Play-In Satisfaction: MORE HEAD!

Lousyville head coach Pricktino -- the Imperial Wizard of the #1 team in The Land -- ordered his players to watch the play-in game -- and, when it was over, he instructed them to get their minds right for Morehead.

A little later, many of those players spent a school night (unless it's Spring Break, I dunno) gettin' themselves more head.

'Cuz that's what play-yuhz on a new #1 team be doin'.

Gettin' more head.

Yes-indeedee ... Phil Simms U. dispatched that program (Alabama State) which we hope we never hear from again -- unless, of course, instead of a player named Grlenntys Chief Kickingtstallionsims, 'Bama State lands a recruit named Lieutenantcolonel Thrashinghammerheadjones, III.

As it was, Chief BirminghamstallionsofthedefunctUSFL didn't do much with his 7-foot-1 frame (0-3 FG, 2 rebs., 3 blk., 0 pts.) -- and Menji Mundadi wasn't much help (2 shots, both 3's, missed 'em both) in one of the worst rec-league games ever televised (despite Pusburger's 40 yrs. in broadcasting and Erin Andrews' 36-C's).

It might've been worth a hearty chuckle if a dozen MSU fans had circled Erin and began a chant of "MORE HEAD! MORE HEAD!" -- justifying their behaviour as "completely appropriate" when those who aren't hip to MSU school spirit questioned the "ritual" (read: public humiliation and/or human sacrifice).

As per the NCAA Intramural Invitational: The teams combined to shoot 36 of 108 ... 6 of 30 "from distance" ... w/ 21 turnovers for Morehead ... and 5-12 FT for 'Bama State.

"Onions!"

If ya spent more than 3 mins. watching, you either burned your retinas -- or you were thinking that more head from Lavin (in hi-def!) would've been better than quote-unquote "that shit."

Of course, if someone was bold enough to spend a minute or three over on Disneyland Sports 2 (watchin' the NIT w/ ND-UAB), he/she might've noticed that the crowd at N.D.'s Joyce Center was deader than Myles Brand's pancreas.

Yeah ... we understand that it's spring break and that the students who didn't go home are probably all huffing bars of Irish Spring and getting wasted at the Irish pub of their choosing in South BendOver.

Still, ya woulda figured that the crowd would've been a little more amped re: the dribbling acumen of Kyle McAlarney.

McAlarney is a very good dribbler.
Sooooo stylish ...
Bounce-bounce-bounce goes the ball ...
That kid's electric ...

"Onions!"

(OH, AND BY THE WAY ... THE NOTRE DUMB FARTING IRISH WERE, HANDS DOWN, THE BIGGEST DISAPPOINTMENT IN COLLEGE B-BALL IN '08/'09. A TOTAL FUCKING MYSTERY -- LOOK, NOBODY'S SAYIN' THAT ST. PATTY'S STATE IS A BUNCH OF PUSSIES (well, okay ... maybe we are ... "the proof is in the pudding" ... which is about as "soft" as N.D. was this season ... pudding ...) >>> OR MAYBE THE BLAME FALLS DIRECTLY ON MIKE BREY'S CLASSIC-AND-EXPENSIVE MOCK T's WHICH HE WEARS UNDER THAT BLAZER ... AND THERE GOES McALARNEY! ... BOUNCE-BOUNCE-BOUNCE GOES THE BALL ... LOOKIT THAT KID DRIBBLE DRIBBLE DRIBBLE ... WILL THAT STYLISH DRIBBLING BEST SUIT HIM NEXT YEAR IN MADRID OR ALBANIA?)

We're in for a doozy of offensive pyrotechnics in the days ahead ("on the offensive side of the ball" say Herb Kirkstreit and/or Todd McShame and/or Mel Kiper's Bouffant).

It's a pity that a coach can't pull Chef Killingpalaminosmith aside and quietly tell him, "It'd be nice if you got yer fuckin' 7-foot frame to actually care about what the fuck yer doin' out there," but, alas ... this is P.C.merica, so it's, "Swell job, big fella!"

Not around here, though.
Mild Marchness is quashed in its entirety as another Steeler DVD goes into the DVD player.

It's how we wash our hands of any personal involvement (particularly when that USA-Puerto Rico WBC epic finish is on the MLB Network, rather than DisneyTime TV).

Sorry 'bout that, Colonel Kissingscallionsims ...

Now, gotta get outta here before Digger's flourescent necktie and flourescent highlighter pen show up and pretend-to-know/begin-to-explain something/anything about more head ...

