Its been quite some time since I’ve posted anything. There are a number of reasons that I could give as to why it’s been so long but none are really sufficient and even less are worth the time they’d take to type. So, I’m not going to bother you with excuses. Instead, I’ll just say that I didn’t enter rehab (yet) and have not been evicted from my house. In fact, I’ve moved of my own free will, and some slight cajoling from my girlfriend, (That’s right. I’m officially “living in sin” as my grandmother used to put it. Then again, she had a pig valve inserted into her heart and continued to smoke two packs a day so she might not have been as wise as I was once led to believe). During this time, I’ve also managed to grow yet another fantastacular beard (two months and counting), survived a four day visit from my former minor league co-workers (barely, just barely) and continued my 5 year streak of avoiding arrest. All in all its been a bang up six weeks and I couldn’t have asked for much more.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I
did ask for more. Specifically, I asked to have the San Antonio Spurs eliminated from the playoffs and, subsequently, from my life until late October. Alas, David Stern interceded and sent the Phoenix Suns packing instead which left us with one of the more life draining Western Conference Finals in recent memory. If it hadn’t been for LeBron’s performances last week I may have had to resume the construction of that meth lab in the woods in order to fill my time as the thought of watching the Spurs square off against the Pistons might have been to much for me to handle without the assistance of lethal controlled substances. I’m not saying that I don’t think the Spurs are the best team in basketball because they most certainly are. I’m saying that no team since the late 90s Knicks fills me with as much contempt and rage as the San Antonio Spurs. Think I’m kidding? I wish. I’ve literally been driven to yelling at my TV on numerous occasions this summer for no reason other than my unadulterated hatred of all things Spurs. In order to help you understand how one (fairly) impartial fan can be driven to such lengths, I’ve decided to break down my hatred of the Spurs player by player and I even included a few coaches and front office personnel for good measure.
Brent Barry: Easily my least favorite of the brothers Barry. He’s one of the league’s laziest defenders whose offensive game consists of standing around and shooting set shots
despite being blessed with far more size and athleticism than either Drew or Jon cluld have ever hoped for. Oh yeah, he also wore his warmup jacket during the slam dunk contest. Why not just wear a cardigan sweater next time?
Bruce Bowen: Dirtier than a Tijuana hooker. He’s intentionally tried to hurt players like Steve Nash, Amare Stoudemire, Ray Allen, Jamal Crawford and Vince Carter (can’t blame him there) among many others. What makes it worse is that he’s rarely, if ever, punished for his misdeeds and reporters all seem to give him a free pass because he’s a “nice guy” off the court. You know who else was a nice guy off the court? Kermit Washington. That doesn’t change what he did. Is Bowen going to have to break somebody’s face before the NBA actually punishes this goon? Do you want to know how big a douchebag Bowen is? His own family
disowned him.
Jackie Butler: Fat, useless Bama. He also committed to the University of Tennessee out of high school (see: Fat Bama) which makes him evil by default.
Tim Duncan: Booooring. If Zydrunas Ilgauskas hadn’t already claimed the nickname I’d recommend we all call him Big Z because that’s exactly what he makes me want to do, take a nap. He’s also a huge fucking dork. Seriously, the guy plays D&D and
other assorted nerd based games and video games for fun. No wonder nobody ever does stories on this guy. I mean, have you ever seen any stories about the freaks that play
Magic: The Gathering at your local Denny’s at 3 am in your newspaper? Didn’t think so. (link: slam)
Francisco Elson: His name is Francisco and he’s Dutch. I rest my case.
Melvin Ely: He’s the proverbial talented yet extraordinarily lazy big man who does absolutely nothing with his god given talents. He’s also looks completely ridiculous with his unbelievably long hair and goatee whilst wearing suits on the sideline. On top of all this, he attended Fresno State during the Jerry Tarkanian era so there’s a 99% chance he’s a criminal. Still not convinced? His mother’s name is Melvina.
Michael Finley: Have you ever seen a close up of this guys face? Jesus. He looks like he tried to make out with a panini press. Also, jumped ship to his former team’s chief rival in order to try and win a championship. I’m sorry, you can tell me how “classy” a guy he is all you want (I’m looking at you David Aldridge) but after a move like that, well, I refuse to believe it.
