Saturday, April 21, 2007
Monday, April 16, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
MORE NBA MAILBAG
After the Gold Rush co-founder Zupan Jam weighed in on my NBA starting five:
"The only weakness really lies with Mr. Prince. I would consider replacing him with Shawn Marion or Gerald Wallace. They are (nearly) as good defenders and they have more offensive firepower."
ZP, I like your picks of Shawn Marion and Gerald Wallace. Both are great long-limbed defenders with lots and lots of ups. I thought about both of these guys for my starting five but settled on Prince because his skills are a better fit for a half-court offense. In my estimation, he's the superior passer, ballhandler and shooter of the bunch (though he doesn't shoot enough). Marion is an exceptional finisher, and Wallace is absolutely fearless in taking it to the rack, which is why he gets injured so much. But, I just don't see them being as useful in a structured offense.
Iguodola is an interesting choice, and may end up being the superior player to Prince on both ends of the floor. Some would argue that he's already there. But he still lacks a consistent jump shot and hasn't proven himself as a winner.
After the Gold Rush co-founder Zupan Jam weighed in on my NBA starting five:
"The only weakness really lies with Mr. Prince. I would consider replacing him with Shawn Marion or Gerald Wallace. They are (nearly) as good defenders and they have more offensive firepower."
ZP, I like your picks of Shawn Marion and Gerald Wallace. Both are great long-limbed defenders with lots and lots of ups. I thought about both of these guys for my starting five but settled on Prince because his skills are a better fit for a half-court offense. In my estimation, he's the superior passer, ballhandler and shooter of the bunch (though he doesn't shoot enough). Marion is an exceptional finisher, and Wallace is absolutely fearless in taking it to the rack, which is why he gets injured so much. But, I just don't see them being as useful in a structured offense.
Iguodola is an interesting choice, and may end up being the superior player to Prince on both ends of the floor. Some would argue that he's already there. But he still lacks a consistent jump shot and hasn't proven himself as a winner.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Mr. Hart,
Thank you for your feedback. I appreciate your interest in the blog. First, I want to make sure that you understand that I have picked guys who I think would make the best "team," not which guys I think are the best players at their respective positions. I agree with you that Nash is the best point guard in the NBA (although he's not young like you say -- he's 33, almost two years older than Billups), and that Lebron is the best small forward. Here's why they didn't make my team and Prince and Billups did:
1. Defense wins championships. I have assembled what I view to be a lock down defensive unit. Prince (and his seven-foot wingspan) is one of the two or three best perimeter defenders in the league, with Artest and Bowen. But, he presents less of a risk to commit murder than Artest, and is more offensively skilled than Bowen. He would be assigned to the opposing team's best offensive player, which would allow Kobe to focus more on his offensive game...much like the Scottie Pippen did for Michael Jordan. Duncan and KG are both 1st team all-defensive players on the inside, and Billups is the best defensive point guard in the league, without question. Kidd is comparable, but is hampered by bad knees. This group would simply demoralize teams on the defensive end.
Lebron and Nash are average to below-average defensive players for their positions (check out their scouting reports on ESPN.com). This team has plenty of offense (about 90 points) with just Billups, Kobe, Duncan, and KG. Adding another offensive dynamo has drastically diminishing returns, and would only screw up the chemistry.
2. On that note, chemistry. Since Kobe (as much as I hate to admit it) is the greatest offensive force/clutch performer since Jordan, I decided to build the team around him. Of course, he's not an easy guy to play with, so I had to pick players with whom he would jive. Billups, Prince, KG and Duncan fit the bill because they are unselfish and would never gripe about Kobe's 30 shots. At the same time, none of them would cower under Kobe's dominating personality a la Lamar Odom.
Again, Lebron, T-mac, Pierce, and Melo would have problems with Kobe's alpha dog persona and would want to see more of the ball.
Granted, I can't exclude Mr. Nash based on chemistry issues. He brings instant chemistry to every team. But I still don't think he'd be the right fit for this team. Why?
