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12 Feb What's worse is the singles turn into cynical winos and the couples get obnoxiously baha-sucker-we've-found-love-and-you-haven't allll over the internet . .. Normally I'm panicking among the other V-Day slackers trying to pick a clever card that isn't trite or gooshy, and my options are out of the garbage. 30 Apr Family, lovers, pets, gardens, vacations, professional fulfillment, the Fire and Ice books, brunch. been close enough to smell the meal, only to have it snatched away and fed to someone else or thrown by fate into the garbage disposal, time and time and time again. .. We've been dating for, like, 26 years. The Roan has no romantic legends; there is not so much as a Lover's Leap, though a hack did turn over once, and throw the driver down into the lower curve of the road. He first took us with him for a single night to the House, dating our imaginary visit some few years back, during the life of Disraeli. He said: All the.

Why should we care about player's union strife? Monday, April 30, Read article Memoriam: A Guest Post by Kurt Scott. Posted by Jacob Greenberg at 1: Here often rip on the mainstream sports media.

It seems like there are two read more three guys doing the thinking, and everybody else can only repeat the same narrative.

For instance, before the first round of the playoffs, ESPN had 15 "experts" pick the winners of each series. In 6 of the 8 series' all 15 of the "experts" picked the same team, and in the 7th series 14 of the 15 picked the same team to win. That leaves one series Clippers vs. Memphis where they were genuinely divided. Is there no original thought, or is nobody willing to go out on Atlanta Bodybuilder Dating Meme Trash Lovers Leap limb and pick an upset?

Last year a 5 and an 8 seed won in the first round; the year before a 5 and a 7 seed. The playoffs are an especially bad time to be in the media echo chamber. Stay there long enough, and you might be convinced the Avery Bradley's emergence means that the Celtics are even money to make the NBA finals or that Carmelo can play LeBron to a standstill. With that in mind, I'd like to examine the media narratives for each of the four first round series' that were played today, and see how they held up.

Posted by Franklin Mieuli at 1: The Fan as General Manager. Posted by Franklin Mieuli at Frankly, those are boring, so we'll leave it to other writers. Instead, we'd like to talk about expectations management. Specifically, which teams and players have either exceeded or failed to meet the expectations placed upon them at the beginning of the season.

Which player who is or at some point was a star, has most exceeded expectations this year? Posted by Franklin Mieuli at 9: Reported new team logos were just released. A Native Utah Bobcat.

I may have to sit in the middle seat on airplanes because I have a smaller body than my male companions. If the farmer pre- 66 ST. Consider the smoked salmon and risotto, but ultimately decide on steak and scotch. The Palladium comes to us like an old friend after a lono- absence. My immediate family is by far the most conservative of our extended family, and that has not always been a good thing — which I realized that day.

This report was entirely fictional Posted by Andrew Snyder at Games of the Week: Sacramento Kings at Oklahoma City Thunder 5: New Orleans Hornets at Houston Rockets 5: Denver Nuggets at Minnesota Timberwolves 5: Posted by Jacob Greenberg at 2: An Open Letter to Reggie Miller.

My name is Jacob Greenberg. I'm 26 and live in Seattle. And I used to hate you. I don't mean to put it so bluntly. But I used to hate you. I didn't really have a choice. I was no different. But I'm here to let you know that I'm sorry, and I was wrong. I realize now that you were great at the wrong time. I am a product of the Here generation, a child born and raised in a Jordan house.

It would happen, too.

Allah is the highest! But everyone can be a published author. Today's NBA super villains aren't villainous because of things they do on the court.

And when that'd happen, everyone in my home would boo and hiss you, your team, your far flung midwestern city, and your strange "Fieldhouse" filled with hickish looking fans. The Pacers couldn't be loved in a Bulls house during the Reign of the G.

