Posts Tagged ‘Dirk Nowitzki’


Smorgasblog: NHL > NBA? M-Bone Dead, Thor Yoked, and the Red Sox Alive

May 18, 2011

Sorry about the six day break in bloggage. We all know my weekends are a mission in market research for new topics. Combine that with May weather that would make a Twilight tween brace for Edward or Jacob to show up at their door, and you get no blogs. Seriously, it’s not even raining, but everything is just damp. Like a literal wet towel draped upon my life, which is already stuck somewhere between neutral in a ditch and stagnant in a dive bar. Thankfully, I’ve been ripping off naps like it’s my job and watching sports on the reg, which means you get some deep thoughts, and hot chicks in today’s smorgasblog. Le’go.

Rosie Huntington-Whiteley earned a feature on the Revolver a few months back, then Maxim named her #1 on its Hot 100 a couple weeks back. Coincidence? I think not.


I have to start off with this question because Tuesday’s action in both sports made me question the entertainment value of each game. I officially invested in the Bruins playoff run this year because they broke enough of my heart during last year’s collapse to make me care. I also still watch every NBA playoff game with my own Celtics eliminated because I genuinely enjoy the sport. Last night, for the first time, I concluded the hockey game won out, at least on this night. Yes, on a night where Dirk Nowitzki shot as efficiently as a hybrid running on vegetable oil, scoring 48 points on 15 shot attempts, the Bruins-Lightning game legitimately had 20 different “are you shitting me?!” moments. Kind of like when you see the timeline of women Leonardo DiCaprio has plowed through over the years.

Call me crazy, but to give this up...

For whatever reason, David Stern decided this would be the year of the free throw in the NBA playoffs. If you are a star player in the league, and you go to the basket, the referees will bail you out. No matter how badly you travel (Lebron), flail wildly (Westbrook), spin and shoot over your head (Rose), legitimately draw zero contact (Wade) or take a small pat on the ass (Dirk, Durant), you will get to the line. The Mavs-Thunder game had 79 free throw attempts last night. Including technicals, the whistle blew over 40 times to stop the game and let a guy take a free shot at the basket. That’s about as entertaining as watching drying paint on growing grass in a sandbox.

Meanwhile, Bruins and Lightning players

... you've gotta do better than this. Not crazy? Yeah, I didn't think so either.

were flying all over the ice, to the point that small enough mistakes kept happening to open up amazing scoring chances, en route to a 6-5 Bruins win. Along the way, a Bruins rookie named Tyler Seguin scored on a breakaway dangle and a snipe over the glove-side, while assisting on two other goals… all in the same period. The Bruins trailed 2-1, then led 6-3, before the Lightning trailed 6-5 and made desperate attempts on net for four solid minutes while Tim Thomas hardly stood on his head, but beat back all shots from any angle with every inch of his equipment. When the final horn blew, the Bruins held on and tied the series at 1 game a piece. Which is good news, because we might just get to watch five more games like this one.


A friend of mine and I share a very serious sentiment that outsiders may misconstrue as a joke. The worst day of his year, thus far, is the time we didn’t get to go ice skating at the Frog Pond in Boston on New Year’s Day.  Because the whole group bailed, and two hetero guys can’t just go galivanting around like it’s the GOTDAMN ice-capades out there, the moment passed us by. Since then, I can not remember one time I have been legitimately upset, or sad. Just high on life as a motheruffer. Going on party buses, watching sports, hitting up sorority formals and Dougie’ing my ass off along the way. Then, like Thor’s hammer, news hit of M-Bone’s untimely death and all that awesomeness came to a halt.

Your first thought when you saw the headline was probably, “Wait, who is M-Bone?!” Then you read the first line of the news story and got that same sinking feeling: Rapper M-Bone, whose group, Cali Swag District, scored a hit this year with “Teach Me How to Dougie” is dead after gunshot wounds to the head during a drive-by shooting. Suddenly, you came to remember that old saying: “life is like an hour glass placed on a table, each with its own unique sands.” Alright, maybe I made up that quote because I remember one like it using the hour glass analogy, but still. M-Bone cannot be thanked enough for providing us the one great jewel he had in him. While many of us will pass through this life impacting nobody, pushing paper at a 9-5, reading my blog and hoping to be as amazing as either myself, or the people I write about, M-Bone was out there living it. Homie was just parked on a Monday night outside a liquor sto’ trying to get his sip on when he got two-pieced to the dome. Next time you’re out and hear the Dougie, pour one out for M-Bone. Remember, your year wouldn’t have been the same if M-Bone never taught you how to dougie.

Inspiration for us all.

