Rip Hamilton has it all over Ray Allen

Yeah, I love the 80s and all female bands named after NFL teams. So, in an ode to Richard Hamilton, I'd like to call in the services of the J-E-T-S, Jets Jets Jets.

Ray Allen spent three eventful seasons at the University of Connecticut, and was, by all accounts, one of the greatest players in the school's recent storied history. He was tremendous and instrumental in defeating Allen Iverson and the Georgetown Hoyas for the Big East championship and even graced the cover of a prominent basketball magazine that boldly proclaimed that he was the next Jordan. (What!?!)

But how many national championships did he win?
How many Finals Fours did he participate in?

ZERO! A big fat goose egg.

Like the man that preceded him, Rip Hamilton also attended UConn and played the lead role as shooting guard for Jim Calhoun's team. He was generally regarded as a clutch player, but too skinny to be respected. He had one of the great last-second shots in NCAA history against Washington in the battle of the Huskies back in 1998, propelling him in the eyes of many a couch potato (me included) that picked his team to advance in the tourney. But then came 1999 and the Final Four against THE Ohio State Buckeyes (since erased from the record books) and the previously unbeatable Duke Blue Devils. Rip came up big in both games (not Khalid El-Amin big, but the "royal" big), winning the F4 Most Valuable Player and giving Calhoun his first national title.

To Calhoun, Ray Allen was like the hot cheerleader that wouldn't put out. Sure, she was considered pretty and likeable. But every time you tried to take it to the next level with her, she always let you down. Rip, on the other hand, was like the softball player that you hung out with, considered a good friend, but never really thought of banging until one fateful night when you both had a little too much to drink. She felt bad for you because the cheerleader was such a cold fish, so she popped your cherry for you. And you'll always remember her for it.

On to the NBA...

Ray Allen exploded on the scene in a multi-player deal that landed Stephon Marbury (Ha!) in Minnesota to play alongside Kevin Garnett, while Jesus Shuttlesworth got sent to the abyss known as Milwaukee to beg for the ball from Big Dog Glenn Robinson. It would be fair to say that Ray was best known during these years for his gangbang in the movie "He Got Game" before he was permanently and finally replaced at the shooting guard position by Michael Redd, alumnus of the aforementioned Buckeyes. He subsequently got shipped to Seattle, where he jacked up more 3s than Jason McElwain.

Mercifully, Ray Allen ended up in Boston playing third fiddle to Kevin Garnett and Paul Pierce - where he has tried his Sunday best to blow series' against the Atlanta (???) Hawks and the dreadful Cleveland Cavaliers by missing every shot as if it were the last of a championship game he'll never play in.

How many championships has he won, you say? Check the front of a Woody Hayes hat.

Rip has had an entirely different NBA career filled with.... (gasp).... actual success - even though he came into the league without much fanfare or parade. After he was stuck in the quagmire known as the Washington Wizards playing for and along with a well-known gambling addict and narcissist (cough cough MJ), he finally got moved to Motown to form one of the best backcourts in the league with Chauncey Billups. He made the face mask cool again and actually won an NBA championship against the stacked Lakers in 2004. (a team that will unmercifully beat Ray Allen and the Celtics this year in the Finals).

The Score:

Richard Hamilton - One NCAA title, One NBA title, one cool-looking mask.
Ray Allen - Ummm.... (chirp, chirp)

Lakers-Celtics

Everyone wants to see the Lakers and the Celtics in the NBA Finals. You want to see it. That douchebag that calls himself the Sports Guy wants to see it. Len Bias and Reggie Lewis want to see it. You can be damn sure David Stern wants to see it.

Hell, I even want to see it. (more on this later)

But to what length is the NBA willing to go to get these two teams to the Finals? Anyone that has watched the Conference Finals so far knows that the officiating has been unbalanced. Brent Barry certainly knows its been unbalanced. I'm watching Pistons-Celtics Game 5 right now, and I'm telling you that the scales are not even.

Consider just for a second that the Pistons' most consistent player and MVP of Game 4, Antonio McDyess, picked up 6 fouls playing the same game as Kevin Garnett - including one extremely shady illegal screen call. They (the NBA) had to get him on the bench and eventually out of the game. There's simply no one wearing green that can guard him (yes, I'm talking about you Kendrick Perkins). But it's even more frustrating when you see KG late in the game throw a shoulder (he calls that a pick) into Chauncey Billups with 6 seconds left on the shot clock to free up Ray Allen for a huge shot. McDyess would have been called for a flagrant. For Kevin Garnett, it was simply the biggest play of his career - which really isn't saying shit.

I understand what the NBA is doing, but they really don't or shouldn't need to do it. I don't want to see Lakers-Celtics because of the ridiculous white cream running down the leg of middle-aged men masquerading as nostalgia. I want to see it because they really are the two best teams in the leauge. So why would they need help? Simple answer: David Stern is an insecure vagina.

The only question really left to be answered at this point: Will Stern call an audible for the Celtics to take the title, or is he just satisfied getting his (wet) dream matchup?

Athlete Bullshit

I still remember the first time I heard that then-Packers RB Najeh Davenport dropped a bomb in his girlfriend's laundry basket. For most people, the story probably caused them to cringe or maybe even throw up a little bit in their mouth. I simply laughed and wished that I had thought of it first. The ultimate revenge.

It was as if Grumpy Davenport had walked in on his girlfriend tongue-kissin' another man on his mouth like Biz Markie. But, in reality, he probably just found out that she was involved in a gang bang with Beta House. And, like any man in that situation, his first inclination was probably to either kick some ass, cry in a beer, or both. But he's stronger than that. Instead, he harnassed his anger... combined it with hot wings, coffee, and some Wisconsin cheese... then released all over his ex-girlfriend's stained panties and sweaty used bras. Bravo.
At that moment when I heard the story, Grumpy became an instant cult hero.

Then he decided to deny it - while at the same time taking a plea deal because a trial would have been too costly. I call bullshit.

Number One: If you are so embarassed by the accusation that you had a normal everyday bodily excretion (albeit in a closet), then how much money wouldn't you willing to pay to prove the accusation wrong?

Number Two: What's so embarassing about pulling off the ultimate revenge on your ex - likely on top of the same thong she was pushing to the side during the double team? Stand up and be proud Najeh - Take a fucking bow!

By denying it, while taking a plea deal, Najeh completed wasted his revenge. His girlfriend cheats on him - and now he probably had to make restitution for the panties he ruined by buying her new thongs in which to whore herself. Sleep well Grumpy. You lost.

But why should anyone be surprised? Athletes and sports figures are simply afraid to be seen as normal human beings (as normal as using poop for revenge can be). That's why guys like Ben Roethlisberger and Matt Leinart use their PR people to stave off criticism of their drinking habits. That's why Mike Piazza and Jeff Garcia both married Playboy playmates. That's why Chris Berman hasn't embraced the leather story. They can't be themselves in public. And it's time to call them all out for dropping so much (bull) shit.