NBA All-Star weekend
Like I said in my first blog, sometimes I'll post something long and rambling about random subjects. This one is about the NBA All-Star weekend and a host of other things. Its long, so browse and skim as you please.
I was working Friday night covering a high school basketball state tournament, so I didn't get a chance to see the Rookie vs. Sophomore game.
What I did miss Friday was Kevin Frazier in the celebrity game. Back when he was on Fox Sports, my mother, whose maiden name is Frazier, used to think he was related to us. I believe she sees a resemblance from his eye's up. Anyways, he was always a favorite of mine. The anti-Stuart Scott. Kev was professional with his, not sounding or acting too stiff, but never an over-the-top shoe-shuffling cartoon like Stu. Kev also ran an ill NBA show for ESPN and me and my boys were miffed when he disappeared this year and John Saunders took over. We had our theories, but no one knew for sure.
I remember him talking about playing pick-up ball with Tim Hardaway back when Tim was speaking incomprehensible 'glish for the NBA show. I always wondered if Kev was a baller. Reports said he was goin hard at it in the celeb game, like it was a showcase...Probably was hilarious.
Saturday I was supposed to catch the dunk contest and 3-point shootout with a co-worker; and I would've, if I wasn't drugged earlier that evening...
To make a short story long: I'm currently working on a piece about this rugby team in Orlando. I guess the interesting thing about rugby is that both teams beat each other like savages all game -- sometimes actually coming to blows -- and then, after all is said and done, they get together after the game, go to a pub, eat, drink and kick it. Rugby is almost more of a social club than sport, but not really.
Anyways, I decided to spend the day with the squad to see how they get down.
The game is indeed brutal. No one leaves the field without bruises, many are bloody.
(Also, interesting was the skinny southern black-man playing in the game. He was the only black man. There were plenty Latin Americans, because of it's free-flowing resemblance to soccer. And, of course the expected amount of elitist white men and northern European-transplants. Everyone called this black-man El Negro, which I found both sad, telling and comical. And naturally, homeboy had a motor-mouth on him. He never stopped talking and offered everyone "one of them ice-colds I got in my cooler". He was an Omega, aka Q, and looked to be about 40-years-old, still in good shape. For the last 20 minutes of the second game, he sat in the driver-side seat of his pick-up trunk with his left leg dangling out the window having a business conversation -- walkie-talkie style -- on his Nextel. Also amusing was the way he walked, which resembled a horse's two front legs when in a slow trot. He was an affable man, probably wealthy and admirably balanced, being somewhat cultured, but keeping his "down-homeness". Nevertheless, and more importantly for this blog, he was a side-show.)
Back to getting drugged...
Afterwards, I accompanied the squads to Maui Jacks, a small pub in downtown Orlando. They were a rowdy bunch and it was the first time I ever saw a keg at a real establishment. It was right at the entrance.
The fellas implored me to partake of the keg and I did...On an empty stomach. Now mind you, I've drank hard liquor on an empty stomach more times than I care to admit, so a couple cups of light-beer shouldn't have been a problem. But after I said my farewells and headed back to my car I felt strange -- strange as in, "I've never felt this way before in my life". I could walk fine, think fine, all my essential functions seemed to be operating cool, but my head felt weird. Not like the room was spinning, but like you feel when you stretch for too long and your head didn't get enough oxygen.
By the time I got home, that feeling turned into a headache. Then the headache became a body-ache. By the time All-Star Weekend was set to begin I had excruciating stomach cramps. Although, I never felt like I had to vomit. It was the craziest procession of discomfort ever. There were several times when I wondered if those crazy rugby dudes laced the keg with some wild drug. I even called a player from the team the next day to see if anyone else felt weird the next day, but apparently they all partied till 3 am Saturday night.
Needless to say, I missed the dunk contest and heard that Josh Smith was incredible. The highlights didn't seem INCREDIBLE, but highlights never do justice to real-time magnificence. I'm hating that I missed it. Plus Q took the 3-point contest with a clutch performance in the last round. I was up on Q by December of his freshman year at DePaul. What people don't remember is that he basically played as an undersized 4 in college and averaged 11, 12 boards his first two years. Now he's droppin treys and doin the delight with Brandy. Q stepped his game up. I'm a fan.
