- Cowardice on display with the anointed one crying to the officials, Jay-Z, David Stern, et al. regarding the false injurous reputation of the Wizards, not only during a heinously overwrought skinned elbow incident, but also during a press conference yesterday. Whatever falsely upheld legacy that Lebron weilds upon his leaving of the Cavs and joining of the Brooklyn whoevers before he retires ought to be stained by his behavior during this series.
- More cowardice on display as the anointed one pretended to want to drop the gloves against Deshawn after a namby-pamby flagrant-one to which he added in his legendarily lame presser yesterday that "if it were on the playground something would have happened." Yeah, it wouldn't have been a foul.
- The only Cavs fans in existence sitting behind me during game four making lamely racist quips about Deshawn Stevenson being "high" despite no official reports deeming such a thing as ever happening. The quips about Caron being a former drug dealer were also tasteless, but such trivial racism is the only thing to grasp when you have no championships, ever, to grasp.
- Lebron providing more locker room post-its for the Wiz to generate positive, competivitive-fire-igniting reaction in the form of winning the next three.
- Possibly the lamest diss song since "What's Clef Got to Do With It" being performed by the supposed greatest rapper alive. A pathetic attempt to stay interesting by grampa Jigga, trying hard to help poor baby Lebron stave humiliation at the constantly-trumping via pop culture, Stevenson. Someone get Cam'Ron on the horn.
- Mike Wise forgoeing all the fine work done during the Caps series to awkwardly pretend to understand the rap music, then return to the fawn-fest upon anointed's passing up of the game winner.
- Seven-step drives to the hoop.
- The Verizon Center, rife with Optimilitia members, again turning the place out with fan-tastically brilliant "over-rated" chants, cheers for every Deshawn move, and lustful boos for the oft-terrible officiating. Hopefully game six will feature a Cavalier catching a wayward beer bottle too.
- The effectiveness of pretending to be injured, as it is the main thrust of Cleveland's defensive philosophy.
- A very not-100% Gilbert gutting out a series he could have street-clothesed through.
- Brendan Haywood being awesome on and off the court.
- The mainstream media and the NBA establishment's rampant desire for mute, smiley, styrofoamy talking game-slaves over interesting people who offer a glint of personality. The manner in which Cleveland's terrible clatch of column-scribes have eviscerated Stevenson for speaking the truth, oftentimes reaching for generalizations not unlike the douche-bag Cavs fans who sat behind me and chortled in ESPN hats, has truly been a sight to behold. One wonders the purpose of becoming a basketball reporter, as when a player expresses some sort of opinion that isn't 100% vanilla milquetoast, said player becomes the anti-Christ all of a sudden. Now Gilbert is an attention-whore for writing a blog that has revolutionized professional sports on the internet, and these people would rather him be a wordless chimp, chucking up jumpshots after passing three times, lest he possibly make a name for himself.
- The weeks-long phenomenon that is "Crank Dat" getting stuck into your head.
- The ineptitude of Gary Williams's recruitment strategies (hello urria ballers Beasley, Durant, Green, Hibbert, etc. all never having been invited to college park).
- The blossoming of a young, strong-willed, best-offense-shutter-downer pitcher in John Lannan
- A universally well-thought-of NFL draft, where all needs were met; despite what you may have read from meandering hate-scribe La Canfora.
- The inevitable cutting of Larry Hughes from the Bulls followed by him re-signing at the vets minimum to play for the Wiz followed by a career resurgence.
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