The Saturday Evening Post-Up: "Falling in Love Again"

So the C’s do just fine without Rondo. They won despite Aaron Brooks’ best efforts, which were mighty indeed. 

                                           Points. He brings points.

I’m not sure I’d chalk this loss up to the Celtics being good so much as the Bulls inexplicably dropping a game from time to time. They get tired, and Thibs can only yell so loud. Maybe he should develop the carrot aspect of his motivational combo. He could take Pau to get some history books at Myopic, or buy Taj a Tastee-Freeze or something. 

Elsewhere in the league, basketball’s favorite billionaire netted another win. Speculation abounds w/r/t the Clippers being "LA’s new team," and I’m not sure why the city would even hesitate with hopping on board. LA is a notoriously fickle town as-is, but who does it hurt, really? It’s not like the Lakers are going to vanish, or check your bank history for Clippers ticket purchases. Plus I’m all for conspiratorially ignoring Kobe, in order to make him achieve Maximum Kobe out of spite.

Steve Kerr can coach some basketball. What’s the Arabic for “only undefeated team left”? Expect Alex to say more about the Golden State in the near future. Expect that "more" to be 90% fanfiction.

Finally we have the Milwaukee Bucks, properly earning a win against the heretofore undefeated Memphis squad.  That isn’t to say Memphis played perfectly. Z-Bo got a little too confident from deep, and the Grizz started to lean on him in lieu of running a proper offense. Randolph made the improbable halftime buzzbeater seen here:

And, paradoxical though it may seem, that shot was the beginning of their end.

There are a few factors that correlate highly with the Bucks that win vs. the Bucks that lose, and they all fell into place. Ersan Ilyasova can play very well, but some nights he performs so badly as to become a liability. Other nights he’s beautiful defensively and efficient on offense. Last night was the latter. 

Then we have the “arms race.” Physical freak spotters all around have pointed to Giannis as if to say, “This is what I meant.” As if all that is required to succeed on the highest level of basketball is to be a gigantic bundle of limbs. In this way many undermine the talent of players by reducing them to borderline-phrenological ratios of arm length, studies of speed and height. These numbers indicate something, certainly, but last night was a reminder that Giannis is here because he can play. 

Consult OJ Mayo’s gorgeous football assist to Antetokonmpo near the end to see what I mean. Court/ball awareness, and most importantly trust, a relationship between teammates, and pretty darn fun basketball. I know the Bucks will ultimately hurt me, as they have before. Alas, I can't help it.

-David

Clippers/Warriors Preview

A dimly lit bar. ANDREW BOGUT is sitting by the taps, four empty pint glasses arrayed before him in no particular pattern. Light pours in momentarily as DRAYMOND GREEN saunters through the door. He spots BOGUT and smiles, which is also a sort of light in the darkness.

BOGUT

Draymond. How're you, mate? Just throwing back some amber fluid before the big game. How "big" of a game is it really though, what with the early returns on the Clippers season being a bit bodgy, especially this mad three-point social experiment from Blake Griffin, that miserable bogan.

DRAYMOND

I'm fine. Coach sent me to find you, said you told him you just had to go to the bathroom.

BOGUT

Yeah, that's true enough, though I meant the one at this bar, even though it smells of freshly made chunder in there. Have a pint mate, it's on me, I'm richer than you after all. Richer than damn near everyone on the squad, really!

DRAYMOND

Thanks.

A BARTENDER, round in the mid-section, but with kind eyes approaches. 

BARTENDER

What'll it be?

DRAYMOND

I'll have a Screwdriver.

BARTENDER

Vodka preference?

DRAYMOND

Well, please.

BARTENDER

Coming right up.

The BARTENDER walks off to make the drink. BOGUT and DRAYMOND sit quietly together. BOGUT is lost in his thoughts. The BARTENDER returns with the drink. DRAYMOND tips two dollars.

BOGUT

Heard you switched agents.

DRAYMOND

Yeah. Figured-

BOGUT

Why'd you do that, Draymond? He ear-bashing you? 

DRAYMOND

Oh no. I just want to put myself in a good position to-

BOGUT

To what, Dray? Fuck over the team? Destroy what we've been building here? 

DRAYMOND

Hell no. You know I'd die for this team.

