I didn't know what to title this post, so I decided to use the title that I had pegged for my failed self-help book. I wasn't exactly able to get the entire thing written, because the title was so damn awesome, there was no awesomeness left in me after coming up with it. I didn't really feel like helping others anyway after a while, just kind of a phase I guess. But I digress.

I view BSOTS as a semi-responsibility of life, right up there with washing one's self and giving people compliments. Ok, so it's obviously something that doesn't have to be done every day. Returning now after a brief excursion, I see that some things never change. The ESPN trade machine is still abused more than Hedo in the post, Blazers fans are still the whiniest bunch of minions on the innernets (which explains why Portland is so damp), and we don't have any more of an idea about the 2010/2011 Phoenix Suns now than we did in August. That comforts me, because it's a sign that I didn't really miss much 'round these parts.

 

More waxing after the jump...

What I've digested about these Suns so far...

I don't know.

After using the word "digested", I came to the conclusion that if this Suns team were a food, it would most closely resemble this Chinese/Mexican hybrid dish that I consumed one brave evening. I enjoyed all of the individual parts of it, I didn't want to part with any of it, yet somehow I knew that like Stevando Turkowarridress Frye-Rich, the combination just wasn't going to work. Regardless, I proceeded to gorge the entire thing, and wasn't able to ascertain exactly what was going on in my stomach for the rest of the evening.

Will the Phoenix Suns have any more of a direction after whatever the hell might happen this year finally happens? I've come to the conclusion that I don't care, really. Much like I didn't care about the concerns that my brain and stomach were raising about that Chinese/Mexican dish, any concerns about my Suns are falling on deaf ears, because I don't really have a choice. I didn't have a choice to eat that orange chicken quesadilla with beans and rice and wontons all mixed together, because I can't un-commit to going through with something. I said I would eat it, so I ate it. Consequences be damned.

Likewise, the Suns are a part of my being, and I know that I've come way too far to not be a devoted fan, year in and year out. That ship sailed a looooong time ago. Maybe I'm blessed, perhaps I'm screwed, but I always say not to worry about things that you can't control. Well, being a Suns fan is beyond my control, so why get all misty over Amare being gone? Why whine about defense and rebounding? Why curse Robert Horry and John Paxson and Mario Elie? I would be here now if the Suns had won 8 straight titles, I would be here now if they hadn't made the playoffs in ten years. It doesn't really matter.

The Future Is Unwritten

The late Joe Strummer once sang:

"Some is rich, some is poor, that's the way the world is... But I don't believe in lying back, saying how bad your luck is..."

I think we can all dig that. I know I can.

It's so easy to get caught up in the frustration of being an Arizona sports fan. There has only been one major title that we can claim in Phoenix since team sports began here (including only NBA, NFL, MLB, NCAAB, NCAAF, NHL, sorry Mercury), that I know of. For chrissakes, Tucson has equaled that. Making matters worse, being the "transplant town" that Phoenix is, our arenas are usually bustling with a bunch of jackasses that are wearing the colors of the opposing teams. You can't go to a Suns v. Bulls game without seeing a bunch of red-clad fat dudes gorging on hot dogs and bragging about championships. You can't go to a Cardinals v. Cowboys game without seeing way more dudes (and chicks) with mullets than anyone should ever see. Can't go to a D-Backs v. Giants game without the ass-errific aroma of garlic fries wafting through the air. Can't go to a Suns v. Lakers game without getting your car broken into (hahaha ok that was a cheapshot). It's bloody depressing at times.

All of that considered, I used to say such things as "well it will be that much sweeter when our time comes". Not anymore. Even if there is a cosmic balance in which things even out in the universe, I don't think it takes the NBA into consideration. We may never see true glory. How many Red Sox fans died as old men before 2004? If you want to be a happy fan, enjoy Nash and Hill. Watch some videos of Walter D and Charles Barkley. Check out game 5 versus the Celtics in the 1976 Finals if you never have before. Don't make your love for the Suns contingent on the success or failure of the future. The future is unwritten, therefore it is unreliable. Enjoy the present. Enjoy the future too, just don't get too hung up over the details. You're here, win or lose. You know it's true.

I Feel Much Warmer Now, Thank You!

