Washed Up Player

The Sparkler Squadron

2009-07-20T22:45:00.001-07:00

Lilli, Eloise, & Avery get together for some last second works of encouragement and team building before the big sparkler show (Scaredy Cat Lanie is no where to be found:)

Fireworks 101: How to hold a sparkler

Lilli holds shop on the correct technique: look at the focus! Portland 7/4/09

A future green thumb?

Lanie trying her best to overcome her fear of getting dirty, Portland 7/4/09.

4th of July in Portland

The cousins celebrating a successful breakfast outing: (from left) cousin Eloise, Lanie, Lilli, and Avery.

Seattle Sounders - Game Day Experience Through the IPhone Camera

2009-07-19T22:48:00.000-07:00

While I'm having a hard time tracking down the folder with the majority of my game pictures, here is a quick glimpse into what I've experienced thus far as a season ticket holder for the newest professional team in Seattle. Outside of the $7 I spent in 7th grade to order the "Sky Jump" workout regimen from a Sporting News advertisement (And no, those programs don't actually increase your vertical by 12 inches in 12 weeks), it's the best sporting investment I've ever made.

Game #1 vs. Red Bulls - The standard setter for what has come since...SCARVES UP!!!

The ECS - With apologies to Toronto, the BEST supporter group throughout MLS.

March to the Match prior to the Chelsea game. This happens in Pioneer Square 90 minutes prior to kickoff for each game, but this was the first time I attended. Put a band & fans that have spent the past few hours at the pub together, and you get plenty of interesting songs and chants. A good time for sure.

March to the Match - ECS en route to Qwest.

Qwest filling up prior to the Chelsea game. The atmosphere was absolutely electric. While the hometown crew didn't put out the dub, they created numerous scoring chances and more than held their own for 90 minutes. Some big league and US Open Cup matches are coming up, so if you can GET a ticket, come experience the void that been filled and then some by the Sonics' departure. Surely a team and organization to get behind and support.

Sightseeing in Beijing...

2008-08-10T23:08:00.000-07:00

- USA 102, China 70. The "Redeem Team" (which is a played out nickname already) handled business. D-Wade is back from his run on the beach with Apollo Creed, thus he smacked the Chinese around like Clubber Lang with a fearlessness I hadn't seen him play with in years. Bron is the prototype, 'nuff said. As for his European running mate...I appreciate the unselfishness, but right about now Kobe needs more Mamba ("I Left My Jumper in El Segundo?"). If the Americans can bury some jumpers & play consistently aggressive defense, they should be aight.

- 2 down, 6 to go.

- Mad pollution and oppressive politics...Welcome to Beijing. Oh yeah, this stuff still happens with the world watching.

- Nice that you made the Opening Ceremonies, but seriously Gee-Dub, I think you may have more pressing issues. At least it's funny when your president does this.

- I set the alarm for 4am, got up, fought off heavy eyelids, and got rewarded with a big pile of crap, courtesy of the Oranje.

I'll try to post more later this week, but you know how that goes...

D-Day

2008-07-02T22:43:00.000-07:00

Wow, don't think I've ever hurt this much as a sports fan. I'm not gonna waste my energy laying blame or fault as to why the team formally known as the Seattle Supersonics are now the Oklahoma City Whatevers, because plenty of individuals are doing such in a much more poignant, well thought-out manner. And like others, I know I've lost the first team I truly loved. Come November 1st, I won't have a team to root for like I have for the better part of my 30 years of existence. I've lost my Sonics.

I remember falling in love with my team in 1st grade. During the first trip to the Whittier Elementary School library, we were given a look around and the opportunity to check out our first book. When the librarian asked my what I wanted, I told her I wanted something about basketball, and she said she had the perfect one for me. I came away from the library with the 1978-79 Seattle Sonics World Championship Almanac. From the moment I opened the cover, I became completely enthralled with each player, & their journey to beating the Washington Bullets for the Championship. I read about players like Gus Williams, Dennis Johnson, John Johnson, "Downtown" Freddie Brown, pre-perm Jack Sikma, Lonnie Shelton, Paul Silas, and Tom LaGarde. I read about Lenny Wilkens, and how he coached in the All-Star game that season. I read about how they knocked Kareem's Lakers out of the playoffs, and how they avenged the prior season's loss to Wes Unseld and the Bullets. I admired the photos from the Championship parade, and began to mirror the joy and happiness the fans in the pictures expressed. I basically owned that book until 5th grade I checked it out so much. From those early moments, I bled green & gold.

From there, the passion grew. I remember seeing in person Xavier McDaniel getting ejected during his rookie season for knocking out some poor sap from the Hawks. I remember the 1986-87 team shocking Akeem & the Rockets in a game 6 double OT thriller to knock the defending Western Conference champs out of the playoffs. I remember Derrick McKey. I remember chanting "BEAT LA! BEAT LA!" as Dale Ellis rained in 3 after 3 against Magic & company during a regular season victory. I remember hurting when Tom Chambers went to the Suns. I remember Shawn's double pump reverse at MSG during his rookie year, and Calabro bugging out about it. I remember Dana Barros. I remember GP rocking #2 during his rookie campaign. I remember the Kemp dunk on Alton Lister. I remember being at that same game, and watching Gary throw a 3/4 court lob to the Reign Man to ice a series-clinching playoff game against Run-TMC and Golden State. I remember Detlef. I remember listening to Sam Perkins' hip-hop show on KUBE 93 ever Sunday night. I remember Ricky Pierce. I remember the '93 Western Conference Finals, and how Dan Majerle couldn't miss an effing 3. I remember Dikembe. I remember Nick Van Exel owning the Sonics in '94-95. I remember 64 wins, and driving around with high school teammates honking when we beat the Jazz to advance to the Finals. I remember Nate McMillan. I remember being pissed at Bob Costas pregame of 1996 finals when he said Sonics beating the Bulls would be "the biggest upset in NBA history". I remember Kemp swinging his nuts in Rodman's face after he banged on him Game 5. I remember Jim McIlvane, Rich King, Benoit Benjamin, Ervin Johnson, Robert Swift, Johan Petro, Mo Sene, and every other stiff we've had at the 5 since Sikma left. I remember crying when Shawn and George Karl bounced. I remember Vin Baker being good for about 7 games. I remember Rashard sobbing when he got drafted in the 2nd round. I remember the self proclaimed "Kobe Stopper" Ruben "The Babysitter" Patterson. I remember Billy Owens & Don MacLean. I remember the Paul Westphal era. I remember wondering why Vlade Radmonovic could never string two good games together. I remember Bones Barry. I remember the Ray for GP trade, and how it was the only good thing Wally Walker ever did as GM. I remember Howard Schultz on the day he bought the team saying he guaranteed a championship in 5 years, and thinking he was a bit naive.

