Seattle Sportsnet

A big thanks to Josh Liebeskind for writing this article about the Dawg Pack and yours truly. I’m no expert on journalism, but if I was in charge of handing out Pulitzers, well, I’d at least consider Josh’s story.

Seriously, though, I’m flattered to have this…thing…I used to do featured in the newspaper of my alma mater. Makes all those classes I skipped (and the two extra years of undergraduate education, my Redshirt and Medical Redshirt years, as I like to refer to them) totally worth it.

Couldn’t be more appreciative of the opportunity to sit down and talk with an up-and-coming writer about the goofy things in my past. Please give the article a read if you get a chance. Thanks!

Take a look at this ESPN poll. Anything seem weird there?

The first time the Zonics come to town to face the Sonics, I plan on blowing this photo up, sticking it on posterboard, and writing YOU PEOPLE ARE IDIOTS underneath. Keep it simple, right?

Bring back our Sonics.

Imagine, for a minute, that I am a pimp boss. I run this town. I oversee all the pimps on these streets and offer them my protection. I also coordinate their hos. Here ho, go to this pimp, he’ll treat you real nice. That’s how I do it.

Now imagine that you are my top pimp. You’re damn good at what you do. You take your hos out to the track on Pacific Highway South and pull in thousands of dollars every single night. I don’t know how you do it, I just know that I get my biggest cut from you, so in turn, I like you. We get along, you and I. I’m a fan of yours. You’re good to me, I’m good to you, it works.

Now let’s pretend that we just got this new chick. She’s fine. Real fine. She probably shouldn’t be doing this, but we don’t tell her that. This girl could be a model if she wanted to be. But for some reason she wants to turn tricks. So whatever, it’s cool. We can help her out. We’ll call her Brandy.

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I’m wearing a Sonics sweatshirt today. It’s green, it has a hood, it zips up, it’s nice.

I wore a Sonics t-shirt yesterday. Grey. It’s my favorite shirt. I wear it every week. There’s a faded stain underneath the screen print that most people don’t notice. I get a little self-conscious about blemishes on my clothing, but this one doesn’t bother me so much.

I have a trash can in my room. It’s a Sonics trash can. Right now it’s lined with a plastic shopping bag from Target. This morning, I noticed the bag was obscuring the green-and-gold logo on the exterior. I rearranged the bag. I want people to see that logo when they walk in.

I have a hoop on my bedroom door. When I dunk on it, I’m Shawn Kemp. When I shoot jumpers, I’m Detlef. When I kiss it off the glass, I’m G.P. When I miss, I’m Sene.

I like to search “seattle sonics” on YouTube and see what comes up. I like to mutter “Suuuuuuuuuuuuuuupersonics” quietly under my breath when no one else is around. I get a little excited when I overhear names like “Eddie Johnson” in casual conversation.

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The NBA likes to pretend we don’t exist. That we don’t care about them and as a result they, in turn, don’t have to care about us. Seattle? Where’s Seattle? Is that a village or something? What is that?

We had our basketball team stolen from us and relocated a thousand miles away in the middle of God-knows-where. That was bad enough, certainly. But it was made worse by the fact that we were repeatedly slandered after the pillaging. That the thieves made off with our prized possession, then tried to convince the masses that we didn’t care about being hijacked. Seattle fans are apathetic, they said. Seattle fans don’t deserve our product. Seattle fans haven’t been showing up to games, or cheering for their team, or even giving a damn about what happens on the court with their Sonics. Seattle fans weren’t good enough, they claimed.

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I am of the belief that the people who read this website are some of the wittiest, most intelligent, best-looking people anyone could ever possibly meet. While your good looks may not play a role in what I’m about to propose to you, your wit and intelligence certainly will.

You see, every year I like to recap the Super Bowl in some form or fashion (here’s an article from last year for reference). This year will be no different. Well, slightly different.

This year, rather than just going on and on about my own opinions of the game, the ads, the halftime show, the Puppy Bowl, the pageantry, the commentators, the event and any of its surroundings as a whole, I want to include all of you, as well. Yes, I’m lazy. I thank you in advance for your help.

For those of you who follow me on Twitter, I’ll be brain-dumping all my immediate thoughts there for the better part of the afternoon. If you’d like to contribute a brief quip that could possibly find its way into the interactive recap, by all means please send those thoughts to @alexssn.

If you don’t have a Twitter account, feel free to participate on Facebook by commenting on the message thread (it will be up later, shortly before kickoff) on the Seattle Sportsnet page.

You guys are awesome and I look forward to hearing what you have to say. Enjoy the day, make sure you drink a lot if you’re a drinker, eat a lot if you’re an eater, and have fun with your friends. Because really, that’s what the Super Bowl is all about. A great effing time.

The best dunker in the NBA right now…has a perm. If this were a matter of determining who the best dunker in NBA history with a perm was, then by all means Blake Griffin would win. He would edge out Paul Mokeski by a landslide. In fact, it might be a unanimous decision in Griffin’s favor. But sadly for the Clippers’ young forward, greatness is not determined by the hair upon one’s head.

If greatness were, in fact, determined by the hair upon one’s head, then Shawn Kemp would not only be the best dunker of all-time with a tilted flattop fade, but also the best dunker of all-time, period. End of story. You know he was the greatest. It goes without saying. And that fade? It was filthy. F-I-L-T-H-Y. How many people have you ever seen with a tilted flattop fade? One. Shawn F**kin’ Kemp. Nobody else has ever dared to do that with their ‘do. And if they tried? People would just laugh and call them Shawn Kemp imposters. Because Kemp was that prolific. Pro-effing-lific.

