Eva Longoria and Trophy at Cannes

How much you want to bet that David Stern got a hard on when he saw this picture?? No, no, not because of Eva...but because she's wearing NBA-licensed apparel while promoting the game overseas. She's like the short, slutty, Mexican Yao Ming.

Charles Barkley on Real Time with Bill Maher

Sir Charles was doing his thang, promoting his tome "Who's Afraid of a Large Black Man" on HBO's Real Time with Bill Maher. Bill asked him about raising a biracial child, to which the one and only Chuckster responded, "There's some crazy black people, and I watch 'Jerry Springer' so I know there's some crazy white people. I just tell my daughter that she got the best of both worlds and I just want her to be a good person." Awww.

Mama (Sheed) Wallace

The first time I saw Ann Iverson, I thought "Yeah, okay, I see where he gets it from." (He = AI = Allen Iverson, dumbass) (Dumbass = You who could not connect the dots from Ann Iverson to Allen Iverson, and you who thought dumbass could possibly be referring to anyone other than yourself) She was tough, scrappy, and had enough bling around her neck to rival the GDP of a small island nation (like Montserrat - $29mil), but you could tell how much she cared about her son...and if you not, you obviously didn't read the sign.


Likewise, when I saw Steve Nash's ma and pa, I thought, "Yeah, okay, I see where he gets it from."

So what must the woman who begat the 3-time league leader in technical fouls be like?

Answer: A force to be reckoned with.


The first time I saw Jackie Wallace was during playoffs last year. She was standing outside the Palace doing a little song and dance taunting the Lakers. Ever since, I've been hoping for some more Jackie Wallace sightings this year. Answer: pistons.com. Mama Wallace makes her picks, daring to pick Seattle over San Antonio and Dallas over Phoenix. Reasons? "Allen has an all-around game" and "Not a fan of Phoenix."

Brash, bold, and opinionated, keep an eye out for Mama Wallace. She's great. Let's hope Sheed gave her a championship belt too.

The 3rd Wallace.

Indy vs. Boston, or Why I Spent the Next 12 Hours Hugging the Toilet

For me and everyone living outside of D.C. and Chicago, the most exciting series hands down is/was Houston-Dallas. I couldn't have been more pumped before yesterday's game. The boys and I went to Costco and picked up a 1.75L bottle of Grey Goose, a 36 pack of MGD, some Red Bull and some tonic. We were ready and waiting for T-Mac and Dirk, Avery and Jeff (By the way, how entertaining have those two been? The two most irascible, defensive-minded coaches this side of Pop and Larry Brown). A pair of Game 7's, baby. Couldn't wait.

So what do we get instead?? Indy vs. Boston, a game so mind-numbingly dull that I thought time had stopped (actually it was just Jamaal Tinsley bringing the ball up). Don't get me wrong, Rick Carlisle was a fucking genius slowing the game down to the point of no return like he did, calling a time out every time Boston scored, but I needed like 5 drinks and half a liter of vodka just to get through the game. And of course all I had eaten that day were french fries so by the time the Dallas game rolled around, so was I...on the floor.


Funny - I had that same expression watching the game.

I got through the first half and then spent the next 12 hours alternately hunched over the toilet (which for me, being the biggest germophobe, is just another reason to throw up) and dry heaving into the trash can by the bed. At 4am, after my Steve Nash epiphany (more on that later), I finally decided I needed to get something in my stomach. I went to get the only thing tolerable when you're hung over - an Egg McMuffin - except that the McDonald's Nazi refused to serve breakfast until 5am. Can you believe that shit?? I explained the situation very patiently to her (starting from Game 1 when Houston beat Dallas up to Indy-Boston and the cause of my predicament) but the bitch wouldn't budge. Either that or she had no idea what I was talking about because I'm 99.9% sure now that she didn't speak a word of English. Anyway, to make a long story not as long, I ended up getting a Happy Meal, eating half the burger, then throwing it up -- all this before brunch with my Grandma and the rest of my family. And how was your Mother's Day?

Lakers vs Heat, Part II

Who says Brian Grant doesn't earn his $13,233,434 salary. Look at him coming off the bench and sticking his nose right in the middle of the action.

As entertaining as it was watching grown men analyze a handshake the way Carson Kressley analyzes a pink blouse, the highlight of the night - pretty much all the highlights of the night - came from D. Wade. The way he called out La Prima Donna and the refs before he headed in the locker room at halftime, but more importantly, the way he stepped up his game during the second half, shooting a hell of a lot better than 1 for 11. D.Wade even has LA writers' panties in a twist.

Mark Heisler of the LA Times writes:
"What time machine did this guy step out of? Here's what Miami's Dwyane Wade doesn't do after he dunks: scream; swing on the rim; pound his chest; pull back his jersey to show his heart; glare at anyone who dared to come near him while he was doing it; or point at the sky. This is a 23-year-old second-year player who gets to the basket at will, dunks over whoever's there and then runs back the other way. As he says, 'I want to act like I did it before.'"

You can't blame Mark Heisler or anyone else in LA for being excited. After years of having to endure Kobe, I can't describe how gratifying it is to see him get his comeuppance - and get SPANKED along the way! Sorry if my posts lately have been a D.Wade parade, but what can I say, he's hot. And I'd rather not mention the Oakland massacre, or Kings vs. Warriors. Jesus H. Christ.

