The NBA Is Back! Time For Some Shit Talking!

The NBA season kicks off tonight as LeBron attempts to become a gotdamn Super Saiyan again and obliterate every gotdamn opponent in his path. I haven’t said anything about LeBron since I wrote some dumb shit about him accepting blame for his role in cultivating Cleveland’s glaring weaknesses. The Warriors were up 3-to-1 in the Finals when I wrote that. I thought the series was over. EVERYONE THOUGHT IT WAS OVER! I’m pretty sure the folks over at Under Armour were printing “Curry Is The 2nd Coming” t-shirts to commemorate the baby-faced assassin’s back-to-back title run. Ayesha was just waiting to unleash their bad-ass, annoying child on the podium so my ears could bleed. Little did I know Draymond would do some Draymond shit — like punch LeBron in his meat sack — after LeBron did some LeBron shit — like rub his meat sack on Draymond’s head — earning a pivotal Game 5 suspension.

I also didn’t realize Steph Curry’s and Klay Thompson’s light-skinnedness would cause them to be bitch-made, self-destructive assholes, incapable of hitting the very shots that earned them the nickname of “Splash Brothers.” And I had no Earthly clue Kyrie Irving was really about that buckets life after dressing up in a fat suit and some makeup to peddle Pepsi’s sugar water. I was wrong. LeBron James made sure of that.

Anywho, things are a little bit different this time around. The Warriors went out and paid Kevin Durant a bunch of money to essentially make their team a real-life cheat code. Golden State’s vaunted “Death Lineup” swaps out Harrison Barnes — who apparently was found in Dallas after Steve Kerr reported him missing during the NBA Finals — for Durantula. And if the preseason is any indication, it’s going to be a fucking nightmare for every team that doesn’t call Oracle Arena home. I usually don’t put much stock in preseason basketball, mostly because it’s more useless than preseason football.

But during the time Curry, Thompson, Iguodala, Durant, and Green have shared the floor they have ransacked e’erbody. See Exhibit A here. Durant has shown an uncanny tenacity on the defensive end of the floor while still harnessing one of the most lethal offensive arsenals in the league. That’s only going to give Steph and Klay (aka Jon B.) more space to shoot as if they even need it. Andre is still a playmaking machine, and although Draymond continues to recklessly perform flying lotus kicks while grabbing rebounds, he’s still the best two-way, plus-minus player in the league. Steve Kerr is both smart enough and accomplished enough to lead this team to a redeeming championship. Plus he has one of the most talented coaching staffs at his disposal after replacing Luke Walton with seasoned veteran coach Mike Brown.

Golden State’s reserves got better too with the addition of David West, Zaza Pachulia, and “Shaqtin’ A Fool All-Star” JaVale McGhee. Let’s not forget about Shaun Livingston and Ian Clark, the best backcourt reserves to the best starting backcourt in the NBA. The Warriors, barring injury and utter fuckery, are almost guaranteed to return to the NBA Finals en route to destroying the lofty records they set just one year ago. Hell, maybe they’ll win 80 games, although that’s probably preposterous.

There are some other interesting storylines league-wide as the West is full of intrigue. Will the Clippers finally realize their full potential and give Paul Pierce a proper send off with a trip to the Western Conference Finals? How much does Russ hate Durant and how violently will he play now that he’s the only Alpha Dog in OKC? Now that Tim Duncan is off to crease his Girbaud jeans, how will Pop maximize and develop the two-headed monster of Kawhi Leonard and LaMarcus Aldridge? Can Harden possibly play less defense this year? And are the Trailblazers the younger version of the Warriors?

The East is far less interesting. The Bulls shipped Mr. Glass (D. Rose) and an awkward big man with two left feet (J. Noah) to the Knicks and added a guard who can’t shoot outside of 10-feet (Michael Carter-Williams) and a past-their-prime D. Wade and Rajon Rondo. If Chicago would have signed Wade and Rondo 5 years ago then maybe it’d mean something. It doesn’t. Madison Square Garden is now home to a bunch of ball-dominant shooters, one of whom doesn’t seem to understand the concept of sexual consent (D. Rose). And the Raptors are still paying Aubrey Graham to be their hype man. The only team reasonably capable of challenging LeBron and Co. are the Pacers — after adding Jeff Teague, Al Jefferson, and Monta Ellis — and the Celtics, who may or may not be supremely overrated.