3. Offensive System: With five high IQ ballers and tremendous passing ability at every position, this team would be perfect for the triangle offense, which has brought Phil Jackson nine rings. Nash's unique and creative playmaking skills would be wasted in a structured half court offense and he would be a negative on the defensive end as compared to Billups. Billups is also a very comparable shooter to Nash from 3 point land and the charity strip, and with his size and strength, he can get to the hole whenever he wants. Make no mistake, he is a beast of a point guard.
This same analysis applies to Chris Paul and J-Kidd, who are better fits for run and gun style teams.
4. Experience: Kobe (3 rings), Billups (one ring), Prince (one ring), and Duncan (three rings). While KG has only been to the Western Conference Finals, he plays with homicidal intensity because he wants a ring so bad. He would really drive this team. Anyway, all of these guys would be confident against any team in any situation, and any one of them could step up and hit a big shot, or get a clutch block or steal.
By the way, Nash, Kidd, Lebron, Melo, Pierce, Dirk....zero rings. And Dirk absolutely choked in the finals last year. Nash has never even taken his team that far. One of those two may prove me wrong this year, but until they do, I'm sticking with my 8 rings.
5. Don't buy the hype. The Suns are a joy to watch. Steve Nash is a virtuoso with a basketball in his hands. But the Lakers took them 7 games into the playoffs last year (as did the Clippers). Granted, the Suns were missing Mr. Stoudamire. But the Lakers were starting Smush Parker, Kobe, Luke Walton, Odom, and Kwame Brown. That's right, Kwame Brown. Imagine what Billups, Kobe, Prince, KG and Duncan would have done to that team, or even this year's Suns or Mavericks. It would be ugly. Why? Because defensive is more important than offensive and you need a team that can get stops when it counts.
Hope that helps.
P.W. Howell
Senior NBA analyst for After the Gold Rush
P.S., I'm going to be sipping malt liquor and shooting off my handgun in the
streets of Los Angeles when O.J. Mayo leads USC to its first NCAA Championship next year.
Thank you for your feedback. I appreciate your interest in the blog. First, I want to make sure that you understand that I have picked guys who I think would make the best "team," not which guys I think are the best players at their respective positions. I agree with you that Nash is the best point guard in the NBA (although he's not young like you say -- he's 33, almost two years older than Billups), and that Lebron is the best small forward. Here's why they didn't make my team and Prince and Billups did:
1. Defense wins championships. I have assembled what I view to be a lock down defensive unit. Prince (and his seven-foot wingspan) is one of the two or three best perimeter defenders in the league, with Artest and Bowen. But, he presents less of a risk to commit murder than Artest, and is more offensively skilled than Bowen. He would be assigned to the opposing team's best offensive player, which would allow Kobe to focus more on his offensive game...much like the Scottie Pippen did for Michael Jordan. Duncan and KG are both 1st team all-defensive players on the inside, and Billups is the best defensive point guard in the league, without question. Kidd is comparable, but is hampered by bad knees. This group would simply demoralize teams on the defensive end.
Lebron and Nash are average to below-average defensive players for their positions (check out their scouting reports on ESPN.com). This team has plenty of offense (about 90 points) with just Billups, Kobe, Duncan, and KG. Adding another offensive dynamo has drastically diminishing returns, and would only screw up the chemistry.
2. On that note, chemistry. Since Kobe (as much as I hate to admit it) is the greatest offensive force/clutch performer since Jordan, I decided to build the team around him. Of course, he's not an easy guy to play with, so I had to pick players with whom he would jive. Billups, Prince, KG and Duncan fit the bill because they are unselfish and would never gripe about Kobe's 30 shots. At the same time, none of them would cower under Kobe's dominating personality a la Lamar Odom.
Again, Lebron, T-mac, Pierce, and Melo would have problems with Kobe's alpha dog persona and would want to see more of the ball.
Granted, I can't exclude Mr. Nash based on chemistry issues. He brings instant chemistry to every team. But I still don't think he'd be the right fit for this team. Why?
3. Offensive System: With five high IQ ballers and tremendous passing ability at every position, this team would be perfect for the triangle offense, which has brought Phil Jackson nine rings. Nash's unique and creative playmaking skills would be wasted in a structured half court offense and he would be a negative on the defensive end as compared to Billups. Billups is also a very comparable shooter to Nash from 3 point land and the charity strip, and with his size and strength, he can get to the hole whenever he wants. Make no mistake, he is a beast of a point guard.
