Tokyo, Japan- In a series of events that shockingly hearkened back to Universal Monster movies of the 60s and 70's, Spurs forwards DeJuan Blair and James Gist have completely destroyed the city of Tokyo. News of the unstoppable mutant rampage broke shortly after 6pm EST, just as Asian Stock exchanges were ringing their opening bells. Witnesses all seem to recount the two gigantic black men sending thousands of civilians running for their lives as they ran forth from the sea and began to fell entire city blocks with their raucous horseplay.

Though reports are still hitting news desks around the world, they all seem to have the common thread of Gist and Blair laughing with glee as they stormed through Tokyo streets with the enthusiastic smiles of two 400 ft tall five year olds on Kool Aid and PCP. Several eyewitness accounts have assured various media outlets that the destruction was similar to "that game, Rampage, except worse, but sort of better because Rampage sucked." At press time, no reports of either Mothra attack, or Japanese boys dubbed by women have been confirmed.

When interviewed at Wednesday's practice, neither Gist nor Blair could contain their excitement as they recounted their story to the throng of media that had suddenly flooded to the AT&T Center in the sprawling crack ghetto of San Antonio. "Say, G. You remember when we came up outta that ocean and was like PWISSSSSSHHHHHH?" Blair detailed unintelligibly as he made various hand movements to detail something that probably related in some way to the billions of dollars caused in property damage. "Yeah, that shit was cool man." Gist added. "But when yo ass saw them planes coming, and was like BOOOOOSH! Them dudes was like Han Solo in that meteor shower or something." Gist briefly apologized when his own enthusiastic gestures made contact with a CNN cameraman, killing him instantly.

Though onsite recollections are still sparse, several accounts have leaked to the press describing one of the two standing atop various buildings in the downtown area, making pelvic thrusts towards circling news choppers, while the other rocked the B-Boy stance at incoming tanks. Though it cannot be confirmed as to who was doing what, it has been ascertained that several Sony Playstations were damaged when the two had a lightsaber fight with flag poles they tore off of a nearby baseball field. "That shit was the realest." Blair commented. "G was like Darth Maul up in that piece, goin' like WHOOOAAAAMMMMMM" Though nobody in the locker room was entirely sure what that meant, Tim Duncan was able to assuage confusion by informing reporters that Blair had been simulating the louder audible hum made by Darth Maul's double sided lightsaber, which required an additional power crystal to add the second blade. Duncan then strode out of the locker room muttering "Nerds...." to himself.

Despite the international outcry that has arisen from the duo's spirited bouts of science fiction sword fighting, both US President Barack Obama and NBA Commissioner David Stern are mum as to what will be done to discipline the two . Insider sources point to a season long suspension being the most likely, but only if either refuses to level the entire Oklahoma City Thunder facilities, which both Stern and Obama agree was a total shit storm and sucks way harder than Rampage did.

ESPN wire sources have confirmed similar experiments to destroy cities by other teams have been unsuccessful. New York area reporters have disclosed that both Darko Milicic and Al Harrington were foiled in their attempt to destroy the small pacific island of Fiji when the duo was turned away by several islanders in a pontoon canoe. The Phoenix Suns also reported similar failure to level New Delhi. Initial reports indicated that the early goings were successful, but were stemmed when they shot themselves in the foot by trading Leandro Barbosa for Derrick Coleman's Luby's card midway through the operation.

San Antonio, Texas - Spurs guard Michael Finley is in stable condition after suffering a gunshot wound sustained during a brief panic during which it was ascertained that he was "probably definitely a zombie." Although witnesses all seem to be in agreement that he's still a threat from deep, general consensus among those interviewed at the scene contends that it was better to be safe than sorry. With public zombie awareness at an all time high, local law enforcement officials seem to be understanding.

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The Irreverence Begins...

About a year ago, when I was finishing up school, my brother came up to live with me. He was a sophomore and staying with me was cheaper than paying rent. I lived in a pretty nice place, a three bed/three bath two story condo that was part of a building with three other units. The neighbors were all pretty cool, particularly the girls that lived next door. They only called the cops on me once for playing the guitar too loud, so we all got along pretty well. Well, as luck would have it, my brother ended up having this gigantic crush on on of the girls who lived there.