BOGUT

Heh! Know you'd kill for it, that's true enough. I don't mean to have tall poppy syndrome, mate. You've done bloody well for yourself. Second round pick, impact well beyond the boxscore, fan favorite, all the rotten vegetarians on Twitter love you. You help a squad win a championship. That's why we need you. This squad. You and me and Klay and Steph. The four of us. The rest are expendable shit, well, Iguodala is great, but at the end of the day it's the four of us. Two shooters and two goons. One of us is going to be Finals MVP. You know it, I know it, everyone in the whole world knows it. Even the bloody Kiwis know it, mate.

DRAYMOND

I want to stay with the team, Andrew. You know that.

BOGUT

I know you saw how much money that whacker Klay just got. Don't get me wrong, he's a talented whacker, but he's a whacker nonetheless. You want the brass to know you're worth this money. You want the leverage. Well, let me tell you something, Draymond. Don't forget who you are. You're one of us.

DRAYMOND

I haven't decided anything yet, Andrew. Calm down. Can't we talk about the election or something?

BOGUT

I don't want to talk about the election. I'm not sitting here in the middle of the day in a boozer because this Yank beat that Yank in some state that doesn't matter. 

DRAYMOND

So, what are you doing here?

BOGUT

I'm thinking about which quarter I want to punch Blake Griffin in his balls.

DRAYMOND

That is a coincidence. I was also just thinking that. Except which quarter I want to punch him in the balls.

BOGUT

I think it's best we don't both pick the same quarter.

DRAYMOND

I agree.

BOGUT

I think if that ginger boomer tries to posterize me I'll just grab him by the scrote and knock him into the meanest looking cameraman. He'll have to commission a special pair of budgie smugglers after I'm through with him. 

DRAYMOND

Okay, so you want to throw him into a mean looking camerman after you grab his balls.

BOGUT

Yup.

DRAYMOND

Which quarter though?

BOGUT

Doesn't matter.

DRAYMOND

I'd like to whisper in his ear "Your parents love Taylor more than you" during the third, probably in the first minute or so, you know, help us get us off to a hot start.

BOGUT

Niiiice.

DRAYMOND

Yeah, I figure I'll start shoving him really hard in the second though. 

BOGUT

Draymond, you are a regular bushranger! You remind me of a young me. Except I was the #1 pick. You know that?

DRAYMOND

Damn, Bogey. Of course I knew that! And Marvin Williams went second, Deron Williams went third and-

BOGUT

Chris Paul went fourth. Never trust a man with two first names. Never. Chris Paul...He's a cut snake he is. Meaner that almost anybody that plays the game.

DRAYMOND

Except us.

BOGUT smiles. He raises an empty glass in salute and Draymond clinks his barely touched Screwdriver to it. 

BOGUT

That's right, mate. Except us. Now prove it. What's your plan?

DRAYMOND

I'm going to devour the soul of Matt Barnes tonight. And then I will devour the soul of Chris Douglas-Roberts and I will burn his novelty short shorts on a fire I've lit using the body of Reggie Bullock. If Hedo comes at me I will break his thumbs and put a hex upon his offspring.

BOGUT

Their small forward rotation leaves a bit to be desired, don't it? London to a brick they're going nowhere in the post-season without some trade deadline reinforcements. 

DRAYMOND

Sometimes you give them a taste of their own blood and it gets in their heads.

BOGUT

Right you are, mate. I already told Festus to wink at DeAndre Jordan every time he catches the ball and if winking doesn't work drool a little bit.

DRAYMOND

Every time who catches the ball? Festus or DJ? 

BOGUT

Don't matter. Festus has a little bit of the devil in him, same as us. A few more games to knock the rust off he'll be routinely sending dongers to the never-never.

DRAYMOND

Man, I hear that.

BOGUT

Blake Griffin does not reach the fourth quarter.

DRAYMOND

Blake Griffin does not reach the fourth quarter.

BOGUT

Fourth quarter Steph and Klay clean house. Iguodala and you will shut down Chris Paul. Don't worry about hitting him in his old fella. What must be done must be done.

DRAYMOND

We would have won last year in the playoffs if only you could have been with us, man.

BOGUT

I know, mate.

