What's Up Doc Can We Rock?

Lets add one for the thumb with the C's Shaq

It's official, Shaquille O'Neal has signed with the Celtics. Gary Washburn of the Boston Globe says two year deal worth $2.8M.  The situation is perfect for him, as Shaq won't be asked to be the second or third best player on the team. He is a big body off the bench and no matter which way you cut it, he is an upgrade over Sheldon Williams, which could essentially be his role when Perkins returns midseason.

I've always had a soft spot for Shaq due to the timing of his emergence. I was young and impressionable when Shaq burst into the league. Basketball was scorching with Team USA, the Jordan glory days and the Fab Five; and Shaq became one of the league's biggest stars. I wore long Bugs Bunny and Taz t-shirts, dunked mini-basketballs on hoops lowered to eight feet and listened to Shaq's seminal record, "Shaq Diesel." Sure I was a dork, but the "Shaq is cool," luster never wore off for me, even when he joined the hated Lakers and led them to three titles. Washed up or not, I just like the idea of having Shaq on the Celtics.

Lets examine what Shaq can bring to the table for Boston.

Shaq thinks he is a dwarf from Lord of the Rings

Shaq is an imposing presence. Kimbo Slice (pictured above) is a scary bastard and he looks downright cuddly next to Shaq. Add him into a front court with KG, Jermaine O'Neal, Big Baby and eventually, Kendrick Perkins and you've created the most imposing front court in the league. Suddenly Dwight Howard and Marcin Gortat don't seem all that big. Carlos Boozer and Joakim Noah seem totally undersized. Perhaps most importantly; Chris Bosh, Zydrunas Ilgauskus, Joel Anthony and Udonis Haslem seem like useless skyscrapers in the path of a rampaging Godzilla.

The Celtics can own the paint against anyone in the league with this front court. It is a humongous tactical advantage next season.

TigerStyle

Shaq has a talent for nicknames. He has Shaq-Fu, The Diesel, Superman, The Big Aristotle, The Big Agave and already The Big Shamrock. Shaq also bestowed Paul Pierce with one of the greatest nicknames in league history in "The Truth." That is right, Shaq coined "The Truth." It is one of my favorite Paul Pierce anecdotes of all time. From ESPN.com:

Pierce was nearing the end of his breakthrough third season at the time. He averaged more than 20 points (25.1 ppg) for the first time and took the reins from Antoine Walker (23.4 ppg) as the C's leading scorer. What happened after the game is what made it a watershed moment in Pierce's career, though.

Shaquille O'Neal, in the midst of his three-peat and a role as the most dominant force in the game, pulled a Boston reporter aside and offered the following: "Take this down. My name is Shaquille O'Neal, and Paul Pierce is the [expletive] truth. Quote me on that, and don't take nothing out. I knew he could play, but I didn't know he could play like this. Paul Pierce is the truth."

Awesome, awesome story. Rondo could use a nickname. Shaq conferring something really snazzy, would be worth the contract in and of itself.

The Axis of Asshat

Shaq has the perfect vendettas to be a Celtic. He won a championship with Dwayne Wade in Miami and would surely enjoy going back in with the Celts and beating his old running mate. Shaq played last season with Lebron and from most reports, the Cavs' locker room wasn't all sunshine and roses. Shaq called Chris Bosh "the RuPaul of big men." About Dwight Howard, Shaq said; "everything he's done, I've invented." He wants to humilate every Celtics obstacle in the Eastern Conference.

Most importantly Shaq's biggest bulls-eye is dead center on Kobe Bryant, Phil Jackson and the Lakers. The former coach, teammate and team that spurned him; trading him away after he led the franchise to three championships. Shaq got a taste of revenge in Miami, but there is no doubt he is thirsty for more. That burning desire to beat the Purple and Gold is a match made in Celtics heaven.

Sleeves are optional tonight boys

Shaq wears vests as shirts. Seriously, it doesn't get much manlier or more bad ass than that. I am 110% behind the stance of forgoing the restrictive formality of sleeves. Shaq lends legitimacy to that ideal.

