What I love about being a bird in Brooklyn is there is never any shortage of crap to talk about.
First, a dustup not involving yours truly — finally. In Monday’s game, the guy that almost everyone in the NBA seems to hate, Dwight Howard, got into it with a player whose championship resume he wishes he had, Kevin Garnett. A foul call on Garnett, and Howard’s existence in adjacent space, sent Garnett into a rage that demonstrated beyond a reasonable doubt that our elder statesman could use some time off. KG whipped the ball into Howard’s back and followed it up with a head-butt that I couldn’t have executed better myself, except he missed the bridge of the nose and got a slap for his trouble.
My personal favorite moment was Garnett’s “Oooh, I just want to mess him up so bad” head rub, followed by the “I’m cool, I’m cool” walk opposite the Rockets bench, then another trot towards Howard, only to be restrained by a small man with white hair. Classic basketball tough guy.
What could D12 have said to KG to cause him to blow his top like a can of Schaefer after I carry a case back from the store on the bumper of a delivery truck? I’ve got some theories. Howard said James Harden was a better defender than Garnett, and meant it. KG asked Howard to help him get a day off via suspension. Howard mentioned Barclays Center’s weather-proofing problem.
Whatever the case, the scuffle — I wouldn’t call it a fight — was a sign of life in a Barclays Center that has approached the energy level of the morgue in recent weeks. But it came at a cost larger than Garnett’s one-game suspension. Watching KG lose his cool humanized Garnett for me, and it might have completely ruined that Big Ticket mystique.
Beyond the scuffle, there are rumblings in the rafters that Mikhy P., my Russian landlord, is looking to sell the Nets. Billionaires looking for a trophy asset saddled with high-priced, rapidly aging talent, get your checkbooks out!
That dude Ballmer in LA paid two billion for the Clippers — Donald “Why Are You Taking Pictures With Minorities” Sterling’s Clippers! Imagine what the Brooklyn team could fetch. Enough for a lifetime of bar tabs, I’d be willing to wager. Well, maybe not my bar tabs, the way I toss them back, but somebody’s.
What the heck. While my editors are still giving me this space I’ll put it out there:
Hey, Prokhy. Crummy here. Been hanging in the rafters since the Rust Bowl opened a couple years back. Got a good view from up there. Really got a sense of how things run. Jay Z and Beyonce sit in the front row; each year there’s a new head coach; the team gets older and worse with every passing season; seems pretty easy. I think I can handle that. Consider that my resume.
Money? Me and the boys will cobble something together, don’t you worry about that. And you can’t bet your a-- we won’t be losing $144 million in a season. Time to start digging through the recycling.
Speaking of which, spare a buck for a beer?