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B. Marshall Smith

B. Marshall Smith was born and raised 30 minutes west of Boston bleeding the 12 bar blues since birth in non confirmed alleyways for days.

A jazz enthusiast, from Miles and Cannonball to Monk and the Bird, I have a strong passion or all things considered Red Sox, Celtics and College Football and the power of the word, though relishing truth, justice and sincerity above all else. Connection is the direction.

Currently, covering high school sports as an addendum to my elementary education position. Alias Seymour Grime currently reading all books assigned in high school before life experience had caught up with intelligence. "I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now."

Happily married with two healthy children, I can be reached at This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it




HIGH VOLTAGE INTERSECTION AMONG THE BLUE AND RED
Written by B. Marshall Smith    Friday, 03 September 2010 11:26    PDF Print E-mail
B. Marshall Smith

 

This is not an Affliction, though there is plenty of discord steaming in a bright venue filled with intricate story lines. Borrowing the bright lights Broadway approach from wrestling, the UFC, or the MMA (mixed martial arts) is making a killing and nearly swallowing countries in the process! More than just up and coming, the sport is considered "the sport" of the future, yet still somehow resembling and drawing from the ancient coliseum. Finish him! What a conundrum...

 

With ticket prices ranging from $75 to $600 Saturday night, big boss man, Dana White, the current president since 2001, took a 3 million dollar gate this past Saturday in Boston. Only recently legalized by the Commonwealth, the UFC and White made their first legitimate business trip to Massachusetts, warming up the chowdah-heads with an expo at Hynes Convention Center prior to the Saturday night pay-per-view event. It was a meet and greet with the fighters signing autographs and taking pictures with the fans. It all went so smooth some would call it a smash.

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The night of the fight, Tom Brady was there sporting a hat similar to Tiger's with only the letters "TB" on the brim. The Dropkick Murphys were there. Big Baby received playful elbow smashes and head rubs from his mighty, Shaq Daddy Diesel, who has seen upwards of 20 UFC fight nights and was seated remotely ring-side, which is concerning on a multitude of levels...isn't Davis a new father?

 

James, "Light's Out" Toney, the first boxer to cross lines into the MMA was the initial personal draw (what can't be marketed!) pitted against beloved, "Captain America", Randy Couture, who incidentally is 47 years of age and reportedly a master strategist. The combatants went back and forth all week in the press, Toney claiming he would knock out the three-time former heavyweight champion and a two-time light-heavyweight champion, Couture with one mighty blow.

 

More than one journalistic rat nibbling for cheese stated they thought he called Couture a sissy, but it's so hard to tell in a crowd (when and if you hear!). James Toney, Captain Mumble.

 

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This was my first venture of any kind into this type of fight club to be so intrigued! Like a lure to a fish! Three grown men at an old friend's without so much as a door charge, the fight allegedly free, though with him, who knows, being some kinda pirate of the telecommunications world himself!

 

My younger brother drove in from Jersey (actual home-base Arizona) and was in for the weekend. Everything seemed to fit. Stella Artois and pizza for delivery...on the house!

 

To experience such a spectacle as what I experienced Saturday night; all things considered! Fans in fits of frenzy. Athletes with the forms of Da Vinci. Hype and hoopla...it was fitting my first UFC event was held in Boston with so much of the hometown touch. I was learning so much and many more key terms: the guillotine choke. Dirty boxing. A back mount? Let me get my pen and paper...

 

Friends, who could say how many times White, with a part-time background in South Boston, or, Southie as they like to say, marketed his version of the octagon, in all it's music and pageantry, but his skill and savvy has finally paid off building an Empire estimated at over 1 billion. A fierce Sox fan, White is reportedly fascinated by how violent and crazy religion appears to be. Do you see what I see?

 

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The complete opposite of "Light's Out" Toney, who was brutally mauled at 3:19 of round number one and didn't see a thing. There was no mystique; no toe to toe. Toney went down with a thud and finally submitted to a one arm triangle choke...but not before taking a beating...including several haymakers to the grill. The lights were out. James Toney, a renowned trash talker, never threw a single punch, or at least one of consequence and reportedly made a cool million to show up fat and get pummeled by a fired up Couture, representing the entire UFC, with a legion of fans clearly in his corner.

 

Last Saturday evening featured those same 15,575 lunatics looking for blood, which was present early and often, who rode a high energy wave buffered by the dramatic sounds and songs of ring announcer Bruce Buffer, who was more than a bit boisterous.

