Maybe There Is a Basketball God?

Apparently the NBA is going to fine players for flopping next season. It would have been nice to implement this rule about 10 years ago, (before the Spurs won 4 championships), but it's never too late to make a change.

ESPN.com: Article

Son of Rambow

I got to celebrate Memorial Day by seeing Son of Rambow in Scottsdale. The film is one of the best independent comedies I've seen in awhile. In light of its success at the Sundance Film Festival, I'm a little surprised that it's only scoring 75% on the Tomatometer. But most top critics seem to be receiving it well. I guess the other 25% just lack a sense of humor--or worse yet, a heart. For those of you that liked movies like Unstrung Heroes or Rushmore, you won't be disappointed. I won't even bother to tell you what it's about--just go see it.

Existence

There must be one million raindrops
Falling into the streets tonight.
And even the smallest possible raindrop
Is held together by its own infinite existence.
Whether any of them know it or not,
The light from a single street lamp shines
Through each of them at the same time,
Regardless of distance,
As they blaze downward shivering
All alone
In their own straight lines to earth
Longing to be born again,
Yet surrendering their lives,
With all the molecular fury in the world
Into puddles.

I can't sleep knowing there are so many of them.

Remember When The Osmonds Rocked?

Suns Fans: Light Yourselves on Fire

I would like to thank my brother for encouraging me to make my way to ESPN.com for the first time in nearly two weeks. I had been attempting to avoid anything that might remind me of the Phoenix Suns. After their Game 1 double-overtime loss to the Spurs, (highlighted by the Suns' blown 17-point lead and Tim Duncan's 3-pointer), I knew it was only a matter of time before spending another long off-season of "what-ifs," while Robert Sarver continues to carry out his brilliant fiscal strategy of trading good draft picks for worse draft picks. But this off-season will be different than the past 3 offseasons: for the first time, I have come to grips with the fact that Mike D'Antoni's "Seven Seconds or Less" dream is officially over.

I probably should have seen this coming long ago. From the beginning of the 2007-08 season, it was obvious that Nash had lost a couple steps. Younger guards like Chris Paul and Derron Williams abused Nash in ways that literally forced me to cover my eyes and turn away from the television in horror. Even against mediocre teams, Nash was always a turnover waiting to happen. But Nash wasn't the only problem. Shawn Marion permanently decided that he could no longer co-exist as the third-best player on the team. In addition, Boris Diaw (never mind that he was the Suns' best player in the playoffs), privately decided that he was going to break his own NBA record for most "fake layup/kick-out" passes in a season, and Raja Bell spent the first 3 months of the season trying to find a 3-point shot. Midseason, when the Suns' front-office finally realized that the Suns were never going to win a championship with their existing lineup, they pulled the trigger on the Shaq trade, which brought hope to everyone. Unfortunately, the "Big Cactus" project came too late and never completely meshed. Now we'll likely spend the next two years paying Shaq $20 million a year to do what he did in Miami the past two seasons: nothing.

From 2004 to 2007, I don't think I ever enjoyed watching a team in any sport as much as I did the Phoenix Suns. I also don't remember enjoying a single player as much as Steve Nash. He singlehandedly revived my interest in the NBA. He represented everything that can be great about sports: he was a great teammate, he was smart, he was the underdog who only received one scholarship offer out of high school, yet he had somehow worked hard enough to become one of the greatest players in the history of the NBA. Even after losing to the Spurs last year, I told a Spurs' fan that I would rather watch Steve Nash and the Suns play fast-break basketball during the regular season (and wind up a lottery team), than watch Tim Duncan and the Spurs boringly plod their way through an entire season (and flop their way through the playoffs to a championship). In other words, I was willing to concede ever winning a championship for the ability to watch the Suns play beautiful offensive basketball.

I could go on for weeks about this, but this article by Bill Simmons, in which he refers to the Suns as the "critically acclaimed" Phoenix Suns, tells the story much better. If only there weren't so many "what ifs" . . .

Bill Simmons: A Requiem for the "Seven Seconds or Less" Era

Wolf Parade

The only thing certain about 2008: the music for Wolf Parade's upcoming album, At Zoomer Mountain, should be better than the album's cover art and album title.