DRAYMOND

Some people say the Grizzlies and the Clippers are the best rivalry in the NBA.

BOGUT

I want to know what kind of raw uncut heroin those people are snorting and where is it that I can get some. Sure, it's fun watching the Grizzlies treat the Clippers like the technicolor yawn in human form that they are, but seriously, who on the Grizzlies is going to punch Blake Griffin's dick the way we do? Who is going to punch his dick and then convince the world that he actually fouled us? Tony Allen? Zach Randolph? Those blokes are not exactly Crocodile Dundee when it comes to acting.

DRAYMOND

Tonight I will destroy Blake Griffin. Tonight he'll wish he had never made a KIA commercial. Tonight he'll dine in hell.

They toast again. A long pause.

BOGUT

Blake's a pretty nice guy, actually.

DRAYMOND

Yes, I like him alright.

The BARTENDER sighs at that and starts cleaning a beer glass. He thinks of his mother's smile and the long walk back to his apartment. Everything will be okay...if he can just get back home.

warriors by 10

At C: A Boston Sports Post

“Frisch weht der Wind

Der Heimat zu

Mein Irish Kind

Wo weilest du?"

As is the case with all other Boston sports teams, you can only claim to be a fan if you’ve threatened to fight someone over team-slander. But most of the bad things you could say about the Celtics right now happen to be true. Former GQ intern Rajon Rondo does not look as good as we’d like. For those of you defending the man who stands before us, remember this? 

That’s what could-have-been looks like. 

I managed to avoid watching the C’s most of last year, if only because I don’t like to see epic poetry turn into a bildungsroman. But now I’m back, from outer space, and there’s a very little bit of hope. Kelly Olynyk and his gross facial hair still aren’t impressive. Zeller turns out to be the German word for “bench”.

It’s still early days in this year’s education of the never-sufficiently-tanking Celtics, but a light shone in the second half of the Mavericks game. After being thoroughly stomped into the ground by the dark scoring engine that is Dallas in the first, things came together. Marcus Smart looks like he’s been to this particular rodeo before, and nowhere was this more apparent than with his beautiful recovery-to-behind-the-back-assist combo when it was needed most.

Announcers said—like you do—that you shouldn’t get behind by so many points early in the game, but that’s not always controllable against Dallas. The Mavs score at an unmatchable clip unless they’re somehow destabilized, and this happened in much of the third quarter.

It should be noted that there’s a bit of rivalry between Jeff Green and Dirk. Jeff broke Dirk’s face open with an elbow. Dirk does not forgive; Dirk does not forget.

Avery Bradley stepped up to get the team within striking distance, but then, in the blink of an eye, the Dallas lead went from three to ten and it was all but over. Certain demoralizing factors played a role. On a tear, Rondo eurostepped into an offensive foul (~5:30 remaining in the 4th), and it seemed to give Dirk and Co. the deep breath needed to take things home. 

Ultimately, the Celtics were playing a game they couldn’t win. The wheels come off, and you try to caulk the wagons and float. Sometimes the stream is so strong you scrap the wagons, build a flatboat, and ride downstream into better country. Sometimes you build your own little civilization on your raft, and tell yourself the shore doesn’t exist. You learn to catch oceanic birds with bits of glue and fish guts. You develop a wicked tan. As the noise of the sea rocks you to sleep, you dream of Kevin and Paul and Ray, of a better time, of the only Celtics you choose to remember.

Tell me you don't miss it.

-David

Stray thought:
The Mavericks drumline. I don't have a joke for this one.

Jazz-Clippers Preview

if i let you go...do you think you could fly?

huh!

Get ready for the game of the century. The 16th century! This is a game for people who remember the Old Ways. The Clippers come into the season as prohibitive favorites to limp out of the West, but there is always some unexpected anarchy during these early days. Thus, it is no great surprise that the heretofore laughingstock of polite society, the Sacramento Kings, put a six-point whooping on them. As one of our best Scottish proverbs tells us: if you can't get revenge on the goose then get revenge on the gosling. That gosling is the Utah Jazz, a basketball team featuring several men, none of which happen to be Andris Biedrins. May it ever be so.

