Continue Reading April 24th, 2008
There are still many unanswered questions about the world in which we live, but science has proven two things: Hot chicks rule (see above) and it becomes increasingly difficult to think the closer we get to the weekend. So I’m here to let you know what you should look out for in tonight’s NBA playoff games.
Orlando versus Toronto: Game 3
Dwight Howard: Somebody call General Zod, and fast! Superman is averaging 27 PPG and 21 RPG in the playoffs. Those are, like, Wilt Chamberlain numbers. He’s also shooting 67 percent from the field and blocking four shots per game. The Raptors have to slow this guy down, or else they’ll get a one-way trip to the NBA tar pits.
The first quarter: Orlando outscored Toronto by 20 points in the first quarter of Game 1 (43-23) and by 17 in the first quarter of Game 2 (35-18). I hate to sound like Mr. Obvious here, but the Raptors can’t afford to keep spotting the Magic double-digit leads.
T.J. Ford: In the first two games of this series, Ford has scored a total of 11 points on 2-for-17 shooting. In Game 2, he had only 6 assists and 4 turnovers. How can the Raptors fix this problem: I have a two-word answer for you: Jose Calderon.
Three-point shooting: The Magic shot 45 percent (13-for-29) from beyond the arc in Game 1 and won going away. They shot 29 percent (9-for-31) in Game 2 — with Rashard Lewis (0-for-9) and Hedo Turkoglu (0-for-4) laying most of the brickwork — and barely escaped with a one-point win. Orlando relies on the three-ball. They’ll need to hit a high percentage of them to win Game 3 on the road.
Jason Kapono: He’s back! Kapono — left for dead by Raptors fans and Toronto coach Sam Mitchell — is scoring 19 PPG and shooting 67 percent from the field in the playoffs. Nobody saw that coming…
Jameer Nelson: In my series preview, I said that guard play was Orlando’s biggest weakness. Enter Jameer Nelson. He’s hand-feeding me my own words by scoring a total of 42 points and shooting 13-for-23 from the field in the first two games.
Rasho Nesterovic: This guy’s been on fire for the last month and a half — just check out his game log — and he had 16 points and 8 rebounds in Game 1. Yet in Game 2, he played only five minutes, scoring 2 points (1-for-1) and doing nothing else except committing a foul. And rumor has it that Rasho could be benched for Game 3 in favor of Jason Kapono. And people wonder why Raptors fans don’t trust Sam Mitchell.
Cleveland versus Washington: Game 3
LeBron and DeShawn: Stevenson has the bigger mouth, but King James has the bigger game. So far in these playoffs, LeBron is averaging 31 PPG on 55 percent shooting to go along with 7.5 RPG and 8.0 APG. Meanwhile, DeShawn has scored a total of 15 points on 5-for-16 shooting. It’s safe to say that Stevenson probably spent his day off looking for Doc Brown and his time-travelling Delorean…because he’d really like to go back in time and retract that whole “overrated” comment. Fun fact: 1.21 Gigawatts!!
Gilbert Arenas: Gil came back from knee surgery — and it’s pretty clear he’s not fully recovered from it — only to sprain his right wrist in time for the playoffs. Greeeeat. If his Game 2 performance is any indication (7 points, 2-for-10 shooting, 3 turnovers), then Agent Zero might be just plain zero for the rest of the series.
Wally Szczerbiak: He must be drinking the same rejuvenation serum that Jason Kapono’s using, because Wally World is back. Well, he was in Game 2, anyway (15 points, 6-for-9 shooting). They might be able to overcome the Wizards without him, but the Cavaliers really need Szczerbiak’s stretch-the-floor shooting if they’re going to make a run in the second round.
Hack-A-Bron: The Wizards spent the first two games beating up on LeBron — or trying to, anyway — and those games were in Cleveland. Somehow I don’t think they’re going to put on the kid gloves now that they’re playing at home. The Cavaliers medical staff better stock up on Arnica…King James is gonna need it.
