Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Sixers vs. Heat: Game 2 Breakdown. Is it Time to Die?

I want Belinelli to kiss my belly. 

There’s an old saying: You live by the three, you die from cancer. It’s completely untrue. You can also die from AIDS or dysentery or in my case, sad and alone, from some sort of undiagnosed rectum infection, as I complain to my Jamaican nurse about Robert Covington being wildly inconsistent.

I mean, as much as I love guys shooting the ball directly into the backboard, and Marco Belinelli taking off-balance fadeaway 27-footers, you can’t rely on just shooting threes. Just like you can’t survive on only eating meatball hoagies. That being said, I have eaten meatball hoagies for three, mayyyyyyyybe four, of my last five meals and will obviously die from them.

I think it’s clear that the Sixers need some sort of inside presence to get them some easy buckets. If only they had a 7-foot, skilled, athletic, hilarious African man who had a personal vendetta against the Heat’s starting center and an unrelenting desire to play.


Oh well. Amir Johnson was serviceable.

Of course, it’s not Embiid’s fault that the Sixers lost. They just got outplayed—specifically by a 36-year-old, possibly bloated, legend. We knew D Wade was going to go off at some point, I just didn't expect it to be on a night when tip-off took place literally a half an hour before his bedtime.

The truth is, even though Kelly Olynyk and Justise Winslow are certified bitchmaids, I kinda like how physically the Heat played, and you can't deny that they have some certified goat master generals.

Goran Dragic is a BEAST (who shoots the most adorable little floaters).

Head might've actually exploded three seconds after this photo was taken. 

Ronde DiVincenzo's tooth is hilarious.

AND an Abe Lincoln beard. 

And James Johnson seems like a real one.

He’s even got a ridiculous neck tattoo that says something like MAYMAY.

It obviously doesn't say Maymay. 

Turns out (and I did some research on this, seriously), it actually says "NAYMIN 3.9.13"—in honor of his son who was born prematurely on that date and battled for his life. So that's nice for them.

Plus, when Johnson was on the Grizzlies, they had a neck tattoo giveaway in his honor, which is pretty much the most incredible giveaway in the history of giveaways.

L, O, and then follow that up with another L. 

By the way, further research (aka a Wikipedia search) showed that James Johnson was arrested in 2014 for beating and choking his wife. So fuck that guy.

I always thought a cool gimmick would be to make NBA shooting sleeves—or form-fitting, long-sleeve shirts—with individual player’s tattoos on them. Like you could get an Iverson one that had "HOLD MY OWN" and "ONLY THE STRONG SURVIVE" on each arm. We could call them "Sleeversons." Boom, four million dollar idea.

Sadly, the series is now all tied up at one.

I do NOT have four million dollars.

And Hal Greer is dead.

What a lousy time to be alive.

Until Thursday.


  1. Sleeversons is the best business idea ever! Like, for real. People would buy them with their money. Please, please, please make it happen.

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