Sunday, 31 May 2015
By TIM DAVID HARVEY
Klay motions across court like Cassius. Floating like a basketball butterfly...waiting for his moment from his corner to sting like a bee! When he lands that rainmaker, hay-maker punch he looks like the best. Even if the greatest in the game right now is right by his side. His basketball brother. The Warriors' Most Valuable Player of the National Basketball Association. The chef of this Golden State house, Stephen Curry. This baby-faced assassin is making mice out of all the kings men in this league. Steinback couldn't write it better. And now in this closing, finals chapter of the season he's about to face the one that holds the throne in this game, LeBron James. He's going to need more muscle however to make meat out of the might of this Cavalier, Ohio basketball God. Kid barely looks like he weighs a buck and a half, even with the change that comes with sweating. That can't even buy you soda after a workout in most places, but Curry can still bring you water like what you need after all that heat. Splash! Making waves next to him in the Pacific is the man whose arc is so big and beautiful it's brought a bridge over Oakland to San Francisco that's more all-encompassing and welcoming than the Golden Gate. A man that's got everyone making the flight to this Californian coast for the way he throws it up in the air. Like the rest of everybody's hands in celebration, on his day like a DJ Khaled song...and then they stay there. This kid's so hot like the fire of Curry that he needs an ocean to cool off. Even taking some of the camera shine off Steph like the life of young Riley. At 25 years primed and looking ahead and up to the stars that name the jumbotron in lights of his likeness, there's nothing in Klay Thompson's ceiling but fans. Cool it!
Flame on! When Klay Thompson suits up for battle he may as well be engulfed in his own hot flames the way he runs through this city if fire. As this Human Torch flies through the game like a fireball of NBA Jam like video gaming set on easy, with the sliders turned WAY up. His combustion seems spontaneous but its strategic carnage. After the 52 point game against the Sacramento Kings in January, in which he made a record nine threes, along with a perfect 13 for 13 from the field (matching legend David Thompson like he was related to him), en route to an NBA record beating and breaking 37 points in one third quarter, the Fantastic Four memes where as warranted as they where hilarious. Now in this rebooted age and superhero season this guy is making defenses disappear the way he stretches the floor like a thing you've never seen before. Even in this league of Avengers, X-Men and a galaxy of guards you still have to marvel at what's truly fantastic. This force of nature is the Future Foundation of both California ballclubs and the world of basketball as a spinning, globetrotting ball whole. Alongside Steph, this guy could go from M.I.P. to MVP...and now even better...champion. Even in a House Of Guards league of perfect partner combos that draw lunch lines to the league like John Wall and Bradley Beal, everyone is saying when it comes to brilliant backcourts the west have it best with K and Steph. Even with the on paper looks of Kobe's and Nash's or Payton's (albeit past their prime) and legends like the Detroit Piston, Bad Boys of Isiah Thomas and Joe Dumars, people are also calling these good kids in this mad city the best duo of all-time when it comes to shooting point. To pimp a ballclub. Like Batman and Robin, or Holmes and Watson...yet Thompson is no sidekick now. It's more like Schwarzenegger and Stallone, beating the hell out of you every night...even if these kids look like what Rocky and the Terminator would use for tooth picks. When K.T. adsorbs all this heat around him and inside him, Johnny Storm goes all Johnny Blaze in the methods of this man. Smoking like tical, this guy is ready to win the race like he was running with one of those nitrus, fuel-injected cars. If Steph's fast than Klay's furious...ready to take it to seven.
