From now on

This site is gonna be outrageous--I am taking down all my pictures of friends and making sure no one is hurt in the creation of this blog--

Your favorite team can be a blessing and a curse

This post is going to be a difficult one for some people, but I think you should read it anyway because everyone needs to hear it. As a lifelong fan of the lamentable Buffalo Bills, I can accurately portray sports ignominy. You see, my fan status has both cultivated a cynicism usually reserved for Public School teachers in Harlem, and it has filled me with joys that border on the hysterical.

The first time I watched the Buffalo Bills they lost a shoot out with the Browns in the 1989 playoffs. I was very young, and do not remember anything about the game except that we lost, and I probably cried (it would not be the first time). I was young, but it was my first taste of defeat. The next year my father took an interest in the team, and I still remember that Super Bowl like it happened yesterday.

We were watching the game at a neighbors house across the street. All the chips and soda and pizza put me in a great mood (remember I was seven), and the Bills were playing really well; although, their offense was limited to the estimable 3rd year back Thurman Thomas, since Bill Belichik's Giants defense was confusing the lascivious Jim Kelly (it's another story as to why I choose that adjective to place in front of his name, and I do not want to get bogged down with asides again).


We were leading 12-3 before the Giants slowed the ball down to take it out of the hands of our explosive offense, and it worked as they chewed up a lot of clock right before halftime and we went into the locker room ahead only 12-10. The next half proved to be more of the same as the Giants received the ball and used up another ten minutes scoring a touchdown. The Bills responded with a TD of our own on a Thurman run from 31 yards out just as the 3rd quarter ended. The score: 19-17 Buffalo. The Giants drove again, and ended up kicking a Matt Bahr FG to take a one point lead 20-19. We all know what happened next. We drove the ball to set up a 47 yard FG for Scott Norwood.



I can't even type "wide right" without my eyes welling up a little bit, and my hands getting clammy. It was horrible. There I was, a little seven year old tyke only about a month from my eight birthday, and my world had collapsed a little bit. The cartoon Scott Norwood who misses to the right as he was peeing in the toilet the next day in the comics section only augmented my grief and confusion. Why did the Bills lose? How could the good guys lose? When you are that age any ending but the one you expected forces your naiveté on you. The world is black and white, and the sports teams you care about are always the good guys.

The next three years were just a self-fulfilling prophesy as we lost to Mark Rypien (the Trent Dilfer of his day) and Joe Gibbs of the Redskins, and then Jimmy Johnson ripped us apart with Emmitt Smith, Michael Irvin and Troy Aikman (Nate Newton's embarrassment notwithstanding). As I matured into the blossoming delinquent adolescent that was kicked out of his home, and spent much too much time thinking pot and acid would turn me into a literary pioneer, I would always think back to that initial Super Bowl as the time I really lost all innocence.

You see nothing surprises me on a football field anymore. Once my cherry was popped during Super Bowl XXV, I always go into a Bills season expecting the worse. In this regard, the Bills have not disappointed me. Undersized Doug Flutie convinced me that Flutie Flakes were actually good at my local Wegmans, but he even couldn't overcome the Music City Miracle, and of course this years Monday Night game against Dallas. I expected this and it happened (actually both the music city miracle and the Dallas game in 2007 surprised me, but they shouldn't have). Sometimes, I would fall into old thinking like when we signed Drew Bledsoe and he started lighting teams up on the way Kelly used to, but I didn't see the warning signs with those interceptions, and when he trotted out into Ralph Wilson stadium on the final weekend of the 2004 season, Bledsoe tossed another late game interception (against Pittsburgh's 2nd team defense), and we finished 9-7 and missed the playoffs yet again.

These days with JP Losman and Trent Edwards manning a mediocre team that scratches and claws to make the playoffs, and never does. We have gone 7-9 the last two seasons and the only excitement I feel is for our new Running Back Marshawn Lynch who reminds me a lot of Thurman (sans alcoholism). I feel blah about the team, and they have been disappointing me since I was seven, but I can't ever leave them. They are as much a part of me as any family member, but with a home game being played in Toronto and dwindling attendance, I am worried that senile Ralph Wilson will sell the team to an owner who does not understand the fans and the shit we have gone through. If they left us now, I would be crushed again, and it would be the final crushing blow. I am not sure if I could recover from a move of my favorite boyhood team.