Thor’s All Yoked Up and Norse-Godly

If I read one more article about a movie star who never lifted a weight before they started training for their role as (INSERT SUPERHERO) I am just going to snap. That shit just doesn’t work for the common man, unless you’re like me and you’ve been on a strict two-a-day Perfect Pushup plan for years now. This cocky Aussie, Chris Hemsworth (first appeared in Star Trek as Kirk’s dad who got blown up), decided to roll up to the set of Thor so jacked up he didn’t even fit in the costume, then says he never lifted in his life. Really, bro? You never lifted a weight in your life, then you were magically able to look like a cross between Hulk Hogan, Mark McGwire and Fabio? After seeing the movie, my friend who lifts regularly and holds a record in the Boston University workout room said, “After Thor, I’m not lifting another weight until I get some steroids.” Way to ruin it for the rest of us short, white, unathletic dudes, Hemsworth. You’re lucky I get a Natalie Portman pictorial segway out of your vanity.

Absolutely destroying it in the nerdy-scientist-who-wears-plaid-but-gets-a-god-to-love-her role.


I had to google this whole mess of a series, because I know I drank a lot during it, but did the Yankees honestly start Bartolo Colon and Freddy Garcia?! Like, your payroll is almost a quarter billion dollars, and after CC Sabathia, you trot Colon, Garcia, AJ Burnett and Ivan Nova out there?! This shit ain’t Little League. You don’t get to mow down scrappy lefty slap hitters like myself. This series was just what the doctor ordered to turn the season around, let the Red Sox rip off like a 14-2 run and cruise to the division title like I predicted. Meanwhile, the Sox are only getting better now that Lackey and Dice K have been forced to fake elbow inflammation for the good of the team. Once Pedroia starts his annual laser show and Crawford realizes Boston is not a racist town, the only real question is how many games we win after starting the year 2-11.

Kelly Brook from Piranha 3D... since you didn't see the movie, I'll show her here.

Stay tuned…


Deep Thoughts on the NBA Playoffs Rd. 1 (Pt. 2)

April 26, 2011

Phew, I thought Part Deux would never get here. Not sure this NBA blog is more anticipated than Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part Two (HP7b) since only like a few hundred people have read my site since yesterday. I think a couple more people read Harry Potter, but I’m holding out hope that I can one day create a mythical world that renders me a billionaire. Until then, you should read about the 10 neat things happening out in the Western Conference playoffs so far. Without further ado… I give you…

Somewhere, Eva Longoria must be smiling after her ex' first four games.

Tony Parker’s Curse:

Don't even get me started on this backstabbing, Benedict Arnold whore. What's worse than your wife cheating on you? Cheating on you with a little French prick.

Simple concept: you don’t cheat on Eva Longoria. All of a sudden, crazy shit starts happening like Tony Allen becomes a star, Mike Conley turns into the left-handed Steve Nash, Zach Randolph is Moses Malone, Marc Gasol plays like George Mikan and you’re the star point guard of a number 1 seed about to get bounced by the 8 seed.  Just goes to show you can never trust the French. One day, this slimy bastard wakes up, spreads some jelly on a hot loaf of brioche and decides, “I want to les bang zie white lady with zie cute little kidz who iz married to my les teammate, Brent Barry.” You get what you ask for man. Karma’s a bitch, especially when it comes to the French. I mean, those poor little fairies actually helped us win the Revolutionary War, then over the next 200 years we allied with England and made the French lick our collective baguettes while we saved them from speaking German.

Memphis Grizzlies’ Collective Balls: Eight guys are combining to score 90 points a game for Memphis in the playoffs. Three others chip in six points a night and all 11 of them sprint everywhere all over the court for every minute they are on it defensively. Another classic example of what happens when your supposed “best” player (Rudy Gay in this instance), gets hurt or leaves the team, in the NBA and it becomes just that: a team. Denver did it too, but Memphis is perfecting it against San Antonio right now. In their 104-86 throttling of the Spurs to take a 3-1 advantage Monday night, Memphis had nine guys score eight points or more, including the ridiculous line Darrell Arthur had off the bench: 17 mins, 14 pts, 7-10 shooting, +13. The play that best exemplified the Grizzlies advantage over the older Spurs came midway through the fourth quarter. Arthur recovered from the defensive free throw line to block a layup attempt, landed out of bounds, then dead sprinted 90 feet to catch an alley oop from OJ Mayo in transition, five seconds later. The emphatic finish essentially drove a stake through the Spurs in this series, and more likely, their dynasty of the past decade (until they rally to win the next three in one of the best comebacks ever).

All that serious basketball analysis made me thirsty. You can look at her while I go grab a drink…

You didn't think Adriana would only be in yesterday's ode to NBA girlfriends did you?

Chris Paul’s Got Great Skills: Napoleon Dynamite knew it. Chicks only like guys with great skills. Bowhunting skills, nunchuk skills, computer hacking skills. Chris Paul’s got ballhandling, shooting, defensive and every other necessary skill on a basketball court. Homie is literally toying with the Lakers in this series and he’s doing it with four backups who masquerade as starters on the Hornets. On any given possession, he dribbles in three circles, head fakes three different jumpers, then either buries one, or finds an open man who will. Paul has somehow transformed a group of certified scrubs into a cohesive unit of giant slayers who look poised to take the Lakers to seven games, if not shock the world and win the series. Personally, I’d love nothing more than to see Kobe to lose this series on a buzzer-beating 3 by his positional counterpart, and fellow Italian citizen, Marco Bellinelli.

