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11/22/04: Fallout So I guess the honchos at the NBA
didn't agree with my assessment of the
big brawl this Friday. Doesn't surprise me; Stern's got a (mediocre) product to
protect. He'd rather say to the fans "Our players are thugs, but don't
worry, we'll make sure they pay the price for cr These would have been my suspensions: I would have fined the Pistons 25 million dollars for what they allowed to take place in their building. And any fan identified on tape as participating in any way should be banned for life from all NBA arenas. Fucking rednecks. I also fully expect the NBA to implement some draconian new security measures, which I think is completely unnecessary. Basically, a fan gets clocked once every ten years. That does not amount to a problem, in my opinion. In this case, the fans got a well-deserved beatdown. Things should be left as they are. Incidentally, does anybody remember the time in maybe 1984 when recovering alcoholic Bernard King** went into the stands after legendary Detroit heckler Leon the Barber, who had just asked Bernard, "How about a drink?" Nobody made a big deal about it. If it happened today, Bernard would get a 30 game suspension. *** I have a story, but it needs a moral. Help me out. When I was about 8 years old, a kid moved into my apartment building. I think his name was John Patterson, and he was maybe a year younger than me. My parents and his colluded and decided that the two of us should be best friends. Looking back, he was new to the neighborhood, so he probably was a bit lonely. But I saw him as an unwanted intruder in my daily affairs, which included eating Doritos and playing Stratego. Anyway...one day his mom dropped him off in our apartment so we could hang out. It was awkward, like a bad blind date. We decided to play with some action figures, which is the elementary school equivalent of talking about the weather. It was only grudgingly that I let him touch my toys; I was a pretty selfish little fuck. He picked up one doll, the "Astronaut" from the Mego "Planet of the Apes" collection. I say "Astronaut" because that was what it said on the box: Astronaut. And in a fit of imagination, I had decided to call him "Astronaut." "I like this guy," John said, his eyes brightening for the first time all day. "Let's call him Barrelhead." "Barrelhead?" I said, shaking my head with disdain. "You can't call him Barrelhead. His name is "Astronaut." "Why can't we call him Barrelhead?" asked innocent little John. "Because," I said, snatching the doll back from him, "he already has a name: Astronaut." With that, the two of us stopped playing with the action figures. We stopped talking completely. We just sat there, waiting for his mom to pick him up. We never hung out again. I saw him in the lobby just about every other day for the next ten years, and we would sort of grunt hello to each other. By the time I turned 15 or so, when a wild Friday night for my friends and I meant staging a slam dunk contest with a nerf soccer ball in my room, John had turned into a handsome young hipster in training, complete with guitar over the shoulder. And he started bringing home lots of cute girls, too. It seemed the more pathetic and socially inept I became, the more popular John became. I am sure he is now a millionaire with seven wives. And I continue to sack shit. But at least I have one good wife. What's the moral of this story? *** Here's your GOOGLE IMAGE for the day. Guessing starts at noon, as always. Incidentally, most of the pictures I have been posting lately on the main page, like the one above, have been shots that turned up while I was searching for an image for the GISG. They haven't been selected for the game for one reason or another, but you can still guess at 'em, for extra credit. *** * Did you see Stern at the press conference, talking like
he's Clint Eastwood? Pud. |
ossing the line" than "Drunk
fans in Detroit threw beer in the face of one of our star players, and they got
their asses whupped in return. Is there a problem?" I know you have to
make some kind of a statement after an incident like this, but shouldn't he have
included some promise to hunt down and murder all the fans involved? The Artest
suspension in particular is excessive. So I guess if you hit an NBA player in
the face with a flying object, he has no right to respond. Stern*, you
turkey, you've allowed a bunch of disgusting fans to change the course of the
season for one of your best teams. 