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Entries tagged as ‘Elton Brand’

Sharing The Pain: Did You Select Elton Brand In Your Fantasy Draft?

January 20, 2009 · Leave a Comment

Nice suit, brother. NOW GET ON THE FUCKING COURT!

Nice suit, brother. NOW GET ON THE FUCKING COURT!

Leading up to the fantasy season, faith was high in Elton Brand. ‘Sure,’ most owners figured, ‘he sat out all but eight games last year thanks to a snapped Achilles tendon… but in those eight games he looked solid.’

And they weren’t wrong, he really did look like the Elton of old; 17.6 points, 8 boards and 1.9 blocks is an impressive line from someone dealing with an injury last seen in the 1989 Stephen King smash hit Pet Sematary.

Besides, if you’re looking for a model of consistency in the league, Brand is your boy. At least, if Tim Duncan isn’t available. Prior to his injury-ruined ‘07-’08 campaign, Brand’s lowest points average was 18.2 (’01-’02), his highest 24.7 (’05-’06); his worst rebounding mark was 9.3 (’06-’07), his best 11.6 (’01-’02); his blocks have fluctuated from 1.6 (in his first two seasons) to a high of 2.6 (’02-’03). This, it’s clear, is not a man who likes to deviate from the mean.

And, the hopeful thinking went, the 76ers are desperate for a low-post presence, so Brand can expect to see a lot of the ball. Plus, Samuel Dalembert is an offensive non-entity, so nearly every low-post bucket scored by Philadelphia should end up on Elton’s stat sheet. The logic was sound, and you can certainly see why he was drafted seventh or eighth on average, ahead of Dwyane Wade, Danny Granger, Deron Williams, and Al Jefferson.

It’s just a shame that all the faith in the big man from New York has been so cruelly betrayed. In the six December games prior to dislocating his shoulder — a real boon for those playing in a league where Serious Injuries is a category — Brand was giving his owners 12.2 points (on a rancid 41.1% from the field), 9.2 boards, a steal and a block. Not too bad, really. If you drafted him in the ninth round.

With his stock so low, all an Elton owner can do is hope for the best. That, somehow, he can work out how to fit into a Philadelphia squad which has gleefully returned to the up-tempo, free range basketball that took them to the playoffs last year. That somehow, he’ll remember how to dominate the low-post with his impressive strength, and make lazy defenders pay with his beautiful 15-foot jumper.

But first, he needs to actually get on the court. That should happen Saturday the 24th, against a porous Knicks defense which should allow the 76ers enough wriggle room to iron out some of the inevitable creases in their re-Branded offense.

This time, expectations will be lower. Owners have learned to live without their first-round draft pick, even though we can’t cut him. Like Rod Stewart sang in 1976, the first (round fantasy pick) cut is the deepest.

In the meantime, just remember: you’re not alone. Bad fantasy picks touch us all. If you didn’t draft Elton Brand, you probably know someone who did.

Posted By: Anton

Categories: Desperate Pleas · Fantasy Basketball
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The Dalembert Guide To Fantasy Nightmares

December 14, 2008 · 4 Comments

'Why did I draft myself? Why? I'm terrible!'

'Why did I draft myself? Why?! I'm terrible!!'

The odds are reasonable that you, like me, drafted Samuel Dalembert reasonably high in one of your fantasy drafts. ‘Sure,’ you figured, ‘Elton Brand may take a few of his rebounds away. And sure, there might be an adjustment period as he becomes accustomed to having another big man clogging the lane, but he’ll work it out. He’s a quality guy.’ You figured, like me, that he was a legitimate second-tier, fifth or sixth-round fantasy centre.

You were wrong. So horribly wrong. And I feel your pain.

Dalembert is a classic fantasy bust, a wretched mid-round pick, any hopes of upside dashed just games into the season. The worst part is that his grotesque form is so baffling — despite the 76ers’ obvious teething problems, Dalembert was still getting his usual 28-odd minutes. It’s just that he was wasting them. And a roster spot on your team.

Though his per-36 minute numbers aren’t down too much — apart from the terrible drop in field-goal percentage from a career .525% to .453% — Dalembert has been ineffective enough to make his way into the Philadelphia doghouse, with rookie Marreese Speights justifiably stealing many of his minutes. Through six December games, Big Bad Sam has given you 3.8 points, 4.7 boards, and a block. Unless you’re playing in a 16-team league, that’s disgusting (and even then, Ronny Turiaf would probably be more helpful).

'I wrecked your team.'

'I wrecked your team.'

