1: In the last two weeks or so, I have developed a violent crush on Michael Beasley.
Seriously, y’all. I got it bad. Everything I learn about the kid makes me like him more, from the “I’m nineteen, what do you want from me” thing to autographing his principle’s car to frightening/angering old white men. Michael, I’ll overlook your character issues any day.
2: I am, as has been addressed at length (mostly by myself, since I always address everything at more length than necessary), a bad basketball fan. Following that mould, and due to intervening circumstances involving things like jobs and manual labor and taking down suspended ceilings, I’ve managed to miss every minute of the Finals. Bad basketball fan. No Finals talk for you. Although, I do apologize for not having Derek Fisher in my last post – I’ve had a semi-crush on him for years, but could not for the life of me find a good picture of him. This picture… is not that picture.
(From Basketbawful. He’s got a funnier bit about it than I ever could, mostly because I’m not a straight dude.)
and 3: Man, that ref thing is a bummer, is it not? I mean, when a basketball story is getting covered at Jezebel, of all places, you know it’s a bad thing. Well, either a good thing, like the Lady Vols kicking ass or something (because they’re Lady Vols, duh), or a very, very bad thing. Whether the entire league is fixed, whether the whole thing is rigged from the top down, I don’t know enough to know. I do know that Sactown’s Finest got royally, no pun intended, fucked in that game, and that Shaq, Kobe and the Los Angeles Lakers got to go win another championship they didn’t need. And now, everyone’s suspicions about that game are semi-confirmed. And everyone – the fans, the league – suffers.
Like we needed more reasons to not root for the Lakers. Thanks, Tim Donaghy! Yet another service rendered for the National Basketball Association.