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.
Wednesday, February 3, 2016
Tuesday, February 2, 2016
Chinese New Year of the Monkey Warrior T-shirts and etc
Wouldn't it be great if the Warriors for Chinese New Years honored some of the great Chinese Bay Area basketball players such as Willie Wo Wo Wong (posthumously), Al Mock, Norm OwYoung Jang, and add Jeremy Lin to the list. Probably the time has passed for such a ceremony to happen, but maybe next year, huh? If any Warrior exec is reading my blog. How about it, Rick, Raymond?
I love irony. The 49ers give up on Vernon Davis, and he's back at Levi Stadium with the Denver Broncos competing in the Super Bowl. An aside: I had a good friend, now no longer willing with us, by the name of George Gutekunst, the garrulous owner of one of the great 4 star restaurants, Ondine, who used to host a Stupid Bowl party on Super Bowl Sunday. Always Osso Bucco and great conversation. Who attended? Socialist seamen, artists, novelists, poets, sportsmen, broadcasters, restaurateurs, journalists. No one watched the game.
My wife, Melanie, who fancies animal designs in clothing wants a pair of Cam Newton trousers. I love Cam's brash confidence, and I'd normally be pulling for him. But this year, I'm cheering for Payton Manning and the Broncos. Wouldn't it be superb and fitting for such a consummate pro to retire with a ring?
As much as the Warriors are lauded for their offensive skills, it's clear to me that their chances of winning a second championship rests with their defense. When they're playing lock-down D, they explode on the offensive end. Otherwise, they go a little "up and down" scoring in bunches, then giving up points so teams stay within striking distance. Not something they want to happen as they start the second half of the season run to the finish line.
I'm with Steve Kerr when he said of Draymond Green that it was great that Dray owned up publicly to being "selfish, unselfish," a nicer piece of rhetoric this old English teacher hasn't heard for awhile. Go Draymond! You slipped that screen nicely.
Back to the 49ers: Still on my "ticked off" hobby horse. When will San Franciscans finally vent some anger over the 49er team continuing to call themselves, the San Francisco 49ers, for God's sake? The team's stadium is in Santa Clara, built with San Jose taxes. The Super Bowl teams and media are staying in San Jose hotels and eating in San Jose restaurants. Media day and all its Hoopla taking place in San Jose. Come on! What does San Francisco get? A little "festival on the Embarcedero." Big Deal! Let's not kid ourselves Citizens of the City of Saint Francis, you are no longer starters, but relegated firmly to the bench, and don't think for a second that San Francisco will win a best 6th man award, you are way down on the end, picking splinters out of your butt. Sorry, I should have used a football metaphor, but I'm a roundball man.
I've finally decided to write a memoir. I'm at a point in the writing talking about some of the great players from my era. Here's a small poem written in the voice of Earl Monroe, the great Bullets and Knicks' guard of the 60s and 70s.
Earl "The Pearl" Monroe
In the rec leagues,
they called me Black Jesus.
When I walked onto the court
the crowed parted like water.
In college, someone found a rhyme
and I became a pearl.
I guess I've been a mixed
metaphor ever since. Sometimes,
when I backed a player
down into the paint
and spun into my shot,
I knew before the ball left
my fingers it was going in.
At that moment
I could have healed lepers,
raised the dead.
I love irony. The 49ers give up on Vernon Davis, and he's back at Levi Stadium with the Denver Broncos competing in the Super Bowl. An aside: I had a good friend, now no longer willing with us, by the name of George Gutekunst, the garrulous owner of one of the great 4 star restaurants, Ondine, who used to host a Stupid Bowl party on Super Bowl Sunday. Always Osso Bucco and great conversation. Who attended? Socialist seamen, artists, novelists, poets, sportsmen, broadcasters, restaurateurs, journalists. No one watched the game.
My wife, Melanie, who fancies animal designs in clothing wants a pair of Cam Newton trousers. I love Cam's brash confidence, and I'd normally be pulling for him. But this year, I'm cheering for Payton Manning and the Broncos. Wouldn't it be superb and fitting for such a consummate pro to retire with a ring?
As much as the Warriors are lauded for their offensive skills, it's clear to me that their chances of winning a second championship rests with their defense. When they're playing lock-down D, they explode on the offensive end. Otherwise, they go a little "up and down" scoring in bunches, then giving up points so teams stay within striking distance. Not something they want to happen as they start the second half of the season run to the finish line.
I'm with Steve Kerr when he said of Draymond Green that it was great that Dray owned up publicly to being "selfish, unselfish," a nicer piece of rhetoric this old English teacher hasn't heard for awhile. Go Draymond! You slipped that screen nicely.
Back to the 49ers: Still on my "ticked off" hobby horse. When will San Franciscans finally vent some anger over the 49er team continuing to call themselves, the San Francisco 49ers, for God's sake? The team's stadium is in Santa Clara, built with San Jose taxes. The Super Bowl teams and media are staying in San Jose hotels and eating in San Jose restaurants. Media day and all its Hoopla taking place in San Jose. Come on! What does San Francisco get? A little "festival on the Embarcedero." Big Deal! Let's not kid ourselves Citizens of the City of Saint Francis, you are no longer starters, but relegated firmly to the bench, and don't think for a second that San Francisco will win a best 6th man award, you are way down on the end, picking splinters out of your butt. Sorry, I should have used a football metaphor, but I'm a roundball man.
I've finally decided to write a memoir. I'm at a point in the writing talking about some of the great players from my era. Here's a small poem written in the voice of Earl Monroe, the great Bullets and Knicks' guard of the 60s and 70s.
Earl "The Pearl" Monroe
In the rec leagues,
they called me Black Jesus.
When I walked onto the court
the crowed parted like water.
In college, someone found a rhyme
and I became a pearl.
I guess I've been a mixed
metaphor ever since. Sometimes,
when I backed a player
down into the paint
and spun into my shot,
I knew before the ball left
my fingers it was going in.
At that moment
I could have healed lepers,
raised the dead.
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