random fire

Just got back from eating a good dinner and watching the Celtics and Magic do battle in Game 6. During the evening a few observations came to mind. I rarely watch the NBA so the below may not hold true for every game, but they sure did tonight.

* Dwight Howard is the new Shaq. That guy couldn't sink back-to-back free throws if the rim were the size of a swimming pool. There's no telling how many points the Magic lose every game because of this. Must be a thing with Orlando big men.

* Neither Dwight Howard nor Paul Pierce could hit a pair of clutch free throws to save his life. Howard was missing from the line all night, and both Howard and Pierce missed 2-of-2 for the tie or lead in the final minutes. Um, guys, it's the NBA playoffs. Perhaps nailing just one potentially game-saving free throw could be in order?

* Brian Scalabrine, a.k.a. "The Whitest White Guy in the NBA" or "I'm only getting minutes because KG is injured," blocked a Dwight Howard shot. Seriously, I'm not making this up. I saw it happen.

* Speaking of which, if teams can barely hang with Boston now, what's it gonna be like when Garnett comes back? The Celts should just roll through the rest of the playoffs if they can get that guy back in time.

* Hedo Turkoglu is the new Vlade Divac. He's somehow effective, but boy does he look hilariously clumsy with the ball in his hands. I can't understand how that guy can intimidate anyone off the dribble. Every time he made a move to the paint he had the whole Vlade-dribble thing going, like he's in slo-mo and yet for some reason nobody bothers to steal the ball or get in his way (I guess they're too dumbstruck at the display of anti-stealth they're witnessing), and sure enough he'd get close to the rim and brick it off the bottom or it'd go soaring high off the board or something. If he steps inside the 3-point line he becomes harmless.

* The above only makes it all the more bizarre that down the stretch, Pierce bought a Hedo fake toward the basket hook, line, and sinker, leaving Turkoglu wide open to make what might have been the biggest 3 of the game or even the series (increased the lead from 3 to 6 if I remember right, with maybe 90 seconds to go). I think he even backed into a screen. As it transpired I swear I could hear Doc Rivers screaming, "Paul, that's HEDO TURKOGLU!! The klutz can't hit anything within 12 feet of the basket and he sure isn't gonna blow by you. NOOOOO!!!" Paul Pierce, you're an idiot.

Finally, I've gotta beat a dead horse some more. What is the deal with women, comiserating, and barstools? I'm well on my way to the conclusion that every PUA on the planet must either be missing a brain or be bored beyond belief. I'm a giant 0-for-2 on bar company over the past week, as this time a couple of me-centric neighbors wouldn't shut up about the minutia of all things unimportant for the entire freakin' two hours I was watching my basketball game. Bleep! Next time I just stab my eardrums with pencils before I leave the house.

Are there men-only bars out there? And if so, how does one go about finding such locales? It's not like they're highly advertised if they exist. I know I'm being too broadbrushed here, but...I mean, really. Some of the "bar night" clientele are folks I'd just rather not spend time with. Remove the annoying chatterboxes and the poseurs they bring in, and the bar becomes a man cave with good company, good refreshments, and good sports. Come on, ain't that what bars are supposed to be for anyway? Or maybe I've just gotta throw in the towel on this whole "associate with people by eating out with strangers" thing. It's twisting my view of humanity for sure.

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