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JR Smith Is Not An International Superstar
Okay, landed in Vegas after an abysmal delay in Dallas. Meeting other bloggers is strange, because we know each other, but we don’t, you know?
Anyway, most of my summer league stuff will be at Ridiculous Upside and FanHouse, but I wanted to pass along this gem.
JR Smith was at a game yesterday, and the story is about him making rookie Sonny Weems his little cadoodle.
The best part, though? Emphasis mine:
“After settling into a seat five rows off the floor on the baseline (following a boot from the usher when he tried to sit courtside), Smith yelled down to Weems…”
That’s right. An usher told JR Smith to back up. You know how this exchange went down.
JRS: “Yo, little pig, little pig, let me in.”
Usher: “Not by the creepy mini-goatee on your chinny chin chin.”
JRS: “I’m a Nugget, man.”
Usher: “You certainly are.”
JRS: “Do you know who I am?”
Usher: “Who are you?”
JRS: “I’m JR Smith.”
Usher: “Exactly.”
Man, undersized semi-starting combo guards that shoot too much can’t catch a break in this town.
Final note, this now confirms that JR Smith and Darius Miles are in town.
Duck.
The Greatest Document In American History
This should be taught as a post-college requisite course for life. It should be part of pre-marriage counseling for every church and authorizing marriage entity on the planet. It should be laid down in bronze and put in the capitol building. If you’re not married, and you’re thinking about getting married, read it. Read it now.
Oh, really? 12 hours a day for 16 weeks and then the playoffs? Is that rough? Is it? Try 82 damn games a year, with one on every night. And it’s not like football, where you know even if it’s bad, it’s pretty good. Basketball’s not like that. But you watch anyway, because what if this is it? What if this is the night that Darko Milicic actually does something resembling a basketball maneuver? What if this is the night Ron Artest comes out of the locker room covered in neon body paint, his eyebrows singed completely off and still smoking, reeking of peyote and starts doing a naked interpretive dance that culminates with him butt slapping White Chocolate so hard his eyes bug out of his head like Roger Rabbit? Yeah, yeah, I know. My fault for being an NBA Fan. But it’s a disease, okay? Football goes away. You have seven days in the middle of it to earn brownie points. Do you understand what happens when the one time of year that the Lakers aren’t on f*cking television is the same night as the Gray’s Anatomy season premiere/finale? Do you know how that conversation goes? Not bloody well, I’ll tell you that much.
You try to do dishes, and then you find out that Kobe’s on pace for 120, so you have to stop and go turn it on. Which means turning off Tori and Dean: Inn Love, which results in the pleading Bambi eyes, wondering why you don’t love her and won’t just take thirteen seconds out of your day to look at the latest collection of Eames chairs she’s found. You don’t know what an Eames chair is. You have one piece of furniture you’ve owned that you care about in your entire existence. That couch. But you have to turn the game off, even as you continue to receive text messages telling you how amazing this game is, that Tyrus Thomas is actually not playing like a bull loaded up on mescaline trying to have sex with Luol Deng.
You know what the playoffs is like for NFL fans? It’s six hours with a two hour break in the middle. You know what the playoffs are like for relationships in the NBA households? Armageddon. That’s what they’re like. Negotiations this year dragged on for two weeks, and resulted in me losing the swing Netflix slot, resulting in one reality TV series and one independent foreign film a week. I slang dog crap for three months, for God’s sake. And whenever I didn’t want to do something? Bambi eyes. And the, “You’ve watched TEN HOURS OF THIS STUPID GAME, WHY DO YOU NEED TO WATCH TEN MORE?!”
And how do you explain that? You don’t. You muscle up and record it and end up watching it at 4 AM, making notes while your dog pleads with you, “For the love of everything Holy, I can’t sleep until you do. Go to bed. Or I will piss on your pillow. Yes. I can jump that high.”
This is all to say that if the Paroxi-Wife told me that watching a single game of the NBA would result in her gathering up her inordinately large collection of decor magazines and taking off, well, sorry to say, but I don’t hate baseball that badly. Lucky for me I got the Paroxi-Wife, who’s supportive and understanding of this whole mess.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish plans for our trips to Ikea, Bed Bath and Beyond, and Linens and Things. And buy flowers. I no longer fear hell. For I have seen the off-season.
PS: RE: “+0 HOURS: Starting An NFL Blog Then Telling Your Lady You Have To Watch Football Because It’s “Your Job Now”.:Thanks, asswipe. You blew my last remaining cover. Die. And I mean that with the most affection possible.