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Bracket Racket: "Jribble Jrive, Jrue!"

Any time we see NCAA b-ball brackets which look this totally awesome, it usually means that the stage is set for the funnest tournament ever. *

(* -- "funnest," in this case, might actually be a euphemism for "biggest pile of shit," but your mileage may vary ...)

Of course, for this to be the funnest tourney of the Y2Ks for FUCLA (Final 4 appearances the previous three seasons), we'll need to see if Jrue Holiday is up to the challenge.

How so?

BY TAKIN' IT TO THE RACK ... WITH THE JRIBBLE JRIVE!!!

God-frickin'-dammit-all ... this is gonna be the most off-the-hook tournament in the history of the universe ... what, with Chief Kickingstallionsims in the play-in game on Tues. and then Jrue Holiday jrainin' the jumper!

In fact, the only way this tourney could be any more awesomer than it'll already be would be if they used the same prop that the ol' MTV Rock N' Jock b-ball contests had back in the day -- a regular hoop-and-backboard paradigm, but with a ANOTHER HOOP (and net!) anchored to the top of the backboard.

For anyone who put a shot through ... 5 POINTS!

Digger: "Team X can get back in this game -- but only if they spread the court and hit those quintuples!"

Lavin: "Diagonal passing ..."

Raftery: "Send it in, Jerome!"

Wait ... when the flock did we start talking about "Jerome"?
This is 'sposed to be about Jrue.
And the jribble jrive ...
And jrainin' the jumper ...
Or jrawin' the foul ...
In jramatic fashion ..
While jrenched with sweat ...
In the huge win against Jrexel ...
Before the jrunk jrivin' arrest the night before the NBA Jraft ...
And gettin' jropped from the Grizzlies' wish list ...

By the way, what ever happened to the common spelling of the name "Jrue"?
Y'know ... "J-R-E-W"?
Ring any bells?

And, by the way (again), if Jribble-Jrive Jrue can't get it done with his jribble-jrivin' and his J-jrainin', dare we put all of our eggs into the basket of Steffphon Pettigrew of Western Kentucky?

That would be the logical move -- but only if Sttefffphhonn Petttigrrew was goin' one-on-one vs. Blaise Ffrench (now that we don't have Chief Kickingstallionsims to kick around any more).

WTF? Somebody somewhere said that Blaise Ffrench and his UTEP Miner teammates are playing in something called "the College Basketball Invitational Tournament" (which, from what they tell us, is approx. three notches below the I.M. hoops at most campuses).

Seriously ... Blaise Ffrench has two F's on the frontside of his last name.

Some people might opine that Jrue and Steffphon and Ffrench have names which are ffuckking idiotic -- but, those people are close-minded to the concept of The MTV 5-Point Shot.

And, maybe in those folks' office pools, they can't decide which way to lean on that breathtaking first-rounder.

ZAGS vs. ZIPS!

The first place to turn re: handicapping this barnburner (before we get jrowsy and jrift off to sleep) is Disneyland's B-Ball Channel ... and that 6-headed braintrust.

WHEN ______ MAKES THEIR SHOTS, THEY'RE AS GOOD AS ANY TEAM IN THE COUNTRY.

________ NEEDS TO REBOUND.

______ CAN'T TURN THE BALL OVER OR THEY'LL BE IN TROUBLE.

IT'LL BE INTERESTING TO SEE IF _______ CAN MATCH _______'S PHYSICALITY.

_________ HAS TO MAKE THEIR FREE THROWS OR THEY'LL BE IN TROUBLE.

________ HAS TREMENDOUS LENGTH (this one belongs to Atty. Bilas -- and since "height" is how we measure how tall a team is and "physicality" is how we measure a team's athleticism and toughness, it seems as though "length" is how we measure the size of the players' dongs ... nice work, Jay ... "permission to treat as hostile, Your Honour?")

IF ______ MAKES THEIR THREES, THEY'LL GO FAR.

________ PLAYS WITH A LOT OF COURAGE.

________ PLAYS WITH A LOT OF PASSION.

_______ HAS TO MAKE THEIR THREES ... AND NOT TURN THE BALL OVER ... AND REBOUND ...

________ IS A TERRIFIC COACH.

Gotta love the hoop-speak Mad Lib ...

