Tuesday, January 10, 2006


Our 100th posting

Tonight's game was so much more than a game, thus it will get no recap. You see, instead of a mere basketball contest between two sub-.500 teams, what we saw tonight was a procession of improbable holy moments gifted by higher powers to bring succor to Danny Ainge and Fox Sports New England. Yes, tonight we witnessed a huge step towards absolutely nowhere that will establish FSN's editorial slant for at least the next ten games. Are you ready for this? Brian Scalabrine is a "solid" player! That's right, solid! You thought he sucked and was an embarrassment to the team and Danny Ainge deserves heaps of scorn for having ever signed him? Well fuck you Charlie, you're wrong! This big white fuck had an offensive rebound! He put the ball back! He played some defense! He's a likely Nobel laureate!

Errrrrrrrr. Too much. What they mean is that Brian Scalabrine ("Scals" remember, not "Veal," our new favorite Celtic of all time does not like being called "Veal") is exactly like a bottle of vintage wine found in the locked basement of your dead uncle's house... no, too weird... it's that he's like a modern day Jesus only without the spiritual backstory... no, might be overstating it... it's more like he's 1986 era Bill Walton but without the talent (bad) or stoned mumbling and undercurrent of brain damage (good!). Hmmm. Fuck it, whatever it is, Tommy loves it and you should too, and if you don't, you're an asshole! Also, you probably are retarded and think the Celtics get pretty much what they deserve from the referees and that Paul Pierce won't be a hall of famer.

So in honor of this occasion, and the Celtics managing to not lose 3 games to the Hawks, I have composed the following oration:

"To Brian Scalabrine, the slavishly praised hero of this evening, you have had your last tender moments in the embrace of the jealous lover that is DNP-CD, and now you have been set free to trip all over yourself, shoot 37% and turn the ball over in key spots for the rest of the season, probably between 8 and 28 minutes a game. Yes, Ryan Gomes, that means you will continue wearing fine suits and dress shirts to the arena and watch from courtside as this honkey stiff soaks up all the burn that is rightly yours (liked tonight's black suit/muted purple shirt combo by the way, very Chestnutt-ian). Justin "Can't" Reed? You better just start taking those evening French classes at the learning annex because you'll be playing your brand of unwatchable ball across the pond in 07, while Brian Scalabrine contributes to 'great practices' here in the states. Al Jefferson? Dude, you've got to go for like 10 points 8 rebounds in the first 3 minutes of play, otherwise there's a big dumb honkey ready to share the floor with Mark Blount and participate in the important process of 'doing the little things.' Speaking of 'doing the little things,' has anyone here ever fucked a midget? Yes? No? Sorry, it's not important. Onward. Perk, well, Perk, there aren't enough tea leaves in China to predict what's going to happen to you on any given night, so, uhhh, stay ready. Delonte, you used to be the default 'good story' for the broadcast to lean on during ugly times, but your ass is on notice, there's a new overachiever in town. His name, in case you didn't catch it..."

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