Disclaimer: I’m a huge Heat fan who is emotionally invested in this playoff run to an embarrassing degree. That said, with seemingly every sports writer/analyst in the world crying foul about an alleged no-call when Dwyane Wade, with 1:33 left in overtime of Wednesday night’s game, defended a layup attempt by Boston Celtics guard Rajon Rondo, who had one of the best playoff performances in Celtics and perhaps even NBA playoff history, I seem to be the only one who thinks the refs made the right call, that is, by not making a call. Admittedly, from the baseline angle, it looks like Wade rakes his hand across Rondo’s face. But from the sideline angle it seems possible that not only did Wade not whack Rondo — he didn’t even touch him. Fast forward to 1:02 of this video: Does Wade pull his hand away at the last millisecond? Further food for thought: Isn’t falling to one’s knees and throwing up one’s hands a flopper’s calling card? You tell me.
Lebron James snubbed New York when he chose to take his talents to South Beach. Now, on the eve of the Miami Heat’s season opener, the New Yorker has exacted a measure of satisfaction by covering the Miami Herald and WLRN King James poetry contest with brows raised customarily high. The tone of the Ben McGrath piece isn’t overtly condescending, but, considering the New Yorker’s historic role as a gatekeeper of American poetry, I can’t help reading it through Eustace Tilley’s haughty monocle. (“O Lebron, My Lebron” appears in the precious “Dept. of Iambs,” for Naismith’s sake.)
I’m sure New Yorkers, still smarting from the King-sized rebuff, will be snickering in the subways as they read McGrath’s piece. To them, I offer the following six lines (the maximum length of contest entries):
Has a “ring” to it, no?