Dapper Don

BAM, red carpet, all white, vest as shirt. Bask in the glory of this outfit. You are lying to yourself if you think you wouldn't wear this if you could get away with it.

So there you have it, for a measly and easily absorbed veterans minimum contract you get everything above, plus whatever Shaq does on the actual court. I don't see much downside here. Hopefully he shows up in Boston tomorrow with Fu-Schnickens, turns to Glen Rivers and asks, "what's up Doc, can we rock?"

Boston Red Sox Wally to the DL

The injury riddled 2010 Boston Red Sox added yet another name to the disabled list today, in perhaps the most bizarre incident yet, in a season chock full of mishaps. Boston announced Wally the Green Monster will go on the 60 day DL with acute encephalitis - a swelling of the brain caused by the rabies virus.

Witnesses state that during a routine daytime stadium tour, Wally, who is nocturnal and rarely leaves the shelter of his Green Monster home in the daytime, stumbled out onto the field and charged the tour group. Wally was subdued and post-exposure prophylaxis was administered. Team doctors are cautiously optimistic that the beloved mascot will make a full recovery. Two men remain in the hospital in stable condition; the group's tour guide, 25 year old Chaz Davies and 43 year old Justin Salem, a member of the field crew.

"It was horrible, just horrible," said Jane Meadows, a 29 year old school teacher from Haverhill, who was at the stadium chaperoning a 5th grade summer camp trip. Meadows was clearly still unnerved from the encounter when I spoke to her. "You could tell something was wrong the way Wally was stumbling around in the outfield, not responding to the shouts and waves of the children. Then he charged right at us and you could see the foam flying everywhere from his mouth. I don't know what happened after, it was just chaos."

"That tour guide saved those children," added witness Michael Mathis another member of the field crew, that helped subdue the enraged fur-ball. "Wally looked to be headed straight for the kids, likely picturing a delicious finger sandwich buffet in his altered state. But [Davies] jumped in front of him and us crew guys ran over and pummeled poor Wally into submission with shovels and rakes." Mathis then added, while fighting back tears, "he got a pretty good bite on Justin before we stopped him. I'm just thankful we were there."

Davies and Salem are said to be in good condition and are being treated for rabies at Brigham and Woman's Hospital. Both are expected to be released tonight.

Team officials said that they are still trying to piece together when and how the cuddly mascot could have been infected and transformed into a deranged beast. Reports from stadium personal say Wally was his normal, lovable, self last night, with no hint of the trouble to come.

News of the attack reached the Boston players in the visitors clubhouse in Tampa, before tonight's game. The team is said to have been shocked and badly shaken by the news, with many joining in on prayers for both Wally and the injured staff.

For a team that has been decimated by injuries to players this season, the news of losing the mascot, under such tragic circumstances, is tough to bear. The team will now have to decide whether either of the Triple A Pawtucket mascots - Paws and Sox - are ready for prime time. There is also the possibility of shopping around the league for trade scenarios involving mascots from the non-contending teams, although the price in prospects may be prohibitive, for a team with potential bullpen and outfield needs to address as well.

Rasheed Wallace - Fat and Lazy or Forward Thinking Genius?

Sandwiches????

Rasheed Wallace's first regular season with the Boston Celtics was an unmitigated disaster. Sheed's  play has been dissected by Celtics fans ad nauseam and the general consensus has been, "couldn't we have gotten Antoine Walker to miss 72% of his threes for access to the post game buffets?" He is signed for two more years and at this rate he might be neglecting to travel with the team by year three.

All season Rasheed ignored the criticism and maintained that he would be a difference maker in the playoffs, when it mattered.

Starting in Game 2 of the Cavaliers series Sheed began contributing. He bullied and battered Dwight Howard in game one of the Eastern Conference finals to the point where Dwight might now despise him more than most Celtics fans do.

So is Rasheed Wallace really a misunderstood and progressive thinking strategist who has created a new blueprint for veteran NBA teams? Was that talk of challenging the Chicago Bulls regular season wins record a red herring to throw other teams off his true strategy? The Celtics clearly cruised through the regular season and saved their max effort for the playoffs. The Celtics were going to win the Atlantic division in 2010  no matter what they did, so saving gas while coasting downhill in March and April might be the key difference maker for a team with lots of mileage on the odometer.