Offseason Offtable 7.16.08
Your bi-weekly checkup on the offseason, featuring news, notes, opinions, rantings, and the all important Offseason Daily Survival Guide…
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It’s Only Damage Control If You’re Aware You’re Doomed…
The Camby trade is a lot more significant than I thought, and the depths of it have me both perturbed and exhilarated.
First off for the Clips, this reeks of something almost resembling a rational decision, which frightens me beyond belief. If Elgin Baylor is capable of making intelligent long-term decisions, I fear the apocalypse may be at hand. When Brand first took the money and ran, I asked my colleagues “They have to make a stab at Josh Smith, don’t they?” I looked at that roster minus Brand, and if I were a Clippers fan, I would have been pushing the panic button.
Funny thing, though. Pushing the panic button is going to salve the burn, but it’s not going to get you out of the fire. Often it results in a long term contract that you later continually wish you could dropkick off the bridge like it was Baxter. That’s how you roll. Case in point: Ben Wallace. Instead of going that route, the Clippers assessed their options, made some calls, and got a hold of a team that wanted to shed cash and contracts. They dropped off a second round pick, gave the Nuggets a trade exception, and picked up a former defensive player of the year.
Now, Pick Axe and Roll is all over this thing, and despite Jeremy’s unwavering realism regarding the dreck this team is currently mired in, he’s big on this trade. And he’s got some great points we’ll get to shortly. However, his assassination piece on Marcus Camby is a little overblown. Look, don’t get me wrong, I was the biggest marksman targeting that sieve they call a defense down the stretch. I felt there should have been a petition to keep them out of the playoffs, precisely so we wouldn’t be subjected to that pointless exhibition of a basketball series the first round against the Lakers was. However, I think using pure stats, particularly defensive ones, is considerably soft. First off, and Basketball on Paper would be the first to tell you, defensive statistics area long way from being perfect. They’re good on a team level for providing insight on generally how good a team is defensively and where they sit. They’re good for evaluating combinations of players and having players in certain positions. But they’re not designed well enough on an individual basis to garner a legitimate criticism or source of praise for any player yet. Camby was one of the few guys on that squad last year who knew what he was doing, where to be, how to play his man, and how to stick to his system. The problem wasn’t entirely effort and talent defensively last season. It was primarily from my observations, a matter of chemistry and, though I like George Karl a lot, coaching. The Nuggets, particularly versus the Lakers, had no idea where they were supposed to be. Too many times I’d see Camby having to leave his man to make up for a blown assignment. Camby brings toughness and a post center option to a team that relies heavily on it. It works for the system, it works for the player, and it gives them flexibility of the Free Agency Summer of Doom. You can’t spin losing Elton Brand. But you can move on with your lives.
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The Phantom Exception…
Now, that slight disagreement with Jeremy regarding his assessment of Camby’s defense shouldn’t cloud what is otherwise a fantastic series of pieces over at his site. Particularly of note is the breakdown of why this is okay, and it all starts and ends with that trade exception. When I wrote the breaking piece for FanHouse, there was no word of the trade exception mentioned. And if you ignore that piece of information, the Nuggets look like they ate a lot of paint chips when they were a kid. But the second I read Jeremy’s piece, my brain hit a giant stop sign, and when I looked up, I saw a mountain of possibilities staring me in the face. That’s $10 million of space they opened up. As the trade broke, the Denver GM kept saying financial flexibility, which we all assumed meant “saving the owner the luxury tax dough next year.” But a trade exception leaves a much more interesting flexibility, cap flexibility. They have pieces. Linas Kleiza is cheap, affordable, a hard worker, and young. JR Smith is a basketcase that can score like no other. And there’s of course, the big 2. It would be pretty easy to use that exception to talk Sacramento into giving over Crazy Pills, who says he doesn’t want to play in Denver, but he’ll of course change his mind when he realizes he’s playing with AI and Melo in a town with Colfax Avenue. It’s like an indoor mini-golf course of hookers. Open all year round and slightly bizarre at the same time. It’s CandyLand for Crazy Pills. And no Snake Eggs.
The more intriguing possibility is of course Josh Smith. If he doesn’t want to go back to Atlanta with Woodson there, and the management in disarray and not wanting to shell out dough, a $10 million trade exception can go a long way. Allen Iverson, JR Smith, Carmelo Anthony, Josh Smith, and whatever you want to play Center. That strikes fear into the hearts of men. It won’t happen, of course. More likely is a smaller set up by the Nuggets that they try and sell to the fans as a “big move” which is actually nothing at all. But it’s a thought.
It should be noted that Denver Stiffs tends to disagree with the more optimistic mindset regarding this turn of events.