The Big Aristotle Strikes Again

Two things you can count on Miami games for:

1. Randy Moss sightings (How cute does he look in his braces?? Okay, yeah, we'll discuss how I'm always attracted to the wrong guy in another post.)

2. The most "quotatious" quotes in the league.

This one comes from Shaq Daddy and shows he's evolved into a thinker of Maureen Dowd-ian proportions. Asked about the difference between Penny Hardaway, Kobe Bryant, and Dwyane Wade in the New York Post:
"The difference between those three is in 'The Godfather' trilogy. One is Fredo, who's never ready for me to hand it over to him. One is Sonny, who will do whatever it takes to be the man. And one is Michael, who, if you watch the trilogy, the Godfather hands it over to Michael. So I have no problem handing it to Dwyane."

Lebron James may have Nike, Sprite, SI, and Bubblicious, but Dwyane Wade's getting the biggest endorsement of all AND a trip to the Finals. Plus comparing him to Michael Corleone, aka Al Pacino, aka Scarface = INSTA street cred (something the Golden Boy formerly known as Kobe Bryant exponentially lacked). I mean have you seen an episode of Cribs??? Who doesn't have Tony Montana on his wall? (Answer: white people.)

Flash Corleone, the keys to the kingdom are yours for the taking. Now don't go around rapin' nobody. Allegedly.

NYC Flash'd

"Life's not measured by the number of breaths one takes, but by the moments that take your breath away."
-Pat Riley on watching Dwyane Wade play

Still the standard of coaching elegance and eloquence after all these years (though Pop's giving him a run for his money).

But my favorite quote from Miami's brain trust comes from the much less refined but equally irrepressible Stan Van Gundy. After the famous Van Gundy temper exploded following a Shandon Anderson turnover in a game against San Antonio, assistant Erik Spoelstra (the young one) wrote SVG a note saying, "You were an absolute lunatic last night."

SVG's response: "I'm like 40 pounds overweight. I have high cholesterol. I could check out at any time, and he's throwing away an outlet pass."

Oh Stan. He's gaining on his brother for my 3rd favorite coach spot.

Sports' True Mad Genius (And It Ain't Bill Belichick)

The only modern coaches I can think of given the label of "genius" are Bill Belichick and Phil Jackson. And of those two, one of them was left mumbling "serenity now, serenity now" in the Indian Ocean, thereby leaving Bill Belichick standing alone in the pantheon of coaching genius. However, Belichick has been just been dethroned by a man who gives new meaning to the word "unflappable."

It's not always what you do that defines your legacy but what you cause other people to do (case in point, the anti-mastermind John Chaney). Belichick may have caused some long faces - insert Peyton Manning joke here - but it takes a true genius, an unparalleled master of gamesmanship to reduce a man worth an estimated half a billion dollars to flapping his arms like a chicken and screaming "Varsity! Varsity!" like some crazy homeless man who pees on himself.

Enter the one, the only Gregg Popovich.

And the man who you'll next see trying to wash your windshield as you get on the freeway, Mr. Robert Sarver .

For those who don't know what happened or didn't get to read my post before Blogger erased it (argh!) , Sarver (the poor man's Jerry Colangelo and the Suns' new San Diego-based owner) was so agitated that Pop decided not to play Tim Duncan and Manu Ginobili in the last Spurs-Suns meeting of the season that he stood courtside flapping like a chicken and yelling "Varsity! Varsity! Varsity!" It was even funnier considering the Suns barely beat an apparently J.V. starting lineup of Tony Parker, Bruce Bowen, Rasho Nesterovic, Robert Horry, and Brent Barry.

Pop's response: "In life, a lot of questions don't get answered for us. I still don't know where Jimmy Hoffa is buried. I don't know who `Deep Throat' was in Watergate. But now I know who was under the `San Diego Chicken' outfit all of those years."

Genius. Pure genius.

PS. If the San Antonio fans are anything like their Dallas counterparts, they'll have shirts made up the next time the Suns come to town saying "Thanks for the practice" or "Suns: Not yet ready for Varsity." I'd love to see the Coyote hand Sarver a chicken suit and flap his arms until he put it on. I love this game.

IMDB Allen Iverson

Have you ever IMDB'd AI? Trademark: Skipping practice. Dang, you say one thing and you're labelled for life. At least he's cute.

He even makes the headbop look cool. Eat your heart out, Q!

In Defense of C-Webb

Since the trade, one of the things I keep hearing about Chris Webber is how he never takes the last shot. Tony Kornheiser mentioned it on PTI and Skip Bayless referred to it as one of C-Webb's "loser intangibles." Clearly neither man has watched a Kings game this season or read my blog. (Assholes!) If anything, I thought C-Webb was taking too many last minute shots, meaning HE'S WILLING TO TAKE THE LAST SHOT! For the love of God, you'd think Stat Boy would have mentioned Game 7 vs. Minnesota last year, or the Milwaukee game Dec. 14th, or the Blazers game Jan. 18th, or my personal favorite, the Rockets game on Jan. 28th. That was the game where Bibby inbounded the ball and Chris faked the pass back to him then made the game-tying shot that forced overtime. It was beautiful...Of course if would have been even better if the Kings had actually won that game, but let's not quibble over spilt milk.

Anyway, I know C-Webb and his peg leg have faults aplenty. But give the man his due. If you're going to fault him, find something tangible.