A mad scientist like plot to rethink regular season attitudes would certainly make sense in light of how little urgency the team displayed throughout the many regular season low points. It would also help explain the whispering about locker room rifts particularly between the new and old guards. It is a dangerous strategy, one that failed in Detroit, but the Celtics did look fresher against Miami than they did while going to seven games in round one of the 2008 and 2009 playoffs. Still, redemption can only be earned through championship number 18 because the Celtics organization doesn't hang banners for Eastern Conference or Atlantic Division titles.

Should the Celtics get the 7 more wins it would take to hang banner #18 we may look back one day on the 09-10 regular season as a paradigm shift in the NBA, thought up by a loose cannon with Einstein-like hair. If so, Michael Lewis will have an NBA follow-up to "Moneyball" with "Butterball - How Rasheed Wallace changed the NBA."

The Truth Behind Penny Hardaway's Comeback

Thirty nine year old Anfernee "Penny" Hardaway, has thrown his name into the hat for a potential roster spot, with the Miami Heat. He sees the additions of Lebron James, Chris Bosh and Mike Miller to a team that already had Dwayne Wade and Udonis Haslem and assumes dynasty.  At least that is what Hardaway wants you to think.

The truth of the matter is that he needs the money, even if it is the minimum NBA contract. Anfernee doesn't need it himself, he's no Scottie Pippen or Antoine Walker, he invested well. This is a straight cash grab to help old friend, Lil Penny. Lil Penny is broke. Eat out of the trash broke. Squatting in the neighborhood childrens' treehouse broke. Providing oral sex for ten dollars broke.

Everyone remembers the good old days, the glitz, the glamour, the good life. But what no one ever sees is the fall and the descent into squalor. Everything started so innocently. Lil Penny was partying all the time, why not do a little coke to stay up a little later. Cocaine use led to freebasing, which led to crack, which led to heroin, which led to prostituting himself for the next hit or needle.

Lil Penny was the toast of the town. He had the Superbowl commercial, the partying with Steve Urkel and that annoying, "the brain weighs six pounds," shithead kid from Jerry Maguire. He was the king. Who do you think showed an up and coming Tiger Woods the ropes? Lil Penny's bedded more cocktail waitresses and porn stars than he cares to remember. Unfortunately, all he has to show for it  is two bankruptcies and Hepatitis C.

Lil P stays well hydrated

Anfernee Hardaway held on as long as he could. He saw his mini-doppelganger falling apart and he tried to help. He warned Lil Penny about the dangers of hobnobing with Gheorge Muresan, the NBA's king of crystal meth. Like most addicts, Lil Penny wasn't interested in changing.

A falling out that both refuse to discuss; but sources claim was based on the inappropriate groping of Hardaway's corgi dog (seen briefly in the Superbowl ad) by Lil Penny, ended their relationship . Anfernee had no idea how bad things had become.

He found out in a big way in 2001, when he awoke to a detoxing Lil Penny; shaking, sweating and hallucinating in his cat's litter box. A brutal two year rehab, including five relapses, followed. The two friends persevered. Now Lil Penny is finally sober, back on his feet and thinking about living the full and gratifying life that he let slip away in a haze of booze, drugs and promiscuous women.

The first step in that plan is rebuilding his lost fortune. Anfernee wants a ring, this fact he will not deny. But he also plans to hand all of the $1.2 million veteran minimum NBA salary over to his old friend. The friend that helped launch his brand in the first place. The friend that went through hell and emerged stronger, wiser and redeemed.

The dynamic duo is reunited and reinvigorated. The Heat would be wise to sign Hardaway because his addition brings not only his veteran leadership, but also his miniature friend. Perhaps the greatest spokesman of all time. Look out world, Lil Penny is back.

10 Ways to Make Money Off Your Kids, Through Sports

Yeah girl, of course cash money baby's condo has a hot tub

Hooray, you had a child! The miracle of life, sprung forth from your fruitful loins, to carry on your bloodline. Look everyone, how cute that baby is, and so smart too.