You're welcome. Snuggle it, then frame it. Touch it and sigh. It's going to be ok; everything is going to be ok. We're not here to get something tangible out of it. Nothing is guaranteed to us. We allsome of us bust our asses at work only to scrape by, yet we'll plunk down a significant chunk of our dough to watch millionaires play a game of basketball. Why do we do it? Because of the purple and orange. Because the uniform they wear means something to us. Even when Garret Siler wears it and it gets all stretched out and the number 20 looks more like 200, it still means something to us. It's a little corner of life that we can escape in. It's something that we can pass on to those that are important to us, because it makes us feel so good that we want to share it. It has made Ed Nealy, Jerrod Mustaf, Horacio Llamas, Joe Kleine, Jake Tsakalidis and Pat Burke all unforgettable to us. That's how special this shit is.

So when you watch tomorrow's game, instead of wishing for a big man, try and imagine a world without our Suns. Imagine Halloween coming without the excitement of a new season of basketball. Imagine a February without rosterbating in the dark over who the Suns might deal for. Then drink a beer, have a pickle, do whatever it is you do to add to the enjoyment of your Suns game, because you know that you can't help but follow this team. 

Congratulate yourself. It's one damn enjoyable compulsion to have.

Anything else is just a bonus.

Happy hunting everyone.



I didn't know what to title this post, so I decided to use the title that I had pegged for my failed self-help book. I wasn't exactly able to get the entire thing written, because the title was so damn awesome, there was no awesomeness left in me after coming up with it. I didn't really feel like helping others anyway after a while, just kind of a phase I guess. But I digress.

I view BSOTS as a semi-responsibility of life, right up there with washing one's self and giving people compliments. Ok, so it's obviously something that doesn't have to be done every day. Returning now after a brief excursion, I see that some things never change. The ESPN trade machine is still abused more than Hedo in the post, Blazers fans are still the whiniest bunch of minions on the innernets (which explains why Portland is so damp), and we don't have any more of an idea about the 2010/2011 Phoenix Suns now than we did in August. That comforts me, because it's a sign that I didn't really miss much 'round these parts.

 

More waxing after the jump...

What I've digested about these Suns so far...

I don't know.

After using the word "digested", I came to the conclusion that if this Suns team were a food, it would most closely resemble this Chinese/Mexican hybrid dish that I consumed one brave evening. I enjoyed all of the individual parts of it, I didn't want to part with any of it, yet somehow I knew that like Stevando Turkowarridress Frye-Rich, the combination just wasn't going to work. Regardless, I proceeded to gorge the entire thing, and wasn't able to ascertain exactly what was going on in my stomach for the rest of the evening.

Will the Phoenix Suns have any more of a direction after whatever the hell might happen this year finally happens? I've come to the conclusion that I don't care, really. Much like I didn't care about the concerns that my brain and stomach were raising about that Chinese/Mexican dish, any concerns about my Suns are falling on deaf ears, because I don't really have a choice. I didn't have a choice to eat that orange chicken quesadilla with beans and rice and wontons all mixed together, because I can't un-commit to going through with something. I said I would eat it, so I ate it. Consequences be damned.

Likewise, the Suns are a part of my being, and I know that I've come way too far to not be a devoted fan, year in and year out. That ship sailed a looooong time ago. Maybe I'm blessed, perhaps I'm screwed, but I always say not to worry about things that you can't control. Well, being a Suns fan is beyond my control, so why get all misty over Amare being gone? Why whine about defense and rebounding? Why curse Robert Horry and John Paxson and Mario Elie? I would be here now if the Suns had won 8 straight titles, I would be here now if they hadn't made the playoffs in ten years. It doesn't really matter.

The Future Is Unwritten

The late Joe Strummer once sang:

"Some is rich, some is poor, that's the way the world is... But I don't believe in lying back, saying how bad your luck is..."

I think we can all dig that. I know I can.

It's so easy to get caught up in the frustration of being an Arizona sports fan. There has only been one major title that we can claim in Phoenix since team sports began here (including only NBA, NFL, MLB, NCAAB, NCAAF, NHL, sorry Mercury), that I know of. For chrissakes, Tucson has equaled that. Making matters worse, being the "transplant town" that Phoenix is, our arenas are usually bustling with a bunch of jackasses that are wearing the colors of the opposing teams. You can't go to a Suns v. Bulls game without seeing a bunch of red-clad fat dudes gorging on hot dogs and bragging about championships. You can't go to a Cardinals v. Cowboys game without seeing way more dudes (and chicks) with mullets than anyone should ever see. Can't go to a D-Backs v. Giants game without the ass-errific aroma of garlic fries wafting through the air. Can't go to a Suns v. Lakers game without getting your car broken into (hahaha ok that was a cheapshot). It's bloody depressing at times.