I could go on and on, because this is just quickly thinking of stuff that meant a lot. I'm really hoping that the future provides an opportunity for us to land another team, but I really don't know if I want that if it means making another fan from a different fan base feel like I do now. I just know I'm gonna miss my Sonics.

No Kaka, No Problem

2008-05-27T10:34:00.000-07:00

With Brazil coming to Seattle this Saturday for a friendly against Canada, I'm getting a little geeked. While Ronaldinho, Kaka, and Adriano won't be in the fold, at least myself and other future Seattle Sounder FC supporters will get a glimpse at Robinho, Anderson, and other top-flight members of the "Selacao". The Canadians will make this a game, too, if Dwyane De Rosario has his way. Qwest Field should be full, and if the atmosphere it anything close to what the Mexico-China game was a few weeks back, it should be a treat. Also, don't sleep on the USA-England friendly tomorrow from Wembley (10:45 pst, ESPN Classic)...

Bring Back the Hi-Top Fade!

2008-03-27T15:05:00.000-07:00

Watching ESPN's broadcast of the McDonald's All-American Game last night, I witnessed what you'd expect from a high school all star contest: not a lot of "D", a ton of lobs and ridiculous bangs, and one-on-one battles that make these games more of the glorified pick-up variety. But a cultural phenomenon occurs last night far greater than anything you'll find in the box score or game summary: it was the official return of the box fade! Arizona recruit & super PG Brandon Jennings broke it out last night like he was Marcus Liberty, Kendall Gill, or 'Nique. I really thought it was 1988 all over again; he even repped a rock solid part on the left side! Please let this be become the official death of cornrows as we know it, and the rebirth of something special. Brandon, if you can break this style out by the fall, you will quickly become my favorite player on the planet (btw, his game is equally on par with his cut-up, thus don't be surprised if Jerrod Bayless' impending departure could be quickly forgotten in the desert).

The NBA: "Where David Stern and Clay Bennett's collective lying and bulls&*^ happens..."

2008-03-26T22:07:00.000-07:00

With NBA commish David Stern and his cronies getting shown the red carpet by Clay Bennett & Oklahoma City's finest, things are getting worse for the Sonics longevity in Seattle. Not only does it look like a foregone conclusion that the owners will back Bennett's relocation plan, Stern also makes a point that if the NBA is to come back to the Emerald City, a refurbished Key Arena is not gonna cut it. Funny, because two years ago it seemed like a feasible solution to the NBA's czar...has the landscape changed that much, or is he now full of Clay's poo-poo?

Anyhow, just thought it would be as good a time as any to share the shirts I and the rest of the fans got during the pre-season and the regular season opener at the Key. Pretty sure the Marketing/PR team won't be recycling these for the '08-'09 opener...

March Madness '08

2008-03-23T17:30:00.000-07:00

Is it just me, or does it seem like it's been ages since Adam Morrison & JJ Redick were endlessly hyped against each other? Weird to think that both their college careers ended in tears JUST 2 YEARS AGO!!! Sure haven't heard much from either since...surely, we need the Ron Jeremy mustache to return strong from the knee injury, I miss moments like these:

Just some quick thoughts on the Tourney, version .08:

"Best Impersonation of the 1990 UNLV Runnin' Rebels" goes to: North Carolina. Gotta be UNC, right? Ty Lawson looks back to full strength, Hansbrough brought it both games, and Ellington and the rest of the supporting cast was more than up to the task in hammering Mt. St. Mary's and Arkansas by a combined 70 points. Interested to see if Wazzu can make the Tar Heels play at their pace in the Sweet 16...I doubt it.

"The 1996 UCLA Bruin Yak Job" goes to: Duke. You'll find the most depressed fans in America 8 miles from Chapel Hill, where the Cameron Crazies we wishing for any type of post presence this weekend. Anyone. Anybody. This guy. Or this guy. How about him? Or him? Just not this clown.

Belmont put the fear of God into Blue Devil nation Thursday night-if not for Gerald Henderson's late game heroics-but the show ended with Bob Huggins' squad completely exposing the one-dimensional Dookies with an inside-out game that should serve the Mountaineers well against Xavier. Good luck in the Olympics, Coach K: don't let Angola sneak up on ya.

"The Donald Williams Next-Level Performance" goes to: Stephen Curry, Davidson - 40 pts (8-10 from 3) vs. Gonzaga, 30 pts & 5 asst vs Georgetown. Crazy spot ups, step backs, penetrating finishes: he was bananas.

"The Dirk Nowitzki Vanishing Act" goes to: Eric Gordon, Indiana - 8 pts (3-15 fg, 2-6 ft) in loss vs. Arkansas (averaged 21 ppg during season).

