Tag: basketball

Wrestle Kingdom 17 and the greatest dunk in history

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Despite my criticism of the ugliest blet in the industry and my oft-criticisms of Kenny Omega, I still thought that the card for NJPW’s Wrestle Kingdom 17 looked completely stacked, and if not for the whole eastern hemisphere timezone thing, I most definitely would have loved to have seen the show live.  I’m still interested in watching it after the fact, but only time will tell on if I can even find out how to watch it, much less actually have the available time in order to.

So like most wrestling on the other side of the world, I’m left with written results and YouTube clips to piece together how things went.  For the most part, as stacked as the show was, professional wrestling is still professional wrestling, and for the names and narratives that I was aware of going into the event, few things were really any surprises as far as the results went.

All jokes aside, Zack Sabre, Jr. winning the ugliest blet in the industry NJPW Television Championship seemed like a layup of a prediction, as did Kairi retaining the IWPG Women’s Championship.  FTR is clearly wrapping up the blet collector gimmick and were obviously dropping the IWGP Tag Team championships, presumably so that Cash Wheeler can actually heal up from whatever has been hampering him over the last six months.  And it was very obvious that Karl Anderson was going to drop the NEVER championship to Tama Tonga, considering he’s a contracted WWE talent, clearly loaned to the event solely to exchange the strap.

Kazuchika Okada winning the IWGP World Championship was also fairly predictable in my opinion, because NJPW’s formula seems to be, when in doubt, Okada, because he’s basically their Hulk Hogan, and will always draw no matter what, regardless of the fact that I think they could’ve gotten some more mileage out of Jay White being the guy.

The only real surprises of the night were, when Sasha Banks was going to show up, and the fact that Kenny Omega defeated Will Ospreay for the IWGP US Championship.  Obviously, Sasha, now going under Mercedes Mone showed up in the aftermath of Kairi’s match, because why wouldn’t she be immediately thrust into the World title picture?  But I’ve got lots of thoughts and words about Sasha Mercedes that I’ll get to in a separate post, but the rest of this one is basically going to be about Ospreay and Omega.

Firstly, I didn’t think there was chance that Omega was going to go over Ospreay, considering the fact that Omega is contractually obligated to another company, regardless of the positive working relationship between AEW and NJPW.  For the second time now, the IWGP US championship will be taken back to the United States, where it will get more screen time on another promotion’s television time than its own, and it may as well be rechristened the AEW US championship [which they can maybe exchange for the IWGP All-Atlantic Championship which gets equally no domestic television screen timeWill Ospreay is also one of NJPW’s top guys, but he’s still not necessarily a household name to the global audience, and a rub from Kenny Omega would definitely have helped him out tremendously.  Now the loss could very well be a promotion disguised as a demotion, and Ospreay could be positioned for a World title storyline, but considering the post-match press conference, it looks more like a potential character reset is impending, seeing as how he’s now lost the IWGP US and the RevPro championship over the span of the last four months.

But speaking of the post-match press conference, what happened during it is what spawned this entire post coming to fruition.  And as much as I’ve blathered tons of words questioning Kenny Omega the performer, I will have to give credit to him for delivering possibly the greatest verbal dunking on an adversary in the history of the business:

Don Callis: Will Ospreay, you wanted to be Michael Jordan, you wanted to be the man, you wanted to be the GOAT.

Kenny Omega (mumbling): you’ll have to settle for being scottie pippen

DC: Tonight, you’re Scottie Pippen.  That’s what you are, right now.

I legitimately had one of those OHHHHHHHHH moments when I heard that line.  Followed by raucous laughter, and replaying the quip about 15 times.  And then another 15 times with the volume cranked up so that I could actually make out Kenny Omega’s precise words so that I could meme-ify caption the above image to immortalize it and hope it shows up in Google images when people search for “Ospreay Omega Wrestle Kingdom.”

