Charles Dickens would call it a tale of two cities. A doctor would say it’s bipolar disorder. Whatever you want to call it, the Houston Rockets’ play was diametrically opposed in their back-to-back games to open the 2008-2009 season.
Game one against Memphis was uglier than that nappy headed hoe, Don Imus. The Rockets looked disheveled on offense, shooting a pathetic 36.8% from the field, scoring only 82 points to start a season hyped around the addition of Ron Artest. Luckily for everyone who got red Wednesday night, the Rockets were still able to flex their muscle on defense and shut down the Grizzlies’ young guns.
Last night’s game against the Dallas Mavericks was definitely a showcase of the Rockets’ better half. Yao Ming and company peppered the Mavs with a barrage of points, dropping 62 in the first half alone, and topping the night off with a 112-102 victory.
The Great Wall of Yao was an impressive 11-15 from the field, for a total of 30 points. Thuggish Ruggish Ron added 29, and Sleepy Eyes McGrady dropped in for 16. The surprise performance of the night was definitely the encore set by Aaron Brooks (nickname to be determined upon further play), who slashed and dashed for 14 points, 11 of which came at crucial moments during the fourth quarter.
The mainstream media has been creaming their pants over the Artest deal this offseason (and rightfully so), but you can mark my words…Aaron Brooks will be the proverbial X-factor this season for the Rockets. Of course Ron-Ron should be the missing link in what’s been the Rockets’ rusty chain, but we already know what he brings to the court.
It’s always the roll players; the endorsement-less hustlers; the unsung heroes that win championships. Remember Mario Elie? Or Tayshaun Prince? Consider last year even…everyone knew how good the trio of KG, Paul Pierce and Ray Allen was, but Boston would never have beat LA without the solid play of surprise point guard sensation, Rajon Rondo.
My point is this: of course the Rockets’ triple-stuffed burrito will fill up the stat sheet and win column, but it will come down to the “other guys” when June creeps its sunny face around the corner. I said it last year, and I’ll say it again this year—Sampson Simpson, I stick by my story!—Aaron Brooks will be the sweet, sweet icing on the Rockets’ red cake.
But that’s dessert. Let’s not skip the main course here. 2 down, 80 to go. From the looks of these first two games of the season, the Rockets could be the second deepest team in the league behind the Lakers. Especially when Shane “every middle-aged woman wants me” Battier returns to the line-up. No matter who the media wants to drool over, the Rockets will definitely be one of the hottest teams in the west this year. Let’s just hope they can stay healthy.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Monday, March 3, 2008
Life Goes On
I can’t believe I’m saying it, but maybe Yao Ming’s season ending injury won’t send the Houston Rockets into a dark whirlwind of playoff neglect after all. One would think that the axing of a 7’6” tree would create such a gaping hole in the canopy of the Rockets’ rain forest that the team’s entire ecosystem would crumble.
Not exactly. In three games without China’s champion, the Rockets have obliterated their opponents with double-digit victories in all three games. The ecosystem still flourishes. The hole ripped in the Rockets’ ozone by Yao’s fall has provided sunlight for new budding life to blossom. Like the rough-rooted Scola vine recently imported from Argentina. Or the light-footed Landry—a quick, high-hopping mammal from the plains of Purdue.
And while new flora and fauna flourish to cover Yao’s roots, the already established native creatures have not panicked about their changing environment. The slithering Alston snake continues to penetrate its prey’s defense and knock down open jumpers. The stoned-face McGrady goes about its business as usual, and the intangible Battier still frustrates opposing fools with class. The most impressive adaptation in the Rockets’ ecosystem so far though, has got to be that of destructive Dikembe—a ruthless dinosaur from Congo that devours rebounds and blocks shots with its long and lethal talons.
While the Rockets surely miss the Great Wall’s omnipotence, the rest of the team has compensated for his 22 points and 10 rebounds. With a superstar like Tracy McGrady, one wouldn’t think it should be that difficult to capture Yao’s stats back, but what’s truly amazing is the Rockets have thrived in their last three games despite the team’s entire offensive scheme revolved around Yao. So it’s not just about the numbers. It’s about completely changing the way you play the game.
