I saw on NBA Rumors that the Celtics are going to trade or release David Lee. How about this, as strange as it may seem: Why don't the Warriors take Lee back. He'd give them a hell of a lot more than Jason Thompson, and the Celts may be interested in Jason with one year left on his contract and him being younger and an East Coast guy. Probably best to let the Celts release David, then the Warriors can negotiate a more reasonable contract? Yes? No? Since I'm not knowledgeable about contracts and such, I don't know if this is feasible. Anyway, it would give David the chance to complete the circle, end his career with the Dubs. He did, lest people forget, do an admirable job off the bench in the Finals last season. Might be a classy thing to do.
I'm a huge Harrison Barnes supporter, so I'd hate to see him go in a sign and trade for Kevin Durant. It might be worth considering that more does not always equate to better. Okay, okay, I know it IS Durant. A Warrior team with Durant, Steph, Klay and Dray raining threes. Like the friggin Apocalypse.
Cam Newton may indeed be the quarterback of the future, but weren't the pundits saying the same thing about Colin Kepernick a while back? Remember the turtle and the hare tales.
As we approach March Madness, are there any clear leaders among among the college teams? Time to pick the underdogs, which will make for an interesting tourney.
Watched the Timberwolves lose to the Lakers and saw Kobe perform like the old Kobe. I take back what I said about him; even a few games like last night's, and he deserves to have his last All Star Game in the sun. Sorry Damian, you're up next year. As for the Timberwolves, they've got some solid young players to build into a championship team, but they need a coach that will get them to play defense on a regular basis. Tom Thibodeau comes to mind. There's something not right in my mind about Sam Mitchell, perhaps, a little too cool, a little too coach with a capital C. Just a gut reaction.
Is Terry Stotts of the Trail Blazers Coach of the Year? If the Blazers make the playoffs, he better be.
For Super Sunday coming up, how about a this football poem from my second book of poetry, Some Men.
Monday Morning Quarterback
Yesterday's win with seconds on the clock
made going back to work easier even after weeks
when everything for him had turned to crap.
They'd painted their faces green,
put on their wigs, donned their yellow capes,
circled their trucks like wagons heading west,
roasted hotdogs.. The ice cold beer tasted best
when shared with family and friends, a small
philosophy, but something he had learned to trust.
The newspapers were full of war in some country
he couldn't spell. The neighbor's son had fought there.
They brought him back a week ago without a leg.
A letter came that said his house was"upside down."
Thank God he wasn't out of work, he'd told his wife.
Thank God for Football. The game protected him from grief.
What he could save of this crummy time, he found
every Sunday in the stands with his high school pals,
who stood beside him on the dwindling factory line.
Half a Sunday without a worry. You think that's peanuts?
We're all small-town when it comes to fears. He'd said that,
he remembered, during a time out, coach challenging a call
while the referee looked into the past to see what was right.
No comments:
Post a Comment