Inane NBA Finals Have Finally Arrived


DALLAS – Another seven months of painfully pointless professional basketball has finally reached its grand finale – as we, the watchers of this ongoing spectacle, crack our knuckles, pop our joints, and bust our skulls while we line up along the trough; loading up on cheap swill, greasy treats, and various other substances, attempting to endure the struggle that is trying to watch the NBA. Flashy dribbling and soaring slam-dunks are entertaining, sure – when you’re thirteen years old… but for those of us who ask for a little bit more substance from these insanely talented and overpaid athletes, we’ll most likely find more satisfaction from watching some tape-delayed, early 90s Senate hearing starring Newt Gingrich on C-SPAN than from this bastardization of Naismith’s invention.

The Game That Once Was has now morphed into a clear-cut, straightforward freak show, where players are judged by their ability to abandon a game plan and win the game on their own shoulders, rather than the unthinkable alternative: playing as a team. The desire to become the next Jordan or Bird and make the SportsCenter dailies so often falls short, and genuinely talented players are all relegated to competing for skimp handouts of sleazy press coverage. With all of the mediocre, self-serving play, it would appear to the acute observer that all NBA players are secretly engaged in an ongoing battle of who will become basketball’s equivalent of the NFL’s undisputed King of the Rollout, Rob Johnson.

A dialogue of Rollout Rob could take hours upon hours, flavored with scattered examples of his brilliance, and dominated by play after play of his stupidity – and in the end, I’d most likely end up face down in the bathroom, expelling dry-heaving moans due to excessive consumption of Monte Alban’s Mexican Delight. We’ll leave that for another time and place. It takes a certain pompous attitude to tackle the mind-twitching issue that is Rob Johnson, and, quite honestly, I’m not in the mood. Modern day professional basketball, however, doesn’t require the same kind of testicular fortitude to indulge itself, and even the biggest Neanderthalish boob can see there is a real problem happening here…

The NBA’s presentation of their two allegedly most talented teams, the Miami Heat and the Dallas Mavericks, will be on display for all the straights to see and applaud, and also for those of us who are a bit more tuned in to ridicule and heckle. The game will feature the ultimate freak amongst freaks: Miami center Shaquille O’Neal, who over the past thirteen years has made a career on throwing elbows, knocking skulls, missing free-throws… and pretty much asserting his overwhelming size on his opponents. He is the King Freak in the League of Freaks – and could’ve just as easily been the biggest thing in a traveling circus of midgets, three-breasted prostitutes, deformed Swedish transvestites, lobster people, and various other deformed mutants in the entire Western Hemisphere…

“… Sit back and bask in the spectacle as the 7-foot, 350 pound, illiterate Louisiana Negro gnaws through this 10-foot block of solid steel, followed by a dangerous trapeze act involving razor blades and kerosene with a dozen Korean midgets, and concluded by the Negro, covered in tar, leaping through a three-foot wide ring of fire… ”

At some point, the lion tamers, or the college recruiters, rather, noticed this beast was somewhat docile, contained a slight bit of charisma, and no longer needed to be caged – and it wouldn’t be the worst idea if this ogre were allowed to enter society. He may receive some weird stares and nasty gawks from the straights, sure, but a monster like that sure can slam that dern ball into the freggin’ hole. All commentary aside, O’Neal has developed into one of the best players this bastardized sport has ever produced, even if he is currently engaged in the down slope of his career.

The NBA Finals will be yet another opportunity for this monster to dominate his freak-like counterparts – in this go-around: the Dallas Mavericks. Most likely, the Mavs will find that defending O’Neal is a formidable task – and one they won’t be able to execute. If their plan is to smother King Freak with the likes of the semi-freakish Nigerian DeSagana Diop, the or cold-legged, ginger-kneed, fresh off the bench Erick Dampier, direct your attention to courtside as Mavericks owner/billionaire/psychopath Mark Cuban suffers from repeated brain hemorrhages as he peels the skin off his face every time O’Neal plows through the skimpy defense and shoves the rock through the hole. It could get real ugly.

One element that may keep the Mavs in contention is the play of Dirk Nowitzki, their 7-foot tall, ape-like German representative, who recently was named one of People’s 50 Ugliest People. Nowitzki, in all of his glory, has the ability to take anyone his size off the dribble, which is quite impressive, as well as nail a 23-footer with seemingly effortless ease. The one downside to the German Freak is his streaky shooting and his gun-slinging approach. More times than not, if you glance at the box score, you’ll find Nowitzki’s shot total eclipsing into the high 20s by the end of the third quarter. Though he is the Dallas Nation’s golden boy, that kind of behavior is sure to cause more hemorrhages in Cuban’s brain… and if it gets really out of control, we could be in for a truly entertaining event.

The play of Miami forward Antoine Walker could possibly cancel out the silliness of the German Freak. The streaky shooting and shoddy decision making employed by Nowitzki was originally invented by Walker who, throughout his nine-year career, has never seen a shot he didn’t like. The eventual outcome of the best-of-seven series may fall onto the shoulders of Miami guard “Jordan Lite” Dewayne Wade – who displays daunting ability, sure, but if he could develop a consistent jump shot to couple with his agility and selfless play, he could possibly live up to the nickname aforementioned.

Regardless of the outcome of the series, the games will be battled between two teams who, from top to bottom, are filled with mentally inferior, pulled and stretched freaks of nature who can’t figure out how to play together as a unit (like the rest of the league) – who are marginally superior in ape tendencies and showboating abilities to the other teams in the League of Freaks. Watching today’s NBA, Finals or not, is like witnessing a group of over-sized monkeys hopped up on amyl nitrate and methamphetamines, bouncing around and knocking skulls as they throw feces at each other – again, to the acute observer, a truly bizarre event…

The competition to see who is the most bizarre group of genetically-deviant freaks is on – and if that’s what you’re into, peel your eyelids back, fuse your retinas to the tube, and suck back gallons of your favorite water-flavored beer. I’ll be on the sidelines, with a hefty amount of Monte Alban Mexican Delight hooked to an intravenous tube, set on slow drip, trying to hold back my dry-heaves as I attempt to witness yet another example of how horrid this sport has become.

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