Why I am writing this ode to impotence starring the Buffalo Bills now? Well, I have a group of friends whom are die hard Patriots fan. They bleed Patriots, and they have been having a nice time of it since Belichik has turned them into a dynasty for the last seven years. Now, the latest development has crushed them, and part of me understands where their reluctance to get past it comes from. They could have been 19-0. They had a chance at history, which the Bills never had, but for Christ sakes, did you read the history of my fandom above? I mean I have been disappointed more than enough to at least try and understand where a Patriots fan comes from. Now, I was down in DC where the Boston contingent lives, and they whispered about the game like it was some portentous Karmic mistake to talk about it out loud.

I have a few words for you, and they are not meant to be contrite or mean, but get over yourselves. I mean it. I might have never been on the cusp of history like your Patriots were, but I think my lifetime of disappoint trumps any sob story the recent Super Bowl might have induced. My favorite team lost the Super Bowl 4 times in a row! Think about that. Just think. Again, I want to reiterate that I am not dismissing your trauma, but don't think for a second I feel bad for you. Go watch your THREE Patriots Super Bowl DVD's to console yourself. You know what I do to console myself when the Bills lost a big game (like 4 consecutive Super Bowls for instance), I fuckin' cried and lamented my fate, and cried some more, and basically became a zombie for weeks at a time every time I saw a replay. And this happened four years in a row. No one outside of the Western New York knows how that feels. So, I say, fuck Cubs fans, fuck pre 2004 Red Sox fans, and fuck the fans of the 2007 Patriots who probably had the greatest football team of all time, and just happened to get a few bad breaks in the biggest game.

Again, please do not take this posting the wrong way. I have the utmost respect for the New England Patriots, Tom Brady, their fans, and in particular Bill Belichik, who I secretly covet for the Bills coach and GM spots, but don't ever get angry with me for bringing up this Super Bowl, because I have withstood more Scott Norwood jokes then is humanly possible, and you don't see me flying off the handle every time those four years are brought up. Now, a couple of weeks should be a enough time for my Boston friends to recover their dignity and take their ribbing like the men I know them to be. You guys still have the most dominant franchise in place, and at least three to five more years where you are the best team in the league. You will be there again. You might not be undefeated, but you will win another Super Bowl. I think this past Giants victory at the hands of Eli "Yokel" Manning probably provided you with a dose of humility that will make you better people. I'd like to think this might even be a blessing in disguise for your fan base and for your team's fortunes. Lady Luck will be back on your side again next year, and I look forward to seeing that New England team dominate again...just so long as it is not against my beloved Bills. Remember, you have these two guys and no one else does.

We interupt the regularly scheduled program to bring you a word from our sponsers

The new post is below the pean to CPBG. Some of the knuckleheads who read this shit faster than I can write it will probably complain that I did not update tonight, but it is just showing up lower than the CPBG post since I started it a few nights ago.

Cleveland Park Bar and Grill

What a weekend. I was in Washington DC this past Presidents Day Weekend, and all I can say about the experience is: "Wow."

I really wanted to use my Saturday night as a microcosm of Washington DC, both in the set-up of the bar, the people I was drinking with, and the overall attitude I garner when I go back there to party.

Cleveland Park Bar and Grill is a relatively new establishment in, you guessed it, Cleveland Park, which is between Adams Morgan and Van Ness in the Upper NorthWest of Washington DC. The stretch of bars along the East side of the street used to be my old stomping grounds when I lived in Van Ness, and even though some of the shadier establishments have since been renovated, it still packs a punch.

Aroma company, the Four P's (I refuse to call it the 4 Fields), Nanny's, and of course Park Bench Pub. Park Bench Pub used to be owned in collusion with Bricks' Tavern, which is now the Cleveland Park Bar and Grill. When I discussed renovations--Brick's Tavern to CPBG is what I had in mind. It brings gentrification to a nice level.


