It's time for the Love in the Time of LeBron 2010 Season Team Previews. You know how we do. Next up, the defending champions, the Los Angeles Lakers.
Classification
Winners
Why We Care
The past two years they have won the NBA championship and the have given every indication that they intend to win again. No one will be surprised if they do. The Lakers are the best proven team in basketball and only got better in the off-season. Kobe Bryant is a genius and no matter how much Pau Gasol is praised, he is underrated. We love Lamar and Ron with no apologies to anyone. This team, even without Kobe Bryant, is a very good contender. With Kobe Bryant, they frighten me. This team is a force of nature. A typhoon, an earthquake, a plague of locusts. We watch them because it would be dangerous to leave them unwatched.
Significant Beards
Ron Artest: Goatee. Thin, neat, slightly debonaire.
Matt Barnes: Smudge beard. Please erase.
Shannon Brown: Unremarkable goatee. B+ for participation.
Andrew Bynum: Barely there. Beard tease.
Derek Fisher: Barely perceptible box-goatee. Don’t squint.
Pau Gasol: Drama major beard. Understudy at best.
Lamar Odom: Big head, tiny soul patch.
Guiding Text
Thus Spake Zarathustra
If They Were A Late-90’s Teen Movie They Would Be...
She's All That
LeBron on the Lakers
Hell no. No way. This couldn’t happen. It was an outrage, a sin, a shame. A travesty, a disaster, a catastrophe. A farce, a mockery, a cruel sick joke. He felt sick. He was going to vomit. No he wasn’t. He took a deep breath, remembered some of the techniques Phil had taught him. He took a deep breath. It would be fine. It didn’t matter. It would be fine. None of it mattered except what he could control. Yet, surely he could control this. Surely, he had the clout. He could make a scene, make threats. He probably wouldn’t have to. This was his town. He could change this, he could stop this. Should he?
Would they question his motives? What would they say? Would he care what they said? He was golden now. Untouchable. Unable to be touched. It didn’t matter what they said. They could say anything. What if they said “Colorado”? He paused. His chest felt tight and he wasn’t sure if he was breathing right. He felt nauseous. No. He would be bigger. “It’s all about the team.” Putting his pride first wouldn’t be tolerated. Putting his personal feelings and his pride above everything else would make him a marked man. They would turn against him. They couldn’t turn against them. But what if they did? He vomited.
LeBron actually laughed out loud at the thought.
Kobe slept soundly.
Rosetta Stone
This pretty much explains it.
Showing posts with label lakers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lakers. Show all posts
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Why The Lakers Will Win/Lose
I was watching the first game of the Finals and I was really impressed by how well the Lakers were playing. Then I saw this interview with Kobe. In this rad little piece, he talks about how he was influenced by the styles of lots of the great players before him. Seeing that, combined with the Lakers play convinced me that the Lakers could very well sweep.
Impressive stuff, Kobe. Then I had the misfortune of seeing this.
This is a clip from Keeping Up with the Kardashians, the reality show about the Kardashian family. Lamar Odom, power forward for the Lakers, is married to Khloe Kardashian. In this clip, Khloe works on a sexy video for Lamar. The key section of the clip involves a topless Khloe lounging in a bath tub full of candy. This is because, as you may have heard, Lamar Odom enjoys candy. He also presumably enjoys his naked wife. Obviously, the combination of the two things then must logically be incredibly sexy to Lamar. That being said: OH MY GOD, MY EYES.
Incidentally, in case you had a case of deja vu set off by the Khloe-covered-in-candy-because-of-Odom center of your brain, it's probably because you remember this story, which is about the time Khloe woke up confused and covered in melted chocolate because Lamar apparently stashed a ton of it in their bed and fell asleep before eating it all.
Yeah, gross. This is the kind of challenging background research I do for this blog. You are welcome.
Oh right, and now for the trenchant analysis you came here for: There is no way in hell that the Lakers can win because Lamar + Khloe + candy = DIVINE DISFAVOR. Sorry, Kobe, your good karma and respect for your fore-bearers can't undo the black magic of reality stars.
Here is a video from last year about how much Lamar loves candy.
Here is a clip of Lamar eating a PowerBar Energy Gel Blast which is apparently like candy but helps you dunk on the moon.
Here is the trailer from the 1992 horror film, "Candyman."
Here is the place where I made a joke about Lamar Odom and "Candyman" before, because I am a hack with recycled jokes.
Here is the place where I would have put the video to that Christina Aguilera song, "Candyman," but didn't because the world is cruel enough already and I am so sorry about that Keeping Up With the Kardashians video.
I'm so sorry.
Impressive stuff, Kobe. Then I had the misfortune of seeing this.
This is a clip from Keeping Up with the Kardashians, the reality show about the Kardashian family. Lamar Odom, power forward for the Lakers, is married to Khloe Kardashian. In this clip, Khloe works on a sexy video for Lamar. The key section of the clip involves a topless Khloe lounging in a bath tub full of candy. This is because, as you may have heard, Lamar Odom enjoys candy. He also presumably enjoys his naked wife. Obviously, the combination of the two things then must logically be incredibly sexy to Lamar. That being said: OH MY GOD, MY EYES.
Incidentally, in case you had a case of deja vu set off by the Khloe-covered-in-candy-because-of-Odom center of your brain, it's probably because you remember this story, which is about the time Khloe woke up confused and covered in melted chocolate because Lamar apparently stashed a ton of it in their bed and fell asleep before eating it all.