I just don’t think anyone other than me understands just how insulting it is to be called Scottie Pippen.  It’s not just being called a metaphor for being a #2 guy.  A silver medalist.  B+ performer.  It’s not entirely accurate to compare it to being called a Robin to Batman or a Luigi to Mario.  Those are guys that are content and know their role as being sidekicks, second-in-commands.

Scottie Pippen is a guy who believed in his heart that he was on the same level as Michael Jordan.  He thought he didn’t need MJ to win a championship, and on multiple instances, had his chance, and failed.  He’s the living totem of being supremely talented, but not THE man, not QB1, not the first pick in the draft.  He’s just Scottie Pippen, the guy that’s not the best, not the GOAT, and the guy that falls short when it really matters the most.

I’ve said a lot of things about how I don’t think Kenny Omega isn’t as complete of a package as he and the rest of the internet might think.  I think his in-ring work is amazing, but still has some struggles connecting to American audiences.   I think his mic work is average at best, and there’s a reason why he is paired with Don Callis, so he can do the heavy lifting in promos for him.  I still don’t think his heart will ever truly be with AEW in spite of being one of the foundation blocks of the company.

But as far as delivering an atom bomb of a strike in a promo goes, short of the instances where people have crossed lines in digging into the personal, real-lives of their opponents, I don’t think anyone has ever dropped such a devastating, legendary dunking-on, than Kenny Omega did to Will Ospreay at Wrestle Kingdom 17.  I’m hard pressed to believe anyone ever will surpass it, unless they make a better, harder comparison to Scottie Pippen.

With all due respect to the Dream

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I can’t get on board with the trophy for best defensive player of the year being named after anyone but Dikembe Mutombo. 

I love Hakeem Olajuwon, the man is an incredible champion, fantastic human being, and easily one of the greatest players of all time.  And although I’m a little surprised that the stats and numbers don’t support my argument, I think what it really boils down to is the fact that in terms of knee-jerk perception, when people think of legendary defenders, there’s no way Hakeem comes to mind before Dikembe Mutombo does.

I get the NBA’s decision and logic, Olajuwon made more All-Defensive teams than Dikembe did (9 vs. 6), averaged more blocks, had more total blocks, and was vastly the greater steals threat.  But the thing is, Hakeem Olajuwon was outstanding at pretty much everything in basketball, defense and offense.  For god’s sake, he’s one of the only guys in history to ever have a quadruple double.  If not for the existence of Michael Jordan, Hakeem Olajuwon would probably have more MVPs and more championships in his career, and the MVP trophy would’ve been named after him.

When you say the name “Hakeem Olajuwon,” probably the first thing that will come to anyone’s mind is him completely humiliating David Robinson in the 1995 playoffs.  Sure, Olajuwon was statistically the better defender than Mutombo was, but he was still a prolific scorer that was a tremendous offensive force that the Houston Rockets relied upon to carry the team.

But when you say the name “Dikembe Mutombo,” probably the first thing that comes to mind aside from the GEICO commercial, is the countless number of blocks he rejected throughout his illustrious career.  There was a best-of-five playoff series in 1994 where he blocked 31 shots in five games, which is complete insanity, and through his pure defense, his #8 seed Denver Nuggets upset the #1 Seattle Supersonics in one of the greatest upsets in the history of the game.

Mutombo wasn’t a terrible scorer, but it was never his priority to be the man on offense.  All the teams he’s been on have always had a primary scorer aside from him, because his job was always, defense. 

Dikembe Mutombo was defense.  And no disrespect to the Dream, who may have all of the better numbers, but when people think of defense, they’re probably not thinking of him first.  They’re thinking of the finger wagging, the swag, and the guy who built his entire career on being able to alter entire offenses just by being on the court.

I get why the NBA went with Hakeem, but I genuinely think they missed a great opportunity to really make a tsunami instead of a wave.  If it were the Dikembe Mutombo Defensive Player of the Year, the trophy could easily, easily have been a trophy of a hand wagging a finger like Mutombo used to do.  Doing so makes the trophy have swagger and a bit of edge, and players in the league might actually want to step it up defensively if they thought they could win some baller hardware.  Next thing you know, we’re back to the NBA of the 90s of 86-74 final scores, where any action inside the arc usually results in a block or a steal, resulting in all games becoming the glorified three-point shootouts they’ve evolved into anyway.

