So I guess Kobe Bryant isn’t coming out of retirement after all.
The Laker legend told Jimmy Kimmel in Hollywood this week that he’d “consider” lacing them up again if his former franchise went 0-5 to start the 2018/2019 season, whilst promoting his new book on the late night host’s show. But last night the new LeBron Angeles Lakers dug deep for that Mamba Mentality and blew up the Suns.
The King rose in Phoenix as the Lakers extinguished the Suns 131-113. It would have been a close call for the Lake Show if you swapped those last two digits around. It would have gone to overtime in fact like the last home thriller against former legend Pau Gasol’s Spurs. Which LeBron looked to have in the bag with a huge three which sent the game into O.T. and L.A. Sparks great Candace Parker into exclamations of “Oh.My.Goodness” at her basketball brothers big bomb. But then ‘Bron turned into Shaq at the charity stripe and that was all she wrote. But last night 113 looked to be unlucky for the Suns as the Arizona Phoenix was put back in the ashes of its place.
And it couldn’t have come at a better time for the Lakers who after dropping their opener away in Portland’s City of Roses, lost the next to the Houston Rockets along with Brandon Ingram and Rajon Rondo for a fair few games as they got into it with Laker asterix Chris Paul. They needed this one on the road to book against Devin Booker’s boys. Especially after coming off coming so close to beating their modern Boston rival, the San Antonio Spurs. The Lakers hustle, energy and ball movement was as hot as Venice Beach and its players in July. But the Spurs just had too much DeMar DeRozan. The former Raptor going off like those animals in the kitchen until the California club couldn’t stand the heat like a California sub with too much paprika.
But this game was different right from the opening tip that the Lakers controlled as they remained on top. Practicing what they preached in preseason as assist machine Lonzo Ball found a spring sprinting JaVale McGee and rewarded him for his won ball with a return alley-oop right off the bat. A play as genius as David Schwimmer’s Twitter response (and everyone else’s) to the appeal from Blackpool police to find a man who stole beers from a convenience store matching the description of looking like Ross from ‘Friends’ (for the record he looked more like Russ). Oh and shout-out to whoever came up with that Lakers ‘Friends’ theme tune Twitter video of the summer. Anyway back to it, the big center once disgraced by the Big Aristotle caught everything else thrown at him like he has been since his punctuated preseason. That is when he isn’t blocking everything in sight. Or hitting every weight room in sight. The only place you’ll find him right now other than above the rim is in the gym. His dedication off the block and through the hoop is the beating heart and soul of this team. The energy of this guy is off the charts. The energy of this team starts with this guy’s hustle. And it flows.
Laugh now Shaqtin’ a fool.
The Lakers cremated the Phoenix. Beating them by the legal drinking age overseas, whilst LeBron James brought everything in the box score a round. The King finished with all the stats to the tune of 19 points, 10 assists, 7 rebounds and 3 swipes as the Suns had nothing left like us when the day that giant star burns out (dark I know…get it?). But it was the guy that blew in his ear with his other jersey, number 6, Lance Stephenson who blew the Suns house down with a mad dog 23 (how fitting) points. Leading the second unit when former Josh Hart in the sweet rhubarb Nike’s wasn’t setting screens and making steals and cases for Defensive Player Of The Year as he ran the floor for transition dunks. Now will someone give the ‘Superbad’ Stephen Glansberg a high-five?! This kid is taking everyone’s lunch money.
Lance’s 8 rebounds and assists even laced Lonzo with a Showtime is back assist off the glass. As Ball showed for the second time this game that he can get up above the rim. And if they didn’t think the Ball boy could get it like that than just you wait until they saw JaVale McGee from downtown Phoenix. Just plays after Suns commentators reacted to a deep two make from the seven footer with doubting comments that Phoenix would leave him open like that all day, JaVale McGee turned into JaVale McThree. With buckets of rain all day in the W dry desert.
