The King Is Dead

Spoiler Alert: This is exactly how I felt at the end of First Knight.

The procession was led by "a grett company of chylderyn in ther surples" and watched by Londoners "wepyng and lamenting"; the funeral chariot, draped in cloth of gold, was topped by an effigy of Edward, with crown, sceptre, and garter.

~The death of King Edward VI

Depending on whether he were a man of the people or a tyrant, a king's death was met by great sadness or tremendous relief. Nevertheless, his people were undoubtedly affected, and the mood's respective shadow was cast over his kingdom.

I was once a subject under the reign of King James of Akron, and it is with great sadness today that I admit my former divine leader is nothing more than a jester douche, a powerless pauper no longer within the realm of the living. His procession has come and past, and I stayed inside to fashion the crown of Prince Durant.

I was in Chicago with my fiancee on the night of "The Decision". Signs of "LeBron or Bust" were all over the place, and the city was insatiable. They had seen Jordan. They had seen Pippen. Hell, they even saw Corzine. And yet, they were ready and willing for the new dynasty to begin. Every city was. LeBron had (purposefully) dangled his meat for three years in front of every fanbase's eyes, planting a seed in their brains: Maybe even you can be lucky enough to watch me play.

I didn't even watch the entire show. Anna and I went on an architecture boat tour (yep, this is who you read now--deal with it) and rode our bikes through the city. I had to stop, of course, when the announcement was to be made. We parked our bikes and I hopped in a bar just in time for Jim Gray to ask him where he was headed. I wanted him to say Cleveland so bad, and so did the people (from Ohio) sitting next to me. Surely he wouldn't do this to Cleveland on national TV.

Well, obviously we all know what happened next. I shouted an obscenity and got back on my bike, not wanting to watch a second more. The nation's favorite basketball player, in five seconds, became Public Enemy Number One.

LeBron James, in happier times.

So, why am I posting this now, almost three full months after "The Decision" aired? Well, first of all, I quit writing about sports for a while. I had to clear my head, prioritize some things, and, honestly, I just got sick of sports. There's only so many times you can hear about Brett Favre (or people who talk about Brett Favre every day making fun of how much Brett Favre is talked about), LeBron, or Michael Vick until you just think, "You know what, I'm done with it." ESPN is so ridiculous these days, it's almost unfathomable. If I see TMZ for two seconds, I get mad that someone could watch that religiously. Then I remember that's EXACTLY what ESPN goes for these days.

People talk about how obnoxious players like Terrell Owens and Chad Ochocinco are, yet this year's Madden video game (which, for the record and my own personal satisfaction, I have not played) now has a "Swagger" rating, dictating whether or not a player celebrates after a touchdown.

Lockouts are threatening both the NFL and NBA, while the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament (which EVERYONE thinks is perfect the way it is) is changing its format, while the BCS (which NO ONE thinks is perfect the way it is) remains the same. And I've yet to hear one good reason (or for that matter, one person in favor) for the NFL to switch to an 18-game schedule.

If "if ain't broke, don't fix it" is still a relevant phrase, it should really just back away and pretend it doesn't see what is happening in sports in 2010.

Oh, and the other reason I'm talking about LeBron today? He played the race card, saying some of the backlash from his public image meltdown is due to race. Really, LeBron? I'm sure it was, you know, to people who are already racists. For everyone else who bought your professional jerseys, high school jerseys, shoes, T-shirts, tickets, and posted your image on billboards, it was just plain selfish, self-serving, and ego-maniacal. Yes, all three of those words pretty much mean the same thing. That's how disappointed I am.

Related note: Three years ago Kobe Bryant wanted to be The Man on a championship team and people killed him. Now, LeBron wants to play unselfishly on a team with his friends and people kill him. Guess what? It worked for Kobe, and it's probably going to work for LeBron. With that said, LeBron's "Decision" was the best thing that could have happened for Kobe Bryant's legacy.

Congratulations, guys! You won "The Decision"!

So, this is why I make my "sports website" a collection of poop and dick jokes. That's what sports are. Do I love them? Absolutely. Will I always watch them? Of course. Will I go to the Heat-Pacers game, and watch every Miami game on TV? Undoubtedly. That's why sports is a big Chuck-E-Cheese ballpit of fun and hypocrisy. Just keep them in perspective.

With that said, the reign of Durant has begun. Long live The King.

I'm Back, Pt. II

So...

Um, I'm back, right? I mean, that's what I posted. So...

That translates to multiple conversation-starting posts per week, right? Like, the way I used to do it?

Let's see...

Ah, hell. I got nothing.



Sorry you clicked on this today.

Don't Call It A Comeback

The greatest comebacks in sports history:

10. Wes Welker

I hate the Patriots with a passion, but to come back eight months after tearing your ACL and MCL--and score two touchdowns--is no small feat.

