Have you ever seen anything so despicable, in the eloquent words of Daffy Duck?
Disregard last month’s blind date to a wild boar with prominent yellow tusks and splotches of hairy moles, and your answer should be a definitive no.
Let’s just say I would have rather taken a sponge bath with Godzilla and given him a foot massage than witnessed Terrible Tuesday.
The Los Angeles Lakers throttled, then spanked, then mutilated those peppy Minnesota Timberwolves in game five of the Western Conference playoffs 120-90 in the Target Center and marched them to bed without milk and cookies. Try throwing them a friggin’ bone and it would taste like prime rib right about now.
Last night was U-G-L-Y with a barf stain dangling at the end of that Y. Phew.
Cover these T-Wolves with bloodstained sheepskin and feed them to the, uh, wolves. Minnesota’s Timber-pups fell apart faster than the first little piggy’s house of straw. These Wolves have suddenly grown snouts and curly-q tails. What happened to teamwork? Playing hard? Making shots? Defense, anybody?
Kevin “No Ticket Admission” Garnett slunk away with a tepid 25 points and 16 rebounds. Wally “End of World” Szczerbiak had four turnovers and four points in Tuesday’s first half. He has 17 TOs in five games. Sparkplug Troy Hudson settled for 14 points.
But Los Angeles cannot come out of this royal thrashing unscathed.
Everything about that city drips with pure evil. La La Land isn’t close to hell, it is Hell’s most populated and most catastrophic metropolis.
The Lakers should be called the Fakers, because that’s all they do well. And they live in the town that’s just more crooked than injured L.A. forward Rick Fox’s greasy, curled locks.
These Fakers waltzed and stumbled through the 82-game regular season like a three-dollar whore tipsy on Iowa State men’s basketball coach Larry Eustachy’s beverage of choice: Natty Ice Light. They make the playoffs and suddenly the Fakers think they’ve transformed into the Sports Illustrated swimsuit cover model about to crash the Pope’s tea party.
If these Lakers squeeze by Minnesota, then inch past the San Antonio Spurs, and then squirm under the Sacramento Kings, then this will be certain: the Lakers will be the most undeserving NBA champions ever.
The Lakers don’t play basketball. They could give a hippopotamus’ hairless two-ton bum about basketball. As long as they’re winning at something – anything – it’s all right by their shoddy standards of professionalism. They could triumph at shuffleboard, and that would be acceptable.
The 21st Century version of the Lakeshow resembles a three-ring circus: Head Coach Phil Jackson is the pompous ringleader, Shaquille O’Neal is the elephant who lives on peanuts, and Kobe Bryant is the one-trick pony. Nice dunk, Kobe, but you’re still a whiny bitch. That’s what all the stallions say.
These Lakers are a scourge of humanity. And the Timberwolves are making them look even filthier. Even the bad actors need a supporting cast.
– Eliav Appelbaum is the Daily Nexus sports editor. Timberwolves will still win this series in seven games. L.A. can go to hell.