Entertaining column by Vescey
http://www.nypost.com/sports/20118.htm
SOME RIMSHOTS, PLEASE . . .
May 4, 2004 -- THE E-limo-nator's verdict is the ultimate example of Jay Walking.
Hide your wife and her boyfriend; I hear O. J. Simpson's moving to Somerset County.
Let's try to comprehend the D.A.'s master plan: Withhold crucial evidence but use Benoit Benjamin as your chief prosecution witness; that's great, one corpse testifying about another one.
"Money talks, it don't sing or dance and it can't walk." Neil Diamond may have to alter his lyrics.
Batting third, number eight, Kobe Bryant. Come on, Kobe, baby, keep the rally going.
After Sunday's loss, Kobe addressed the media with Jim Gray on his lap.
Fresh from their neat fourth-quarter double-double (13 points, 10 turnovers), the Lakers deserted the Alamo to go home and regroup for Game 2. To help liven up the trip, Vin Baker hitched a ride on L.A.'s charter and led the team in a stirring rendition of "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall."
The Spurs look so good I'm told Phil Jackson's trying to get interviewed for Gregg Popovich's job.
Pop, by the way, says the only reason Kevin Garnett was named Most Valuable Player is because he had too much class to campaign for Bruce Bowen.
* As it so happens, Ben Wallace's nose also is out of joint (relax, Rashweed, nobody's asking for a specimen, it's just a figure of speech) as a result of Rick Carlisle campaigning for Ron Artest. Funny, I don't recall Big Ben complaining when Carlisle spent countless hours contacting the media on his behalf the past two seasons. Naturally, as is usually the case, there's a hidden agenda behind Wallace's sucker's holler; had he won Defensive Player of the Year he would've pocketed a substantial bonus - $1 million, I'm informed.
Don't know about Jamal Mashburn, but tonight's New Orleans-Miami Game 7 is totally consuming my existence. Can Brian Grant out-nasty and out-trash-talk a horde of Hornets? Can the Heat's bench (supplied a paltry four points in Game 6, all free throws, to 18 by its counterpart) be any more depressed? Can Baron Davis' complementary pieces drain open looks away from home?
By the time it's finally over the Pacers will have had 11 days off and Al Harrington will be only nine credits shy of a college diploma.
Damn, the Pacers didn't have to wait that long to switch leagues.
* The way the T'Wolves, the Off-Target Center and ESPN reacted Friday night, I expected the ghost of Larry O'Brien to show up and cancel the rest of the playoffs. Far be it from me not to give Minny its props after worming its way out of the first round following seven successive failures, but wasn't this a 1-8 matchup with eight facing a summer fling without its best player?
Adding to the "drama" was the obligatory cut-away to Michele Tafoya who droned about the crowd wanting to stay until the very end. "These people," she blathered, "have been here from the beginning. They've seen it all, from Christian Laettner to Isaiah Rider to the death of Malik Sealy."
To her credit, Tafoya did stop short of rehashing those crushing presidential defeats by Hubert Humphrey and Walter Mondale.
* I don't want to suggest Don Nelson is experiencing his final moments in Dallas, but I'm expecting Walter Cronkite to break into regular programming any minute now.
In Ain't We Trust: Danny Rearrainging says he's finished pilfering the parquet. "We're all on the same page," the Futile Lord said after hiring the Celtics Doc Rivers. That's because Rivers was smart enough to get the page signed and notarized. We now have a little better understanding why Doc took the first job offered. ESPN's Jack Ramsay reports Rivers told him he has it in writing that no deals can be made without his authorization.
* ESPN's Mike Breen has lost sight of his job and his place. I'm not saying he talks too much, but Bill Walton is having increasing difficulty contradicting himself in the same sentence. It was easier breaking into the '86 Celtics' starting lineup than Breen's filibuster. His incessant "expert" analysis as the play-by-play man often reduced Knick radio partner John Andariese to irrelevance, and he's managing to out-opinionate Walton as well, frequently leaving him in thin air.
For example, when the camera zeroed in on (LSU/St. Louis Hawks star) Bob Pettit sitting among the New Orleans crowd Sunday, Breen, in all seriousness, asked his partner what kind of player he was. All Walton could do was speak in superlative generalities. "Great leader, scorer, rebounder . . . Top 50 player . . . Hall of Famer . . . blah, blah, blah."
