NBA Finals LXIV

Who says the NFL gets to monopolize the regal Roman numeral system for their championships? Let's break down the twelfth meeting of the Boston Celtics and Los Angeles/Minneapolis Lakers in half-assed, "felt a vacation was appropriate after taking Jeff Foster down a rung" fashion.

If the Lakers win, it will be the sixteenth title in franchise history. If that fucking green, winking crutch-walker wins, it will be number eighteen. If the Pacers win the next fifteen years in a row, the last one would be number fifteen. The NBA: Where Dreams of Mediocrity and Semi-Relevance Become Night Terrors of Despair, Relocation, and Crippling Alcoholism Happens.

STARTING POINT GUARDS

Rajon Rondo vs. Derek Fisher

Hey, I've got an idea that is going to turn 24/7 sports coverage on its head. Let's freak out and overreact anytime a player has a good game or series. Who's with me?

Yes, Rajon Rondo is an absolutely terrific point guard, and playing out of his mind in these playoffs, but just because he has a fantastic series against the defense of Mo Williams and coaching of Mike Brown doesn't mean I'm ready to fly the BEST POINT GUARD IN THE LEAGUE flag just yet. Everybody matches up differently, and although Boston tossed Orlando aside like a prisoner's salad, Jameer Nelson held his own against Rondo, even controlling the tempo in some of those games.

I think Chris Paul deserves a healthy season with, oh I don't know, maybe even one decent teammate before we shovel the dirt on his grave and give the eulogy. And actually...

While we're at it, wasn't every Laker matchup so far supposed to wilt and crumble to opposing point guard play? It was murderer's row: Russell Westbrook in the first round, Deron Williams in the second, Steve Nash the third, and now Rondo. Is Skip Bayless going to proclaim Derek Fisher the best point guard in the NBA if the Lakers win? That's what we do now, right?

HOW THIS WOULD PLAY OUT IN JUST WRIGHT

Common (as Derek Fisher) would feel over his head against the much younger, more physically gifted Rondo. While grabbing his knees, sucking for air, and contemplating retirement after a foolish last-ditch hip-check foul, he would scan the crowd and find Queen Latifah. Although no words are spoken, Common finds the strength from her motivational head nod to fight back, never give up, and grab the rebound for an assist in transition.

STARTING SHOOTING GUARDS

Ray Allen vs. Kobe Bryant

Both of these guys are playing out of their minds right now, but Kobe's out of his mind game is better than anyone else on the planet's. His remarkable series against the Suns almost made me forget that his "I want this to be my new trademark" lower jaw thing coupled with LA's incessant MVP chants are leading me to a life of unspeakable crime and bloodshed.

Ray Ray is a class act, and solidifying his case as more than just a fringe Hall of Famer, but the man who bets against Kobe Bean Bryant is the man who goes home to his wife like Billy Hoyle in WHITE MEN CAN'T JUMP after Sidney and the guy from SLAM DUNK ERNEST hustle him.

HOW THIS WOULD PLAY OUT IN JUST WRIGHT

Common (as Kobe) steps up to the free throw line as the chorus of "MVP! MVP! MVP! MVP!" rains down from the Staples faithful. After another masterful performance leading to a Laker victory, he is interviewed by Doris Burke, and is met by Queen Latifah as he walks off the court. "We did it!" she says, and goes in for the hug. "Who's the fat bitch?" he laughs to Jordan Farmar, while heading towards the winner's locker room.

STARTING SMALL FORWARDS

Paul Pierce vs. Ron Artest

The most intriguing matchup of the Finals:

HOW THIS WOULD PLAY OUT IN JUST WRIGHT

Common (as Paul Pierce) just can't find his shot against the stifling defense of Artest. After missing nine of his first thirteen shots and committing four turnovers, Common must either adjust his game by driving for fouls or setting up teammates with his passing. Then, as an angel in the night, Queen Latifah yells, "You're rushing it! Let the game come to you!" from the stands, drawing many stares from the affluent white patrons around her. Common proceeds to make his next five baskets, including a three-pointer as time expires, and confetti falls around the necking lovers. The Larry O'Brien trophy AND Queen Latifah's vagina? Sounds like a good day to me.

