I hope you remember game 6 of the 2013 NBA Finals (part 3)

The 2014 Finals ended like two weeks ago.  Probably time for me to finish this article up.  God, it's so horrible.  I'm not even enjoying picking it apart.  This is the thankless job of a blogger.

I knew that shot was going in.

I already did this last post, but let me translate for Bill: because the shot went in, he wants you to think that he knew it was going in, even though he had no more idea than anyone else watching that game.

I would have wagered anything. Even with a 102-degree temperature, even with dried contacts, even with a lump of phlegm wedged in my throat, even with everything feeling vaguely white and hazy — 

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

the same way you feel right before you die, I’m guessing — 

Holy Jesus, you had a head cold.  Get over yourself.  You're an embarrassment.  NO ONE HAS SUFFAHED LIKE I HAVE SUFFAHED!  I WAS DRINKING COUGH SYRUP FROM THE BOTTLE, PEOPLE!

I saw the future once Ray started moving backward. I had watched him nail those shots too many times. Nobody had been better in those moments. Nobody. I remember yelping when the shot went through. I remember the fans losing their minds. I remember thinking, There’s no way he didn’t step on a line; it’s impossible, even for Ray, there’s just no way.

This is melodramatic writing, and the person who wrote it should be either heavily edited or fired.

They started reviewing the play. We whirled around and studied replays on our undersized monitor. Unbelievable. Never touched either line. You could compare it to only one other NBA shot: Kareem’s walk-off sky hook in Game 6 of the 1974 Finals, which saved Milwaukee at the buzzer in double overtime. If Kareem missed it, Boston took the title. If he made it, Milwaukee hosted Game 7. He made it. One problem: The Celtics flew to Milwaukee and won the title there, anyway.

How surprising!  I am truly shocked that this column about how the 2013 Heat beat the 2013 Spurs has turned into a reminder of a Celtics title from decades earlier.  Never saw it coming, not even when we were reminded that even though Allen plays for the Heat, Bill knows more about him than any of us dumb readers, because only Bill studied Allen's every move while he was in Boston.

This time around, Ray Allen saved Miami’s season and swung the title. 

Take that, Kareem!  Loser!

There’s never been a greater NBA shot. 

I hate Robert Horry (and the Lakers) and the legend surrounding him, but he's hit several shots as great as that one, with similar degree of difficulty.  Speaking of the Lakers, Derek Fisher hit a huge shot that had such an insane degree of difficulty that it contributed to the NBA changing the rules about whether such shots were physically possible in the amount of time Fisher had.  That's pretty cool.  

God I hate the Lakers.

With all due respect to Jordan’s iconic jumper against the ’98 Jazz, Allen’s shot had similar clutchness, bigger stakes and a higher degree of difficulty. If you or I caught that pass as we were backpedaling, then launched a desperation 3 with someone running at us, we’d screw up every time. Only a few players could dream of making that shot with that footwork — Kobe, Durant, Bird, T-Mac, Reggie Miller, maybe Jamal Crawford with lower stakes — but the moment itself made it a different animal. You wouldn’t want anyone else shooting that shot other than Ray Allen. His whole career led to those three seconds. It really did.

Shut the fuck up.  Really, that's what I could write as a consistent response throughout this whole mess of an article.

I love so many things about the NBA, but over everything else, it’s those moments when you know you’re seeing something special — something that will get replayed forever, something that lets you say, “Yeah, I was there,” 

On the ESPN set!  Next to Jalen Rose!  More quasi-semi-Peter King-ian unsubtle bragging.

and someone else turns into Will Hunting and screams, “Really? You were there? YOU WERE FUCKING THERE?” 

These moments happen in literally every professional sport.

I was there for Gar Heard’s miracle heave in Boston, Bird’s steal from Isiah and Magic’s baby sky hook over McHale and Parish. Now, I was there for Ray’s 3. That’s four all-timers. 

All for Boston!  Or basically for Boston!  When Allen hit that shot, he was really doing it for Big Papi Nation!

Only Ray’s moment remains hazy. 

You just spent four paragraphs talking about how well you remember it.

Everything was white and blurry, and then, there was Ray, and everything got clear for a second. Yeah, I was there.

Super compelling writing.

And here’s what happens when you’re there: You’re crammed around a basketball court watching these physical freaks bring out the best in each other, and occasionally, something unbelievable happens, and it creates this sound that can’t even really be described. It’s the single best sound, actually. 

