility the way of those that allow them to make money hand over fist. This is probably only a come-to-Jesus moment for the NCAA because they figured out a way to take a little off the top of the collection plate. However, at least now they having something other than the (highly ineffective) ruse that college sports are more about the people playing them to get off their chest when they somehow avoid burning as they step into the confessional booth.