Tuesday, November 23, 2004

Artest, Artest, Where For Art Thou, Artest?

Wassup, Y'all!

The hard foul has been laid, the face has been pushed, the cup has been thrown, the fans have been beat down and the suspensions have been levied. Now all that's left is for old Tyrone to do is help you make sense of the Motown Mow Down, the Detroit Droppin', the Pacer Pound Down, the...man, y'all get the idea.

First (and on point) - Ron Artest - Shut up and stop crying. You did the crime, now thug up and do the time (and eat the fine). Homey, when the phrase "worst brawl in NBA history" is attached to your deal, you have to figure you're going to end up with the "worst suspension in NBA history". Cuz, look on the bright side - you've made NBA history twice in a week. That's got to be worth something. Get you a slick little T-shirt concept and market that bad boy during your down time. Maa' fact - those joints might come in handy as extra income generators during your upcoming rap album tour. Just look at how much time you'll have on your hands to to promote that bad boy? Is that convenient or what. You were just asking for a little time off to attend to that stuff anyway. The Lord works in mysterious ways don't he?

Now I understand that losing $5 million from your fat stack is going to sting a little bit but see, that's where that whole T-shirt gimmick can work for you. Think about it, homey. You could design you something fancy like a white crew-neck T with the words "Beer Attack" on the front and a picture on the back of a beat up face (one eye swolle, hickey on his forehead, two missing teeth) wearing a cockeyed Piston's hat and the words "Will Get Yo Face Smacked" underneath. Awww yeah - that joint would be simple and understated. The ultimate in urban elegance. Who wouldn't want one of those bad boys? Save one for me, y'all!

Now let's look at the story inside the story, y'all. First, old Tyrone is going to have to agree with one school of thought that says the quality of fundamental play in the NBA has been declining for years. To wit - our shabby showing in the 2004 Summer Games. It's been a long time coming and now it's finally here, y'all. The end of American basketball dominance. And how sad is that? We invented the game! Check my August 16th column for my initial gripe about this sad state of affairs. So now we have immature, unsound players (aka high schoolers) rolling into the league. A bunch of shake and bake, freestyle freelancers who never met a dribble they wanted to give up or a ball they wanted to pass. It's a trifling world full of players who prefer to skip practice and just show up for games and skip the regular season and just show up for the playoffs. Shame, shame. Now mix this madness with an equal part of pervasive hip-hop culture that attracts young black men like a Victoria's Secret video shoot (the Tyra collection) and you can see where this chest thumping madness is coming from. To wit Diddy's champagne bottle greeting, Shyne's shootout on Diddy's (and J Lo's) behalf, the still unsolved 2Pak and Biggie whackings (which deserves it's own column), Fiddy's 9 slugs and the latest highlight on the police blotter, Young Buck's attempted murder arrest for slipping a knife in during the Vibe brawl. These are the new role models for the NBA crew. The real question is why this type of brawl didn't happen sooner. Now we have fools flexin' and willing to protect their rep at any cost. It's Thug Life NBA style y'all. Please. You better nip this one - D. Stern or NBA will stand for NoBody Attending. We can just watch it all unfold in a rap video - at least those bad boys have video hootchies rocking it owwwwttttt!

My Shorty of the Week again goes to that fine multicultural shorty Rosario Dawson who's dropping in Oliver Stone's Alexander this week. Rosario remains atop my all time finest jail birds list (sorry - Martha didn't make the cut again this year, y'all).



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