10 May, 2008

Whither Birdie?

Given that this has become an all-purpose, industrial strength blog (Seriously, it just happened. Right now. You are witnessing history. If I were you, I would never wash my mouse hand again. Unless you've been surfing naughty sites before this. In which case washing it might not be that bad of an idea.), I have no choice but to bring up what can only be cited as a travesty.

Andy Gray from SI.com recently posted his top 5 Celtics of all time. Being a Bostonian and a huge Celtics fan right up to the the time the NBA began its slow spiral of death, I am greatly offended by his list, which goes as follows:

1. Tommy Heinsohn
2. Reggie Lewis
3. Paul Pierce
4. The Chief
5. Bill Russell

Do I really need to ask? OK, I will. Where's Birdie? You know, the greatest Celtic - and the greatest player (sorry, MJ, but nobody was like Birdie) - of all time? Not to mention the guy who gave hope to every slow white guy in history? And that was one of the great things about Bird - aside from the sheer fact he was freakin' awesome. He couldn't run, couldn't jump, wore ridiculous, Jessica Simpson-style short shorts (The shorts, not Jessica Simpson. She's quite fetching.) and had a classic, white guy porn mustache. But he was also the cockiest SOB in the league and could flat out play.


C'mon, man! He was on your cover for Christ Sake! See, right where it calls him a "legend"? You dick.

Nobody played like Bird. Nobody could control the game like he could, even if he didn't score a single point. (OK, Magic could, but that doesn't count because he played for LA, which as we all know, is a vile, vile city.)

Bill Russell, the Chief and Tommy Heinsohn I can understand. But Reggie Lewis and Paul Pierce? C'mon. Reggie wasn't even that great of a player, his tragic end notwithstanding. And sorry to all of you current fans out there, but Paul Pierce is just a punk. Oh, and have I mentioned that the NBA just completely sucks right now? Not that I really mind the poetic display of ballet-like artistry that was this past Tuesday's 76-72 pukefest between the Celts and the Cavs. I mean, who really wouldn't want to watch a 2-hour clang-a-thon in which, apparently, neither team could hit water if they fell out of a fuckin' boat?*

Mr. Gray may be a fine writer (I'm only assuming this because he writes for SI, which is populated by fine writers. He may, in fact, be a surprisingly crappy writer. After his latest post, is something I'm leaning more towards this conclusion.), but as the song goes, he don't know diddly.

I'll take Larry Joe and his French Lick porn look any day. In fact, I'm wearing my short shorts now in tribute. They feel kind of funny.

* Shamelessly taken from the Movie Bull Durham. I'm sure they won't mind.

Peter Davis has a very large collection of short shorts, creepy mustaches and, apparently, vile hatred for all mankind. Who knew? He also writes a blog. You can find it here. What, you're already here? Crap.