Me?
Well a sinister mixture of Gods Wrath and the Windows Boot process, has left me relatively computerless for much of the past week, a circumstance that basically mushed potential blogging plans in the face. Thanks to the computer genius of my boy Kevin tho, I’m back online (oh my beloved rapidshare) and ready to share a few random thoughts.
I watched the series ending game 6 of the N.B.A Finals the other night. When I say watched…I mean watched, the whole way thru. Every wack commercial, every sappy human interest story involving Man on trophy love, the whole thing, no DVR or nuttin.
No I don’t want a cookie.
I would like for you to know as a normally beyond avid NBA for most of my life, surprisingly Tuesdays season ender was the first game I watched in its complete form.
No I don’t despise Masta Stern that much to shun the formally fantastic game, if anything it’s the horrible presentation aesthetic while being broadcast on ESPN/ABC and my informal boycott anything Stuart Scott related. Rationale was set aside for game 6 however, due to the circumstances involved. Would Kobe become Jordanesque and complete the first necessary step to completing the previously imposable, or would Boston, a city which the nicest compliment I can bestow upon it is that its not Philadelphia, garner another championship?
Well we know what happened.
Then the beauty of sports ensued.
While Paul Pierce’s blatant plagiarism of football culture
without the expressed written consent of the N.F.L was nice, the true poignant entertainment moment broadcast for Americas consumption came via Kevin Garnett.
You could see, better yet hear it coming towards the end of the mammoth blowout which undoubtedly spurred sporadic drunken anger related violence in the Los Angeles area. ABC, living in a post Janet Jackson’s succulent nipple world, scrambled in flawed in attempts, to censor the raucous cursing stemming the jubilant Celtics bench. The rhetoric of joy form K.G and his cohorts would not be denied however, as in a interview that properly displayed how to hit on a female reporter (Joe Namath take notes) and how to be perfectly human.
Gone was the veil for fakeness we are indoctrinated to believe is professionalism, just heartfelt emotion naturally revealed after the accomplishment of a life long goal. Later in the evening Scoop Jackson a writer whom I can name 16,000 scribes whom I’m personally affiliated or just know of, that surpass him talent, struck up a carefree conversation with Mr. Garnett that seem to leave all but a few of the reporters in room perplexed.
Jackson asked Garnett how it felt to let it all out, to be free and just express how he truly felt. Kevin replied that is was like finally standing up to a bully and putting him on his ass. I might be extrapolating to much, but for a moment, one could swear he wasn’t just speaking about being a champion, but the freedom that being a world champion gave him to be himself, false contortions the modern athlete are forced into be damned….
After witnessing the trophy presentation, I might have been the only person in America who turned to NBA TV to watch the postgame press conferences. You know NBA TV the basketball equivalent of the NFL network with 10% of the quality and production cost lower then Channel 1, yup that one. Why?
Let me tell you sports fan, if you take anything from me know this: never underestimate the worth of a great press conference. Simply put, would like enjoy a meal fresh out of the oven emanating a blissful aroma or would you like your dish old, look warm, and served by germ infested hands?
That’s what I thought.
So I headed to channel 662 aka… the last channel before HD so it will forever get igged, to see what the newly crowned champions and well you know…the agony of defeat.
While admittedly there where some mundane moments, I still happened to witness what might have been one of the best moments of live television to occur this year directed by eerily Remy looking Brian Scalabrine.
I’ve said it before and still stand by it:
Fuck a sideline reporter.
If you want the real why don’t you just ask the guy ask the guy on the bench who never plays? It works in politics, why not sports?
What made the Scalabrine One man show even more hilarious was the bluntly spoken proclamation of a previously thought to be deceased by yours truly, Peter Vecsey, who stated to his visibly in denial partner that they “now know their careers are really over” because they got preempted by the red headed center from the LBC., right before he sent it over to David Aldridge.
David Aldridge
From ESPN to TNT to NBA TV?
Dammmmn Homie………
Anyway congrats to the Champions tho
K.G , Jesus Shuttlesworth and The Super Star who I wont make a Hairline or Almighty RSO joke about, along with there band of merry men. (pause)
Now all I haft to do is make it till training camp…….
Dame
Aim: ILLAIM365
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