Brendan Haywood: He’s really been channeling his inner Bill Laimbeer in this series. In Game 1, he knocked LeBron to the floor and then stood over him menacingly (or at least as menacingly as Haywood can stand). In Game 2, he flagrantly fouled Bron-Bron while he was attempting a dunk, sending the King flying out of bounds. It’s like the Bad Boy Pistons all over again. What’s next? A hip-check? A shoulder-tackle? A clothesline? Maybe a Jake the Snake-style DDT? The possibilities are endless!
Bench play: Neither team’s bench has done much. Who’s going to step up and make an impact? Boobie Gibson? Rober Mason? Anderson Varejao? Oleksiy Pecherov, maybe? Nobody? I’ll go ahead and choose that last one.
Houston versus Utah: Game 3
Home cookin’: You’ve probably already read and/or heard this a zillion times. Let’s make it one zillion and one: The Jazz are an NBA-best 37-4 at home. After two close wins on the road, I think the Jazz are going to blow the doors off of this one. Sorry, Rockets.
Tracy McGrady: He can be Michael Jordan through three quarters but transforms into Pete Myers in the fourth. (And I mean the basketball player, not the Love Guru.) Which is just one of the many reasons why T-Mac will never, ever know what it feels like to compete in a second-round playoff series.
Deron Williams: If you look up “impose your will” on Urban Dictionary, you’ll see a picture of Williams playing against the Houston Rockets. At least, you will if they approve my submission. Anyway, Deron is having his way with the Rockets: 21 PPG, 56 percent shooting, 67 percent from beyond the arc, 7.5 assists. And those numbers don’t show how much control he’s had over the first two games.
Rafer Alston: I can’t believe I’m saying this — and I’m not sure these words were ever meant to be strung together in any language — but the Rockets cannot win, or even compete in this series without Mr. Skip To My Lou. He’s the only player on Houston other than McGrady who can get his own shot and create offense for other players. He’s supposed to be back for Game 3…but it might already be too late. And even if he is back, will that strained hamstring hold him back?
Andre Kirilenko and Matt Harpring: Their offense is a boost, but their real contribution to this series has been their defense on Tracy McGrady. Kirilenko uses his length to bother T-Mac’s shot, and Harpring likes to get physical with the Rockets’ star. In point of fact, McGrady turned “Banging with Matt Harpring” into a household phrase after Game 2. (Okay, not really, but I like to imagine that it’s become a household phrase.) I’m guessing we’ll see more of the same in Game 3.
Rebounding: The Jazz haven’t had a clear-cut advantage on the board so far in this series — they’re up by five over two games — but the numbers are a little deceiving. Utah has been getting to key offensive rebounds, and they really hit the boards at home. If the Rockets don’t protect their defensive glass, this game won’t even be a contest.
Rookies: Come game time, Rick Adelman is going to be looking down his bench at a lot of inexperience - Aaron Brooks, Carl Landry and Mike Harris - and praying that one of them, any of them, can do something to help out.
Continue Reading April 24th, 2008
Big Daddy Drew’s Thursday Afternoon NFL Dick Joke Jamboroo has been off since the end of the NFL season. But now, with Saturday’s NFL draft looming, it returns, for one week only.
It’s here? It’s finally here? OH THANK YA SWEET JESUS, IT’S FINALLY HERE!!!! Every year, March rolls around and I think to myself, “Goddammit, where is the fucking draft already?” Yes, I know it’s on the same weekend every year. But man oh man, does it take fucking forever to arrive.
It’s been three full months without any football. Three long. shitty, rainy, cold months. I’d like to extend a hearty FUCK YOU to February, March and April, three months on the calendar that serve no purpose other than to slowly deprive me of my will to live. Especially you, April: with your half-sunny, half-rainy days, and your wild fluctuations in temperature. PICK A GODDAMN WEATHER PATTERN AND STICK WITH IT. I’m tired of needing a jacket in the morning, only to have the interior of my car hit 9000 degrees by the time I pull out of work.
I’d also like to extend a hearty FUCK YOU to people who snidely look down on the draft and on people who enjoy it. That means you, Mike Wilbon.