All that said, we’re probably going to witness a Cavs vs. Warriors trilogy in the Finals. We likely know what’s going to happen which makes this upcoming regular-season almost pointless to watch. It’s not nearly as bad as Roger Goodell’s NFL, but it’s still kinda pointless. The only way this NBA season is going to be enjoyable is if the Warriors talk shit every gotdamn game. I mean Kobe Bryant and Kevin Garnet amounts of shit. Just because they can, and there’s not a gotdamn thing anyone can do about it. At least until June.

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C’mon Kevin!!!

Earlier this wondrous Independence Day holiday, Kevin Durant decided to write some bullshit (it wasn’t bullshit, I’m just pissed off right now) on The Players’ Tribune about why he’s taking his lanky ass and impressive basketball skills to the Bay Area. Unlike some people, I respect his decision. Joining Golden State assuredly guarantees that the self-proclaimed Easy Money Sniper will obtain his first NBA title, and most likely a Finals MVP, since the younger Wardell Curry loves performing disappearing acts once the calendar hits June. I like Kevin Durant. I admire his game, I wear his slept-on, dope-ass shoes (fuck y’all, them KD 8s are hard), and I even rooted for him when he took on the Greatest Team to Never Win a Championship in the Western Conference Finals (I still don’t understand how y’all lost 3 straight games, b). Simply put, Durantula is taking a better job, and I can’t be mad at the brother for enhancing his employment status. But Kev is fucking shit up for me. Seriously, this man is killing my motherfucking vibe.

First off, I will never be able to play NBA 2K17. EVERY NEGRO IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE IS GOING TO PICK THIS TEAM!!!! EVERYONE GOT DAMMIT!!!! And they will most likely dominate the living shit out of every opponent. That means the little time that I devoted to pummeling snot-nosed teenagers and over-zealous adults to reduce my stress and increase my dopamine levels is gone. I will now be forced to fill this two-hour window with something more productive, like working out, or volunteering, or some other self-fulfilling, positive shit like that. My shit-talking video game days are officially on hiatus until further notice.

Second, I’m going to endure the unadulterated, obnoxious, egotistical bullshit of Stephen A. Smith and Michael Wilbon. These two faux journalistic blowhards will undoubtedly use every ounce of airtime attributed to them to discredit and dismantle Durant’s character, manhood, and Blackness. They will talk about how this is the worse thing a superstar athlete could ever do on the face of the fucking planet (I pretty sure Aaron Hernandez did the worst shit ANY athlete could do) and that no Hall of Fame caliber player would have ever dreamt of joining the team that just dismantled them a few months prior in a hard-fought, contentious series. They will make my ears bleed as I tune into ESPN to watch baseball highlights, impatiently anticipating the upcoming NFL season. (COME THE FUCK ON ALREADY AUGUST!!!!!)

And it will get worse. More faux journalists (like Jason Whitlock) and more blowhards (like Colin Cowherd) will fling their ill-conceived takes the way a gorilla does his shit. They will use big “L” words like “legacy” and “loyalty” in describing their disapproval of Durant’s decision. They will call him a hypocrite for doing the very thing he criticized LeBron for when he made “The Decision.” Pretty soon the idiots that tune into this fabricated nonsense will absorb it as gospel and began to permeate the places I find refuge in by regurgitating these felonious opinions as their own. Barbershops, rec centers, golf courses and churches will become a wasteland of bullshit Durant driven debates.

“Jordan would’ve never done no shit like that. Magic would’ve done no shit like that. Kareem would’ve never done no shit like that. These young niggas ain’t loyal in the game. The game done changed.” I will hear this word pollution to exhaustion, with the clamoring noise coming to fever pitch once the Rio Olympics commences (an Olympics that shouldn’t be happening at all) and we witness 3/4 of the Fearsome Four that will obliterate the entire fucking NBA next season (it will probably be a joy to watch too).

This is worse than LeBron’s departure to South Beach when he united with D-Wade and some raptor-looking dude named Chris Bosh. The Warriors have been to two consecutive NBA Finals, winning the first and blowing the second. They now have the league’s last 3 MVPs (“The real MVP” Durant, an unsuspecting Curry and the video game Curry who didn’t miss from inside of 90 feet until the Finals). The 2010 Miami possessed a mere likely-hood of becoming the NBA Champs. There was uncertainty in their union that allowed haters to discredit their claim to the iron throne that is the Larry O-Brien trophy.

That doesn’t exist with these Warriors. Barring injury, it’s a foregone conclusion that they will reach the NBA Finals, en route to setting wins, offensive efficiency, and overall fun records. They now have 4 of the NBA’s top 10 players and a deep bench to compliment them. Their coach is both savvy and accomplished enough to command the respect of his players. Egos will be snuffed out with Sandlotesque jubilation and chipper buoyancy.