Despite the fact that the girls were all pretty cool, their boyfriends were the type of insecure douches that everybody loves to hate. The whole "popped collar, I lift weights for no reason and wear skate shoes but don't skate" thing was in full effect with these guys. Two of the three weren't TOO bad, and I was able to maintain a serviceable relationship between us. The worst of the three just conveniently happened to be the one dating the girl my brother liked. 

Most people have known at least one jealous person in their lives, whether they actually dated one, or just knew of somebody who did. Whatever the case though, the stories are all pretty blase and identical. This guy however, went about three notches over what might have typically been deemed over the line by most jealous people themselves. He would alternate between bouts of over the top crying, black rage, and threats to kill me whenever I watched him do it. He had no problem doing any of it either in front of me, or through the very thin wall that rested between my kitchen and her room.

One particular night, after a long string of fights, and almost break-ups, the guy pulled up to the house in his douche-y yellow hummer. Amy (the girl) met him outside and they sat on the bench right outside my place. When my brother got home, he walked right past the two before coming inside to tell me that he was tired of the way Todd was treating Amy, and that he was going to do something about it. Well, as luck would have it, predictability won out and the couple began arguing again. This time though, Todd became so scatter-brained that when he decided in short order to storm off, then apologize (a thinly veiled angle for make-up sex, no doubt), he forgot that he left his back seat door open. He had been planning on staying the night and when he threw his bag back in the car, I guess he just forgot what he was doing. Anyhow, when he and Amy retired inside, my brother decided that now was the time. I, being a sucker for entertainment, volunteered for action as well.

After taking enough time to make sure that they had gone inside for good, We approached the hummer and kind of stood there looking at it, not really sure what to do with the golden opportunity we'd been granted. At first, it seemed like we'd just end up standing there staring at it, letting the moment go to waste, but that was before Cameron decided he wanted to honk the horn. He hopped into the back seat and climbed over into the drivers seat, and began honking the horn, and flipping every switch the thing had to offer. He sprayed water all over the windshield and left the lights on, all without alerting Todd who by now was "preoccupied". Eventually though, the thrill of sitting in Todd's driver seat wore off. That happened just in time for me to notice the cup of McCallister's Iced Tea sitting in the cup holder. It didn't take long for me to decide what belonged in the cup more than the tea itself, and Cameron and I quickly took advantage by peeing in the cup and setting it back in the holder. Cameron was inspired though, and "accidentally" got some on the passenger seat. 

During the time all this was going on, the downstairs neighbor had come out to walk her dogs, and noticed that something was going on. The comically over the top laughter coming from the hummer likely being the indicator, though I'm sure the flashing blinkers may have added. When she walked over to ask what the hell we were both doing in the truck, she made the fatal flaw of giving Cameron an audience. We're both easily encouraged, but when Cameron gets into his zone, he'll drop any and all common sense he might otherwise have had in lieu of pleasing his newfound viewers. This time was no exception, and he quickly crossed his own line and decided that peeing in the car wasn't all that needed to be done. Despite her urgings, he shut the door and was left alone in the car to do his business. A couple of minutes later, he emerged and told us that Todd would have to spend his visit in the same clothes he had on.. He'd found his bag and dropped a deuce in it. All of us were laughing so hard at what had been going on that we never noticed the light in Amy's room turn off.

When we heard the door to her place open and shut, we panicked and quickly began to shuffle away from the truck as fast as we could. Cameron though, is a bit slow at times and didn't react fast enough. Rather than risk being seen running away from a hummer with its blinker on and the door opened, he literally jumped into the far back of the car. I was a few cars away when this happened, pretending that I was just talking to my neighbor, but I saw the whole thing. I vividly remember thinking to myself "Oh my God, Cameron. What in the holiest hell are you doing?" As Amy and Todd made their way to the car, they each looked over at Megan and I, and waved before they climbed into the car. Apparently not immediately noticing anything was wrong, or simply eschewing to care, they drove off, with Cameron still hiding in the back seat. I simply stood there and watched as the car left the parking lot and drove down the street until it was out of sight. 

