Dunk? What Dunk?

By now, I’m sure you’ve all heard of how Xavier’s Jordan Crawford posterized LeBron James during a pickup game at the LeBron James Skills Academy. You’ve probably also heard about how LeBron had Nike officials that immediately confiscated all video evidence of the two-handed throw down. Luckily there were a few renegade videographers in the crowd that captured Crawford’s big moment (video below)

A long-time and frequent camp attendee and pickup game player, Dark Side has performed many similar jaw-dropping feats, only to see the video evidence mysteriously disappear. Unfortunately, video phones were non-existent and camcorders were not nearly as common when Dark Side was in his prime. I am nonetheless hopeful that someone managed to capture one of my many posterizations and am offering a reward (I don’t know let’s say a billion dollars) for anyone who can produce authentic, bona fide video footage of Dark Side:

• Throwing down a double-clutch dunk over Shaquille O’neal;
• Picking off Payton Manning and juking Deion Sanders before taking it to the house;
• Putting Roger Clemmens fastball into the upper deck;
• Dusting Carl Lewis by ten meters in a 100-meter footrace;
• Breaking Gary Payton’s ankles with the patented Dark Side crossover;
• Breaking Lennox Lewis’s jaw with a haymaker;
• Beating Lance Armstrong by five bicycle lengths;
• Striking out Barry Bonds on three straight outside fastballs;
• Bull-rushing and knocking Orlando Pace on his ass; or
• Fly-swatting Vince Carter’s attempted dunk.

Please send a Betamax copy of the video to:
Dark Side
c/o Santa Claus
North Pole

Until then, I’ll have to live vicariously through Jordan Crawford:

Buckle Up Los Angeles

Ron Artest made his Hollywood arrival official last week, signing a three-to-five-year deal with the Los Angeles Lakers, and Dark Side is, well, conflicted. You might think that as a long-time Lakers fan I would be elated by the apparent Ariza-upgrade at small forward. A quick review of last year’s stats suggests that Artest is a much stronger player with stats more desirable than Ariza’s in nearly every category, age being the only significant exception. There are so many Ron-Ron intangibles, however, that just don’t show up in a stat sheet – including fourteen kinds of crazy. But don’t get Dark Side wrong; it’s not that I don’t like crazy. In fact, I love it. It’s just complicated. And it is my long complicated relationship with crazy that keeps me from jumping on the Artest welcome wagon.

Most people have an aversion to crazy. They see crazy walking down the street and they cross over to the other side. I cross the street as well, only I cross the street to get closer look. I do this knowing full well that it’s probably a bad idea. I know that crazy could mug me, throw up on me, or perhaps cause me to wince as I catch the foul smell of urine mixing with day-old whiskey that often accompanies crazy’s lack of emphasis on hygiene. But crazy might also do something incredible, like run through a glass window, have a shouting match with a squirrel, or jump a scorer’s table, run into a crowd of fans, and start beating one lucky ticket-holder mercilessly. And when crazy starts doing its thing, I don’t want to miss it.

This unusual attraction to crazy first revealed itself in high school, when crazy helped keep the general boredom of small-town life at bay. After courting crazy, dating crazy, and engaging in a number of on-again-off-again love affairs with crazy, I eventually decided to settle down and move in with crazy. And that’s when my relationship with crazy began to change. With the daily and constant exposure to crazy, my affection began to wane. Crazy’s propensity for random acts of madness were cute in the beginning, but eventually the drunken slaps, drinks in the face, turbulent sobbing fits, and frequent public embarrassment started to wear on me. Sometime after intermittent crazy becomes persistent ceaseless Jesus-just-kill-me-so-it-will-stop crazy, a more consistent drama-free life starts looking pretty good. I still loved crazy; I just couldn’t live with it.

In the years following my life with crazy, I knew that leaving it behind had been the right decision. When I would go out for a drink with friends and the night wouldn’t end with a staggering red-faced woman screaming at me in the middle of a crowded bar, I would usually breathe a sigh of relief. Every once in a while, however, I would hope for a little crazy. Maybe I would whisper a backhanded compliment into the ear of my date as I slipped her jacket over her shoulders, hoping for her to turn and throw something at me, or maybe slap me before running out in tears. She never would; she was not, after all, crazy. That’s why I was with her. Feeling like a complete dick, I would apologize and my need for crazy would go unfulfilled.

