LOST is NBA, NBA is LOST

Arzt! Barry! You knew it. You knew it! Who had it on their BINGO board? Who had it?! Raise your hand. C’mon, you knew that the high percentage shooter/scorer of the ABA/NBA era famed for being a champion of both leagues and for his extraordinary use of the underhand free throw would be paired with THE island roastmaster general who was previously a doctorate having high school science teacher with an incredibly odd backstory in catfishing to Australia which I had never known before reading that like a minute ago and whose life ended in a fiery explosion. You knew it! YOU FUCKING KNEW IT. Fuck you, I’m so predictable. I know. Sorry!  Yeah, so Rick Barry, I guess the pride of Roselle Park High School, New Jersey, scored a shit ton of points in the ABA/NBA and won a championship in both leagues, which is wild, and he was a big deal in college and he also was good at steals and yeah he’s a great ball player. So, I’m saying Rick’s high accuracy shooting is similar to Leslie’s fast and furio

Hell yeah! First thing first, Michelle Rodriguez is low rise jeans. She’s the epitome of low rise jeans, she’s the ruling authority on low rise jeans, low rise jeans exist to have found Michelle Rodriguez and to live with a waist line just just just just above her mons pubis and to define a stripe of pure, naked skin below her tanktop or t-shirt or cut-off leather jacket. In Plato’s theory of forms, Michelle Rodrigues IS low rise jeans. And I obviously was going to find a picture that illustrated such, not difficult to find at all, but I was unsure if I was going to find a picture of the one and the fucking only Elvin Hayes that could match that fucking energy and BOOM - did that. Fuck, look at Elvin in that photo! If that could be bottled to be drunk, if that could be bottled to be spritzed from a diffuser, if that could be bottled into a gel and used on a poof as a body wash! IF ONLY! IF. ONLY. Fuck. Yes.  Growing up and being into basketball and being into becoming a chubby, above a

Hunks. HUNKS. You know it. Just two certified hunks right here. Hunky? Yeah. They’re hunky, but they’re hunks. Full stop. Whatever they do is at least hunky adjacent because they’re just straight-up hunks. I just want to keep typing the word hunk, so that you’re saying it in your head. Do you read in your head in your own voice? I’m guessing you must, but maybe if you know me you’re reading it in my voice. And in either scenario, hunk. HUNK. Maybe the antithesis to finger. Hunk is good to finger is bad. A hunk fingered me on Veteran’s Day. Why are you reading this? I hope to have fingered a hunk before the next solstice. Anyway, I love you. Weren’t expecting that, right? HUNKS! Honestly, I haven’t really been reading the ESPN blurbs about the players as I get to them. I did read the first like three I think, but there’s not much there and I hadn’t thought twice about them for the past I guess 18 of these guys or so, until this one. I, genuinely, was surprised to see Anthony Davis on th

We’re talking big, we’re talking strong, we’re talking excitement, we’re talking a fighter, we’re talking individual points on the board moves, we’re talking born to American parents in an exotic location, we’re talking being a cornerstone for one team for a very long time and that team never really wins the big game, we’re talking about the ‘Human Highlight Film’ Dominique Wilkins and his THE island equivalent Ethan ‘The Human Creepazoid who Hangs Charlie and Kidnaps Claire Using Drugs and Violence’ Rom! Yeah! Wooooooo! Ethan! Ethan! Ethan… actually, uhhhh, don’t root for Ethan. Root for Dominique, yeah! Or Nique. Nique! Nique! Nique! Dominique was a full-on offensive threat against any team year in year out for a solid decade. The 1980s saw The Human Highlight Film scoring buckets and averaging 20+ points a game and most years closer to 30 points a game or even over 30 points a game for two of those years. He was a physical fucking threat. Dominique was a dunker, a MOTHERFUCKING DUNK

