Sunshine and Olly

Hi, Everyone!

How was your weekend?

Thank you so much for reading!

Seriously

I mean it.

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When I dropped this blog on Friday, and announced my goodbye at A Photo Editor, I was serious.

You’ll get no false modesty from me.

(Nor passive aggression.)

I launched this blog as an art project, for myself. (And my family, because Jessie’s already asking for the keys to the WordPress.)

I had no idea if people who read me at APE, or knew me from the NYT, would bother clicking over to this little venture.

Having never done it before, how could I know?

But having established an audience, (again, Thank You!) it means I’ve got to take you into consideration too.

Clearly, I’m going to write about what I want.

That’s the point.

Unlike the old column, though, not sure the “rants” will be as long, nor will there always be one before I GET TO THE POINT.

Because I’ll be writing about so many topics, I assume not all of you will want to read about everything.

I’m going to share my FAMOUS PIZZA RECIPE, but if you don’t cook, you might skip it.

And when I write about subjects that appeal to many, but certainly not all, (especially in a bougie blog,) I’ll do my best to give context.

And make it seem relevant.

Like now.

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I love sports, and always have.

It was the language of my home, and of my community.

Youth sports dominated the after-school lives of all my suburban friends, just like gym class was the best part of the day.

Competition, sure.

But teamwork.
Camaraderie.
Achievement.
Hard Work.
Improvement.
Winning!

It was great.

We played sports, watched sports, and read about sports.

The NYT and Asbury Park Press provided all the box scores and columnist opinions I needed, back in the day.

(And here I am, an occasional sports columnist.)

Just so you know, at this point, it’s not new for me.

I wrote for both 7amkickoff, and LeGrove, for multiple seasons, and they’re among the best Arsenal blogs out there.

My son Theo will attest that I’m so good at predicting what will happen, and what the announcers will say during all games, that we had to invent a way to mark my successes.

A point system.

(Now everyone tries to get points, and Theo’s really good at it.)

Just yesterday, I got 10 points.

It’s the highest score ever given.

(Normally, you just get one at a time.)

The dime was because I successfully predicted, to the player, who the Nets would/could get when they traded my nemesis, Kyrie Irving. (Seeming narcissist, possible anti-semite, known malcontent, vibe killer.)

I was so excited, when I heard the news, I actually kissed the ground.

No.

That’s not true.

Last week, I made a Twitter declaration I’d kiss the ground, if it got to 48 degrees F yesterday, after three consecutive, cold, dispiriting months.

And it did.

Still, I said to my wife, on a walk, “I don’t feel like kissing dirt today.”

I had decided to blow it off.

But when I heard Kyrie was traded, I realized that I had to make good.

(Life rule: Never piss off Karma, especially when she/he/they is being kind to you.)

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Saturday night, (which was the day after Kyrie’s trade request went public,) I broke it down for Theo.

He had been anxious to know, so much so that as the news broke on Friday, (and I had been busy, you know, ending my 13 year career, and starting this blog,) he called me from school.

My kid is amazing.

Brilliant.
Loving.
Awesome.

But he’s also 15.

So when the phone rang during school hours, I expected it to be problems, or maybe good wishes, or compliments.

Maybe, a, “How does it feel, Dad?”

Instead, I got, “Is it true Kyrie demanded a trade?”

(Teenagers.)

As I was saying, the night before, I broke it down.

The Nets don’t want to trade Kevin Durant, who was playing as NBA Alpha Dog, in December/January, until Jimmy Butler rolled up on his leg.

(Did you say sorry, Jimmy?)

That killed this incarnation of the Nets, who’d just gone 18-2.

They were breathtakingly good.

But still, I hate-watched, because Kyrie is just that awful.

Coach killer.
Franchise killer.
Suspected anti-semite.
Known asshole.
And he also trolls the media.

Now, if you understand a “certain type of person,” like Kanye West, you’ll know to expect irrational decisions, not logical ones.

