Wednesday, October 31, 2012

David Stern's Farewell Bucket List

From the desk of David Stern:

A lotta speculation on the moneys I've made/
Honeys I've slayed/
How is he fareal?/
Is that n*gga really paid?

They ask me if I'm the greatest pro sports commissioner of all time? And I ask them, is an elephant d*ck ashy? Is Oprah's fridge door open?

Getting to the point here, gentleman, I tend to think the question answers itself. What I learned in my years leading the NBA's rise to pre-eminent league in our country, and then around the globe, is that I'm undoubtedly one of the smartest men a person could meet.

Yes, it's true I inherited a league that would soon be flush with star athletes like the world hadn't known, but I don't see Jerry Rice owning an NFL franchise. Or A-Rod selling sneakers to the Chinese. I gave Michael, Magic and Larry the keys to secret passageways that two of them still haven't used. The other one cured himself of humanity's most sinister plague.

Monday, October 22, 2012

NBA Preseason Predictions for the LOL In You

As a member of the basketball cognoscenti, and proud self-important fan, I use large chunks of my day to read articles about every storyline in the NBA. Most of it is fluff. So-and-so's baby moms is on Basketball Wives next season. What's-his-name put a booger in the Gatorade after practice. Star Player has a new skill to preview that's GOINGTOCHANGEHIZGAMESOMUCH OMG.

Sure, fine, the League changes in countless ways when no one's even playing. That's not even counting the trades, acquisitions, retirements. (Or in the Knicks case, the acquisition of retired players who are then traded.) In truth, the 2013 storylines were largely written when Miami won the championship, and everyone else ran to a silent corner to bereave the possibility of Other Champions once that group reached the top. But recently, the appearance of a story, the journalist's make-believe predictions of stories, and the plain absurdity of desired stories has replaced analysis entirely. The hoops world has split between the crude numbers people and the narrative-driven erstwhile fabulists. I count myself among the latter, though I have a closet existence as a stat junkie that only shows itself to women I date around November 1st. Hard to understand how a foggy-minded leaver of dishes can recite the 2002 NBA All-Defense 2nd Team without pause. Love you, babygirl. But don't you ever get caught sleeping on Eric Snow.

This year's browsing has produced some trite narratives worthy of repeating, if only to finally, and completely kill them dead. The authors of these stories will remain unnamed, but their premises shall be roundly ridiculed. And henceforth dismissed!