Since Digger and Vitale are bigger spin doctors than most politician's PR staffs, we're never going to real opinions such as "_______ PLAYS LIKE A BIG PUSSY" ("I never said he IS a pussy ... he just plays like one") or "______ IS WORTHLESS AS A COACH" ("I never said he was worthless as an individual ... he just can't coach, that's all"), we're resigned to saying, "It is what it is" and then clicking the TV remote to something other than the soft-serve, creamy nonsense in a waffle cone which coll. BB dishes out.

Dickie V. maybe doesn't remember the MTV 5-point shot, but he'll sell ya lollipops and balloons, anyway.

Love that egghead. He reads from his Mad Libs sheet and says roughly the same 10 things each game.

(Note: The all-time best-ever description of a college b-ball star was offered almost 20 yrs. ago when Stanford's Aussie import Andrew Vlahov -- a thick, tough-as-nails power forward w/ a handshake like a vise-grip which he used to help the Cardinal win the '91 NIT title -- told my Mrs. that one of his teammates "squats when he pees" ... a quote which works best when used w/ either a real or fake Aussie accent)

We've got a lot of fellas in this tournament who squat when they pee (punchline: "... and when they're ready to take a dump, they stand upright and shit their shorts at the free-throw line.")

Some people figured that when President Oprah came into power, he'd clean up this frickin' mess.

Alas, President Oprah's father is a Kenyan dude -- and Kenyans have never had any pull in this tournament ... not the way that Sudanese refugees (such as Duany Duany and Kueth Duany) and Cameroonian tribesmen (such as Luc Richard Mbah a Moute or Frank Tchuisi) or Senegalese warlords (such as Bamba Fall, Samba Fall and Papa Dia) or Tanzanian superstars (such as Hasheem Thabeet) or the Nigerians (such as Olajuwon, Okafor and that guy Okalija) have.

Kenya might have had some teams which have won the Jungle Ball Invitational or the Congo Holiday Classic, but they can't hang w/ the American game.

Hence, the only way to dress up this pom-pom bore-a-thon is to bring back the Sheraton commercials from last season's tourney.

When Sorrycuse fan uses his forefinger to dab at the bleu cheese splotch on Georgeclown fan's moustache ... CHUBBY ALERT!

That is ... if you're gay.

If you're straight and interested in legit competition, you're gettin' your mind right because the Stanley Cup playoffs are right around the corner.

There's a red line and a blue line, but no 3-point line.

Gotta fix that.
Better use a jrill and a screwjriver.
Oh, and don't forget the jropcloth.
Or it's gonna be a real jrag ...

###

Overtime Crime (Times 6)

Ordinarily, when a game is tied following 40 minutes of regulation and five 5-minute OT sessions as the clock inches past 1 a.m., it's not difficult to imagine the typical American male lying in bed, checkin' out the action, glancing over at his lover (or life partner) and whispering, "Howzabout lettin' me nail you the way that Devendork is nailin' those J's."

It's almost impossible for that girl --- be it your spouse, someone else's spouse, a hooker (high-priced or crackhead) -- or that fella (be it closet gay, street hustler, NAMBLA text-message teen) to resist such a zinger of a hook and NOT slip off those scivvies and oblige.

Just goes to show -- a Thursday Night With Devendork tastes better when it turns into a Friday Morning With Devendork.

(Hint: So as nuthin' ends up "prematire," it's always best when you're "almost there" to close yer eyes and envision Boeheim ... sorta like the way he gives it to America up the poop chute every time his team takes the court)

It is ironic, isn't it? When an MLB game goes 17 or 18 innings, not too many Americans would ever call that "epic" or "Biblical" (although the same can't be said of the NFL or NHL because of the important element we know as "sudden death").

However, when an abortion of a ballgame betwixt Sorrycuse and AirCon goes deep into the night and when the afterbirth finally plops onto the asphalt in the wee hours (1:25 or thereabouts) of a Friday morning, it can often elicit powerful emotions from ESPN's play-by-play guy who called that game -- Pom-Pom Sean.

McDonough recapped the messiness in the following manner:
"We were especially privileged to be a part this et cetera et cetera et cetera, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda ..."

And, don't forget:
"We throw around words like 'courage' and 'heroic,' et cetera, et cetera and so forth and so on ... "

Seems as though Sean might've forgotten the word "bravery."
And "valour" ...
And "honour" ...
And "dignity" ...
And "fortitude" ...
And "passion" ...
And "zero grams trans-fat" ...

At first, it seemed as though Sean McDonough and much of America had completely lost their marbles, given that this was only a basketball game and nuthin' more.

Not mesothelioma research ...
Not mine-sweeping in Afghanistan ...