I used to go to Park Bench back in the day when they would pack kids in for college basketball games. It is there where I saw my only victory as a sports fan when Carmelo won a title with Syracuse. I was prevented from starting shit with Kansas fans because I was just with a girl (a very very dumb girl who rewarded my fine night in the elevator back at my building). Anyway, Park Bench was fun, and it is no coincidence that I learned later Dave (of Passport Bar fame) actually was a co-owner. Therefore, it was still no surprise when this fine establishment went under since Dave was a code word for sheisty bar owner. I could spend an entire blog on Dave since my girlfriend used to work for him, and Voldemort and I used to go into the back of Passport at least once a week Sophomore year of college.

But, this posting is supposed to be a reverential song of praise for CPBG. A pean for the Cleveland Park Bar and Grill. This is not to say the bar is infallible. My old girlfriend used to work there, and a girl who once peed in Voldemort's bed also worked there for quite some time, but we have out-lasted both of those vestiges, and their memories only add character to this fine establishment.

Brick's Tavern used to be an alright stop for a ball game and a beer, but once the old owners (Dave) went bankrupt or went to jail (the possibilities exist for both), new ownership came in and turned it into a haven for the upwardly mobile 20 somethings who flock to Cleveland Park like hipsters flock to Williamsburg. In truth it was the perfect fit for what was happening to DC right in front of my eyes. It became a lot more yuppy, and so the bars had to accomodate those yuppies, so they devised a safe alternative to the Adams Morgan dangers that scare so many white people from Arlington away. Cleveland Park was safe, but it still had the edge of being inside the beltway.

The inside of the newly furnished CPBG has wood floors with enamol on top to provide a touch of sitting beside the fire. The wood-baked pizzas only augment this feeling especially on a Sunday during football season when the fire is like an inferno, and everything smells like football. The bar sits across the leftside wall, and it is surprisingly easier to order drinks than you would think. This opening set up is nice, but the roof deck is what truly turns it into Cleveland Park's finest. Not unlike Adam Morgan's trendy Reef bar, CPBG has its own deck. Finding it makes one think of Labrynth. You walk past the bar and the initial dining room, past the wood-fired kitchen, past the spacious bathrooms (unfortunately with only one urinal and a stall whose door does not shut all the way, and then up some cavernous stairs until you reach another long stairwell up another couple of steps and you are on the CPBG deck.

I will tell a quick story which has the roof deck as the main character. I took some boomers with RubeyTuesday and Voldemort and after watching a movie, we casually strolled through the back streets of Washington DC. We finally ended up at Connecticut Avenue, and decided to get a brew at CPBG. Now, these boomers were fun, but no one was really freaking out on them, just giggly and mellow. We got to the roof deck, and ordered some shots, and Belgian Blue Moon with an orange peel--one of our favorites (no I will not make my ourageous claim as to the orange peel and how I orginated it). We sat, and watched the sun set as the deck overlooks the western horizon. The Vista was incredible with the beers and the mushrooms sort of coming in waves. The air wasn't dank as some DC summers can be, but brisk without being overbearing. It was perfect. We watched the sunset go all the way past our ken, and moved on to taking shots, ordering an egg pizza (which you must try), and generally getting rowdy on a Saturday afternoon. This is what CPBG means.

Now, I could load this posting with cryptic references to the movie opening Voldemort and I saw, or shenangians that transpired this past weekend in the upstairs bathroom, or the inconvenience of teh stall and what this means for drug takers, but I really want to make this BLOOOGGGG more accessible to those who do not down Jameson with me every weekend. Since most of my readers do this, I am trying to say you need to get the word out. I am much too much of a silly doofus in regards to marketing myself, and I don't take blogging seriously enough that I can recommend it to people other than my friends, but if you are bored at work, and want to read the occasional posting--do indulge.

I have more to add about this past weekend, so keep checking, and I will see you soon...or not.

What's Important in Life (be advised first image is shocking)

This first picture has absolutely nothing to do with the blog posting, but the second one does.