I like Blake Griffin. I do. For a guy who looks like the offspring of Cory Matthews and a Monstar, he’s pretty good. He plays a decent game. He fields lob passes nicely. He can navigate a Kia with the best Korean drivers in the world. He’s even made me a part-time Clippers fan (full-time Sonics fan, however…that will never change). But when it comes to dunking, he is the senpai to Kemp’s sensei. Bow to your sensei, Blake Griffin. Bow to him!

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Over the years, I’ve learned to never underestimate a woman. There are women out there who enjoy xBox, for example. Or like to watch porn as often as dudes. Or can even lead a receiver on the perfect corner route for a touchdown. Women can do anything. Men, on the other hand, are simple creatures.

If anything, women should have learned long ago to never overestimate men. We have a capacity for things we’re good at that maxes out around, say, six or seven. You’ll never meet a guy who is good at more than six or seven things. If you’re a woman, you better hope the man you settle down with doesn’t waste that capacity on stupid shit like Magic Cards or the construction of rubber band balls. We’re working with limited resources here.

Further, men only like six or seven things, as well. Most often the things we like are closely tied to the things we’re good at. For instance, I’m good at reading books. I also like reading books. You see how this works? It’s not that difficult.

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To a professional sports franchise, the best fans are like great pets. They never stray because they lack intellectual curiosity. They never ask for more than a little love and some food. They’re easily distracted by toys and other nonsense. Very simply, they are dumb, happy, and satisfied.

We do have some of those fans here in Seattle. Many, I’d imagine. But we also have a number of other fans. Different types of fans. Unique fans. Good fans, even. It’s time we examined those fans and looked within ourselves to find out who we truly are.

Below is a list of 11 fan profiles for your viewing pleasure. This isn’t just any list, though. It’s a list pertinent to our very region. These are Seattle sports fan profiles. They’re ours. And they’re amazing.

11. Disciples of Geoff Baker

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What follows is a letter I have sent to the station manager at Sports Radio KJR, Rich Moore. Feel free to email Rich at programming@kjram.com if you have an opinion you’d like to share. You can also contact Rich on Twitter, @950PD.

“Take a look at me now, ’cause there’s just an empty space. And you coming back to me is against all odds, and that’s what I’ve got to face.” -Phil Collins.

Hello Rich,

You’ll notice I’ve quoted Phil Collins above. A man only does that when he’s desperate, Rich. I wish I could just make you turn around. Turn around and see me cry. There’s so much I need to say to you. So many reasons why.

Rich, I’m writing to you today with a plea. I’m writing on my own accord, unbeknownst to my cohorts, asking you to let us bring back the internet’s greatest podcast, Karate Emergency. I’ve searched the entire web. There are no better podcasts. Ours won. It’s science.

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Recruiting in college athletics is stupid. It brings out the worst in everybody. It exposes coaches as slimeballs, fans as batshit crazy whiners, and the high school prey as immature, entitled punks.

A short while ago, Doug Pacey of the Tacoma News-Tribune wrote this article on fans’ “nastiness” during the recruiting process. The piece could not have been more precise in explaining the ever-narrowing gap between fans and prospective college athletes, a divide that has been lessened with the rise of the internet age.

While college recruiting has always been a sleazy industry, hardcore fanatics have only really been brought into the fold over the past decade, as sites like Rivals.com and Scout.com (host to our very own Dawgman.com) have made prep athletics — and all which that entails; namely, recruiting — their primary focus. At the same time, social media websites like Facebook and Twitter have given fans direct access to the recruits themselves, a caustic union akin to mixing Tim McGraw and Nelly (every time I hear Over and Over, I’m quite positive a child in a third-world country is stricken with malaria).

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Hello, Seattle. The news says we’re going to get between one and twelve inches of snow on Wednesday. One and twelve. That’s a hell of a range. I told my last date that she’d be getting between one and twelve inches when we got home and we never went out again, so, yeah. Good work, local meteorologists. Way to narrow it down for us.

I was at the grocery store preparing for this monstrosity earlier today. I scoured the aisles like I was on Supermarket Sweep, stockpiling all the essentials: microwaveable meals, cookies, Red Bull, string cheese. My cart was a dietician’s worst nightmare. But whatever, right? That’s why we have the Wroten Workout Plan. Unclogs the arteries. Oh, and the Red Bull was sugar free, so there’s that.

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Welcome to Pop Culture Friday! As you probably know, I don’t always write about sports here at Seattle Sportsnet. So rather than keeping you guessing on when non-sports articles will appear on these pages, I’ve devoted Friday to the eclectic cause. Expect a good dose of pop culture every Friday from here on out. If you love it, enjoy. If you hate it, that’s one day out of the week you don’t have to visit the site. Without further ado…

The other day, my buddy Griffin Bennett (@GriffinWB on the Twitter; read his work over at Montlake Madness) tipped me off to an article simply entitled 10 Most Crucial Middle School Dance Jams. I took a look at the piece…and was thoroughly disappointed. First of all, any list that considers a song by Joe to be the most crucial of the most crucial is absolutely abysmal. Joe’s own mother wouldn’t put his music at the top, so why should anyone else?

Regardless, the article inspired me. It inspired me to not only compile a list of my own, but also to make that list helpful in some way or another. Writing about middle school dance jams is nostalgic and all, but it isn’t much more than that. So I decided I’d give every guy out there advice on music by which to get laid. Don’t thank me. I’m just trying to do my part.

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One for every f**king year of history we have.

1. We’re the Seattle Supersonics, the only team in NBA history to have the word “Super” in our nickname. That’s not by accident. We’re super awesome.

2. We used to play our games in the Coliseum, which is so highly thought of that the Romans named their ancient structure after our much more modern one.

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