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Dare To Dream…
Speaking of Smith, another thought drifted into my head this morning, and I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of it. The Grizzlies have $10 million in cap space for next season. Make an offer for Josh Smith. I know, I know, it’s way too low. But if he accepts with the understanding of a backloaded contract, and the Hawks management has a seizure and cna’t gt its assets in line to match, imagine that. Letting Josh Smith go for $10million. Now picture it.
Conley
Mayo
Gay
Smith
Gasol/Darko
Warrick
Crittenton
In Memphis. It would be the second coming of underground funk. It would lift us up to the sky and show us absolute and untethered mania. It would be really freaking cool.
The other option, and this is a little more possible, is a sign and trade, with one of Memphis’ picks for next year, Hakim Warrick, Crittenton/Lowry, Buckner and Walker. Yes, you lose Josh Smith. But at least that way the Hawks can say they got long term cap flexibility for the Free Agency Summer of Doom, and got some quality pieces out of it. The Grizzlies are left with no bench, but that’s okay, I’ve got a whole list of D-Leaguers they can play five minutes a night for the league minimum no problem. Furthermore, you’ve just made Memphis relevant again. And not in the “That’s an underrated team you’ve got there.” People will pay attention to it. It’ll never happen, but that’s the kind of dream I was born to dream.
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On Tyronn Lue…
Milwaukee, Tyronn? Really? Really?
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We Will Not Negotiate With Arms Dealers…
What’s funny about the absurd amount of money the Hornets just handed James Posey is that this honestly represents more of a “We’re fine. We’re just going to tweak” attitude than anything else. Posey’s not a difference maker or a superstar. He’s a guy that does the little things, in small minutes, in the long run. And the Hornets essentially said “We need one more shooter, and we want to make damn sure he’s a guy that knows how to hit a shot when it counts. We’re getting this guy, growing Julian Wright and Hilton Armstrong, and going back to the trenches.” No big flashy signing or trade, no kneejerk reactions, just “We probably won’t run into the Spurs next season in the playoffs and if we do, we’ll know how to beat them. And we know if you can be athletic and play defense you can beat the Lakers. No panic.” Steady. Sure. Confident. This is the hand of Byron Scott.
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Your Offseason Survival Guide:
Go to Vegas!
Yes, Las Vegas Nevada, where, especially this week, you’re likely to run into an NBA superstar, which will remind you of the season, when these guys actually give a crap about what they’re eating, drinking, and doing. This is this week’s Surival Guide, because that’s where I’ll be starting tomorrow and running through Monday. Check out Ridiculous Upside and FanHouse for my coverage (it’s going to be pretty kickass), and enjoy some of the new columns we’ve got rolling around here. And please, tell Corn to quit trying to convince me to play the tables again. It never ends well and the Paroxy-wife has vehemently threatened changing the locks if I get… ahem… carried away. Enjoy the weekend, folks.
A Year of Pure Point
Happy Birthday to Pure Point, which celebrates its one year birthday today.
Tip o’ the cap to Loren.
Nerd Fulfilled
I want to thank everyone for the submissions for the stats writer position. I received a lot of really great entries, and believe me, they’ve been tucked away for further use.
As for the newest member of our staff? We’re unbelievably excited about him. But who is it? You’ll have to wait a little bit to find out. Anything else would simply be too…
Arbitrary.
Again, thanks for all the submissions, and thanks for reading.
Oh, and yes, bonus points were awarded in my mind for claiming the undeniable truth that Vince Carter kicks puppies and for using the term “Nova.” Well done.
Best,
Matt Moore
EIC
Hardwood Paroxysm
The Offseason Off-Table: 7.15.08
Your bi-weekly checkup on the offseason, featuring news, notes, opinions, rantings, and the all important Offseason Daily Survival Guide…
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Why can’t Tyronn Lue get a gig?
Look, I know he’s got problems and he’s not a star. I get that. And he’s 31. I get that. But seriously, he has a positive assist to turnover ratio, he understands his role, he doesn’t take too many shots like your typical journeyman guard, and he’s willing to sign for the minimum. This is not rocket science.
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Who is likely to be the NBA’s next Brett Favre?
With the Packer QB constantly changing his freaking mind about whether he’s done or not, I started wondering what player was going to end up as the next Favre, constantly changing his mind, continuing to play even though he’s a shell of what he once was (Favre played well last season, but let’s face it, an awesome defense and a solid running game was what got them as far as they went). Here’s the list.
1. Shaquille O’Neal: Aren’t we already to where we were two years ago with Favre, here? It’s time. It’s just time. And yet Phoenix will keep paying the Big Shaqtus the GNP of a small nation until he finally decides to give it up. But can’t you just see him coming back and signing with the Lakers or someone afterwards? This has to be a lock.