Predictions for weekend #2:

East Regional
UNC 74, WSU 61
Louisville 84, Tennessee 82 (OT)

UNC 80, Louisville 66

Midwest Regional
Kansas 81, Villanova 76
Davidson 65, Wisconsin 62

Kansas 87, Davidson 72

South Regional
Memphis 68, Michigan St. 62
Stanford 78, Texas 77

Stanford 86, Memphis 83 (OT)

West Regional
UCLA 74, Western Kentucky 64
West Virginia 83, Xavier 76

UCLA 62, West Virginia 54

My Tourney Bracket: 24 of 32 first round picks correct, 12 of 16 second round, 7 of 8 Elite Eight teams still in play, and my Final Four is still intact. That's current good for 3rd place out of 23 in the "Justin Dentmon Fan Club" group, and puts me in the 98.4 percentile nationally on ESPN.com. If Kevin Love & Co. can pick it up offensively and maintain the crazy "d", I'll be cutting down the virtual net in around two weeks time. BTW, just in case you weren't watching two years ago around this time...

An amazing piece about Tony Harris

2008-01-10T12:13:00.000-08:00

Just thought I'd post a link to Wright Thompson's account/article about the disappearance and death of former Garfield High School and WSU Star Tony Harris. While the news of Tony's tragic journey and subsequent passing in Brazil came to light back in mid-November, Thompson actually went to Brazil in an attempt to sort through all the murky and incredibly depressing details surrounding Harris' final days. It's truly one tremendously compelling piece of writing. Whether you knew Tony, followed his hoop career, or knew nothing about his story, I recommend taking the time & engulfing yourself in this piece. Thompson also discusses the background behind the story with Henry Abbott of TrueHoop, and and stress and sadness that came with decribing what transpired.

I didn't know Tony personally, but in playing basketball against him on a handful of occasions, I can say he was one fierce competitor, and a tremendous scorer. As a player while competing, you often make flash evaluations about the guys you play against. Can they shoot? How strong is their opposite hand? What's their first step like? I will say that in guarding Tony, he was strong in each offensive facet of the game, an absolute handful. I had nothing but respect for the way he played the game.

Thoughts and prayers go out to Tony's family and friends, what a tremendous loss.

Random Thoughts: Kid 'n Play Was Awesome

2007-12-06T15:54:00.000-08:00

Anyone who’s built any type of friendship with me over time knows that I take, umm, great pride in my "rhythm". Any opportunity to inform people that my Senior Superlative at Everett High was “Best Dancer” makes for a splendid personal moment. The roots for that were built from the group that provided us with the greatest high-top fade of all-time: Kid ‘n Play.

As far as dancing mastery went, I gave all accolades to my step brother at the time, Sean. He attended Franklin High School in Seattle, and as far as I was concerned, he epitomized what it was to be cool. He always had an attractive girlfriend (he made sure to show you an updated pic each time he saw you), the newest catch phrase or saying (“You bet your Red Rider”, “I like that hella”, etc…), and was always fresh dressed (Le Coq Sportif was his clothing line of choice, google it if you have a chance). But more than anything, he began tutoring me on how to really dance. You name it, I was doing it: the Running Man, the Roger Rabbit, the New Jack Swing. While I probably just annoyed him with my constant grilling for dance information, in my eyes, I felt like his little red-headed prodigy.

Nothing exemplified this more than when one weekend in the fall of 1989, he brought up a recording of BET’s “Rap City” that happened to include “2 Hype” by Kid ‘n Play. The two of us choreographed out the entire video’s routine: every foot hook & spin, slide, and leg kick. Not to say I was as graceful as the Dynamic Duo, but when I passed on Sean’s knowledge to my friend Luke Moore and we debuted our routine at North Middle School’s Fall Achievement After School Dance, let’s just say it opened the door for me getting to slow dance with Melissa Chavez...I BRING "A" GAME!!! One thing I did figure out after many hours of hair styling with mousse and hair spray, I was never going to have a high-top fade like Kid…

Greatest Hip-Hop Track Ever

2007-11-17T21:01:00.000-08:00

I've been extremely lame for the past month, for that I apologize. Until I find the time to write, I'll speak the language of YouTube...here's without question my favorite song ever created:

Electric Relaxation - A Tribe Called Quest

Am I Chris Mullin's Son?

2007-10-25T18:00:00.000-07:00

After checking out this pic from the Sonics-Warriors game the other night, I'm seriously wondering. I'm quite sure anyone that's seen my jumper would say it's a definite "no".

Washed Up Player Hoop Theater: 1986 NBA Playoffs, MJ scores 63 against the Celts

2007-10-09T17:35:00.000-07:00

It's been almost 10 years since his Airness hung up his kicks (yes, I'm not counting the Washington Wizard experiment back in 02-03; as far as I'm concerned, that didn't happen). What's most aggravating in the time that's passed is the "MJ" comparison us fans get every time a new, talented player jumps on the scene (See: Kobe, Lebron, D-Wade, Carmelo, Durant, etc.). It was bad enough that when LBJ had that nutty game to eliminate the Pistons last spring in the Eastern Conference Finals, some said the baton had been passed.

I say watch this video and come to my side of thinking: NO ONE will ever be as great as the original "23".

Being thankful for the good things

2007-10-08T11:10:00.000-07:00

Well, it would be fair to say that Sunday wasn't the best day ever. Not only did it rain miserably hard all day long, the Seahawks got absolutely hammered by a depleted Steelers lineup, and the effing Yankees staved off elimination thanks to Benedict Arnold. But as the family and I returned from Lummi Island yesterday afternoon, I discovered what was to be my true day ruiner.