McGee had the most points in half a decade with 20 to go along with 6 rebounds and 4 blocks. Whilst against Booker’s 23 and rookie Deandre Ayton’s 22 and double/double with 11 boards (not to mention Laker legend (yeah I said it) Trevor Ariza and vet Tyson Chandler still burning for the Suns. He’s like that work horse in ‘Animal Farm’ that refused to be turned into glue) the Lakers lead by as many as 27. With Hart’s 15, 17 and some big dunks from Kuz and an all round influence like LeBron in Lonzo with 12 points, 7 rebounds and 6 assists. Who needed B.I. and ‘do though? As the new Lake Show made a statement in their Nike Statement jersey debut. The perfect purple with the black strip as these Lakers became road warriors for their first win under the King. Fading Phoenix’s bruised purple that for the Lakers once looked blue to black.
And that was that.
Now back-to-back let’s see what they can mine against the Nuggets in Denver tonight.
Enjoy the rocking chair Kobe.
Patrick Beverley Doesn’t Give A F…
If life really is measured on f###s. L.A. guard of the Clippers kennel, Patrick Beverley has none left to give.
Frankly my dear, in Hollywood this guy doesn’t give a damn.
He doesn’t care that the Lakers drafted and dealt him like Pau Gasol’s younger brother Marc (even if for fuel he once may have). They’ve made that young core mistake time (Julius) after time (D’Angelo) and history will Anthony Davis itself again. He doesn’t care about LeBron James and his Hollywood throne. Or even Lonzo Ball and his opening night. He doesn’t care that the Lakers are the Tinseltown toast of Hollywood and L.A.’s team. He doesn’t care that they share STAPLES like borrowing office supplies from the next cubicle. They aren’t even in the playoffs right now. But his team is. Covering up banners with the balls to raise one of their own one day. He cares about this side of L.A. Their way.
Patrick Beverley doesn’t care about the Houston Rockets, James Harden, Russell Westbrook, or the Oklahoma City Thunder like Kevin Durant. And he doesn’t care about him or Steph Curry, Klay Thompson, Draymond Green, DeMarcus Cousins or any Splash Brother Warriors from Oakland to San Francisco. You can talk about how Kevin Durant cares about him though. Look at that look of love for the game he’s bringing on his face in the midst of all that trash talking respect disguised as hate. I haven’t seen Kevin this happy in years. For all that emotion K.D. has received ever since he switched shores to the Bay, this is the only time he’s loved this type of hate. Because it’s not that. It’s just the passion of competition. And there’s nothing “just” about that, although all is fair in love and basketball war. Because like the late, great Charlie Murphy once said about Prince serving pancakes and behind the backs on ‘Chappelle’s Show’ epic real Hollywood stories, “this cat can ball man”.
Would anyone like some grapes?
I guarantee Patrick Beverley doesn’t care if you do. Like he doesn’t even care that Durant dominates this photo that speaks a thousand words or more for this article like we were shamelessly trying to bait more clicks. When really we’re trying to show how David looks in the face of Goliath from his vantage point. Not to mention the joy laced with “oh s### this guy’s really got me” look on the face of one of the greatest in the game about to get ejected too for going toe to toe with a super sub. But never underesimate the power of a microwave player like leaving your reheated Subway sandwich in the nuke cooker for too long. No matter how much you blow on it or fan it with you skittish hands, it’ll never quite feel like it’s going to cool off from its magma serving like a deep burn (we’re talking more ‘Big Bang’ Sheldon Cooper Aloe Vera here, more than ‘Anchorman’ Ron Burgundy’s thousand bicep curls that probably started at around nine hundred and ninety nine). Hello Lou Will, 6 Man of all-time, popping nachos after he did the Warriors celebration balloon like fallen Forum ones in Celtics cursed storied Lakerland. He doesn’t care about tacos, this cheese is for all the salsa. Pat Bev doesn’t even care that this Laker fan wishes he would have worn purple and gold like others he still wishes would (miss Zu). Like he probably doesn’t care for this shortened version of his name.
Patrick Beverley won’t even care about this article but we do.
