flipcritic
05-26-2009, 11:00 PM
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB124329703234152859.html
By JASON GAY
Hey Orlando, what are you doing?
We've been planning our LeBron James NBA Finals party for months. We bought the chips. We've made the dip (jalapeno, cream cheese, pre-game chalk dust). We've ironed the "Witness" T-shirt. We're even wearing a giant white headband 24 hours a day. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have dinner with your future in-laws while wearing a giant white headband? Embarrassing!
And now you're messing it all up, Orlando. You're up 2-1 over Cleveland in the Eastern Conference finals. If not for LeBron's circus shot at the buzzer in Game 2, you'd be up 3-0. We're beginning to think you guys don't even care if LeBron and the Cavaliers don't win an NBA championship.
This is not supposed to happen. You've thrown the NBA master plan into disarray. The other night, a dazed league commissioner David Stern was found wandering Times Square in his Jerry West logo boxer shorts, eating discarded pizza crusts and muttering "Orlando? Orlando?"
Think of poor Nike. They've committed millions of dollars to that fancy ad campaign featuring trash-talking puppets of LeBron and Kobe Bryant. They don't have enough felt to stitch together a trash-talking Dwight Howard puppet. They're going to have to steal a Big Bird and throw on a Magic jersey. Lame.
Think of the kids. All across the land, small children have finally learned how to spell the name of Cleveland's Zydrunas Ilgauskas. Now you're going to make them go back and learn how to spell Hedo Turkoglu? Sorry, kids: summer school.
Think of Cleveland. The entire Pretty Please LeBron Don't Leave Cleveland strategy hinges on Mr. James winning championships in his home state. If you guys crush him, he's going to become a Knick. And sorry, Knicks fans, but that's a worse idea than Matthew McConaughey playing King Lear.
Orlando, you don't need an NBA title. You've got Disney World. You've got glorious weather. Your biggest celebrity fan is Tiger Woods! That guy wins more than George Clooney in "Ocean's Thirteen." He's worth hundreds of millions. He needs an NBA championship like he needs a Costco card.
Still, we admire you, Orlando. You've surprised everyone. You're letting LeBron get his buckets but you're not scared. In Game 3 you swatted him twice in the final moments (Mr. Howard got whistled for a foul, but it was bogus.) and roared away when it mattered. Your once-besieged coach, Stan Van Gundy, is looking like a strategic Yoda, even if he's still taking style tips from Crockett and Tubbs.
So you might wind up in the Finals. We're not throwing out our Witness jersey yet, and we'll keep the headband on, as silly as it now seems. Maybe LeBron can pull off a comeback. Maybe the referees will call every foul in Mr. James' favor -- whoops, sorry, they already do that. Meanwhile, can you guys give Kobe a hand over in L.A.? Need to make sure he at least gets there, or Mr. Stern may never get his pants back on.
By JASON GAY
Hey Orlando, what are you doing?
We've been planning our LeBron James NBA Finals party for months. We bought the chips. We've made the dip (jalapeno, cream cheese, pre-game chalk dust). We've ironed the "Witness" T-shirt. We're even wearing a giant white headband 24 hours a day. Do you know how embarrassing it is to have dinner with your future in-laws while wearing a giant white headband? Embarrassing!
And now you're messing it all up, Orlando. You're up 2-1 over Cleveland in the Eastern Conference finals. If not for LeBron's circus shot at the buzzer in Game 2, you'd be up 3-0. We're beginning to think you guys don't even care if LeBron and the Cavaliers don't win an NBA championship.
This is not supposed to happen. You've thrown the NBA master plan into disarray. The other night, a dazed league commissioner David Stern was found wandering Times Square in his Jerry West logo boxer shorts, eating discarded pizza crusts and muttering "Orlando? Orlando?"
Think of poor Nike. They've committed millions of dollars to that fancy ad campaign featuring trash-talking puppets of LeBron and Kobe Bryant. They don't have enough felt to stitch together a trash-talking Dwight Howard puppet. They're going to have to steal a Big Bird and throw on a Magic jersey. Lame.
Think of the kids. All across the land, small children have finally learned how to spell the name of Cleveland's Zydrunas Ilgauskas. Now you're going to make them go back and learn how to spell Hedo Turkoglu? Sorry, kids: summer school.
Think of Cleveland. The entire Pretty Please LeBron Don't Leave Cleveland strategy hinges on Mr. James winning championships in his home state. If you guys crush him, he's going to become a Knick. And sorry, Knicks fans, but that's a worse idea than Matthew McConaughey playing King Lear.
Orlando, you don't need an NBA title. You've got Disney World. You've got glorious weather. Your biggest celebrity fan is Tiger Woods! That guy wins more than George Clooney in "Ocean's Thirteen." He's worth hundreds of millions. He needs an NBA championship like he needs a Costco card.
Still, we admire you, Orlando. You've surprised everyone. You're letting LeBron get his buckets but you're not scared. In Game 3 you swatted him twice in the final moments (Mr. Howard got whistled for a foul, but it was bogus.) and roared away when it mattered. Your once-besieged coach, Stan Van Gundy, is looking like a strategic Yoda, even if he's still taking style tips from Crockett and Tubbs.
So you might wind up in the Finals. We're not throwing out our Witness jersey yet, and we'll keep the headband on, as silly as it now seems. Maybe LeBron can pull off a comeback. Maybe the referees will call every foul in Mr. James' favor -- whoops, sorry, they already do that. Meanwhile, can you guys give Kobe a hand over in L.A.? Need to make sure he at least gets there, or Mr. Stern may never get his pants back on.