But this Mr. Fantastic could do it in four. Bringing the brooms to the clean, sweeping party that could leave the King with nothing but dust on the crowns in his trophy room. Even Michael Jordan is impressed with this Human Torch! Isn't that right B? And just like Chris Evans he wants to go all Captain America and be the hero that leads this free world. Klay is just that hot. Automatic like a gun of unlimited bullets and clips. BANG! Zap! Throwing cosmic rays that are out of this world. Setting the infinity stone that is the Oracle of Oakland's Arena on fire. So much so that their may not be any oxygen left in even the roof once all those banners and retirees make the rafters. Can you see about 11? As he flings balls of fire up there, if you look at this player predator in infa-red vision, his heat signature will be the one glowing the brightest the way he autographs the hardwood with his sneakers and signs the dotted line of the box-score, dotting the bottom of the basket. In his element this kid is a important to the wind of change as fire and water. In his generation, it's his game and world that he's setting on fire. Burn out never! Klay has nova heat! Maybe the only thing that can cool down the Human Torch is is his own wet splashes. We dub this part of this Californian nation a superhero because he's exactly that. Exhibiting his torch wielding, inhuman properties and powers, with the iconic Golden Gate in the background like a set-piece to the most magnificent movie moment. Like the dunks off the bench of Igudola, or the potential upside of Harrison Barnes. Coupled with the day that belongs to the Green of Draymond, Thompson's scorching shot and all round wrestling with the rock is just that Chef Curry cooking hot. No wonder they made a meal out of James Harden and his Rockets like the Base God Lil B's court curse. This pack is faultless like the dream of San Andreas. They are the best picture in a league full of big-budget blockbusters in this superhero summer season of monsters and machines. Rookie Coach (and one of the year) Steve Kerr hasn't seen downtown shooting this hot since he was clutch doing it himself in the city of Chicago to help Michael Jordan's greatest of all time charge to Bull-peating championships.
Mychal Thompson knows all about winning in California. Just like Stephen's father Dell Curry knows all about shooting the three-ball. The former number 43, first pick in the '78 draft was a great power forward/center who played for all the wild west best powerhouse from Portlandia to San An, Texas. Yet this former Trail Blazer and Spur truly won and found the glory of Showtime, when he joined Magic and Kareem in Los Angeles in the late eighties, when Hollywood became Lakerland. Cap's former back-up plan was a defensive shield, but now the changing of the guard see's his smaller son be an offensive weapon that even his almost seven-footer size couldn't block out. Thompson senior runs play-by-play for Lakers radio, but you can bet he still follows his junior every move like concerned parents stalking social media and not just when the Warriors are in Laker-town for a coastal, California clash. Pops couldn't be prouder the way his son makes it rain in Southern California, when people said it couldn't happen with all that heat. Wouldn't happen because of this number 11, selected 11th in the draft of '11. But an All-Star, All-Team and record 484 three-pointers shared with his MVP in 2014 sets the record books straight and differently. Now Kevin Love's former Little League teammate in Ohio is going to be the latest thing LeBron hates every time his shoulder releases. James' royal decree says Curry, can't be stopped, but he doesn't want to even get Klay started. If the unstoppable MVP and immovable King end up canceling each other out in this upcoming Cavalier and Warrior Finals then it will be up to Klay or Kyrie Irving to be the ex-factor of this champagne aiming, championship campaign. Now do you remember the way Kyrie shot the hell out of last years champion San Antonio this March in that last quarter and overtime? Well Klay treats the rock and it's place like that every game. And it's time for a new name to be champion now. Time for Cleveland to end the curse, or Golden State their 40 year drought in the Pacific. I know someone who will be wanting to make a splash in a champagne glass. Right now it's more than just Klay's day...it's his time. The guiding light that ignites all that's Golden is the human that bears this torch.
Thursday, 28 May 2015
By TIM DAVID HARVEY
What does early June mean to you? That last exam? The end of school or college maybe? A couple of weeks from that holiday you've been working towards all year? It could be anything but what does early June mean to an NBA player?
It means the final destination of the year for two NBA teams out of sixteen who endured the tough, long season and a play hard or go home playoff campaign. It means that one of these two teams will write their names in the NBA history books where the other team will merely remain an afterthought. It's about the NBA Finals and it will end with the champion team reaping all the glory and the success that every team worked hard for but that only one team can obtain.
