March 16th, 2005

Steve Nash

See? I told you!


Now, if Oakland actually beats North Carolina, ariedana will kill me dead. D-E-A-D dead. It won't matter that she's in Nashville and Atlanta. She'll just do it. She'll reach through the phone and kill me. Good thing I have caller ID.
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Steve Nash

Unsent Letters, NBA edition

Dear Danny Ainge,

Every time I think you've reached the limits of human oddity, you go and prove me wrong. Trading for Antoine Walker, a year and a half after making your first act as GM running him out of town? Dude, that's just... weird. No wonder they're calling you Danny Strainge.

But hey, look on the bright side. Walker's working out great so far this time around, and as long as Isiah Thomas is in New York, you not only won't have to worry about being the worst GM in the league, you won't even be the worst GM in the Atlantic Division.

Celtic love,

Dear Isiah Thomas,

Seriously, how much crack are you smoking?

No, wait. I don't really think you're smoking crack. I think you've had too much coffee and are just too damn hyped up to read the fine print on all these trades. "Penny Hardaway?" *hop hop hop* "Sounds grrrrrreat!!" *hop hop bounce bounce bounce*

Seriously dude, lay off the caffeine. It's the NBA, not Monopoly. You don't win for having the highest payroll. And anyway, if you have the highest payroll, you should at least get more from it than Stephon Marbury's bloated ego.

I mean it. Put down the quadruple espresso,

Dear Kobe,

Kobe, Kobe, Kobe. I just don't know where to start. How about with "pass the damn ball once in a while, you lame-shooting ball hog?"

Yeah, that'll do nicely. Repeat that to yourself over and over again while you're home watching the playoffs and maybe you'll learn something.

No love,

Dear Maurice Cheeks,

Congratulations on getting fired! Seriously, you just got a get-out-of-jail-free card. Now would be a good time to polish up that resume for the twenty teams that will fire their coaches once the season ends and also to take some time off to relax. If you stopped by the Jailblazers' locker room on your way out, you've probably got enough weed to stay stoned for a month. Least they could do for you, really.

And hey! Word is Chris Webber doesn't like playing for Jim O'Brien, and it's a lot easier to get rid of a good coach than a bad player, so you might get to coach in Philly after all. Then again, why would you want to?

Congratulations again,

Dear Portland JailBlazers,

Good luck finding a new coach. I vote for Sam Mitchell, just to increase the drama quotient. Then when your players yell at the coach, the coach will yell back. You can install cameras in the locker room and sell it on pay-per-view. It'll be better than wrestling.

Seriously, you guys are a karmic train wreck of epic proportions. What did you guys do in your last life, eat babies?

But keep it up, because it's damn amusing,

Dear Atlanta Hawks,

Theoretically, I know you must still exist, because I'm going to your game next week. But if there was a basketball team in Atlanta and nobody cared, would it make a sound?

Seriously, how much do you guys suck? You keep trading for cap space which you never use because you can't lure anyone here. Atlanta has all sorts of things that players love -- hip-hop, strip clubs -- and yet you can't get anyone to come here. Then again, Atlanta's probably more fun as a road trip. Roll into town, beat the shit out of the Hawks, snort coke off a stripper's breasts. Then again, the Gold Club is closed now. The thing I don't get is, you're managed as badly as it was, and you're still going.

Congratulations on being worse than the expansion team,

Dear Steve Nash,

Please please PLEASE be well enough to play the Hawks next week. I promise not to rush the court screaming your name. Well, not before halftime, anyway.

Love and eternal lust,
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