When Rudy Gobert scored in the dying seconds of victory already in the bag for the Timberwolves against the Jazz on Friday nightMalik Beasley took on the former Jazz center and gave him the why.
When Zion Williamson threw a monster – no, a monster slayer with an ax – 360-windmill dunk in the final seconds of the Pelicans’ eventual victory over Phoenix, Chris Paul, among other Suns, reacted with great outrage, including jostling between players and representatives from both sides.although no one seems to be stepping on Williamson himself to challenge the biggest of the big men.
What the hell is going on in the NBA these days?
Has the brotherhood become so friendly that one team or one player can’t bully the feelings of another player, another team? Ooh, is it against the unwritten rules?
An unwritten rule for real is not to undermine an opponent as they soar through the air to the edge. What you don’t do. It may be written somewhere.
Either way, it doesn’t matter what Gobert and Williamson did.
This isn’t the NBA I remember from the good old days – the days when you – everyone – wanted Cholula thrown into the competitive mix, regularly reminding fans this wasn’t war. , and that violence was not to be defended or tolerated — unless Bill Laimbeer was the catcher, but it was a basketball battle. A struggle. A passionate encounter. Especially when it came to two quality teams.
There was nothing wrong with one side shooting at another. If respect and friendship were to be built, it happened over time, not automatically. These guys, a long time ago, didn’t act after games like they were all heading to Larry Bird’s house for a backyard barbecue.
No. It was that #%@*&$-ing Larry Bird could take a leap forward, only to add more colorful descriptive language.
The olden days of competition and rivalries were… what’s the word, fierce? Anything fiercer than fierce.
It was basketball.
When Williamson spun off with bad intentions to punctuate the Pels’ win, advertisers reacted with disapproval.
One said: “The Phoenix Suns felt it was totally unnecessary.”
The other said, “That’s how rivalries start, though.”
Both were correct.
It was pointless, just as Gobert’s basket wouldn’t affect the result.
But rivalries are good. They are part of what makes the sport so enjoyable.
These people aren’t just players, they’re characters in a room. And the more authentic the piece, the more convincing it becomes.
Nothing to say about sportsmanship. But when that sportsmanship gets too polite, too nice, too concerned, then basketball can turn into a creepy party favor, and who wants that? Nobody.
Forgive me, do you happen to have a gray baby doll?
NBA players make big money, more money than most fans, dudes and dudettes who step out into a cold, cruel world every day to earn enough to make ends meet, might even begin to imagine . Good. They are the best in the world at what they do.
But when players on different teams become too cordial and sympathetic, it can send the wrong message to fans, one that screams, or could scream, “Hey, everything is fine here. It doesn’t matter who wins this game, we all win billions of dollars, so it doesn’t really matter what happens between those lines. We have what we want. The joke is about idiots paying $200 for a ticket, $15 for a beer, seven dollars for a pretzel, and $30 for a parking spot.
It ruins the game, its integrity.
Wait a minute. Upon closer examination, it may be positive that opposing players are getting mad at the other guys for throwing an unnecessary dunk. At least there’s some emotion in there.
And the best way to handle it all is to remember that and get future competitive revenge.
Rivalries, hurt feelings, left, rivalries, hurt feelings, right, standing, sitting, fight, fight, fight.
Disrespect, imagined or not, usually leads to more effort, more ferocity, more of what people want and more of what they pay to see. And usually, it’s the safe, healthy kind. We have enough damaging animosity in the realms of politics and religion.
It’s just basketball, where players from both teams collide trying to return a ball into a basket, and fans scream with every call. A little force and barbarism, even ruthlessness, are welcome there – on the ground, not in the stands.
Enough with the boyfriend, already.
Of course, these people are adversaries, not enemies, but go ahead and chase them, that’s OK. And if that requires a 360-degree windmill dunk with two seconds left in a 10-point game, okay, okay, okay.
Pass the Cholula.
This will make the burning even better the next time.
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