Seattle Sportsnet

So I have this friend. His name is not relevant, but for the sake of this article will call him Bryan Smivish. Smivish is a 36-year-old single man, happily ensconced in his world of bachelorhood. He dates women, he enjoys women, and I imagine he likely knows how to treat women right. If I had an attractive, single lady friend, for instance, I would certainly recommend she give Smivish a try. He’s a good guy, deserving of a well-to-do, diminutive female companion. Ladies, if you’re interested in Smivish, please let me know, I’ll arrange the meeting.

All that said, Smivish likes to tell me about what he calls the “Crazy-Hot Scale.” The Crazy-Hot Scale is a gauge by which a woman’s intrinsic craziness is measured against her extrinsic hotness. If a woman was incredibly hot and not all that crazy, she would be a pretty good catch, according to Smivish’s Crazy-Hot Scale. By contrast, if a woman happened to be…homely…while simultaneously…looney, she would be undateable, per the scale. Most women, as it turns out, happen to fall somewhere in the middle.

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Because those of us who are anti-Gonzaga need to remember this. Always.

And I’m pretty sure Robert Sacre is that douchey guy at the club wearing Ed Hardy and too much Axe body spray that macks on anything that moves. Either that or the devil. He might also be the devil.

All images courtesy Getty. Thank you, Getty. Thank you so very much.

CLICK HERE TO JOIN THE SSN/HEART ATHLETICS BRACKET CHALLENGE!

I guess the one positive for Husky fans in this post-apocalyptic world of day-after-Selection-Sunday is the fact that this year, no one will be plagued by an irrational NCAA Tournament bracket that has the hometown team winning it all. I realize that’s not much of a positive. But we’re looking for anything here. So let’s go with this.

That said, the Big Dance kicks off in just a few days, which means you probably have thousands of requests to join the bracket pools of all your friends. But how do you choose which pools to join? That’s a good question with no easy answer. Can you really turn your back on lesser friends and their lower-quality pools? That’s cold-blooded, but yes, you can.

At the risk of sabotaging your relationships, I’d like to invite you to join the Seattle Sportsnet/Heart Athletics Bracket Challenge. It’s a joint production, like a Biggie and Puff Daddy cut. My friend John Harris runs the one-of-a-kind clothing company that is Heart Athletics, and we’re teaming up to bring you a free tournament pool that includes a custom-designed t-shirt for the overall winner. You can see examples of a shirt John was kind enough to make for me below, as well as other designs on the Heart Athletics website.

The winner’s shirt will feature a “Bracket Champion” distinction, their name, their picture, vital tournament statistics, and a description of the winner’s road to the title (and yes, it will make you sound like an incredible conquistador).

We’re not the only tournament pool out there, but we like to think we have the most unique prize. And since you can’t get a prize like this anywhere else, be sure to sign up and compete! It’s free, fun, and…free. Yeah, I ran out of words that start with “F.”

I read an article on Tony Wroten’s less-than-clutch performance down the stretch in Thursday’s loss to Oregon State and felt compelled to respond. As this feeling of compulsion rarely overwhelms me, I decided to follow through on my emotion with an actual response. I can tell you’re as impressed as I am by this turn of events.

All jokes aside, there’s something very real and intriguing about the player that Wroten has become over the course of this past season. So before we address the specific moment in recent history that has inspired such debate, let’s go back in time to last fall, when the Husky faithful was first formally introduced to No. 14…

From the moment he arrived on the campus of the University of Washington, fans seemed to take Tony Wroten with a grain of salt. The six-foot-five-inch point guard was a supremely talented prep superstar with a history of interesting, albeit relatively harmless, decisions away from the court. Skipping a high school Spanish class, then unwittingly revealing an academic scandal through Twitter as a result of a braggadocious post about said truancy might be the first interesting decision that comes to mind with Wroten. The teenager’s perceived legacy, however, was seemingly defined before such a violation ever occurred.

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My gut feeling is that the Huskies will — yes, will — be going to the Big Dance. They’ll make it and it will totally be undeserved. I liken the Dawgs making the NCAA Tournament to a reckless teenager being bequeathed a brand new BMW by his wealthy, oblivious parents…right after he totaled the last BMW they previously gave to him.

This version of the Huskies has been given chance after chance after chance. Amazingly, they’ve continued to blow those chances, one after the other, only to later pay witness to good fortune falling squarely in their lap.

Take, for instance, the Pac-12 regular season championship. Heading into the final days of conference play, Washington had a golden opportunity to win the league title outright by knocking off an embattled UCLA team. They squandered that opportunity, thus putting their fate in the hands of the California Golden Bears. A Cal victory over Stanford meant Washington would share the title with the Bears; a Cal loss meant the Huskies would be blessed with the crown. As we all know now, California lost and Washington signed for a shiny package delivered at their doorstep. They won the Pac-12 title, but did they really earn it? I guess that depends on one’s perspective.

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Because no one really gives a shit about this tournament. And because it’s fun to predict things.

(Winners of each matchup listed in BOLD.)

FIRST ROUND

Game 1: Washington State (8) vs. Oregon State (9), 12:00 p.m., Wednesday, March 7

Player of the Year candidate Brock Motum leads all scorers with eight points as the Cougars knock off the Beavs 17-12 in first-round play. Announced attendance for the tournament’s first game is 22. A quick head count of everyone in the arena reveals that only 19 people are actually present, however.

Game 2: UCLA (5) vs. USC (12), 2:30 p.m., Wednesday, March 7

The Bruins continue their stick-up-their-ass, inspired-by-scandal run to the NIT by throttling the Trojans and their bevy of backcourt munchkins. Reeves Nelson buys a ticket and sits courtside, but is later removed from the premises after rushing the court and setting a hard pick on one of his former teammates.

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My heart doesn’t always have the capacity to communicate words in the way I’d like to communicate them. It doesn’t matter what the words are, really. They can be about sports, about life, about culture, about something funny, about an experience, about a moment. The words are there, in my head, and I can sense them, but the desire to convey them, to share them with the world, that doesn’t always align.

It is never easy to do the things that you truly love. And there’s a reason for that. When you truly love something, you give it your all. You don’t cut corners on the things you love. You put your entire being into the things you love. You sacrifice for the things you love. You place the things you love on a pedestal above your own self. The things you love, they are what define you, they are your legacy.

We can only love so many things in our lives. There is only so much time in the day, so much time in our very existence, so much time in any sense that you’d measure it, to give ourselves to these things. So, not everybody has the ability or the opportunity to love something. Those who do are fortunate. I’m fortunate.

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I know. I haven’t written very much lately. Thus, I am in no position to tell you what to do. But let’s pretend for the sake of this very moment that the reason I haven’t been writing is because I’ve been preparing myself for this amazing monstrosity of a basketball game, the Feels Like Hardwood Classic.

Yes, people, it’s tonight. The big day has finally arrived. We’re determined to put on a show for you. We’ll sing the national anthem, have a Will Ferrell-esque starting lineup announcement, provide halftime entertainment, and yes, indulge you with our skills on the hardwood. It’s free and it’s amazing. You might even get to see Ryan Divish have a Ron Artest moment or two (and just a reminder, the Ryan Divish Workout Plan is 25 pushups per missed layup, as well as 25 pushups per emotional blow-up).

So come on out to the game tonight (details are below) and join the fun. We’ll be getting drinks at a local watering hole after the game and look forward to hanging out with all of you.

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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