As we pulled in the alley to park the van, I got out to move the Nissan, which had been parked outside the garage door. Walking up to the car, it looked as if a seagull had dive bombed the car: it was absolutely covered in what initially looked like berry droppings. But as I got in the vehicle, I found my contents scattered throughout in a manner of messiness that even I don't display. Someone had broken into my car.

Their mode of entry: punching a hole in the rear passenger window & opening the back door. In the end, I lost over 100 CD's going back to my high school days, a pair of Nike Air Max hoop shoes, 2 bags full of books, and my journal, which had a year's-worth of memories scribed in its pages. As for the berries, someone had gone out of their way to smear them all over the exterior, making for another annoying mess comparable to what happened a few weeks ago.

You obviously play the what-if game when crap like this happens. Why did I park in the alley instead of the well-lit street? How come I left all those items of personal and financial value sitting as prey in the Nissan? How lazy is that? Regardless, getting your car pillaged through is so violating that I almost would prefer them stealing my car and taking everything. The capper is that auto insurance doesn't cover personal property theft, and that while home owner's insurance does, the deductible for a claim is $1,000 and they will charge us a new "file claim" fee on our yearly insurance for actually seeking help. So basically I'm completely screwed, pissed, and depressed about the incident all at the same time.

I guess there is plenty to be happy about. The kids - for the most part - are healthy again. The Red Sox absolutely dismantled the Angels to advance to the ALCS. My fantasy football team - Mr. Ping Ping, named after this guy - is about to go 4-1, thanks to Tony Romo, Reggie Wayne, Dallas Clark, & company (My roster is sick, considering I drafted 14th out of 14 teams). Oh yeah, a guy named Kevin plays for the local basketball team...I better keep my chin up. If I'm still sad, I guess this can always make me laugh:

Busy Busy Busy...

2007-10-03T20:41:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to drop in to say I've been crazy busy the past couple of days, haven't had a lot of computer time. Nothing worse that a house full of sick people, especially when 3 of the 5 inflicted with colds are under the age of 4...ugh. I'll try to post what I started the other day after work tomorrow. Until then, here's a pic of myself with the little ones, courtesy of http://lillirei.blogspot.com:

From left: Lilli (3), Avery (20 months) & Lanie (20 months). Yes, we've gotten Lilli started on her Starbucks addiction already, even if it's in the form of vanilla steamed milk!

Hot Sauce, Stay out of Brazil

2007-10-01T16:32:00.000-07:00

When I first started watching the And 1 Mixtape Tour on ESPN about 5 years ago, I remember finding myself perplexed by this guy called Hot Sauce. As the season went along, we found out that "Sizzle" spent every waking moment of his Atlanta existence dribbling a basketball, and on-court persona was defined by his ability to make defended look absolutely ridiculous, like these poor lads:

What confused me was two-fold: 1) How set up is the sequence of the game where he’s shaking people up? Throughout the season, the guy guarding Sauce during this part of the game was by far the least athletic player on a court filled with leapers. And 2) How would your pride allow for that to happen? Especially after he became a target and people wanted Sauce to come at them, he would do the same stupid moves, and guys kept falling for it. If you're a defender with any sense of defensive pride and a guy tried that and it was “impossible” to stop, wouldn't you deter any theatrics by getting a little physical, possibly a little forearm shiver or elbow?

Transition to Brazilian soccer, where a flair for athletic theater is evident any time the country’s pastime is involved (See: Pele, Ronaldihno, Kaka, etc.). There is apparently a young player named Kerlon who’s pretty good, and plays for the Junior National Team. He’s also got a Hot Sauce-like move that as this article states “confounds and irritates opponents by repeatedly bouncing the ball off his head to run past defenders”. Seems if you “irritate” your opponent in Brazil, this is what happens:

The Brazilians don’t play games. San Paolo better be scratched off Sauce’s hoop itinerary, doesn’t feel like his rhetoric is gonna fly down there.

Luke Ridnour: Back to the Future?

2007-09-30T18:09:00.000-07:00

Growing up along the Interstate 5 corridor, I began hearing the virtues of Blaine’s Luke Ridnour about 10 years ago. His legend was Pistol Pete-esque. He resided in the tiny town bordering Canada, where his dad – who was his prep coach – gave him keys and unlimited access to the high school gym. So he practiced. A lot. So much so that by the time he had completed his prep career, he was a two-time state champion, an All-State selection, and a McDonald’s and Parade High School All-American. All this with deadly range, deft ball-handling, and flair that I’m quite sure hadn’t ever been seen before from a prep star in northern Whatcom County.

His success continued at Oregon, where alongside Luke Jackson and Fred Jones he helped lead the Ducks to NCAA tournament appearances in 2 of his 3 seasons in Eugene, including an Elite Eight performance in 2002. He left the Ducks following a junior season that saw him average 19.7 PPG (2^nd in the Pac-10) and 6.6 APG, earning him Pac-10 Player of the Year honors. The Sonics drafted Luke 14^th overall in the ’03 Draft, nabbing what seemed to be their PG for the next 10-15 years.

But unfortunately for Supe fans, Luke lost something when he moved to Seattle: his ability to make an open jumper.

While he has great change of pace, pushes tempo well, and has distributed amazingly to Ray and Rashard, his inability to make a 17-23 footer has annihilated the Sonics the past few years. The half court setting has been a disaster for Luke: teams simply wait for the ball to get rotated back to him, back off & clog the middle, and let him chuck away. And while the team suffered with a crazy amount of injuries last season, Bob Hill’s confidence in Earl Watson’s shooting ability – and lack thereof in Luke’s- created a fairly equal logging of minutes between the two PGs by season’s end. This, accompanied by his mediocre-at-best one-on-one defensive abilities, led to Sam Presti and the new regime shopping him to anyone that would listen this past summer.

So why do I think it’s Luke’s time to shine?