About ten minutes later, I got a phone call from Cameron, asking me to come and pick him up at Cheddar's. I asked him what happened and he said that he would tell me when he got out of there. I left immediately and found Cameron standing at the corner about two blocks away from the restaurant, outside a Starbucks where other people had spent their evening studying. When I pulled into the parking lot, Cameron hopped in and sat there, staring through the windshield as I looked at him expectantly. There was a kind of awkward silence before Cameron told me that he heard Todd remark about something smelling bad about three quarters of the way to Cheddar's. He recounted how he went from being afraid of being caught, to being afraid he'd laugh too hard on the way there. Still, he said, that wasn't the weirdest part. After they pulled into the parking lot, he waited as they got out took enough time to allow them to walk away. When he decided to make a run for it, he climbed over the seat and let himself out. Ten feet away from Todd and Amy, who had bumped into some friends. He told me that when he hopped out of the car, Amy was looking right at him, but didn't say anything. Nobody else noticed anything at all. 

Turns out that later that night, Amy and Todd broke up for good, because we heard them fighting again, and watched Todd drive off into the night. We never saw him again. 

That title sounds bad ass, like I'm some sort of ninja standing atop a high mountain field, waiting for destiny. 

Ninja or not though, I just wanted to announce my triumphant return to PtR. It's been a long time since I've been on here in any real capacity, stopping by once or twice just to let you all know I wasn't dead. Well, this time I'm back, and I'm still not dead. For all of you old timers, that means I'll be back at it with more insightful blithering idiocy that may or may not have anything to do with the Spurs. For all you newcomers though, that means you'll get to know me through my insightful blithering idiocy that may or may not have anything to do with the Spurs. Whatever the case may be, I'm usually good for riotous amounts of laughter, or sometimes just a pity laugh.

As far as my recent backstory goes, let's just say that I packed a whole lot of living into the past few months. I got to learn firsthand what a gigantic whore of an economy our collective nation operates under. I was able to experience the glorious job market in all of its unbridled, heathen glory. I earned the right to say, for the first time in my life, that I did not start a fight, but rather finished one. I saw a fish.

As I type this, I'm sitting at work at my new job, working as an intern for an ad agency. It's kind of demeaning, considering my age, but I am actually really happy with it. Happy or not though, I'm still obviously prone to not doing my work in lieu of being distracted by things that seem more interesting or shiny. You gotta live life with that childlike sense of wonderment, I say. 

As far as our Inglorious BasSpurs (I made that up just now, so if it's awesome, then you're welcome, and if not, then I hate you) are concerned, I'll be attending the preseason game against the Cavs. I'll also be picking up the latest iteration of the venerable NBA 2k franchise, which looks to be the first game capable of being in my PS3, and NOT being named Skate or Skate 2 at the same time. 

Anyhow, I just wanted to shamelessly promote myself and my return to the blog-sphere. I operate under the perhaps woeful ruse that I'm living an epic life, and that the world needs to know. Whatever that case ends up being, it is good to be back on here.

Good Times. They doth surely lie ahead. Verily.

I'm wearing red, gold, and blue Vans... Righteous.

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Lo, doth the tides of nightfall stretch across the sky with foreboding. 

The earthy loam packed hard beneath his warrior feet,

dyed red from the claret of the fallen.

Red, like his own Warrior's Mane.

For on this day did they drink deeply from his sword. 

And though he doth stand here now,

at the maw of Hellwynd Keep,

He is resolute, and fears no man.

For no man has ever bested him, and so he marches with this burden.

Cursed for all time, to walk this fallen earth

Until he meets the blade of The One Who Will End His Suffering.

But the Red Warrior has walked upon this trodden path.

He Knows.

There will never be that peace.

By no mortal hand will he ever be given sanctuary

From his own cursed memories.

Not one will attest to having lain their steel

upon his cursed flesh.

Because that man,

The Man They Call Bonner,

Has left no man standing, 

That has ever faced him.

And yet, even at these forked roads of Destiny,

Doth the prophecy speak loudest.

Echoing in the foreboding peace of nocturne,

That there will one day come a man who,

Can lay The Bonner down,

To that eternal rest for which he has quested.

Bonner has read this Prophecy.

He knows it line by line.

Each word dripping with the promise of the sweet,

Forgiving caress

Of a Warrior's Death most noble.

Most righteous.