So, now you’ve realised Daddy Dalembert isn’t getting any better — his minutes get lower each game, and new coach Tony DiLeo, desperate for a new direction in Philly, likely won’t help that — let’s examine your options. What can you, as a hurt, broken, and busted fantasy manager do in times like these? (And yes, these tips will be helpful for those poor, wretched fools who gambled on Lamar Odom surviving a loaded Laker frontcourt, or Tyson Chandler remembering how to play basketball, or Luol Deng even half-justifying his fat contract):

Option 1: Don’t Drop The Player, But Whine A Lot. Over Email, When You Have Lunch With Fellow Managers, To Your Girlfriend, To Your Boss.

Probably the best option. It’s safe — there’s no chance of your recently-waived draftee inexplicably gaining form as soon as your rival picks them up off the wire. It’s enjoyable — serious whining is cathartic, and distracts you from bigger issues in the world, like the continuing crisis in Zimbabwe, the political problems in Greece, or Plaxico Burress shooting himself in the thigh. And it’ll annoy the rest of the league, which means your terrible draft choice has, at least in some small way, been inflicted upon your friends.

Option 2: Drop Them To The Waivers. Be Sure To Post A Message Whining About How Terrible They’ve Been, And How You Can’t Believe You’re Seriously About To Pick Up ‘Spencer Fucking Hawes.’

A little tougher — it takes a steely resolve to confirm the waiving off a mid-round guy (I say this as a fantasy owner who has dropped Lamar Odom, Tracy McGrady and Dalembert in the past month). It’s also an admission of failure, and if the Republican party has taught us anything recently, it’s that admitting you’re wrong is just as bad (if not worse) as being wrong.

Expect the other managers in the league to taunt you. It is their privilege, nay, their right. If they don’t question your masculinity, intelligence, and basketball knowledge, they’re doing something wrong.

Option 3: Look For Signs Of Hope, And Email Your League Boasting About Anything Good Your Underperforming Retard Of A Player Does.

A classic route, whereby you come up with ridiculous justifications for your selection’s sub-standard efforts. Here are some suggestions: ‘he’s probably still recovering from a minor pre-season wrist injury or something — he’ll be back in form soon!’; ‘he’s just adjusting to a new system — but he’s smart, he’ll get it soon!’; ‘this coach is terrible — but once he’s fired, my boy will be killing it!’ They all work.

And when your guy does deliver something of use — anything! — you need to constantly harp on about how well it augers for their playing future. So, when Samuel Dalembert puts up 13 and 16 (with three blocks), hit the league message board and post the following: ‘my boy Dalembert is back, motherfuckers. How do you like my dick now? Fuck the haters!’ It doesn’t matter that the 13 and 16 came against the Thunder, or that he scored four points in his very next game — all that matters is that your draft pick displayed some knowledge, however rudimentary, of how basketball works. And where there’s hope, there’s life.

Option 4: Quit The League.

The stupidest option, but undoubtedly the funniest. Waive all your players (unbalancing the rest of the league in the process), email horrifically abusive shit to your fellow owners, and spend the rest of the NBA season talking about how stupid fantasy basketball is.

Posted By: Anton

Categories: Fantasy Basketball · On The Court · Sport Count Guide
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How Are The Clippers So Terrible?

November 20, 2008 · 1 Comment

Clippers coach Mike Dunleavy in a relatively relaxed moment.

Clippers coach Mike Dunleavy in a relatively relaxed moment.

The Los Angeles Clippers are absolutely wretched, useless, worse than even the most cynical of commentators could have predicted. They’ve lost nine of their ten games, and only two of those matches have been away from the safety of the Staples Center.

Their sole victory was hardly inspiring, coming at home over an imploding Mavericks team caught between a desire to blood their young, and a need to win before their ageing veterans are shipped off to local nursing homes. After that lacklustre victory, Baron Davis tried to reassure the punters, and his teammates, and himself: ‘We let a couple of games get away that we had control of,’ he said. ‘But once you get that first one, it just takes the monkey of your back and you realize that you know how to win.’

Sorry Baron, but the monkey still rides. After that brief moment of Cuban-beating glory, the Clippers were wrecked by a shocking Kings squad, demolished by a Warriors team bound for the lottery, then narrowly beaten by an injury-riddled Spurs squad.

These are not good times for Los Angeles’ other team. Billy Crystal hasn’t slept in two weeks. He wanders the empty halls at the Clippers’ training centre in the dead of night, quietly weeping into a game-used Elton Brand jersey.

What’s going wrong with this team? Apart from, like, everything?

The problem lies exactly where most observers expected it would: chemistry, camraderie, the team dynamic. You wonder if this Clippers squad, so enthusiastically and haphazardly cobbled together in the off-season, can make it work, but it doesn’t look good.