But all sports fan know the saying, defense wins championships.

An unprecedented level of ownage

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Fascinating: Scottie Pippen’s ex-wife, Larsa Pippen comes out and confirms relationship with Michael Jordan . . . ‘s son

It’s no secret that Michael Jordan was a pretty ruthless competitor in his playing days.  Although he seldom would admit to it, I think it was pretty obvious that winning alone wasn’t enough for MJ, but to demoralize and destroy his opponents in the process.  If the phrasing of owning others existed during his heydays, MJ probably ended his career basically having owned the entire NBA.

However, usually MJ’s ownage was limited to his opponents, most notably Patrick Ewing or any center who played for Georgetown.  It’s not to say he didn’t try to impose his will onto his own teammates present or past, but if there was always one guy that throughout his career was (mostly*) spared from getting owned by His Airness, it would’ve been the right-hand man, the #2, the Robin to Batman, Scottie Pippen.

*there are random clips out there of some exhibition one-on-ones between the two that never seem conclusive nor apparent that either were ever taking it serious enough, but MJ probably won those too

Over the last two years though, whether it was a ploy to help drive up buzz for his autobiography, or perhaps it was sour grapes over some of the narrative in The Last Dance, Scottie Pippen has been vocal and been saying some perceivably controversial things about his relationship with MJ, the Bulls, and his career in general, with not everything particularly positive.  Now Pippen has always struck me as a pretty bitter guy who holds grudges, but he’s always been pretty silent in regards to his relationship with Jordan.  But I guess after nearly two decades from their peak playing days and no real chance for MJ to extract retribution on the court, Pippen has taken the gloves off and has decided to take some swings.

But no problem, MJ doesn’t need a court or even a basketball to remind Pippen who god is.  In fact, MJ doesn’t even need to do anything himself in this case, because his son Marcus is the one doing it, revealing that he’s in a relationship with Scottie’s ex-wife, Larsa. 

Honestly, more than likely this has nothing to do with MJ at all, but by virtue of being the blood of Jordan, he still gets credit for the ownage of Scottie Pippen.  I mean, this is an unprecedented level of ownage here, because it’s not like MJ is the one nailing Scottie’s ex, but his fucking son.  Obviously, Larsa Pippen** is older, but by virtue of being a glorified gold-digging Instagram model, still looks pretty amazing with a plastic body, is still a catch for Marcus Jordan, but it’s a pretty crazy scenario where Scottie Pippen is getting owned by not just Michael Jordan, but MJ’s kid, is the one railing his ex-wife.

**a more passive ownage is the fact that Larsa never dropped the Pippen name, even in divorce, from what I presume is her means to remain tanginally celebrity, but without having to put up with actually being in a relationship with Scottie

Obviously, the chances of MJ himself orchestrating this as a means for punishing Scottie for coming at the king are very slim, so much as it’s happenstance of his son getting involved with a plastic cougar.  But it’s fun to theorize the narrative that it was.  And for a guy like Scottie Pippen, who’s always been kind of a bitch in life; being underpaid for an eon, could never win without MJ, is an infamously shitty tipper, and bitter about everything, it’s just entertaining to see him get owned yet again, but on a level that seems pretty legendary, in the grand scale of ownage.

Any team that wants to move a metric ton of merch needs to sign Steeve Ho You Fat

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

Today o’clock I learned that there is actually a guy on the planet Earth named “Steeve Ho You Fat.”  Normally, I’d criticize the fact that there appeared to be an extra E in “Steve,” but when your family name is somehow, “Ho You Fat,” his first name could’ve been spelled “Steeeeeevuh” and nobody would probably have noticed.