 

The main event featured Frankie Edgar, the lightweight champion and BJ Penn, who you may remember as the 3-foot-jump-out-of-the-pool-guy, which, IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN, IS PRETTY AMAZING! Our host at the house, a particular expert, recommended You-tube for a closer inspection.

 

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Penn had just lost his title to Edgar this April at Yas Island, Abu Dhabi, UFC 112 and vowed to come back...better....prepared. Some of those same self-fed rats claimed the victory had been a fluke and there was no way that Edgar could do it again. Penn is, come to find out, one of the more influential and accomplished fighters in the MMA History and went a record 8 years without a single defeat...yet it was Frankie Edgar with the stick and move all Saturday night, ultimately chopping Penn down like a tree, dominating each of the 5 rounds. Picture floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee. Lawd have mercy!

 

The evening, fittingly for my ripe cherry, featured a slew of the hometown spice and flavor. A feeling much like the place where everyone knows your name.

 

Where does one sign on the dotted line to jump on the bandwagon? Completely caught up in a whirlwind of nostalgia, I was at a loss for information and sought it from both my dear companions. This process was informative but hurried and rushed. In addition, ancient stories were re-told among old friends going three decades back incited riotous giggles and further gory details. Better yet, the pizzas were on the way, confirmed online.

 

It was time for the next fight. The host, forever utilizing "the last channel button", flipped on the Sox, who incidentally blew another lead only to lose in extra innings to the Rays effectively saying goodnight on the season, in between fights, which were numerous numbering about 8 or 9 (the unemotionally-attached may justifiably claim, at least this season, the Sox have overachieved but there is still disappointment...).

 

Back at the ranch at the precise time, in the excitement of the actual pizza delivery, the host needed help with the remote and was put on a probationary "watch". No more commercials...let it be advertised! We demand continuous updates updates.

 

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Where would I begin? These gladiator style matches featured strategy and counter-attacks. All the warriors took it with relish on the chin, the abdomen, and everywhere except the eyes. There is no gouging but there is fancy strikes to the thigh. It wouldn't be worth it for anyone less skilled to try...these boys are no joke...you could lose more than an eye! Then there were a few pitiful punching bag scenarios, with a guy completely teeing off that turned me off. Left with nothing but distaste like the second time for meatballs as I thought, who needs to see that! And yet I came back for more...there was still pizza left.

 

The evening's hometown hero and Dover native, Kenny Florian, could never quite mount an attack against the burly Gray Maynard, who remains undefeated and set up for a shot at the title. Florian admitted he was disappointed with the lack of performance but does not appear discouraged.

 

"I need to go back. Work on the ground game and the wrestling aspects and tactics. It is currently my lone weakness. Standing toe to toe, executing take downs, avoiding tap outs or the submission, I always felt within striking distance."

 

O really? Our particular audience didn't seem to agree. Both parties, apparent junkies, entirely knowledgeable, the host owning autograph cards of the ring girls and the cut man, thought different.

 

"Whaaaaaaaaaat's he doing?"

 

"He's getting man-handled!"

 

Not Bridgewater's Joe Lauzon though. In the evening's lightweight bout, he destroyed Gabe Ruediger at 2:01 of the first round, earning a sweet $60 grand for the "submission of the night", a tap out with an arm bar after horse handling Ruediger the entire one hundred and twenty one seconds.

 

Lauzon was beaming in response to the energy put out by the Boston faithful.

 

"You guys are nuts out there. Your energy took me to another level tonight."

 

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All those in our party of three, even the ever ignorant virgin, would most certainly agree.

If you don't know, someone much like me before last Saturday, the UFC, is an all encompassing form of combat featuring multiple disciplines of martial arts and wrestling until the fighter tap out and is looking to expand territory and appeal. Next stop....Asia! Saturday night in Boston with what I witnessed seemingly didn't seem to hurt.

 

Last Updated ( Friday, 03 September 2010 11:31 )
 
READYING FOR THE HARVEST
Written by B. Marshall Smith    Sunday, 29 August 2010 22:34    PDF Print E-mail
B. Marshall Smith

 

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Though the rules are being reinvented as we speak, to be sure, Autumn is considered September, October and November in the Northern Hemisphere, and March, April and May in the Southern, if you're keeping score? It has somehow come to be the time of the year when the arrival of night comes noticeably earlier; the pageants forever forward in march, but none of this is calculated from a purely astronomical perspective...

