In the aftermath of another joyless loss on Saturday that explored new depths of meaninglessness, there’s only one thing that will make me feel better: skewering Shawn Marion. Bashing him is like my blog comfort food, especially without McInnis and Primoz to kick around anymore. But before I get started, did anyone else notice the “repetition”-themed series between Atlanta and Philly? Check it out: they played twice (home-and-home), and the games featured 2 Andre’s, 2 Josh’s, 2 Smith’s, 2 Williams’, and 2 Za’s. I had to bust out Jay’s “22 Two’s” to honor the occasion. If only Atlanta hadn’t traded Anthony Johnson and Sheldon Williams, because then we could have had 2 Johnson’s and 3 Williams’.

Anyway, onto Marion. In the latest SLAM Magazine issue, he has an “op-ed” piece—I guess you’d call it—about leaving Phoenix for Miami. This rambling, nonsensical monologue makes me wish the creators of Mystery Science Theatre 3000 would start a magazine solely for the purpose of satirizing interviews. Here’s my take on it (comments in bold) (note: #’s indicate the running count of empty clichés, and check out that last paragraph when he goes on a Houston Rockets-like streak of them—it’s a real tour-de-force).

All right, I just want to make it clear and state for the record why I wanted out of Phoenix (he goes onto do neither). Actually let me change that: It wasn’t so much that I wanted to get out of Phoenix, but more so, always hearing my name in trade rumors really started to get to me (rumors that he started by constantly telling reporters how unloved he was—there was even a whole book on it). I love Phoenix. I played there for nine years and the fans were nothing but good to me. Time has really gone by (#1–it tends to do that); it doesn’t even feel like I’ve been in the League for nine years (huh? Okay, there’s your clear explanation).

I’ve been watching (the Suns) play lately and I think they do miss me a little bit. I do stuff on the floor they probably won’t be able to replace, but they have great players and they will be OK. What’s done is done (#2). Sometimes things happen (#3–actually, all the time things happen); God works in mysterious ways (#4—what’s mysterious about pouting until you get traded?). I wish those guys the best of luck. I have nothing but love for them (#5—nothing but good, nothing but love—quit with the “nothing buts”). That’s all I can do (huh? what’s all he can do?). This is a business (#6—just in case that first explanation wasn’t clear enough, I guess he’s elaborating). But I really don’t want to talk about that stuff anymore (not that he’s really said anything useful yet), because that’s what everybody keeps talking about (sort of a variation on “nobody goes there anymore; it’s too crowded”—although I doubt that’s what Marion was aiming for). People are saying this and that (#7) and nobody’s getting it right (thank goodness we have his clear explanations). To be honest, it’s nobody’s business (umm, it sort of is when he’s a public figure; he and Chelsea both need to talk to someone about this). The people who need to know, know (translation: this doesn’t include any of you suckers). So I don’t even want to talk about it no more (in conclusion: he was tired of people talking, things happen, and time goes by—any questions?).

My first couple of games with Miami…well, I guess you can say it’s been different from what I’m used to. I’m so used to playing in Phoenix, having on one jersey and coming here putting on a whole new jersey in a new arena, it feels so weird. My emotions are high, my nerves at an all-time high. It’s still the same game, but it feels different, you know (“different,” “weird,” and “different,”—I do know). The atmosphere here (Miami) is unbelievable though. The fans are great, the teammates are great (sure they’re not “nothing but great”?), the coaching staff—what more can you ask for (insert first “Pat Riley abandoning team to scout NCAA games” joke here)? I can see myself in Miami for a long time. I’m trying to build a home here (unclear if this is literal or figurative); I want to grow with Dwyane Wade (ditto, and perhaps this line sounded less creepy than it looks on paper). Why not (why not “grow” with D-Wade? Is that what he’s asking?)? Coach Mike D’Antoni has a certain system, and Coach Riley has a certain system. There is a big difference in the tempo of the game (I’m assuming it’s also “weird”). Everybody has their own way of approaching the game, and I was used to doing certain way for a while in Phoenix. Now it’s time to adjust (different, weird, need to adjust, he really paints a picture, doesn’t he, folks? I feel like I’m there). You have to respect Coach Riley’s way of coaching, because he has rings and that speaks for itself (insert second “Pat Riley abandoning team to scout NCAA games” joke here). It’s a learning curve for me, you know, because when you are used to winning and you come to a whole new environment and you start losing games, it’s definitely a challenge. “Extremely hard” is a better way to put it (this last move clearly exhausted poor Shawn—witness the next two sentences). Nobody wants to lose, but I guess sometimes you have to lose. Everybody can’t win (#8—can’t even comment here, too busy falling out of my chair).

