It’s funny how people get so caught up in the chase for history. Every time people see me, they start asking: “Are they going to do it?” “Is it going to happen?” “Who would win if they played today?” Of course, you know what I’m talking about. It involves winning, a Curry and something that hasn’t been done since the mid-1990s. But I mean, it’s almost getting boring now. Everybody knows that Denver Nuggets guard Will Barton can make history by becoming the first player from
By this point in the season, every NBA fan on the planet has religiously read each one of my Most Improved Player rankings and my Sixth Man columns (probably). You all know what I, U.S. citizen Kels Dayton, think of the most impact players in the NBA in those two categories. And while my opinion is certainly meaningful and important, I am but one citizen in this great nation. I’m also an informed citizen who likes to make informed decisions when it comes
Allen Iverson once said he would rather retire than come off the bench. So, I guess he’s not reading this column. And while that certainly hurts (I loved you, A.I.), it’s not going to stop me from practicing my craft here. We talkin’ ’bout practice. PRAC—TICE. Something that you do to get better. Ah, forget it. It takes a special type of player to adapt to coming off the bench. Several guys, who we threw under the bus—er—uh, mentioned in our Most Improved Player Rankings
This column is soft. Every other week, we talk about the Most Improved Players in the league like we’re a modern-day Little League. We’re always telling everyone how great they are and giving them Fruit Roll-Ups, and letting them draw dinosaurs in the infield dirt during the game because they’re just creative and artistic and they’ll grow out of it and “everybody gets a trophy because look at how much you’ve improved!” Well, I’m sick of it. It’s time to come down hard on
Some people perform best when there’s not as much pressure. You know, like when they’re not hearing their name and educational history shouted by an overzealous announcer in front of thousands of screaming fans. When they aren’t expected to “dab” or “quan-quan” as they greet their teammates after said introductions. Or when they don’t have to high-five the mascot on their way out to the center court, dap up their homies on the opposing team and listen to confrontational non-sequitors from Joey Crawford before tip-off. Don’t start
This man’s greatness inspired a poem. I’d like to start this column off by paying tribute to a true basketball hero. I couldn’t express his greatness in column form, so I wrote a poem. I hope you’ll oblige. Dim the lights please. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhem. Ahhhem. Ahhhhh. Here we go: (Bongos playing) Dreary. Locker room smell. Sweaty socks. He walks in, authoritative. A Pelican no more. Scored 14 points in first game back. Tripled win total. There’s now hope where the bell tolls. Hope, and hoagies. (Bongos stop) Thank you. [Read more…]
Usually, people like awards. They’re shiny and sometimes gold. You get to keep them and hang them on your wall, and then “accidentally” bump into them when your grandma comes over, so she can say “Careful!” and then “Ooh, what’s that?,” and you can tell her about how awesome you are. Sometimes, you get to stand up in front of other people and give speeches when you win an award. You can say motivational things like, “You the Real MVP!” and get moved to
Larry Brown was like your grandfather. Or at least, that’s how everyone around college basketball described him. He was an unchallenged legend, revered as one of the game’s great teachers, a man who could parachute in to an irrelevant program in a borderline-irrelevant conference and turn it into a budding basketball hotbed. He was old (75), small, gentle and soft-spoken. He wore little circle glasses, paced around nervously and looked and acted like an English Lit professor. He talked constantly about teaching kids, teaching