 

Up in the mornin' and out to school. The teacher is teachin' the golden rule . Everything is shiny and new, but teacher, don't you fill me up with your rule! Smoking aint allowed ANYWHERE, I'll not be played the fool. Like deciphering the unfamiliar word at the tiny tip of the tongue. No bother, a student must remain alert. Here's to learners, even if they ain't so young!

 

Begin and end with consonants. Finish school related projects. Start with new Velcro snap backpacks. Commence transition from Summer into Winter sharing ideas at the fountain of knowledge with lots of different learners. Begin alienation process. Bus bullies. Book fairs and pizza on Fridays. Classmates joined forever at the hip, learning to develop brand new voices along a multitude of paths.

 

At this time, the stay-at-home parent rejoices! It's the...MOST... wonderful...time...of...the yeeeeeeear!

 

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The MLB Playoffs and it's picture grows clearer for richer or poorer. Your affinities for a team have been studyin' so hard and hopin' to pass. With the right ingredients, the sky's the limit, turning mirrors into windows without high risk, plus that strong return on reward!

It all happens so fast. Seasons change. Most everyone grows old. It pays to do your homework and gain insight into the line between black and white. This makes anyone less uptight as it is a marathon and not a sprint for lack of one single step.

 

Learning ken be fun but the insanity of the first day of school is on a high-rise of levels. Summer fun fades to distant recollections as the foliage of Fall...only to slip and slide away! Parents begin to unpack sweatshirts and hats, boots and mittens, readying for the worst Mother Nature has to offer, as the boys of summer continue to play.

 

This is by no means the house of detention, but a new season in the scheme of life. Stop and take stock, even with the dark storm clouds of NFL and NBA lockouts looming. Sow ye rosebuds whilst ye may! This entire process, like water heading to the sea, brings a feast of newfound friends, on a vicious whirlwind cycle with scores of cameos from complete characters that slowly begin to fade. Akin to shiny red apples for the teacher long since rotted. 123's and ABC's. Job security in the learning process means theres always students in need of a teacher and vice versa.

 

It's about time we got wise. Prostrate to a profession? Come empty. Leave open...nothing is important in a classroom if numbers needn't be learned. Spend time counting, begin at the beginning, keeping progress in proper sequence. This will help with the score...

 

Ring ring goes that bell. It's not hard to tell who's a Beary Good Worker. Happy New School Year! Any pertinent material will go in the appropriate file for any eligible gold stars. Athletes get clauses and cars, but try to smile and have fun. Master a craft within the appropriate perimeter. Let's minimize interruption. Ask questions and please take a stand. Understand, everything is to be neat and tidy. We've certainly made a mess of this apparent mockery!

 

As there are rules, if you behave, there is football Saturday, Sunday, Monday and sometimes Thursday and Friday all across the country! The appropriate parties, deemed responsible, will be notified in advance.

 

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The hall bulletin is in the hall. This will provide news, notes and scores. Roster amendments, transactions and worse! If you get yourselves into groups to discuss shapes and focus on classifications, know we're in trouble! Instead try to develop those savory skills and a solid sense of self. Keep your sneakers clean. Stay on the scene.

 

Experience and education are often mistook for the other...

 

The Harvest is meant to be imparted. Never sporadic. All well within due process. For what is left of the NBA? The revamped Heat, featuring their own version of Cream, now consists of trio, Dwyane Wade, Chris Bosh and LeBron James, who will open the NBA season against the Boston Celtics Oct. 26, on a nationally televised clash, cite TNT.

 

As compared to the proud processional that is this New England Fall, which changes vestments royal in ceremony like a full moon harvest festival, trust I'll stay till my seeds all dry up.

The chill of winter is on the horizon. Skies will turn grey, and people, inward. Let's not beat around the bush. Tell the tourists what they want to hear. There is a gladness for the fruits of the Earth mixed with a certain melancholy linked to the imminent arrival of Old Man Winter. Layers are often required in compensation as it does tend to grow cold. You do what you are and become what you do.

 

The NHL is getting old! This season, which will be the 93rd, hockey starts on October 7, 2010! It will be the fourth consecutive season that will open in Europe and a record, three events are scheduled with tons of hoopla built in!

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Some will say, to be cool, know-how comes down to size. Weight and measurement, but check your World History. Read between the lines. You're sure to use practical math. This could be, yet another, rags to riches story and your involvement in the learning process is critical, crucial and potentially mandatory.

 

I don't like Mondays, though I have to admit it's getting better, it's getting better all the time. Money can't buy love, happiness or an education and these are the class rules, which are tools for workin' your fingers right down to the bone.

