Archive for the ‘Random’ Category

I am just going to go out on a limb and guess that “the 1 secret that can keep you from going broke” is to not say yes every time your friends propose one of their business ideas while trying to guilt you in to saying yes. I’m no Dave Ramsey but that seems like a solid place to start.

But don’t take my advice. Listen to the guy who blew $110 million in 14 years. He knows what’s up.

(via Aron Phillips)

In addition to the recent list of possible D-League call-ups, there exist many other veteran free agents who could help an NBA team as a midseason pick-up. In light of 10-day contracts becoming available to use as of next week, here’s an unnecessary, emphatic list of some possible ones.

It’s important to note that only free agents are listed here, not all non-NBA players. So as much fun as it would be to list the likes of Eddy Curry and Quincy Douby — who this week combined for 95 points in a Chinese league game — they’re taken.


Carlos Arroyo – Out of the league for nearly two years, Arroyo is no less of an NBA player now than when he was in it. However, having declined steadily since 2005, his place within it was already tenuous. Arroyo is reportedly about to sign to Turkish team Galatasaray, where he’ll need to show improvement to be seriously considered in the NBA again.

Mike Bibby – Having fallen away dramatically in the last three seasons, Bibby achieved something difficult last season when he made the Knicks roster as a shooting specialist who couldn’t shoot. His career numbers suggest this was an outlier, yet after back to back poor seasons, Bibby will find it tough to make it back to the league.

Earl Boykins – Boykins was a rare veteran presence on a young Rockets team last season, where he showed the usual Boykins package: no fear, plenty of long twos, and a desperate need to prove himself as a scorer. He was adequate in his backup role, and was a good NBA player as recently as the 2010-11 season, but his age (36) might be the death knell.

Anthony Carter – Carter will inevitably go on to coach, yet he still believes he can contribute as an NBA player. The statistics do not reconcile with this belief, and haven’t done since 2008, yet perception is a much more important resource. “Coach on the floor,” et cetera.

Antonio Daniels – In 2011, Daniels proved you’re never too old to use the D-League as a gateway back to the NBA, getting a late call-up to the 76ers from the Texas Legends. In 2012, he posted 8.7 apg for the Legends, but couldn’t do the same again. And in 2013, Daniels is trying to lose 10,000 lbs.

Baron Davis – Davis tore his ACL last year, the latest in a decade’s worth of serious injuries. But he showed enough before the injury to warrant another look when he’s healthy again.

Derek Fisher – Fisher asked to be released by the Mavericks so that he could be nearer his family in Los Angeles. So he’s pretty much only an option for the Clippers and Lakers. Or the Sparks.

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CHICAGO, Illinois — Mess with a Bull, you get the horns.

Just ask Ersan Ilyasova who survived a Bull attack Monday night in Chicago.

The 25-year-old professional athlete was ferociously attacked on the upper right arm by an angry, half-tonne Aberdeen-Boozer breed from Alaska while collecting rebounds — and rock samples — for the Milwaukee Bucks.

Ilyasova and four male co-workers encountered the Bull with about 10 seconds remaining in the fourth quarter of action in the United Center.

Ilyasova said he leapt for a rebound, which, in turn, must have triggered the Bull’s aggressive reaction.

“It started flailing wildly when it saw the basketball, and then it jumped on my arm,” Ilyasova told FOX Sports Wisconsin.

“I’m very lucky to be alive, I know that.”

The wild Bull then ran through three rows of chairs, charged two security officers, and rammed into Tom Thibodeau’s car in an underground parking lot.

It took four bullets an amnesty clause to kill it.

Good luck beating my personal high for how long I could listen to this computer reading Michael Olowokandi’s entire Wikipedia entry before turning it off.

Now maybe you are thinking I’ve wasted 63 seconds of my life, but I now know that Michael Olowokandi played rugby union before he became a basketball player. So maybe you are right. But still, try to beat my high score and leave yours in the comments. And if you have an explanation for why this exists, I’d love to hear that too.