WAAAAALLLTTTT!!!!! That’s my son! I feel like when I think of Lost, the first thing I think of is Michael yelling ‘WAAAAALLLLTTTTT!!!’ and then the ‘That’s my son’, which Michael must say six billion times. It’s probably 75% of Michael dialogue is him saying either one of those things. But we’re not talking about the immensely talented Harold Perrineau playing Michael Dawson, we’re talking about his fictional son Walt who may or may not have had super powers on the show Lost and how he’s the parallel to one of the most cold-blooded scoring machines in NBA history - George ‘The Iceman’ Gervin.  No one cut to the core or played around less than Walt and Gervin. Seriously, The Iceman was the #1 scorer in the NBA for three consecutive years - THREE FUCKING YEARS STRAIGHT - and then slipped all the way down to third *eye roll* and then BLAM was back on top again the next year. Just buckets and buckets and buckets. And, he was a shooter - a pure shooter. Gervin was a shooter and a finger-rol

DRUGS. 420, baby! Mary Juana, baby! Hey baby, want to trip balls on some shroomy-moomies? Put some of that sticky icky all over for my body woddy and send me to the potty. Lickity LSD-ity and lets lickity each … I’m going to stop, but am I right? You know I’m right. What? Ok. DRUGS! That’s what we’re all thinking about. Bill Walton is the NBA equivalent of a Grateful Dead concert just overflowing with drugs and replace the funky scales of a jam session with I guess rebounds and double double stat lines and tough defense, and just as much stinky hair coming off a 70s era white dude. So, yeah, when we think about 2x NBA champion Bill Walton we think about drugs and being a big ole’ menace on the court, which I think matches up quite well with The Dharma Initiative’s lonesome interrogator Oldham who is really only seen one time and that is when he forces Sayid to ingest some LSD variant to get him to talk while he’s tied to a tree by chains. Uh huh.  Honestly, you get it. Just look at the

Say hello to The Bad Guy! Chico! *toothpick soaked in saliva thrown into your stupid eye* Honestly, there are so many professional wrestlers whose entrance gimmicks would’ve been THE WORST during this pandemic. We’ve got Razor Ramon flicking toothpicks from his mouth into people’s faces, Mr. Perfect batting gum - he was just chewing and spit into the air - into the crowd (maybe the greatest heel gimmick ever), HHH and Gangrel just spraying a full mouthful of liquid as high and as far as they can from their mouth just like everywhere, Bret Hart taking his sweaty ass sunglasses - how were his sunglasses that sweaty?! Was he sweating from his eyes and forehead exclusively? - onto a wanton child’s face/head, and really just a cesspool of COVID spreading.  Reggie Miller and, actually, hold on… Reggie MOTHERFUCKING Miller and Mikhail the eyepatched Russian merc were bad guys. Bad guys. Villains. And they LOVED IT. Loved. It. There are a ton of professional athletes who get saddled with a vil

Thick thighs save lives! Just two big ole’ ham hunks. I guess I’m going fuck styles right off the bat and say for those into big ole’ ham hunk, thick thighing, flesh mountains then Bram and Wes Unseld are your dudes. Wes is way more cut, jacked diesel than Bram, but Bram is more bear/body-hairy, so they both have their quirks depending on how you like your wide, trunk thumpin’ men. Is it weird me just outright talking about a man who just passed away at 75 years old - from health complications due to pneumonia that could very well have been COVID related too - and how he was as a lover and/or as a sexual icon to onlookers? I mean, maybe, but I also mean- let’s fucking celebrate this man! WES! You fucking made those tiny shorts look good. Damn he had some thighs.  Sex with either Wes or Bram has got to be sweaty. If we’re time-traveling the awesomely afroed 1978 NBA champion and Finals MVP of the Washington Bullets to right now and you’re fucking him in let’s say a bed and you don’t hav

A big star plus a team player, championship teams at that, big part of even greater stories than his own, career fell off with the abrupt departure of a big time teammate, and an avarice fuck style. Why am I saying ‘big’ so much? Beyond that it’s a perfectly good word to use in any of those statements? Well beyond, me not needing to track down synonyms for big because you’re really only here to see what I say about these fuckers fucking? Ummm, it’s motherfucking ‘BIG GAME’ JAMES WORTHY! BIG GAME! Great nickname. It’s simple, it rhymes enough, it’s fun to say, it’s fun to shout, it’s fun to say loudly and slowly, it’s accurate as shit. BIG. GAME. JAMES.  Little ole’ Big Game James was basically always a big deal. Highly scouted out of high school, huge fucking deal in college, #1 draft pick, just an all-timer and champion in the pros. I see a lot of parallels with James and former troop and torturer extraordinaire turned world-saving button pusher Kelvin Inman played by inimitable Clanc