It’s a nuisance, made-for-TV-by-TV event for people who couldn’t tell a left tackle from a right guard, or zone from man-to-man coverage to save their mamas’ lives.
Really? That’s odd, because I’ve found that the draft is an event made specifically for people who can deduce such things. Like me! I know the difference between a left tackle and right guard. A left tackle plays on the LEFT! And has to protect the passer’s blind side. And a right guard plays on the RIGHT! And sometimes has to pull! I knew that! Amazing, but true!
I also know that man-to-man coverage involves having the defensive player “cover” the offensive player one-on-one! Who would have thought a fan of the NFL might know basic things about the NFL? Surely, only a trained journalist could possibly know such things. And the biggest miracle of all is that I don’t watch the telecast from my mother’s basement!
Choke on Barkley’s dick, Wilbon.
And you, Will Leitch! Yes you, you raging anti-draftite! You too can help yourself to a heaping spoonful of my dick milk. (Ed. Note: AGAIN?)
We were excited at the beginning, fooling ourselves into believing the recitation of names of people we don’t know for four hours could be a scintillating experience, and watching Brady Quinn lose millions of dollars every 15 minutes kept our interest for a while too. But once he was drafted, we were out of steam and ready to watch, you know, actual sporting events where people run and jump and move around.
Well, aren’t you just a little smartypants. Yes, I think it’s just HI-larious how, every year, you (all one of you!) remind me that the draft is just the recitation of names. You really put the draft in its place. It’s just names being listed! It’s so clever how you boiled it all down to that! Don’t I feel goofy now! I could attend the end of any college graduation, and it would be EXACTLY the same! How silly of me to actually care which players will be joining my team. Why don’t you go listen to NPR and write something for McSweeney’s, you fucking twee assfingerer.
Here’s the thing, Leitch. Your favorite team plays 162 games every year (and this year, only 162). That gives you 162 chances to bust out your Ankiel doll and put on a 3-hour showing of “Leitch And The Real Rick.” My favorite team plays 16 times a year. That’s it. That’s all I fucking get. Sixteen chances to get blotto and yell at Brad Childress for having Adrian fucking Peterson return kickoffs. So you’ll excuse me if I find those names being recited just a tad important.
I’m well aware that no actual football is played during the draft. But it’s not as if it’s the only non-game sports programming in the world that people enjoy. No games are played on PTI. No games are played here on Deadspin. But who gives a fuck? They’re still entertaining. Part of the reason I watch sports is so I can talk about them. And lo and behold! Here, before us, is a very long sporting event, which gives NFL fans like me lots and lots to talk about. Gee, I wonder if that might interest people?
So if you don’t like the NFL Draft, and if you just can’t possibly fathom how the unwashed masses could enjoy such a thing, please consider yourself cordially invited to stick your scrotum in a fucking Cuisinart. It’s the NFL Draft, and this is your NFL Draft Jamboroo.
All aspects of the NFL Draft are evaluated for sheer watchability and or awesomeness on a scale of 1 to 5 Throwgasms.
Five Throwgasms
Cutting The Time Between Selections From 15 Minutes To 10: This year’s draft starts at 3 p.m., three hours later than usual (BOOOOOOOO!!!!!!). But there is some good news. The NFL, at long last, has cut down the first round selection clock by 5 minutes. If Roger “The Ginger Hammer” Goodell leaves any legacy upon the league, apart from suspending all the black players, it will be this. The pace of the ceremony has been upgraded from glacial to downright slug-like. Whoa whoa whoa… stop this draft! It’s all happening so not-quite-as-slow now! It’s gone to plaid!
Mock Drafts: The Gregg Easterbrooks of the universe just adore telling you how pointless mock drafts are. “Why, those mock drafts never turn out to be 100 percent accurate, don’t you know. (smells own fart)” That’s not the point of mock drafts. The point of mock drafts is to let me know which players are currently meriting first round consideration, and to give me an approximate sense of where they’re being slotted. That way, I can figure out which players I’d like my team to draft (Joe Flacco can throw far? That makes him way better than Tarvaris Jackson!), who I hope falls to them, etc.