Pettit retired in '65, when the NBA rarely was on TV and Walton was 13, already smoking too many celery stalks.
http://www.nypost.com/sports/20118.htm
SOME RIMSHOTS, PLEASE . . .
May 4, 2004 -- THE E-limo-nator's verdict is the ultimate example of Jay Walking.
Hide your wife and her boyfriend; I hear O. J. Simpson's moving to Somerset County.
Let's try to comprehend the D.A.'s master plan: Withhold crucial evidence but use Benoit Benjamin as your chief prosecution witness; that's great, one corpse testifying about another one.
"Money talks, it don't sing or dance and it can't walk." Neil Diamond may have to alter his lyrics.
Batting third, number eight, Kobe Bryant. Come on, Kobe, baby, keep the rally going.
After Sunday's loss, Kobe addressed the media with Jim Gray on his lap.
Fresh from their neat fourth-quarter double-double (13 points, 10 turnovers), the Lakers deserted the Alamo to go home and regroup for Game 2. To help liven up the trip, Vin Baker hitched a ride on L.A.'s charter and led the team in a stirring rendition of "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall."
The Spurs look so good I'm told Phil Jackson's trying to get interviewed for Gregg Popovich's job.
Pop, by the way, says the only reason Kevin Garnett was named Most Valuable Player is because he had too much class to campaign for Bruce Bowen.
* As it so happens, Ben Wallace's nose also is out of joint (relax, Rashweed, nobody's asking for a specimen, it's just a figure of speech) as a result of Rick Carlisle campaigning for Ron Artest. Funny, I don't recall Big Ben complaining when Carlisle spent countless hours contacting the media on his behalf the past two seasons. Naturally, as is usually the case, there's a hidden agenda behind Wallace's sucker's holler; had he won Defensive Player of the Year he would've pocketed a substantial bonus - $1 million, I'm informed.
Don't know about Jamal Mashburn, but tonight's New Orleans-Miami Game 7 is totally consuming my existence. Can Brian Grant out-nasty and out-trash-talk a horde of Hornets? Can the Heat's bench (supplied a paltry four points in Game 6, all free throws, to 18 by its counterpart) be any more depressed? Can Baron Davis' complementary pieces drain open looks away from home?
By the time it's finally over the Pacers will have had 11 days off and Al Harrington will be only nine credits shy of a college diploma.
Damn, the Pacers didn't have to wait that long to switch leagues.
* The way the T'Wolves, the Off-Target Center and ESPN reacted Friday night, I expected the ghost of Larry O'Brien to show up and cancel the rest of the playoffs. Far be it from me not to give Minny its props after worming its way out of the first round following seven successive failures, but wasn't this a 1-8 matchup with eight facing a summer fling without its best player?
Adding to the "drama" was the obligatory cut-away to Michele Tafoya who droned about the crowd wanting to stay until the very end. "These people," she blathered, "have been here from the beginning. They've seen it all, from Christian Laettner to Isaiah Rider to the death of Malik Sealy."
To her credit, Tafoya did stop short of rehashing those crushing presidential defeats by Hubert Humphrey and Walter Mondale.
* I don't want to suggest Don Nelson is experiencing his final moments in Dallas, but I'm expecting Walter Cronkite to break into regular programming any minute now.
In Ain't We Trust: Danny Rearrainging says he's finished pilfering the parquet. "We're all on the same page," the Futile Lord said after hiring the Celtics Doc Rivers. That's because Rivers was smart enough to get the page signed and notarized. We now have a little better understanding why Doc took the first job offered. ESPN's Jack Ramsay reports Rivers told him he has it in writing that no deals can be made without his authorization.
* ESPN's Mike Breen has lost sight of his job and his place. I'm not saying he talks too much, but Bill Walton is having increasing difficulty contradicting himself in the same sentence. It was easier breaking into the '86 Celtics' starting lineup than Breen's filibuster. His incessant "expert" analysis as the play-by-play man often reduced Knick radio partner John Andariese to irrelevance, and he's managing to out-opinionate Walton as well, frequently leaving him in thin air.
For example, when the camera zeroed in on (LSU/St. Louis Hawks star) Bob Pettit sitting among the New Orleans crowd Sunday, Breen, in all seriousness, asked his partner what kind of player he was. All Walton could do was speak in superlative generalities. "Great leader, scorer, rebounder . . . Top 50 player . . . Hall of Famer . . . blah, blah, blah."
Pettit retired in '65, when the NBA rarely was on TV and Walton was 13, already smoking too many celery stalks.
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