For one, I’m done living negatively in the past with Ridnour. I’m done getting pissed about brick after brick after brick. I’m finished being angry watching every point guard drive by him like his shoelaces are tied together. It’s Luke’s 5^th year, and I’m going to be optimistic and think that most NBA PG’s make the next level jump around the time they hit 25.

Take a look, for instance, at the following stats I grabbed from a "random" NBA PG’s first four years:

G	GS	MPG	FG%	3P%	FT%	APG	TO	PPG
65	2	10.5	0.423	0.418	0.824	2.1	0.97	3.3	Age 22
76	9	21.9	0.459	0.415	0.86	3.4	1.29	9.1	Age 23
40	40	31.7	0.363	0.374	0.826	5.5	2.08	7.9	Age 24
56	27	27.4	0.477	0.403	0.882	4.9	1.82	8.6	Age 25

Now, take a look at Luke’s stats from his first four campaigns:

G	GS	MPG	FG%	3P%	FT%	APG	TO	PPG
69	6	16.1	0.414	0.338	0.823	2.4	1.16	5.5	Age 21
82	82	31.4	0.405	0.376	0.883	5.9	1.82	10	Age 22
79	77	33.2	0.418	0.289	0.877	7	2.05	11.5	Age 23
71	58	29.5	0.433	0.353	0.805	5.2	2.2	11	Age 24

So, neither player’s stats jump off the page, but it could be said that in comparison, Luke was the better player. Well, here’s Player X’s stats since that point:

G	GS	MPG	FG%	3P%	FT%	APG	TO	PPG
70	70	34.1	0.487	0.406	0.895	7.3	2.93	15.6
82	82	34.6	0.483	0.455	0.887	7.7	2.79	17.9
82	82	33.1	0.465	0.413	0.909	7.3	2.34	17.7
78	78	33.5	0.47	0.405	0.916	8.8	2.68	14.5
75	75	34.3	0.502	0.431	0.887	11.5	3.27	15.5
79	79	35.4	0.512	0.439	0.921	10.5	3.49	18.8
76	76	35.3	0.532	0.455	0.899	11.6	3.78	18.6

If you haven’t figured it out, Player X is 2-Time MVP Steve Nash. While at first glance it’s easy to kill the comparison, early on there were many parallels to their careers. Like Ridnour, it took many years of frustration and growing pains to begin to discover what it took to succeed individually, so with age and experience he naturally matured and became a smarter player. The jump coincided with having the superstar all-around elite player in the form of Dirk Nowitzki and a solid scorer in Michael Finley. He’s obviously made the next leap by playing in Mike D’Antoni’s high-octane system and being surrounded by Amare, Shawn Marion, and Boris Diaw. Point being: once he became the guy, had some dependable parts around him, and could run and gun to his strengths, Nash became one of the NBA’s most unstoppable forces.

Now, look at Luke. He’s starting fresh with a new coaching staff, especially a new assistant in Paul Westhead who’s never been afraid of making his teams play up-tempo. Luke’s experienced mixed successes and failures, all of which have to make him cerebrally stronger than previous seasons. Oh yeah, he’s got the best player in the world under the age of 21 jumping into the mix with him. Could all these things coming together make him the PG that Sonics fans have lusted for since GP took off the #20?

If he starts burying 17-footers on the regular, I’m willing to take that bet.

The Jermaine Jackson Era Starts Monday

2007-09-30T09:51:00.000-07:00

Sonics training camp starts tomorrow, with the free agent invitee list consisting of journeyman Jermaine Jackson (the one to the left, not the other one)...and that's it. According to TNT Sonic Blogger Eric Williams, GM Sam Presti wants to get busy installing the new system, and it doesn't include wide-spread auditions:

“It allows for us to get right into teaching our system, evaluating the team and getting a feel for where we are,” Presti said. “Our focus for camp has to be on the guys we currently have and getting reps for those guys.

Evidently, this means Doug Christie and former Rainier Beach and USC G Lodrick Stewart - both of whom had been involved in offseason workouts - will be looking for work elsewhere. I guess Dougie always has this to fall back on...let's just hope wifey's not around next time he has trouble chewing and swallowing at Sizzler.

Also, The Times' Percy Allen talks to Earl Watson, and he's understandably giddy to have Mr. Durant as his wingman this season:

"Jason Kidd really loves Kevin Durant," Watson said. "He was like, 'Man, I love that kid. I love playing with him.' He was just raving about him. I was already excited to have a chance to actually play with him for an entire season, and I just wanted to get on the court with him as soon as possible. For a point guard to get that chemistry with a shooter is really important."

I'm putting some thoughts together on camp and the roster right now, I should have it up soon.

Washed Up Player Hoop Theater: 2007 NCAA Div. II Championship

2007-09-29T17:21:00.000-07:00

Every Saturday night, I'm going to find a hoop memory to post. In the first installment, why not start with one of the better games I've seen the last ten years? Here's last season's NCAA Div. II Championship between Winona State and Barton. If you don't know how the game ends, you're in for a treat; if you do, you'll surely check it out again. After you watch, read the Barton reaction, it makes it that much better. Nothing like getting a good preseason hoop fix...

12 Year Karma & The Best Prank of All-Time

2007-09-29T12:46:00.000-07:00

So two Saturday's ago, karma hit me in an annoyingly funny way. I walked out to my car around 4pm, only to discover that the previous evening the Altima had been egged. The prank - probably performed by some Everett High knuckleheads - had been capped quite well by the fact that 80 degree sun had been hitting the car for about 4 hours now, making sure that 18 car washes or so probably wouldn't get the yolk off. Naturally I was pretty angry at first, but then I had to laugh, because a decade ago it would have been me chucking those eggs at cars and passer-by'ers alike. So what goes around, comes around...blah blah blah.