Once I’m familiar with how the mock drafts are trending (apologies for that word, it’s result of watching too much political coverage), I can then get into the drama of the real draft. I can express surprise should a player like Leodis McKelvin, whom I have never seen, slip down the board. I can cry out in disbelief should a player like Flacco go in the Top 15 (”Reeeaccchhhh!!!!”).
You see, mock drafts help educate me, the fan. No, I haven’t watched many of these players play football. It’s just not feasible, given my schedule, and how much of that schedule is allocated for masturbation. That’s why we have mock drafts. They’re learning tools. And that’s why I enjoy the draft itself. It’s for learning. That’s right, you anti-draftites. I’m the educated one! Plus, I get to drink and ignore house projects as I learn. And that’s awesome.
Mel Kiper Jr.: After my team drafts a player, I rely on Mel to get me properly excited about his prospects. And what he needs to work on! What’s that, Mel? He’s got great agility? NICE. Excellent lateral movement? Fucking double nice. Bit of a tweener? Oh, I don’t like the sound of that. But he’s explosive off the edges?! (creams jeans)
Booing: Nothing beats a cocky young player being booed on the best day of his professional life. That’ll knock you down a peg, Golden Boy. I also like it when the crowd lets out a collective, sarcastic laugh at a shitty pick. The Raiders took Sebastian Janikowski? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! What a bunch of retards.
Watching The Entire Draft If You’re A Fan Of The Cowboys: Are you a Dallas fan? Holy shit, are you in luck! The draft lasts a combined 17 hours or so, and ESPN spends, oh, about 16 of those hours TALKIN’ BOUT DEM COWBOYS! NYEEEEHAWWWWW! THIS IS DOUBLE J’S DAY TO SHINE, CHUBBY RAIN!!! I, for one, welcome ESPN’s efforts to turn the NFL into a one-team league. Look at the great job they did turning baseball into a two-team affair. God, if only the NFL could be just like that!
Morons.
Unfortunately, there won’t be any Emmitt for this year’s draft. Which is too bad, because I was crazy excited to hear him talk about a player’s agulation, not to mention lazurus quickness, excellenteration, and overall dexatrim. Taking Matt Ryan at Number 3? That is a fucking Debalkanization!
The Draft As A Harbinger Of Spring: They say March 21 is the beginning of spring, but it’s usually not until mid to late April when you start seeing the ladies around town rocking hot sundresses and strappy sandals, with their cleavage bouncing to and fro. Now THAT is spring, my friends. Those ladies are just so eager for warm weather, so happy to rid themselves of all those cumbersome winter clothes, that they merrily strip down to all but the bare essentials. Ladies, I support you wholeheartedly in such efforts. Let those puppies roam free!
Nothing beats sitting outside at a bar on a cold spring day and just watching the parade of lovely ladies pass by. I tell you, people-watching is 100 percent more awesome when there are tits out and about.
Highlights of Previous Draft Moments: Oh Jets, will you ever stop being clueless for drafting Jeff Lageman? Fuck and no. (Actually, Lageman turned out to be pretty good.)
Player Highlights: I don’t give a fuck about interviewing the draftees after they’ve been selected. I DIDN’T DRAFT YOU TO TALK, BOY! I just want to watch the five-minute, Kiper-narrated highlight reel of you fucking shit up. Running. Jumping. Tackling. Exhibiting a callous disregard for your own body. That’s good stuff.
Trades: Trades rule. I’m convinced people like Belichick trade constantly during the draft just so they can have something to do. Only thing that sucks about draft day trades is, once a trade is made, the draft clock gets fucking reset. GAHHHHHHH!!!!!! You traded up because you knew who you wanted, Jerry Jones. Just go fucking pick him already.