Let us laud Coach Adelman for a terrific job trafficking such a drastic change. Adelman might even be able to do more with the current lineup than he ever did when Yao was healthy. The smaller run-and-gun system that the team will inevitably be forced to play seems to fit Adelman as it once did in Sacramento.
Now, the Rockets’ competition hasn’t been too fierce over these last three battles, but the month of March, with games against the top six western conference teams, will rumble the Rockets’ rainforest and test the strength of their trees. Let’s just hope life sustains itself in this flourishing ecosystem.
*When Yao went down with his injury, bona fide blabber mouth Steven A. Smith (an ESPN analyst) spat that the Rockets were doomed unless Tracy McGrady selfishly took over the game and attempted to play one-on-five basketball. Well, Steven, it appears there’s a reason why you don’t play the game. I’m just curious why that same legitimacy hasn’t booted you from the booth. You will never be as obnoxious as Sir Charles, so please, stop trying. (Plus, the only reason Barkley gets away with being a buffoon is because while he may sound like an idiot sometimes, he does know the game of basketball). And if you think ESPN needs its own version of Sir Charles, what do you think Bill Walton is for? Please, Steven, think before you speak.
Not exactly. In three games without China’s champion, the Rockets have obliterated their opponents with double-digit victories in all three games. The ecosystem still flourishes. The hole ripped in the Rockets’ ozone by Yao’s fall has provided sunlight for new budding life to blossom. Like the rough-rooted Scola vine recently imported from Argentina. Or the light-footed Landry—a quick, high-hopping mammal from the plains of Purdue.
And while new flora and fauna flourish to cover Yao’s roots, the already established native creatures have not panicked about their changing environment. The slithering Alston snake continues to penetrate its prey’s defense and knock down open jumpers. The stoned-face McGrady goes about its business as usual, and the intangible Battier still frustrates opposing fools with class. The most impressive adaptation in the Rockets’ ecosystem so far though, has got to be that of destructive Dikembe—a ruthless dinosaur from Congo that devours rebounds and blocks shots with its long and lethal talons.
While the Rockets surely miss the Great Wall’s omnipotence, the rest of the team has compensated for his 22 points and 10 rebounds. With a superstar like Tracy McGrady, one wouldn’t think it should be that difficult to capture Yao’s stats back, but what’s truly amazing is the Rockets have thrived in their last three games despite the team’s entire offensive scheme revolved around Yao. So it’s not just about the numbers. It’s about completely changing the way you play the game.
Let us laud Coach Adelman for a terrific job trafficking such a drastic change. Adelman might even be able to do more with the current lineup than he ever did when Yao was healthy. The smaller run-and-gun system that the team will inevitably be forced to play seems to fit Adelman as it once did in Sacramento.
Now, the Rockets’ competition hasn’t been too fierce over these last three battles, but the month of March, with games against the top six western conference teams, will rumble the Rockets’ rainforest and test the strength of their trees. Let’s just hope life sustains itself in this flourishing ecosystem.
*When Yao went down with his injury, bona fide blabber mouth Steven A. Smith (an ESPN analyst) spat that the Rockets were doomed unless Tracy McGrady selfishly took over the game and attempted to play one-on-five basketball. Well, Steven, it appears there’s a reason why you don’t play the game. I’m just curious why that same legitimacy hasn’t booted you from the booth. You will never be as obnoxious as Sir Charles, so please, stop trying. (Plus, the only reason Barkley gets away with being a buffoon is because while he may sound like an idiot sometimes, he does know the game of basketball). And if you think ESPN needs its own version of Sir Charles, what do you think Bill Walton is for? Please, Steven, think before you speak.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Feelin' Good
You could almost say it was the “feel good story of the year.” Assuming one could feel anything at all in last night’s gelid NFC Championship. It was the coldest football game in NFL history, with a wind-chill factor of -24 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s just insane!
What brilliant moron schedules a night game at Lambeau Field in January!? I mean, the field is nicknamed “The Frozen Tundra” and was home to the infamous “Ice Bowl”. What other evidence does one need to figure out that last night’s game should have been played at 2:00 in the afternoon? I think someone was playing a sick trick on both teams. Forget the teams though. I feel terrible for the fans. Every psycho who sat through that hellacious weather should be awarded a badge of honor.