Hence, my third and final gripe; the Warriors are going to render the upcoming NBA season pointless to watch. It’s painfully ironic that the television contract that allowed for this union to happen is going to be a huge waste of fucking money. The only advertisers that will be willing to shell out cash to satiate ESPN’s mammoth deal are the companies that employ a player on (self-proclaimed tech god and NBA guru) Joe Lacob’s payroll (Under Armour, Nike, Britta, State Farm Insurance, American Family Insurance, Anta, Sprint, etc.).

Witnessing the Warriors reign will be the closest thing to state-sponsored television the U.S. will produce; we know what’s going to happen already, but we’re forced to watch because they’re going to be on ALL THE FUCKING TIME!!!!

So enjoy yourself, Durant. I look forward to your mother sitting next to the picturesque Curry family (wait, can you imagine the Moms Club of the Warriors now? Can we get a reality television look at the life of Sonya, Mary, and Wanda together eating Sunday brunch? Seriously, Bravo, make this shit happen), decked out in a rhinestone, royal blue, and California yellow jersey, screaming in joy as you dunk on the Cleveland LeBronites next year. But just know you’ve made my life difficult. Because haters gon’ hate, and you just supplied them with a ten month arsenal of industrial-grade napalm.

Kevin, I Hope This Keeps You Up At Night

I was fully prepared to embrace an NBA Finals completely void of the Golden State Warriors. For as unlikely as it was, the greatest regular season team the NBA has ever seen was now in jeopardy of being reduced to nothing more than a few hilarious “Crying Jordan” memes. It was fitting that their disappointing fate would come at the hands of an underachieving foe that employs two of the game’s most dynamic stars. The consummate basketball team from Oakland (that features a pair of Al B. Sure golden boys – one of whom is the league’s first ever unanimous regular season MVP – and thrive on precision, timing and fun) were about to be aptly undone by a pair of wildly athletic, unpredictable, angry dudes, a Kiwi sporting an impressive mustache and a beautifully gifted, 7’0″ Congolese-Spaniard who hits 3 pointers as fluid as he blocks shots. Oh, the joys of juxtaposition.

With less than 6 minutes left in the 4th quarter of Saturday’s pivotal Game 6, the Thunder were poised to knock off everyone’s favorite sweethearts. After all, they were up by seven playing before a raucous home crowd at Chesapeake Arena. During their two previous trips to Oklahoma City, the Warriors were annihilated by a combined 51 points. They fell victim to consecutive losses for the first time since basketball became an actual sport and not just a casual hobby at the YMCA (or since last year’s NBA Finals against the Cleveland Cavaliers).

The stage was set. All Durant and Westbrook needed to do was be who’ve they’ve been over the past couple weeks and set in motion one of the best sports debates since the Patriots lost to the Giants. They only needed two Kendrick Lamar songs to guarantee travel arrangements to the ugly confines of Cleveland, Ohio. (I’m from Michigan. Thus, everything is ugly in Ohio.)

But then like a feel-good, melodramatic, Disney produced, cliche sports movie (probably starring Denzel Washington), the un(fucking)thinkable happened. After building charity houses with his vast amount of bricks, Klay decided that he wasn’t going to miss another three ever again. (He made 5 of his record 11 treys in the 4th.) Stephen Curry suddenly grew a pair of balls and not only joined his fellow Splash Brother in the rain-making business but also attacked the living shit out of the paint. Miraculously, Andre Iguodala emerged from the abyss (or wherever the fuck he was hiding), swatting anything vaguely directed towards the opposition’s basket.

Meanwhile, the Thunder – after exorcising the 4th quarter demons that haunted them during the regular season against the Spurs (this past season’s “other” super team who play identically to the Golden State Warriors) – decided to display the same 4th quarter meltdown that plagued them during the regular season.

Suddenly, Durant didn’t understand how to play fucking basketball. Westbrook, who committed a single turnover through the first 36 minutes, decided to willingly gift the ball to Golden State four times in the final 12 minutes.

The Thunder had every opportunity to free us from the agony of witnessing another annoying post-game presser featuring the misdeeds of Riley Curry. Wardell Sr. was all but ready to embrace his spoiled offspring.

Then poof!!! As fast you can say “a unicorn is shitting rainbows,” Steve Kerr’s heart palpitations subsided long enough for the Warriors to steal a game in the most gut-wrenching way possible. FUCK!!! Gotdamn you Kev and Russ. You had one job. ONE!!!! Uno motherfuckers!!!! May the “Crying Jordan” gods show you no mercy upon you. Let the bullshit conspiracy theories flow like fine wine!!!