If You See Something, Say Something

[Photo Credit: Kristyna Wentz-Graff]

IYSSSS is our semi-regular Internet intelligence report, a liberal arts approach to following the NBA on the Web. E-mail us at jewsforjesusshuttlesworth@gmail.com if you've got any suggestions.

Milwaukee Journal Sentinel [via NBA Off-Season]: I promise that two of those feet in that picture above belong to a mascot, and the other two belong to Brandon Jennings. And, I promise that if you click this link, you will see pictures of the two of them engaging in silly string warfare. Pinky swear.

ESPN's "SportsNation": No doubt that Simmons is a polarizing figure, and for good reason. But there's no denying that when he hits—whether in writing, podcasting, whatever—it's normally thunderous. His spoof of "The Decision" is no different. And anything with Michelle Beadle is the best.

Advertising Age: An inside baseball look at how "The Decision" came to be. Interesting for sure, but you've got to admit it's a little creepy just how excited Ari Emanuel is about the whole affair.

NBA Off-Season: A kind suggestion to LeBron that the journey to restoring his image should begin with entering the Dunk Contest. Which I fully co-sign, since his act of backing out of last year's contest was when the evil began creeping in anyway.

TrueHoop: And now, for me at least, away from LeBron and back to Summer League. If you didn't catch the T-Wolves game yesterday, John Krolik (of the classy Cavs: The Blog) breaks down Wesely Johnson's debut. Sounds like the kid's got patience, already knows his role and carries a few wows in his back pocket. Basically his play mirrors his appearance.

Slam Online: I'll take any excuse to post this video, because it's an era-defining moment. Young Iverson making the world tremble, setting history books ablaze.

Team Dreamin' 2011: NETS

At No Regard, we love basketball. We love the spectacle and strategy of the game, but sometimes the league's lack of imagination confounds and disappoints us. Call us optimists, visionaries, or kids who watched too much Space Jam, but we have ideas. Damn are we gonna share 'em.

It's no secret that the Nets are having trouble filling their roster. Jay, Prokhorov and Co. whiffed so hard on LeBron it would have embarrassed the Mighty Casey. David Lee realized he could never live in New Jersey with this photo drifting around the internet, and it's been rumored that Carlos Boozer is still laughing at the Nets' offer.


Well sports fans, that was it. New Jersey ran through Plans A, B, and C, and have made it all the way down to Plan K. By this we mean Kevin Daley, aka Special K, the superstar of your friendly neighborhood Harlem Globetrotters.

Yes, that's right. For the 2010-2011 season, the Nets should sign a Harlem Globetrotter.

Bibby's World: The Case for Bibby

Don't know how we locked this down, but we'd like to introduce you to No Regard's newest blogging sensation... Mike Bibby! He'll be checking in whenever he can, just to remind us: It's Bibby's World, we just live in it!

Dear Miami,

I heard you need a Point Guard. I heard you don't have much money after signing those three other guys. I heard you've got beaches down there. But did YOU hear about Mike Bibby?

The Reaffirmation of Our Faith

Morale is low. I'm rehashing some of what was touched on earlier on this site, but it's necessary.

A lot of people are angry at LeBron for one reason or another. They're angry that he's shrinking away from his responsibilities and destiny. Well then everyone was reading from the wrong scripture, because the reason the basketball gods gave us LeBron James was never to save Cleveland or strike down legends and build empires as one lonely mercenary. He was put here to fundamentally and aesthetically change how basketball is played, and giggle while doing it. Shit got way too serious in Cleveland for him to follow through with this promise. He was shackled in Mike Brown's non-system, surrounded by well-meaning, unskilled peasants. The result (that is true, but too rarely stated): Watching LeBron James play basketball hasn't been too much fun for the past few years. When he "does what he's supposed to do," it resembles football to the point of nausea. He cradles the ball, cranks his head down and bulls his way to two free throws. When he goes his own way, he settles for jumpers that he makes at a clip just high enough to keep shooting recklessly.

But in Miami the basketball will be better. It will be playground ball meets ballet, visceral fun meets high art. It'll be like listening to a Gucci Mane mixtape through an opera house's sound system, while Dr. Cornel West stands on stage telling dick jokes.