But, upon closer inspection, maybe America actually IS ready to embrace Devendork as its new B-Ball Messiah, just as it has embraced a Kenyan-American as its White House main squeeze.

40-Minute Devendork is nice ... but, Sextuple-OT Devendork ... that's a major chubby (although, when ya get right down to it, we can always DVR Devendork any time we want and then create a DVR Devendork Weekend Marathon ... as in "Devendork On Demand").

That kid's larger than life.
A little like Van Damme and Vin Deisel rolled into one.

Eric DeeVanDamme ...
Eric DeeVinDiesel.

And, isn't that what makes America (In Crisis) great?
Like Van Damme and Vin Diesel, DeeVanDamme isn't very talented, but, what makes him cuddly is the pasty-skin, the incomplete beard, the sleepy-eyed facial expression w/ mouth slightly agape and -- "wait for it" ... those tatts!

Yummy, yummy, yummy ...

When he leaped onto the courtside media table after he presumed that his end-of-regulation J had just made him King Of The Universe ... that was pure magic from The Deev.

Like the night before when he was talkin' shit, drainin' J's and then posin' with vanilla gangstuh gestures ...

"All y'all ... "

God bless, America ... and this (once-proud) nation under God is powerful because WE THE PEOPLE have forgiven Devendork for past indiscretions ... which is how Boeheim got Devendork's punching-in-the-face of a chick downgraded to (maybe) a slap ...

Before it was downgraded to (maybe) some mean words ...
Before it was downgraded to, yeah, it probably happened, but, c'mon, she's a chick and he's The Deeve -- and the beeee-yotch was probably askin' for it, y'know?

Oh ... and, in case anyone asks, the charisma of Boeheim is best-described in song, such as "who can take a rainbow / wrap it in a sigh / soak it in the sun / and make a groovy lemon pie / Jim Boeheim, man / Jim Boeheim, man, can ... "

Boeheim and Bernie Fine have created a legendary (who said anything about "outlaw"?) program (albeit one which, unlike the days of Tarkanian, doesn't usually win squat).

Anyway, the Sorrycuse Onganaets won because AirCon's clean program was 3 of 20 on 3-balls in the 6 OTs (Kemba Walker was 0 of 5).

While Jonny Flynn's 16-16 FT was very respectable and The Deev's 1 turnover in 61 minutes was impressive, this "one for the ages" concept needs to be stuffed into a Hefty trash bag and tossed into the dumpster.

Of course, if it's anyone from either roster doin' the tossin', get ready to chant "Airrrrrr-ballllll, airrrrr-ballll ..."

Now, go take your NCAA Sweet Sixteen losses like the brave little warriors Sean McDonough said you are ...