Of course, you will realize soon enough, that babies spend all their time alternating between filling diapers with loose stool and crying. Sleep? Money? Forget those. Shit, you'll soon think, this drooling dumbass, better start earning his keep.

Most parents don't reach this epiphany. Most keep on raising their children, letting them do whatever they want. One day it's a skateboard, the next it is little league, the next it is basketball; all wasted time and opportunity. Fuck that. You need to focus on one activity and push the kid mercilessly in this pursuit. Sure, they may resent you when they are young, but they will appreciate it when they are rich and famous. And most importantly, a good chunk of that money will be yours!

Now, choose the path to sports millions wisely. The sad fact is, your kid probably isn't athletic but he wants to be a star quarterback or homerun hitting shortstop. Crush those over-saturated, pipe-dreams and focus on something realistic. Here is a handy list of the easiest ways to turn your baby into a sports gravy train.

KnuckleBall Pitcher

Tim Wakefield is like 100 and he is still in the MLB.

The knuckleball, an unhittable gem of a pitch. Unfortunately, it certainly isn't a glamour pitch, most kids would prefer to throw gas or a hammer curve. Fortunately, it doesn't require freakish athletic ability - as most things on this list will have in common - it just requires practice. So get that kid out there all day everyday learning this pitch. It doesn't matter how you earn that contract, just that they do. Because pitcher's salaries are the tits.

Punter

Nobody notices him, but he collects a decent paycheck.

Another sparsely traveled route into a major professional sport. Your kid will want to be the running back or linebacker. Hell no, every other snot-nosed pee-wee player wants that. Plus, have you seen how fast those assholes are? Pull that kid aside and have him spend all day punting. The salary isn't outstanding, but the injury risk is low and the career life-span is outstanding.

American Male Tennis Star

Another first round exit?!?

This one is tough because it does require a good deal of athletic ability. It makes the list because of the sparse number of competitors. For the last decade Andy Roddick has been America's biggest star. That guy sucks. He has won only ONE major tournament in his career. He loses in the early rounds of so many tournaments, I think his coach might be Norv Turner. Your kid can be better than this, I don't care if he is one-legged.

Best of all it is an easy sell. Just hang this picture all throughout the house.

Hubba Hubba

Bowling

Be like Big Earn

Not really a sport and not all that lucrative. This is sort of a compromise if you try everything else on the list and your kid totally sucks at it all. Probably still a decent living, but not going to outfit you in the finest linens and fill your mansion with gold-plated toilets. So probably not the best route. Forget this one, unless your kid is a real lost cause.

Golf

Father son time that is actually going to pay off.

The best real life example, of the benefits of forcing sports greatness on your child. Tiger Woods was ridden to achieve from an early age. Tiger beat the odds through his unwavering dedication and became the richest man in sports. Look how good his life has turned out because of it. Not a care in the world, just basking in a life of opulence and adoration. Your child could be the next Tiger Woods. You better hit the links.

Coach

Dur, I never win anywhere I go, yet I keep getting new million dollar contracts.

Another concession once you've realized your mongoloid child is so appallingly unathletic, that no amount of practice will make a difference. In this case though, the coaching profession can be very lucrative. The best part about coaching is the incestual, tight-knit, nature of the whole operation. Once you're in the inner-circle, no amount of slipshod coaching, will end your career. The same bad coaches keep getting recycled, and everyone is happy collecting million dollar paychecks. Look at Joe Paterno, that guy is incontinent on national TV and Penn State keeps running him out there. Get that kid designing Cover 2 formations stat.

Snowboarding

Get that little daredevil out there

Snowboarding is another sport that requires athleticism and innate ability. Your kid does have one big leg up though, he is fearless and has pliable bones. Get him on the slopes, trying 720's and 20 foot airs, out of the half-pipe, at a young age and he will have a big head-start on the competition. Broken bones and scars add character anyways.

Gaming

Are you tired Johnny? Here have some more Mountain Dew.

Professional gaming is becoming more and more mainstream and profitable. Synergistically, kids already love video games. This avenue will probably require the least pushing of anything on this list. Perfect. Just don't drone on like all those overly involved parents about "going outside" and "getting fresh air." Instead draw the shades and bring in plates of pizza rolls, taquitos and energy drinks; while your wonderful child, gains valuable Halo experience.

