MidValleySports.Com

By Joe Torosian

Kick it!

I was asked if I found Sophie Cunningham attractive.

I said yes. I always find someone who doesn’t back down from a bold statement attractive.

Throughout history, courage has always been attractive, and lack of courage unattractive.

And, of course, after recent statements from its top coaches, what approach is left for the WNBA when a dude decides he wants to play in the league?

I had my problems with Title IX back in the day, but I never thought it would be rendered obsolete by its biggest advocates and those it was structured to help.

And if you listen to Minnesota Lynx HC Cheryl Reeve, she sounds like she’s cool with a dude running up and down the floor, but just don’t let him coach the team.

This is old business, and I’m far from being a LeBron James supporter, and while I think he might be the best player of his generation, it wasn’t a very deep generation.

I do not think LeBron James is the GOAT, and should never be mentioned with Jordan, Magic, or even Kareem.

So with that track record—firmly established—why was he hassled and continuing to be hassled for chasing a ring? Where was he supposed to do? Go to Memphis? Washington?

He smartly got out of the West, because for the time he has left, it is going to be dominated by San Antonio and OKC. In the East there are no guarantees. It was the right move to a place where there will be a lot of talent around him.

…and maybe even Joel Embid will be inspired to play a few minutes.

As a poor kid growing up on a dead-end street (the product of 11 marriages between mom and dad) with other poor kids and the only dad on the street being a drunk, we did okay. A future convicted rapist living across the street, the town madam living next door (for a short time), the guy down the street murdered in a shooting–we were rescued by church and sports.

I won’t talk about church here, but sports was everything to us.

We emulated our favorite players and stars. If my brother ran through the living room and jumped over the footrest, we’d shout, “Go O.J.! Go!”

My personal favorites were Harold Jackson, James Harris, Connie Hawkins, and, because of his second-half kickoff return against Notre Dame in 1974, Anthony Davis.

When playing in the street and throwing the football, I wanted to be Shack Harris—and by the time he got to the Rams, I hated Pretty Boy Pat Haden. (I’ve matured since.) 

When playing basketball, and because my hands allowed me to palm the ball at an early age, I wanted to play like Connie Hawkins.
(I had an earth bound scoop shot incorporated into my game that was a homage to The Hawk.)

And the interesting thing about it? None of them were half-breed Armenians….meaning none of them looked like me. I didn’t need someone to look like me to dream and have hope about the future.

I despise the lie that we need someone who looks like us to have a dream, a hope, or a future that is possible. 

Rather, I view it as a divisive Marxist lie. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.

My wrath against the Giants for what they did to me during Spring Training will continue for another 75 columns, but the Dodgers have lost six in a row and may lie stinking in the earth before the Nephilim to the north do.

#87—May the San Francisco Giants rot and lie stinking in the earth. 

The Dude abides…

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