It’s going to be tough to top Kris Humphries comparing the waiving of a no-trade clause to deciding whether or not to save a drowning baby, but Greg Anthony likening a point guard being well-liked by his teammates to women who can’t keep a boyfriend is a pretty strong entry in the Worst NBA Analogy of 2012 contest. If Ernie Johnson can’t sell your joke, it must be really bad.

The only thing that could make this better is Lamar Odom pulling off an over-the-head-while-sliding-back dribble, but he’s kind of busy relearning how to regular dribble so we can let that one go. Otherwise, I’m enjoying the NBA’s holiday ad, “BIG: Color,” which is due to start running tomorrow night and will coincide with the release of the one-color Winter Court jerseys that you’ll see on a bunch of teams this holiday season.

For a follow-up, I’m hoping the league calls back every NBA player who has ever had the word “dog” in their nickname — including Antoine Carr, Glenn Robinson and Jerome Williams, among others — and gets them to bark out “Jingle Bells.” It’s an idea that’s just crazy enough that it might work.

The flight of the Pixie Point Guards

Andrew Rafner is a recently liberated fan and writer from Los Angeles. He owns two Sasha Vujacic jerseys and isn’t sorry about it.

You know the girls in those cloyingly sensitive, quirky indie-leaning rom-coms? The ones whose quotes of Belle & Sebastian lyrics (mostly from “Tigermilk”) and floral tattoos and hand-knitted mix CDs and perfectly blunt bangs usually belie some kind of deep-seated childhood trauma that forces them to act like a hyperactive seventh grader-slash-human Care Bear? The ones who have inspired lengthy Onion AV Club articles and parody videos?

The ones that seem to unexpectedly fall from the sky in a poorly executed meet-cute 15 minutes into the movie and swoop the beleaguered and downtrodden cardigan wearing 20-something from his bleak and stark existence and thrust him into a world full of urban scavenger hunts and vintage sundresses and undiagnosed borderline personality disorders? Yeah. Them. They’re called Manic Pixie Dream Girls and while I like to think they are the scourges of the cinematic earth, it is hard to not admit that they have become quite the powerful stock character in Hollywood over the last decade or so.

A similar thing has happened in the NBA, except the rise of the Pixie Point Guard has been met with hordes of fans of the game buckling at the knees and feeling giddy for their devotion to the idea that the only rule for them is that there are no rules. And unlike the Manic Pixie Dream Girl, who’s ultimate goal is to possess and consume the soul of the boy they force to fall in love with them via their sticker collection, the Pixie Point Guard represents the best thing in the world being even better than it seems.

You could say we’re in the middle of a positional revolution in the NBA. Many have. The Miami Heat won a championship last year with Chris Bosh as their starting center. Not to mention the team that they beat, the Oklahoma City Thunder, played Kevin Durant at power forward quite a bit during the series. Now, don’t get me wrong, KD is my favorite player in the NBA, but he’s got the muscle tone and definition of a streetlamp. Tough, but fair.

This crazy positional Dadaism is running rampant all over the league. J.J. Hickson is slotted to be the starting center in Portland, Pacers forward/guard/center/human person Paul George grows and shrinks between four and six inches at will, and I have long contended that the center position itself is a dying commodity in the NBA. I mean, how many true top tier fives are there in this league? Three? Maybe four?

But the long, ghastly death rattle of the 21st century center aside, the most lovable and delightful creatures to rise from the seismic ripping apart of the fabric of NBA positional acceptability is the Pixie Point Guard. Even if you don’t know what I am talking about, you know what I’m talking about: sprightly, kind of woodland elfish and dizzyingly quick. The guys who don’t just control the ball and passively run an offense, like your Mario Chalmerses and Raymond Feltons, but dissect defenses with precision passing and often times head-exploding and 30-second-replay-inducing dribble moves. And most importantly — joy. Pixie Point Guards play with pure joy.

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