 

Subtract to add, creating patterns, which would be, in your estimation? Positive or negative? Have a bad neighbor? Well, now you ken throw in the fact, the one who lives next to you won't leave you alone, otherwise, you're well on the way toward success.

 

 

This change in seasons has little to do with a well fed female adorned with fruits but remains a classic nonetheless. For every reason...turn...turn...turn. Show solidarity in your efforts. If all else fails, blame it on the school district.

 

Last Updated ( Sunday, 29 August 2010 22:37 )
 
THE FLAVOR OF WAIVERS
Written by B. Marshall Smith    Thursday, 26 August 2010 17:15    PDF Print E-mail
B. Marshall Smith

 

 

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Voluntary relinquishment is a surrender in a sense of sorts. A known right or privilege has been betrayed. Let's waive all formalities. To refrain from claiming is to forgo, which, as you know, would be negligent. There is less to be alarmed about than you think.

There are all kinds of waivers for as many different occasions. Raise a toast in praise of new scenery. Time has a way of making changes.

Transactions made to the roster of a major league team during or after the season includes any player under contract that may be placed on waivers at any time without rhyme or reason. Time after time this is the flavor of waivers season after season.

 

Ice cream is also an American past time and offered for sale in various confections. Ice and milk concoctions. Available in a broad spectrum of flavors, bomb pops and the latest crazes, drop by your nearest shop for some intense refreshment.

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If a player is waived, any team may claim it. If more than one team claims the player from waivers, the team with the weakest record in the product's league gets preference. If no team in the product's league claims it, the claiming team with the weakest record in the other league gets preference. Product preference is determined using the previous year's standings in the first month of baseball in any new season.

 

If a team claims a player off waivers, the current team, the "waiving team", may choose one of the following options: arrange a trade with the claiming team within two business days of said claim; or rescind the request, effectively canceling the waiver; or do nothing but dump and retrieve, leading the claiming team to believe and assume all future responsibilities, paying the waiving team a fee to place the player on its active roster and be washed of any further doings.

 

 

 

Scott Boras is your ice cream man, stop him when you're passing by.

 

 

Shop. Sell and buy. If a player is claimed and the waiving team exercises rescission, which is a hop, skip and a jump from rocking the boat, the waiving team may not use that option again in the same season. Effectively shutting the door on future entertainment. No more monkey business.

 

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"At times you have provided, left something of your youth, performed more than injured, now get lost, Sour Grape!"

 

 

If no team claims the player from waivers in three business days, it's all over....baby blue. Into the icebox! Condemned to freezer burn and a spot start in the UFC.

 

 

Return to sender. This no welcome zone.

 

 

The player has cleared waivers and may be assigned to a minor league team, traded, or released outright as expired product. Say goodbye to the scenery and anyone else you knew.

 

The waiver "wire" is a secret flavor within the circles of Major League Baseball clubs; no announcement of a new player waiver is made until a transaction actually occurs. Then both parties would chat on wooden benches enjoying the sinking summer sun with a sugar cone a piece.

 

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Many players are waived discreetly during the August "waiver-required" trading period to gauge interest. If a trade can't be worked out, the waiving team will rescind the waiver to avoid losing quality product to what may amount to the local mafioso.

 

Each team maintains a 25 and 40 card roster. The 40 card roster allows for the broken cones or a Cherry sundae down in the minors, who may grow to be part and parcel of the "September call-ups" with the school clothes and backpacks.The rule being hard and fast, products must be placed by August 31st to be eligible for post season play. The only exception being the ___ ______ clause as a product on the 60-day disabled list you've since forgotten about. A product designated for assignment is immediately removed from the 40 card roster. Say goodbye to Hollywood. All seems lost. Sometimes these things happen for a reason. If a player is put on waivers another team can claim the baggage within 48 consecutive hours.

 

Virtually every flavor to savor in the major leagues will be placed on waivers this month, whether a team intends to trade that product or not. Heckle and haggle but at a price to be bought. No use growing cold. Let's be reasonable. Sometimes in a transaction the deal involves more than one paying customer. Its all cat and mouse and meticulous paperwork. If nothing else, the sheer volume of calling cards can at least disguise players whom clubs do want to sneak through so they can be dealt.

 

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It's getting in touch with how you felt when the Good Humor man was always around. Drowning your sorrows in a dreamsical always made me feel better...