b

Marked For Death

According to Mark, the recent sequence of landmark events went like so: //// He capped another summer playing softball with the same guys he's played with for 15-20 yrs. and he went something like 17 for 19 in their final tournament of '08. //// Then, he turned 50 in November. //// Then, he underwent a CAT Scan to determine the cause of his frequent headaches -- andwas diagnosed with glioblastoma. ///// If we're compiling corresponding responses, it's: A) "Seriously? 17 for 19?" B) "50? Nice job, man ... " C) "Glioblastoma? That's a death sentence from which there is no escape." ///// Glioblastoma ... that shit takes ya down quick. ///// It's the same type of brain cancer which killed Johnny Oates (not to mention millions of others). ///// Just hearin' those words -- "brain tumor" or "brain cancer" -- it shakes ya up and reminds ya of what Pops went through. ///// They gave him 2 mos. to live and he extended it to 3. //// In the end, though, The Big C -- an arbitrary predator -- always wins. ///// And, glioblastoma is as bad as it gets. ///// In Mark's case, more tests are scheduled, but, according to those in the cancer community we've come to know in the past year, glioblastoma is ruthless ... serving up turbo-charged punishment. //// It's a guarantee that Mark'll be dead within 2 yrs. ///// Ya simply cannot outrun The Big C. ///// It definitely hits home when you yourself are saddled w/ three gigantic risk factors -- 1) Your Zodiac sign is Cancer 2) Your wife is recovering from breast cancer 3) You're sucking down another Marlboro (as you've done for 26 yrs. in a row) ... not necessarily in that order. //// What else hits home: Mark's face when he stopped by today. He used to look a little like Ed Harris with hair ... but, not so anymore. ///// Dude was unrecognizable. ///// He looked nothing like the guy we've known for yrs. ... the friend who brought Zo-Zo to the D.P. and then was a patient receiving treatment for neck pain two years ago. //// Today? That WAS NOT Mark. //// It didn't look anything like him. ///// Cancer drugs'll do that to a fella ... it matters not if you've got a large family ... or if you're a single guy who happens to sell insurance ... and enjoys takin' his rescue Golden to the D.P. //// He can still do that ... but, softball must seem like a memory. ///// For those of us who played against him, it was easy to classify him as a classic softball rat. //// Not a He-man super-mashing ball-smasher, but constant in his constant line-drive production and goo enough wheels to scoot around the bases and cover some ground in LF. ///// He was playin' second base when I cranked that double down the RF line and as I arrived at second, he remarked that I should be doin' that EVERY at-bat. ///// Maybe he noticed that I wasn't especially motivated playing with a bunch of strangers who didn't seem to give a crap (which, invariably, always affects my focus). ///// Softball and cancer ... it's reminiscent of the time when non-Hodgkins lymphoma sidelined Johnny A. -- the ultimate No. 3 hitter -- for almost the entire '95 season. ///// When ya see something like that, you can either offer up platitudes -- or you can shave yer head for a fallen brother before affixing a "34" decal (no larger than a postage stamp) to the lower left sleeve of your softball shirt. ///// Not everybody understands such gestures ... because not everybody acknowledges the line between talking about something and doing something about it. ///// It's true: 100 yrs. ago, when somebody had cancer, that person was said to have tuberculosis and/or dementia ... and when the morphine ran out, that somebody was dead at age 34. ///// Now that I'm in my third year of softball retirement (not so much by choice), there's not softball shirt on which to apply an "MK" decal. ///// Was it really 5 yrs. ago when the Fightin' Phils Phamily lost three guys to aggressive brain cancers within a year? //// Ken Brett (at age 55) in Nov. '03 ... followed by Tug McGraw five days into '04 (at age 59) ... and then Oates (at age 58) seven days before the end of '04. //// Two years ago, John Vukovich checked out during spring training two years ago (age 59). ///// Those guys were lost their battles -- and Mark's gonna lose his. //// And, I don't know if memories of 17 for 19 in a softball tournament is enough to sustain a fella through such difficulty. ///// It's a fuckin' rip-off, that's what it is ... ///// + + +

Blake Griffin's Saving-The-Ball Replay (Times 10)

Blake Griffin saved the ball from going out of bounds.

Then, Blake Griffin saved it again ...

And again ....

And again ....

Then again (from a different angle) ....

And, again (from the same angle as Saves #1 thru #4) ...

Then, Blake Griffin saved the ball again ...

And then Blake Griffin saved the ball again (same camera angle as before, only, this time, the Disneyland Basketball Channel superimposed a mini graphic of Steve Phillips' head and spliced in a telephone interview about how Blake Griffin demonstrated amazing leadership blah blah blah ...

And, then, finally, Blake Griffin saved the ball again (same camera angle as before, only, this time, the Disneyland Basketball Channel super-imposed a mini graphic of Mark Schlereth's head accompanied by the audio of a telephone interview in which Schlereth explained how Blake Griffin displayed incredible desire and leadership yadda yadda yadda ...

Is ESPN really THAT fucking stupid -- or does ESPN think you are THAT fucking stupid?

Blake Griffin's headlong dive over the scorer's table to save a ball headed out of bounds was about as moronic as it gets.

ESPN's All-Star Tribute To Blake Griffin Saving The Ball Heading Out Of Bounds was equally ridiculous.

Completely mind-boggling ...

THIS WAS NOT BLAKE GRIFFIN diving into the crowd where 3 or 4 fans could've cushioned his fall.

No, this time, he had a very REAL chance to land in the walkway behind the table and injure his wrist, elbow or shoulder.

But, since every on-camera joker at ESPN is a queen-sized pussy, nobody's going to have the guts to tell America how idiotic that play was.

So, we must ask, the next time that Blake Griffin runs into the middle of traffic on the busy interstate to save a bag of Goldfish crackers that a little girl in the car ahead of him accidentally dropped out the window, maybe ESPN can place the Steve Phillips mugshot on our TV screen and have him offer a sound-byte from his sex-addict daze ... when he maybe banged a teenager (boy or girl, it don't really matter ... he's a recovering addict, remember?) or two on the way home from Shea Stadium.

Now, THAT'S quality TV!

The visual: Griffin scooping up the Goldfish while diving out of the way of an 18-wheeler ...

The audio: Steve Phillips educating America re: curtains-matching-carpet ...

b