We were all idiots in our own ways during our younger years, and I expressed that need through mild suburban vandalism. As I ran to the car wash, I waxed poetically to myself about all the stupid pranks I'd pulled back in the day. Teepeeing Gretchen Grossman's house with 250 rolls of toilet paper, saran wrapping people's car doors shut and accenting the job with maple syrup and chocolate sauce, peeing on the home door handle of the girl that had broken up with one of your friends: all memories that get better with age like a fine wine. But none compare to what I consider-with understandable bias-the greatest prank ever pulled at Everett High School

Flashing back to this spring day in 1996 , it was like most I’ve experienced in my Northwest existence – cloudy and cold with a drizzle heavy enough to nearly be considered rain. I remember sitting in the Senior lot after school getting ready to organize a two-hand touch football game. That’s when my boy Mark Allen approached me. A well renowned mountain climber who by the age of 17 had already ascended McKinley, Mark found exploration and escapade in anything from installing a car stereo to free climbing a 200 foot wall. I’d known him since freshman year, and while we didn’t share a terrible amount of interests outside of water sports and the Doors, we quickly became good friends out of our shared passion for zany stunts and exploits. As I was about to ask him to play, I noticed he had a certain gleam and giddiness that usually led to beautiful, mischievous action.

“B, I think I’ve got the granddaddy of all our pranks in the truck, it’s time we become legends.”

Walking to Mark’s Isuzu Trooper, I thought of those before us that had reached immortal status with their escapades. First to mind was the ‘85 seniors: these guys bought a trashed ’67 VW Bug, decorated it in blue and gold spray paint, disassembled it, broke into the school one night, then reassembled and welded the car together on the 3^rd floor of the “A” building: a pretty classic achievement. Or how about the outgoing class of 1990: they put a wall of cinder blocks in front of every entrance to each building on campus, then poured a quick drying cement mixture over each structure to ensure that no one could enter school the next day. It turned out better than planned: special equipment was needed to bring down each created wall, leading to the cancellation of school. What kind of logistics had to go into the planning of a spectacle of that level? It was this height of status I wanted to achieve with whatever Mark had in mind, and inside I knew he wouldn’t be coming at me unless he possessed the master plan.

Sitting down in the troop, he turned on his CD player, and slipped in the new Adam Sandler disc I had not yet listened to (BTW, anytime there's any remotely relevant reason to post a pic of Bob Barker giving Happy Gilmore the business, I'm gonna do it). “This is it right here,” he deadpanned. I attentively tuned in as Sandler began impersonating an Assistant high school principal; only this guy wasn’t your typical example of executive secondary education leadership. The bit has him giving a school wide address in a drunken, horny state, openly discussing masturbation habits and his “fondness” for the school’s gymnastics team. Yes, by American Pie and Superbad standards, not the most heinously hilarious item of all time, but as a 18-year-old in 1996, it was one of the funniest things I’d ever heard.

Mark hit me with his concept. “B, we’ve got to get this on the intercom. Can you imagine the main office going bonkers while this played to the whole student body? They’d be running around pissing themselves while they try to figure out how to shut our principal off. And if we closed this with a message stating it’s from our class, the debate is over: we go down as prank champions. But this can’t happen without you.” Mark was right on about that.

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Being ASB President brought many perks Senior year, and looking back on the experiences I went through makes me thankful I had the position. That being said, the job definitely required a certain un-biased nature towards every school issue that caused school debate. At times, it was difficult to apply the “presidential” face in every discussion with faculty, students I didn’t know very well, and members of the community. I really just wanted to crack jokes in class and speak candidly on school issues, not just MC school assemblies and be the voice behind the daily announcements on the intercom...aha, the intercom. Mark’s plan obviously required someone who knew the school’s intercom code, and while the code was listed in some school manuals that students could access, I was the only student who knew how to make it work, so I had to be the one.

I agreed to help pull the job off without much thought of the consequences that would ensue if we got caught. Mr. Van Winkle (the real principal) had warned during the first week of school that anyone found guilty of committing a senior prank would receive a 2 week suspension, and far worse, not walk at graduation. For some reason, failure never consciously crossed my mind, but instead it drove us to insure that a confessional inquiry would never take place inside Van Winkle’s office.

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The days after our meeting in the parking lot saw Mark and I planning and making decisions about how our idea would come off without a flaw. Almost immediately we decided that since I knew the code, I needed to have an alibi while the prank was being carried out, so he would have to be the one that performed the deed (“Just like free jumping off a skyscraper: you might get caught, but looking back you’d never regret jumping,” I remember him saying). My job was not only to show Mark how to use the access code, but to direct the recon work that was required for success. Every morning I did announcements about the chess club and sports results from a handset in Van Winkle’s office. By testing the same code out on different phones in different buildings every day after classes ended, we discovered a perverted principal could spew disgusting comedy from any phone. I would sit in the lunchroom after last bell, and wait for the daily 3 or 4 “test run” beeps. This meant Mark had typed the code, prompting over the intercom system that an announcement was on the way. After he would get back and tell me he’d made 3 test runs that day, I would tell him I’d heard 3 beeps, and we would jump around like 12 year olds that just won the Little League World Series. These celebrations became a daily ritual for two weeks, as our excitement suddenly turned from “If we could only pull this off...” to “This is absolutely gonna work...”

Once we were confident the message could be delivered from anywhere, we had to decide where it would be carried out from and at what time of the day we would do it. We immediately decided that the ideal time was the middle of 4^th period, simply because everyone is in class between the two lunches. More importantly, Mark was a teacher assistant during this time, and his “slave master” always made a point of running my man all over campus performing her errands: that was the perfect alibi. It was then decided that the teacher’s lounge in the lunch room would became the stage from where the drama would unfold, again because it would be empty during the two lunches.