Yeah, gross. This is the kind of challenging background research I do for this blog. You are welcome.
Oh right, and now for the trenchant analysis you came here for: There is no way in hell that the Lakers can win because Lamar + Khloe + candy = DIVINE DISFAVOR. Sorry, Kobe, your good karma and respect for your fore-bearers can't undo the black magic of reality stars.
Here is a video from last year about how much Lamar loves candy.
Here is a clip of Lamar eating a PowerBar Energy Gel Blast which is apparently like candy but helps you dunk on the moon.
Here is the trailer from the 1992 horror film, "Candyman."
Here is the place where I made a joke about Lamar Odom and "Candyman" before, because I am a hack with recycled jokes.
Here is the place where I would have put the video to that Christina Aguilera song, "Candyman," but didn't because the world is cruel enough already and I am so sorry about that Keeping Up With the Kardashians video.
I'm so sorry.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
The Playoffs That Broke My Spirit
I haven't been writing a lot in this space, and while I could claim that it's because I was too busy, that would be a lie. The truth is that my heart has been taking a beating and that watching the playoffs has became a cruel endurance test. How often can I sit and watch as the biggest bullies in the league slay the dreams of their more likable competitors? Apparently, about once a night.
The Celtics and the Lakers aren't terrible teams to watch; they are truly great teams and deserve to play each other in the NBA Finals. Kobe has done more for his reputation in the past few weeks than he did in his championship run last year, and that is truly saying something. He's hitting shot after ridiculous shot and the Lake front-court looks completely peerless. And as for the Celtics, they are up to their old tricks: incredible defense, fuck-you attitude, and a balanced scoring attack. We have seen it all before. With the exception of the emergence of Rondo (who I should note, has maybe been the best player in the league for the past month), it's the same-old, same-old. The cliches are true: Defense, toughness, and clutch scoring (we should really just call it "Kobeness") are what get you to the Finals. And that's sad to me. I enjoy watching the NBA right now because I like the crumbling of the old order, I want to see new modes and new players. To see the affirmation of the old cliches, the victory of "traditional" basketball values; well it does nothing for me. It leaves me cold and disheartened.
It started with the fall of the Bobcats, strangely enough. While the Bobcats are traditionalists in their own sense, their brand of arch-basketball conservatism was such a freak show that it delighted me. It was stifling defense combined with a singular, bizarre offensive theory and strategy: get to the rim or nothing. It was singularly bizarre. The involvement of the Bobcats in the playoffs was so odd. It was like if feudalists showed up to the Republican National Convention and spent all their time trying to make the case for the re-implentation of serfdom. Probably the Bobcats were never going to be more than a side-show in the playoffs, but at least it had the advantage of being supremely freaky.
More upsetting was the death of dynamism, athleticism, and raw people-pleasing spectacle. My beloved Nuggets fell, and then the young and brilliant Thunder, and then the Hawks, who I thought had blossomed, but apparently were fatally flawed all along. I loved all of these teams because they were exciting, fresh, and new. But they fell, and so high-flying dunks and flashy highlights sailed into the undying lands in the West, and I wept.
You have likely noticed by now that I am burying the lede. You know it because I know you feel it in your heart too, and I know that it has weighed heavily on all of us. You probably dealt fine with the losses of the four teams I just mentioned. And really, so did I: Did anyone think any of those four were going to do much in the playoffs but provide a pleasant distraction? When they lost, it felt inevitable. Sad, but expected. The moment that really crushed my spirit was when the Cavaliers lost. The exit of LeBron from the playoffs was traumatic.
For almost everyone I talked to, it felt like a broken promise. Destiny deferred. The one true narrative of the NBA gone off the tracks ("LeBron is the Chosen One. Will he surpass Jordan?"). It was confusing and profoundly sad. Collectively, we sighed.
We love LeBron. He is the most exciting player in the NBA. He just is. He's got the insane talent, freak athleticism, and uncanny charisma that no one else can match. The charisma is in his game too. Watching LeBron play, you can't help but be charmed. Kobe doesn't charm. He shocks. He awes. He doesn't charm. LeBron can't help it. The powerful-yet-playful drives to the basket followed by earth-shattering dunks and the light-hearted smiles of encouragement to his teammates after far-too-deft passes are so easy to love. Even if you don't love LeBron, he hypnotizes, and at this particular instant, there's no reason to try to distinguish between hypnosis and love: the point remains the second LeBron left the play-offs, it felt like the lights dimmed.
Of course, LeBron is a singular and particular basketball enjoyment, and I know that and you know that. There is joy in basketball beyond LeBron. and there was opportunity for hope in the Conference Finals. All season, the offense of the Magic had sparkled around the defensive anchor of Dwight Howard, and in the West, Steve Nash led the reincarnated Suns on one of their greatest runs ever. It didn't matter. The forces of basketball conservatism won. The wacky Pythagorean geometry of the Magic attack broke against the steadfast rock of tough Boston defense. The sheer warmth, joy and play of the Sun's schoolyard assault froze over with each icy Kobe jumper. The prospect of basketball revolution diminished to nothing. The Magic would not prove themselves and their system. Seven seconds or less would not be redeemed on basketball's biggest stage. Instead, you get the basketball equivalent of the Oscar-bait costume drama about a troubled family: Lakers vs. Celtics, the most reliably popular formula the NBA has to offer.
