McDyess

A quick post (and maybe incentive to return to writing):

If Antonio McDyess goes (and I won't weigh in on whether or not he should, as, clearly, that decision is entirely up to him), I hope -- perhaps for irrational reasons -- that he goes to San Antonio.

That's all.

(But, McDyess: if you're debating: stay. We don't deserve you, or your effort, but stay. Please).

Pistons vs. Smallball

And so, yes, the Pistons lost to Charlotte. And Indiana.

And, yes, the team seems lost, particularly during the fourth quarter of any given game (Denver being an exception).

And, yes, now that Hamilton is back, Curry seems relatively determined to pursue this "smallball" thing further than seems healthy.

And, no, the last two losses cannot be blamed entirely on running a three-guard, Tayshaun-at-power-forward (!) offense.

But still.

So, here's something for anyone out there with either (1) a passing interest in the Pistons or (2) a passing interest in literature. And additional kudos (and Kudos, all chocolate + granola goodness) for anyone who already finds those interests intersecting on a daily basis:

It's a post + comment thread on detroitbadboys.com about Curry, smallball, anger, literature, malice, and, with any luck, catharsis.

You'll like it.

I won't claim to have posted.

But I won't claim not to have posted, either.

I figure it's obvious.

LBJ

Not the Lyndon, folks.

But he of the crab dribble. Or, I don't know, maybe it's the Crab Dribble. Either way, though, I figure I don't need a link here; either you already know about it or you don't care. And regardless, the Crab Dribble? Are you serious? And we're still talking about it? Debating whether it's a travel or not?

Come on, as Gob might say.

Meanwhile, Rodney Stuckey is on fire, the Pistons have won seven straight, and they play the Trail Blazers tonight. If I'm still up grading papers by halftime, I'll try to find a feed for the game and see what's happening.

Brilliant Marketing, Really

If you're so inclined, check out the Pistons official website (pistons.com, naturally) and look for ads for "Ladies' Night Out."

Now, remember that not only is the country's economy tanking, but Michigan's is worse than just about any other individual state in the US. Now, imagine that you're trying to attract people to a basketball game, to spend a whole mess o' money on what amounts to a diversion, a luxury. And, sure, maybe there is a certain extra temptation to distraction, to diversion, to entertainment when things are terrible, but keep in mind that Michigan's rates of foreclosures, unemployment, job loss, etc, are essentially off the charts at this point.

So, how do you get people to buy tickets?

Well, if they're ladies, you tempt them with souvenir martini glasses and Walter Herrmann.

Walter Herrmann.

Walter Herrmann + Martinis = Ladies' Night Out.

That's brilliant.

(And it's an autograph session, no less).

It's Early

And the Pistons are 3-0.

Pistons

I saw a quarter of game three, missed game four, and, from what I've read, that was probably okay. It also means, though, that I have nothing to say.

We'll see what happens in tonight's game.

Cleveland - Detroit: Game One

Strange game. Not a great game. Not necessarily even an enjoyable game.

But Detroit won.

Somehow.

Before game two, tonight, I must ask: did anyone else catch LeBroN JamEs laying out Mr. Webber with that elbow on a drive? No replay on TNT that I caught, but, dang, something done flattened Chris.

Pistons Move On

I watched this one from a bit of a post-surgical fog, but I'm still feeling good about it and I'm still feeling good about Tayshaun and how perfectly that boy backed down Deng for the jump-hook over and over again.

And I'm feeling good about the new basketball rule that I learned during this game: apparently, if you're shooting a three and your shot gets blocked, you can grab the defender's shoulder on your way to the floor and get yourself a foul call. Nice! That's some mad science they never taught me at the YMCA.

Other thing I've learned: Deng is the Bull folks should talk about for the next year.

Chicago - Detroit: Game Four

Okay, I didn't see the game. It was an unbelievable afternoon in Virginia -- one of those perfect, windy, sunny, 70-degree, spring days when there really is not a good enough reason to be inside.

But, I guess I didn't miss that much. At least, not much beyond Kirk Hinrich punching Flip Murray in the groin. See the video here: punch-that-clown.

Lots of crotch shots in the NBA this playoff season.

And, let's make that the last time that phrase pops up here.

Detroit - Chicago: Game Three

I thought this was the best piece of analysis of game three of the Detroit-Chicago series. It comes from the comments section of the Detroit Bad Boys blog.

“You know how — as a kid of the ’80s — sometimes you’d think you pressed pause on the awkward Nintendo controller during Mike Tyson’s Punchout…

and say you were fighting Glass Joe…

But you didn’t really pause the game, so while you were getting some Kool Aid, talking on the phone, or destroying a Micro Magic cheeseburger, Glass Joe was having his way with helpless Little Mac?

You know when you came back to the game, Little Mac had already been knocked down once and his energy level was way down?

You know what I’m talking about?

Well, when you came back to the game, you didn’t press reset, did you? I mean, you were fighting Glass Joe for godsakes. You just grabbed the controller and beat the hell out of him for the remainder of the fight.

And you still won by TKO (or, “eee aaaa uuuu,” according to the ref) just as you would have had you succeeded in pressing pause or been playing since the beginning of the fight.
Well the Bulls are obviously Glass Joe (or glass psyche, in this case), and the Pistons just beat the hell out of them. My guess is that we’ll still see the TKO.”

See, I’m in favor of pretty much anything that uses the NES as a metaphor. Comparing, say, a beer to one of the weapons in Super Contra, or a particular day to a Super Tecmo Bowl player, or even a particular day to that one game, every season, in Tecmo that the NES decides – just straight-up decides – that you are going to lose, no matter who you’re playing or how healthy your players are.

Detroit - Chicago: Game Two

Another game, another rout. This one wasn't nearly as much fun to watch as game one, due mostly to the fact that play stopped on every other possession for a couple of free throws. I'm all for hard, working ball, but let me see movement for more than 45 seconds at a time.

That said, you know that cliche about how the game wasn't as close as the score might indicate? That applies here -- and the score wasn't even remotely close. The only thing that kept the score as close (if you can call 21 points close) as it came out was the number of free throws Chicago took.

And (damn him and his university-destroying sturm und whine), Webber had a ridiculous game. Ten of eleven shots?

And Prince was everywhere. Everywhere.

And how do you get to pros, get to the playoffs, play a major role in sweeping Miami, and then double-dribble? Mr. Gordon?

Bob Talbert Had a Name for This

More good things, in no particular order:

1. The beating that Detroit put on Chicago on Saturday night: Billups getting Gordon into foul trouble in the first quarter; no one losing it on questionable calls; focus, focus, and more focus; all of those forced Chicago turnovers, etc.

2. Sly Stone’s album Fresh. It’s like Stone trying to bounce back from the darkness and paranoia of There’s a Riot Goin’ On and only making it halfway. The songs are elastic, his vocals are amazing, and it has, in “If You Want Me to Stay,” one of the best singles Stone released. And that’s saying a lot.

3. Joe Henry’s cover of Sly Stone’s “Let Me Have It All” on Henry’s album Trampoline.

4. Harper, two weeks beyond his second birthday, reminding me, throughout the first quarter of Saturday’s game, that “Chauncey Billups is bald.” And then insisting, as we watched a couple of minutes of the Suns-Spurs game, that every bald player he saw was, in fact, Chauncey Billups.

5. A pale ale that I made a month or so ago. It’s hopped only with Amarillo hops and it’s dry and incredibly citrusy. Like grapefruit beer, kind of. Or like Squirt with less sweet and more bitter. I dunno. But it’s good.

6. Just over a month of school remaining.

7. I've been married for seven years today.