Some luck – in the form of two stupid freshmen – helped our planning along the way. Because of a prank call from a classroom to the nurse that got them suspended, I found out that each of the phones on campus had built in tracing mechanisms that would give away the location of our message. To combat this, we were forced to “borrow” the phone from the teacher lounge in the Math building, and as Mark and I decided, this would become the phone we’d use. After examining the teacher’s lounge, we decided to disconnect the phone line from that phone, then connect it to the Math phone we now had in our possession. This functioning receiver would be hidden in a nearby drawer along with the $3.00 tape recorder we had since picked up at a garage sale that would relay the message. With this plan in place, Mark and I envisioned a group of administrators running frantically to the Math lounge as Adam Sandler was parading on about “an infectious rash” on his rear, only to find the phone missing, then scurrying all over campus from room to room, only to come across our home base where the “functioning” phone was resting idly on the counter.

With everything going so smoothly, we now had “Ocean’s Eleven” confidence: we couldn’t be stopped. Monday would be go-time.

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Walking into 4^th period, it’s easy to say the perils of the day had me as on edge and as stressed as I’d been during any student body speech, basketball game, or big test. Mr. Merrick had the innate ability of drawing the maximum level of academic fear: the grizzled bald man with his articulately groomed goatee demanded the utmost efforts out of his AP English seniors. If you didn’t perform, he let you know about. Bluntly. If front of everyone.

Knowing that Monday always meant an in-class essay commanding Shakespearean-type mastery of a given topic, the “Oxford West” atmosphere surrounding my four legged desk of horrors was often more than I could handle. And while MacBeth would normally be enough to make me physically ill, it was the uncertainty of what was about to occur that left me trembling. I guess helping orchestrate the greatest senior prank ever was enough reason, but visualizing everyone’s reactions also had me nervous.

Would Carol Bailey, seated to the left of me, fall over laughing hysterically or give a cynical smirk – the type that pierces your high school insecurities of being “stupid” – and dismiss the action altogether? What about Matt Ballou? He had all but booked one of the top G.P.A’s in our senior class, and his business-like demeanor meant he always rolled his eyes and looked the other way when people made dirty jokes. I knew I’d have a fan in Chris Bowman: he was the intellectual stoner with humor who was always laughing at something. The fact he looked ripped today told me I’d have an ally. Just as I began to dissect how incredibly appalled Merrick would be, and the process I’d enduring in making this gag a reality…Exit Shakespeare, cue Adam Sandler*.

MacBeth became a forgotten afterthought. There weren’t just reactions of laughter, or expressions of disgust: just perplexed expressions that knew not one singular emotion. I first looked at Carol, who I could tell wanted to laugh, but her disbelief had temporarily suspended her breathing pattern. Matt Ballou looked like he was watching “Sex In The City” with his great grandmother: he was shook. My boy Chris? Man, just blaze! The paranoid nature of his high was on full display, because he didn’t comprehend the comedy at a fast enough rate. Mr. Merrick? I saw a little smirk initially, trying to stay in the mold of mature superior, but it eventually gave way to laughter. He looked at me sensing my involvement, giving me a nod I still consider as appreciation and respect.

The electricity created continued throughout the school day. The satisfaction that came with pulling off such an elaborate task was only topped by the high of everyone’s curiosity: who had pulled this off? Everyone was in full detective mode, trying to figure out who possessed such gall. As for the administration, people told me they were running around like chickens with their heads cut off trying to find the source. As for any consequences for our actions...simply put, we beat the case like Snoop & Diddy. The fact that both Mark and I had alibis led people to never question our involvement in the prank; in fact, the administration was so clueless as to who could have been the culprit that they never openly questioned anyone. So while we had performed many stunts and tricks on unsuspecting individuals in the past, the fact remains that unless filled in after a long night of drinks, no one knows who performed the Sandler incident, and we consider this our absolute masterpiece of prankdom.

*Sorry it's only a sample, I'll try to find the complete track...

Worthy Left Coast Love

2007-09-28T13:47:00.000-07:00

Seriously, if you haven't checked out Alonzo Weatherby's new blog, then click-click. He's put another outstanding post together, this one documenting the dominating nature of this year's HS senior guards from the West Coast, including Isaiah Thomas (right), the Tacoma product that should be running things at Montlake starting '08-'09.

While recent classes haven't been as strong, Washington has produced a pretty healthy contingent of contributing NBA players in the past 5-10 years. Here's a list of Evergreen State products from that era currently getting played to play:

Jason Terry (Dallas)
HS: Franklin (Seattle) 1995
College: Arizona

Brian Scalabrine (Boston)
HS: Enumclaw 1996
College: USC

Dan Dickau (NY)
HS: Praire (Vancouver) 1997
College: Gonzaga

Jamal Crawford (NY)
HS: Rainier Beach (Seattle) 1999
College: Michigan

Luke Ridnour (Seattle)
HS: Blaine 2000
College: Oregon

Brandon Roy (Portland)
HS: Garfield (Seattle) 2002
College: Washington

Nate Robinson (NY)
HS: Rainier Beach (Seattle) 2002
College: Washington

Aaron Brooks (Houston)
HS: Franklin (Seattle) 2003
College: Oregon

Marvin Williams (Atlanta)
HS: Bremerton 2004
College: North Carolina

Martell Webster (Portland)
HS: Seattle Prep 2005
College: None

Spencer Hawes (Sacramento)
HS: Seattle Prep 2006
College: Washington

Steve Nash - Canada's Savior

2007-09-28T11:38:00.000-07:00

The Canadian Basketball Federation's new CEO says task #1 to building a solid national program is getting Victoria's native son on board:

"It is absolutely imperative that Steve Nash be involved with the Canada Basketball program," Parrish said about the Phoenix Suns' point guard. "We have to have Steve as a part of the team. In my mind, Canada Basketball is not valid if you can't have your two-time NBA MVP involved in the program in some kind of way. I don't know how Steve wants to be involved. But I hope to find that out in the very near term."

