I suspect that most Americans don’t remember where they were and what they were doing when they didn’t care that J.J. Redick broke the ACC scoring record two days ago.
No hard feelings, Bucko, but that’s an asterisk record, anyway.*
(* - accomplished with the benefit of the 3-point arc in a watered-down conference with only a cursory understanding of defense …)
Context, people … context …
Wow, EspyTime gave me so much wall-to-wall basketball this weekend, jeez … I’ll need a week just to decompress.
Actually, the Sunday-to-Monday-overnight SporkCenter condensed for me what I’ll need to de-program from my brain during the decompressurization.
One priceless, quickie nugget was provided by coll. b-ball studio pencilneck Doug Gottlieb, who thumbnailed U-Conn with: “When they want to play, when they defend, when they rebound, when they take quality shots, they are arguably the most-talented team in the nation and probably the No. 1 team.”
Or, as the vanilla rhymesters say in the Chronic-(What?!)-Kulls of Narrr-nee-yuhh rap: “Double true!”
(Please don’t sue me, SNL)
Anyway, “Leebs” (as I call him in our Yiddish, street-cred vocab) was a 20 percent 3-point maker at Okie State and he was a 43 percent foul shooter (look it up, America … it’s “double true!”). And, maybe Leebs didn’t get around to reading my blog from a few weeks ago when I stated in no uncertain terms that the ONLY keys to every b-ball game ever played in the history of the universe (of all-time, EVER!) are: 1) D up 2) Box out 3) Minimize turnovers 4) Don’t take crappy 3’s which are beyond yer range.
Leebs doesn’t want you to know about the 20/43 component, so don’t tell anyone. Okay? Lock it in the vault where ya keep the knowledge that he spent the entire first half of that Big Monday game back in ’00 or ’01 with his shorts on backwards.
Oh, that nutty Dugster.
That’s the thing about b-ball – it always delivers when it comes to putting a smile on the faces of American citizens. SporkCenter proved that when it spent the 90-minute tilt-o’-whirl of goodness dealing with the key topics such as: A) A Harlem Globetrotters feature story B) The Mediocre Life of The Mediocre Kenny Mayne C) The Shuh-Sheff-Skee Sit-Down and D) My fave: Greece Athena High Holds A 50/50 Raffle For That Little Boy In The Hospital Who Is Dying Of Autism.
Don’t get me wrong … the Globetrotters piece was outstanding. It was well-packaged and watching Curly Neal drain two roof-scraping, 35-foot chest passes for baskets, well … it’s better than watching Pittsnogle and his tatts square up from 19-9.
And, for those of us who wondered what ever happened to the gigantic ‘fro of Arizona Wildcat Eugene Edgerson … yes!
Edge is a 'Trotter.
The thing about the Globetrotters is that when they took the floor, they were TRYING to be funny. And, Meadowlark shooting a hook shot from 25 feet will always go into the basket more times than J.J. Redick spotting up from 19-9.
Speaking of which, Coach Krzyzewski offered some priceless moments when he had that sit-down with EspyTime stiff (reporter John Barr, I think his name is).
I, like most of America, was transfixed when Coach Mike was asked to give a clear-cut example of how his wife or daughters allowed him to look at coaching with a “different” perspective.
Coach Krzyz offered the anecdote about how Mrs. Krzyz, years ago, opined “something’s bothering Bobby Hurley” when Coach couldn’t see anything wrong at all.
Mike was building up to how Mrs. Duke-Sheffsky prodded Coach to have Bobby Hurley come in for a meeting, just to see what the problem was.
Coach Krzyz: “And I found out that there WAS something wrong with Bobby Hurley.”
In the land of Those Not In The Employ of ESPN, the next question is, “So, what WAS wrong with Bobby Hurley? Did he oversleep and miss a mid-term? Was there a death in the family? Did he have car trouble? Did he need a few bucks to get a burger at the Student Union? Had he just broken up with his girlfriend? Did he forsee himself sucking in the NBA?”
Yup, I know that’s actually seven questions – but that shouldn’t excuse Reporter EspyTime from going into a shell when Coach said what he said.
Barr's follow-up question was: “We understand you have quite a flower garden. Is it YOUR flower garden?”
Was the “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape?” ending to the Bobby Hurley anecdote edited out by Mike himself? Does Duke-Sheffskee have some sort of a God complex wherein we’re watching the footage of an opposing player driving to the basket and, subsequently, getting bludgeoned by Shelden Williams five feet from a ref who cannot seem to operate the complicated whistle matrix of blowing to activate the tiny wooden ball rattling inside the chamber to produce a tweeeeeet sound … well, Coach Mike wants you to know that accusations of Duke “getting the calls,” well, you aren’t only hurting Duke University, you’re hurting the game when you make those accusations.
But, when you called Bobby Hurley into your office, what did you learn was wrong with him?
Interviews with Coach Kzyz-Kid-Gloves-ski always end up like this mostly because we eventually end up talking about what grows in Mike’s flower garden because reporters who can’t grow any ‘nads can’t seem to bring themselves to ask Mike about anything other than the awesomeness of Mike’s awesomeness.
Since EspyTime Theater doesn’t have anyone qualified to do more than lob softballs at ILoveDuke, citizens who are Non-Cameron Crazy should send someone who would engage in more “biting” dialogue.
That’s right … send in Triumph The Insult Comic Dog.
“Coach, you’re team looks very good this year. Good for me TO POOP ON!”
Don’t go poopies on the Dukies.
Let them go poopies on themselves in the Sweet 16.
(Note: Coach Duke-Sheffskee is the only coach in America exempt from answering questions when CBS shoves a microphone in his face as he walks off the court at halftime. That’s because, well … “Keep that mike away from Mike. Mike don’t wanna see the mike.” Double true!)
Finally, America has spent the past several days connecting with that autistic kid from Greece Athena High after seeing what he did in the final 4:17 vs. Spencerport.
I feel especially connected since the cigarettes I smoke come from the Tuscarora Indian Reservation next door to Lewiston, NY – and it’s only a 70-mile trip east along Route 104 from the Tuscarora Indian Reservation to the sleepy Rochester suburb of Greece (note: you can drive the same distance along Route 31 from the Tuscarora Indian Reservation to get to Spencerport).
Still, if I was the coach of Spencerport, I’d work on getting myself into Tues. nite’s sectional semifinal in which Greece Athena is participating.
“Say, Coach Johnson, good luck tonight. Wait … I see that your best shooter is on the bench in street clothes. Why isn’t that kid starting? I watched him scorch us for 20 points and drain six treys in the final four minutes … and he’s not starting? What’s that all about? Is he injured? Is he sick? If he’s hurtin’, pump him full of meds and get him out there. It’s every player’s dream to win a sectional championship. Please tell me that you didn’t let him play his final home game to exploit autism at the expense of my team.”
Hey, I don’t hate the kid.
I hate that EspyTime pissed all over every other “unfashionable” or “inconvenient” disability. For every “He’s One Of Us” feel-good stories, there’s several dozen autistic kids or kids w/ cerebal palsy or muscular dystrophy who are viewed as some sorta freak show by kids their own age.
Let’s hug Jason McElwain because, well … he's non-threatening and, besides, that weirdo over there, that dude’s retarded or something.
Oh, and don’t forget to look right through every person in a wheelchair.
They can’t ball.
Wanna go to the mall?
Get over yourselves, amputees and paraplegics. When you can stick the three like J-Mac, maybe EspyTime Theater can milk every drop from your story.
So, stop throwing your wheelchairs at the TV.
Stop actin’ all crippled and start accepting autism into your hearts.
It can’t be about you and your damn access ramps all the time …