This here is a portrait of no one's main man Trent "I'll Shoot You In Your Mutherfuckin' Face" Tucker.* The walking, stalking definition of "quiet as kept." He'd chill, cop not quite a mill, then, when you least expect, he'd drop a gem on you If Chuck Person was the "Rifleman," then Trent was the "M.F.'n-Mack-10-Man," str8 spraying your shizzy up. The NBA had to change its rules because of the man, and, in keeping with David "Peep the Union I'll Burn, Strokin my beard while my dredyl steady turns" Stern's M.O., no trace of Trent Tucker video highlights may be found.
This season starts in Trent Tucker's spirit. It has come out of nowhere, with no fanfare save a Sports Guy preview not up to his usual caliber, tho he can be forgiven due to his mammoth and eagerly anticipated basketball bible coming out. Much like its sister, the NHL, the baskets campaign is far too long. And by sisters, I mean like the difference between Kim and Khloe Kardashian.
The 1999 50-game season is much-maligned, particularly by the aforementioned Sports Guy. But it was perfect. This time around, the season starts a little sooner than its traditional Halloween start, and for once, I'm glad. Half-speed who-cares October hoops will provide a welcome distraction from the inevitable Yankee onslaught. Plus, no more dreary eastern conference hoops for my tanned ass, strictly exotic west-coast-is-the-best-coast action. I will miss the free 'za and random Smadbeck bros. sightings at Standings during hoops season. In my memories its always pouring buckets outside and I always stop at one slice.
In closing, may we all face life's challenges as hungrily as Rick "The Need for Feed" Mahorn.
*Nickname coined by NedStarr