Like, I have no earthly idea how this is even possible.  The first line of defense is that “he’s French,” but obviously a name like Ho You Fat even raises eyebrows in the land of the frogs.  Digging a little deeper, it should seem obvious that French colonization probably had something to do with it, but from what I can glaze over, he’s of mixed descent and somehow has the name Ho You Fat as a family name.

Either way, the fact that he’s a 14-year veteran playing in the NBA G-League, it doesn’t seem likely that he’s ever going to get the call up to the big leagues any time soon. But honestly the fact that this guy’s name is a literal golden ticket to move a metric fuckton of merch in jerseys and shirseys should get this guy onto a roster for any team that wants to bank on his incredibly profitable name.

Seriously, he could easily be the 13th man on any NBA roster, the guy that’s always listed as being on injured reserve, or better yet, be the mascot player that only gets onto the court when the team is either up by 20 or down by 20 in the fourth quarter.  No matter if they’re at home or on the road, the crowd would undoubtedly erupt at the sight of Ho You Fat taking the court, and people in the crowd left and right would be whipping out their phones to check on the legitimacy of his name, and if they haven’t already, they’re purchasing merch with his name on it, or running to the clubhouse store and grabbing Ho You Fat gear off the shelves.

Considering most teams’ seasons are decidedly over by December, there’s absolutely no harm for any of these teams to take a flyer on Ho You Fat and just make a mission of making as much profit through merchandise sales as possible.  If you can’t win on the court, might as well try to win in the bank instead.

The Brilliance of Players

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

I remember when I saw a teaser for Players on Paramount; it became apparent quickly that it was about esports, and shortly afterward, it was evident that it was about League of Legends.  And then the drama about a headcase League player blathering on about how he wants to win something before he retires.

The thing is, based on that alone, I actually thought it was something serious.  It wasn’t until I had already taken the bait and looked up what this show actually was, did I learn that it was a fictional mockumentary, and then I was like ohhhhhhh that explains why anyone would even attempt to talk about being a League of Legends champion, that wasn’t in Korea.

Upon further discovery of the series, and finding out that it was done by the same team that had done the American Vandal mockumentaries, I was sold, because both seasons of that show were brilliant, and colliding two things I enjoyed seemed like a recipe for something I would like.  Even more so when I found out that the format of the series was going to borrow heavily from The Last Dance documentary about the Chicago Bulls, which I also enjoyed immensely.

Needless to say, I was optimistic about the series, and upon finishing it, I think my instincts were pretty good about it.  As a whole, I found Players to be very entertaining, downright hilarious at many points, and having been pretty deep into the League scene at a point in my life, a lot of ohhhhhh moments at reminiscing about the scene in general.

Creamcheese is a brilliant character in the sense that he’s basically every obnoxious stereotype there is about a professional gamer wrapped into a singular package and then have the volume turned up to 11.  He’s no physical specimen, but he acts all hot shit because he plays games at a high level, and is just so unlikeable and obnoxious, but you can’t help but be amused at the avalanche of bullshit he’s just always selling.

The show makes no effort to hide the fact that they are speaking to a very niche audience, primarily League players past and present themselves.  But everyone I’ve pitched the show to, who aren’t even or never weren’t League players who gave it a shot, all seemed to enjoy the show all the same, just because it’s just that well executed.

But the show digs deep with all the references that only really long-time League players would understand, and it really doesn’t shy away from a lot of the behavioral tendencies that have emerged from internet culture and the League scene, from memes, the way that the internet piles on, latches onto jokes and references that become unforgettable no matter how much you try, etc.

But one of the most brilliant things about the show is that it’s not officially sponsored by Riot Games themselves, the developers of the game.  But their involvement in the show is unmistakable, considering almost all of the casters and commentators of the professional scene are all willing participants in the show, reprising their handles and identities.  Regardless, in doing such, Riot kind of takes a lot of the steam behind most criticisms about the game, the scene, the culture, effectively out of the equation based on their general involvement, regardless of how palpable or not.

