Before you go judging me, let me say this: I am not a Minnesota Timberwolves fan. I don’t follow the Timberwolves, could care less whether they succeed in the NBA, and don’t usually absorb myself in their personnel issues.
But this is different. This involves a kid who made a stupid decision that screwed over America. Not just the Timberwolves. Not just the state of Minnesota. The United States of America.
If you happen to be American and love your country, then you should find it in your heart to hate Ricky Rubio. It’s patriotism.
Hating Ricky Rubio should be synonymous with fireworks on the Fourth of July, watermelon at summer picnics, and turkey at Thanksgiving. It should be second nature to all of us who stand and put our hands over our hearts when The Star Spangled Banner plays.
Unless you happen to be the most punch-drunk Gonzaga Bulldogs fan around, it’s easy to hate Adam Morrison.
When he was in college, the former Zag had a penchant for knocking down frustratingly impossible shots, often displayed a bad attitude, threw tantrums, yelled at teammates and coaches, didn’t hustle, wouldn’t play defense, openly wept on a national stage, rarely showered (supposedly), and refused to shave the dirty sanchez on his upper lip. Add to that the greasy crop of hair he wouldn’t cut for five years and you pretty much had the most repulsive human being on the face of the planet.
Three years later, Adam Morrison is a Los Angeles Laker who has been humbled by injuries, unfortunate circumstances, and a trade.
He no longer wears his hair long, rarely lashes out at the people around him, makes an effort to play defense, and has learned that hard work and hustle is a requirement for a guy looking to get off the bench.
The out-of-place mustache is still there, and no word on whether he showers or not, but at least fans can now look at Morrison and feel something for the former first-round pick that they never felt before: compassion.
But I need to know who the scrub on the Cavs’ bench was who, immediately after Lebron knocked down the game-winning three, stood up, made the “count it” motion with his hands, and started walking like a pimp towards the screaming, yelling, insane mass of teammates that was jumping up and down at midcourt.
It was pretty much the most baller move I’ve ever seen in my life. Like this guy all of a sudden had all the answers to every question the world around. Lebron’s trey was nice, but I’ll never forget that pimpin move by the scrub.
Dallas Mavericks’ owner Mark Cuban reportedly had words with the mother of Denver Nuggets’ forward Kenyon Martin last Saturday, and Martin is understandably upset.
Vowing to “take care” of the incident, Martin went on to proclaim himself a man who prefers face-to-face interaction, rather than the media blab that Cuban is more fond of. Uh oh, Cuban, best be watching your back.
The details surrounding the altercation between Cuban and Martin’s mom, Lydia Moore, are slightly muddled.
Some reports state that Moore, who was wearing a Nuggets jersey amidst the crowd of Mavericks fans, was in tears at the end of the game following harassment from the surrounding attendees. Those reports claim that Cuban added fuel to an already burning fire by directing further verbal abuse towards Moore.
Here’s the excerpt, taken from ESPN.com (follow the article link above for video footage):
“The father of the 12-year-old boy bumped by Celtics big man Glen “Big Baby” Davis after Sunday’s game-winning shot is demanding an apology.
Ernest Provetti told the Orlando Sentinel that he wrote the NBA office demanding an apology from Davis for acting like a “raging animal with no regard for fans’ personal safety.” NBA spokesman Tim Frank confirmed the league received the e-mail but declined to comment on it.
Ron Artest’s greatest enemy is himself. The only person who can take the man out of a ballgame, it seems, is Ron Artest. Possessing a manic personality that is as volatile as it is mercurial — one minute smiling, the next minute snarling — the Houston Rockets forward is an enigma that is equal parts blessed and cursed at precisely the same time.
We have all heard the stories of Artest’s redemption time and again and rest assured, this is not one of those. Ron Artest is hardly a redeemed man, barely able to move past the now-infamous 2004 “Malice at the Palace” incident that sealed his fate as one of the NBA’s greatest thugs.
He is more entertaining now, and often more contained, able to pick and choose the moments when Mount Artest erupts, in spite of the lava that threatens to flow at all times.