It means more than the commercials, no matter how hot they are. It's truly amazing. It means more than the sneakers, no matter how nice those hyperdunks may be. It means more than all the big trades and news stories that dominate the 82 game long season instead of just being a sidebar. It means more than the state of the art, awe inspiring arenas, coupled with the money made off merchandise and the concessions, although there's not much that beats a Friday night big game with a brew and your closest. It means more than the emphatic player introductions, fireworks and in game entertainment, although that does get you fired up. It means more then the cheerleaders, although they do look real nice. It means more than the celebrities in the Jack Nicholson seats, dominating the first rows, although there's not much cooler than seeing Larry David sitting next to Spike Lee.
It means more than the expensive suits, and grown up, dress code envelope pushing fashions of the players arriving to the game. It even means more than the multi-million dollar endorsement deals and recession defying bidding wars for advertising space between timeouts. It even means more than any single player gracing the court that night. With all respect to the elite superstars of the league. It means more than almost every home fan wearing the same players jersey, this is all about every player on the floor and on the bench giving their all-as one-for a common goal. This is because what all it comes down too is the game itself, which for the majority of players, coaches and personnel will be the biggest game of their lives.
It's deeper then the midseason grind of a 10 game road trip. Its more vivid then the dream of a kid emulating a Jordan buzzer beater on the streets, his friend by his side assuming the role of the commentator, line for line like it was an infamous quote from a movie. For the two teams that make it you may have come close and tasted it before, but now you have first class reservations. It doesn't matter how long you've dreamed and waited for this moment you better be ready, because its here now.
No matter what happened this season, no matter how many games previously you won or lost it doesn't matter. No matter which journalist wrote you off or which pundit championed you it doesn’t matter as its all about now. It's all about the next four to seven games. It's about every second from the tip to the buzzer. It's about every loose ball, every hustle, steal, charge, foul, free throw and every point whether made on the scoreboard or on the tone of the series. It's about the game as strategic as chess and as unpredictable and free as Jazz (word to Utah). It's about your heart, your enthusiasm your drive. It's all about how much you really want to win, because if your desires not as strong as your opponents then you simply wont win.
It's all about your chance to go down in history, it's all about those 'amazing' moments. It's all about Magic's junior sky-hook or his playing centre and leading his team to the 'chip in the absence of Kareem Abdul Jabbar. Its all about “Who caught it?”, “Havlicek”! It's about warriors of the game like Willis Reed carrying his team on one leg. It's all about playing hard and prevailing over Bill Laimbeer and the rest of the Detroit Pistons who fight so tough. It's all about balloons falling on your floor with no one there to celebrate because you tempted fate to much in the face of Celtic pride.
It's about defying expectations, breaking rules, going against the grain. It's about not caring that no team has come back from a deficit of so many games, because your not going home tonight. It's about being wrote off completely and ignoring all put downs. It's when a strong team and unit defeats and almost sweeps a team with four Hall of Famer's on it. It's about every game counting. It's all about David beating Goliath at least once, draining it from deep whilst stepping over Tyronn Lue. It's about after a decade of never touching glory crying tears of joy one year to not one year later sitting in a suit and watching your team being eliminated. It's all about worst to first, best to least.
It's about Larry O'Brien, its about those fingers on your hands waiting for those rings. It's all about the same dream you had as a kid. It's all about working on your dream all day long and then bouncing your worn out Spalding against a poster of Larry Bird when it got too dark and cold to play outside. It's that dream that you would of spent all day as a kid chasing if it wasn't for knowing if you didn't respond to the next time your mum called you inside there would be hell to pay. It's about what means the world to you, what gets you out the bed, to the gym, to the court or just even what gets you to subscribe to the NBA League pass. Then again this is just basketball right? After all this is just the NBA Finals, just what you've been waiting all year to watch and just what the two teams have been waiting their whole lives for to play.
Monday, 25 May 2015
By TIM DAVID HARVEY.
