NBA

After reading the predictions from the staff of HoopsHype.com,I decided to make my own predictions, so I can look back and brag, or forget forever. Here it goes:



Defensive Player of the Year: Dwight Howard
As the only player in history ever to lead the NBA in FG%, rebounds and blocked shots twice in a row, the defending defensive MVP has an advantage: we know he's the best defender already. You can't use stats to calculate MVP, since crappy teams have awesome players way too often, but for DMVP? Yeah, those stats pretty much translate to D12's defensive godliness. Of course, it's deeper than that. When Dwight's in the game, offenses fear him. Hell, when I watch a Magic game, I try not to even look in the lane, just in case. His footwork's always improving, and that shows in how quick his rotations are. He changes shots by being Dwight Howard. His shoulders are the size of my head on a bad hair day, and for shit's sake, he's won it twice in a row. No one in the history of the NBA has won it three times, but if anyone could, it'd be D12...But if he doesn't win it for some cosmically unfathomable reason, Rajon Rondo will. If Dwight Howard is #1 on D, Rajondo is #1.5. He lead a Chris Paul-less league in steals, but something tells me CP3 won't be able to keep up in that category. Consider CP3's steal-champion title stolen.
Other players to consider: Rajon Rondo, Chris Paul, LeBron James, Josh Smith, Gerald Wallace

Sixth Man: Mike Miller
I hate the guy, for reasons I still don't understand, but he's in the perfect position to win this award. Miami has PG issues (Carlos Arroyo barely deserves to breathe next to the talent with which he shares the court), so look for Lebron to run the point and Miller to play significant minutes as SF. This will allow Miami its most potent lineup, and both Wade and James will be able to feed it to Miller all day. Usually players who win this award are known for shooting, e.g. Crawford, Manu, Barbosa, etc. Miller, as a player, is only good for that. That's probably why I don't like him. He has size, but can only shoot. Such a waste of a good body (that sounds weird).
Others: Jamal Crawford, Hakim Warrick, Manu, one of the Philly guards (Lou Williams/Evan Turner/Jrue Holiday)

Coach of the Year: Stan van Gundy
He runs a tight outfit, and I don't mean his turtlenecks (which, incidentally, he can't wear anymore). I don't want to say he's the most dedicated coach in the NBA, because he's probably not, but when he coaches games, he's coaching every second of it. The guy never gives up. It's admirable, and so far, overlooked for far too long. The Magic are going to make a deep playoff run yet again, and you can thank Dwight Howard or Rashard Lewis (don't) or Vince (I'm not even going to finish this) or their bench (but who developed them?), and you'd be missing the most important part of this Magic team. SVG is the master of panic, because he's also a master of winning. Don't forget that, and don't forget that no other coach coaches for the whole 48 minutes more energetically than SVG.
Others: Jerry Sloan, Phil Jackson, Erik Spoelstra, Keith Smart (haha I wish/hope)

Rookie of the Year: Blake Griffin
I don't think it will be much of a contest. Blake has otherworldly athleticism and he attacks the rim in a way that can only be described as a one-man blitzkrieg. It's probably going to get him injured, but you know what? I don't care. He is the best player playing in his rookie season. "What about John Wall?" you ask. Well, what about him? I'll admit that recently, guards have been winning more ROY awards (minus Okafer and Durant), but Wall's talents don't really separate him from other ROY guards. Maybe he'll develop into the all-star player we think he will, (Roy, CP3, DRose and Tyfreak are definitely in that category), but compared to their abilities before they played, Wall just doesn't seem like he can come close. Griffin, though, stands out like a motherfreakin' sore thumb while playing video games. He has LeBron athleticism with Garnett's tenacity. And that's the type of analogy a ROY will need.
Others: John Wall, Evan Turner, Tiago Splitter, Demarcus Cousins

Most Improved Player of the Year: JJ Hickson
LBJ's departure created a hole in the Cavs' rotation that Hickson can fill. He's going to be starting at PF, and if Jamison starts playing like his old self, Byron Scott is smart enough to start him at SF, ahead of Moon. Thus, Hickson is primed for more minutes, and thus, more "improvement."
Others: DJ Augustin, Wesley Matthews, Hakim Warrick, Mike Conley, Dorell Wright, Elton Brand (you heard it here first!) and Deandre Jordan (I like the guy, okay?)