Material Things that are important in life:
A solid piece of glass to smoke with
A money clip or wallet to keep your shit in
A coffee table
nice, fluffy expensive toilet paper
A supply of Vitamin Water flavor: Revive
A laptop
shot glasses
low ball glasses
single malt Scotch no less than 25 years old
there are many more things, but I am boring myself

Now, I was going to make some comment about how all these things are actually superfluous, and there are other things which are more important, but then I thought about it for a few minutes (I took Ritalin today so I can think about one subject for longer than a minute), and I realized that there is only one thing in life that I absolutely, positively cannot live without...and that's pussy.

Now, I know, I know, I am in love with someone, but contrary to popular belief you do not need love to live. It's nice, and I thoroughly enjoy it, but I was surviving (by a thread) without my girl. Anyone who has ever been in love knows that there is nothing like it in the world, but if you come to rely on it as a crutch for your own persona, then you and the person you love will never make it. You need something else you are good at or that interests you, which is apart from that. I like to write, and even though I don't get to do it nearly enough, it helps me cope with those injustices that bitch called Life throws my way.

So, you could make the case that writing is all I need in life, and to live without it would be to cut off the very lifeblood of who I am. There's a problem with this idea as well. I can always write. Not sure which movie it was, but I believe James Woods played the Marquis De Sade and he fuckin' wrote with his own fecal matter, so you will never extinguish a writer. But, I am losing track of my argument (Ritalin is wearing off), which is that writing is not the most important thing in my life, and whatever hobby or talent or whatever you consider integral to who you are, that is also not the most important thing in life. We are left to ponder that word which encompasses so much, and which I mentioned in the above paragraph: pussy.

I could not live without fucking. I am heterosexual, so fucking involves a pussy. I am not using pussy because it is uncouth, quite the contrary, I find the term quite mellifluous. For my girl it would be cock. Now, this probably seems like some indulgent exercise, but I truly believe that all people from all walks of life, feel this way. They want to please someone, and in turn they want to be pleased, and sex is the easiest way to do this. This has been true since the advent of the Homo-Sapian or whatever man/monkey we spawned from. One of the shocking things I always think about is the Virgin Mary. This is going to be a quick aside, but I will get to my point at the end.

As anyone who has read the Bible or the Torah or any religious text knows, some of that shit is just plain wrong. Noah's sons lived to be thousands of years old, and unless you have learned the ancient breathing techniques of Tom Robbins' imagination in Jitterbug Perfume you cannot live much longer than 100 years. If you are like me that final number might be even lower. Anyway, you know that most of the religious literaturee is pretty bunk or at least tests your faith, which I guess is the point. Anyway, I never really bought into this whole thing, but since I was raised Catholic and the story of Jesus' birth was ingrained in my head for so long, I got to thinking about this Virgin Mary business.

I have no philosophical beef with the idea of the Madonna "my mother" as a chaste woman who gives birth to the Lords Son. But, if Mary is really impregnated by God the analogies to Homer's Zeus and all the corporeal women he impregnated are astounding, and the apostles are plagiarizing from "Homes" Homer. That aside within the aside aside, it is ridiculous to think that someone was given an immaculate conception. Also, did Mary stop (or start if you think it was immaculate) having sex with Joseph after Rickey Bobby's little baby Jesus was born? Mary is human, so she must have fucked Joseph after the kid, or is she like Brooke Shields and had postpartum depression and was too depressed at giving birth to GOD'S FREAKIN' SON, that she refused to hop back [sic?] on Joseph's big dick? I am guessing that Joseph and her started fuckin' the moment they took their vows. They had one kid JC (the only way you can) but something went wrong when some strangers, who were handling possibly poisonous resin from strange Eastern lands (wise men?), started groping her va va and she was infected and was never able to have kids again. That is the only plausible set of events that could occur if not to say that Mary didn't pop another kid out because "gasp" she had some sex with her husband again and Jesus had a young brother he used to pick on. What on earth does this have to do with what's important in life, well Mary fucked Joseph and out popped Jesus and the world would never be the same.