With great zeal doth The Bonner wait for this man,

The Man They Call Gist, To End His Pain

For though the blackness of death is unknown to Him,

The Warrior's heart yearns always for the fight.

It is his only true mistress.

It is his only salvation.

For Bonner, This Death,

La Bella Morte, 

Is the only thing that can reunite him

With his fallen betrothed. 

Taken from him on their wedding day.

The first night of the harvest, so long ago.

E così Egli Attendere

A braccia aperte 

per il suo unico vero amore

il suo unico vero morte.

Yeah, I have to admit, my Spurs watching habits have grown a bit rusty of late. I don't DVR the games like I used to, and I haven't been to a game yet this season. The good news is, I still come to this lovely gem of a website to get all my Spurs related info. That means that my cynical view of everyone's favorite boring team hasn't waned in the slightest. And sometimes, in the case of Sunday's "game", it's the small victories you have to be happiest about.

I'm sure that before the game, and possibly even during the game until maybe halftime, people thought that maybe this would be  a competitive game. Most people think that about big games. However, when you're a Spurs fan, you know that such presumptive behavior usually only leads to you cursing at the TV as you pretend your favorite athletes can hear your distaste as they get completely annihilated in front of Hollywood and the rest of the normal world.

Sunday's game was a terrible game. I shouldn't even have to delve into paltry things like "scores" or "Kobes", when one can just look at the box score and see how loudly they can say their favorite cuss word. I like to phrase mine as some sort of crazy bastardization of linguistics, where the word is a question, statement, and cryptic prophecy all at once. I'm a professional though, and I'm qualified to do those things. 

I'm pretty sure that during the time between tip-off and complete embarrassment, Los Spurs were competitive for a second or two. Like I said before, in my last half assed and cynical recap, I feel like I don't even need to watch the games to know exactly what happened. It's sort of like when your wife or girlfriend (or male counterpart for all females aboard this PtR Express Elevator to Basketball Hell) knows you're lying, just because they've known you for so long. My relationship with the Spurs has gotten to that point. We all know that they tease us with their proficiency for a half before wigging out like ED-209 in Robocop.

"You have five seconds to disarm", Spurs....

I have to admit, I feel like some sort of telepathic entity, like those twins in Minority Report. I just KNOW when the Spurs lose, and also why they lose. My special power seems to be limited only to losses, as this season, I just can't seem to figure out why in the hell we win some games. Whatever. My gift, my curse.

For any stat geeks looking to get a professional style recap. Go read ESPN. This new look Scrappy-Doo doesn't care about things like "points", "rebounds", or Hollinger's excruciatingly asinine PER rankings. I've raised my game up about 38 notches, and now I'm just waiting for my Spurs to get here with me. By the looks of Sunday's game, I may be waiting awhile. Good thing I brought my PSP.

I find it kind of ironic that on the day I quit my job, Vince Carter almost did his. I didn't watch this game, because I was self medicating at The Mean Eyed Cat after taking a nasty crash at the skatepark, but I didn't feel like I needed to, because what happened last night was pretty much the most predictable thing ever. I was in the right frame of mind though, because whilst I was recuperating with myriad alcoholic beverages, I would check up on the score with my fancy mobile phone. Seeing the Spurs play, yet again, to the level of a team they could've, and should've, steamrolled by at least 258 points was like nothing else I've ever seen if I was a fan of any other NBA team ever.

Apparently, my phone AND NBA Fastbreak alleged that the Nets managed to match the Spurs shot for shot throughout the game, but we all know that when your record is 19-24, you aren't matching anybody's shots anytime or anywhere. I offered up an alternative hypothesis to my indifferent cohorts in alcoholism, that the Spurs simply allowed their opponents to look better than they really were, by playing terribly on purpose. This is a hypothesis that will, I predict, soon make its way into the realm of scientific THEORY, because pretty much every time the Spurs play somebody like this, the games are way more exciting than we all know they should be. Exciting like a Jerry Bruckheimer movie.

Tim Duncan scored some points and had some rebounds, as did Manu Ginobili and Tony "Tupac" Parker. Michael Finley continued to make the assertion that he isn't a living dead girl by scoring a key basket down the stretch to save the Spurs from themselves. 

