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Another week, another DimeBag. This week the DimeBag covers the annoyance of links, the 2008 Jason Kidd trade to Dallas, and J.R. Smith having red hair.
How much would you pay to sit on the end of the bench for one NBA game? You’d get to be in the huddles, high five the starters when they play well, etc.
So essentially you’re asking if I’d like to be Brian Scalabrine for a day, and the answer is yes. Although I’d probably like to avoid moments like these. On another note, I will be fortunate enough to be a Knicks ball boy for one game during the season (insert lockout joke) – and yes, I plan on snagging as much gear as possible. You’d think that being on the media side of basketball would temper my childish excitability, but no. Anyone that says they don’t have to restrain themselves from saying outloud, “Holy shit, I’m talking to LeBron James right now” is lying. I mean, that’s why you get into sports writing in the first place. Broken down to it’s core, it’s essentially an excuse to be a large child forever. If I asked your 10-year-old self what your favorite thing to do was and you responded “corporate litigation,” I’d smack you across the face and spit on your Polo sweater. And then I’d throw your boat shoes at you. Sports writing is the next best thing to sitting on the bench – and any writer who argues otherwise has lost his grasp with reality.
Since the NBA is locked out, can we start airing SlamBall again? Trampolines. Face-offs. Convicts. I’d rather watch plays like this with unknowns than some blurry footage of an empty gym in Europe to see Deron Williams and some Turkish guys.
Couldn’t agree more. For those of you that didn’t click on the video, do it. Trust me, I’m acutely aware of the difficulty of following links, especially to YouTube videos. You have to wait for the little spinny thing to go, and then sometimes the video doesn’t load properly so it’s always buffering. And the worst part? There’s nothing you can do. It’s not like the old N64 games where you could blow on the game or the console and somehow that would magically alleviate any electrical problem. No, computers have to be fragile. So you sit there like an idiot, checking your wireless connection in vain or fidgeting with the Ethernet cord. One day I’d like a computer where the solution to funcationality issues is throwing it against the wall.
Anyway, SlamBall. That video shows one of the greatest facials I’ve ever seen. For those who don’t know the SlamBall rules, I’m far too lazy to extrapolate the minutiae for you. Even better, I’d love to see the mini basketball league we profiled actually come to fruition on the national stage. Although I’d modify the rules a tad. Whereas NBA scouts drool over athleticism, I’d institute an opposing mandate prohibiting verticals over 20 inches and heights over 6-foot. Also, anyone with a six-pack is disallowed – beer bellies are encouraged.
Ultimately international basketball with a few American names sounds less appealing than the San Antonio Spurs. If I can’t get the real thing, I don’t want some cheap knock off. Surprise me. Sweep me off my feet. Make me forget that the NBA lockout forces me to cry myself to sleep at night.