 

To be civil, certain procedures must be put in place. Certified letters. Court documents. The hand-cranked freezers were a major breakthrough for sunshine on a stick, but, likewise, in Baseball negotiations, the gauntlet had to be raised. Having a party that submits to the courts also works. One open to almost any option. Akin to the wooden bucket freezer with rotary paddles to help improve ice cream's manufacturing process.

Players claimed by more than one team, are so as the spoils of rags, as the club with the worst record in that product's league gains priority -- and the player can be traded only to that team. If a deal can't be worked out or the team doesn't want to trade that player, it can be pulled back off the shelf once in August. If it is placed on the shelf again before September, it can't be recalled a second time.

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Fear has it's limitations, which I'm afraid, frightens me. If a team is hoping to dump a product's salary, a la Canseco, it simply allows a team which claimed that player to have them for a small waiver fee. If that happens, the team that gets the player has to pay the price.

 

Optional assignment is part of a 40 card roster not active and may be moved freely between two relative points: the Majors and the Minors, which are simply two different freezers. This may not occur for any part of more than 3 seasons or the player may no longer move without first clearing waivers. In the past many teams claimed players just to keep them from being traded to contenders with a better record.

This topic is obviously NOT the sunshine at the end of the rainbow. Or like ice brought from the mountains and combined with fruit toppings but business dealings in a weary and wired world.

 

Last Updated ( Thursday, 26 August 2010 17:24 )
 
ON THE HORIZON: college football brew ha ha
Written by B. Marshall Smith    Monday, 23 August 2010 22:34    PDF Print E-mail
B. Marshall Smith

 

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Up around the bend. Just on the horizon. A jam-packed athletic event full of social consequence. Student athletes fielded frenetically by American Universities to play out the odds for the main money men. Held in high esteem on the gridiron rendering smash mouth legit. Attending classes in classic Americana all across campus in as many different subjects. Herded into hallowed cathedrals were everyone knows the game. Go team!

 

Welcome to college football Saturday! Oregon is picked to win the Pac-10 and USC say's they'll be back again, but how will it play out on the field?

 

Feed the frenzy in the lot. Feel the pulsations, tailgating outside the stadium within a 10 mile radius. Or jam-packed into residential driveways hustling an extra buck parking cars on a private lawn. Following the slabs of plywood all the way around to the backyard making an indent in the grass.

 

Passing colored lots haphazardly arranged upon every block with College Gameday firing off some powered satellite generator. Everywhere you turn preparations are being made. Plans laid for the outcome and the grand entrance of the appetizers. Checkered tablecloths filled to the brim beside sizzling grills of smoked sausage. Tailgaters of every genre. Suds and tortilla's. El Capitan Margaritas flaunting foam fingers inside a mob of gang colors set just so, coloring another college campus across America.

 

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Be true to your school. Even if Alabama is ranked number 1 in the pre-season polls. Celebrate the action with thousands of your closest friends. Watch the drama unfold on every play. Faces painted. Rah. Rah. Rah. All decked out in a sea of red (this could be green, orange, yellow or blue. Dependent on the view.). Adulation works a great many ways with facets of love and hate, betrayal and envy, which will further induce or foster the elation of victory or the agony of defeat. We shall see...

 

The over-abundant athletic supporter goes all out. Knows no bounds. Tomorrow will have to wait until we're through with TODAY. Rah rah sis-boom-ba, EVERYTHING in a conference has been realigned. Some names will be changed. Where's the guidance of the North Star? Teams have run amuck in most every conference. Use pen and paper. Please, everyone, stand still, so we may get a accurate count of who's here and who's not!

 

The Big 10 and Pac 10 have pillaged the Big XII, in an epic face-off to claim conference superiority, but do you care if Nebraska plays Purdue instead of Kansas? Honestly?

 

What about a well played game? Plays on both sides of the ball. Solid special teams. This being said, is the Rose Bowl better football than the SEC?

An extremely popular game throughout the U.S., college football is the most dense in terms of popularity in the Southeast. 'Bama. Georgia. Louisiana. Tennessee. Perennial powerhouse, Florida. The list goes on...

 

Talk tradition, it the fancy of conditioned experts, all you like, but three of the greatest programs in the history of college football still come from the state of Florida. Miami's 2001 team may call into question the best there ever was.

 

Remember, one foot in bounds constitutes a legal catch and any player is down when a part of their body touches the ground. There are no exceptions! The Clock stops on a first down.

 

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Who wants a grilled dog? Maybe a basket of fries? You wanna sing the fight song again? Most impressive about college ball? There are NO ties!