Nascar

Everyone can drive a car, just make your child do it fastest.

Again, not really a sport, but I'll allow it for this discussion. Big money in Nascar and all that little punk of yours needs to do is drive his car faster and more recklessly, than his competition. Have you ever seen teenagers drive? They are naturally inclined to racing, because they are too dumb to understand the repercussions of a crash and too irresponsible to care. Now start your child on F-1 go-karts at the age of 5 and watch how good they get at driving 200 mph.

Fringe Sport of the Future

Probably should have a couple kids if you go this route. You know, just in case.

Just 20 years ago; snowboarding, skateboarding and motocross, were fringe hobbies, barely in the realm of public awareness. Now they are the fastest growing sports around and the darlings of children the world over. Be a trailblazer and identify the fringe sport of the future. If your kid is the first at something, they don't even have to be the best at it. Just choose wisely, I'd hate to see you waste tens of thousands on wing-suits, with no eventual pay-off. That is even worse than just letting your child grow up to become an accountant.

You Should Hate Spain's National Team

How could you break this angel's heart?

I knew even before the Spain versus Paraguay contest today, that I would be rooting for Paraguay, or more accurately rooting against Spain. What I didn't anticipate is the numerous reasons I would find to reinforce my anti-Spain stance over the 94 minutes of drama filled soccer, which ended in a 1-0 Spanish victory. Now my dislike, originally based on the flimsiest of reasons, has become a fully flushed out cause that I would like to convert followers to join.

To begin, I was rooting against Spain because it is the country that created the NBA's most unabashedly despicable flopper, disgusting marshmallow Pau Gasol. A man so filthy and hygienically deficient that a hobo would be hesitant to share his refrigerator box home with him for fear of the lingering smell that would be left behind. Yes I am pettily routing against a country because a man that was born there plays for the Los Angeles Lakers. Yes I am proud of that. No, YOU should get a grip.

I learned today that my instinctual dislike of Spain was justified for many reasons. I can't stand their pretty boy star, David Villa and his date rapist soul patch. I was offended by Sergio Ramos' girl hair, and while I'm glad he wasn't seriously injured, I think it is funny that he got kicked in the face. Spain's lax national attitude, copious amounts of vacation time and afternoon siestas offend my hardworking American sensibilities. I scoff at manager, Vincente Del Bosque's trademark trenchcoat. Way to steal your look from Inspector Gadget, you asshat. I abhor the flopping. Basically, I've come to learn that the Spanish National soccer team is unlikeable in every way and can only be respected by serial killer enthusiasts and snuff film connoisseurs.

On top of all the irredeemable qualities look what Spain did today, crushing the hopes of Paraguay. Poor, landlocked, impoverished Paraguay; a tiny nation of only 6.3 million people. Paraguay had managed to battle its way to the quarterfinals and were it not for a missed penalty kick, may have advanced to the semifinals. Spain cruelly ruled over Paraguay's indigenous people until 1811, they couldn't make amends by letting the national soccer team advance and bring a spot of national pride to the people of Paraguay?

Perhaps most contemptibly Spain's victory likely made Paraguay soccer fan Larissa Riquelme cry. Pictured above, Riquelme is a beautiful angel bestowed upon the world during the World Cup. Her innovative cell phone placement has made her a minor but deserved internet celebrity over the past month. Only a group of monsters driven by black souls, overflowing with evil, would dare crush the dreams of such a sweet paragon of virtue. Riquelme even promised to run naked through the streets, painted in the red, white and blue of Paraguay; had they managed to win the World Cup trophy. Thanks for c-blocking us all Spain. Dickheads.

Spain plays Germany in the semifinals and I hope they get crushed as should you. If the reasons listed above haven't turned you against this global menace I think it might be time to take a long, hard look at yourself in the mirror, because you sir are officially no better than a terrorist.

Celtics 09-10 Postmortem

The 2009-2010 Boston Celtics season was cooked up by some god in the midst of a hallucinogen induced madness. Driven by sadistic humor and the rampaging need to tease, taunt and torment before providing a run of excitement  and unabashed joy; ultimately culminating with the one fatal flaw rearing its grotesque head.