These are probably the starting line ups, but on the other hand, maybe they aren't? There's always the possibility that Doc Rivers goes insane and starts Big Baby Davis at point-guard and shooting guard or that Enes Kanter falls truly, madly, deeply in love with a pretty girl he sees in the stands right before tip-off and they hit it off and take a romantic stroll to the LaBrea Tar Pits together but at the end of the night she confesses it was actually Dante Exum she liked the entire time and do you think she likes him back? Anyway, the lineups:

Chris Paul	PG	Trey Burke
J.J. Redick	SG	Alec Burks
Matt Barnes	SF	Gordon Hayward
Blake Griffin	PF	Enes Kanter
DeAndre Jordan	C	Derrick Favors

What will happen in this game is anyone's guess, though here are my particular guesses. 

These are the faces of Utah's big man tandem, still getting to know each other, still trying to understand one another's space and spaces, as they behold the first lob of the night. Enes takes it especially hard, since it was he, sweet young man from Turkey that he is, that Blake Griffin how do you say, posterizes. Derrick Favors, always sort of a stoic dude, tells himself not to get even, but to get mad.

This is Quin Snyder when he sees the Jazz storm back to take a slim lead right before halftime. This curious rally was more curiously led by Steve Novak, who is not the stretch 4 the Utah Jazz need, but the stretch 4 the Utah Jazz have. Every time Novak nails a three Enes Kanter hops off the bench and pumps his huge fist in the air. Snyder then tells the guys to pick up the pace, and is caught mic'd up in a huddle revealing secrets of NBA coaching, telling the guys to "push the pace and get easy baskets in transition, and to do the thing where you grab the ball after someone misses it."

The Jazz have taken a ten point lead midway through the 3rd quarter. They are already dumping gatorade on each other, high fiving, low fiving, fist bumping, shaking hands solemnly. Quin Snyder tells them to calm down and that "there is a lot of game left" but he too cracks a tiny smile, for he knows that one day, perhaps very soon, this team may be halfway decent. Gordon Hayward runs his hand through his hair and is actually nice to the kid trying to hand him a towel. He's a playmaker. He was born to get out in the open floor and run.  It used to be that you couldn't run in a Jazz uniform without tripping over Al Jefferson or Paul Millsap. Perhaps those days are over. Perhaps...

But then Chris Paul makes four long-twos in rapid succession and Blake Griffin tumbles to the hoop for some mildly upsetting dunks. Utah's entire frontline is disrespected. Hedo spits in Trey Burke's general direction and a few technicals are called. Steve Novak misses the free throw. Blake dunks five more times. A man in the stands chokes, but manages to spit up the pretzel. His wife rubs his back the rest of the night. They voted for Jon Huntsman.

"I'm so happy we won the game!" J.J. Reddick tells Matt Barnes after the buzzer sounds and the Utah Jazz slink off the court like beaten curs. Matt Barnes thinks back to the days when he and this nice looking boy-man used to be on the Orlando Magic together, when they would stay up all hours of the night talking about the future, and space technology, and how they wish summers could last forever, and how Dwight Howard had a staring problem. 

Matt Barnes finally just musses Reddick's hair and says "Yeah." Then he walks to the showers, whistling a Gladys Knight and the Pips song. 

"Matt Barnes has a strange and dark road to walk," Doc Rivers says to a very sweaty J.J. Reddick.

 J.J. then comes out of a trance and turns to his coach and says, "My middle name is Clay. My middle name...is Clay."

The Utah Jazz go out to In-N-Out Burger. Rudy Gobert's order is all wrong, but the team is more or less happy with their performance. They showed promise, they showed they belonged, they showed up. This team has a lot of talent, a lot of guts, more brains than usual for a young team, and a spirit that is at least above average. It's a long season, but they've already made their point. Even the wretched need not go quiet into this long dark hellish night.

Let them Eat Blood

On Steph defense RT @ThomasAwful: @Money23Green Awesome win Dray. Sup with giving people a taste of their own blood though?

— Draymond Green (@Money23Green) November 3, 2014

The Boogie Enigma

Hello everyone (hello Dave), and welcome to Garbage Time Pump Faker's first guest post, courtesy of the mysterious Jon Getz!