Like father, like Bean. This is a league full of extraordinary gentlemen...and the fathers that raised them. The Curry's. The Ewing's. The Hardaway's. So many like the Barry's. The Jon's, Rick's and Brent's. The Dell's. The Seth and Steph's...and of course the Riley's. Who one day could have a life in the WNBA, the way she looks like her dad and the same way this family shoots from three. But what about the Bryant's? Kobe's got a couple of girls himself, but the casual fans among us may forget about his true parentage. Like one of the greatest the rap game has ever seen, Nas having the hip-hop jazz roots of his father, Olu Dara, one of this games greatest came from another hardwood classic. The world may be his now, but one day Kobe 'Bean' Bryant was watching from the sidelines (complete with court sweeper like rapper Common back in Chicago for the Bulls) as his father Joe Bryant, know to most as 'Jellybean' was popping with his sweet hops and shot. Now, hey Joe! How about a taste?
Kobe used to be on his dads back all the time...literally. Or so the 'Muse' says, in Kobe's latest career documentary for 'Showtime' which is really the curtain call review of quite the champion and competitor. Kobe tell us straight up to the camera that when his father would come home with a training table list of injuries and ailments and more cramps than 80's style after a game, he and his siblings would walk up and down their daddy's back to work that stuff out. Who needs Gary Vitti hey? Not when you've got what then was a young Kobe's favorite nightly ritual. Watching his hero come home after a night fighting for his dream and looking up to him with pride and awe. Young Kob' was used to doing whatever it took to help his dad and his hoops career. Philadelphia 76er born and raised, it would be in Europe however that Kobe would spend most of his childhood days. Chilling out, maxing, relaxing all cool. Shooting some bball outside of school. Until this Fresh Prince of L.A.'s life got flipped-turned upside down. But still, Kobe wouldn't go live with his auntie and uncle in Bel-Air, or West Philly? Instead when the plane landed and he came out, it was Europe where his new throne would belong. An Italian job and wherever else his fathers great game and time would take him. 'Hang on lad...I've got an idea'. If the NBA wasn't going to give pops his props, he was going to scour the earth to find it. Taking this game overseas and revolutionizing and doing what all the young Jennings and WNBA stars he coached are doing today. Adding more stamps and approval to his passport and scouting report. Basketball without borders...only blowing more than the doors off.
And we all know what that European exposure and soccer skill did to Kobe and his game. From the savvy way he see's the floor, to the lost in translation way he play-call communicates on it. Like basketball's equivalent of baseball's facial-gesture and grimace, sign-language play-calling. Even if he doesn't have as much of a nose and ear for it these days now the likes of Gasol and Vujacic are gone. Maybe it's time to learn Chinese with Lin? A little bit of culture is good for anyone...even if at the beginning it does seem like too much of a permanent vacation and not just a world tour that the likes of Aersomith would rock and roll with. Still, before Bean senior took the seed of his junior overseas he gave NBA basketball a little bit of his own culture on these high seas of National Basketball. At 6, 9 and a star at Philly's John Bartram high and La Salle University, the Golden State Warriors drafted Joe Bryant in 1975 when Kobe was barely three years old with the 14th pick in the first round. Still after Golden State's lottery ball came up big, they switched tickets with Philadelphia as mighty young Joe himself was given a Sixer cap on his way to career averages of 14.8 points 4.7 rebounds and 1.9 assists capped off per contest. After hitting the big stage, Bryant was going home...and boy did it feel so good. To play in front of his family and friends for four years alongside some of the games greatest like Doug Collins, George McGinnis and some doctor called Julius. It was just the prescription for J.B and on Ering's unit he was the right tonic for an operation that took it all the way to the lifeline of the NBA Finals, where they eventually flat lined against the Portland Trail Blazers 4 game to 2.