The team started off resembling the Celtics that operated with a super-swarm mentality, the whole greater than the sum of its parts. Destroying the opponents' will with impassioned defense and innumerable offensive weapons. Peaking on a Christmas day victory over Orlando's Magic even while lacking the engine of unstoppable intensity that is Kevin Garnett.

Post Christmas depression extended through the remainder of the regular season as the squad battled to stay afloat in a roiling sea of inconsistent and mediocre basketball. The period was defined by the rearing of that evil fatal flaw. The undefinable ability to keep piling the dirt on the opponents casket. The need to not only knock the enemy to the ground but to stomp on his windpipe. The insatiable desire to impose dominance until the final tick of the clock.

It was a maddening regular season. Luckily netdugout.com didn't launch until mid-May and thus I was spared from driving myself to lunacy with my inability to make hide nor hare of the team's topsy turvy season. A task that would have surely concluded with me typing away in the common room of a mental institution. Working on the great American novel on a broken typewriter with a missing Z key, wearing a bathrobe and a proper newsman's cap with a press pass affixed to the bill.

But oh the glorious redemption of the post season. Jubilation, domination, opponent's exasperation, an end to the tribulation. The Celtics stormed through the gauntlet of the Eastern Conference, besting overrated opponents with a quiet confidence and unwavering determination, projecting an air of invincibility throughout. They got stronger with the progression of each series; changing perceptions on both their ability as a team and the NBA's latest new wave of superstars. The old dogs were going to have their day, with the help of their innovative whirlwind, Rajon Rondo.

Destiny had paved the way for a harkening to the NBA of yesteryear and a meeting of the two franchises that lorded over the NBA throughout history save for brief uprisings from His Airness, the Bad Boys and Los Spurs. Destiny had deemed that the two prior champions would meet for the new age rivalries rubber match. Fittingly, the Finals held no real rhyme or reason. Hero's became goats game to game and the old adages were as useless as the 2009 Eastern Conference Championship t-shirts that were printed for sale across New England.

The Finals became a microcosm of the season for our protagonists from Boston. The offense came and went, with the exception of at the conclusion of quarters and halves, when it remained consistently offensive in the sense that it hurt to watch. The Celtics maintained their quiet determination and confidence, stealing game 2 on the back of Jesus Shuttlesworth who inexplicably disappeared for the remainder of June. With the highs came the lows, intertwined for the season and refusing separation. Incomprehensible no-shows in games 1, 3 and 6 allowed the Lakers to push into a home court game 7 for the whole bag of marbles.

The fatal flaw refused to stay dormant and snuck its gnarled face into the aspirations for banner 18; destroying the narrative for the fans of the green team. Thirteen point advantages are by no means insurmountable. The foot must stay on the gas pedal. Undermanned and running on reserves, deep in enemy territory, at the end of a long and bloody campaign, the Celtics were unable to deal the final blows necessary to shatter the psyche of their opponent.

The ending is especially hard to stomach due to the validation it provides that smug asshole Phil Jackson in his surpassing of the great architect Red Auerbach. Luckily Auerbach gets to have his say posthumously through his final shot across Jackson's bow: “He’s never tried building a team and teaching the fundamentals,” Auerbach said. “When he’s gone in there, they’ve been ready-made for him. It’s just a matter of putting his system in there. They don’t worry about developing players if they’re not good enough. They just go get someone else.”

Sour grapes and taunting from beyond the grave aside, the Lakers earned their title. Victory depended on the inconsistent three point shooting of a maniac and the mere centimeters of difference between Rondo being able to push his steal from Bryant back into play. But Artest's shot was true and it must be acknowledged that the Lakers made the necessary plays to attain the championship.

The season's climax doesn't invalidate the journey. The Celtics were unable to leave their one fatal flaw in April with the rest of the regular seasons peccadillos, but they fought valiantly to a game seven finale that nobody gave them a reasonable chance to reach.  This was a convention flouting season and it ended almost fittingly; breaking the long-held traditions of American cinema and allowing the bad guys to escape with the trophy.