Manu Ginobilli: Ass...hole. Is there one thing about him that doesn’t scream this? I nearly punched my TV when he faked the bump (during a dead ball) from Derek Fisher in Game 4 of the Western Conference Finals until I realized I wouldn’t actually be hitting him. One of the league’s most notorious floppers who, somehow, has managed to continually bamboozle the refs into thinking he can be knocked over by a stiff breeze. It’s maddening to watch him get away with the same bush league tactics over and over again. Basketball may not be soccer but it damn well may become it if Manu’s allowed to keep playing another 10 years. Also, he’s Argentinian and those people are pure evil. I’m not kidding. All the other South American countries hate them because they don’t consider themselves South American. No, they fancy themselves as displaced Europeans. Oh yeah, Argentina also allowed Nazis political asylum after WWII. Like I said: Ass...hole.
Robert Horry: Singlehandedly destroyed the Suns-Spurs series. Spent a career riding on the coattails of stars and winning championships despite being one of the more physically gifted players of his generation. Once said that though many pegged him the as the “next Pippen”, he had no desire to fill that role because “it takes too much energy to defend and handle the ball that much”. That’s exactly the kind of effort and attitude I’d expect from somebody who spends most of the year sitting on the bench eating cheez doodles. While many will say Horry’s had a great career, I respectfully disagree with this sentiment. He was the 11th pick in the draft coming out of college. Personally, I expect a little more than some timely (off the bench) clutch shooting from someone drafted in such a lofty position if I’m going to go so far as to anoint their career as “great”.
Fabricio Oberto: He’s Argentinian (see: Ginobilli, Manu). He wears one of those stupid soccer headbands on his early 90’s grunge haircut and his favorite band is the Foo Fighters. Additionally, he doesn’t even have the good sense to secure an endorsement deal with the beef jerky company which bears his name.
Tony Parker: Umm, he’s French. He also manages to get away with more egregious traveling violations than any player in the league. He’s a vapid waste of space as evidenced by his listing of
Face: Off as his favorite movie. His first rap song (and accompanying video) was the worst entry into the genre since Brian Austin Green. Also, every time that I watch him I’m reminded that the Magic passed on him in order to draft Jerryl Sasser. (Banging head against desk).
Beno Udrih: His name is Beno and he
isnt named after Beano Cook. Need I say more?
Jacque Vaughan: Quite possibly the worst jumpshooter in NBA history. I know junior high kids who have more accurate jumpshots than him. He’s been perennially overrated since college due to his nice guy demeanor and fan friendly attitude (read: He doesn’t scare middle aged white people). Finally, watching him play (and repeatedly launch that horrible jumpshot) for the Magic easily took 5-10 years off of my life.
James White: It’s tough to hate somebody who can
do this. However, that’s precisely why I hate him. He’s easily one of the 10 most physically gifted players in the entire NBA, yet he can’t even manage to make a teams active roster (Note: Its not just the Spurs, he couldn’t do it in Indiana either).
Gregg Poppovich: A pockmarked, elitist prick. Every time I watch him smugly reply to reporters in a press conference it makes me want to fly to San Antonio and break one of his $1000 wine bottles over his head. Universally lauded as a great coach despite the fact that he never saw fit to take over as head coach of the Spurs until after San Antonio won the rights to Tim Duncan in the lottery. Of course, once this happened he fired Bob Hill and named himself coach of a team that suddenly featured two of the league’s top 5 big men and (eventually) Top 50 players of all time. If Phil Jackson’s accomplishments are lessened by the fact that he was blessed with a ton of talent on his championship teams than Gregg Poppovich’s are too. Except, Jackson didn’t have to stab one of his employees in the back to do it (after forcing that employee to tank in order to increase the franchise’s odds of receiving said pick).
RC Buford: It’s tough to say something bad about a guy who recently adopted a kid from Cameroon. Until you realize that the kid in question was a
6’8” stud basketball player who will be attending the University of Texas next year on a basketball scholarship. Wow, what a coincidence. Buford goes on a trip to the country in Africa thats routinely producing Division 1 basketball players and comes back with an adopted son who is among the brightest prospects in the entire country. Man, that RC is one altruistic son of a bitch, aint he?
In conclusion, My thoughts on the San Antonio Spurs can be summed up thusly:
Fuck you. Fuck you. You’re cool (Matt Bonner). Fuck you. I’m outta here.