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Deemed a real prize in a market saturated with talent of such a high level that any edge one can obtain over the competition is sought out and blown up to great proportions, the physical prowess of Greg Oden made him a rare commodity and real prize in 2007. So much so, that he was the number one pick in a draft that included the likes of Kevin Durant. . . So much so, in fact, that Walter Brenham of Portland, Oregon went two weeks without beating his wife upon hearing the news that Greg Oden would be drafted to his beloved Portland Trailblazers, as reported by his eight year old son:
The Trailblazers were a little more than giddy with the notion of a successful future after many failed seasons, apparently just as much as fans of Portland basketball (I say this because I honestly didn't know there were any fans of Portland basketball). And they had every right to be more than a little tight in the britches, with hardly concealed erections: Greg Oden was built like an ox with all the size and bulk necessary to take up space in the paint and clog any potential lanes to the basket. In college he was such a force that many were already touting him to be the next Shaquille O'Neal, for even if things didn't work out and he was just an average basketball player, there was no getting around that much meat and pure brute strength.
In a decadent era bent by referees that couldn't be trusted and a lenient interpretation of the rules that gave an advantage to guards, many said Oden would still dominate. He would disappoint any guards that weaved their way through the defense for a layup with a block or a hefty foul that would make them reluctant to do the same in the future. He would bring glory back to Portland and bring the fickle eye of media back upon them. Portland would swell with wealth. The harsh surrounding lands would be overcome with suburbs and Walmarts would dot the land as far as the eye could see.
I mean, this was some serious American Dream shit we are talking here; pure Horatio Alger.
"Mommy isn't bruised anymore, and Daddy doesn't yell as much. He doesn't give her the bad touch no more. I don't hide under the bed and make a no-no in my pants. I know a mean monster lives under there, but he isn't as scary as Daddy. Greg Oden is my hero."
The Trailblazers were a little more than giddy with the notion of a successful future after many failed seasons, apparently just as much as fans of Portland basketball (I say this because I honestly didn't know there were any fans of Portland basketball). And they had every right to be more than a little tight in the britches, with hardly concealed erections: Greg Oden was built like an ox with all the size and bulk necessary to take up space in the paint and clog any potential lanes to the basket. In college he was such a force that many were already touting him to be the next Shaquille O'Neal, for even if things didn't work out and he was just an average basketball player, there was no getting around that much meat and pure brute strength.
In a decadent era bent by referees that couldn't be trusted and a lenient interpretation of the rules that gave an advantage to guards, many said Oden would still dominate. He would disappoint any guards that weaved their way through the defense for a layup with a block or a hefty foul that would make them reluctant to do the same in the future. He would bring glory back to Portland and bring the fickle eye of media back upon them. Portland would swell with wealth. The harsh surrounding lands would be overcome with suburbs and Walmarts would dot the land as far as the eye could see.
I mean, this was some serious American Dream shit we are talking here; pure Horatio Alger.
Yet, what followed his entrance into the league was a career so sorry he was regarded much like a prized stud in the eyes of a farm hand who could only shake his head at the growing stock of failed offspring spawned from an inferior seed he never believed to be possible: it was only a matter of time before the once touted saving grace and 'golden calf' was taken out back and put out of its misery with all the nonchalance given to a rabid dog. For though Oden had a cranial structure like a caveman, ears like mudflaps, and two-hundred and eighty-five pounds of muscle slapped on muscle, Oden's grace of genes ended there. For all that length and width was built on knees made of peanut brittle, and between those flappy ears was the brain of an ox. Oden was more than willing to break his back under a load he knew he couldn't handle, not from any sense of pride or hard work, but rather a dense stupidity that sought smiles over frowns and pats of encouragement over the harsh pain of the crop without any real understanding as to why.
It was a malady that caused Oden to miss the 07-08 season with a knee injury of such severity it could only be repaired with surgery. It was an impressive debut that had been shattered by a twist of fate. So much for winning. It made the owners bitter, it made Oden bitter, and made the weakest of Trailblazer fans bitter/borderline suicidal. Sure, there were those who were still optimistic, despite being Blazer fans caught in the state of Oregon, and they swelled and grew big with hopes and dreams of the next season. . .
But what happened the following season? Well, Oden did the same thing, this time surviving thirteen scoreless minutes in the first game of his 'rookie' season before he injured his left foot, and though it only took him out of the game for two weeks he returned only to injure his left knee a few games later. And so the wretched folk of Oregon took to drowning themselves while Oden found himself enduring a rate of injury that got him paid to sit on the bench like an oversized towel boy with sasquatch hands and a dim dream to be out there with all the other guys--to one day lace up some sweatshop shoes and go toe to toe with some of the greatest players to ever play the game.
That is of course, if it wasn't for his damn knees--and its only a matter of time before they turn to jelly and he is sent into an early retirement. Which brings us to the now, three years in the league, twenty one games played and a thousand some odd injuries later. . .
Greg Oden's lack of ability on the court was proved yesterday against the Lakers, as it has been on many other occasions. Andrew Bynum, with more experience and natural talent made Greg Oden look like a lumbering imbecile simply going through the motions of an overpaid center (perhaps he has lost his heart after all?). It has reached the point where The Portland Trailblazers should simply cut their losses and trade him for a farm animal--God knows an eighty pound goat would probably fare much better in the league.
