Blake Griffin Should Be A Travel Agent (Or, Why I Don’t Watch Hoops)

Here’s today’s link.

I thought I was watching basketball, apparently Adrian Peterson put on his Blake Griffin costume, took the handoff, and turned upfield off-tackle.  Count the steps – if this isn’t a travel, bears must not actually sh… look, it’s a travel.

Basketball is a joke.  It’s commonly accepted that superstars “get calls” that other players don’t get.  That’s right, it’s common NBA practice to selectively apply the rules.  Unless you’re Derrick Rose, of course.  (And that’s not even the best “I’m the target of grave injustice” quote this month.  In Chicago alone.  Hi Matt Forte.)

The NBA is the biggest collection of crybaby kids this side of Bay Farm Elementary.  They whine and moan and groan and plead and generally are more dramatic and demonstrative when they get called for a foul than most soccer players.  I refuse to pay hard-earned dollars for bad theater and bad officiating.  These divas make Madonna blush.

And don’t get me started on the endless fouling and timeouts at the end of games, or the difference between a blocking and charging foul, (pretty much the ref’s mood at the moment) or the numerous issues regarding “amateur” basketball, and certainly let’s push the whole “David Stern and the NBA lost all semblance of integrity with the complete charade that was the vetoed Chris Paul to LA trade” thing under the rug.

A roll is a roll.  And a toll is a toll.  And if you don’t call no walks, I ain’t watching your games. (Hi Mel!)

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