This same analysis applies to Chris Paul and J-Kidd, who are better fits for run and gun style teams.
4. Experience: Kobe (3 rings), Billups (one ring), Prince (one ring), and Duncan (three rings). While KG has only been to the Western Conference Finals, he plays with homicidal intensity because he wants a ring so bad. He would really drive this team. Anyway, all of these guys would be confident against any team in any situation, and any one of them could step up and hit a big shot, or get a clutch block or steal.
By the way, Nash, Kidd, Lebron, Melo, Pierce, Dirk....zero rings. And Dirk absolutely choked in the finals last year. Nash has never even taken his team that far. One of those two may prove me wrong this year, but until they do, I'm sticking with my 8 rings.
5. Don't buy the hype. The Suns are a joy to watch. Steve Nash is a virtuoso with a basketball in his hands. But the Lakers took them 7 games into the playoffs last year (as did the Clippers). Granted, the Suns were missing Mr. Stoudamire. But the Lakers were starting Smush Parker, Kobe, Luke Walton, Odom, and Kwame Brown. That's right, Kwame Brown. Imagine what Billups, Kobe, Prince, KG and Duncan would have done to that team, or even this year's Suns or Mavericks. It would be ugly. Why? Because defensive is more important than offensive and you need a team that can get stops when it counts.
Hope that helps.
P.W. Howell
Senior NBA analyst for After the Gold Rush
P.S., I'm going to be sipping malt liquor and shooting off my handgun in the
streets of Los Angeles when O.J. Mayo leads USC to its first NCAA Championship next year.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
The Clouded Sage
I can’t imagine being upset. You get mad. Then sad. But why sad? It seems that we’ve mutated. Our emotional constitution requires that we reconsider every interaction from the other’s point of view and calculate, with some unfortunate parameter of precision, how the other party probably felt.
The old cantankerous sort has configured this wretched device to have a minimal pulse. And the morbidly astute suffer as they see sorrow beaming from their friends’ eyes. And yet the reasonable man is unable to corner the appropriate degree of concern to be used as regular machinery.
A crass tale fills context empty atmospheres just as well as a grimace or scowl. But the recipient must decide to what extent these impulses should be filtered. And why is the recipient so responsible? Simply because she must discern the nature of the story teller or shape shifter – what was their intent. And again the blasted vision the recipient holds is to be considered time and again. All as part of a regimen precipitating the matter of choice and consequence.
Wouldn’t it be lovely if everything was instinct? But then what would friendship mean? And don’t forget the opposite is starkly evident. The smile and laugh bear some semblance of attitude and personality. Motion and commotion generate ferver within a bleeding cortex.
In sum, it is a matter of credibility! Outcome based preferences are easily redefined to be all-inclusive.
I can’t imagine being upset. You get mad. Then sad. But why sad? It seems that we’ve mutated. Our emotional constitution requires that we reconsider every interaction from the other’s point of view and calculate, with some unfortunate parameter of precision, how the other party probably felt.
The old cantankerous sort has configured this wretched device to have a minimal pulse. And the morbidly astute suffer as they see sorrow beaming from their friends’ eyes. And yet the reasonable man is unable to corner the appropriate degree of concern to be used as regular machinery.
A crass tale fills context empty atmospheres just as well as a grimace or scowl. But the recipient must decide to what extent these impulses should be filtered. And why is the recipient so responsible? Simply because she must discern the nature of the story teller or shape shifter – what was their intent. And again the blasted vision the recipient holds is to be considered time and again. All as part of a regimen precipitating the matter of choice and consequence.
Wouldn’t it be lovely if everything was instinct? But then what would friendship mean? And don’t forget the opposite is starkly evident. The smile and laugh bear some semblance of attitude and personality. Motion and commotion generate ferver within a bleeding cortex.