This is probably a more accurate representation of the Virgin Mary and anyone who has seen Gia or Original Sin knows, she is no virgin


The point is that everybody wants to fuck. It's the same thing as the greatest potty training book of all time: "Everybody Poops." Everybody wants to fuck. It is part of that reptilian brain stem that drives the Id. Fucking is the most basic and primal of urges, which makes it dangerous and also the most valuable thing we have. Have you ever not have sex for a while? Well, I dated long distance over the last year, and it is no picnic. I was cranky and irritable, and I got into constant skirmishes with my roommates. I started to get OCD about my room, and I was basically stoned from the time I left work till the morning later when I showered for work so I wouldn't have to think about the lack of pussy. I was constantly drinking Scotch and not the happiest of drunks. Actually, I drink a lot of Scotch now, but I am happy because I am living with my girl. Anyway, the one missing ingredient, you could argue, was the love of my life by my side. That would make absolute sense, and in some ways it did. I missed talking and hanging out with her and pointing out the inherent genius behind the Real World/Road Rules Gauntlet Challenge. But, I am not gonna lie and say that the moment we saw each other after a two or three or four week break, we ddn't rip each others clothes off and fuck like crazed lunatics. That was the one thing both of us missed the most. I am guessing that the majority of long distance couples feel the same way.

Fucking is life. Now, earlier I said I could live without love, but not without fucking. I was being serious but there is a caveat to that statement, and that is because I am actually in love right now. I have a tangible love that I can touch and speak with and actually fuck. It is not abstract love. It is something I have the pleasure of experiencing all the time. But, not everyone is in love. In fact, I would guess that most of my friends may have never been in love up till this point. This is not to say there is something wrong with them, just that they have been either lucky or unlucky depending on the way you look at it (do you want to fall in love early and miss out on playing the field, or do you want to fall in love late and question whether it will ever happen and possibly end up alone?). Those who have never been in love still think about love in the abstract. So, when I say I can live without love, I mean in the abstract way we think about it when we are not in love with someone. Right now, I cannot imagine my life without my girl and I am in love with her, but I understand what that term means to someone who is single (a specter). Now, I say this knowing full well that my girl is going to read it, but we both agree that sex is a very important facet of being in love. If we stopped being attracted to each other, then it would be over. It means that fucking is no longer a part of us, and we couldn't keep it up. Sex is not everything, but once it is gone, then the relationship is gone.

Now, to place such an emphasis on fucking within the context of a relationship can be too much for a long term relationship to bear, but that just means you can't handle it, and it wasn't gonna happen in the first place. It seems crude and even a little uncultured to use pussy or fucking as the most important thing in life, but it is. It is the crux of a relationship, makes people happier, it is the event (or lack thereof) which Western Culture holds as one of it's more endearing and powerful myths, and for a large percentage of the American homophobic culture, it is the catalyst of so much hate and venom simply because certain people are fucking the incorrect sex. It is how we identify ourselves. It creates families. It is an act of art. Go ahead and tell me different. Fucking is the most important thing in life. Now, I gotta go fuck my girlfriend so I don't get cranky before bed.
Peace

Solipsism Unplugged...ironically...since it is for you....

Be honest with yourselves. Brutally honest. Really think about it. You are the most important person in the world. You are what matters. No one is completely selfless except our mothers. Everyone with even half a back bone is gonna think of themselves first, and why the fuck shouldn't we? Have you ever heard of the expression: "handle your business!" Well I think it's what a pushy woman said when I had coke dick in college, but I am using it to reveal the truth of human nature.

We are all Wolf Larson. If you don't know who that is, and many of you will not, then get on fuckin' google and look that shit up. Anyways, we are the Ubermensh. We are in a crazy fucked up world, and you gotta look out for #1: yourself. I know, I know that normal Judea-Christian theology is that the meek shall inherit the earth, but have you ever looked upon a meek person and ever thought they were going to take over the world? Me neither. Be strong, not righteous, and leave behind those who should be left behind, and if you are about to be left behind, then you better scratch and claw so you aren't. What's that scratching and clawing? Life bitches, life.

Don't pander. Don't lament what could have been. Don't whine or else Wolf Larson will feed you to the Sharks. Want to know who a Shark is? It's me and that guy over there. We will eat you, and if we can, each other. Get the picture? Don't rely on anyone or anything but yourself. Do you think anyone truly and deeply gives a fuck about you or what you are doing? Well, maybe a lover or a parent somewhere does, but that is mainly because your success helps them feel good. Pretty pessimistic thought right? Well, I don't care because I am the only person in the world that matters. I am me, and no one is taking that away. Seems a bit challenging right? Well, that's because no on else really matters and that's a scary fuckin' thought, but you better get used to it, or get used to having your thigh ripped apart by my big strong fuckin' teeth.