Despite arctic temperatures, the game turned out to be a barnburner (pardon the cheesy cliché. I just wanted a nice juxtaposition to the frigid weather). As much as I wanted Brett Favre and the Packers to emerge victorious, I just felt so terrible for Lawrence Tynes (the Giants’ kicker) after he shanked two go-ahead kicks late in the game, that it was nice to see him split the uprights in overtime.
As bad as I felt for the guy, I couldn’t help but laugh as the Fox broadcast flooded my TV screen with slow-motion replays of Tynes getting chewed out on his return flight to the sideline after missing the first fourth quarter field goal. But I wasn’t cackling at Tynes’ misfortunes. No, I was rather amused with Coach Caughlin.
Did you see how wind-burned “Chap-face’s” cheeks were? Holy shnykies! His face looked more frozen than Mr. Freeze himself. Watching those replays over and over was the first time I’ve ever been excited about NOT owning an HD TV. I would hate to have seen those red-scrabbled cheeks in 1080p, and can only imagine the horror Lawrence Tynes felt as he approached “Chap-face” in person.
Seriously though, the NFC Championship game was a hard-fought battle between two classic teams that went down to the wire. It truly was a feel-good story; with Eli Manning emerging from his big brother’s shadow, Lawrence Tynes totally redeeming himself and Michael Strahan leading a stout defense after returning from retirement.
The New York Giants are now on their way to the Super Bowl, where they will try and tackle the undefeated New England Patriots. For a team that feeds on adversity and plays best with their backs to the wall, there’s not a better challenge than facing what could go down as the greatest team in NFL history.
Unless the Giants have anything to say about it.
What brilliant moron schedules a night game at Lambeau Field in January!? I mean, the field is nicknamed “The Frozen Tundra” and was home to the infamous “Ice Bowl”. What other evidence does one need to figure out that last night’s game should have been played at 2:00 in the afternoon? I think someone was playing a sick trick on both teams. Forget the teams though. I feel terrible for the fans. Every psycho who sat through that hellacious weather should be awarded a badge of honor.
Despite arctic temperatures, the game turned out to be a barnburner (pardon the cheesy cliché. I just wanted a nice juxtaposition to the frigid weather). As much as I wanted Brett Favre and the Packers to emerge victorious, I just felt so terrible for Lawrence Tynes (the Giants’ kicker) after he shanked two go-ahead kicks late in the game, that it was nice to see him split the uprights in overtime.
As bad as I felt for the guy, I couldn’t help but laugh as the Fox broadcast flooded my TV screen with slow-motion replays of Tynes getting chewed out on his return flight to the sideline after missing the first fourth quarter field goal. But I wasn’t cackling at Tynes’ misfortunes. No, I was rather amused with Coach Caughlin.
Did you see how wind-burned “Chap-face’s” cheeks were? Holy shnykies! His face looked more frozen than Mr. Freeze himself. Watching those replays over and over was the first time I’ve ever been excited about NOT owning an HD TV. I would hate to have seen those red-scrabbled cheeks in 1080p, and can only imagine the horror Lawrence Tynes felt as he approached “Chap-face” in person.
Seriously though, the NFC Championship game was a hard-fought battle between two classic teams that went down to the wire. It truly was a feel-good story; with Eli Manning emerging from his big brother’s shadow, Lawrence Tynes totally redeeming himself and Michael Strahan leading a stout defense after returning from retirement.
The New York Giants are now on their way to the Super Bowl, where they will try and tackle the undefeated New England Patriots. For a team that feeds on adversity and plays best with their backs to the wall, there’s not a better challenge than facing what could go down as the greatest team in NFL history.
Unless the Giants have anything to say about it.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Rapper's Delight
No way! You mean to tell me that 50 Cent uses steroids!? I always thought those were small Ethiopian children packed into his pectorals. Not actual human muscle mass. The man sure fooled me.
Now as for Mary J. Blidge and Wycelf Jean using “performance-enhancing drugs”, I truly was duped on that one. No wonder Wyclef has such pristine dreadlocks. That cheating bastard! To think I’ve spent the last five years rubbing cactus oil in my hair to no avail, when all I needed was a needle to the bum.
