More on the NBA
Excellent reportage [in the NBA western previews], but in what sense does Shawn Bradley qualify as “marginally talented?†He does throw a really accurate elbow, but if it weren’t for Don Nelson, Bradley would be toting a sandwich board somewhere outside Topeka, or holding hands with a midget in some bumpkin carny. He’s been in the league for more than a decade, and every time he takes the floor I see him do something that convinces me he’s never even seen a basketball before in his life. It’s just astounding.
Don Nelson makes me miss Buddy Ryan, who I like to think can be found in secret bunker somewhere beneath the Painted Desert, stroking a white Persian cat and chuckling insanely to himself.
I’m disappointed that I can find no combination of letters in a Google search that prompts it to ask “Did you mean ‘Mxyzptlk?’†That one line about Bzdelik has rendered me completely unable to watch Nuggets games this season. Honest. It has absolutely nothing to do with mopey Marcus Camby, ‘Melo’s unsettling resemblance to Seattle Storm Favorite Daughter Betty Dixon, or the cosmic surreality of seeing K-Mart in a Denver uniform.
It’s increasingly confounding to me how you lose 60+ games with Tracy McGrady. On the other hand, there may not be a better place than Houston if you’re going to cleave to the “dribble around, jump nine feet in the air as soon as you see daylight, and then figure out what to do with the ball†school of NBA play. And speaking of Kobe Bryant, every time I  flipped over to the Lakers game last night I wondered how they could forget to give the dunking mascots their trampoline. I’ve never seen anything like it. L.A.’s in for the most entertaining .300 season in NBA history.
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Fink’s Sonics Preview
Nate McMillan’s been seeding his farewell speech for about a month now. I suffer from poor digestion, and so was unable to watch the Sonics more than about once a week last season, but I can’t shake the impression that McMillan hasn’t he faintest idea what the heck he’s doing. This comes as little surprise to those of us who know he was hired on suspicion of being able to get Gary Payton to stay, and because he’s the only fan favorite since ‘78 who is remotely likeable or could pass a criminal background check. Given a choice between arm-folding (to which Nate brings a brooding stoicism that could almost be described as contemplative if he weren’t always murderously pissed off) and finding-one’s-ass-with-both-hands, I’d be inclined to take the latter. Sure, we all whine about not having a post threat and the staggering amount of payroll wasted on three guys who could be smelted into a center slightly worse than Rick Smits; but I believe Nate’s squad last year was talented enough to look like a basketball team for more than two games in a row if he could MAKE UP HIS GODDAMN MIND ABOUT ANYTHING.
Rashard Lewis is about to embark on his fifth “breakout year,†but to be fair it’ll only be his second full season playing a position he’s remotely suited for. And starting your career in an offense run by Payton can mess up your game for a long long time. Just ask Desmond Mason.
Reggie Evans suffered terribly from Nate’s inability to see that if you’re losing 100+ point games in the last two minutes, scoring is not your problem, and taking a voracious rebounder and your foremost energy player off the bench just might not kill you, even if he is an offensive liability.
The departure of Calvin Booth means the mediocrity at center is now merely bipolar, which should clarify matters enough that Nate might play the same guy for as much as a whole week at a time.
Danny Fortson might not accidentally kill anybody, and if he does, there’s a better than average chance it won’t be one of is teammates. Nick Collison and Lil’ Robby Swift clearly have their hearts set on being basketball players when they grow up. Management will have sold them for scrap metal and a deli tray before that happens, of course.
Luke Ridenour should continue to improve this season, despite taking time off mid-year to star in a remake of “My Bodyguard.†This is a shame, because Antonio Daniels is an actual point guard, and one that defends, no less. He’s tough, quiet, hardworking, and exactly the kind of player this city of basketball morons doesn’t notice. It’s a little confusing to all of us that Nate appears to actively hate him.
I don’t know what to do with Vladimir Radmanovic. He’s the other side of the Euro: he comes out of a youth academy that drilled him so mercilessly on fundamental basketball that he appears to have no instinct on the court. People think he doesn’t hustle, but I expect that the sight of a loose ball still comes as kind of a surprise to him. Plus he’s, like, Jessica Simpson’s age. I’d just hate to see them move him out of pique (for peanuts, naturally) and than have him turn into the newest edition of the Slavic Instant Mis-Match. (I ask you to do nothing to disturb my blissful ignorance of how pointless it is to fit him into a lineup that includes Ray Allen and Lewis.)
I miss Brent “Bones” Barry like a brother, but he looked swell in the LA/Sac game last night. My only hope is that it occurred to someone to exact his promise that he’d return for his broadcasting career. I figure he can continue the grand tradition of Killer Zombie Broadcasters like Hubie Brown and Doug Collins.
I refuse to acknowledge the presence of Dominque’s kid until he does something more interesting with his hair.