A Few Cranky Thoughts

It's been voiced and noted by sports writers, talking head, and bloggers that the Warriors need Steph Curry. Well, DUH! And then go on to point out that the team is just another playoff team. Well, DUH! You take Michael Jordan off the Bulls? I'm sure Scotty Pippen would have had a choice response to said comments.

The Warriors lost to The Beard's Rockets because they played poorly, not because Steph Curry was on the bench. If they'd have played the whole game the way they played in the fourth quarter, there would have been no contest. As it was, they should have won. How that ref missed Hardin's push off is beyond me.

In this mornings' Sacramento Bee sports page there was an article in which John Calipari said that Cousin was no problem, no problem at all in One and Done U. Maybe so, but he's been a migraine in for the Kings. Since when must a player have to bond with a coach. A baby must bond with his mother and father. That's it. You play your best. You stay in the best shape you can be. You do not diss your teammates, or yell at your coach in front of an arena of fans. Mike Malone was a fine coach, granted. Was there a true bonding between the two. I doubt it. Would Cousin's bonding with him have lasted a full year? My guess is, no. For the very simply reason that DeMarcus Cousin's is an immature, self-centered young man. He may or may not ever mature.

Has anyone noticed a Ciroc Vodka ad that comes on regularly during NBA playoff games that ask viewers to Live Life Responsibly while showing a bunch of drunks living life irresponsibly?  I'm just asking. In Russia, the birthplace of Vodka, you are considered an alcoholic (piani) if you drink vodka without eating food along with the drink.

I've been on an "Oldies but Goodies" poetry search, and found this lovely, touching poem about a father teaching his daughter how to swim.

First Lesson   By Philip Booth

Lie back, daughter, let your head
be tipped back in the cup of my hand.
Gently, and I will hold you.Spread
your arms wide, lie out on the stream
and look high at the gulls. A dead-
man's float is face down. You will dive
and swim soon enough where this tidewater
ebbs to the sea. Daughter, believe
me, when you tire on the long thrash
to your island, lie up, and survive.
As you float now, where I held you
and let go, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told you:
lie gently and wide to the light-year
stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you.