DeAndre Jordan is the greatest free agent since the NFL and AFL were stashing players from each other in the mid-60s. He also got more love than LeBron James got from Miami when he made the decision, and all he had to do was sit in his house, play Twister and not look at his cellphone.
That is genius. It is also weaselhood of the first order, since he did invalidate his handshake with Mark Cuban, with further points deducted for never facing the man and saying he was breaking his word.
But hey, being the first max contract signing to get Stockholm syndrome during the process comes at a price.
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We now expect the next great high school recruit who decides against a school to say so because “They didn’t show me they loved me by kidnapping me in my own house.” Sure, the actual story isn’t like that, but I think I speak for everyone ever when I say “screw the actual story.”
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Demolitions expert Jason Pierre-Paul apparently declined New York Giants officials entry into his hospital room to see the level of damage to his hands (he lost one finger to amputation, as it turns out). That the news got out anyway via ESPN’s Adam Schefter serves as a nice reminder to players that not only are a trailer full of M-80s not a source of amusement, but that laws protecting patient privacy are mostly honored in the breach.
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David Chao, the controversial former team doctor of the San Diego Chargers, helpfully explained Pierre Paul in the only way that matters -– by Tweeting out his list of the most to least important fingers for a defensive end.
“1) thumb 2) ring 3) pinkie (4th & 5th most important for power grip) 4) middle 5) index.”
I got news for you, Kildare. The middle finger is ALWAYS the most important finger, because life is more than tackling. Sometimes it’s communicating with opponents, officials and your own coaches too.
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Marshawn Lynch’s biopic (no, you didn’t need to know about it) has been canned for all eternity because the guy making it, Mario Bobino, apparently did a horrific job and then released a trailer for the horrific job without telling Lynch. Artists, sigh.
Bobino, of course, is now writing a script about the experience of working for Lynch, with this helpful leadin, courtesy Rolling Stone:
“My story is the truth, so people know what happened and what I had to deal with. If that movie had come out and it would have been successful, I would have gotten no credit. Now that it's considered a failure, everyone is pointing the finger at Mario Bobino.”
May we make a few points?
• Nobody cared, cares or will care enough to point a finger at Mario Bobino for anything.
• Nobody really cared about a Marshawn Lynch biopic anyway, unless there’s a part in the movie with talking Skittles.
• Friends make lousy biographers anyway.
• Isn’t Conan O’Brien interested in making movies?
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The greatest television moment of the week? Men In Blazers, the conjoined twins formerly known as Roger Bennett and Michael Davies, hosting a two-week show on The Day In Pamplona on Esquire. Not even Jordan on Periscope from inside the belly of the beast (otherwise known as his rec room) beats it for pure mental-ness.
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And finally, I’ll bet Draymond Green is kicking himself for not arranging his own kidnapping. Maybe the David Lee trade just left him too verklempt to tie himself to his own armoire.