It's not a bad formula. People like it for a reason. Rajon Rondo has been playing absolutely inspired basketball and Kobe reached down into himself and found a way to tap into his own essence, somehow distilling himself into an even more potent brand of merciless assassin. The Finals will be a cold-blooded duel with plenty of brilliance on both sides, but considering all the curious, joyful, and ecstatically weird alternatives (Would anything be more fun than Cavaliers vs. Suns?), the idea of Celtics vs. Lakers leaves me feeling sad and underwhelmed: Instead of playful, high flying theater, we're going to get sneering ruthlessness efficiency. It's possible that no one on either team might smile the entire series. Mark Jackson might say that last sentence with glowing approval, but it just makes me feel terrible. I get the appeal of this match-up, I really do, but every time I think of the potential of one of the other possible Finals match-ups, I can't help but feel sad about all the seemingly more promising possibilities that were so cruelly dismissed by the single minded competitiveness of the Celtics and Lakers. We don't get to have any fun. We get killjoy vs. killjoy.
It's the Celtics vs. the Lakers: The All Killjoy Finals. It better be good.
The Celtics and the Lakers aren't terrible teams to watch; they are truly great teams and deserve to play each other in the NBA Finals. Kobe has done more for his reputation in the past few weeks than he did in his championship run last year, and that is truly saying something. He's hitting shot after ridiculous shot and the Lake front-court looks completely peerless. And as for the Celtics, they are up to their old tricks: incredible defense, fuck-you attitude, and a balanced scoring attack. We have seen it all before. With the exception of the emergence of Rondo (who I should note, has maybe been the best player in the league for the past month), it's the same-old, same-old. The cliches are true: Defense, toughness, and clutch scoring (we should really just call it "Kobeness") are what get you to the Finals. And that's sad to me. I enjoy watching the NBA right now because I like the crumbling of the old order, I want to see new modes and new players. To see the affirmation of the old cliches, the victory of "traditional" basketball values; well it does nothing for me. It leaves me cold and disheartened.
It started with the fall of the Bobcats, strangely enough. While the Bobcats are traditionalists in their own sense, their brand of arch-basketball conservatism was such a freak show that it delighted me. It was stifling defense combined with a singular, bizarre offensive theory and strategy: get to the rim or nothing. It was singularly bizarre. The involvement of the Bobcats in the playoffs was so odd. It was like if feudalists showed up to the Republican National Convention and spent all their time trying to make the case for the re-implentation of serfdom. Probably the Bobcats were never going to be more than a side-show in the playoffs, but at least it had the advantage of being supremely freaky.
More upsetting was the death of dynamism, athleticism, and raw people-pleasing spectacle. My beloved Nuggets fell, and then the young and brilliant Thunder, and then the Hawks, who I thought had blossomed, but apparently were fatally flawed all along. I loved all of these teams because they were exciting, fresh, and new. But they fell, and so high-flying dunks and flashy highlights sailed into the undying lands in the West, and I wept.
You have likely noticed by now that I am burying the lede. You know it because I know you feel it in your heart too, and I know that it has weighed heavily on all of us. You probably dealt fine with the losses of the four teams I just mentioned. And really, so did I: Did anyone think any of those four were going to do much in the playoffs but provide a pleasant distraction? When they lost, it felt inevitable. Sad, but expected. The moment that really crushed my spirit was when the Cavaliers lost. The exit of LeBron from the playoffs was traumatic.
For almost everyone I talked to, it felt like a broken promise. Destiny deferred. The one true narrative of the NBA gone off the tracks ("LeBron is the Chosen One. Will he surpass Jordan?"). It was confusing and profoundly sad. Collectively, we sighed.
We love LeBron. He is the most exciting player in the NBA. He just is. He's got the insane talent, freak athleticism, and uncanny charisma that no one else can match. The charisma is in his game too. Watching LeBron play, you can't help but be charmed. Kobe doesn't charm. He shocks. He awes. He doesn't charm. LeBron can't help it. The powerful-yet-playful drives to the basket followed by earth-shattering dunks and the light-hearted smiles of encouragement to his teammates after far-too-deft passes are so easy to love. Even if you don't love LeBron, he hypnotizes, and at this particular instant, there's no reason to try to distinguish between hypnosis and love: the point remains the second LeBron left the play-offs, it felt like the lights dimmed.
Of course, LeBron is a singular and particular basketball enjoyment, and I know that and you know that. There is joy in basketball beyond LeBron. and there was opportunity for hope in the Conference Finals. All season, the offense of the Magic had sparkled around the defensive anchor of Dwight Howard, and in the West, Steve Nash led the reincarnated Suns on one of their greatest runs ever. It didn't matter. The forces of basketball conservatism won. The wacky Pythagorean geometry of the Magic attack broke against the steadfast rock of tough Boston defense. The sheer warmth, joy and play of the Sun's schoolyard assault froze over with each icy Kobe jumper. The prospect of basketball revolution diminished to nothing. The Magic would not prove themselves and their system. Seven seconds or less would not be redeemed on basketball's biggest stage. Instead, you get the basketball equivalent of the Oscar-bait costume drama about a troubled family: Lakers vs. Celtics, the most reliably popular formula the NBA has to offer.