Still this Joe was one hell of a smoothly skilled player, running and dunking the floor with American abandon. Especially for his tweening Power Forward and Center position. When he headed to the West Coast-like his own son did on his 1996 draft day, over 20 years later when the Charlotte Hornets stupidly shipped him to some team in Hollywood-Bryant senior played for the Lakers neighbors Clippers. Still, he'd never see Los Angeles as a player, because this was back when the Clips where in San Diego and probably having their nightly sports bulletins read by Champ Kind of the 'Anchorman' Channel 4 New Team or something to that effect. After a "whammy" of a play-by-play each night, Bryant ended up flying high with the Rockets for a few years in Houston, before he'd really take flight. To Europe that is. Seven seasons in Italy made Bryant senior fluent in the European game and Bryant junior fluent in the culture. Just listen to the way he pronounces the names of the places he'd grow up in across the Italian A1 and A2 leagues. Playing for AMG Sebastiani Rieti, Viola Reggio Calabria,, Pistoia, and Reggio Emilia a decade after his NBA draft, from 1984 to 1991 this guy was a star that brought the peach to the vines of Europe as a young Vino was fermenting. If you thought this was just about collecting the zeroes on the end of a cheque, than the numbers of two 53 point games will read you differently. The 60 year old would play into his fifties as smooth as the day he rocked the young mans beard and fro. From a quick bonjour in France (for FC Mulhouse Basket) to a series of stints in the ABA that his early, Sixer game seem catered for (with the Boston Frenzy). Coaching is now this dads staple as he one day may head back to the NBA he's still connected to by being married to Pam Cox (sister of former player Chubby (Joe's nephew John Cox IV also plays pro in France)). In fact he's been in STAPLES with Los Angeles sister team the Sparks of the WNBA two times. Leading them to a 25 and 9 record (before a certain 80's legend called Michael Cooper ran the show), as well as coaching his resume in the ABA and now Japan (you're all familiar with the Tokyo Apache). Where he is the current coach of the Rizing Fukuoka. No wonder Kobe keeps coming back to Asia each Summer. He'll always have the inspiration of his elder statesman as well as his own pride and awe...even in his own winding down father time. This folks, is how number 22 and 23 influenced 24. Because without Jelly, there's no Bean.
Monday, 4 May 2015
By TIM DAVID HARVEY
What you gonna do? Drive through Detroit, Michigan these days and things aren't quite what they seem down 8 mile road. The town that Henry Ford built and Eminem spoke for through microphone still motors on. Even though days like Motown are a part of a yester-you, yester-me past. What's going on? Take a ride through rock city like Mark Wahlberg in the 'Trouble Man', frozen over beginnings of his hit movie 'Four Brothers' and you'll see more life in these lanes. Not burnt out bodies of cars and closed down record stores for a city that was ravaged by the recession more than most. This renaissance city still motors on with music on the car radio through the worlds automotive capital that keeps spinning. Sure like any city there may be some broken glass in car and record shop front windows, but as these warriors tap two Cola bottles together like P. Diddy you can still hear the singing. Chanting, taunting, motivating. "Baaaad booooys...coooome oooout aaaand plaaaay"!
"Bad Boys! Bad Boys! What you gonna do?! What you gonna do when they come for you"!? It doesn't seem like it, but it's a decade ago. 2004, Auburn Hills is rolling with the rock as the palace is finally a place for kings again. Driving like a gunning engine, the Pistons have motored on again back to the gold states of championship glory once again. They've done this by racing past the purple haze of the Los Angeles Lakers yet again, drawing the curtain down on Showtime like an eighties revival as they make another acquaintance reunion with Larry. O'Brien now belongs back with the red, white and blue collar hard work of the United States of America and the National Basketball Association's most underrated city and franchise of hallowed, hallmark history. The gloves are off as Gary Payton is left speechless. The 'Mailman' Karl Malone short of a delivery with his NBA Iron Man like body now encased in Captain America like ice frozen around his knee. All this Hall Of Fame and no trophy in the cabinet as another banner wraps around the Palace. A death of a dynasty is about to happen for even the leagues most devastating and dangerous dynamic duo as the diesel of Shaquille O'Neal can't fuel them past the city that literally creates cars from monster trucks to convertibles. Hey, Kobe how does their gas taste? Because this is a brick wall that even Phil Jackson's Zen couldn't maneuver around. Coach Brown has finally got his Sixer revenge as Larry becomes legend with Larry once again. Leading a new army of Iverson like competitors who have no answer. The battle mask of Richard Hamilton, engraving his opponent with an R.I.P. The long Mr, Fantastic like limbs of wingspan, width of the court, guarding Tayshaun Prince at home in his palace. The two Wallace brothers powering the paint. The afro of Big Ben chiming on the hour and the technical trade testament of 'Sheed that practically brought in a 'chip as part of his package deal blazing a trail from Portland. And of course the Most Valuable Player, Chauncey Billups. The one. Mr. Big Shot. All in all, brothers, champions...Baaaaad Boooooys!