Their biggest issue sounds like financing, with an operating budget that is "nowhere near" the 5 million dollars that the Brazilian National Program works with. When USA Basketball probably spends more on their Vegas digs during the Tournament of the Americas than what Canada uses per year, things are probably in pretty bad shape. It's gotta be time to get the 2nd greatest Canadian baller in the loop, as well...

Sonic news and notes about Durant, Doug Christie

2007-09-28T09:42:00.000-07:00

Percy Allen talks about Kevin Durant moving to Seattle, and how he's able to walk around with nobody knowing who he is.

"I'm just a normal guy here," he said. "And I love that."

Doug Christie has also been practicing with the team recently, and all signs point towards him being added to the training camp roster. Maybe they can pry Rick Fox out of his permanent sabbatical to install a little toughness with the Supes, or maybe him and Dougie can just hug it out...

Yes, I got dunked on, and it sucked...

2007-09-27T23:24:00.000-07:00

So, we were talking at the bar after our kickball loss on a number of topics: the merits of "SuperBad" (absolutely amazing...unedited clip, btw), whether this weekend UW frosh QB Jake Locker could treat USC like he treated Syracuse (no), Jessica Alba vs. Scarlett Johansson (Alba, but that's like having 1st choice in a pickup game and taking Kobe over LeBron: they're both pretty nice). But a discussion arose as to what each person's most embarrassing athletic moment ever was, and I felt like I had a capper to end all debate, and I was pretty much right. It was the one-and may I emphasize only-time I got dunked on.

When I was in 9^th grade, I joined an AAU team out of Seattle called the C.A.Y.A. Stars, which at the time was one of the top programs in the nation. With Jason Terry running the point and a bunch of other cats that went on to some small D-1’s and D-II’s, we were loaded. I was the only kid on the team not from the city (Everett is about 30 miles north of Seattle), but at 6’0”, I had pretty decent hops and could play some solid defense, so I had probably made the team on the “hustle” factor.

Anyways, one of my first tournaments with the team was a qualifying tournament for AAU Nationals, and in an early pool play game we went up against a squad of other Seattle kids that was throw-together team called the Miller All-Stars. In warm-ups guys kept talking about this guy named Trevon Hubbard (who was about 6’2”, and ended up in and out of colleges like Fresno State) and that even though we would smack their team, he would probably drop around 40 and get at least one ridiculous bang on somebody. I could tell his hops were pretty crazy, but I got this notion that if he tried to go up on me during the game, I’d get mine.

Fast forward the third quarter. Sure enough, we’re up by about 30, but Trevon has scored about 35 of his team’s points, and had a couple of pretty nice fast break dunks. I had 2 points and maybe 3 or 4 turnovers at this point, so even though we had the lead, personally I wasn’t exactly dripping in confidence. Anyhow, I received an inbounds pass under our basket after Miller had made a bucket, and made what had to have been the worst attempted pass ever on record to JT around mid-court. Trevon intercepted it and wouldn’t you know it, the only thing between him and his path to the rim is a scrawny 6’0” white kid from Suburbia.

While he began to gather his steps for takeoff, I decided that for better or worse, I was gonna challenge him. He ended up jumping off two feet from the dotted, and I couldn’t have timed it any better…we were going to clash. I got about half of my forearm over the rim, but unfortunately for me, after he had cocked it back to his numbers with one hand, he was about eye level with the rim, and just s#&* on me something terrible I'd never seen before. It was basically like this, except my face was between him and the basket. It really, really sucked.

Of course, absolute chaos ensued, with many people mobbing the court like the Vince dunk in that Rucker game from a few years back. I was one of about 3 white guys in the gym, so you know that as a 14 year old from the suburbs trying to prove I belonged on the team, I was traumatized and in absolute shock. I played the rest of the game in a Darko-like haze (accompanied by a hefty bruise under my left eye, courtesy of ball via Travon’s force), and on the drive home after the game, I cried like a newborn child for a solid 15 minutes. Humbling to say the least, and to this day, if I see someone going up to get theirs, I simply move to the side and run down to play offense. I'm not about to end up like poor Fredric Weis:

Thursday Disappointment

2007-09-27T22:48:00.000-07:00

Today was one of those days you wake up giddy with what awaits you. When I was younger, it may have be the trip to Florida I'd been I'd been waiting for weeks to arrive, or that big game against your high school or college rival in hoop that was just hours away. Today, it was kickball championship Thursday, and from 7am on, it consumed my being. Pathetic, you may say, but when you are creeping on 30, and when your avenues of competition are now mainly restricted to games of "Scrabble" and "Settlers of Catan", childish athletic activity gets you a little geeked.

Well, it ended up being pretty anticlimactic, and actually quite depressing. We lost 13-8 to our arch rival Chopper...Kick Balls (please appreciate the "Stand By Me" wordplay), and did so by blowing a 2-run lead in the top half of the last inning. I walked off the field know it was our last game until next spring, which gave me new found respect for how Tim Wakefield must have felt in the Bronx on that fateful October night 4 years ago. The ultimate slap-in-the-face took place following the contest at the sponsor bar, when the other team went straight to the jukebox and played this...pretty much the recreational sports equivalent of an Ocho Cinco TD celebration after winning the Super Bowl. Oh well, guess there's 6 months of Kevin Durant to enjoy to get me through to our next kickball battle. And 6 months of Luke Ridnour bricking 3 after 3 and getting his ass kicked by 29 other NBA PG's...ugh.