And the level of calculation can be stupefying.

After Kyrie was suspended for refusing to apologize for spreading hate, he came back, pretending to be contrite.

If you know one thing about Kyrie Irving, he’s never contrite.

I knew it was an act.

He’d been told to keep his mouth shut, and play out of his mind, by HIS people.

Because it was a strategy.

He donated a LOT of money to student tuition, via GoFundMe, and got good PR.

Multiple times.

(Drip marketing.)

And he was seemingly “a good teammate,” saying the right things to the press.

He had an alley-oop, put-back dunk that lit the NBA on fire for a day.

He leads the league in 4th quarter scoring.

These were statements of intent.

But for what?

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The clue came two weeks ago, after the Nets beat the Knicks for the 9th straight time.

It was all innocuous enough.

They asked Kyrie if it was fun beating the Knicks again, because of the rivalry.

He seemed nonchalant, (as is his way,) and said, “If the NBA calls it rivalry week, then it’s a rivalry.”

And I thought…

SHOTS FIRED! SHOTS FIRED!

This is a man that famously lit tens of millions of dollars on fire, because of his principles.

He’s always right, in his own mind.

So to give a quote like that, was the equivalent of telling (anyone paying attention) that it was all pretend.

Playing good soldier, for a plan.

And it worked.

Thank Fucking Goodness!

The deal was, Kyrie couldn’t get traded in the summer, or get a free agent deal, because his vaccine crazy was too recent.

He needed to rehabilitate his image, but then stepped it it with the Jews.

So what do you do?

You rehabilitate your value, to create options.

Done.

Then you make sure to time your bomb exquisitely.

Again, Done!

Sean Marks had enough time to maneuver.

If you’re really lucky, the GOAT, LBJ, makes come hither eyes your way.

If you’re even luckier, the historically great Western conference is weak, and there is a scrum to get into the play-in, or the playoffs.

Real money is on the line for Billionaires.

The Buss Family.
Steve Ballmer.
The new guy in Phoenix.
And, last but not least, Uber-famous for his competitive spirit, favorite Shark Tank celebrity owner… Mark Cuban.

So it was to be a 4-way-stand-off.

Who would pony up the best offer?

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And that’s what I told Theo Saturday night.

It went like this:

In order to keep Durant, you have to stay competitive for a championship. Which means you can’t lose a point guard, and not get one back.

Plus, you need to keep stacking talent to support him.

And everyone says the Nets need a 4/PF who can body up and shoot.

So the best trade gets you that, if not more.

Who has what, in the 4 team scrum?

That’s all it took.

The Mavs were desperate for a Luka partner, and had Spencer Dinwiddie, who was a Nets Fan favorite for 5 years.

And Dorian Finley-Smith, a strong 3D guy the stats nerds love.

The salaries almost fit.

By Sunday, I had it dialed up in the trade machine, and tweeted that Dinwiddie had to be the/a prime target.

Who would give up the most?

Would the Clippers offer Norman Powell?

Apparently, we’re now told they didn’t.

Would the Suns offer Jae Crowder?

Apparently, we’re told they did, but wanted to attach the poison pill of Chris Paul’s contract.

The Laker and Clipper offers were weak, and Mark Cuban went all in.

So the Nets are more complete, and have more assets.

For a guy they couldn’t give away in summer, they got a restocked pantry, and FREEDOM from the drama.

There are reports the Nets will also try to trade for more immediate star power, to re-court Durant.

Then again, this being the 2023 NBA, it’s totally possible that
Durant has been traded, while I’ve been writing for the past 3 hours.

(Not just this. If a sports blog post took me 3 hours, there would be something wrong.)

In the NBA, (and in sports in general,) anything can happen.

Which is why we watch!

The biggest drama, on a global stage, with the best athletes, and it connects right into our childhood-nostalgia-memory banks.

Now do you understand why I’m hooked?