There's an interesting article I came across through Bill Simmons links today. Its a eulogy (according to my second grade teacher that should be an eulogy) to Isiah Thomas' New York Knickerbockers. In light of the 180 our beloved Blazers have gone through, the unbelievable character our players have, and the unexpected honesty and aptitude of our front office; this is a gut-wrenching article where I expected a weeks worth of laughs:
It makes me feel sorry for Knicks fans because this nightmare is far from over. The culture there is sickening (bugging the walls of MSG, distrust, selfishness, and failure). It also makes me feel sorry for guys like David Lee, Nate Robinson, and Ronaldo Balkman who all of us saw work their butts off when we played them. The article describes Leandro Barbosa feeling sick when "a prankster said they had traded for him. 'My heart was hurting,'" No one wants to be traded there, and no one can leave. I even feel a little bad for Zach, because even though he's a selfish anus, he had no idea what was waiting for him in NYC. Don't get me wrong, a little sympathy doesn't make me want this back:
Randolph’s most telling play of the year came in a December bludgeoning by Indiana, when he got upset over a missed foul call. Back on defense, he took up his harangue with the baseline official, flapping his arms in frustration. Which might not have been so bad, save that Randolph was supposed to be guarding Troy Murphy, who’d stopped twenty-odd feet away to do what he did best: bomb a three-pointer. When Randolph saw Murphy get the ball, he turned and stepped toward him—duty called, after all—but ultimately couldn’t be bothered and wandered back to the ref, still jabbering. Murphy could have set up a surveyor’s tool and downed a macchiato. As the ball splashed through the net, Randolph bared a flash of annoyance, though not an iota of chagrin.