Sincerely yours,
I.M. Power




BE LEERY OF THE BITE!

3:10 to Yuma--the great western of romanticism

My girlfriend didn't like 3:10 to Yuma. If you have never seen it and plan to, please stop reading. My girlfriend thought the ending was too idealistic. I don't think she described her feelings this way, since we never discuss movies or art like we were characters on Dawson's Creek, but I cann say she did not like it. She thought it was unrealistic that Russell Crowe's character would help Christian Bale's character get him on the train, and then gun down his entire gang once Christian Bale's character is shot in the back. I thought it was incredible.

You see there is a point during the movie when Russell Crowe's character says: '"You ever read the bible, Dan? I read it one time. I was eight years old. My daddy just got hisself killed over a shot of whiskey and my mama said 'we're going back East to start over.' So she gave me a bible, sat me down in the train station, told me to read it. She was gonna get our tickets. Well, I did what she said. I read that bible from cover to cover. It took me three days. She never came back."' That whole story sums up Ben Wade and the romantic, Byronesque figure he represents. Voldemort, who recommended the movie, would never describe him that way, he would say: "He is fuckin' badass and no one fucks with him." In a lot of ways that is a more apt description of Russell Crowe's character, but there is a poetic way that figure can be represented, and this movie does just that.

There is a moment when Ben Wade is proclaiming himself as a bad man, and he says the one thing he fears is the look on a man's face once you have helped him because you'll never want to stop helping people ever again. Ben Wade is an outlaw, and a very bad man who has killed many, but he is also a figure of nobility in that he won't shoot a man who is down, or a man in the back. He is regal and honorable in his rebelliousness. He is the ultimate in evil and the ultimate in truth, and in the end he could not withstand Dan's plaintive cry for help. My girl just hated that sappy shit.

3:10 to Yuma is Unforgiven except that instead of Clint Eastwood's character you have Christian Bale and Russell Crowe's characters who represent the early and late Eastwood of Unforgiven. I only mention this analogy because my girlfriend exclaimed in disgust after we watched it: "It's no Unforgiven," when in fact I it was. The brave vs. the cowardly, the chaos of the old west vs. the maturity of American's Manifest Destiny, the outlaw vs. the sheriff etc. It's all there and it's what makes Westerns and especially 3:10 to Yuma so good.

Now, I am not going to pretend that I didn't like the conclusion because it tapped into some weird psychological phenomenon about movies of this nature that leaves me feeling unsatisfactory if some major character doesn't die, and some other flawed character does the righteous thing at the perfect time. My girlfriend does not go with the masses and wants 3:10 to Yuma to end realistically where Dan (Christian Bale's character) gets murdered by the murderer (Crowe), but I am not prone to look for the realistic when the romantic leaves me feeling better. It's why I never particularly liked Empire Strikes Back, even though intellectually I can appreciate the aesthetic quality of it, it can never be my favorite because good did not overcome evil. The traditional archetypes are in my head and when they do not come together the way I want them too, I feel less impassioned for them.

The stunning irony of all this is that The Wire, is the exact antithesis of this ending. I love The Wire, but it runs in stark contrast to the ending to 3:10 to Yuma, and I am not surer why I like one and the other. Nothing is solved in the Wire, it is merely shown. It's like great writing; things are shown not explained. The producer or writer doesn't need to tell you what is happening he needs to show you. The reader or the viewer is left to interpret those images the way they want. An ending like 3:10 to Yuma redeems Russell Crowe's character, which most viewers are happy about, but for someone like my girlfriend that answer is much too convenient and she feels cheated. I understand this, but damn did I love that movie. Shit, now I gotta go return it.

Boondock Saints--A Primer to: Overnight

Peep it on the Independent Film Channel. The Making of a real life Horatio Alger character, Troy Duffy of Boondock Saints fame. He wrote and directed it, and once I watch with Renews, I will learn how he lost it all angering the Weinstein brothers and blighting any chance for a sequel to that incredible film. This is just a quick brief, so that I have something to allude to when I see those four people who read this.

