NBA Talking Points: Where The Hawks Are Coming To Dinner

Yesterday, writing about this amazing shot from Monta Ellis, I noted the following:

To say that the future was bleak with Gilbert would be understating it. Things were going to get really, really painful over the next few years with Arenas. This was a city that worshiped him. His fall from grace has been swift the past few weeks, but it would have happened anyway. It was only a matter of time before the fans in Washington realized that he was slowly killing the team. But now, rather than a gradual decline into misery, it’s all happened at once.

In a matter of weeks, Wizards fans have had to accept that Gilbert Arenas could never be a franchise player. It happened because of something off the court—over-shadowing problems on the court that Wiz fans would have acknowledged eventually—but that’s beside the point. Wizards fans understand: it’s time to let go of Gilbert. And because of this felony charge, and Gilbert’s impending guility plea, the franchise will likely be able to void Gilbert’s contract, and re-build about five years earlier than expected. Rather than five seasons of gritting our teeth, pretending that we can win with Gilbert, and gradually realizing the futility of it all, the Wizards get a fresh start. That’s not just lucky; it’s a freaking miracle.

A few weeks ago, when the 76ers came to D.C., I was lucky enough to meet a few of the players afterward. Of all of them, the conversation that stands out most was with Samuel Dalembert. Because two of my roommates in college were Haitian, just like Sam Dalembert.

But today, that whole conversation feels so different. As the world begins to process the crushing losses suffered in Haiti, I can’t help feel for Dalembert, too.

There are very few certainties in life, but here’s one: if your team signs Vince Carter, get ready to shake your head.

At least ten times during a given season, you will look up and see Vince writhing on the floor, only to see him gamely hop up, and gingerly walk off the court, milking the moment for all it’s worth. The first couple times, you’ll be breathing a sigh of relief. Then, once you recognize the pattern, let the head shaking begin!

For the past nine months, I’ve been waking up to the same damn alarm clock. Whatever the generic tune is on blackberries, that’s been my alarm. At first, it drove me completely insane. I hated it more than anything else in the world. Which is to say, it was like any other alarm clock.

But then, sort of like the Stockholm syndrome, I’ve gotten weirdly accustomed to it over the past few months. When you set an alarm every single day, after a while, it just becomes ingrained white noise in your daily routine. The problem? I can sleep through white noise. Quite easily, actually. Every day, I sleep through at least two or three alarms before I wake up panicked. Sometimes, it’s worse, and I’m late. And that sucks.