Some people are angry at how this new Miami Heat was constructed, saying that it all seemed too inorganic or something, that LeBron and company didn't work or put in the time to earn this team. What? How are teams constructed, then? It's not like getting lucky in the draft is more honorable than signing a few very talented free agents one day. Teams aren't cultivated, cucumbers are. Just because some teams take a few years to grow and gel as a championship unit and others take the plunge into the elite overnight doesn't mean one is more meaningful or impressive or right. When a veteran does this same exact thing to try to win that one elusive ring, we applaud him. Three guys doing it in their prime? We should be throwing parades. This is what we've always asked of stars, to value winning over everything else.

But the biggest contingent of anger over this South Beach jaunt is that now we know the champions for the next five years. First of all, let's all just relax for one second here. These two superstars and Chris will win most of their games, but there are a few holes here, no? Starting with all those empty roster spots. Surely they'll try to fill them with defenders and shooters who'll take the minimum salary just to wear boat shoes, meet Rick Ross and go to clubs with these nice young fellows, but let's wait to see just exactly who boards the yacht with them before we disregard the competition at hand. Plus, doesn't anyone remember the last time we tuned in to the LeBron show? He was busy giving up on his 60-win team in the playoffs. So there's that.

But more to the point, there's never been actual parity in the league. Last season, everyone said the Lakers would win, and they did. The year before that, the very same thing happened. The year before that, the Celtics were the pre-season picks and the post-season celebrants. The 2010-2011 season may not be any different, and there's nothing wrong with that. Only one team wins the championship every year, it doesn't matter who.

Which brings us to the things that do matter. I think we've all forgotten why we're here (which is understandable considering the nonsense we all just went through). So, let's renew our No Regard vows, shall we?

NBA Happy Hour: New World Order

TGIF basketball fans! It's the end of the week, so that means NBA Happy Hour! Grab a beer, follow the rules and start the weekend with a Don Nelson-level buzz.

It goes without saying that we enter this weekend peering into a dark fog.  Unable to see if ahead lies a looming Everest, or an infinite abyss, it seems dubious to crack a beer and rewatch The Decision.  We don't know if we'll be going back to that for a few years, let alone toasting it this afternoon.  After all, what would we do?  Drink every time the words "Miami" or "Heat" are mentioned?  Anytime Vitamin Water gets screentime?  Whenever Bron mentions his mother? Anytime a question that isn't "Where are you going?" is asked before the question "Where are you going?" is finally asked?

Alright, we admit, that sounds like a pretty good time.  But, our wounds are too raw, our compassion for Cleveland too deep, and our supply of beer to limited to take on such a game today.

3 Year Slumber Party

On a day like today, all is understood. The ire, the frustration, the shock; not since Max left the Wild Things stranded on the shore has there been such cause for despondency over the loss of a king. About to bear witness to the world’s first sports dynasty assembled on the buddy system, we struggle to sort it out, and as we do, a peculiar idea surfaces—the NBA is ruined. Dead and gone. Miami used their drug money and sunshine to swindle superstars, stratify the league's talent, and flagrantly eschew tradition to create an elite squad with only rings in mind. Doesn't that sound just awful?

South Beach is for Assholes

That was awful. This whole thing is awful. I don't know if I can say it better than Straight Bangin', but I will try later. For now, I'm going to pack a suitcase for the weekend, maybe read a bit, and purge myself of the shit I just swallowed. Gross.

We've got a new supervillain, boys and girls. Consider this your home for anti-LeBron tirades, starting right now.

Wuttup Cleveland. Heads high, Durant is gonna throw it down for the Midwest.

Event Horizon: Mavs

This evening, LeBron James is slated to take up an hour of the world’s time to tell us where he’s going to be rapping and sleeping for the next couple of years.  This gesture has so far been called vacuous, despicable, ego-maniacal and poisonous to sports. At No Regard, we think it’s hilarious and have imagined some of our favorite possibilities.  Check back as Bron’s 9 PM deadline approaches for more predictions…

First of all, this is definitely what's happening, so stop shaking your head and get whatever smug "are they serious with this" smirk might have appeared on your face gone.

Immediate Impact: Cuban, Carlisle and Co. finally have a legitimate 2 guy, but it's one nobody expected. Dirk Nowitzki. I mean how seriously, pants-wettingly terrifying is the idea of that jump-shooting caveman being the SECOND best scorer on a team?