In sum, it is a matter of credibility! Outcome based preferences are easily redefined to be all-inclusive.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Yum Yum Land
If only every weekend were so nice. On Friday night, the jubilant J-Bird took the train up to LA with his special lady friend, Marina. I picked them up from Union Station at around 11:00 p.m. and brought them back to the homestead where we shared a couple bottles of red wine. On Saturday morning, J-Bird and I spent an hour or so at the golf course before picking up a pork loin and mojito fixings. Waiting for us at home was 2 dozen steamed blue crabs, cold beer and pink wine. For the next four hours, we picked crab, ate bbq and drank, all the while sitting on our deck in beautiful 85 degree weather. By 7:00 p.m., everyone was in a food coma and ready for bed. It was at that time that J-bird and Marina bid their farewell. I slept for the next 12 hours and woke up to another beautiful day. Priya and I ate pork loin and egg sandwichs for breakfast. The sound of our kisses filled the canyon until the sun set again.
These are the days that make all the rest worth living.
These are the days that make all the rest worth living.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Friday, February 23, 2007
Dreams? Yes dreams. Mostly mine are too disturbing to pass along. I can’t properly embellish the sensible features of them without invoking goblined imagery too obscene and grotesque for most sensible folk to suffer thru. But here’s a dream I had the other night.
I sat in the living room. The walls had been covered with striped felt. Maroon. Then green. And again maroon. Something from the bohemian markets in San Francisco. Two children burst from my abdomen. They were screaming in garbled and synthesized voices. The torn flesh and stretched membranes covered parts of their bald heads. Anger and angst forced them to clench their fists around my dangling interior organs.
All the while I sat. I drank cognac from a large snifter and gently rocked when the fan passed. Really I was enjoying the trumpet music she had brought back from India. The door opened. She had returned. The children shut their eyes and dove back into the gaping wound at my abdomen. The flesh sealed and the scar melted into the remaining portion of my tummy.
In three words or less I would describe the dream: Fucking beautiful.
I sat in the living room. The walls had been covered with striped felt. Maroon. Then green. And again maroon. Something from the bohemian markets in San Francisco. Two children burst from my abdomen. They were screaming in garbled and synthesized voices. The torn flesh and stretched membranes covered parts of their bald heads. Anger and angst forced them to clench their fists around my dangling interior organs.
All the while I sat. I drank cognac from a large snifter and gently rocked when the fan passed. Really I was enjoying the trumpet music she had brought back from India. The door opened. She had returned. The children shut their eyes and dove back into the gaping wound at my abdomen. The flesh sealed and the scar melted into the remaining portion of my tummy.
In three words or less I would describe the dream: Fucking beautiful.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
WORK SUCKS
In this strange dream I had a while ago, I looked down and noticed that my member was just a wispy flap of skin, only slightly thicker than a hair. Panic set in when I realized that I wasn't wearing any pants and that I was in a room full of people who were staring and laughing at me. I tried frantically to cover it up and pretended that what they saw was just a pubic hair and that my actual member was hidden from their site. This was only the second most frightening dream I've had involving my penis.
The worst dream was as follows: I was at a dinner party where waiters in tuxedos were serving hoar-devours on fancy silver platters. One of the waiters came over to me and asked me if I would like to try my own penis. I looked down to find my own limp Johnson on his tray. There might have been a couple others there as well. So I picked it up and wondered how I was supposed to eat it. Then I woke up and vomited in my mouth.
The point is that some weeks are so awful that I would rather eat my own severed penis than go to work.
In this strange dream I had a while ago, I looked down and noticed that my member was just a wispy flap of skin, only slightly thicker than a hair. Panic set in when I realized that I wasn't wearing any pants and that I was in a room full of people who were staring and laughing at me. I tried frantically to cover it up and pretended that what they saw was just a pubic hair and that my actual member was hidden from their site. This was only the second most frightening dream I've had involving my penis.
The worst dream was as follows: I was at a dinner party where waiters in tuxedos were serving hoar-devours on fancy silver platters. One of the waiters came over to me and asked me if I would like to try my own penis. I looked down to find my own limp Johnson on his tray. There might have been a couple others there as well. So I picked it up and wondered how I was supposed to eat it. Then I woke up and vomited in my mouth.
The point is that some weeks are so awful that I would rather eat my own severed penis than go to work.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Monday, February 12, 2007
Friday, February 09, 2007
Thursday, February 08, 2007
NOT DONE YET...
"You hear that sound? That's the sound of your
bullshit hitting the whirling dirvish [sic] of anger that is
my fan. You are about to find out what happens when
you piss of [sic] 145 pounds of bitterness, rage, and semen.