It's not a bad formula. People like it for a reason. Rajon Rondo has been playing absolutely inspired basketball and Kobe reached down into himself and found a way to tap into his own essence, somehow distilling himself into an even more potent brand of merciless assassin. The Finals will be a cold-blooded duel with plenty of brilliance on both sides, but considering all the curious, joyful, and ecstatically weird alternatives (Would anything be more fun than Cavaliers vs. Suns?), the idea of Celtics vs. Lakers leaves me feeling sad and underwhelmed: Instead of playful, high flying theater, we're going to get sneering ruthlessness efficiency. It's possible that no one on either team might smile the entire series. Mark Jackson might say that last sentence with glowing approval, but it just makes me feel terrible. I get the appeal of this match-up, I really do, but every time I think of the potential of one of the other possible Finals match-ups, I can't help but feel sad about all the seemingly more promising possibilities that were so cruelly dismissed by the single minded competitiveness of the Celtics and Lakers. We don't get to have any fun. We get killjoy vs. killjoy.
It's the Celtics vs. the Lakers: The All Killjoy Finals. It better be good.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
My Drunk Girlfriend Watching Basketball III: THE SECRET OF THE BOOZE
SO IT RETURNS: After breaking down two first round match-ups between Chicago and Cleveland and Denver and Utah, my margarita-loving, nickname-giving, basketball-indifferent girlfriend has returned to sip sip sip and explain Game Six of the NBA's Western Conference Finals. It was a good one.
8:58 Time to GET BLOGGING. Phoenix town is making me dizzy; I don't really understand how I didn't notice this last time I watched them, but wow: that is a lot of orange. Orange in the stands. Orange on the sides. Orange on Goggles' bandaid. Orange on Steve Nash's skin. As everyone knows, orange is a color of power. I just made that up, but I think it is true. I predict a night of POWER for the Suns.
9:00 Kellen just reminded me that Goggles [Amar'e Stoudemire] is wearing his namesake goggles because he detached his retina last year. Thanks for making me want to claw out my own eyes forever [Anytime.].
9:03 Speaking of power, Kobe is radiating it. He doesn't need that orange. Those cheekbones could cut a man, or even men. Imagine a whole army felled by the Kobe's cheek-katanas. The Suns' Steve Nash also possesses razor-sharp cheekbones. Unfortunately for Steve Nash, no one will ever get close enough to find this out firsthand. Before we go any further, let me say a word about Steve Nash. Well, first, a word about myself. In my haphazard chronicling of the playoffs, I have discovered something about myself: I am an unfair lady with many unfounded opinions about NBA players. I'm sure that Patches is lovely. I am certain that the fearful bald giant of Cleveland has a mother who loves him very much [Agree to disagree.]. I have no doubt in my mind that the blond man-beast is an honest and diligent gentleman. That said, I am still a little frightened by all of them. Furthermore, I am uniquely unnerved by Steve Nash.
The first time I noticed him was in those dopey "NBA Cares" commercials. I'm always really relieved when one comes on and it's not another one with him in it. As someone who works with children, I'm just going to go ahead and say this even though I can't really justify it on any level: I would not leave a child alone with Steve Nash. Hell, I wouldn't even leave a group of children with Steve Nash. For possibly no reason other than the paranoia that apparently sets in when I drink and turn on TNT, I just have a bad feeling about him. Is he legitimately creepy? Maybe that's why they always use him for the slogan-saying part of these commercials instead of the actual "caring" part. I am sure he is nice and even delightful. All I'm saying is, your middle school friend's creepy dad was nice too [WHAT THE FUCK?]
9:05 Willy Wonka [Craig Sager] works for TNT and is explaining how the human knee works with the help of a big poster he must have snuck past the security guard.
9:09 One of the Lakers just got knocked down and hung around on the floor for a bit making sweat angels.
9:11 I really like the Suns, so no offence, Suns and Suns lovers, but I have to say it: I am convinced that they are the most awkward team in the NBA. Every time one of them loses the ball and the Lakers score, they just kind of walk away fake-casually like maybe no one saw it. We all saw it, y'all. The only exception to this is Steve Nash, who gives the impression of trying too hard: if the others are all middle school guys who try to get by unnoticed, he's the middle school guy who follows around all of the big dudes, bouncing on the balls of his feet and hoping that someone, anyone will ask him to stick around.
9:17 Suns 17 [Lou Amundson] just jumped up in the air and flailed around for a bit, knocking the ball away from a Laker. This was arguably an accident, and now he is repeating it again and again, apparently hoping that the ball will fly in the path of one of his unrestained limbs yet again.
9:19 It's not working, 17.
9:23 Nor is it a sound technique for making shots.
9:25 Apparently the Suns' Baby Dragon [...Goran Dragic] and the Lakers' Slovenian [Sasha Vujacic: THE MACHINE] have a big rivalry. This is so hard to believe. Baby Dragon is like a little duckling, but clumsier. Somehow he manages to keep scoring even as he skittishly darts around and falls to the ground after nearly every shot.
9:30 I think the Suns formed by magic when that fortune telling machine from Big just made a ragtag squad of 12 year-olds like seven feet tall. This explains pretty much everything, except why anyone would ever let a bunch of 12 year-olds hang out with Steve Nash. This makes Steve Nash's habits of harassing his teammates with his balls that much more disturbing.