Seriously though (but not really), I’m totally confused as to the pertinence and potential impact of this news. First of all, I love how because of the incessant mentioning of steroids as “performance-enhancing drugs” in the sports world, they have now taken on this new title in every venue.
Will someone please tell me how steroids can enhance a rapper’s performance? Rumor has it that steroids shrink a man’s balls, in turn making his vocal chords vibrate more like Tweedy Bird than Isaac Hayes. Can you imagine 50 Cent boasting about how gangsta’ he is, sounding like a pre-pubescent school girl? Actually, that would be pretty damn funny. Maybe then I would actually buy his albums.
But I kid. The real reason these hip-hop icons are (apparently) popping/shooting up roids is because image is everything in American pop culture. Because we all know that a fat girl with talent gets nowhere in this country. You simply got to look good to be a pop star these days (and maybe have an inkling of talent). So that’s why the likes of 50 Cent, Wyclef, Mary J. and Timbaland have been accused of using steroids. They just want to look good.
So what? I say let them fuck up their hearts, livers, intestines and whatnot if they wish. If one can smoke a pack a day or drink a fifth a night, that person should be allowed to ruin their bodies in other ways too. And if you say that using steroids is an unfair way to build one’s body for publicity, how do you differentiate between popping roids and getting breast implants? It’s all about image.
The funniest thing that stood out to me though (in the article I read revealing this news) was how some people are predicting a backlash from fans.
Really? When was the last time one of 50 Cent’s fans gave a shit if he did something illegal? The whole foundation on which these rappers make money and accumulate fans is the exploitation of the gangsta’ lifestyle, which is rooted in illegal activity!
I can just see some impressionable teenager right now, saying, “OMG, 50 uses steroids! I can’t support him anymore. I mean, pimping hoes and slanging crack is one thing, but building unnatural amounts of muscle mass, now that’s where I draw the line!”
Please! This revelation that rappers are using steroids to enhance their physical image is non-news. If you thought 50 Cent was “all natural” in the first place, you’re an idiot. And if you think this news will shine a negative light on these rappers or the industry as a whole, you’re sadly mistaken. If T.I. can get busted for purchasing automatic weapons (and accompanying silencers) just hours before he’s supposed to perform in front of an audience of millions, and there’s no backlash, I doubt anyone will stop buying Timbaland’s records because he miraculously dropped 100 pounds without one receipt from Jenny Craig.
The only thing I’m worried about is that now stupid, naive teens will think it’s cool to start popping steroids. Think about it. Mixing steroids and unprotected sex…if this happens, I’m moving to Mars. Because even without a protective atmosphere surrounding the planet, my kids still won’t look as fucked up as a roid-baby.
*I realize this post is not directly related to sports, but due to the prevalence of steroid talk in sports media today, I figured it was worth discussing.
Now as for Mary J. Blidge and Wycelf Jean using “performance-enhancing drugs”, I truly was duped on that one. No wonder Wyclef has such pristine dreadlocks. That cheating bastard! To think I’ve spent the last five years rubbing cactus oil in my hair to no avail, when all I needed was a needle to the bum.
Seriously though (but not really), I’m totally confused as to the pertinence and potential impact of this news. First of all, I love how because of the incessant mentioning of steroids as “performance-enhancing drugs” in the sports world, they have now taken on this new title in every venue.
Will someone please tell me how steroids can enhance a rapper’s performance? Rumor has it that steroids shrink a man’s balls, in turn making his vocal chords vibrate more like Tweedy Bird than Isaac Hayes. Can you imagine 50 Cent boasting about how gangsta’ he is, sounding like a pre-pubescent school girl? Actually, that would be pretty damn funny. Maybe then I would actually buy his albums.
But I kid. The real reason these hip-hop icons are (apparently) popping/shooting up roids is because image is everything in American pop culture. Because we all know that a fat girl with talent gets nowhere in this country. You simply got to look good to be a pop star these days (and maybe have an inkling of talent). So that’s why the likes of 50 Cent, Wyclef, Mary J. and Timbaland have been accused of using steroids. They just want to look good.