I was hoping yesterday's game would end in a bench clearing mob of violence and complete madness. . . I invisioned it starting with Oden falling back on his dumb ox ways, pushing Bynum after realizing how bad he has made him look all night. . . This would entice the Lakers bench to clear, followed by the bench of the Trailblazers, as the game still seemed to weigh under the Ariza/Sanchez hard foul that resulted in Sanchez being carted off to the hospital for a siesta of unknown duration. The physicality of the game and the buzz of the fans would only fuel the fire, anything bound to happen, and when it did it would be ugly. I could see the headlines in the sports page already.
But what happened the following season? Well, Oden did the same thing, this time surviving thirteen scoreless minutes in the first game of his 'rookie' season before he injured his left foot, and though it only took him out of the game for two weeks he returned only to injure his left knee a few games later. And so the wretched folk of Oregon took to drowning themselves while Oden found himself enduring a rate of injury that got him paid to sit on the bench like an oversized towel boy with sasquatch hands and a dim dream to be out there with all the other guys--to one day lace up some sweatshop shoes and go toe to toe with some of the greatest players to ever play the game.
That is of course, if it wasn't for his damn knees--and its only a matter of time before they turn to jelly and he is sent into an early retirement. Which brings us to the now, three years in the league, twenty one games played and a thousand some odd injuries later. . .
Greg Oden's lack of ability on the court was proved yesterday against the Lakers, as it has been on many other occasions. Andrew Bynum, with more experience and natural talent made Greg Oden look like a lumbering imbecile simply going through the motions of an overpaid center (perhaps he has lost his heart after all?). It has reached the point where The Portland Trailblazers should simply cut their losses and trade him for a farm animal--God knows an eighty pound goat would probably fare much better in the league.
I was hoping yesterday's game would end in a bench clearing mob of violence and complete madness. . . I invisioned it starting with Oden falling back on his dumb ox ways, pushing Bynum after realizing how bad he has made him look all night. . . This would entice the Lakers bench to clear, followed by the bench of the Trailblazers, as the game still seemed to weigh under the Ariza/Sanchez hard foul that resulted in Sanchez being carted off to the hospital for a siesta of unknown duration. The physicality of the game and the buzz of the fans would only fuel the fire, anything bound to happen, and when it did it would be ugly. I could see the headlines in the sports page already.
3 DEAD, 1 CRITICALLY INJURED IN NBA BRAWL
The scuffle would be so vicious that Oden would be dead along with two other Blazers so uninteresting and talentless they need not even be mentioned by name. . . Roy would be the victim of a newly torn achilles of such severity rumor would float through the league that retirement had been considered. . . And a week later, a somber procession would flow through the rotten streets of Portland, Blazer fans dripping with rain, dripping with salty tears--some of them clutching young ones who bawl and sniffle and whine like they had been told their parents had been eradicated from the earth and shuffled off this mortal coil not a minute prior.
Such are the thoughts of a sports fan during the playoffs. They are vicious and mean--but at least I can admit it, which is more than Walter Brenham can say. . .
Congratulations Trailblazers, you're now just another team on the list of epically retarded teams caught underneath the woe of bad luck and dreadful decisions. Your history allows for such a dignified distinction. Take for instance the early to mid-nineties, when your team, The Blazers, were literally blazers, with a majority of your players getting caught with dope, namely Staudomire and Rasheed Wallace. It appears that such a habit has even reached the front office, as choosing Oden over Kevin Durant, a player who has played three times as many games during which he has averaged twenty-two points a game (as opposed to Oden's 9) and has averaged just as many rebounds despite being three inches smaller and a small forward, is no doubt a bit of dopery even Cheech and Chong shake their head at.
You're credentials are quite extensive:
It is for these reasons that iR declares you epically retarded.
Congratulations Trailblazers, you're now just another team on the list of epically retarded teams caught underneath the woe of bad luck and dreadful decisions. Your history allows for such a dignified distinction. Take for instance the early to mid-nineties, when your team, The Blazers, were literally blazers, with a majority of your players getting caught with dope, namely Staudomire and Rasheed Wallace. It appears that such a habit has even reached the front office, as choosing Oden over Kevin Durant, a player who has played three times as many games during which he has averaged twenty-two points a game (as opposed to Oden's 9) and has averaged just as many rebounds despite being three inches smaller and a small forward, is no doubt a bit of dopery even Cheech and Chong shake their head at.
You're credentials are quite extensive:
- Staudomire, Wallace, Woods -- all arrested for marijuana possession. . . Staudomire twice.
- Woods -- pleads guilty to animal abuse for staging dog fights in his home
- Ruben Patterson -- caught up in sexual assault charge, now a registered sex offender
- Jermaine O'Neal traded for Dale Davis (lulz)
- Arvydas Sabonis leaves team after having towel thrown in his face by teammate, Wallace
- Zach Randolph and Ruben Patterson involved in fist fight during practice (nice team unity)
- Wallace suspended after threatening a referee
- Rose Garden declares bankruptcy (2007), simply no one willing to go to games for fear of actually being seen attending a Trailblazers game
- 2005-2006 season, Blazers set a leagues worst 21-61 record (lulz)
- Blazers pick Greg Oden over Kevin Durant
The only trail the Trailblazers have blazed is the one leading toward obscurity, failure, and epic retardation.
It is for these reasons that iR declares you epically retarded.
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