Four Throwgasms
The Fact That The Draft Lasts Forever: Okay, so the whole thing drags a bit. So flip over to something else for a bit. Check out the day’s token Horrible, Early Eastern Conference Playoff Game. Or watch a flick. Or go to the gym. When you’re back, there’ll only have been three new picks! You didn’t miss jack shit. Draft weekend means there’s always something interesting to tune into. You can season the rest of your TV watching with bits of draft from here and there. In fact, last weekend, the NFL Network replayed last year’s draft IN ITS ENTIRETY. It made for excellent commercial break filler. That vest on Brady Quinn is just as gay this year as it was back then.
Chris Mortensen: Mort’s wrong a lot, unless he’s reporting something that’s just been reported somewhere else. But he’s right at least 2 percent more often than Mike Florio, and that makes him the best in the business. Cutting to Mort during a draft means he’s got a potentially explosive non-scoop, and that gets me all atwitter.
In general, I RELY on Mort to be wrong, because it helps make the draft surprising. If there’s any news event that stands to benefit from shoddy reporting, it’s the draft. Accurate reporting just makes the thing predictable. I don’t know why ESPN tries so hard to figure out who’s drafting whom. Don’t tell me! I like surprises, you fuckers!
I watched an NBA Draft once where Hubie Brown guessed every pick correctly, and well before the picks were turned in. You know what, Hubie? You aren’t helping, Coach MeltyFace. ESPN should follow the lead of the league’s GMs and do everything in their power to throw us off. Throw out signals that St. Louis is drafting Chris Long, so that when they draft Vernon Gholston, I am positively AGHAST.
Watching A Player Talk On His Cell Phone: Who’s he talking to? It might be the President! Of the Titans!
Three Throwgasms
Forgetting To Draft In Your Slot: The Vikings slipped two spots in the 2003 draft (from 7 to 9), when the clock ran out on them. They ended up with Kevin Williams, an All-Pro, for less than they would have paid him at the 7 spot. The two teams leapfrogging the Vikes were the Jags, who took Byron Leftwich (sucked), and the Panthers, who took Jordan Gross (okay). So the Vikings, despite their astonishing idiocy, ended up in a better position than if they had drafted on time. AND they helped shorten the draft. That’s why I suggest that, this year, the Rams let time expire on their #2 overall pick and drop all the way down to the 32nd pick. That way, the entire first round will last seven minutes.
Mike Florio at Pro Football Talk has warned for years that some team will eventually purposely let time run out. And I’m all for it. Rookies are wildly overpaid in the NFL. No team really WANTS to throw $30 million at an untested QB prospect. It’s just kinda what they have to do, given that there’s no rookie cap. I’m waiting for the draft where one team says, “No way, FUCK that shit,” and just purposely drops like a stone, only to have other teams follow suit and turn the whole thing into a giant game of “No, YOU Go!” C’mon Rams, grow a pair now that the old lady’s dead and buried.
Two Throwgasms
NFL Network coverage: Still a little QVCish there, NFLN. I’m too used to ESPN’s annoying coverage to switch over to your annoying coverage.
The Redskins Having A First Round Pick: But it’s so much more fun when they have to sit it out! C’mon Danny Boy. Just ONE more first rounder and Ocho Cinco is all yours!
General Manager Interviews: Happy with your pick? That’s surprising, because I thought it ate a fat dick.
War Room Shots: The ties are off. The sleeves are rolled up. Sandwiches are stacked in an artful pyramid on a nearby buffet. Three kinds of juice are out. These people mean fucking business.
One Throwgasm
Berman
Everyone Getting A Jersey With A Number One On It: This isn’t Kiddie League Teeball. There’s only one #1 pick, and that’s the only guy who should get to hold up a #1 jersey. After that, you should get a jersey with a number that corresponds to your draft slot. The #1 jersey makes all the white players look like kickers, and all the black players look like Warren Moon.
Graphics: You’ll see the Patriots’ panoply of selections 88 times before you get to see your own team’s. Flipping back and forth during the telecast means you will, without fail, come onto the draft scroll JUST after your team’s selection has passed by. Grrrrrr.
Film Analysis Segments With Jaws And Hoge: I love Jaws, but the whole reason I watch football is so I don’t have to play it, and therefore study it. Booooring.