So what? I say let them fuck up their hearts, livers, intestines and whatnot if they wish. If one can smoke a pack a day or drink a fifth a night, that person should be allowed to ruin their bodies in other ways too. And if you say that using steroids is an unfair way to build one’s body for publicity, how do you differentiate between popping roids and getting breast implants? It’s all about image.
The funniest thing that stood out to me though (in the article I read revealing this news) was how some people are predicting a backlash from fans.
Really? When was the last time one of 50 Cent’s fans gave a shit if he did something illegal? The whole foundation on which these rappers make money and accumulate fans is the exploitation of the gangsta’ lifestyle, which is rooted in illegal activity!
I can just see some impressionable teenager right now, saying, “OMG, 50 uses steroids! I can’t support him anymore. I mean, pimping hoes and slanging crack is one thing, but building unnatural amounts of muscle mass, now that’s where I draw the line!”
Please! This revelation that rappers are using steroids to enhance their physical image is non-news. If you thought 50 Cent was “all natural” in the first place, you’re an idiot. And if you think this news will shine a negative light on these rappers or the industry as a whole, you’re sadly mistaken. If T.I. can get busted for purchasing automatic weapons (and accompanying silencers) just hours before he’s supposed to perform in front of an audience of millions, and there’s no backlash, I doubt anyone will stop buying Timbaland’s records because he miraculously dropped 100 pounds without one receipt from Jenny Craig.
The only thing I’m worried about is that now stupid, naive teens will think it’s cool to start popping steroids. Think about it. Mixing steroids and unprotected sex…if this happens, I’m moving to Mars. Because even without a protective atmosphere surrounding the planet, my kids still won’t look as fucked up as a roid-baby.
*I realize this post is not directly related to sports, but due to the prevalence of steroid talk in sports media today, I figured it was worth discussing.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
The Mitchell Report
I don’t understand why there’s such a hubbub about the Mitchell Report.
Were that many people truly tripped out over the revelation that prominent baseball players have used steroids? Actually, what sent my synapses spinning was that someone typed over 400 pages on the subject!
So a report covering the last 5-10 years of steroid abuse in baseball is longer than The New Testament. Apparently more guys popped roids over the last few years than Jesus dished out miracles during his whole human existence. Then again, Jesus was a lanky character. Maybe he should have let Moses inject HGH in his buttocks that one night at Esther’s birthday party. Everyone was doing it.
Anyway, the Mitchell Report is no more profound than a dog licking his own butt. It plainly states the obvious. Apparently over and over and over again. I’ve heard that Roger Clemens’ name was mentioned 83 times or something. Okay, we get the point! Roger Clemens likes it in the butt (hormone injections, that is). How much paper did this guy need to waste in order to get his message to the public.
I actually think that such a blatant waste of paper is a bigger deal than jocks using steroids. All I got to say is thank God for Adobe Acrobat and the PDF. Otherwise I would hunt George Mitchell down and shove a tree up his ass! Although I guess that would also be a waste of paper.
Back to my point. How were so many people astonished by this report? Everyone knew Barry Bonds was lying about using steroids. And we all know Sammy Sosa didn’t suffer an acute attack of sudden linguistic amnesia before he testified in front of a federal grand jury. Come on people! The truth is right in front of you. Actually, most of it’s been flushed down the toilet. And the rest is still swimming around in Mark McGwire’s forearms. But you know what I’m saying.
Baseball players have been, and will continue to use performance-enhancing drugs for a while. There’s not much we can do to stop this. If scientists figure out a way to detect the undetectable, then someone will mix a few chemicals together, and there will be a new steroid on the market.
It’s a never-ending cycle. The only way to solve this problem is to totally legalize performance-enhancing drugs so that everyone has an equal opportunity to shrink their own two balls for the sake of slapping a few hundred of someone else’s over a far away fence.
Were that many people truly tripped out over the revelation that prominent baseball players have used steroids? Actually, what sent my synapses spinning was that someone typed over 400 pages on the subject!
So a report covering the last 5-10 years of steroid abuse in baseball is longer than The New Testament. Apparently more guys popped roids over the last few years than Jesus dished out miracles during his whole human existence. Then again, Jesus was a lanky character. Maybe he should have let Moses inject HGH in his buttocks that one night at Esther’s birthday party. Everyone was doing it.