(They come fast and furious now; he really finishes strong) At the end of the day (#9), you live and you learn (#10). All I can do is compete the best way I know how (#11). I have no hard feelings toward any of my teammates past or present (I certainly hope he doesn’t have anything against his present teammates—he just got there!). Things happen (#12—wait, I thought that was only sometimes!). We move on (#13). (Take it home, Shawn) We just gotta do what we gotta do (#14). (If this interview were a concert, Shawn would leave the stage, the fans would beg for an encore, and he’d come out one last time and perform “It is what it is”).

Ahh. Thanks, Shawn. I feel better…Enjoy him, Miami!

This afternoon The Phoenix Suns have completed a deal to send Shawn Marion to the Miami Heat in exchange for Shaquille O’neal. The 53 year old Shaq is currently weighing in at a robust 446 pounds and hasn’t been completely healthy since the early days of the Richard Nixon administration… Seems like a great fit for Phoenix’s run and gun offense to me. Throwing in the fact that Shaq carries a cap figure that would make Bill Gates blush means that this is a lock to go down as the most idiotic trade of all time.

Via azcentral.com , Shaq promises that he will not let Steve Nash Down

Although O’Neal has been out with a hip injury, there is a belief that
he will pass the physical because he is in great condition and is said
to be at 312 pounds (down from his listed 325 pounds) with low body
fat.

He seems to be a motivated player too, having jumped on a plane this
morning after talking to several of the Suns, such as Steve Nash and
Amaré Stoudemire, on Tuesday night.

"I will not let you down," O’Neal told Nash on the phone.

In Bobcats news,  The Charlotte Business Journal is reporting that they are closing in on a deal for naming rights for the arena

"We’re involved in negotiations, and we’re making good progress,"
says Sue Breckenridge, Time Warner Cable vice president of public
affairs. "We’re close to finalizing a deal."

She declines to discuss any specifics but says the talks are aimed
at keeping the Bobcats’ games available to Time Warner Cable customers.

Thumbs Up: Tim Duncan
I have to admit, I downplayed San Antonio’s Game 1 victory in Phoenix, because a) Steve Nash was neutralized in the final minute, and b) I didn’t think Tim Duncan would be able to duplicate his 33-point/16-rebound/3-block performance.  But although his teammates have been inconsistent, Duncan’s been a rock, a Simonian-Garfunklian island.  He got 29/11/2 in Game 2, and 33/19/3 on Saturday.  Basically, he not only duplicated Game 1, he’s sending out mass distros of it. 
 
Thumbs Sideways: The Phoenix Suns
I still think Phoenix can, um, rise again, provided Nash rallies his troops.  I think Steve is secretly thankful for that bloody nose, because it gives him street cred (look what public bleeding did for Curt Schilling)—it’s like when a rapper gets shot.  Steve has now become the “Fabolous” of the NBA: both were formerly well-respected in their professions but not really regarded as tough, and now Steve’s been bloodied and Fab’s been shot.  On the other hand, there’s a limit to how much of a beating one can take before it becomes counterproductive, and I think Nash reached that threshold in Game 3 when he went down in a heap after Bruce Bowen did a “Lord of the Dance” number on his testicles.  Watching him flop to the floor in agony, I thought that if only Nash had Sandman-like powers, then Bowen’s knee could have burst through harmlessly like Spiderman’s punch.  As for Fab, I’m fully expecting at least 2-3 references to his gunshot wound per song on his upcoming album–anything less would be a totally wasted opportunity.         
 
Thumbs Down: My dog’s teeth
Lincoln is a non-stop chewing machine.  He’s gone through three power chords, a mouse chord, two turntables, a microphone (not really), my flip-flops, and a chair.  When I locked him in the kitchen the other day and removed all furniture, he actually began chewing the wall.  Sometimes I just let him gnaw on my hand—even though it hurts, at least I can be sure he’s not destroying something else.  Has anyone ever tried to feed a dog Bubblicious (if only I’d kept some of that awful military surplus gum that Topps used to put in their packs of baseball cards)?  We got him this little muzzle made of cloth, but it took me more time to get it out of its plastic container than it did for him to chew through it.  So now I think I'm going to have to up the ante and get him some sort of Hannibal Lecter mask…  

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