MVP: LeBron James

I feel like the only reason why he wouldn't win would be because the media loves to hype Kevin Durant. Granted, Durantula is an MVP-calibre player, but in the wake of "The Decision," people seem to have forgotten how not-close the voting was between LeBron and KD last year. There was some talk of LBJ being the first unanimous MVP ever. That's how dominant he was. KD? Compared to the monster (regular) season LeBron had, KD's MVP campaign was cute, like sandbox cute, pogs cute, Pokemon cards cute. Sure, he's gotten better, and after the Worlds Tournament, he's become insanely popular among the media. But in the end, LBJ pretty much means MVP.
Others to consider: Kevin Durant, Dwight Howard, Dwyane Wade, Kobe Bryant

NBA Playoffs (East Finals): Miami and Orlando

Boston can't keep up with the Magic at their best, despite what happened last year. They only added size, but their injuries are getting way too frequent as they get older. Last year, it was okay, and they even meant to take more rest, but they're just getting too old. And they're even older this year, with the O'neals playing at center. The only way they can beat Orlando is if Rondo plays at an MVP level, because quite frankly, Orlando's bench is younger and better than Boston's, and that will be the difference maker. Oh, and Dwight Howard too. Miami gets there without incident. They may have trouble with Chicago, but eh, I'm not convinced DRose can facilitate enough to lead a team, even one with so many more options now in Boozer and Korver. Noah's going to be a force, though, so look out.

NBA Playoffs (West Finals): Lakers and Thunder

The only others we can expect to see are the Mavs and Rockets. Mavs are too old, though, and Rockets are too Yao. In case that was lost in translation, it means injury-prone. A team with Scola as the leading scorer isn't going very far, no matter how scrappy they play, and trust me, without Yao's security in the air (not his vertical, just his reach), the Rockets play a very, very scrappy game. Except Scrappy doesn't get you to the Conference Finals. Skill does.
Speaking of lack of skill, if the Mavs had all their players in their prime (Kidd, Marion, Butler and Dirty Dirk? Yikes), then they would be title contenders every year. Sadly, even Cuban can't afford those players in their prime, so they get shells of All-stars. And while they have talent, it's closer to a shell of their former talent, and shells don't get you to the Conference Finals. Kevin Durant does. And he will.

Finals: Lakers and Miami

I haven't decided who's gonna win yet, but I don't think I care. It's going to be too fun to watch/I'm hella tired of writing. =___=

Ten Minutes Early

Here I am, twice a week, ten minutes early.

What kind of college student comes ten minutes early to a lecture? Any other class would be honored to have me on time, if at all, but this class (what’s it called again?) this class, where the professor loves to la-bore tediously through lost literature, where Dickinson was a lonely recluse, and Poe? Another drunken loser. Robby Frost just shits out words, and somehow they’re in meter. Fuckin’ Salinger? He’s okay, but one novel does not a great writer make, right? Plus, who has time to read a million short stories?

The short story is terrible, but really, it’s the novella that’s the toilet paper of the literary world. The novel is like taking a big dump, just letting it all out there. Then the short story is like taking a small dump. Most definitely you worked really hard on pushing it all out, but in reality, only a few nuggets of shit can be seen. And that’s okay, because you got most of it out of your system. The rest you just leave in your body to dump out a later time.

But the novella, man. The novella is in between a big dump and holding shit in. It’s like that half-shit, where most of the main dookie goes out, but some of it still sticks on your asshole. You can’t really push it out, either, since it just hangs there beyond the control of your sphincter. So what do you do instead? You gotta wipe off a fatty chunk of it.

That’s the novella: literature’s toilet paper.

So here I am, sitting, ten minutes early. Even in high school, I had five minutes in between classes, so I couldn’t be ten minutes early, but here in college, almost three years now, I’m ten fucking minutes early.

“Why?” you ask.

Why. So I can savor ten or eight or five or one minute of conversation with someone. Twice a week I wait, in order to hang on to every vocal sound or squeak that escapes her angelic voicebox. I cling to every chuckle that her soul presents me, regifting it mentally to myself for later. I cling so tightly, that even her smiles have a sound, like the sweet silence of a springtime valley.

