Monday, February 23, 2009

For Whom The Bell Tolls

By many accounts the NBA is doing better financially. Ratings are up and the league can count on at least 5 powerhouse teams that dominate while still playing entertaining ball.

At the same time, the League continues to carry dead weight. We know the usual suspects, the games you skip watching when your team is on the road visiting them cuz it's too depressing to peep.

The Memphis "Sloe Gin" Grizz, playing in front of 4,000 fans; 3,500 of which are U.Memphis fans too confused from inhaling biscuits slathered in gravy to tell the diff-diff. The other 500 are 3-6 Mafia members.

The L.A. "Sailin Takes Me Away" Clippers, thrilling their bizarre celebrity row of Penny Marshall, Billy Crystal, Malcolm in the Middle and the Sports Guy. That foursome would make for the grossest foursome orgy outside Japan.

Then you have the New Jersey "If Only John Starks Hadn't Broken Kenny Anderson's Wrist" Nets. Is there a better indication of the health of the franchise than peeping the above prices on ZERO DOLLARS FOR A TICKET. Sure, the team currently sits 10th in the East, but they have a young, exciting team of emerging stars such as Brook Lopez and Devin Harris. Plus, Vince Carter sometimes pauses from launching jumpers to drop a nasty yam on an unsuspecting fool.


The worst part is the Nets had a chance to instantly leap from the League's most moribund to Str8 Baller status by moving to Bucktown, U.S.A. Brooklyn loves its ball. A borough that would be the fourth-largest city in the country were it independent. A location near NINE subway lines, right above the Long Island Rail Road, near the BQE, near three bridges, within walking distance of downtown Brooklyn's offices and within walking distance of several upper-middle class neighborhoods.

But now, the Brooklyn deal is all but dead. Whispers abound that owner Bruce Ratner is bankrupt. Meanwhile, there are three new stadiums in the New York area that are almost done, the new Yankee Stadium, the new Mets stadium, and the new Giants Stadium. None of the three were really necessary. All those teams draw huge crowds and clock more cheese than Chuck e. The one that was necessary, in Brooklyn, is the one not getting done.

As an alternative, the Nets could go to Newark. But the Jersey market has never supported the Nets. For example, we are approaching the 20th anniversary of the McDonald's Family Pack, a package that failed to entice despite offering 4 Nets tickets, 4 McD's extra value meals and a disposable camera for $40. Still, it sure beats staying in the swamp. Driving out there in after-work traffic is more depressing than Drazen. The bus from Port Authority wasn't a bad deal, but that's gone, replaced by a two-train dance that requires a transfer in a place that sounds like a public access Sesame Street knockoff - "Secaucus Junction."

If there's one thing we've learned about the success of sports franchises, (football excluded because football is in its own class), is that teams do better located in the heart of cities rather than in the 'burbs. Same reason why bars and restaurants do better in cities. In the burbs people just want to survive the traffic and get to their nice homes to relax. In cities, at night, people will use any excuse, including attending regular season hoops, to escape the hovels they call their apartments.


Friday, February 20, 2009

Opening the Schtee Vault # 1

Only in New York could a story about ballplayers giving each other haircuts in the clubhouse ignite a firestorm worse than, well, Super-Friend Firestorm.

So, like Cam'ron, come with me back to the Mets of 2003, languishing in last place, rudderless under the leadership of the walking dead Art Howe. It was early May of that year when news broke that Harmando Boonitez, whose steely, confident gaze graces the banner of this very blog above, gave shortstop Rey Sanchez a haircut during a game.


Reaction was swift. Unquestioned clubhouse leader, Mo Vaughn, plumbed the depths of his dome to offer, "Rey knows the rights and wrongs, but we're not going to make a big issue of that as a team. We've got too many other things to worry about."

Like the lack of butterscotch syrup in the clubhouse to douse his post-game sundae with! HI-YO!

Potential Hall-of Fame GM Steve Phillips, in perhaps the best summation of his ruinous reign, offered, "I don't get embarrassed about anything anymore.

In hindsight, that was likely the truest thing Phillips ever said. After all, those fake ESPN press conferences were he impersonated various baseball GMs still awaited him in the future.

- - -

Peep for more classic NY Post offerings in the future as I take full advantage of developments in scanner technology.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Recession Blues

It is sometimes said that art only truly soars when mankind suffers. Has Jim Jones, P.O.M.E., borne this out? With our country sliding towards depression, Dip-Set's erstwhile consigliere has let loose a nation's frustration with his Recessionary Blues infused remix of Kid Cudi's "Day N Nite."



Byrd Gang.

Balls in your court, Killa.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Wait, What About.....THIS????

"Hey....hey, you ever have a meatball sandwich?"
"Ummm, yeah?"
"Well, shoot, you ever have a meatball sandwich while getting your ol' hangdown tugged by the Philly Phanatic?"

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

Tha G Code

Is it bothersome that the New York Giants and Jets play in East Rutherford, New Jersey. A tad. Despite only a river running through us, there is a psychological barrier that makes Jersey seem impossibly far away. As way of example, I'd rather make the hour+ trek to Coney Island for the Cyclones than go out to the Meadowlands.

Does it make the Giants' "ny" logo any less awesome? No. But, for shits and giggles, here's G-Men helmet for all the Goddz of the Earf.

Tuesday, February 03, 2009

My Canyon of Heroes

Consume or Die

inspired by a Grrrrrrrreat game, america leaped out of bed this morning, tossed back a diet pepsi max,, took a look ahround, put on its elastic-lined pleated j.c. penny jeans one leg at a time, and skedaddled off in that guldarned-leased-Explorer to Denny's for a Grand Slamer. Abso-friggin-lutely necessary. Big fuel. For a Big Day. IHOP is for babies.

The lights of our nation's Wal-Marts flicker to life, illuminating miles of ailes of bahgans. KFC's deep fryers hum with anticipation, ready to melt those 11 secret herbs and spices into the crust enveloping that juicy all-white (alllll-right) breast meat. Millions of dull-eyed office drones in 2007's striped shirts boot up their 2006 Dells, determined to use this first fantasy-football free day to hunker-bunker down, yessir, no distractions, no procrastinating. Real work to be done, dump that data into Excel, revel in the number-crunch, eye-drop those bleary eyeballs, ergonomically adjust our wrists, Seamless Web our din-din.

Determined, like Santonio Holmes to brush all ten toes upon turf, to roll up our sleeves and lick this darned recession of ours. Why, shoot, if our F-150's can have an 1800-3050 pound maximum payload, we can sure as sam-heck change the oil and rotate the tires on the economy!

And as we settle into our beds tonite, from the lighthouses of Maine to the raging surf of San Diego to the Eurotrashed shores of South Beach, to the asshole banker yuppies 2.0 of FiDi to the churning waters of Pugent Sound to the Massive Massives of the Midway to the panty-droppin varsity blues of windswept West Texas, to the Testaverde-Pining Paisans waddling through the stripped malls betwixt the Sound and the Atlantic, bellies full of Hot Pockets and Sierra Mist Lite, let us be lullabied to sleep with the soothing words written by some who-cares from, like, a long time ago, but so lovingly hip-hopped by our generation's defining poet/troubadour, Will.i.Am;

May God bless and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous,
Stand upright and be strong,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young,
Forever young, forever young,
May you stay forever young.

Amen. And Spend.