“…while there is only one Durant—a frighteningly multi-dimensional player who can wreak havoc at just about any spot on the floor and from whom we have yet to see at his very best!—there are always a few guys like Westbrook kicking around. And those flashy point guards get traded when it’s time to actually win—just ask Jason Williams.”—
“Maybe we shouldn’t see Phil as thwarted, or denied gratification, but for once free to be just another coach. The Lakers got their asses whupped, he admitted as much, and now it’s time to move on. Sometimes, things just don’t work out like we think they should, and in that there is resignation, banality and beauty. The dime-store Buddha would certainly understand.”—At GQ.com, I try and make sense of Phil Jackson’s empty last game.
“In Boston, we now have statues of three sports figures — Orr, Red Auerbach, and Ted Williams — sprinkled throughout the city. But there’s one glaring omission: the one sports star — no disrespect here to Teddy Ballgame or Tom Brady — who left a bigger mark on this city than any other. I’m talking about a guy who won 11 championships in 13 seasons. Whose name has become synonymous with victory, hard work, and shared sacrifice. I’m talking about Bill Russell.”—Paul Flannery, writing for Boston Magazinelast November. Today, the Celtics announced plans for a Russell statue. Paul’s article started the campaign.
“Dirk’s shambolic anti-athleticism is central to his offensive effectiveness: half his trips to the free-throw line seem to result from defenders who are used to high speed chases with Jaguars failing to account for the strange trajectories of this earthbound Volkswagen.”—Roth, making up for lost time with Dirk Nowitzki over at GQ.com.
“[Jrue] Holiday also taps right into the part of the brain designed to geek out over point guards—he’s got that level of control that allows him to take what otherwise might count as risks. That’s one thing in a scorer, but when a player does that with the entire team at his disposal, it’s one of those rare times when responsibility is bad-assed.”—Me, on Jrue Holiday, from the second weekly Playoff Kibitz on GQ.com. Oh, and before that door slams shut for a while … #jruedown!
“I would say that a buzz team is a team from which we don’t expect greatness during the current playoffs—but shows “great promise for the next 3 seasons and beyond.” Young nucleus of “good kids” + “a few veterans who may or may not have been there before.” A coach who has instilled a genuine “team concept” and defensive/high-octane offense brand of basketball. A franchise whose team has “taken on the identity of the city.” A team that can generate a good stream of memes for NBA bloggers.”—Carles of Hipster Runoff, writing on buzz teams (buzzteams?) for the GQ.com NBA blog.
I’ll just put this in the most blunt terms possible: I succumbed to an irresistible urge to listen to Snow Patrol’s Final Straw. Was I looking to put the finishing touches on the seduction of the sort of traditionally attractive woman who attended a large state university and is entry-level alt enough for my tastes? If it was, you’d be the first to know. Likewise, I succumbed to an irresistible urge to listen to Death From Above 1979’s You’re A Woman, I’m A Machine. Did I get dumped by that woman and feel the need to nurse my heartbreak while still being a coked-out asshole? If it was, you’d be the first to know.
“To put it another way, as I told a friend last week: I have a minor fixation on LL Bean products, which is great, because it guarantees I look like a complete asshole at every show I go to.”—Pinpointed for Oblivion, in response to my clothes ‘n’ age post. Note: I don’t even try to go to shows anymore, but this thought occurred to me recently.