It was a difficult spot to be in. I knew I woudn’t survive constant crazy again, but I needed a fix. I eventually learned to manage my jonesing by picking up small doses of crazy vicariously. When friends would tell me about their relationships with crazy, I would listen attentively, imagining myself in their shoes and remembering my time with crazy. This was my crazy Methadone.

“She shaved your cat? Why would she do that?”

The frustrated narratives would allow me to conjure up and appreciate my time with crazy. And when I returned home to my non-shaved cat, I was able to appreciate that my time with crazy was over. It was in a similar distanced manner that I became a fan of Ron Artest.

Ron Artest started gifting crazy almost as soon as he was drafted in 1999. Whether it was applying for a job at Circuit City to get an employee discount, showing up to practice in a bath robe, or frequent suspensions, Ron was a continuous source of entertainment for anybody not cheering for his team. For fans of his club, of course, he was an endless source of embarrassment. His central role in the most infamous brawl in sports history established Ron as an NBA pariah. It also earned my unconditional adulation. How could I not love an unpredictable maniac who could turn a meaningless regular season blowout into a parade of insanity and who I also didn’t have to sleep next to at night? It was the perfect relationship. Ron went crazy, I reminisced, and at the end of the game, he took his crazy ass back to Chicago, Indianapolis, Sacramento, Houston, or any other city that wasn’t Los Angeles. He was your crazy and I loved him for it. But when Ron slipped on the Purple and Gold last week, he stopped being your crazy and started being my crazy, standing in the front door, waiting for me with a tall glass of scotch in one hand and a tazer in the other and wanting to know where I’ve been all night. So please excuse my muffled hoorah; I’m hoping not to wake crazy. When she gets a full night’s sleep, she tends to bite less.

Lebron. Have you seen my four championship rings?

The tremors, chills, and stomach cramps are already starting for Dark Side, who can’t believe he has to wait until Thursday night for the NBA Finals to start.  Dark Side’s already begun looking for methadone clinics and AAU leagues to help ween himself off the junk after the the playoffs conclude.  In the mean time, Dark Side offers his NBA Finals predictions:

1. Andrew Bynum fouls out of every game trying to contain Dwight Howard.

2. When Gasol slides down to take Bynum’s place, Howard’s speed, strength and physical post play demands frequent double-teams.  The Magic continue to effectively work the inside-outside game, keeping them in every game of the series.

3. Gasol does his best to pull Howard away from the rim by posting at and looking to pass and shoot from the elbow.  Howard erases Gasol’s inside game.

4. Trevor Ariza’s defense causes people to forget Turkoglu plays for the Magic.

5. Fisher continues to struggle, leading to more minutes for Shannon Brown.

6. Odom’s strength advantage over Lewis shows up on the boards.  Lewis, who pulls Common out to the arc to defend against the triple, attacks the rim more than usual, leading to a healthy number of Dwight Howard dunks.

7. Dwight Howard finally hits the gym and starts working on his shoulders.

8. Sasha Vujacic continues to struggle shooting from anywhere but the corner, but succeeds at being an annoying pest on defense and in life.

9. Kobe is Kobe-esque.

10. Luke Walton attempts, and occasionally succeeds at keeping himself between the player he is defending and the rim.  He continues to look semi-retarded on offense, frequently dribbling the ball off his foot and laying bricks from twelve feet.  He gets no respect when he drives as defenders actually point and laugh at him.  For every five turnovers, he gets an assist from a well-placed entry pass.

11. Ron Artest does something crazy*

Lakers in seven.

*though admittedly not in association with a team participating in the NBA finals.

In the meantime, Dark Side requests that all athletes be on their best behavior.  We would hate for their naughtiness to go undocumented.  In the alternative, Dark Side recommends his readers watch lots of NBA playoff games.  There’s plenty of athletes behaving badly in those things.

The Lakers-Rockets game last night was chock full of random acts of violence.  Dark Side gives especially high marks to Derrick Fisher’s body check on Scola .  Dark Side also thought Kobe’s elbow to Ron Artest was interesting, if only for the stones it takes to elbow Ron Artest.  Have you not seen Artest’s work?  The elbow was the only time Kobe’s aim was off the whole 40-dropping night - Artest’s head was a good eight or nine inches above where Kobe got him.  And let’s face it, if you’re actually going to elbow Artest, you better make it count.

The Ron Artest we know and love

For more: Sports Illustrated

For more: ESPN | Fox Sports

For more: Sports Illustrated

For more: ESPN

For more: ESPN

For more: ESPN