Infinitely Retarded: Yet Another Siren of Retardation: Jeff Van Gundy

Jeff Van Gundy was declared legally retarded upon birth. He came out all cries and slime, a disgusting discolored thing sprung forth from the crevice of a woman who upon seeing him found him to be the biggest regret in her life. He had eyes like a bullfrog, with a head squished in on both sides, and when he cried bubbles of unknown substances foamed about his curled lips; a physical reminder of the stench which crawled up his throat and came out his mouth whenever he opened it.

"Holy sheep shit," the head physician said, and he never said that. He nearly dropped him.

The doctors found that no matter how hard they tried, no matter how malleable newborns heads are said to be, Jeff's was as hard as a rock, and was throughout the rest of his life an oddly shaped rotten egg.

Look, a shit sandwich.

Although it was 1846, it was still frowned upon to get rid of children. At least if you weren't rich enough or if they were of the same skin color, so Jeff Van Gundy's mother took him (grudgingly,) and raised him to be the complete and utter moron he is today. Each day, he would be served his oatmeal for breakfast, which he didn't eat as much as he drowned in, and after a good cleaning (again for the third time already), he'd skip on his merry way off into the wilderness to hopefully catch typhoid or get bitten by a snake.

His childhood really was troublesome for his mother, for Jeff kept on living. The doctors hadn't given him many years to live, due to his apparent retardation, but still the boy kept living, kept growing, to the point where each laugh became scornful in her ears, a constant reminder that he was still around and not only that but healthy enough to laugh! To where he'd go out the door in the morning and come back in the afternoon, all scraped up and dirty from play outside, from wrestling in the dirt, from impromptu races from the shed and back. . . It became apparent he wasn't any sickly child soon to die, but rather a normal boy, with a lacking brain and an oddly shaped head.

Darn. No really. Shucks.

Much to his mother's dismay, Jeff Van Gundy grew up, and without any medical scares or tearful nights 'worried' about him dying. Not so much as a high fever. He even went on to Yale University, where Jeff Van Gundy found his true passion: basketball. He managed to make the team and played a few games, but was soon cut from the team. That's right, Jeff Van Gundy was so bad at basketball, he couldn't even make a team full of nothing but a bunch of pasty white guys. Naturally, he did the next best thing, he became the towel and water boy for the team, and proceeded to watch the rest of the games from the sideline, and the more he watched, the more he 'learned' about the game of basketball. He began to feel that getting cut from the team was a blessing, for it had shown him what his true calling in life was: COACHING:

Thats right, Jeff Van Gundy was the original Waterboy.

He got a job coaching for the McQuaid Jesuit High School in Rockefeller, New York. Immediately the team was transformed, they even managed to win a few games without having to pay off the referees first. Johnny Mackiwitz, his star point guard, was finally coming around and by Hanukkah he was leading the league in assists and steals. The teams sluggish and ultra fat center Timmy Steinberg, had melted to a svelte 325 pounds, the school newspapers had changed hateful headlines into ones of praise, and all the players were happy and often sitting at kosher meals made by proud parents that towered high and steaming with all the smells of the old country. The team however, never made it into the playoffs. There was no victory parade for them at the end of the year, in fact when they took their final lost, there wasn't anyone there to see it, not even the kids' parents. But for Jeff it was a successful year, it was the year he got his feet wet and finally got into this coaching game. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he would be noticed, and asked for a better job elsewhere.

And he was right. Jeff Van Gundy shot up like a bald turd that refuses to be flushed.

He became a 'graduate assistant' for some d-bag coach at Providence College, which I guess means he was some assistant's assistant, who assisted in the assistance of the assistant coach, implying that perhaps the assistant coaches assistance wasn't enough, and did indeed require outside assistance. (How annoying was that, eh?) He succeeded in his mission and took the job of the man he was assisting the next year, becoming the assistant coach of Providence College. He would spend another year there as assistant coach before being asked to come coach for the tippy-top: The National Basketball Association.

Yep, it only took this d-bag 4 years of coaching to make it to the Big Show, where he would get a job coaching for The New York Knicks. He would become a fixture on the sidelines there for 12 years, (although six were as an assistant coach,) with his chrome head shining, his wind pipe always belting out arguments and complaints as his face turned into a grimace as his faucet of a nose leaked. He actually did well with the Knicks, even making it to the NBA Finals in 1999, when there wasn't a single soul who wasn't a Knicks fan that thought they had a chance in Hell (in fact most Knicks fans felt the same way.) Yet they made it, only to lose.

Even still, he's best known for this:

"Nothing was going through my mind." There you have it, self proclaimed retard.

From there it was off to the Houston Rockets, where he put in four years with the team. He only failed to make it to the playoffs once with a losing season, the other three seasons resulting in first round losses in the playoffs. During this time he unleashed about a million tirades, one of which resulted in a one hundred thousand dollar fine, after he claimed NBA referee's were targeting his star center, Yao Ming. It still, to this day, is the heaviest penalty ever levied on an NBA coach.

So without a ring, Jeff Van Gundy resigned from the team, and wasn't hired by any team the next season. By this time, everyone was sure he was going to kill himself. I mean he looked like a miserable bastard, a guy who apparently loved the game, but all the game gave him was sourness and hole where his heart should be. In fact, I'm pretty sure he had his toe on the trigger of the shot gun when he received the call.

Again, his darkest days had cleared to reveal a single thread of light, this, his true calling, COMMENTATING:

Now. . . at least when Van Gundy was a coach, we only had to hear him when he was complaining about a call, about to get himself thrown out, or bitching to the media hours after a game. Now - we've got him the whole game, throughout every NBA Finals. . . Letting Jeff Van Gundy commentate is a lot like giving a chatterbox with the intelligence of a retarded monkey a mic a stage and a trapped audience: you know you're gonna get some shit flung at you, of the retarded kind.

Listen:

Fellas, there's a game goin on here

Shit Whoopi Goldberg in 'Eddie' has better commentary then you fools... "Lets go back to the barbershop thing..."

Really Jeff you were a successful coach? Well that must have been the work of the players or your assistant coach, because something tells me the only things you ever talked about to your players in the huddle were how much you dislike Grey's Anatomy or how much you dislike everything in general. You'd think with all that supposed 'basketball' knowledge in your heads you'd be able to talk about the game and provide some insight, or at the very least be able to describe whats happening. Its almost like listening to The View commentate baseball, just a bunch of women talking about anything and everything other than what is important.