He doesn’t care that the Durant dynasty as hot as Curry from downtown Oak Town are champions for years running more than faucets that leak as much as the splash in the Golden Gate of Golden State’s Pacific. To be specific he doesn’t even care if his team is down 31. Because another 30 points from sweet Lou will turn this game around and into the makings of a all guts to their own glory road, ESPN 30 for 30 documentary as the Clippers clip all that like short back and sides. Just like the place you parlour pool your postgame analysis in the next day as you’re former haircut gets dustpan swept up like many people thought these L.A. kings of the underground would be on their way by now like “we close in half an hour”. But now they stand as underdogs of the year in an end of season award category that should be invented with this guy being it’s de facto MVP for his team. Most Improved? Nah? Patrick Beverley doesn’t care about that.
He doesn’t care about you. The name on the back of your jersey. Or the team on the front. No matter how many people in the stands share those strands. He doesn’t care if he gets in your head like the Spotify song of the moment, or under your skin like that underrated Scarlett Johansson movie that sees her as an alien riding around Scotland in a a truck picking up dudes (why was I not in Glasgow that week?). He doesn’t care that I wasn’t in Glasgow that week. Neither does Scarlett.
What he does care about is his job, his role and his team. And he doesn’t care if he has to get ejected like the passenger seat in James Bond’s old Sean Connery era Aston Martin to do it. He doesn’t care if you’ve just been jettisoned from 007’s car. He doesn’t care if you’re shaken or stirred. You should have worn a seatbelt. He cares about buckling up and down. Guarding the opposing teams best player. Even if it is one of the best in the world right now. And he doesn’t care about switching to the other best player in the world on the same damn team if the occasion calls for it. He doesn’t care about that. He just cares about rising to the occasion. Answering the call. He doesn’t care if Philly are on their phones. He cares about what’s at stake. He cares about making them sweat for every shot, swat or not. He cares that tonight’s he’s going to give his all come tip. Because here’s a tip for you, what Patrick Beverley DOES care about is the game. Like the one Allen Iverson goes out there and dies for. Forget practice. Stepping over Kevin freaking Durant like Ty Lue. Like he 1 through 15 cares about his band of brothers. Like family. Like what he’d give everything for. Sweat after shot. Cheap or invested. Never throwing in the towel, or even taking a Gatorade break. Unlike Young Jeezy he doesn’t even care about how much Gatorade makes. And who even cares about Lob City these days after they threw it all away? Chris Paul, Blake Griffin and even saving Jordan before DeAndre ended up at the Garden like M.J. at his best? That’s all history Doc. He cares about Rivers that run deep. Not the air up there in LAX like the Hollywood Hills, but the grounding reality of what this game is all about. Spalding to hardwood.
Patrick Beverley doesn’t care about 10 points and 5 assists. His line or a career high. All he cares about tonight is that the box score of stats reads a W for the team he gives his blood, sweat and opponents tears for. So here’s for him, whether he cares for it or not. Like being the only player that reminds us of those golden era mined tough 90’s years. Or much like those Oakley and Mase (Rest Peacefully money) Knicks, in stark contrast the grit and grind Grizzlies that this gnarly son of an expletive-we can’t mention like the no f words given again and again in this article-would be perfect for alongside fellow defensive dog back in the day Tony Allen. He doesn’t care that there’s no one like him in a league who needs more players exactly like this. Because believe me you know who does care?
Every other player in this league who has to face him. Because face it. Like him or not he’s the realest thing to happen to this game since hand checking. So you really do have to hand it to him.
But if you don’t? Guess what we don’t give?
Clippers’ nacho-eating Lou Williams collection a viral masterpiece
When your name is Lou Williams nothing is out of reach.
Exhibit A — casually rescue your team from a 31-point hole to set an NBA playoff and Los Angeles Clippers franchise record for the largest comeback victory — defeating the defending champs Golden State Warriors 135-131 in one of the few remaining games in a building where post-season victories rarely comeby.
Exhibit B — Continuing the 36-point, 11-assist double-double by double-dipping on a large nacho-platter in the Warriors visiting room whilst cooling out the knees to funny social media memes of historic events that just transpired.
Exhibit C — casually show-up in eating nachos on infamous masterpiece paintings such as Leonardo Da Vinci’s “The Last Supper” or casually Sunday afternoon chilling on George Seurat’s oil on canvas island of La Grand Jatte from 1884.
@LAClippers’ nacho-eating Lou Williams masterpiece collection
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