Third Post

9/26

Post #3 Topic: Kobe to…. SHAWN MARION?

Nothing irks me quite as much as mosquitoes. However, after mosquitoes, NBA players demanding to be traded is a close 2^nd.

Shouldn’t these players agents be instructing them not to issue any public trade demands? Especially on ESPN which due to the advent of the internet has become nothing more than a gossip journalism channel, distinguished from Entertainment Tonight and Access Hollywood only by its double digit channel location. History shows that players demanding to be traded typically DON’T GET TRADED. Given that these mindless behemoths are more often than not smaller in the part of the brain that does arithmetic, but there is a lot more that goes into trades, especially those involving big name players, then where so and so wants to play.

This is not third grade kickball, where if I wanted to play on Pat’s team I would scream and stomp my feet until everyone else gave in. Nor is this fantasy basketball, where the Dwayne wades and the Joe Johnson’s of our world see themselves shifting rosters thousands of times each day.

A trade is not easy to make. Often times it involves more than one team. And if you’re the Boston Celtics trying to salvage what for the past five years has been a wreck of Lusitaniaesque proportions, maybe more than 10 players.

So now Shawn Marion wants to be traded to the Lakers. The way I see it, one of two things can happen.

1. Shawn Marion is traded nowhere. He remains in Phoenix on a team one Bruce Bowen away from a legitimate shot at a championship. However, given the presence of Amare, the emergence of Boris and the reclamation project of Mr. 1996 Co-rookie of the year (the other being former Sun, Jason Kidd), Shawn finds himself getting less touches than he did last year. And thus the song remains the same. Shawn once again makes it public that he wants out. The fans go against him. He gets benched. His numbers and productivity go down (assuming an injury isn’t a foregone conclusion). His trade value plummets farther than Isiah Thomas’s credibility (otherwise known as the Journey to the Center of the Earth by Jules Verne), and he winds up where???? STUCK ON THE SUNS. Afterall, the Lakers only have one valuable asset not named Andrew Bynum, and the Zen-Master is too busy practicing his PICK AND ROLL on owner Jerry Buss’s daughter to be interested in relocating to retirement land (although retirement might be in his best interest given the poor mismanagement of the Lakers). Not to mention that without Jerry Colangelo manning the ship, the chances of the Suns stealing another Boris Diaw are slim to none. Then Shawn he plays out his remaining time in Phoenix and signs elsewhere in a few years, carrying a bad reputation for not being a “team guy”, one of the most abused clichés in professional anything.

2. Instead, Shawn winds up being traded to the Philadelphia 76’ers in exchange for defensive (and at times offensive) center Samuel “Je suis tres large mais Je ne peux (thanks JC) pas prendre le charge” Dalembert, where the combination of A.I. II (Igoudala) and Mr. Marion reinvigorate the only city more accustomed to losing than Chicago, and wins a string of championships behind Mo Cheeks. Too bad he can’t suit up for the woeful Phillies, maybe take Grandpa Jamie Moyer’s spot in the rotation.

So be smarter Shawn. If all goes well, the Suns come out of the recently depleted Western Conference (although the Spurs might just be entitled to a rule 12(b)(6) motion given the strength of their “all-world” roster). Then, assuming the baby Bulls still can’t get their acts together, maybe you get a weak Cavalier team in the finals and pull off a championship. You’re applauded as a key contributor, and suddenly become the object of every team’s, looking for some “championship experience” affection.

If not Mr. Marion, take heed to a warning crooned by The Animals in 1964: There is a house in New Orleans, where you may be headed you once Rising Sun, and its been the ruin of many young ballers, and god, pray you don’t become one.

Other Notes:

Drinking a pitcher of Margaritas on a Tuesday may sound like a festive idea, but feeling like ass on a Wednesday is no Beef Chimichanga with no cheese, with Guacamole and Sour Cream on top, with a side of rice and refried beans, and three baskets of chips to the dome.

Its no problem baby I still got em, this just a victory lap baby im just joggin – Weezie

Tomorrow I’m going to Boston. Nothing good ever happens to me when I go to Boston. I guess that’s why they call me whiskers.