I'm torn on Boogie Cousins. On the one hand, he's been one of the few legitimate no-brainer double-double threats every single night since he came into the league four years ago, and on the other, he's just...volatile. 

Sacramento's win today against the Clippers was a microcosm of Boogie (who, let's be honest, has the best nickname in the NBA--what's more fun than screaming BOOOGIIEEEEEEE after he puts the fear of God into Jonas Valanciunas). He put up a 34/17/5 with three blocks, the Kings ran the offense through him in the last four minutes, and he had two beautiful drop passes down low that you would expect from someone like Steve Nash rather than a 6'11'' center. On the other hand, he looked disinterested, jogged up the court, and almost lost Sacramento the game with a stupid offensive goaltending on a Collison shot that was going in with 24.4 second left in the game.

Do we care too much about Boogie's "body language?" Would we even notice his sour looks if he didn't have his reputation? Probably, but that's like saying "if LeBron wasn't LeBron, people would call him a terrible teammate for embarrassing Mario Chalmers on a nightly basis last year." Most of the time, you earn both the free passes and criticisms you get.

I think the Boogie enigma, as much we want him to turn into a Tim Duncan-type that just goes about his business and doesn't mope when he doesn't get the ball for three possessions in a row, can be summed up like this--Boogie is the ridiculously talented pick-up basketball player that you just don't want to play with. You know the guy--he's got a wet jumper, killer handles, and can get to the rim whenever he wants, but if he thinks he got passed up when he was open he's going to walk back on D, leaving your team to play four on five defense. You'd almost prefer to play with a bunch of your buddies and risk losing the game (and then be relegated to pick-up purgatory, when there are eight guys who all "have next") than play with that guy and be guaranteed at least three straight wins. At least you and your teammates can bond over how much it sucks to play with him. Sometimes your Boogie is actually fun to play with, you enjoy yourself, and get to stay on the court for a bunch of games in a row. But the issue is when you start losing.

And with Darren Collison leading your team, losing is in Boogie's future. We'll see how long he can hold it together, because if he can, we're going to witness something really special.

You can follow Jon Getz at @jongetz09 where he'll overreact about Vanderbilt football and occasionally has humorous thoughts, and sometimes wonders if he is that pick up guy. 

25 Things Klay Thompson Does Not Reminds Me of & 25 Things Klay Thompson Reminds Me Of

25 Things Klay Thompson Does Not Remind Me Of

1. Punk rock. Any kind, from any time
2. A recently extinguished campfire at a Methodist retreat when you are 14
3. The collected works of Isaac Asimov
4. New Order covering "Love Will Tear Us Apart"
5. The laughter of hyenas before a kill
6. Mychal Thompson
7. Falling down a flight of stairs in front of the woman you love
8. A guy who enjoys black and white movies
9. An empty Fugazi show
10. A messy apartment
11. Being slightly late for a job interview
12. Eating the last donut
13. Getting sucker punched, bragging that it didn't hurt
14. Stephen Curry
15. The Wire Season 4
16. A committed relationship
17. A long embrace with your estranged father
18. Holding the door open for a stranger
19. Helping a friend move
20. Bloodsport
21. Baseball
22. Cool hair
23. Coke Zero
24. Blues scale
25. Being upset when the Crocodile Hunter died

and on the other side of the pretend coin:

25 Things Klay Thompson Reminds Me Of

1. A guitar solo that goes on a few seconds too long
2. Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me
3. The wide eyed innocence of a newborn babe on dope
4. A misattributed quote
5. 3 of the 7 samurai from Seven Samurai
6. Microwave dinners, specifically those of the Lean Cuisine variety
7. Interpol's discography
8. Satan, if he was a little younger
9. Ordering a Philly Cheesesteak from an abrasive and racist cheeseteak joint
10. The second option we've been dreaming of
11. Trying to learn Farsi, giving up, trying again
12. A fear of ghosts
13. Pepsi Max
14. Waving at someone who was actually waving at the person behind you
15. Movies with swords
16. Extremely basic dance moves
17. The subjunctive
18. Washing a car while listening to "Jesse's Girl"
19. Flip flops with socks
20. 25 points per game
21. In-N-Out Burger
22. A barely noticeable earthquake
23. College radio
24. Worn down colored pencils
25. Gigli