By owning a lot of the jokes and criticisms, in the show, it takes a lot of the power away from those flinging the stones on the internet, and they’re basically controlling their own narrative of how the League scene really is, by participating in the show and letting it happen the way it does.

But all in all, it’s just a well-executed show.  It’s endlessly entertaining the way utilizes flashbacks in the exact same manner that The Last Dance does, but instead of talking about Michael Jordan and basketball, it’s talking about a bunch of video game geeks and a video game known for its ridiculous fanbase.  But it does so with a tone and seriousness that of a real documentary, and as a whole package, it’s just such an easy show to be snickering and laughing along with.

It almost makes me miss playing the game, and being a part of the scene, but with two kids in the picture, ain’t nobody got any time for any more League these days, so good on Players for coming into existence and helping me remember the good times, and all the time I’m not blowing playing game after game of ARAM.

SPORTS SPORTS SPORTS

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

As much of a sports fan as I am, it’s not often a topic that I really feel that compelled to write about that often these days.  I’m pretty far removed from following anything beyond a casual level, so it really take some pretty interesting things to pique my interest for me to want to write about it.

However, in the span of a weekend, three things happened and I was just kind of like oh shit, that’s something that’s interesting.  And of course they all happened within basically the same weekend, and I was out of town, so it’s not like they were anything I could take note of and/or write about right away, as if I would’ve had any free time to begin with.  But regardless, I figured I’d just make one big dick swinging sports post and knock all three birds with a single stone.

Mavs 123, Suns 90 – keep in mind that this was a game 7 of an NBA Playoff game.  I feel like I make a post about this topic every year, because it seems like every single year there’s at least one tragically embarrassing blowout game in the playoffs, which often makes me beg the question that how are NBA playoff-caliber teams getting eviscerated so badly?

To my understanding, the Mavs were up by over 40 points at one point in the game, and all I could really think that this is mostly the same Phoenix Suns team that went to the finals last year, but here they are getting trounced in the semis, in a game 7 no less, the epitome of the clutch, pivotal, where you make your money pressure cooker game. 

But instead of being a nail-biter, double overtime thriller where two talented teams refuse to budge, we have this embarrassing display of defeatism and the embodiment of giving up, which is a fair metaphor for today’s NBA itself, and the Mavs move on, while the perpetually overrated Suns begin the golf season at around the time they’re used to.

Throwing a no-hitter but still losing – this year’s Cincinnati Reds is an interesting squad.  The franchise commenced to have a fire sale and trade off just about everyone on the squad who would make over the league minimum save for first baseman Joey Votto (who respectfully became an American citizen but probably regrets it if his occupation requires him to stay on the Cincinnati Reds), and they’ve been absolutely dreadful throughout the first month of the year.

I think at one point there were like 4-17, and all I could think about was how two of those paltry four wins, came against the Braves, who aren’t exactly doing a particularly good job of defending their World Series championship in life after Freddie which I’m not still salty about not.

But then they suffer one of the harshest ways to lose a game, in which their starting pitcher literally throws a no-hitter, and they still somehow manage to lose the game.  It’s funny because I remembered the last time this happened, which was a game between the Dodgers and Angels, where the Angels no-hit the Dodgers but still lost the game.  It’s a rare occurrence and the very embodiment of failure, and I don’t think there’s going to be a more futile moment in the season for the Reds than this particular game.

Albert Pujols… pitching – Speaking of the Angels, when they released Albert Pujols in 2021, to me it was a foregone conclusion that he was headed back to the Cardinals.  Sure, it didn’t happen as immediately as I figured it would, but with the DH becoming the norm in 2022, there was absolutely no reason why the Cardinals and Pujols couldn’t reunite for the sad but melancholy but feel-good story of legend returning to where it started to finish out the career, but in the case of Pujols, not on a one-day contract, but as an actual active player.