Shaq and Pau: a different perspective

Shaquille O'Neal was traded to the Phoenix Suns, and Pau Gasol was traded to the Los Angeles Lakers, and the media has been talking about it ad nauseam. Now, I know that most pundits agree the Gasol trade was a steal on the Lakers part, and now they are legitimate contenders for the title; especially, when Andrew Bynum comes back from his knee problem. Conversely, most pundits agree that Phoenix made a mistake trading the Matrix for an over the hill Shaq.

I don't agree with anyone. I don't think either of these trades significantly alters anything. I still think that San Antonio (when healthy) is still the champion and any of these contenders will have to go through a Tim Duncan that is still the best big man in the game. I still think that Boston and Detroit are the only challengers in the East (Lebron will not have another opportunity to get into the finals). Let me explain why the Pau trade, and the Shaq trade will have very little to do with determining the outcome of the championship.

First, let me expel a myth: Pau Gasol is not an all star. He was the best player on what used to be a mediocore Western Conference team that turned terrible in the last couple of seasons, but they never won a playoff game. Say what you want about Tracy McGrady or Kevin Garnett never doing anything in the playoffs (sort of a misnomer since Garnettt did make the Western Conference Finals with Spree and the Alien), but at least both of them actually won "A" playoff game. Pau never has...ever. That is not an all star.

Pau is soft. He is European, so that has something to do with it, but those Grizzlies teams were coached by a very underrated Mike Fratello, and that is how they won fifty games and even made the playoffs. Once you are in the playoffs though, it is up to your best players to win the game, and Pau never did that. Between, 2004-2006 Fratetllo took an overachieving Grizzlies to the playoffs each year, and each year they were expunged without winning a single game. They didn't win one game. Think about that. Pau was their best player. So my point? He has never won anything in the NBA playoffs, and that makes a difference. Do I think the Lakers are better? Of course, Kwame might one day go down as the worst #1 draft choice since Michael Olowakandie came out of Pacific and became a Clipper, so anyone is an upgrade over a head case like that, but they are still not the favorites--at least in my book. Kobe Bryant is one year away with this supporting case (which dwarfs any team Jordan got).

My $1,000,000 prediction for the new Lakers: a second round playoff exit to our next team.

On to the big fella. Shaquille O'Neal is quite possibly the most maligned big man in the history of professional basketball. When he was with the Magic, it was about the free throws. When he was with the Lakers it was about not working hard in the off season to keep the wweight down, and not being able to hit free throws. When he was with Miami, it was about being too old, getting into foul trouble early, and not hitting his free throws. Now, he is about to be 36 years old and into his 16th year as a pro, so he has logged a lot of minutes on his feet. He is tired, and he's become satisfied. He is one of the greatest players of all time, with four rings, and the only thing he has left is too win one more ring than Duncan.

He is gonna do it, but I thought that Phoenix would win it before they got Shaq. I know this was supposed to be a different view of these two trades, and I know that Scoop from ESPN has already predicted the same thing, but I actually think Shaq will play a significant role in that championship run. He will overcome Pau, Bynum (ludicrously labeled Baby Shaq), and finally Duncan. He will beat the rejuvenated Celtics in the finals, and Kevin Garnett and Steve Nash will cry for completely different reasons. Shaq won't touch the ball very much on offense, except when teams forget to collapse on him, but Amare will blossom into a force, and Steve Nash will continue to be Steve Nash while Boris Diaw becomes the Boris Diaw of a year and a half ago when he dropped 36 including the game winner in the playoffs. You know who never dropped 36 in the playoffs: that's right, Pau Gasol.

Which guy do you think looks more like a champion? The guy who headlines this post, or this guy?



I understand that Kobe changes everything, and that Shaq can't move at all anymore, but never underestimate the pride of a divorced big man, whose career gets one more chance at being a champion. Phoenix is the place, and this is the year. You heard it here first. I know this is not exactly going out on a limb, but at the same it is, since Shaq looks like a geriatric and the Suns are a sprinter on HGH. Have faith, it will happen.

--Tyrel the Tylenol