I also missed Shaq continuing his streak of atrociously geechie getups. About three years ago I was watching an All-Star game with my boys from DC when Shaq appeared on screen in some fantastically ridiculous get up. It was ghastly and spawned one of the greatest lines ever dropped by one of my cohorts when my man Tony Knight looked at Shaq's duds and said, "One question Shaq: Are you serious?" We all started dying laughing. Ever since then, when something either downright stupid, absolutely foolish, or just truly perplexing is said, done or worn we hit each other with that lug. I'm sure if we were watching All-star Saturday in DC somebody would've hit us with it. Because that's what I was thinking.
Thankfully by Sunday evening, I was well enough to catch the All-Star game.
The game was cool. Vince's off-the-backboard hammer was exceptional, but it was one of the few All-Star games that didn't really have me riveted.
However, there were several things worth mentioning:
Kobe...Now don't get me wrong, that's my nigga because he plays for my squad and I still think he's the best player in the league.
But his beard is downright ludicrous as is his receding hairline. Putting those two together, I think his whole game from the neck-up is pretty much rude.
I laugh because, I know he wants to distance himself from the clown he was for most of his career that wanted to mimic Jordan to a tee. So he's waiting as long as he can before he shaves his head bald. But he's gotta do it. In a sec, he'll be rocking the Sherman Hemsley.
His beard is also his latest attempt to not look clean-cut, which is not gangsta. He went at that clean image so hard when he was younger that his latest attempt to reverse that or embrace his public enemy status, or at least parlay that into some respect on the streets, is just corny.
The halftime show was not only ridiculous but a seminal moment in comedic history...
With Puff, Jay-Z, Nelly, Denzel, Spike, Sandler, Ashton Kutcher and all these "cool" people in the audience, the NBA chooses to trot out Big & Rich like this is the Dayton 500. If you want to pander to your white audience then bring out Maroon 5, Alicia Keys, U2 -- whoever. But Big & Rich? Like Tony said, "One question..."
Regardless, it was a satisfying performance to say the least.
First of all, they had a handicap midget in a Mavericks jersey convulsing on stage in a fur hat. Homeboy had the walkers like Tucker in Something About Mary, and he was hitting us with this jig reminiscent of Flavor Flav (and you better believe one of these days we will get to Flav's Strange Love performances). But what warmed my heart is how when the astute cameramen, recognizing that this midget was The Show, would give us a nice close-up; the midge would hit us with an ice-grill that could freeze a flame. Homeboy was serious as cancer.
My sister text'd me not more than 5 seconds after he first appeared on the screen.
But nothing prepared me for the rapping cowboy.
Black hillbillies kill me. The type that drive pick-up trucks with confederate flag stickers.
Well, this dude was a self-proclaimed Black Rappin' Cowboy and his rhyme was amazingly wack -- especially when he would flip-the-script and started spittin' in spanglish. Although his rhymes were tragic, I was still paying rapt attention. Not only because it was the proverbial car-wreck attention where you are fixated on the subject because it is curiously horrific, but I was anticipating what he would do after he finished his mangled verse.
Would he fade to the background? Would he pull out a confederate flag and drape it over his shoulders? Would he play the harmonica?
Well he out-did himself...
He started crip-walking.
It was so bad that it was profane.
(Mind you he had on sand-blasted straight leg jeans, probably Levi 501 Blues, that buckled at the knees and bunched ontop of his cowboy boots.)
It was also the way he began.
Literally AS SOON as he stopped rapping he abruptly began crip-walking -- not to mention with his hands high in the air. And it was real showy too, like he was saying "Watch this world." Plus he was staring at his feet as if to say, "Boy I got them jokers moving don't I yall?"
Classic. Haven't laughed that hard since I watched Napoleon Dynamite.
On another note, did anyone think it was odd that AI referred to Shaq as the "greatest player to ever play this game"? I think it was a slip of the tongue. But just in case you wondered, the list is like this:
1. Jordan
2. Magic
3. Wilt
4. Kareem
5. Bird
6. Bill Russell
7. Shaq
8. Dr. J
9. Oscar Robertson
10. Hakeem Olajuwon
However, by the end of their careers, Kobe, Duncan and Lebron will displace three of those players. Shaq may move up. And KG may get in their too.
In a future blog I'll do a top-ten based on Influence and Impact that will look much different and is probably much more interesting.
In the meantime, that's it for me.
All this week I'm watching every movie nominated for an Oscar and any movie in which an actor or actress was nominated. So far I've done Finding Neverland, Million Dollar Baby and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I'm about to watch Ray for the first time (sad right). Maybe I'll find time to slip in a movie blog before Sunday's Oscars.