Player Interviews With Stuart Scott: “How’s it feel to be the #1 pick?!” Oh, I can probably venture a guess.
The Next Four Months: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
Predraft Song That Makes Me Want To Run Through A Goddamn Brick Wall
“War Pigs”, by Black Sabbath. Few people know that “War Pigs” was actually Dick Cheney’s wedding song.
Embarassing Single I Once Owned That Will Not Fire You Up
“Poison,” by Alice Cooper. I forgot about this one. Peep the 1:45 mark in the video. Alice was smart enough to know any video he appeared in also needed a solid bounty of hot chicks to restore balance to the universe. Look out, Alice! That brunette’s poisoned you! With Alka Seltzer! Plop plop, fizz fizz, you dead!
Fantasy Player That Deserves To Die A Slow, Painful Death
No one this week. But mark my words, come fall, that Michael Turner’s gonna find a way to fuck you.
Drafttime Snack Of The Week
Teddy Grahams. Can’t get enough those Teeeeedy Grahams! Nabiiisco! Ooooooh!
Ever have two Teddy Grahams do a 69 on each other? I have. And I’m not talking about when I was a kid. I did it, like, yesterday. It’s even hotter when you do it with a Honey Teddy and a Chocolate Teddy. That’s some solid interflavorial bearbanging right there.
Drafttime Beer Of The Week
Anchor Steam! The name makes me think of dropping anchor. And Cleveland steamers. The amber hue is no help, either. Good beer, though. It rises well above its poop juice connotations.
Sunday Afternoon Movie Of The Week For Browns Fans (No 1st Round Pick)
Into The Wild. I really liked Into The Wild. But I couldn’t help but point out all the things Christopher McCandless did wrong that Bear Grylls NEVER would have done. Staying in a Magic Bus for seven weeks? Fool! Out in the wild, YOU’VE GOT TO KEEP MOVING! If only Bear had been around back then to educate Chris, to let him know you NEVER go out into the wild without a water bottle, a knife, a flint and a 20-man camera crew. And a helicopter escort. And a sumptuous mid-day buffet for everyone. Also, Bear would have nailed the shit out of Kristen Stewart. C’mon, man. She was dying for it.
What an idiot. Still smarter than Timothy Treadwell, though.
Gratuitous Simpsons Quote
“Spare me your euphemisms. It’s fat camp for Daddy’s chubby little secret!”
Halftime Masturbation Kit
***For the guys: Round Two with Hayden Panettiere. On “Heroes,” she can heal from any injury. Does that mean a fresh hymen every time? I think it does.
***For the gals: A buck naked Keanu Reeves. You know, looking at a still picture of Keanu Reeves and looking at a moving picture of Keanu Reeves offer pretty much the exact same experience.
Blatantly False, ProFootballTalk-Style, Fred Edelstein-esque Rumor Of The Week
WE HEAR… that Bill Parcells really hopes to trade down and amass extra picks. Know who else is hoping to trade down and amass extra picks? EVERYONE.
Your Motivational Predraft Quote for The Weekend
“In such a situation, you have no time to think. Instinct takes over. It’s either kill… or be killed.”
-Louis Winthorp III
Enjoy the draft, everyone. See you back here in September when the Jamboroo returns.
From the Dallas hub of the Department of Lunatics comes this head-scratching lawsuit courtesy of the one and only Jonathan Lee Riches, a man serving time in a federal penitentiary in South Carolnia for wire fraud, but who chooses to pass his time by exercising his right to file ridiculous lawsuits against as many celebrities as possible. So far, Riches has unsuccessfully sued Bill Belichick, Michael Vick, George W. Bush, Martha Stewart, Perez Hilton and many others. Most of his suits have been dismissed by trial judges for being “frivolous” and “farcical.” 
The Tracy McGrady death watch will continue tonight in Salt Lake City, where authorities are planning a raid on the McGrady compound after reports of multiple episodes of martyrdom. It’s all getting ugly for Tracy.
So, now that Pacman Jones has joined the Dallas Cowboys, we ask: How will he deal with the 