Not with Marcus Camby phoning it in, as if actual games are just an unfortunate distraction, an irritating roadblock until he ends up on a team that isn’t cursed. He doesn’t look especially healthy, or motivated, and he’s clearly still disgusted at the crude manner in which the Nuggets dumped him –like a defensively-minded kidnap victim who woke up in East LA with a fat wallet and instructions to get to the arena.

Baron Davis looks like you don’t want Baron Davis to look; far too confident in his shot, too lazy to drive, bored, distracted. There’s no fire in him. He’s shooting 36.4% from the field, and going to the line just 3.4 times a game. His steals are down, and his three-point shot is wretched (23.3%). Diddy is living up to every critics’ nastiest claims: that his health last year was a contract year effort, that he isn’t a leader, that he inked a deal with the Clippers because he loves Los Angeles, not the team that goes with it.

The fact that Mike Dunleavy – a coach that, uh, seems to rub some players the wrong way (how’s the bay, Corey?) – is already butting heads with Baron doesn’t bode well. (Stephen Jackson diagnosed the problem after his Warriors beat Baron and his new team: ‘It’s kind of difficult for [Baron]. He likes playing fast and he likes having the ball a lot. They run a lot of isolation plays with the two and three guards and he doesn’t really get a chance to do his thing.’

Ugh! My team bad!

Ugh! My team bad!

Ricky Davis? His career looks all but over, jacking up ugly shots at a 32.3% clip, bludging on defense, adding nothing. Chris Kaman looks confused – more so than usual — whenever he looks around and sees Camby clogging up his paint. Al Thornton looks promising, just like he did last year. He isn’t yet the long-limbed offensive juggernaut many expected might emerge this season.

None of it is working, and it doesn’t make much sense. On paper, the Clippers should be a tenacious (albeit often ineffective) defensive squad, with Diddy gambling on steals, Camby swatting from the weakside, Kaman taking up room in the lane, and Thornton dogging the wings. On paper, the Clippers should be strong offensively, with sweet-shooting threats (Baron, Eric Gordon, Al Thornton, Ricky Davis every 4th game), a monster with surprising finesse in Chris Kaman, and a passing big man in Camby. On paper, the Clippers shouldn’t be the second-worst team in the West (only the Faux-Sonics are worse).

But games aren’t played on paper, and in the real world, this Clippers team is horrific.

Should the players go for post-game drinks? Do they need to play poker together? Would a big barbecue in Mike Dunleavy’s backyard help? We don’t know. But if the Clippers want to win, they better start talking to each other. As it is, they look like bewildered strangers bound only by contractual obligation, not a desire to win.

Posted By: Anton

Categories: On The Court
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The Count Preview: Atlantic Division

October 26, 2008 · Leave a Comment

'Sunrise over the Atlantic.' Thanks, Google Images.

The Atlantic. Thanks, Google Images.

Considering nearly every basketball website in the world has kindly furnished you with extensive season previews (we recommend Skeets’ efforts at Ball Don’t Lie, and John Hollinger’s terrifically geeked out team-by-team analysis at ESPN), we’re going to keep this relatively short.

Besides, we just don’t have time to dedicate 1300 words to each and every franchise. We’re far too busy with extremely important matters, like looking at the facial hair of the NBA, or rifling through players’ trashcans to find their rehab diaries.

But as serious ball freaks, we couldn’t let a fresh season kick off without a preview feature. We’ll keep things comfortably brief, so your eyeballs don’t get tired (you owe my optometrist money, Hollinger).  We’ll kick things off with the Atlantic, one of the most oceanic of the six divisions:

Boston Celtics: Fearing his team may grow fat with self-congratulation, Kevin Garnett returns from an off-season spent researching new motivational techniques. He settles on Full Metal Jacket as his primary source of inspiration. Brian Scalabrine leaves the team in January with a Delonte-esque ‘mood disorder,’ after Garnett calls him an ‘orange-haired, mouse-toothed piece of jump-shootin’ shit.’

New Jersey Nets: The Nets become the richest sports team in the world, on the back of merchandise purchases from the 5.3 billion Chinese fans the NBA now boasts. (Interesting fact: there are 480 million Beijing residents watching a replay of the China-USA Olympic game right now).

David Stern further corners the Chinese market, and garners praise from Chinese president Hu Jintao, by instituting ‘the Double China rule’, whereby field goals scored by Chinese players are worth twice as much as those scored by non-Chinese players. Jintao goes wild for the idea, and insists Jianlian play at least 47 minutes a game, much to the chagrin of Lawrence Frank. Jianlian still averages just 14 points a game.