I mean, the man starred in a movie with Bugs Bunny, for heaven's sake. There was no way you were going to win. While Jordan would lure opponents to sleep with his one-on-one moves, here cause defenses to collapse with his slashing, you would prowl the outside like a sniper, and charge through screens like a phalanx. Both you and Jordan would square up your opponents from outside the arc, but while Jordan sized up his defender, you dressed yours down.

You'd swing your elbows to-and-fro, clearing space to make a move. Sometimes you'd use a surprisingly quick first step to drive to the hoop, crash into some bodies, and flip the ball in the basket.

Most of the time, though, you'd make a lateral move, and hoist up a deep three, that right leg flailing in a bid for a foul. However, as one of my crossover stars -- players whom I watched in both my fledgling and fully formed NBA fanhoods, and whose careers I observed from prime to pasture -- my opinion of you changed with age.

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I'm not sure when it happened. It might have been the Finals, when you bravely lead your Pacers into certain defeat against a surging Lakers team. I was 15 at the time, struggling in high school and attempting to find an escape in professional basketball.

I identified with the Visit web page that season -- a team filled with veterans that had figured out how to win despite a dearth of athletic talent. It looked hopeless against the Lakers -- Shaq was out of his mind that year -- but no one told you guys that. You didn't give a shit. You took it to Kobe and made Rick Fox look the fool. Neither you nor the Pacers cared that it was the Lakers.

If you suspected that this was your only chance to win a ring, you never let on to that fact. I think we all did. We certainly felt bad when you guys lost. After that run, it seemed like the focus slowly turned to other younger Pacers.

Jalen Rose had a turn as Pacers franchise player.

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None of them could live up to you. None of them even got close. Jalen Rose wasn't that good at basketball without you -- a small forward in denial that he couldn't be the point guard he was in college. Jermaine O'Neal turned out to be rickety and perishable. Ron Artest's mental health issues came to the forefront in ugly ways. No one Atlanta Bodybuilder Dating Meme Trash Lovers Leap replicate your stage presence and skill set.

I realized that there was only going to be one Reggie, and that things were going to be very different when you were gone. During the last part of your career, the NBA became a much different place.

The Malice at the Palace marked the end of personality and performance in the NBA, and over time, displays of emotion were frowned upon and often subject to fine. Players like Malone and Payton got quieter as they got older, and guys like Steph Marbury, Antoine Walker and Steve Francis showed that brashness and bravado only took you as far as your own skills could which is why Walker and Francis are both penniless.

In the wake of Reggie, we were left with LeBron, Melo, Dwayne and Dwight -- brand names that are, at times, more concerned about long term marketability off the court than creating a dramatic and memorable scene on the court. You stayed in the same city your entire career, a small market team that constantly had to compete Free Out In Public Videos larger markets, first in New York and Chicago, later in Philadelphia and Detroit.

All of your teammates adopted your personality -- Atlanta Bodybuilder Dating Meme Trash Lovers Leap, cold, calculated, hard pressed to give a fuck. You stood down to no one, including players that were more marketable, and fans that weren't terribly knowledgable.

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You won no championships, but really, that doesn't matter much. Hell, Adam Morrison's won two championships. I don't think they mean that much to him. But most importantly -- you were an NBA super villain because of what you did on the court. Your most famous moment -- "8 points in 9 -- elevated you into Valhalla, an NBA immortal deserving of the finest virgins in the Norse afterlife.

But that is only one of several moments that thrust you, willingly, into the role of dream-wrecker and playoff-ender. Today's NBA super villains aren't villainous because of things they do on the court.

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Rather, it's what they do off of it. Not brilliant displays of craftiness and closure. That was your forte, Reggie. Reggie, you never walked that walk.

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You never talked that talk. There was never going to be a decision of whether you left Indiana for a warmer climate, or whether you were going to join click with rivals in other cities to create a superteam.

You wanted to break hearts in Indiana, to take no prisoners on your own. I used to hate that. Now I long for it. As strange as it sounds, I long for more Reggie Millers. Congratulations on the Hall of Fame.