| | |  | | Keyon Dooling was drafted by the Magic, but, poof, now he's a Clipper. |
As I watched the NBA draft Wednesday night, there were a number of things
that struck me as humorous, entertaining, or downright odd.
For instance, I have never seen somebody so happy about going to New Jersey.
Not the team. The State. I mean, when I first saw Kenyon Martin shedding
those big juicy tears, I thought he was crying because he had to go to New
Jersey. It wasn't until later that I realized he was shedding tears of joy.
Usually, I thought those tears were reserved for when you are crossing the
border -- on the way out.
After Martin was tabbed first, I thought I was watching a rerun of Romper
Room. Ten straight underclassmen taken, several of whom could not go over to
J.D. Hoyt's in downtown Minneapolis to get a drink and celebrate afterwards.
It was like: I see Stromile, and Darius, and Marcus and Mike. And over there
I see DerMarr and Chris and Jamal, and Jamal's son trying to eat Craig
Sager's microphone, and I see Joel getting booed, and Keyon and Jerome. OK, kids, let's stand up and say the Pledge of Allegiance.
You know who should have been crying? Darius Miles. He thinks he's going to
Chicago. He thinks he's going to Orlando. And he gets taken by the Clippers.
Miles' high school team in St. Louis is better than the Clippers. The
Clippers? Talk about a letdown. It's like a blind date with a movie star, and
Whoopi Goldberg shows up at your door.
Then they had Miles' mother along for the interview, and talked about how she
had been driving a bus for the past 16 years. I was wondering if maybe Darius
getting drafted third means his mother gets to drive the Clippers' bus. I
heard it was a school bus. Of course, Donald Sterling wouldn't pay her -- but
what the hell, it's the NBA.
I loved watching Charles Barkley. While John Thompson loved the heart and
desire of every single player in the draft, and Rick Majerus made every
player sound as if they would change the face of basketball, Barkley railed
on how bad an organization the Clippers were. Of course, it was hard to take
Chuck seriously, sitting in that oversized chair looking like Alfred
Hitchcock.
The best part about Charles ripping the Clips was watching Thompson's
overzealous reaction, mostly because Thompson interviewed for the Clips'
coaching job. He laughed so hard either because he knows how screwed up the
Clips are, or because he is going to take the job and he was covering up his
own embarrassment.
After Miles was taken, Marcus Fizer was selected, and the cameras panned to
his mother saying, "I don't believe it." What do you mean she doesn't
believe it? Hasn't she been reading the papers? Hasn't she been looking at
mock drafts? Ever since the end of the NCAA tournament, in early April, Fizer
has been projected as a top five pick. And she can't believe it? Wait'll she
gets a load of her boy signing a $6 million contract, she'll have a heart
attack.
Perhaps the most entertaining place in the world on draft night is the famous
-- or infamous, I'm not sure which -- Green Room, where all the players wait
for their names to be called. I wonder if they call it the Green Room because
of all the money the players are about to make.
You ever notice all the girlfriends in the Green Room? How many you think are
going to be around next year?
I wonder if Iakovos Tsakalidis got there and said, "I thought they said Greek
Room, not Green Room."
And it's great to watch the players leave the Green Room and head for the
stage, and each and every time, without fail, the person escorting the player
to the stage has to tell the player to pull his cap up so his face can be
seen. You would think, watching, that somebody at some point would get the
hint. DON'T PULL THE HATS DOWN OVER YOUR FACE. You look like the kid in Fat
Albert.
And when they get up there, is it just me, or does David Stern always look
like one of the Lollipop Kids in the Wizard of Oz?
And let's talk about the broadcast. Now, I know it is difficult to fill four
hours of time with a variety of entertaining mumbo jumbo. But c'mon. Some of
the stuff is ridiculous.
For instance, Sager asked Joel Przybilla, who played other sports as a youth,
"How athletic are you?" Well, let's see, he just got drafted into the NBA, a
pretty exclusive club, I'd say he's pretty athletic, don't you think, Craig?
I think Przybilla should have asked Sager, "How articulate are you?"
And just for the record: When people start describing a player as a
"winner," that generally is a euphemism for, "He can't play." If he had
other attributes, they would talk about them, but since he has none, they
call him a "winner." If I remember correctly, Trajan Langdon was a
"winner." Enough said.
And finally, while the NBA draft is one of my favorite days of the year, full
of excitement and anticipation, I am going to give the NBA some advice so
others could enjoy it as much as I did: Wherever you hold the next draft,
make sure the host team has a pick before No. 51.
Frank Hughes covers the NBA for the Tacoma (Wash.) News-Tribune. He is a regular contributor to ESPN.com.
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