Philadelphia 76ers: Despite late-season injuries to Andre Miller and Louis Williams, the Sixers scrape into the playoffs on the back of strong frontcourt play from Elton Brand and Samuel Dalembert.

With their backcourt absolutely decimated, general manager Ed Stefanski figures disheartened Philadelphia fans would benefit from a familiar face, and brings in Donovan McNabb to man the point. McNabb is viciously booed and cruelly taunted instantly, and responds by committing 27 turnovers in his first game. He does briefly excite the crowd with a full-court alley-oop to Thaddeus Young.

I is shooting threes!

'I is shooting threes! Si!'

Toronto Raptors: Shocking the naysayers, the Jermaine O’Neal and Chris Bosh frontcourt combo really works, both players averaging double-doubles, both playing the full 82 games. And notorious racist José Calderon delivers a ridiculous 5.6-1 assist-turnover ratio, nearly earning him an All-Star nod.

Unfortunately, Andrea Bargnani sabotages any playoff hopes by jacking up half-court threes, constantly screaming ‘I no go in this paint! No paint for Andrea!’ He averages 3.2 points on .071% shooting, and refuses to collect a rebound (‘Is no rebound! Mi rifiuto!’). Coach Sam Mitchell insists the Bargnani era is over, citing his wretched performances. General manager Jerry Colangelo disagrees, telling the media ‘he’s a number one pick. He’s good. I know he’s good. I drafted him. Sam will start him, and Sam will play him.’

Sam starts him, Sam plays him, and the Raptors win 21 games.

New York Knicks: With a 1-27 record, and Quentin Richardson averaging 32 field goal attempts a game at a .223% clip, the D’Antoni experiment is chalked up as a terrible failure just two months into the season.

Like a scene from an Oliver Stone-directed remake of Eddie, Rudy Guiliani is controversially named head coach, boasting that the legendary leadership skills he developed in the days and months after 9/11 will hold him in good stead. Jerome James, who spends each September eating prawn cocktails on his yacht, asks ‘what the fuck is 9/11?’

Guiliani does a much better job than Vinny Del Negro.

Posted By: Anton

Categories: On The Court · Sport Count Guide
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Ben Gordon: ‘I’ve Got My Family To Feed’

August 17, 2008 · Leave a Comment

'mo $$ pls.'

Ben Gordon: 'mo $$$ pls.'

He may not have children yet, but Ben Gordon seems to be taking financial advice from Latrell Sprewell.

According to the Chicago Tribune, the Gordon contract situation doesn’t look good:

In a new development, Bulls guard Ben Gordon said he wouldn’t sign the Bulls’ one-year qualifying offer of $6.4 million, setting the stage for a possible stalemate.

“I’m definitely not taking it,” Gordon said Friday night at a charity function in New York. “I’ve already expressed that to them. I mean, that’s not an option.”

Gordon still wants more than $10m a year. I’m baffled. Here’s why:

1. Why would the Bulls even want him on their team? Yes, he’s apparently a hard worker, and he practices hard, and he was their leading scorer… but even at the (generously listed) height of 6′3″, he’s ridiculously undersized, and leading a team full of serious underachievers in scoring doesn’t warrant too much praise.

Another problem: his lack of height makes him a serious defensive liability, and a classic target for teams running the high pick-and-roll.

Yet another: the Bulls lack the low-post presence required to free up a shooter like Gordon. Put him on the 76ers, where Brand and Dalembert are clogging up the key, and Ben would be in heaven. Slot him into the Phoenix starting five, with O’Neal and Stoudamire taking up space and drawing double teams, and Ben would work. But in Chicago? Not so useful.

2. Plus, the Chicago roster is absolutely stuffed with shooting guards, with Kirk Hinrich, Larry Hughes, Luol Deng, and Thabo Sefolosha all capable at the two-spot. Hughes’ grotesque contract is impossible to offload, Deng is in Chi-Town to stay, and selling the potential-rich Sefolosha for cheap would be a terrible move, so either Gordon or Hinrich have to go.

3. I can think of just one general manager who could justify spending more than $10m a year on a tiny-sized shooter who offers nothing but offense, and his name is Isiah Thomas. And, unfortunately for Ben Gordon’s pocketbook, Isiah Thomas doesn’t run a team any more.

4. Finally, and most importantly, how can Ben Gordon possibly think he’s worth so much? It seems his agent, Raymond Brothers, has pumped him too full of confidence, promising the world, demanding Gordon expect nothing less than superstar money. But Gordon isn’t a superstar: he’s not worth Antawn Jamison money; he’s not worth Josh Smith money; he’s definitely not worth Steve Nash money.

Posted By: Anton

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Categories: NBA Mysteries · Signings & Firings
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