Kobe’s Lowtop Mambas:

Hey uhh, Nike, you might want to work on these “basketball” shoes. How many times is this guy going to roll his ankle like a double-jointed Cirque de Soleil performer before we realize this little fashion statement isn’t working? I blame Kobe for being a pompous ass, obviously, but it would be amazing if the most recent injury hobbled the Black Mamba enough to trip up the Lakers in this series.


Lakers Laughingstock: I just scrolled through the Hornets roster and I’m positive there were a couple typos. For one, DJ Mbenga is haunting his ex-Lakers this series haha. Sorry, couldn’t even get through that sentence without virtually giggling. For two, Patrick Ewing Jr. is on the Hornets active roster. But more importantly, the Lakers are playing terribly. Last game, when Kobe went scoreless in the first half, finished with 17 points on 18 shots and generally sucked, he was a “facilitator.” He also chipped in six death glares to teammates (Pau Gasol led with four, matching his rebounds in 36 minutes of play) with another nine glares at officials. If the Lakers don’t win the next two games, I’ll be stunned. If they lose this series, Chris Paul should have to average 40-10-20, because he is all they have to worry about.

Mavs-Blazers Series: I’d like to write more about this series, but it has been banished to the NBA_TV second string broadcasts, and neither team really has done much to inspire me. Dallas should win the series, then lose to the Lakers, but who knows. I’d much rather just make up a conversation Dirk and DeShawn Stevenson had in the locker room recently:

It's all about the Lincoln's baby.

Dirk: (between bites of Knockwurst) So DeShawn, did it hurt when you tattooed Abe Lincoln’s face on your Adam’s apple?

Deshawn: Nah, dawg, ain’t nothin but a tickle, my brotha from anotha Germanic motha.

Dirk: Interesting. Since the whole internment camp thing us Germans kind of gave up on the tattoos.

Deshawn: The fc*k is an internment camp? That like training camp?

Dirk: You know, like Hitler… ahh never mind (angrily throws out remainder of Knockwurst)!!!

Blazers Bitching: Portland players are upset that Brian Cardinal laid out Patty Mills on a screen with the clock winding down and the game in hand. You know what I say? Don’t play this bush league “press and play D for the whole 48 minutes until the final buzzer blows,” Portland. This is the NBA. Everyone knows when the game is out of reach, you give up under a minute. Scrubs come off the bench and jack up threes or maybe catch a banger. Patty Mills should be embarrassed that he’s ball-hawking for a steal, trying to embarrass a fellow tiny ass point guard in JJ Barea. You want to do that sort of crap? Fine, here’s Brian Cardinal’s brickshithouse frame knocking your ass over. There you go Patty, let whoever the hell is even on Portland nowadays peel you up out of the floorboards.

I’m all fired up now, time for a dime piece.

Elsa Benitez, former SI cover model, and wife of... yep, you guessed it... RONY SEIKALY! They aren't together anymore, because Elsa realized he had no low post game. Badump bump!

Nuggets Tattoos: Because you literally cannot notice anything else during a Nuggets game. Every time up and down the court, there’s a close-up shot of one of these psychopaths. So, I’m going to highlight my two most impressive tattoos, and let a picture of a tat be worth a thousand words. Or just one silent jaw drop. (Honorable mention to Kenyon Martin who was forced to cover up the lips tattoo of his now-ex rapper girlfriend Trina, otherwise, he would have made my cut).

Chris "Birdman" Anderson: "Free Bird" Neck Tat, amongst other things.

JR Smith "Swish" and "YM" young money tattoo. How excited was George Karl when he found out JR became a young money athlete, by the way?

Scotty Brooks is Liam Neeson: While I’m not sure this has any impact on the series, if I’m the Nuggets, I’m definitely concerned when I have to beat not only Qui Gon Jin, but Kevin Durant and Russell Westbrook, too. Seriously, check out the comparison between the two.

You’re confused aren’t you? I know, it’s like, did the guy on the left teach Obi Wan or Serge Ibaka his craft? Is the guy on the right giving speeches to Kevin Durant in the huddle or tracking down Albanian human traffickers? Either way, Brooks has Oklahoma City poised and ready to make a deep playoff run. They are even getting the bonus of not having to face the Spurs in the next round (most likely), who they do not match up well with. Expect the Thunder to roll past Memphis, as they are both young energetic teams, only Memphis is far overmatched in talent. Unlike this chick…

That's not Tara Reid... it's Devin Harris' Playboy girlfriend Meghan Allen, and her underboobs. The NBA: I LOVE THIS GAME!

So, for those who counted yesterday, or today, I only did nine stories for each Conference. I didn’t plan it, just somewhere along the line I thought “eh, nobody will notice” and “I don’t write too well as it is, especially if I’ve got nothing to write about.” If you were really looking for two more thoughts from me, here they are:

1- Oklahoma City is the best home-court in the NBA.

2- Miami is the worst home-court in the NBA.

Stay tuned…