Seriously, though, look at Duncan's team. Tony Parker is an excellent scorer but isn't proficient at running an offense (although, in that system, he really doesn't have to be). Manu Ginobili is really good at a lot of things and great at nothing (except for flopping, of course). Brent Barry, Bruce Bown, Michael Finley, and Robert Horry are all in their mid to late 30s. Their starting center is Fabricio Oberto. That backup point guard is Jacque Vaughn. You know why these guys all look as good as they do? Because Tim Duncan makes everybody better. Kobe should watch Duncan and take notes.
Seattle Supersonics: The city of Seattle is a pretty depressing place. It rains almost every day, the sun only shines five or six days per year, and it's cold most of the year. But damn it, at least the city has its Starbucks and the Supersonics! Oh, wait; they might not have the Sonics much longer. Hopefully Kevin Durant can thrill and entertain the fans during what may well be the team's farewell tour.
Utah Jazz: Rumor has it that Jerry Sloan has acquiesced to team owner Larry Miller's edict and is now complimenting Andre Kirilenko at least as often as he criticizes him. Sloan has also agreed to hand out unicorn stickers for every properly executed pick and roll and will bake cookies for any player who gets a DNP-CD.
fan whore (fan hor) noun. A fan who either roots for multiple teams or who foresakes certain obligatory loyalties -- such as to the hometown team -- to support another team of his or her own choosing.
Usage example: Lebron James was seen last night rooting for the New York Yankees to beat his hometown Indians. What a fan whore.
Word Trivia: A couple weeks ago, somebody asked me which NBA team I followed. I replied that my favorite teams were the Bulls, Celtics, Jazz, Pacers, Suns, and Spurs. His reaction was priceless; it was like I'd just admitted to eating a live kitten. He wigged out and said, "What a fan whore! You only get to have one favorite team. Choose one and stick with it."
I got the same kind of reaction a few months ago when a guy on the train platform asked me whether I rooted for the Cubs or White Sox. "Well, I live in Chicago," I said, "so I root for both teams." The dude literally jumped up and down like he was stomping huge, poisonous spider. "Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me?! You can't root for the Cubs and the Sox! That's like, it's like rooting for God and Satan. You don't getta be good and evil, kid. You gotta pick one or the other."
Lebron James got a dose of the same medicine last night, when he was seen rooting for the New York Yankees, and thus against the hometown Cleveland Indians. Lebron was even wearing a Yankees hat, and fans started jeering him and chanting "Take of the cap!" One fan even screamed "Go to New York, then" (another fan heard that and said "No, no, please don't"). Today, there are countless stories in the media and across the blogosphere calling James things like "traitor" and "betrayer." The thing is, Lebron's allegience has never been in question; he's a lifelong Yankees fan. So the anti-Lebron uproar is a pretty blatant overreaction. Especially since Lebron isn't really a fan whore, he's more of a bandwagon fan; he's always been a "frontrunner" and therefore footed for the Chicago Bulls, Dallas Cowboys, and Yankees during his teen years.
Frankly, I don't understand the mentality that you can't root for whomever you want. Especially since, logistically speaking, it increases your chances for potential happiness. By rooting for six NBA teams instead of just one, I increase my chances of seeing one of my teams go all the way by 15 percent! (I think; I'm not a mathmologist.) And what if I'd only pulled for the White Sox this year? By rooting for the Cubs and Sox, my baseball-induced misery will ultimately have been postponed almost an entire week. That, my friends, is the sweet smell of success.
Not only did this seven-foot heap of certified beefsteak lose 25 pounds over the summer, he also unveiled a suave, parted-down-the-center haircut with sweeping bangs and a striking, come-hither gaze that could retroactively take your virginity away (so be warned).
Brad Miller Fun Facts: Here's some fun trivia from Brad's Wikipedia entry:
Brad's mother's name is Rosie and his father's name is Maurice.
Brad has three uncles who played college basketball: Jim Heitz University of Oklahoma, Mike Heitz West Virginia University, and Tom Heitz University of Kentucky.
He has a Black Dodge truck with an Indiana license plate.
Brad has a love for the outdoors.
In his spare time, he enjoys hunting, fishing, and ATV riding.
He is also an avid bowhunter; turkey, bear, and deer tags are in his wallet.
Brad looked like this in college:
It's official: The 'band is back.
Scott Skiles has relaxed his "no headband" policy. But only for Ben Wallace. "We still have a no-headband rule. I just left it up to the guys who have been here if they wanted to make an exception for Ben. I was fine with it. They were fine with it."
Bulls' GM John Paxson is a big fan of Skiles' new "One Tolerance" Policy. "I think it takes a coach who is willing to adapt a little bit and listen to his players, understanding the big picture is winning. Scott's one of the best coaches in the league. There's no doubt in my mind. And he's able to adapt."
Now that Skiles has shown the willingness to modify his Draconian policies on a player-by-player basis, several other Bulls have stepped forward with one-shot requests: Andres Nocioni wants to use "men's garters" to keep his socks up, Ben Gordon would like to have his favorite Cabbage Patch doll on the bench during games, Joe Smith wants to be referred to as "Buster Thunderstick" in the team's media guide, Joakim Noah wants to practice Polovetsian dancing during timeouts, JamesOn Curry requested a captial "R" for his last name, and Will Perdue asked for a little playing time. When reminded that he hasn't actually been on the team since '95, Perdue broke down into tears and had to be consoled with hugs and unicorn stickers.
Frankly, I'm glad Big Ben gets to wear his headband again. He didn't look quite right without it. It was like seeing Fonzie without his leather jacket, Britney Spears without some 'ho outfit, or Superman without the little red panties he wears over his blue tights. Good call, Scott.