9:32 The boringest famous people love this game! You know who Cindy McCain kind of looks like? Kobe Bryant. Kellen doesn't see it, but think about it. Think.
9:37 New Suns coaching strategy: offer them a pizza party. I think that will work. That always works with 12 year olds. Pizza party or no, Channing Frye just scored [THAT'S MY BOY!]. To answer the question I know he was asking in the moment just after: Yes, we all noticed. Yes, we are proud. You are sweet and good and we are very glad when you do especially well.
9:44 A Sun just let a ball Steve Nash threw fly right past him and off the court. Afterward he turned around a bit, like he was looking around for someone to blame. "Yeah, Steve, that was fucked up. Yeah, someone just let that get right past him... no idea where he went. Yeah." Stop it. WE ALL SAW YOU.
10:12 I think Steve Nash has officially taken over this team. Everyone else is trying to act like they came up with this idea. "Yeah, um, OK, Steve. Like we said, you get to score now. Yeah."
10:21 I wonder if the Suns ever stay up playing Halo and drinking Mountain Dew. Number 17 throws the controller down in frustration when he loses, and says the dirtiest curse word he knows. When Channing Frye wins, he smiles shyly. Sometimes his mom comes down the basement stairs with a tray of Bagel Bites for them all to share. Steve Nash came over a few times, but he was a little too creepy, and Mrs. Frye hinted that he probably shouldn't come around anymore.
10:26 Suns coach looks like he was about to cry. Maybe he's been too easy on these kids. Handing out airheads and jawbreakers for free throws during practice may have been a good short-term strategy, but it's not working now.
10:27 Kellen leaves to go get a beer,and when he comes back, he appears to be puzzled by the score.
I assume this silence is only appreciation for my masterful commentary.
10:43 Baby Dragon just got slain! Lakers' Slovenian just elbowed him in his sweet face and he slowly fell backward, drifting like a fallen angel. Doves are crying.
10:47 Baby Dragon arises, better than before. He scores twice, each time looking absolutely stunned at the power his fall has unleashed deep within his timid soul. Baby Dragon is a baby no more.
10:50 They keep replaying his encounter with the other dude's elbow. It looks like Baby Dragon was just in the middle of a sweet warble when he was brutally knocked back. "Hey, my friends, would you have some cookies my mother ba-- UGHHHHH." He never saw it coming. If he hadn't just bloomed into full dragonhood, this would be kind of humiliating.
10:57 The Dragon formerly known as Baby Dragon makes a heroic shot... and misses. His wings are not yet unfurled. One day you will fly away, young one. For now, Goggles is here to score some points, just to make you forget. During the next time out, you talk. He is glad his retinas did not totally fall out, he says. Seeing you grow up is so amazing. I know you are a big dragon now, but you will always be Baby Dragon in his heart, he will tell you as he engulfs you in a manly, nurturing hug. In my heart too, my friend.
11:03 Down five with 4:45 to go, and Steve Nash is not in. I imagine he is off doing Tai Chi or some shit.
11:04 Nash in. "Just had to balance my aura, guys." Baby Dragon flutters his bent wings in a silent show of gladness.
11:07 Steve Nash: "I don't think Goggles will know that we are glad he just made those free throws unless I come up to the line and slap his ass." Good call, though I hope my ass is never within Steve Nash's slapping range. Meanwhile, Baby Dragon is crying the tears of the innocent.
11:13 I've refrained from mentioning this, but Kobe Bryant is the terrifying snake of my every nightmare [That is a fact.].
11:15 Kobe thinks he is a soaring eagle. He is wrong. Kobe, you may be flying now (OK, and in every other game), but dragons fly forever.
11:19 It's official. No pizza party for the Suns tonight. Steve Nash might offer to buy you guys pizza at his house, but your moms might not like that.
11:25 That's it. The power of orange was not power enough to propel the Suns into the finals. Dragons may fly forever, but this Baby Dragon's post-season is over. I can only speak for myself, and possibly for Goggles, but I'm looking forward to following his mystical flight into the next season and beyond. Don't worry, little one; all dragons have to start somewhere.
That was beautiful. Did you think it was beautiful? Leave Elizabeth a comment with your feelings about the best Slovenian rivalries and general thoughts on this incisive analysis.
8:58 Time to GET BLOGGING. Phoenix town is making me dizzy; I don't really understand how I didn't notice this last time I watched them, but wow: that is a lot of orange. Orange in the stands. Orange on the sides. Orange on Goggles' bandaid. Orange on Steve Nash's skin. As everyone knows, orange is a color of power. I just made that up, but I think it is true. I predict a night of POWER for the Suns.
9:00 Kellen just reminded me that Goggles [Amar'e Stoudemire] is wearing his namesake goggles because he detached his retina last year. Thanks for making me want to claw out my own eyes forever [Anytime.].
9:03 Speaking of power, Kobe is radiating it. He doesn't need that orange. Those cheekbones could cut a man, or even men. Imagine a whole army felled by the Kobe's cheek-katanas. The Suns' Steve Nash also possesses razor-sharp cheekbones. Unfortunately for Steve Nash, no one will ever get close enough to find this out firsthand. Before we go any further, let me say a word about Steve Nash. Well, first, a word about myself. In my haphazard chronicling of the playoffs, I have discovered something about myself: I am an unfair lady with many unfounded opinions about NBA players. I'm sure that Patches is lovely. I am certain that the fearful bald giant of Cleveland has a mother who loves him very much [Agree to disagree.]. I have no doubt in my mind that the blond man-beast is an honest and diligent gentleman. That said, I am still a little frightened by all of them. Furthermore, I am uniquely unnerved by Steve Nash.