But that was the sequel. 'Bad Boys 2'. Will Smith and Martin Lawrence. A Fresh Prince and a Def Jam. In the Bay era of explosions and bullets. More exciting than cars being dropped off the back of a lorry at a Ferrari in this 'Transformer' age it was a Piston reboot like no other. Yet still the optimal prime of these Detroit horsemen belongs in the past like the Wild West. These guys where so tough they even made the East beast. Sure some sequels don't meet the sophomore slump on a 'Dark Knight' of 'Godfather' like reign, but remember nothing beats the original. What came first and therefore foremost. You can't tell where you're going if you don't know where you're coming from. Exactly that being the former Fort Wayne Pistons founded by the Zollner Corp that manufactured pistons for cars, truck and locomotives (if you don't know, now you know). A Fort that overcame the years where they moved around like the motor oil can, made up original logo. To the times where they made their center circle crest iconic in the golden era age of the B.M. (before Mike) 80's that was all about the Larry and Magic rivalry of the the storied Boston Celtics and Los Angeles Lakers and their even more legendary classic competitiveness, until another team had their say and stay. A team that went form obscurity to outstanding stakes, with a 'Bad Boy' status before that hit movie or hit making record label that brought you the greatest from the Notorious B.I.G. to the invention of the remix. Take that, take that, take that Puff Daddy! Because its Bad Boy for life!
Sean John Combs may have been nicknamed Puffy because of the way he breathed on the basketball floor, but these cats where called 'Bad Boys' because...well, they took your breath away in a whole different way than Berlin in the eighties. Detroit was top gun in their machine age and left everyone else goosed, bringing the fans out their bleachers like ejector seats. They could out collar Boston's green Celtic work and even give the Hollywood Lakers a show in their time. For everyone from Sly Stallone to Jack Nicholson to witness from courtside to the hard work of minimum wage. Oh and when it came to the Chicago Bulls and some kid called Mike, they had their own rules for Jordan. But don't ask them about that. They'll probably have no idea what you're talking about. In a league full of talkers and trash, they let their actions do the talking as they treated their opponent like garbage on the way to the waste paper basket. And boy did these actions speak louder. Those boys beat you and beat you. Oh and if you where ever die hard and death wish crazy lucky to beat them you wouldn't expect a handshake. That's just not their swaggering off court style. That's not what a 'Public Enemy Number One' does when they 'Fight The Power', ran off the power moves of Chuck. Do believe the hype, because these guys had game in the hip-hop age. So much so I'm sure Spike would sit courtside if he wasn't born in New York. A Knick nixing maybe for the man who created Shuttlesworth in the rotten Apple. Jesus was a carpenter. The greatest most powerful men are always hidden behind the labors of trade. Like Springsteen blue jeans, you can always find 'Glory Days' worn into the boot-cut denim of the American dream. Sometimes it isn't just wished for...it's willed for. Worked for!