STARTING POWER FORWARDS

Kevin Garnett vs. Pau Gasol

Ah, the epic battle of Guy I Used to Really Love Who I Almost Can't Fucking Stand Now and Would Not Publicly Defend (KG) against Guy I Never Fucking Liked and Never Will (Gasol). It's as if Conor Oberst was in a bar fight with Chris Daughtry, only if Oberst annoyingly psyched himself up and said "fuck" a thousand times a concert.

HOW THIS WOULD PLAY OUT IN JUST WRIGHT

Common (as Pau Gasol) is getting absolutely owned on the defensive end. Whether it's not getting out to KG's fifteen foot jump shots, not boxing out, or falling for head fakes, it's a pretty rough day. Then, as KG rocks his back into Common's chest while backing him down in the post, the rapper remembers his rehabilitation sessions with Queen Latifah, and how hard he worked to get back to this moment. He recalls the medicine ball, the stairs, and the seemingly insurmountable odds against him. While thinking of this, KG effortlessly pivots around him for an easy layup, tearing Common's ACL, MCL, and PCL in the process.

STARTING CENTERS

Kendrick Perkins vs. Andrew Bynum

If KG against Pau is Oberst against Daughtry, this matchup is, I don't know, Jay Leno against Chris Daughtry? Sarah Palin against Chris Daughtry? Chris Daughtry against Chris Daughtry? If you just imagined two Chris Daughtrys on the Street Fighter II fighter selection screen, with Player 2's Chris Daughtry wearing an inverted colored Hot Topic outfit and bracelet selection, my description worked perfectly.

HOW THIS WOULD PLAY OUT IN JUST WRIGHT

Common and Queen Latifah are motionless and bloodied for an hour and forty minutes. Think Antietam.

THE BENCH

Rasheed Wallace, Tony Allen, Big Baby Davis, and Nate Robinson vs. Lamar Odom, Jordan Farmar, Shannon Brown, and Sasha Vujacic

THE FAR SIDE OF THE BENCH

Shelden Williams, Marquis Daniels, Brian Scalabrine, and Michael Finley vs. Adam Morrison, Luke Walton, DJ Mbenga, and Josh Powell

Every single name you just read is on a professional basketball team, at the highest level, and making at least the NBA minimum of $458,000. Most of them make much, much more than that. You may start feeling like shit...now.

COACHING

Doc Rivers vs. Phil Jackson

Irrelevant, apparently.

THE VERDICT

I'm torn like a Civil War mother with sons on both sides. You know, if that mother had wished for a third party to come and impale both sons with a bayonet. Lakers in seven.

The Worthless Legends Series

Sure, we all know the legendary good performances of sports yore: Oscar Robertson's 30.8 points, 12.5 rebounds, and 11.4 assists per game in the 1961-62 NBA season; Ted Williams's .406 AVG, 37 HR, and 120 RBI in 1941; Eldrick's "Tiger Slam" in 2000-01.

Ho hum, right? You've got ESPN Classic for that mundane nonsense. That's not why you came here today. Those eye-popping numbers of athletic accomplishment are the mashed potatoes, but we Americans like gravy.

That is why FFGP2 is introducing THE WORTHLESS LEGENDS SERIES. These maverick titans see success, a financially-stretched and downtrodden public of out-of-work educators and overqualified college graduates, and public appearances without shame and say, "I DON'T GIVE A SHIT".

Therefore, they shall...nay...MUST be saluted.

Today's recipient of the WORTHLESS LEGENDS SERIES Courage Award goes to:

Indiana Pacers center Jeff Foster

Jeff may stand tall at 6'11", but his on court résumé was short enough in the 2009-10 NBA season to justify waiving the mandatory five year waiting period necessary (for mortals) to join this magnificent pantheon of lore.

Jeff saw the season's schedule ahead of time and boldly proclaimed, "Eighty-two games, huh? Maybe for a well-conditioned athlete with a functioning back. Pencil me in for sixteen. Just you watch. And in two of those, I tell you what, I'm going to play less than four minutes."