The first time I noticed him was in those dopey "NBA Cares" commercials. I'm always really relieved when one comes on and it's not another one with him in it. As someone who works with children, I'm just going to go ahead and say this even though I can't really justify it on any level: I would not leave a child alone with Steve Nash. Hell, I wouldn't even leave a group of children with Steve Nash. For possibly no reason other than the paranoia that apparently sets in when I drink and turn on TNT, I just have a bad feeling about him. Is he legitimately creepy? Maybe that's why they always use him for the slogan-saying part of these commercials instead of the actual "caring" part. I am sure he is nice and even delightful. All I'm saying is, your middle school friend's creepy dad was nice too [WHAT THE FUCK?]
9:05 Willy Wonka [Craig Sager] works for TNT and is explaining how the human knee works with the help of a big poster he must have snuck past the security guard.
9:09 One of the Lakers just got knocked down and hung around on the floor for a bit making sweat angels.
9:11 I really like the Suns, so no offence, Suns and Suns lovers, but I have to say it: I am convinced that they are the most awkward team in the NBA. Every time one of them loses the ball and the Lakers score, they just kind of walk away fake-casually like maybe no one saw it. We all saw it, y'all. The only exception to this is Steve Nash, who gives the impression of trying too hard: if the others are all middle school guys who try to get by unnoticed, he's the middle school guy who follows around all of the big dudes, bouncing on the balls of his feet and hoping that someone, anyone will ask him to stick around.
9:17 Suns 17 [Lou Amundson] just jumped up in the air and flailed around for a bit, knocking the ball away from a Laker. This was arguably an accident, and now he is repeating it again and again, apparently hoping that the ball will fly in the path of one of his unrestained limbs yet again.
9:19 It's not working, 17.
9:23 Nor is it a sound technique for making shots.
9:25 Apparently the Suns' Baby Dragon [...Goran Dragic] and the Lakers' Slovenian [Sasha Vujacic: THE MACHINE] have a big rivalry. This is so hard to believe. Baby Dragon is like a little duckling, but clumsier. Somehow he manages to keep scoring even as he skittishly darts around and falls to the ground after nearly every shot.
9:30 I think the Suns formed by magic when that fortune telling machine from Big just made a ragtag squad of 12 year-olds like seven feet tall. This explains pretty much everything, except why anyone would ever let a bunch of 12 year-olds hang out with Steve Nash. This makes Steve Nash's habits of harassing his teammates with his balls that much more disturbing.
9:32 The boringest famous people love this game! You know who Cindy McCain kind of looks like? Kobe Bryant. Kellen doesn't see it, but think about it. Think.
9:37 New Suns coaching strategy: offer them a pizza party. I think that will work. That always works with 12 year olds. Pizza party or no, Channing Frye just scored [THAT'S MY BOY!]. To answer the question I know he was asking in the moment just after: Yes, we all noticed. Yes, we are proud. You are sweet and good and we are very glad when you do especially well.
9:44 A Sun just let a ball Steve Nash threw fly right past him and off the court. Afterward he turned around a bit, like he was looking around for someone to blame. "Yeah, Steve, that was fucked up. Yeah, someone just let that get right past him... no idea where he went. Yeah." Stop it. WE ALL SAW YOU.
10:12 I think Steve Nash has officially taken over this team. Everyone else is trying to act like they came up with this idea. "Yeah, um, OK, Steve. Like we said, you get to score now. Yeah."
10:21 I wonder if the Suns ever stay up playing Halo and drinking Mountain Dew. Number 17 throws the controller down in frustration when he loses, and says the dirtiest curse word he knows. When Channing Frye wins, he smiles shyly. Sometimes his mom comes down the basement stairs with a tray of Bagel Bites for them all to share. Steve Nash came over a few times, but he was a little too creepy, and Mrs. Frye hinted that he probably shouldn't come around anymore.
10:26 Suns coach looks like he was about to cry. Maybe he's been too easy on these kids. Handing out airheads and jawbreakers for free throws during practice may have been a good short-term strategy, but it's not working now.
10:27 Kellen leaves to go get a beer,and when he comes back, he appears to be puzzled by the score.
K: Hey, what happened? Lakers are up by 14 now.
E: Yeah, they scored some.
K: ...
E: I'm just saying what I saw.
I assume this silence is only appreciation for my masterful commentary.
10:43 Baby Dragon just got slain! Lakers' Slovenian just elbowed him in his sweet face and he slowly fell backward, drifting like a fallen angel. Doves are crying.
10:47 Baby Dragon arises, better than before. He scores twice, each time looking absolutely stunned at the power his fall has unleashed deep within his timid soul. Baby Dragon is a baby no more.
10:50 They keep replaying his encounter with the other dude's elbow. It looks like Baby Dragon was just in the middle of a sweet warble when he was brutally knocked back. "Hey, my friends, would you have some cookies my mother ba-- UGHHHHH." He never saw it coming. If he hadn't just bloomed into full dragonhood, this would be kind of humiliating.