All of that considered, I used to say such things as "well it will be that much sweeter when our time comes". Not anymore. Even if there is a cosmic balance in which things even out in the universe, I don't think it takes the NBA into consideration. We may never see true glory. How many Red Sox fans died as old men before 2004? If you want to be a happy fan, enjoy Nash and Hill. Watch some videos of Walter D and Charles Barkley. Check out game 5 versus the Celtics in the 1976 Finals if you never have before. Don't make your love for the Suns contingent on the success or failure of the future. The future is unwritten, therefore it is unreliable. Enjoy the present. Enjoy the future too, just don't get too hung up over the details. You're here, win or lose. You know it's true.

I Feel Much Warmer Now, Thank You!

You're welcome. Snuggle it, then frame it. Touch it and sigh. It's going to be ok; everything is going to be ok. We're not here to get something tangible out of it. Nothing is guaranteed to us. We allsome of us bust our asses at work only to scrape by, yet we'll plunk down a significant chunk of our dough to watch millionaires play a game of basketball. Why do we do it? Because of the purple and orange. Because the uniform they wear means something to us. Even when Garret Siler wears it and it gets all stretched out and the number 20 looks more like 200, it still means something to us. It's a little corner of life that we can escape in. It's something that we can pass on to those that are important to us, because it makes us feel so good that we want to share it. It has made Ed Nealy, Jerrod Mustaf, Horacio Llamas, Joe Kleine, Jake Tsakalidis and Pat Burke all unforgettable to us. That's how special this shit is.

So when you watch tomorrow's game, instead of wishing for a big man, try and imagine a world without our Suns. Imagine Halloween coming without the excitement of a new season of basketball. Imagine a February without rosterbating in the dark over who the Suns might deal for. Then drink a beer, have a pickle, do whatever it is you do to add to the enjoyment of your Suns game, because you know that you can't help but follow this team. 

Congratulate yourself. It's one damn enjoyable compulsion to have.

Anything else is just a bonus.

Happy hunting everyone.


Barkley

The one and only Charles Barkley.

Check out this and more at Dark WIng Illustration.


PHOENIX — For three quarters the Phoenix Suns appeared to be sleepwalking through tonight’s matchup against Memphis, seemingly exhausted after playing last night in Portland with an off kilter...

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Stop me if you've heard this one before. The game is close and the Suns need to execute on the defensive end. A play is run and the Suns defender fails to switch on a screen. The opposing shooter gets open and hits the big shot.

Here's one example that comes to mind. Remember all the heat Amare took for not switching on that screen and following Finley out to the three point line?

Here's another example that comes to mind for some reason at 12:40 in the a.m. Same kind of deal, opposition needs a big shot and the Phoenix defense blows the switch.

Tonight we are treated to yet another such example which isn't all that surprising. What is surprising is who blew the play. I honestly had no idea until I rewatched it after getting home from the game so I am going to keep you in suspense give a bit longer.

And just to be sure, here's Gentry's post game quote on the play:

"You've got to find a way to not give up a corner three. You can't give up a corner three. We didn't switch out on it, we didn't quite get out on it and you have to give him credit, he knocked down the shot."

 

1) You can see Rudy Gay being covered by Josh Childress about run into the Zach Randolph screen.

Gay_three_1_medium

2) Here you can see Childress being screened by Zach's big body and note Suns number 33 who was previously with Randolph. He's left open and at this point should be switching on to Rudy Gay.

Even if there's confusion and Childress also follows Gay around the screen and they leave Zach wide open at the rim it won't matter since the Suns are up by 3 points.

Gay_three_2_medium

3) Here you can see Childress and now Dudley who had been screened by Gasol, trying to close out but check out how much space Gay has when he catches the pass. WAY too much.

Gay_three_3_medium

So, on this night, on this play, the Suns defensive culprit is none other than Grant Hill. Does that make you feel better or worse about the play?

I don't think anyone had seen the replay so Hill wasn't asked about the play in his post game locker room interview as far as I know. The team is off tomorrow so this will have to wait until Friday.

Here's the entire play:

 

But on the plus side, Jared Dudley got a block on Rudy Gay:

Video: Jared Dudley Blocks Rudy Gay 

Jared Dudley, he of limited vertical ups, blocks former dunk contest contestant and high-flyer, Rudy Gay. It's not something you are going to see often so we felt it best to memorialize in video.


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