I was working Friday night covering a high school basketball state tournament, so I didn't get a chance to see the Rookie vs. Sophomore game.
What I did miss Friday was Kevin Frazier in the celebrity game. Back when he was on Fox Sports, my mother, whose maiden name is Frazier, used to think he was related to us. I believe she sees a resemblance from his eye's up. Anyways, he was always a favorite of mine. The anti-Stuart Scott. Kev was professional with his, not sounding or acting too stiff, but never an over-the-top shoe-shuffling cartoon like Stu. Kev also ran an ill NBA show for ESPN and me and my boys were miffed when he disappeared this year and John Saunders took over. We had our theories, but no one knew for sure.
I remember him talking about playing pick-up ball with Tim Hardaway back when Tim was speaking incomprehensible 'glish for the NBA show. I always wondered if Kev was a baller. Reports said he was goin hard at it in the celeb game, like it was a showcase...Probably was hilarious.
Saturday I was supposed to catch the dunk contest and 3-point shootout with a co-worker; and I would've, if I wasn't drugged earlier that evening...
To make a short story long: I'm currently working on a piece about this rugby team in Orlando. I guess the interesting thing about rugby is that both teams beat each other like savages all game -- sometimes actually coming to blows -- and then, after all is said and done, they get together after the game, go to a pub, eat, drink and kick it. Rugby is almost more of a social club than sport, but not really.
Anyways, I decided to spend the day with the squad to see how they get down.
The game is indeed brutal. No one leaves the field without bruises, many are bloody.
(Also, interesting was the skinny southern black-man playing in the game. He was the only black man. There were plenty Latin Americans, because of it's free-flowing resemblance to soccer. And, of course the expected amount of elitist white men and northern European-transplants. Everyone called this black-man El Negro, which I found both sad, telling and comical. And naturally, homeboy had a motor-mouth on him. He never stopped talking and offered everyone "one of them ice-colds I got in my cooler". He was an Omega, aka Q, and looked to be about 40-years-old, still in good shape. For the last 20 minutes of the second game, he sat in the driver-side seat of his pick-up trunk with his left leg dangling out the window having a business conversation -- walkie-talkie style -- on his Nextel. Also amusing was the way he walked, which resembled a horse's two front legs when in a slow trot. He was an affable man, probably wealthy and admirably balanced, being somewhat cultured, but keeping his "down-homeness". Nevertheless, and more importantly for this blog, he was a side-show.)
Back to getting drugged...
Afterwards, I accompanied the squads to Maui Jacks, a small pub in downtown Orlando. They were a rowdy bunch and it was the first time I ever saw a keg at a real establishment. It was right at the entrance.
The fellas implored me to partake of the keg and I did...On an empty stomach. Now mind you, I've drank hard liquor on an empty stomach more times than I care to admit, so a couple cups of light-beer shouldn't have been a problem. But after I said my farewells and headed back to my car I felt strange -- strange as in, "I've never felt this way before in my life". I could walk fine, think fine, all my essential functions seemed to be operating cool, but my head felt weird. Not like the room was spinning, but like you feel when you stretch for too long and your head didn't get enough oxygen.
By the time I got home, that feeling turned into a headache. Then the headache became a body-ache. By the time All-Star Weekend was set to begin I had excruciating stomach cramps. Although, I never felt like I had to vomit. It was the craziest procession of discomfort ever. There were several times when I wondered if those crazy rugby dudes laced the keg with some wild drug. I even called a player from the team the next day to see if anyone else felt weird the next day, but apparently they all partied till 3 am Saturday night.
Needless to say, I missed the dunk contest and heard that Josh Smith was incredible. The highlights didn't seem INCREDIBLE, but highlights never do justice to real-time magnificence. I'm hating that I missed it. Plus Q took the 3-point contest with a clutch performance in the last round. I was up on Q by December of his freshman year at DePaul. What people don't remember is that he basically played as an undersized 4 in college and averaged 11, 12 boards his first two years. Now he's droppin treys and doin the delight with Brandy. Q stepped his game up. I'm a fan.