10:57 The Dragon formerly known as Baby Dragon makes a heroic shot... and misses. His wings are not yet unfurled. One day you will fly away, young one. For now, Goggles is here to score some points, just to make you forget. During the next time out, you talk. He is glad his retinas did not totally fall out, he says. Seeing you grow up is so amazing. I know you are a big dragon now, but you will always be Baby Dragon in his heart, he will tell you as he engulfs you in a manly, nurturing hug. In my heart too, my friend.
11:03 Down five with 4:45 to go, and Steve Nash is not in. I imagine he is off doing Tai Chi or some shit.
11:04 Nash in. "Just had to balance my aura, guys." Baby Dragon flutters his bent wings in a silent show of gladness.
11:07 Steve Nash: "I don't think Goggles will know that we are glad he just made those free throws unless I come up to the line and slap his ass." Good call, though I hope my ass is never within Steve Nash's slapping range. Meanwhile, Baby Dragon is crying the tears of the innocent.
11:13 I've refrained from mentioning this, but Kobe Bryant is the terrifying snake of my every nightmare [That is a fact.].
11:15 Kobe thinks he is a soaring eagle. He is wrong. Kobe, you may be flying now (OK, and in every other game), but dragons fly forever.
11:19 It's official. No pizza party for the Suns tonight. Steve Nash might offer to buy you guys pizza at his house, but your moms might not like that.
11:25 That's it. The power of orange was not power enough to propel the Suns into the finals. Dragons may fly forever, but this Baby Dragon's post-season is over. I can only speak for myself, and possibly for Goggles, but I'm looking forward to following his mystical flight into the next season and beyond. Don't worry, little one; all dragons have to start somewhere.
That was beautiful. Did you think it was beautiful? Leave Elizabeth a comment with your feelings about the best Slovenian rivalries and general thoughts on this incisive analysis.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Lakers Busting Mack Even In Your Dreams
Probably some more UNC stuff to come, but for now, let's switch back to NBA mode. Which, for this blog, means I share with you the creepy basketball dreams my buddy Thomas has. I thought I was sufficiently disturbed by the thing about Tyler Hansbrough, Troy Murphy and venereal disease, but Thomas gives Freud and Love in the Time of Lebron readers some more delightful psychosexual weirdness to chew on.
SPAKE THOMAS:
Yikes. Some hack bloggers would try to tie this in to Hot Tub Time Machine. But a hack-ier and lazier blogger would simply reference the possibility without finding even a slightly clever way to work that in.
Send your dreams about sexual embarrassment and the Los Angeles Lakers or any other sort of basketball dreams to loveinthetimeoflebron@gmail.com.
SPAKE THOMAS:
So, a girlfriend and I (it was unclear who it was. . .no, really!) broke into the Lakers' locker room, and started rampantly humping in the rehab-therapy part of the facility, with the hot-tub and big-ass yoga ball playing important roles. It was fun, until I look up and Pau Gasol and Derek Fisher are standing there in their towels looking at us, then shrug, de-robe, and get into the hot-tub. Needless to say, looking at a naked Pau was enough for me to lose my mojo. Then she looked back at me (yeah that's right!) and asked, "What happened? Geez!" before my snooze alarm rang, thankfully.
Yikes. Some hack bloggers would try to tie this in to Hot Tub Time Machine. But a hack-ier and lazier blogger would simply reference the possibility without finding even a slightly clever way to work that in.
Send your dreams about sexual embarrassment and the Los Angeles Lakers or any other sort of basketball dreams to loveinthetimeoflebron@gmail.com.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
2009-10 Team Previews: Los Angeles Lakers
After an informal hiatus, Love in the Time Of Lebron is back and totally psyched, you guys, about basketball. The pre-season started on Friday and all the teams are getting warmed up for whats sure to be an exciting season. In the same way, this blog is going to get warme dup with the hoariest of pre-season blog cliches: TEAM PREVIEWS!
Love in the Time of Lebron will be breaking down for you all thirty teams in the League, and telling you whether you should love them or hate them and why. We have opinions so you don't have to.
Classification
Team That I Hate and Love
What I Like
"The Lakers are mulling starting a big lineup of Bryant, Artest, Pau Gasol, Andrew Bynum and Odom, who regularly came off the bench last season."
That's fucked up in the best possible way. I love it when teams take a risk with a bizarre line-up that will, at the least, make the other team sweat trying to think of a counter. In some ways that was the entire rationale behind the Orlando Magic last season. But, lets contemplate this highly speculative line-up: It is, offensively and defensively as nasty as it gets. The idea of Kobe Bryant guarding point guards alone is one that should make a lot of teams lose a lot of sleep. The odds of the Lakers going to this line-up regularly is slim because of their commitment to sticking with, you know, the strategies that have helped them win so much. Still, the idea of this line up is a big draw to me.
Other reasons to watch and like the Lakers: Lamar Odom is a delightful human being and a freakish basketball player who can change games by doing a million little things at once. Mercurial forward Ron Artest is a chippy badass who makes any game he is in suddenly potentially explosive. Adam Morrison is skeezy in a legendary way. Kobe Bryant is a basketball savant whose dedication to his craft is mesmerizing and impossible not to watch.
What I Don't Like
Kobe Bryant is a ruthless potential sociopath. Kobe, what is best in life? "To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women." - Kobe Bryant. That is why you should be scared if your friend tells you that Kobe is their favorite player.
