Some bad stuff but the feeling won't last
Look at it this way:
There’s another game tonight!
Yes, that was Andrea’s worst game of the year by far. Listless, couldn’t make a shot, far too slow at both ends.
But you kind of knew early.
First quarter, first couple of possessions and they tried to get Bargnani in the post but it looked like he wanted none of it. He started his move too far from the basket – pushed out there by far from the most physical defenders in the game – and made a couple of half-hearted efforts to get into the paint, settling for little fadeway jump hooks about midway up the lane.
No, not good enough at all.
What’s that I see?
I’m sitting there watching the second half unfold – and it almost caused my retinas to burn – and first I see Marcus Banks on the floor, then I see Banks and Jose on the floor at the same time and then I see Jose and Jarrett on the floor at the same time and I’m thinking, “quick, rub your eyes, they’re deceiving you.”
Not sure what Jay was up to except trying to find some kind of magical combination that would provide a spark but it didn’t work.
And I don’t know that we’ll ever see it again; nor do I think we should. It’s too small a backcourt, at least one guy’s playing out of position and there are other off-guards who probably need the minutes.
As one-time experiment, maybe it was worth it. Long-term? Don’t think so.
Who is this guy?
In his first two seasons in the NBA, Sonny Weems attempted 18 three-pointers (11 last season) and made, um, two.
So far this season, he’s attempted 11 and I’m wondering if he’s channeling some inner Dell Curry or something.
Now, I’m all for a guy extending his range and he has made four of six in the last three games but Sonny’s strength has to be mid-range and attacking the basket and to watch him take two threes in the first half last while not getting to the free throw line one single time in the entire game is a bit much.
And now …
Okay, forget it.
The Clippers and I are through.
Yes, they were my surprise darlings before the season began, now they’re 1-10, stinking the joint out on a nightly basis and I’m done with ‘em.
I blame Donald Sterling.
Lots of links.
Here’s Washington’s from last night.
Here’s Philly’s for tonight.
Speaking of Philly …
Big O’s ticker trouble
It’s at the very end of The Drinking To Forget Tour – a raucous four-game road trip right near the end of the 16-66 season that I’m sure I’ve recounted before – and we’re in the coaches locker room before the game talking to Butch.
There’s a ruckus in the hallway, Oliver Miller’s been complaining about his chest, and there he goes, wheeled on a stretcher. Now, recall, this is one game after he’s served a one-game suspension for hamming up with The Chicken in Atlanta during a timeout in a one-sided loss and there’s not a lot of goodwill betwixt O and the team and there are suspicions that he’s perhaps not quite as ill as they are being led to believe.
Anyway, The One And Only Phil Jasner doesn’t know the backstory and tries to assure the collected brass that they have great heart institutes in the city and O will get great care.
Says one of the Raptor poobahs, who shall go nameless:
“Tell ‘em if they find one to take it out."
Payday? Close but not quite
It’s the Saturday night before Game 7 in 2001 and the ongoing fued between Oak and Tyrone Hill has been a running story all year, Ty owed Oak an obscene amount of money and Oak wanted it.
Well, the story goes that Ty showed up at the team hotel with a brown paper bag filled with cash, many tens of thousands of dollars, to pay off his debt.
Oak, that okay with you? Is it over now?
“Don’t see no interest; ain’t over yet.”
Or words to that effect.
Man, I miss Oak.
A lost opportunity
Same 16-66 year, darkest season of beat coverage I’ve ever had in any sport at any paper, and one of my lasting regrets. The start the season, it was 1997-98, with two straight losses which is no big deal and then win their third game, a stellar triumph over Golden State and then – get this! – rattle off 17 straight losses.
And yours truly had the honour and privilege of covering every single one of those 17 and if you don’t think that taxed my creative abilities, let me tell you it did. You walk into a locker room a dozen games into a streak like that, knowing you’ve got nothing to ask and they’ve got nothing to say and get 650 good words out of it.
So, where’s Philly fit into this?
Well, it was Dec. 10, 1997 when the streak came to a merciful end.
In Philly. Walt Williams went off for 39, Damon had 14 assists and it was like the weight of the world was lifted.
How’d I feel? Ticked.
I was home, watching on TV while old colleague M. Harding took the trip.
That’s right, I lived through 17 straight losses and missed the win.
Sarah’s little girl survives and Brandy, who was perfect on Monday, gets bounced? I blame the Tea Party.
I swear, I was sitting in a local yesterday afternoon waiting to swap stories with Griff after being in the office and one of the TVs had on a replay of an old Raptors-Wizards game from a couple of years ago.
I look up and there’s the original Legend – Pops! – throwing down a vicious dunk and all I can think of is:
“Don’t check the e-mail, someone was watching and will want him back.”
You know what?
I kind of missed that In-Game Bloggy Thingy, too.
And because a few of you were nice enough to write yesterday suggesting it’s okay to do it from the comfort of home, or perhaps some day the comfort of a lounge, we’ll bring it back for the rest of year, regardless of where I am. A bit more work but it’s fun, actually. A kind of nice sense of community has developed or something.
That’s after tonight, though. Have plans that can’t be changed.
Okay, some lucky group of high school students out in Scarborough will get the time of their lives this morning (yes, speaking engagements are another part of the gig) but that means I’m away from here for a few hours.
Can’t wait to get back and read the angst.