Lord Help Me. I Can't Get Enough JR Smith!

If you read this blog back in its heyday when I posted more than once a month, you know of my fondness for JR Smith. I mean the boy had Spongebob slippers that were 5 sizes too small for him, he bought his first house in New Orleans only to be kicked out of the master bedroom by his parents, and he read Harold and the Purple Crayon. How could you not love him? (Don't answer that, Byron Scott.) He was the living embodiment of the term 'childlike insouciance.'

Now 5 years later, for better or for worse, he still is. Note the grandstanding in the pictures above. Then, note the score and the time. Classic JR. He really can't help himself. Just look at his face in the picture on the right! That was right after he made a reverse dunk. Some people thought he was gloating over his old coach Bryon Scott, but he's actually signaling to someone on his own bench -- George Karl maybe? Is it mature? Hell no. Is it kind of an asshole thing to do? For sure. Is it totally and 100% JR? Absolutely! And he's loving every second of it.

Herein lies the difference between JR Smith and Carmelo Anthony. When JR's out there swaggering and acting a fool in the 4th, that's really JR just being JR. He's not going to apologize for himself...rather George Karl will be out there crying, "We're humble!" til he's all red in the face. (George Karl does not get blue in the face. Trust me, it gets red.) Melo, on the other hand...he's supposed to be top dog. In his postgame tonight, he even said,

"It is my house. What do you want me to say? Chauncey moved in with me."

As top dog, the dog should wag the tail, meaning the team should take on the characteristics of their supposed leader. In Melo's case, the tail wags the dog. Right after JR started jacking 3s and made that reverse dunk, guess who wanted to take part in the fun and started shooting 3s himself. Mr. Chauncey-moved-in-with-me. If you're gonna walk the walk (strut the swagger?), have the balls to back it up. But Melo, in classic one punch and run away/the weed was in my bag but it's not mine Melo form, doesn't want to be seen as a bad guy. He's tough, mind you. See the tatts? Remember the cornrows? Stop snitchin? He's real, damnit! But don't worry, marketers. He's just as likable as Lebron or DWade, and he respects the Hornets. Umm, no you don't. Your four shots with a huge smile on your face with less than 5 minutes left and a 20 point lead show you don't. How many shots did Chauncey take during that same time? Zero. The thing is, I don't give a shit about that. If you want to run up the score and the other team isn't stopping you, go right ahead. But don't fucking apologize or give some lame ass, halfhearted excuse afterward. It's fake and insulting and not JR.

Basically, JR Smith > Carmelo Anthony.

Chauncey Billups on JR in his postgame:

"JR's definitely a work in progress. He's young. He has the ability to be a perennial All Star. He's our 6th starter and he plays with a starter's swagger."

Thou Shalt Not Interrupt Jimmy Goldstein

The one video out there of Jimmy Goldstein speaking and these guys talk over him as he patiently tries to answer their questions. Apparently, they went to the Oprah School of Journalism. Sigh. I guess I should just be glad they recognized him and got him on camera.

I've only done this once before, but I'm establishing another New Rule on NBA's Finest: Thou shalt not interrupt Jimmy Goldstein.

Superfly Jimmy Goldstein

Apparently, this is what it says on his actual business card. In my mind, this is what it looks like. Some people want sparkly unicorns on their screens. I want Jimmy in all his regalia. Full Jimmy Goldstein post to follow.

Photo Source: Jimmy Goldstein via ESPN.com*

*Note: There was some confusion over the above graphic being Jimmy's actual business card. It's not. I made it based on the ESPN.com article I read, using the picture Jimmy provided for the article.

And This Is Different From Groupie Love How?

I really don't need to add yet another magazine to my reading list, but when I see one with Will Demps on the cover...well really, what's a girl to do. This is the premiere issue of SET Magazine, the vanity project brainchild of Mrs. Samari Rolle. According to the website:

"Our mission is to provide an intimate look at professional athletes lives as they endure hardships, overcome failures and celebrate their success in their perspective professions. We get up close to take an in-depth look at otherwise classified information."

I didn't realize the failures and successes of athletes in their respective professions were classified. I'm glad SET came along to unclassify that info - ie, Will Demps being the Texans' secret weapon despite being released by them. Amazing.

Anyway, one of the NBA's "nice guys" - Antawn Jamison - is profiled in the mag along with his wife, Ione. Jamison has a squeaky clean reputation, has been married to the same woman for 5 years, and has kids born well after the first 9 months of marriage. On paper, this seems like a model marriage, especially by NBA standards, so I was curious to read what SET unclassified. I should've just stopped at the pictures of Will.

SET: What's the last romantic thing you did for each other?

Ione: Antawn is the best gift giver ever. Just Monday, he upgraded my diamond earrings [from two to three carats]. He went to Vegas, and I didn't even know he'd taken them with him.

SET: How does she spoil you?

Antawn: She gives me little gifts all the time. I really wanted this Louis Vuitton backpack and I couldn't find it anywhere, and she went and got it made for me.

Seriously, is this what romance boils down to - a bigger pair of diamond earrings and a Louis Vuitton backpack? Regardless of the state of the economy, what the fuck? Groupies trade sex for material goods. Shouldn't marriage/love/romance go beyond groupie love? What is so romantic about buying shit when one spouse's yearly salary - $16,360,090 for 2007-2008 - makes buying shit limitless? Before you say, "But that just shows they don't spend their money on all that all the time so it is romantic when they do," let me stop you, future much-younger-second-or-third-wife-of-some-rich-man. Let me also discount the notion that I think money is bad or diamond earrings are bad. But if your romance is driven by the same accumulation of shit that drives groupie love, how is your love any different?

Photo/Article Source: SET Magazine