This team is a soulless juggernaut, and the flashes of fire that seem most interesting (notably, mercurial forward Ron Artest) are the things Laker's fans fear most. Pau Gasol is undeniably effective, but I don't think I've ever seen a more empty eyed look from a power forward outside of Tim Duncan. The slack-jawed glazed look couple with the most epic neckbeard in the NBA makes for an undeniably talented face that I don't think even Marc can love. Sasha Vujacic is an easy target, but there's a reason for that; anyone who gives them self the nickname "The Machine" is totally worthy of some scorn. Also, Luke Walton is simply the worst.
Mythology
Lots of people have discussed the Lamar Odom's love of candy. He's been dubbed by more than one person, "The Candyman." But are we overlooking something obvious?
I'm not making any accusations, but I am urging some careful consideration. Is it possible that the legendary supernatural killer is hiding in the spotlight. Could it be that the Candyman is the Candyman? Is Lamar Odom's aww-shucks attitude and cheerful demeanor a mere act? More importantly: WHO WAS IT WHO SUMMONED HIM?
Prophecy
In January, the Lakers will set a record for greatest use of on-court demonic powers when, simultaneously, Lamar Odom reveals himself as the Candyman, an exorcism (performed by an unknown figure hidden deep within the bowels of the Staples Center) sends a small horde of cacodemons pouring out of Ron Artest's mouth to ravage the specators, and Kobe Bryant kneels down at half-court and completes the final stage of his diabolic pact causing him to sprout horns and leathery wings in hopes of countering Lebron's recent angelic transformation. Also, Walton and Vujacic are revealed as some kind of demons of incompetence and Adam Morrison is revealed as the newest incarnation of the Laker's Skeeze Demon legacy (most famous incarnation: Kurt Rambis).
Relevant Media
Verdict
Watch them when they play because they are terribly good and wield unholy powers. Hate and fear them for the same reasons. Also, because the triangle offense is boring and Pau Gasol is hard to look at.
Love in the Time of Lebron will be breaking down for you all thirty teams in the League, and telling you whether you should love them or hate them and why. We have opinions so you don't have to.
Classification
Team That I Hate and Love
What I Like
"The Lakers are mulling starting a big lineup of Bryant, Artest, Pau Gasol, Andrew Bynum and Odom, who regularly came off the bench last season."
That's fucked up in the best possible way. I love it when teams take a risk with a bizarre line-up that will, at the least, make the other team sweat trying to think of a counter. In some ways that was the entire rationale behind the Orlando Magic last season. But, lets contemplate this highly speculative line-up: It is, offensively and defensively as nasty as it gets. The idea of Kobe Bryant guarding point guards alone is one that should make a lot of teams lose a lot of sleep. The odds of the Lakers going to this line-up regularly is slim because of their commitment to sticking with, you know, the strategies that have helped them win so much. Still, the idea of this line up is a big draw to me.
Other reasons to watch and like the Lakers: Lamar Odom is a delightful human being and a freakish basketball player who can change games by doing a million little things at once. Mercurial forward Ron Artest is a chippy badass who makes any game he is in suddenly potentially explosive. Adam Morrison is skeezy in a legendary way. Kobe Bryant is a basketball savant whose dedication to his craft is mesmerizing and impossible not to watch.
What I Don't Like
Kobe Bryant is a ruthless potential sociopath. Kobe, what is best in life? "To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of their women." - Kobe Bryant. That is why you should be scared if your friend tells you that Kobe is their favorite player.
This team is a soulless juggernaut, and the flashes of fire that seem most interesting (notably, mercurial forward Ron Artest) are the things Laker's fans fear most. Pau Gasol is undeniably effective, but I don't think I've ever seen a more empty eyed look from a power forward outside of Tim Duncan. The slack-jawed glazed look couple with the most epic neckbeard in the NBA makes for an undeniably talented face that I don't think even Marc can love. Sasha Vujacic is an easy target, but there's a reason for that; anyone who gives them self the nickname "The Machine" is totally worthy of some scorn. Also, Luke Walton is simply the worst.
Mythology
Lots of people have discussed the Lamar Odom's love of candy. He's been dubbed by more than one person, "The Candyman." But are we overlooking something obvious?
I'm not making any accusations, but I am urging some careful consideration. Is it possible that the legendary supernatural killer is hiding in the spotlight. Could it be that the Candyman is the Candyman? Is Lamar Odom's aww-shucks attitude and cheerful demeanor a mere act? More importantly: WHO WAS IT WHO SUMMONED HIM?
Prophecy
In January, the Lakers will set a record for greatest use of on-court demonic powers when, simultaneously, Lamar Odom reveals himself as the Candyman, an exorcism (performed by an unknown figure hidden deep within the bowels of the Staples Center) sends a small horde of cacodemons pouring out of Ron Artest's mouth to ravage the specators, and Kobe Bryant kneels down at half-court and completes the final stage of his diabolic pact causing him to sprout horns and leathery wings in hopes of countering Lebron's recent angelic transformation. Also, Walton and Vujacic are revealed as some kind of demons of incompetence and Adam Morrison is revealed as the newest incarnation of the Laker's Skeeze Demon legacy (most famous incarnation: Kurt Rambis).
Relevant Media
Verdict
Watch them when they play because they are terribly good and wield unholy powers. Hate and fear them for the same reasons. Also, because the triangle offense is boring and Pau Gasol is hard to look at.
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