Anyway, the Mitchell Report is no more profound than a dog licking his own butt. It plainly states the obvious. Apparently over and over and over again. I’ve heard that Roger Clemens’ name was mentioned 83 times or something. Okay, we get the point! Roger Clemens likes it in the butt (hormone injections, that is). How much paper did this guy need to waste in order to get his message to the public.
I actually think that such a blatant waste of paper is a bigger deal than jocks using steroids. All I got to say is thank God for Adobe Acrobat and the PDF. Otherwise I would hunt George Mitchell down and shove a tree up his ass! Although I guess that would also be a waste of paper.
Back to my point. How were so many people astonished by this report? Everyone knew Barry Bonds was lying about using steroids. And we all know Sammy Sosa didn’t suffer an acute attack of sudden linguistic amnesia before he testified in front of a federal grand jury. Come on people! The truth is right in front of you. Actually, most of it’s been flushed down the toilet. And the rest is still swimming around in Mark McGwire’s forearms. But you know what I’m saying.
Baseball players have been, and will continue to use performance-enhancing drugs for a while. There’s not much we can do to stop this. If scientists figure out a way to detect the undetectable, then someone will mix a few chemicals together, and there will be a new steroid on the market.
It’s a never-ending cycle. The only way to solve this problem is to totally legalize performance-enhancing drugs so that everyone has an equal opportunity to shrink their own two balls for the sake of slapping a few hundred of someone else’s over a far away fence.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Whatever It Takes
Have you ever tried so damn hard to lose, that you ended up winning?
No?
Neither have I.
Losing is about as fun as an emo concert. Lots of unnecessary pain and confusion.
But I digress.
The point is that I just witnessed the Houston Rockets try valiantly to blow a nationally televised game against the Detroit Pistons. We tried so damn hard! But after 48 grueling minutes, the Rockets failed and emerged victorious.
After two straight losses in which they played more like the St. Paul Alter Boys of the U-12 Reverend’s league than an NBA team, you would think the Rockets would play up to big boy standards against Detroit.
Not exactly.
On the same day the Houston Chronicle posts an article with a Yao Ming sized chart listing every category the Rockets suck at, the team decides to up the anti. Apparently they thought 74% free throw shooting was too good. So why not add another category to that list of things they suck at.
Free throws.
How’s 27.3% for ya’? That’s 6 for 22. How clutch.
Especially considering you’re playing one of the elite teams in the league at home on national television wearing throwback jerseys to commemorate an era when short shorts frolicked and free throws fell. How do you choose such an elemental night to try and lose a game.
One might say they just weren’t trying hard enough.
I disagree.
It wasn’t just the free throws. We knew 27.3% might not be enough to lose. So we deemed it prudent to go ahead and miss a whole slew of lay-ups and easy shots as well.
I mean, if you shoot 6 for 22 from the charity line AND miss easy baskets, how can you win?
The Rockets obviously thought it would be enough to lose.
But somehow, someway, Sumner Redstone, the Rockets beat the Detroit Pistons and regained an edge in their battle against mediocrity. It’s amazing how this team works. They constantly throw their loyal fans into an emotional labyrinth of pain and confusion. Just like an emo concert.
That’s just how we roll. Better get used to it.
Welcome to the roller coaster ride that is The Houston Rockets.
No?
Neither have I.
Losing is about as fun as an emo concert. Lots of unnecessary pain and confusion.
But I digress.
The point is that I just witnessed the Houston Rockets try valiantly to blow a nationally televised game against the Detroit Pistons. We tried so damn hard! But after 48 grueling minutes, the Rockets failed and emerged victorious.
After two straight losses in which they played more like the St. Paul Alter Boys of the U-12 Reverend’s league than an NBA team, you would think the Rockets would play up to big boy standards against Detroit.
Not exactly.
On the same day the Houston Chronicle posts an article with a Yao Ming sized chart listing every category the Rockets suck at, the team decides to up the anti. Apparently they thought 74% free throw shooting was too good. So why not add another category to that list of things they suck at.
Free throws.