I also missed Shaq continuing his streak of atrociously geechie getups. About three years ago I was watching an All-Star game with my boys from DC when Shaq appeared on screen in some fantastically ridiculous get up. It was ghastly and spawned one of the greatest lines ever dropped by one of my cohorts when my man Tony Knight looked at Shaq's duds and said, "One question Shaq: Are you serious?" We all started dying laughing. Ever since then, when something either downright stupid, absolutely foolish, or just truly perplexing is said, done or worn we hit each other with that lug. I'm sure if we were watching All-star Saturday in DC somebody would've hit us with it. Because that's what I was thinking.
Thankfully by Sunday evening, I was well enough to catch the All-Star game.
The game was cool. Vince's off-the-backboard hammer was exceptional, but it was one of the few All-Star games that didn't really have me riveted.
However, there were several things worth mentioning:
Kobe...Now don't get me wrong, that's my nigga because he plays for my squad and I still think he's the best player in the league.
But his beard is downright ludicrous as is his receding hairline. Putting those two together, I think his whole game from the neck-up is pretty much rude.
I laugh because, I know he wants to distance himself from the clown he was for most of his career that wanted to mimic Jordan to a tee. So he's waiting as long as he can before he shaves his head bald. But he's gotta do it. In a sec, he'll be rocking the Sherman Hemsley.
His beard is also his latest attempt to not look clean-cut, which is not gangsta. He went at that clean image so hard when he was younger that his latest attempt to reverse that or embrace his public enemy status, or at least parlay that into some respect on the streets, is just corny.
The halftime show was not only ridiculous but a seminal moment in comedic history...
With Puff, Jay-Z, Nelly, Denzel, Spike, Sandler, Ashton Kutcher and all these "cool" people in the audience, the NBA chooses to trot out Big & Rich like this is the Dayton 500. If you want to pander to your white audience then bring out Maroon 5, Alicia Keys, U2 -- whoever. But Big & Rich? Like Tony said, "One question..."
Regardless, it was a satisfying performance to say the least.
First of all, they had a handicap midget in a Mavericks jersey convulsing on stage in a fur hat. Homeboy had the walkers like Tucker in Something About Mary, and he was hitting us with this jig reminiscent of Flavor Flav (and you better believe one of these days we will get to Flav's Strange Love performances). But what warmed my heart is how when the astute cameramen, recognizing that this midget was The Show, would give us a nice close-up; the midge would hit us with an ice-grill that could freeze a flame. Homeboy was serious as cancer.
My sister text'd me not more than 5 seconds after he first appeared on the screen.
But nothing prepared me for the rapping cowboy.
Black hillbillies kill me. The type that drive pick-up trucks with confederate flag stickers.
Well, this dude was a self-proclaimed Black Rappin' Cowboy and his rhyme was amazingly wack -- especially when he would flip-the-script and started spittin' in spanglish. Although his rhymes were tragic, I was still paying rapt attention. Not only because it was the proverbial car-wreck attention where you are fixated on the subject because it is curiously horrific, but I was anticipating what he would do after he finished his mangled verse.
Would he fade to the background? Would he pull out a confederate flag and drape it over his shoulders? Would he play the harmonica?
Well he out-did himself...
He started crip-walking.
It was so bad that it was profane.
(Mind you he had on sand-blasted straight leg jeans, probably Levi 501 Blues, that buckled at the knees and bunched ontop of his cowboy boots.)
It was also the way he began.
Literally AS SOON as he stopped rapping he abruptly began crip-walking -- not to mention with his hands high in the air. And it was real showy too, like he was saying "Watch this world." Plus he was staring at his feet as if to say, "Boy I got them jokers moving don't I yall?"
Classic. Haven't laughed that hard since I watched Napoleon Dynamite.
On another note, did anyone think it was odd that AI referred to Shaq as the "greatest player to ever play this game"? I think it was a slip of the tongue. But just in case you wondered, the list is like this:
1. Jordan
2. Magic
3. Wilt
4. Kareem
5. Bird
6. Bill Russell
7. Shaq
8. Dr. J
9. Oscar Robertson
10. Hakeem Olajuwon
However, by the end of their careers, Kobe, Duncan and Lebron will displace three of those players. Shaq may move up. And KG may get in their too.
In a future blog I'll do a top-ten based on Influence and Impact that will look much different and is probably much more interesting.
In the meantime, that's it for me.
All this week I'm watching every movie nominated for an Oscar and any movie in which an actor or actress was nominated. So far I've done Finding Neverland, Million Dollar Baby and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I'm about to watch Ray for the first time (sad right). Maybe I'll find time to slip in a movie blog before Sunday's Oscars.
posted by Twistinado @ 12:51 AM
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