Family, scorer, world traveler, shortened career, and cool. Seriously, who didn’t like T-Mac? No one! Everyone liked Tracy McGrady. In that post-Jordan and pre-Lebron era of the NBA dominated by the villainous Lakers and/or the emotionally absent Spurs, one of the most exciting playmakers and highlight reel ready stars was Tracy McGrady. T-Mac was one of way too many high schoolers who went from a McDonalds All-Star game directly into professional basketball competition. This is fucking crazy- a year into Tracy being in the league with the Raptors, they drafted his cousin Vince Carter who was 2 years older than him. Damn! They need to start paying college players! Take that waste of wealth on these old shit NCAA fuck fucks and these old shit college dean fuck fucks and these old shit college coaches fuck fucks and give the fucking money to the players who are earning this money. DAMN IT! And then you wouldn’t have basically tall ass kids in the NBA and you’d start to have a robust coll

There are a lot of thieves on Lost. Like a surprising amount. There’s basically two thief main characters and then they know a lot of thieves and then so many other main characters either dabble in thievery or get swindled by a thief. And one thought I had at the beginning of writing this list is pairing the steal artists of the NBA with the thieves of Lost and this is our first of such pairing(!!!!!)- Gary Payton and Cassidy or Cass as Sawyer huskily calls her. THE GLOVE!!! This is my fucking blog and I fucking love ‘The Glove’. Damn it! Damn it, I loved the Seattle Supersonics with Gary Payton and the almighty ‘Reign Man’ Shawn motherfucking Kemp! DAMN IT! Damn it. Shawn’s not going to be on this list is he? Fuck, it would be nice to know who is on this list ahead of time, but I’m sticking to not knowing. Damn it, I loved watching Payton alley-ooping to Kemp. I know this is about Gary Payton, but, as a kid or youngman, I had a few NBA jerseys and one of them was Shawn Kemp and I love

Let’s get the fuck into it- lived and ruled on an island by themselves for forever, island is full of hostiles, slow and steady but is a killer, has renewed life and purpose when two outsiders come to their island, suffers a stabbing, their body is left to rot on public display with one of those outsiders after passing on guardianship of their island and they do have a black and white token with them, and strict maternal vibe.  Did I nail it or fucking what?!  Paul Pierce aka ‘The Truth’ aka the guy who was just about killing himself each and every night for a cool decade by himself on the Boston Celtics. Mother was outright alone as the protector of the ‘Heart of the Island’ (championship legacy of Celtics past) from this crew of hostiles (aka Celtics fans) for years and we have no idea how difficult her struggles were or how long they went on for. And then, for Mother, a pregnant woman washed up on shore and Mother helped her give birth to two boy babies and then she promptly killed

We are doing it! Woooooo! Fuck yeah, ‘Vinsanity’ himself is the miracle baby… himself? … Aaron! Vince Carter is Aaron. I guess that’s in the title and you knew that. Oh, you knew it, alright! Seriously, you’re doing a list comparing ESPN’s top 74 all time NBA players and the characters from ABC’s sci-fi/action/thriller ‘Lost’ and you get to #55 Vince Carter and you’re not saying he’s the fucking baby birthed on THE island whose name is Aaron? PFFFFFTTT, OF COURSE YOU DO! It’s a no-brainer. Light work.  ‘Half Man, Half Amazing’ played for-fucking-ever. He actually was playing this season that was cut short by a damn PANDEMIC. I’m literally looking up right now if he did announce his retirement. Ok, so he has said this is the end, but who knows. Seriously. He’s been pro hooping it since the year 19 … yeah, that’s how fucking long ago this fucking guy started pro hooping. The year started with a 19! 1998, damn it. 1998? Playstation 1 was like a new thing. It wasn’t even Playstation 1 or O