But as is the case with lots of guys at the twilights of their careers, Pujols is definitely in it to have fun above all else.  And what better way to unwind and have some fun in a game where the Cardinals were already up by nearly 20 runs, than to take the mound himself and let everyone enjoy the fun of position player pitching?

And of course, it was as entertaining as the joy of position player pitching typically is.  Pujols was all smiles and laughter, and even the San Francisco Giants became tolerable as they took enjoyment of the situation.  The funny thing is that if this were 10-14 years earlier, I would’ve expected Pujols to pitch like Pedro because why wouldn’t the greatest player of a generation know how to pitch as well?  But instead, we have old Pujols, lobbing 55 mph lollipops, and just trying to get hitters to get themselves out; and naturally he gives up four runs in the process, but at this point who really cares?

The once demi-god was clearly having a great time, humbly getting knocked around, and the Cardinals still won the game, so no skin off anyone’s backs there.  And for a single half-inning, I think everyone could agree that baseball was never more fun than watching Albert Pujols pitching.

Good riddance, Coach K

~ dannyhong ~ Leave a comment

North Carolina 81, Duke 77 F

There comes times when successful sports people call it quits, that people tend to come out of the woodwork to shower them with praise, or just show a whole lot of respect and grace, regardless of if they were a teammate, rival, competition or adversary.

When David Ortiz was on his retirement tour, the New York Yankees and their fans gave him a lot of respect, standing ovations showed a lot of grace.  When Derek Jeter was in his final games, the Boston Red Sox reciprocated and showed a lot of respect to the Captain on his way out.  Michael Jordan was celebrated in every city on his way out, and the list goes on for notable figures who were shown a lot of respect at the ends of their career.

But as far as Coach K goes, fuck the grace and dignity.  Good riddance to this sniveling little troll that is basically the most reviled guy in the history of men’s college basketball.  As a fan of college basketball, I for one am ecstatic that Coach K fell short of getting to go out a winner, and once again, collapsed and lost in what should’ve been one of the grandest highlights on his way out.

In fact, to some capacity, this really has been one of the best years of college basketball in my life, because Virginia Tech won the ACC Championship AKA the National Championship A, and Coach K choked in three different games which should’ve been the coup de graces on his retirement tour:

  • Lost to North Carolina in his final home game at Cameron Indoor Stadium
  • Lost to Virginia Tech in the ACC Championship/Natty A game
  • Lost to North Carolina in his final game ever, in the Final Four

And the way he lost in all of these, as a legitimate contender for success, only to fall short repeatedly, it’s the perfect way to see Coach K ride off into the sunset.  I’ll be the first to admit that I was a little worried that Duke really was going to ride some wave of do it for Coach all the way to the National Championship-B, seeing as how they managed to not suffer their typical chokejob to some non-conference opponent, but the narrative of the journey couldn’t have been written any better if it were done by Vince Russo.

Of course, it had to be North Carolina who sent Coach K packing, and of course, it had to be in their first-ever meeting in the Final Four.  Of course this had to be the rubber match of the season.

And I let out a sigh of relief that North Carolina did their job and actually put Coach K down for good.  I had a bad feeling of sports pessimism that Duke was going to get their retribution, and ride that momentum into the Natty B and actually win, and let Coach K retire as a champion, the ultimate baller way to leave a career.  A way that should really only be reserved for true good guys in sport, like David Robinson, John Elway and Peyton Manning.  Had Duke overcome North Carolina and won a Natty B, that would have exorcised all of their failures of the season previously, and Dook Nation would have been even more insufferable, if that’s even possible.

But thankfully, the good guys won in the end.  Frankly, once this game had passed, nobody will even give a shit about the actual Natty B game.  Shit, I had no clue to whom Kansas was even playing, it’s that irrelevant compared to the other side of the bracket.

Good riddance, Coach K.   And for as much dislike I have for his career, it’s because he was a good coach. It’s just he looked like a little troll goblin and always recruited obnoxious players whom his obnoxious school would make into hateable douchebags, but I digress.  I’m not supposed to be giving this sniveling goblin any respect on the way out.