 

Smell the ribs a-sizzlin as the sun sets wild purples and pink along the crest of a brilliant orange. Supreme as the eye catching coal slowly rolling over 'cross country to call it a night. Turn back into black. Another phase of the attack amid a successful day and service.

 

Tune in Thursday, September the second. Open the season with all the amenities long since considered the fan's traditional fare. Like room and board or a card in the union. College Football Saturday. Where every game counts!

 

Last Updated ( Monday, 23 August 2010 22:39 )
 
AFTER COUNTING TO 100 IN DECEMBER
Written by B. Marshall Smith    Tuesday, 17 August 2010 13:59    PDF Print E-mail
B. Marshall Smith

 

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Whistle blowers, it would seem, are getting the finger. Pointed directly back at them. No more Mr. Nice Crowd. Surprise! Under the hood monkey business for 15 minutes of commercials in a whirlwind of advertisements to come back with insufficient funds is not time well spent. For the money of sponsors! You retain the incorrect call? Visualize not world peace but a colored sea of angry faces with tormented souls and generations of disappointment built up.


This venue is not new with every major sporting endeavor having their share of problems. From infidelity to larceny to felony...but a betting referee and officials who can't seem to agree makes me think Ahmad Rashard should go back to football?

We the people in order to form a better union want the correct call good or bad. Sock it to us. Fair and true.

There is nothing judgmental about a strike zone...should Man play ______? The mere mortals want to be left alone to cheer and sneer and poke fun and then go placidly home.

With a surplus of fines, bad calls, technical fouls and the latest offspring, the double technical, which is a negative plus a negative equaling............nothing, if anyone is keeping track, the flood was fit ta burst in the NBA. Right chivalrous of the gates, to hold out 'long as they did. Bound to happen...officiating out front and under the boards has been erratic, intensely subjective and at times......personally vindictive but gross understatements tend to blow things out of proportion. Who's kidding! It's a device! The NBA is arguably the toughest game to officiate in the world, made more difficult with Black Sox scandals and star favoritism.

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Has it always been this bad? The true fan, more often than not, feels had and bad if there is true nature in the outcome.

If the NBA cares piece together the puzzle. The hustle and bustle leads to more in-house studies studying the studiers but fails to analyze the meat and potatoes at our dinner table. It's soup or salad and free breadsticks... never you mind the delightful garnishments...but don't fill up! You'll miss the pie! As if an intended target or full scope of information were an enigma.


Amazing happens when the officiating does not factor into the outcome of any competition. This is not limited to the play-offs. Today, subjective calls are measured as part and parcel of a list one thousand miles long. The ticky tack foul is filed by personal grievance. It's all such a mess. Touch fouls add up to the biggest pile of nothing next to being and nothingness.

What if a double negative wasn't so and instead illuminated? It gets one to set about thinking. This isn't wrasslin' now, is it? The use of marquee players run rampart, flowing in fields of favoritism, seemingly to do no wrong, which is supported by conclusive studies designed soley to investigate such phenomenon in the most covert of fashions. A subdivision unto another subdivision that goes way back to the old neighborhood days.

The shining rays of star power can not be missed...'tis alive and well, under the boardwalk and over the rainbow, which could support the theory that it would in fact exist if this wasn't a hypothesis. But get this...for any potential contested loose ball, a foul would be called 42 percent of the time if the call were against a "star, or golden child", which is merely fictitious and does not represent an actual person, if this had been an actual person there might have been a test, and 57 percent against a "non-star grunt."

Pavlovian, wouldn't you maze? A foul is a foul is a foul....five minutes in, just before the half or at the end of the game. Isn't that Dr. Naismith screaming from the sidelines calling for a 20 second time-out?

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Someone would remember Dick Bavetta and Bob Delaney in Game Six of the 2002 Conference Finals between the Kings and Mavericks where forward was backwards...North unto South, like the original Wonka before the freaky second take with Johnny Depp?

Some golden ticket! Upside down you're turning me with paper thin credibility which keeps on giving me...false security that anything could ever work out.

Why would officials play a vital role in the outcome of any game? Heard but never seen and certainly not identified? This is not a dream but a situation grown piss poor. Less than warm but still all the same...yella!

It is more than a hobby, mind you, to speak openly about the taboo or such topics. The well seasoned and informed demand justice. You are messing with near perfection.

 

Last Updated ( Sunday, 22 August 2010 12:33 )
 
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