Apparently, Austin Croshere is on our team,a fact I would've been woefully unaware of had he not played 48 minutes and scored 82 points. Just kidding, we all know that Austin Croshere doesn't play. He DOES however, bring our total of near useless white guys to 2 1/2 (I spot Fabio a half point because he's Argentenian and can't help it if he doesn't look more Portuguese, or some other kind of more worldly hispanic...)!!

Yao hurt his knee. That news had the hard hitting power of a Barry Zito fastball. 

Did you guys know that AIDS is a problem in Africa? TV reassures me that this is probably the case. I make the assertion that if we sent them Playstations instead of having charity drives using stylishly aloof GAP clothing, we could circumvent these alleged "AIDS". Think about it, who's got time to think about sex when there are nuclear crises to be averted in Metal Gear? Nobody, that's who!

Anyhoo, There really wasn't a whole lot to say about this game. I hope that The Scrappy-Doo Double Feature can leap back into form with the next game...

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There’s always a few games a season where, for whatever reason, your team plays another a lot closer than pretty much anyone feels was really necessary. Whether or not it’s that your team plays down to the other’s level, or that the other team steps it up a notch or seven, isn’t really important, because what is important, is how annoying it is. In recent years, you might have a palpable reason to call this weird affliction “Spurs Disease”.

Over the past few seasons, The San Antonio Spurs have had an almost perverse proclivity to slum it against teams they should be beating handily. Teams like the Clippers, Bobcats, Sonics (I do not acknowledge “The Thunder”), Wolves, and last night, the Grizzlies, have all been made to look better than they are by the oft-lazy Spurs. The lone disclaimer in this is that the Hawks have temporarily forgotten that they are the Hawks and have been quietly not having a terrible season.

In yet another marathon double overtime game against a team that should have been out of it by halftime, the Spurs allowed the Grizzlies to stay in it by being out-rebounded on both ends of the floor.  Offensive rebounds again stuck out the most as they allowed Marc Gasol easy lay-ups to the tune of a 15 point, 10 rebound stat line.  Both Gasol and reserve Hakim Warrick had productive games in the paint, and combined with OJ Mayo’s 29 point outing, the Grizzlies were a little tougher to stop than normal.

Still, this write-up is about the winners, and the Spurs managed to get away when it mattered most. Despite the numerous chances Memphis had to win it late, Tony Parker managed to continue to turn away the aggressive youngsters with several key baskets down the stretch. Parker’s 32 points however, almost weren’t enough, as the game was only safe after Michael Finley (wtf?) swatted Memphis’ final attempt away.

Parker’s performance was complimented nicely by Tim Duncan, who offered 29 points before fouling out in the first overtime. Manu Ginobili rounded out the Big Three’s scoring with a 20 point outing.

Memphis’ young core of players could probably take as much credit for the Spurs’ victory as could the Spurs themselves. Despite being up by 11 in the third, and visibly having a good time, they couldn’t keep the composure and allowed the aging Spurs to climb back into the game. The Grizzlies performance did offer a lot on which they can grow however, as their young players stretched their geriatric opponents to the limit. Memphis coach Marc Iavaroni echoed this sentiment, remarking that his team “was getting there, but not there yet.”

The Spurs, ripe with the experience that comes from being the league’s resident retirement home, were able to take their own positives from the game. Duncan debatably remarked that the win was “a huge one”, putting to rest the notion that huge wins typically come against good teams. He did provide a small nugget of truth when he revealed that his team “found a way to win.”

Hey, even a crash landing is still a landing…

Compliments of The Onion... 

EAST RUTHERFORD, NJ—A Devin Harris three-point attempt that caromed wildly off the back of the rim during the third quarter of Wednesday night's New York Knicks–New Jersey Nets game has created a disruption involving the entire NBA, with all 450 of the league's players attempting to scoop up the loose ball and gain possession for their respective teams.

NBA officials say the ball initially bounced near the Izod Center sideline, where Nets guard Bobby Simmons jumped, turned, and saved the ball, but inbounded it at a severe enough angle that it struck Knicks forward Al Harrington's shoe. The ball was then sent high into the air, ricocheting in turn up the arena's aisles, into the concession area, out the front entrance, through the parking lot, and on to I-495 East towards Manhattan, leaving multiple flailing players in its wake.