How’s 27.3% for ya’? That’s 6 for 22. How clutch.
Especially considering you’re playing one of the elite teams in the league at home on national television wearing throwback jerseys to commemorate an era when short shorts frolicked and free throws fell. How do you choose such an elemental night to try and lose a game.
One might say they just weren’t trying hard enough.
I disagree.
It wasn’t just the free throws. We knew 27.3% might not be enough to lose. So we deemed it prudent to go ahead and miss a whole slew of lay-ups and easy shots as well.
I mean, if you shoot 6 for 22 from the charity line AND miss easy baskets, how can you win?
The Rockets obviously thought it would be enough to lose.
But somehow, someway, Sumner Redstone, the Rockets beat the Detroit Pistons and regained an edge in their battle against mediocrity. It’s amazing how this team works. They constantly throw their loyal fans into an emotional labyrinth of pain and confusion. Just like an emo concert.
That’s just how we roll. Better get used to it.
Welcome to the roller coaster ride that is The Houston Rockets.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Step Up
Here we go again. Another Tracy McGrady injury. Another uninspiring performance by the Houston Rockets at the end of a game.
The Rockets’ inconsistencies are almost more frustrating than watching George W. Bush speak. How can you surge back from an 18-point deficit (without TMac), take a brief lead, and then end the game without a field goal for the final five-plus minutes?! During which, a single possession presents itself with at least three wide open looks for a tying 3-pointer, followed by a buzzer-beating attempt for another tying tre after a perfectly executed intentional free-throw miss by Yao Ming. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!
What’s going on? How can one team be so good, yet so bad? Reminds me of the Clutch City vs. Choke City days of yore. This stressful inconsistency seems to be an inescapable trait of the Rockets year in year out.
Anyway, the Rockets lost another game within their grasp. What can you do but learn from it. Time to move on. And for roughly one week, the Rockets will be moving on without lazy-eyed superstar, Tracy McGrady.
TMac, the superglue that holds the Rockets together, will ride the bench for a few games with an elbow injury. What impeccable timing for the team’s go-to-guy to get hurt—right before the Rockets launch in to a threesome with the Spurs, Suns and Mavericks.
The week ahead will prove to be a pivotal one for the Rockets. The team will have to cope without TMac, forcing Yao Ming to exert himself as the Great Wall that he is. Other players will also be forced to step up their game. Perhaps this is where we’ll witness the second coming of Steve Francis. Or maybe the emergence of the team’s new little man, Aaron Brooks.
Chuck Hayes came out of nowhere to grab rebounds along with a starting spot in the Rockets’ rotation last year. Who’s going to step up this year and add a third head to the monster that is YaoMac?
The Rockets’ inconsistencies are almost more frustrating than watching George W. Bush speak. How can you surge back from an 18-point deficit (without TMac), take a brief lead, and then end the game without a field goal for the final five-plus minutes?! During which, a single possession presents itself with at least three wide open looks for a tying 3-pointer, followed by a buzzer-beating attempt for another tying tre after a perfectly executed intentional free-throw miss by Yao Ming. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!
What’s going on? How can one team be so good, yet so bad? Reminds me of the Clutch City vs. Choke City days of yore. This stressful inconsistency seems to be an inescapable trait of the Rockets year in year out.
Anyway, the Rockets lost another game within their grasp. What can you do but learn from it. Time to move on. And for roughly one week, the Rockets will be moving on without lazy-eyed superstar, Tracy McGrady.
TMac, the superglue that holds the Rockets together, will ride the bench for a few games with an elbow injury. What impeccable timing for the team’s go-to-guy to get hurt—right before the Rockets launch in to a threesome with the Spurs, Suns and Mavericks.
The week ahead will prove to be a pivotal one for the Rockets. The team will have to cope without TMac, forcing Yao Ming to exert himself as the Great Wall that he is. Other players will also be forced to step up their game. Perhaps this is where we’ll witness the second coming of Steve Francis. Or maybe the emergence of the team’s new little man, Aaron Brooks.
Chuck Hayes came out of nowhere to grab rebounds along with a starting spot in the Rockets’ rotation last year. Who’s going to step up this year and add a third head to the monster that is YaoMac?
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