For anyone in college who has a crush on someone, you understand, right? Securing that seat beside your crush, the seat that technically isn’t assigned but you still claim as “your” seat all trimester long, is monumentally critical, crucial.

“Crucial to what?” you ask.

Anything. It could be crucial to a budding relationship, wherein you bank on proximity as a foundation for your romantic game plan.

It could be crucial to getting to know her better, and maybe realizing it might not work at all.

It could be crucial to starting out infatuated, but ending up with a very good friend, willing to listen and loyal until the end.

It could be crucial academically, too. When you don’t take notes because you’re daydreaming about her, you can ask to borrow hers. It’s all part of the plan, right?

Or, it could be crucial, when you’ve already had a crush on her for a long time, to reevaluate yourself, to realize how weak you are, how afraid you are despite a confident mask, like the one I wear.

Or you could rationalize it in your own mind. It’s not your confidence that’s lacking. No, you college boy, you. You have exuded confidence to the point of cockiness your whole life. No, it’s the girl who’s at fault. Yeah, she’s so amazing that she has made you nervous about approaching her.

So a spiral begins.

It starts with a hesitation. Maybe I shouldn’t make a move, you say, three weeks into the trimester, twice week and ten minutes early every time. I shouldn’t, you say, because maybe she’s out of my league.

You’ve always been confident enough to think no one was out of your league, but all of a sudden, she’s the one.

Then you build her up, put her on a pedestal, and the higher she rises in your mind (and heart, I guess, but your heart’s blind as hell at this point), the more afraid of her you are. If you’ve never been afraid to get a girl, and you find a girl that you can’t get, that means she’s something special right? So the more time you spend afraid of her, the more special she becomes. Then, the more special she becomes, the more afraid of approaching her you become, which just wastes more time, which you spend daydreaming about her and putting her on a pedestal. And up and up she goes in your mind, and down and down you go.

Until three years later, three years of building up this girl in your mind, three years of being afraid of anything more than telling her jokes, you finally get that seat.

At last, the seat that will force you to sit and talk to her and have any number of discussions. The Seat. And what happens when you get the Seat? You come to class ten minutes early every time to catch her, and you realize that you still can’t move past the friend stage. You were friend-zoned faster than a third grader after the last bell before summer, and like the alarmed elementary schoolteacher, you just realized that they’re gone, the kids and your chances. Summer’s out.

So you take off your mask of confidence every day before lecture, place it on a table in your apartment, and you walk to class. You’re ten minutes early, like clockwork. And just this once, she’s already there, in her not-assigned-but-forever-claimed seat next to yours. You make your remarks, and she laughs, because she always does, because she’s perfect, right?

And after a minute of her being perfect in ways that make angels covet, she asks you something you never thought in a million years you’d hear.

“Can you take notes for me?”

Her perfection crumbles, but your heart is blind.

She leaves five minutes before class starts, after giggling at your jokes of course, and you begin to take notes for her.

The unfounded crush, never realized but always yearning and eventually dying, is a short story. The two never meet, never greet and no contact is established. The love story, the one where boy gets girl and happiness is found between palms, between lips, between hearts, is a novel. It is the great epic, the highest order of literature, the greatest accomplishment a relationship can experience.

And where am I, if not in a short story nor a novel?

I’m ten minutes early, again. Ten minutes early in my not-assigned-but-still-mine-forever-because-it’s-all-I-really-have-left-of-her seat, wallowing in the toilet paper of relationships, the novella of romances.

Fuck literature.

It makes me sad

that a lot of kids today, with the abundance of resource available to them, don't really know the important musicians that preceded their generation. Sure, they may have heard a few names dropped here and there, but for a lot of people, the only time where they hear music before 1995 is if it's covered in Glee.


I suppose it's a good thing that Glee does this, but ultimately, it points to the larger problem that Glee HAS to do this in order for people to hear about musicians and music from before this decade. It's sad, but probably not a big deal at all.


After all, the first time I heard about Janis Joplin was from a 30 Rock episode.


I am just part of the problem.