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Randy Boyd’s newest novel is
The Devil Inside,
a suspense thriller Q Syndicate calls “a wild ride and highly
satisfying roller coaster read.” Big Balls All Around
By Randy Boyd Well, that was easy. Game. Set. Match. Dynasty. Beginning next year, if the NBA on ABC and ESPN wants to have better ratings than the Gilmore Girls, David Stern better find a way to give Phil, Shaq and Kobe some real competition. Yes, fans love to hate a dynasty, but the road to supreme domination has also got to be interesting and full of legitimate hurdles. And sweeps of teams wearing puke-gray unis are not interesting. So we move right past LA’s four-game scrimmage vs. Jersey and onto Ballin’s 2002 NBA Big Balls Awards. The Bill Buckner Ultimate Boink Award: To the Sacramento Kings, one helluva exciting team capable of fits of greatness and moments of sheer stupidity. Here’s a tip for the off-season: visualize making free throws. The Reggie Miller Act-a-Like Award: To Robert Horry of the Lakers, who, with ice in his veins, sank some clutch threes (one with an assist from Vlade Divac) and broke more hearts than Anna Nicole Smith at a retirement home. The Reggie Miller Act-a-Like Award, Part Deux: To Indiana’s Reggie Miller himself, for being the only person to get under Kobe’s skin and cause the Laker superstar to obey his fists, not his thirst, just seconds after the end of meaningless mid-season game at Staples Center. The Jenny Jones Makeover Award: To Rick Fox of the Lakers, who rebounded from last year’s “appearance hell” and realized that even though Coach Jackson wants him to be the champions’ Dennis Rodman-style enforcer, that doesn’t mean looking like a cross between Grizzly Adams and Keith Richards. The Albert Einstein GQ Award: To Nets coach Bryon Scott, who not only looked pretty damned good as a coach, but who also looked pretty damned good while coaching. The Halle Berry and Denzel Washington Award: To Steve Nash and Dirk Nowitski of Dallas, who double-handedly have given little white boys all over the world hope that someday they too can grow up and compete against the best in their field and receive recognition as true, all-out ballers. The Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, Don’t Slam Dunk On Me Too Hard Award: To the NBA players, who have managed to stay above and out of the fracas when it comes to the gay pro athlete debate. No smoking guns here, so to speak. No Mike Piazzas or Troy Aikmans or anyone insinuating anything about anyone doing whatever. Unless you count things like Bill Walton saying (in the Western Conference finals), “the Lakers are going to ride Shaquille until they can’t get enough.” The How Un-American Award: To the NBA in general, for its star system that says certain superstars play and are judged by different rules than the Tony Delks of the world, that Shaquille O’Neal should be officiated differently than Jermaine O’Neal. If you’re running an entertainment empire (Broadway, WWF, Must See TV), sure it makes sense to give your A-list talent special treatment designed to highlight their acts. But we thought this was supposed to be sports, the most leveling of all all-American playing fields. Is it fair competition if Kobe can’t foul out at the end of a crucial game? Is it justice for all if Karl Malone gets calls that Aaron Williams doesn’t? (What the hell is traveling anymore?) What does all this rule-bending teach kids (and adults) about life? That only the special get special deals? That, from the luxury boxes and club seats to Jordan Rules, life is about exclusivity and preferential treatment—if you happen to make it to the inner circle? Wise up, NBA. Show you have some real balls. More Randy, more sports: Under the Bleachers at straightacting.com. Randy's Outsports archive May 29, 2002 |