Related note: More ACLs are torn by old people in the cafeteria MCL than all other North American restaurants combined.

9. Mike Tyson

Iron Mike spent three years in prison for breaking and entering or theft or rape or something like that, then defeated "Hurricane" Peter McNeeley in the first round.

Related note: McNeeley, according to his Wikipedia page, once punched out a man and stole his wallet containing $200. So Peter McNeeley will have a nice obituary when he dies in two years, anyway.

8. George Foreman

This entire list could have been boxers, but dedicating an entire post to a dying sport is wedged between the XFL and SlamBall on the "Worst Sports Ideas Ever" list. With that said, Foreman won the Heavyweight Title at 45, 20 years after he previously held the belt. Pretty impressive.

Related note: George Foreman has murdered one child every year for the last 37 years.

7. Shawn Michaels

The Heartbreak Kid destroyed his back while I loved wrestling, tormented me with rumored return stories while I loved wrestling, then came back four years later when I couldn't care less about wrestling. Then again, if I was wearing an HBK shirt at Buffalo Wild Wings, weeping at his return, I probably wouldn't be engaged right now. Actually, I'd be dead from a cough syrup-pain killers concoction.

Related note: Bret Hart also came back this year, but he doesn't make the list. Why? Because he crawled back to a man who publicly screwed him over in his home country, had a hand in the death of his brother, and badmouthed his family for years, all because he needed money. Someone should hire a real hitman to mercy-kill Bret Hart.

6. Tiger Woods

Sure, Tiger has sucked since the Masters, but at least his showing at Augusta made for good television. I can't imagine the feeling of having your dirty laundry (and we're talking blood-and-shit stained whites) hung out for everyone in the world to see.

Related note: I love how most people say something along the lines of, "How could he do that? She's so pretty," as if only ugly people should be allowed to be cheated on.

5. Mario Lemieux

Le Magnifique retired due to, oh I don't know, cancer AND chronic back problems, came back three years later, and scored a goal and three points in his return game.

Related note: Super Mario finished in the top three for the Hart Trophy (MVP) that season, along with Gordon Bombay and Wolf "The Dentist" Stansson.

4. Tommy John

Dude permanently hurts his arm, hears some radical batshit doctor lingo about how to fix it, actually goes through with the procedure, and comes back and pitches for 15 more seasons, winning 20 or more games three times.

Unrelated note: My neighbor across the street is a horrible mother, a fantastic drinker, and obnoxiously loud. She's on her front porch 90% of the time, and I'm two weeks away from paying a brutish woman to fight her.

3. Muhammad Ali

Ali was stripped of his Heavyweight Title in 1967 for refusing to serve in the Vietnam War, then won a Supreme Court case, fought Joe Frazier twice, and regained his belt against George Foreman in 1974.

Related note: I missed "The Rumble in the Jungle" by ten years, making up for it in 1995 by seeing Jackie Chan's 1995 hit Rumble in the Bronx in the theater.

2. Michael Jordan

MJ won three titles, retired, then returned to win three more.

Related note: My really, really old great-aunt was dying, and my mom took me to the hospital to see her on the day Jordan came back to play my Pacers. I listened to the game on the radio in the car to the hospital, on the way home, and, yep, even in the room with her. Point of the story? Either Jordan's comeback was a bigger deal than a family member dying or I was a little shit as a kid. Probably the latter.

1. Fake Field Goal Pass 2

It's back...

Things I'd Rather Do...

Than watch NBC's "Last Comic Standing" again...



-Pick burial plots

-Watch my daughter's acceptance speech at the AVN Awards

-Drown

-Be forced to fight another prisoner in Gary Heidnik's dungeon, after weeks of being fed nothing but dog food, and then dog food mixed with human remains

-Create and maintain this website.

-Have the deviated septum in my nose tear back open, only to be cauterized shut again

-Hear the echoing smack of the tray that is my dinner hitting the floor in solitary confinement

-Have whole heads of lettuce thrown at me on my walk to the guillotine

-Walk in on someone being murdered, completely horrified, only for the murderer to put the knife in my hand, jump out the first-floor window, and the police rush in with me standing over the body

-Anything. For the love of God, anything

-Adopt a puppy, then have it immediately taken away from me

-Be tortured by a group of men, yelling at me in a language I don't understand, who have me confused for someone else

-Watch all of Clark Duke's scenes from the movie SEX DRIVE on loop

-Be somehow transported back to a New Orleans bar during Tracey Porter's interception of Peyton Manning that sealed the Saints victory in the Super Bowl

-Be in a scenario where everyone that lived in my town thought this was the most rational way of determining whether or not my existence was justified and I could remain their neighbor

-Burn alive with my family

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?