You are entering a world of pain.
Mr. Dickface Know-It-All Lawyer, I'd like to know how
to post things on that self-indulgent, masturbatory
piece of shit you call a blog.
Mr. Pretty Boy Everything Is All Pink And Squishy
Economist, Make your damn music video. I'll get
famous and bang Playmates and shit. Plus, I like
Ziggy Stardust. Some of us still listen to rock and
roll music and not Eurotrash synthesized techno
bullshit.
In the immortal words of Wyatt Earp brilliantly
portrayed by Mr. Kurt Russell, 'YOU CALLED DOWN THE
THUNDER? WELL NOW YOU GOT IT!!!!!!'
Eat shit and die, Hart"
"You hear that sound? That's the sound of your
bullshit hitting the whirling dirvish [sic] of anger that is
my fan. You are about to find out what happens when
you piss of [sic] 145 pounds of bitterness, rage, and semen.
You are entering a world of pain.
Mr. Dickface Know-It-All Lawyer, I'd like to know how
to post things on that self-indulgent, masturbatory
piece of shit you call a blog.
Mr. Pretty Boy Everything Is All Pink And Squishy
Economist, Make your damn music video. I'll get
famous and bang Playmates and shit. Plus, I like
Ziggy Stardust. Some of us still listen to rock and
roll music and not Eurotrash synthesized techno
bullshit.
In the immortal words of Wyatt Earp brilliantly
portrayed by Mr. Kurt Russell, 'YOU CALLED DOWN THE
THUNDER? WELL NOW YOU GOT IT!!!!!!'
Eat shit and die, Hart"
MORE MUSINGS FROM THE HARTSONG
"Dear Motherfucker, I don't recall giving permission
for you to prostitute my innermost thoughts and
feelings, to say nothing of my covert machinations,
for all to see on the interweb. Take this as notice
that you are temporarily relieved of your duties as my
attorney while I engage a rival attorney to obtain
restitution for the theft of my intelectual property.
After I have taken posession of all your belongings
and assets you will then resume your duties gratis for
the remainder of my life. Also, if you publish any
further communiques, I will castrate you before you
have a chance to sow your conjugal oats."
"Dear Motherfucker, I don't recall giving permission
for you to prostitute my innermost thoughts and
feelings, to say nothing of my covert machinations,
for all to see on the interweb. Take this as notice
that you are temporarily relieved of your duties as my
attorney while I engage a rival attorney to obtain
restitution for the theft of my intelectual property.
After I have taken posession of all your belongings
and assets you will then resume your duties gratis for
the remainder of my life. Also, if you publish any
further communiques, I will castrate you before you
have a chance to sow your conjugal oats."
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
HARTSONG WEIGHS IN
"It is wise of you to send me an invitation to your
wedding. I was planning to attend whether invited or
not. However, if not invited, I would be forced to
lurk in the rafters of the church until the
penultimate moment of the ceremony at which point I
would swing down to the altar tarzan-style wearing
nothing but hot-pants,cowboy boots, and a backpack. I
would then remove an infant goat from my backpack and
quickly slaughter it with my Rambo knife, spraying you
and your bride with the warm blood of the pure to
demonstrate my indignation with your discourteous
social slight. So, clearly it is in your best
interest to send me an invitation, or a "save the date
card", or whatever gaywad thing you are calling it. I
hope I can join you and Priya on your special day
without bloodshed. Kisses, Hart Attack"
"It is wise of you to send me an invitation to your
wedding. I was planning to attend whether invited or
not. However, if not invited, I would be forced to
lurk in the rafters of the church until the
penultimate moment of the ceremony at which point I
would swing down to the altar tarzan-style wearing
nothing but hot-pants,cowboy boots, and a backpack. I
would then remove an infant goat from my backpack and
quickly slaughter it with my Rambo knife, spraying you
and your bride with the warm blood of the pure to
demonstrate my indignation with your discourteous
social slight. So, clearly it is in your best
interest to send me an invitation, or a "save the date
card", or whatever gaywad thing you are calling it. I
hope I can join you and Priya on your special day
without bloodshed. Kisses, Hart Attack"
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