These Bad Boy, NBA Public Enemies where led by their own Chuck D. In the form of the late great Coach Daly. One of the greatest this game has ever seen with a marker and a dry erase in his team-talk, timeout cipher like circle huddle. A man still to this day honored with more than just a pin or banner in this social-media age of feed forgetting. But when it comes to basketball, not just Dee-troit Basketball, this man is an important part of the timeline in the NBA's Bayeux Tapestry length like long legacy of legend and history. He gave his all until his team had it all too. Just like Joe Dumars. One of the most underrated legends of team basketball history. Who following his integral part as a vital, working cog in the Pistons machine, became an under the hood mechanic for a franchise vehicle that sorely needed someone with the mechanical know how to keep pushing them forward in a changing industry. As an executive for the years, Dumars managed the Pistons like his former coach, Jerry West-ing the team to championship glory. He may not have brought in the likes of Shaq and Kobe, no, no! But instead he brought in who and what BEAT Shaq and Kobe! Take that! Now if you want to talk about real generals in this automatic army than how about the power of 'Zeke? Isiah Thomas. The Point God and one of the founding leaders of the new school who left everyone else with a sob story. From critics to opponents. From kissing Magic on the cheek at the start of games, even after the announcement (to show exactly what the world needed at that time, a simple and moral message of beautiful meaning), to kissing him goodbye afterwards as he left with a championship. Singing into his champagne bottle that this felt like heaven.
Playground playmaking until the hardwood felt like a heaven sent hoop dream, Thomas was the tank engine that motored this city from the highways of hell to the road of glory. Still there was plenty more in the tank if he was cooked, complete with the Chick Hearn fork. Then all you needed to do was heat up Vinnie Johnson off the bench, as 'The Microwave' went nuclear, gone in 60 seconds. Becoming one of the greatest 'Sixth Men' any starting five has ever seen. But if you want to talk about fist fives and famous ones than how about as great a frontcourt force from this truck team that any paint work has seen? Bill Laimbeer may have always looked like someones dad, but he'd bust your ass like you brought his daughter home a half hour after curfew when he told you; "no later then ten". Who gives a damn if it was prom night? Then there was Rick Mahorn, James Edwards and Mark Aguirre...beasts of basketball. Brutal but brilliant. A real B.I.G. three. On the outside the Pistons may have looked like Isiah...generally speaking, but below the hood you saw the real workings behind how well this team ran. Just like the other legends who made their banner names and rafter celebrations here. Guys like scoring power, prowess player Adrian Dantley who was the Grant Hill era, before the Grant Hill era replaced the Bad Boy one in the late nineties. John 'The Spider' Salley. A personality who's comedy united the locker room and a player who's off the bench stand-up play divided the opposition. A Bad Boy player and 'Bad Boys' actor. Just one of the 'Best Damn' people this league has seen...ever! Then of course before the Bull horns and nightly scalp color change that came out of a shook up can, came Dennis Rodman. A guy that wormed himself into this team and into the paint until he grabbed every rebound his other teammates didn't. Before the wild Spurs, Madonna, Michael and the Hollywood homicide of the Lakers, Rodman showed just how crazy he really was in Motown. Crazy amazing! Just like the rest of these blue and whites. Teal, burgundy, gold and black could never replace that. No matter how great Grant Hill was. Then after the sequel and then that brawl, this franchise and city looked for answers in the receding times. From Allen Iverson to Ben Gordon and Charlie V. And let's not forget about Josh Smith. Still it feels like now this team has found its face again for a city that needs a leader like the example of the 'Motor City' show of solidarity jerseys. Let's just hope this new core of Brandon Jennings, Andre Drummond, Reggie Jackson and Jodie Meeks off the assembly line is a catalyst that will convert towards the future. But hey, at least Tayshaun Prince is back in the Palace for his Billups like farewell tour of the road ahead. These kids still rock like their '30 For 30' documentary. No matter how good or ugly the times get they'll always be our Bad Boys. Now are you ready for the trilogy? Because they're back! What you gonna do? They're coming for you!