Eyewitnesses said that Nets and Knicks players continued to give chase along the highway and were eventually joined over the next three hours by the Toronto Raptors and Los Angeles Clippers, with players only breaking off their pursuit for a few minutes when Knicks guard Nate Robinson was struck and killed by an oncoming car.

"That's the kind of tenacity I like to see on the court, down the Lincoln Tunnel, and up Broadway," Knicks coach Mike D'Antoni told reporters as a live feed of the bouncing ball revealed that it had entered Philadelphia, where Sixer Andre Iguodala and Cleveland's LeBron James were chasing it around the Liberty Bell. "A willingness to sacrifice one's body by diving into the stands or the Hudson is what separates good teams from great teams."

When no players from the Atlanta Hawks, Indiana Pacers, or Utah Jazz were able to gain possession, the ball continued to bounce along I-95, eventually rolling off at a Washington, D.C. exit. Members of the Washington Wizards and Detroit Pistons then entered the scramble and proceeded to bat the ball through the White House; around the Lincoln Memorial; up, down, and back up the steps of the Washington Monument; into the Holocaust Museum's railcar exhibit; off the Key Bridge; and into the Potomac River, where a combination of tides and splashing from floundering players carried it into the Atlantic Ocean.

Although Toronto's Chris Bosh attempted to call time-out before the ball entered the river, referee Dick Bavetta—who had been chasing the ball through the entirety of its journey in order to monitor any loose ball fouls—said Bosh did not have possession and therefore could not call for a stoppage in play.

"You gotta be kidding me," said Bosh, who needed the rebound to complete a triple-double. "If he would have called that foul on [Pacer's forward Danny] Granger in Delaware this wouldn't even be an issue. No way that trip wasn't intentional."

Starters from the Miami Heat and Charlotte Bobcats spent the next several hours swimming after the ball approximately 90 miles off the coast of Florida, where it ultimately came into the possession of the Cuban military, who would only relinquish the ball to an NBA official. The resulting stoppage in play forced Bavetta to perform a jump ball between Miami's Dwyane Wade, Charlotte's Emeka Okafor, New Orleans' Chris Paul, Orlando's Dwight Howard, and Boston's Kevin Garnett.

Garnett, who had been enjoying the Celtics' Wednesday off, left dinner with his wife and entered the pack of chasing players after observing the loose ball rolling past the restaurant window.

"You got to want it," said Garnett, who tipped the jump ball to Yao Ming, who tipped it to Greg Oden, who tipped it to Pau Gasol, who tipped it onto the back of flatbed truck that was on a container ship headed back to the United States. "Where can I rent a cigarette boat around here?"

The container ship, however, was discovered to be captained by Lakers guard Kobe Bryant, who told reporters that he was ready to go on a fast break when the ball was suddenly knocked out of his hands by "Cuban refugees," who turned out to be disguised members of the San Antonio Spurs and Sacramento Kings.

The ball was batted around the deck for the entirety of the 600-mile trip to Galveston, TX, where the Chicago Bulls, Minnesota Timberwolves, Milwaukee Bucks, and Houston Rockets, alerted by breaking news reports, waited at dockside for the ship's arrival. A large melee ensued, and the ball was tipped nearly 70,000,000 times, working its way to Los Angeles, up towards Big Sur, all through Alcatraz, back down the Pacific Coast Highway, and finally into Oklahoma.

Though multiple shouts of "Same team!" were heard echoing throughout the more than 1 million square miles of the Great Plains, not one member of the 2-20 Oklahoma City Thunder realized that no other basketball organization was around to wrest the ball away from them. The Thunder lost its chance to gain possession when the ball bounced off Kevin Durant's knee into Colorado and over the Rocky Mountains, where Carmelo Anthony mishandled it and accidentally tipped it to Shaquille O'Neal. O'Neal, not knowing what was going on, threw the ball into the Grand Canyon, which is where the ball currently sits.

"We're not going into the Grand Canyon," a statement from the National Basketball Players Association read in part. "At this moment all 450 of us can see the ball, but there is a snake near it, and we think it might be poisonous. We will go after the loose ball when the snake leaves."

As of press time, Vince Carter has made absolutely no attempt to get the ball back for the Nets.