The Lakers and the Spurs played an epic contest last night. With 12 seconds to go, Kobe Bryant drilled a three right in the eye of Roger Mason, giving L.A. a 111-109 advantage. Kobe followed this feat with the greatest dance known to mankind: the Sam Cassell Big Balls Dance.
There was only one problem: you have to back up your claim to enormous testicles. Mason followed Kobe’s bucket with a ridiculous three-point play, giving the Spurs a one-point lead with ten seconds to go.
Kobe’s response? Instead of doing the manly thing, and drilling another shot to show his pair reigned supreme, he passed off to Trevor Ariza. Who travelled. Game, blouses.
The Sam Cassell Dance is a sacred one. Don’t go infuriating the basketball gods, Kobe. Keep an eye out next time you play Reggie Evans.
Also: two new additions to The S#!t On List. Hit the link at the top of the page.
Hello all. Around these parts, I go by Overdramatica, and with Mr. Snappy we form Homer Eroticism (it’s like The Ambiguously Gay Duo, without all the ambiguity). My goal is to make you laugh out loud, but in the way that makes you feel guilty, or even filthy, for doing so.
Mr. Snappy, of course, is the gay one.
By the time I hit high school, I realized that my less-than-spectacular frame would not lead me to athletic glory (I now stand an imposing 5-11, 140 lbs. If the body is a temple, then mine is this one). I chose to go down the much easier path: watching a ton of sports while surrounding myself with other people who do much the same. When people happen to be as openly vulgar and hilarious as the ones I keep company with, the possibilities for amazing blog fodder are virtually limitless.
My partner in crime has done a tremendous job of describing the general feelings of this blog (and we’ll further introduce you to our outlook on sports in The Manifesto), so I’ll give you a quick introduction to myself:
- There is nothing better than the emotion that comes from playing and watching sports. I love watching a baseball manager flipping out in a fashion that is only acceptable on a baseball diamond (bonus points for fake-grenade tossing), 30000 drunk college students rushing the field after a once-in-a-lifetime upset victory, and yes, watching the devastation of a particularly hated fanbase.
Quit crying before I ... hold that thought, Cherokee Parks is here with my pizza.
- I fully support the NBA having an adjustable rim for the Dunk Contest. That, or sticking Alonzo Mourning right in front of the rim with weights on his feet. Fuck you and your damn kidneys, Zo. Enjoy flossing Dwight Howard’s pubic hair out from between your teeth.
- Bias is what makes arguing about sports great. Also, I believe that if sports fans had no bias they’d all believe that Barry Sanders is the greatest running back to ever walk the earth, Steve Yzerman is the greatest captain in any sport, and Charles Woodson is the greatest collegiate football player since Red Grange. I will take these opinions intractable facts to my grave.
- There is nothing more glorious than Sam Cassell’s testicle dance:
Lance Armstrong cries every time he sees Sam dance.
Believe or not, I have hundreds (maybe even thousands!) of opinions, but putting them all in my introductory post would defeat the point of this whole “blog” thing. Get excited, but not too excited, or you’ll end up like …