He succeeded. Oh, and how.

Mr. Foster scored 49 points...total, for a stellar average of 3.1 per game. Not that much, you say? That's because Jeff perfects the dirty deeds, accumulating the "hustle points" that coaches only dream about in today's prima donna rich NBA, such as standing up after time-outs to clap while wearing a suit, or joking around with the other white players at the end of the bench.

And hogging the team masseuse and therapeutic hot tub from aching players who actually see minutes in the games? You can't teach that.

On top of it all, Jeff Foster does not "play" for free. Oh Lord, no. He was paid, and handsomely. Mr. Foster pocketed a cool $6,077,500 for his, um, services last season. Yes, you read that correctly.

Jeff Foster's ailing back kept him from commenting on this heroic achievement, but a spokesperson close to the situation had this to say regarding the honor:

"I hope the tens of dozens of Indiana Pacers fans really took the time to appreciate the treat they were receiving this season when Jeff Foster stepped onto the court. What community wouldn't want a player who averaged $124,030.61 for every point scored, or $75,030.86 per rebound? I mean, come on Pacer Nation, sometimes all you can do is tip your hat to a man who got paid $276,250 for every shot he made.

"I mean, Christ," he added,"the team went 3-13 in the sixteen games Jeff participated in. You do the math. That's $2,025,833.30 per win. Can someone say bargain?"

This lone dribble made Jeff Foster more money than you'll see all year, you fucking loser.

Don't Worry, Mike. I Got It

(Click to enlarge)

Anderson Varejao is very good at delivering résumés. Naturally, Mike Brown will have either Zydrunas Ilgauskas or Shaquille O'Neal deliver it to you.

What can Brown do for you?

Avoid This Like The Plague, Cubs Fans

Behold! My trip to Wrigley Field!

I decided to take a photograph of the one spot in the stadium I was sure nothing of significance ever happened. I think I found it:


Which brings us to...

WHICH IS THE MOST PAINFUL WRIGLEY FIELD/STADIUM VIDEO?



or is it...

The latter. Good Christ, it's the latter.

TODAY'S PATHETIC LOSER

There's nothing quite like the transformation from mild-mannered human being into humiliating example of what not to become in front of a school bus full of children. Congratulations, you pathetic fucking loser.

Ah, it feels great to half-ass this again.

Battle of Depressing Hindsight

Get over it sound bite Al Davis sound bites

VS.

So who "wins"? Well, Al lost $36 million while peeling off yet another layer of shame.

LT, on the other hand? The police found a used condom in his hotel room from an alleged raping of a 16-year old prostitute in a Holiday Inn. Maybe the weirdest part? Her pimp beat the shit out of her BEFORE taking her to Taylor's room, Taylor had to have seen the beating, and STILL decided, "Yeah, I'm going to have sex with this beat up 16-year old prostitute. That'll be a good decision."

LT...you lose, pal.

Get In The Car And Drive To The Country With Me...

A wise man once said, "You won't find two shits between Indianapolis and Bloomington."

I beg to differ...

Yes! I'm the first one in line for Walt's Crawlers Live Bait Shop's ice cream! After all, IT'S BACK! What child (or adult, for that matter!) could resist a delicious frozen treat surrounded by enslaved, living fish lure in the summer!

Somewhere, this conversation is taking place:

BOY
Hey, Dad? Do you think we can get ice cream today? After all, I hit the game-winning double in today's 99 degree baseball game.

DAD
Gee, son. I'd love to, but Marty and I are going fishing this weekend, and I really need some bait.

BOY
Just any kind of bait?

DAD
No. Particularly live bait.

MOM
Well how about Walt's?

BOY and DAD
Walt's?

MOM
Sure! Walt's specializes in all your live bait and frozen dairy product needs, combined with a convenient gas station location!

DAD
Well Jesus Christ, son! Get in the car! We're going to Walt's!

I scream! You scream! They literally scream for ice cream!

NAME GAMES

Oh, and Mr. Downey? I'm sorry/you're welcome if your server crashes today due to an onslaught of visitors to your web site. Just repay me with something cushy.