2. Jason Kidd: You see this happening, don’t you? Kidd seems oblivious to the fact that he’s no longer the top point guard in the league, and has the obsession with winning to pair with it. His career seems to drag on, as he goes from team to team, each one supposedly the “final, right fit” for his talents, while his shooting percentage plummets and his defense gets more and more suspect against younger point guards. I can see him refusing to give it up and pulling a Gary Payton somewhere along the way.
3. Allen Iverson: Loved by many, despised passionately by a select few. Known for trying to do too much. Constantly clashing with management. While Favre was quiet for many years, Iverson’s always a powder keg. And no one will tell him when it’s his turn to hang up the laces.
4. Kevin Garnett: The lovable idol who always wants to win. Incomporable. Enigmatic. If it werent’ for Brett’s happy go lucky demeanor, this would fit. With the championship, though, I think that’s been assuaged.
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Odom to the Heat?
Oh, dear, Lord, Big Baby Jesus, please, please make this happen. Please send Odom back to the Heat.
I have a special place in my heart for that 2003-2004 Heat squad. Dwyane Wade who basically walked into the NBA circus arena in the playoffs and started kicking the crap out of lions and tigers and blowing sh*t up. Odom sprinting down the floor. Butler who was actually very good that season. Haslem off the bench. Eddie Jones. Rafer Alston. That squad was without borders. You have expected them to run off the court and into the stands. They were the basketball version of Jumanji. And they can be again.
Without Shaq, with a healthy (cross fingers) Wade, with Beasley, with Odom, Haslem and Chalmers, you have the capacity for something unexpected. Marion is the better player, but returning Odom to the Wild could make him lovable again. He’s not lovable in LA. It’s nothing to do with LA. It’s just that he’s sad. The expectations are so high on him, constantly, and he can’t be the disciplined professional assassin Jackson needs him to be. But to be in Miami, back with Wade, back to spasmodic outbursts and not giving a damn, that’s the Odom you can love.
It makes sense for the Lakers, too. I don’t even mind how absurdly unfair that would be, to have Marion, Gasol, and Bynum, because at this point, we’re just splitting hairs with how good the Lakers will be next year with the conceptual Bynum. So this could conceivably happen.
Miami knows it’s not resigning Marion next year. It’s not happening. Get Odom, have some fun, you can probably resign him for a reasonable amount and if not, you’ve got the same amount of cap room.
We’ll never what could have happened if Riley didn’t get all “Oooh, I want to win a championship now” on us, but at least we can relive a few moments and see what a three-headed Odom-Wade-Beasley monster looks like.
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Things to be wary of in the Summer League games.
A. Turnovers: If you can’t handle perimeter defense from a guy who gets paid in Euros, you probably can’t handle Deron Williams.
B. Shot Selection: Warning. If your guy is just out there shooting whenever he gets the opportunity? That’s a bad sign. This isn’t a “Well, he can shoot, he’s the best player” sort of deal. He needs to show that he’s not going to try and play the hero. That’s how you end up going Durant and making our eyes bleed for six months, and that’s IF you get that kind of playing time.
C. Focus: You have to watch off the ball. For example. DeAndre Jordan is a beast. A physical beast. He’s like the Cloverfield monster. He could tear down the Brooklyn Bridge. But on several positions, he ends up not knowing where he is on the court. He doesn’t know where he is, his man is, the ball is, nothing. Sometimes guys just run to the spot they usually do and stand there, boggled as some guy takes away their position entirely.
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Keyon Dooling needs to get over himself.
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Offseason Survival Guide.
Freerunning.
Why? Because then you and Manu will have something else in common. Detonated ankles.
BallHype Goes Nova
We owe a lot to BallHype. Not only did it get us serious exposure during our fledgling months and introduce us to a ton of blogs that are the source of news for us, but it is a motivator. Every three days, I check BallHype to see where we stand. And if we’ve fallen, like we have currently, it motivates me to get back in the habit of posting and coming up with ideas. It’s a great motivational tactic, because we don’t have Yahoo! or ESPN, or SLAM’s readership, but this is an area where we can compete with them (I’m coming for you, Nelson).
So we tip our hat quite deeply to the ladies and gentlemen of that fine site, for they have been purchased, and will now no longer be considered bloggers. Because they’re actually making money. We all congratulate you. And will now begin hating you and starting vicious rumors behind your back. Congrats!
Jesus. Leitch is in New York Magazine, Ryne’s the online editor of SLAM, and BallHype got purchased. Sweet Mother of Christ, what’s a guy gotta do to sell out around here?