This isn't at all repetitive.  Say what you will about Simmons, and I always do, but man--I'll never accuse him of using too few words.

When Bird dueled Dominique in 1988, Game 7, we made that sound for most of the fourth quarter. We knew something magical was happening. 

FACK YOU!  WE AHHHHHHH SPECIAL!

You attend hundreds and hundreds of games waiting for that sound to happen. In Game 6, it happened. Ray’s 3 swung the title and preserved a small chunk of LeBron’s legacy. It shattered a magnificent San Antonio team and kept Miami’s three-peat alive. 

OK.  We got it.  Thanks.  Move on.

And it guaranteed that Ray Allen would make the Hall of Fame on the first ballot.

He was already going to make the HOF on the first ballot (he's 26th all time in scoring, just behind Ewing and Duncan--he just passed Barkley and Iverson--The More You Know), but actually, that's a non-shitty argument.  There are probably a handful of dumb voters who were won over by that shot.

You know what happened next. 

YOU'D REMEMBER IT IF YOU WERE THERE!  I WAS THERE!  I REMEMBER ALL OF IT!  IT'S SUPER FUZZY AND HAZY, EXCEPT ALL THE PARTS I REMEMBER!  I DON'T REMEMBER ANYTHING!

Parker missed San Antonio’s last shot in regulation, with a little help from a barely perceptible shove by LeBron. Miami prevailed in overtime, escaping after Bosh swallowed up Danny Green’s last-second 3 attempt. Our studio show popped on TV after midnight. Wilbon went first, then Magic, then Jalen, then me. I declared that no NBA team had ever come closer to winning a title without actually winning a title, which I hoped was true. (It was.) We bantered for a few minutes, then returned a few minutes later and did it again. We filmed a couple more segments, then we were done. The whole thing wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as I expected. In retrospect, I would have rather written about it.

TV is NAWT glamorous!  I have an insider's perspective!  You like hearing me tell you about it!  Jalen and I are best friends!  

I'd rather read a description of what it's like to watch paint dry.

Instead, I returned to my hotel room, cranked the thermostat to 80 and crashed. I stayed in bed for the next 36 hours. I lost six pounds. I finished the first half of Season 5 of Breaking Bad. 

Tell me more, please.

I watched the Bruins blow a Stanley Cup game. 

I NEVAH LIKED THEM ANYWAYS!  FACK THE BROONS!  I AM A HAWKEY ORPHAN!  MY HOMETOWN TEAM DIDN'T WIN A CHAMPIONSHIP FOR A WHILE!  WAS I SUPPOSED TO KEEP CARING ABOUT THEM?  WHAT WOULD YOU HAVE DONE?  NOW I CAN DIE IN PEACE!  Bill Simmons is a dicknozzle.

I launched an antibiotics cycle with help from an NBA doctor. 

I HAVE CONNECTIONS!

I ordered room service and barely touched it. I felt like a failure for never writing a Game 6 column. I took hot shower after hot shower, since it was the only thing that made my head feel better. I wondered if I would make it to Game 7. I remember every single thing about that dark room.

This is excruciating.  Find me a more self-obsessed writer and I'll PayPal you a dollar.

Around 4 p.m. the following afternoon, the TV adrenaline started kicking in. We were five hours away from Game 7. I took another hot shower, shaved my face, slipped on a wrinkled suit, knotted a colorful tie, 

Beautiful description.  Feels like I'm there. 

gnawed on another cough drop. Then I pulled open the curtains to my room, the light blinding me from every angle. 

Or just from the window.  One of the two.  Someone get this asshole an editor.

I waited for my eyes to adjust, and when they did, I could see the water and the buildings lurking in front of me. Downtown Miami was waiting. So was Game 7.

Shut the fuck up.  See, told you I'd come back to that.  I don't even know if I'll eventually finish this disaster.  It's truly one of the worst things he's ever written.  Sorry about the only once a week posting, by the way.  It's summer.  I'm often busy during the evenings, when I usually tend to write.  Want to read a 4,000 word piece about the time I played softball with a twisted ankle, and how much I remember about the game, but don't remember?  Didn't think so.  I'll try to post more frequently during July.

Bill Simmons started watching the 2013 Red Sox in August, and hey, what do you know, a championship! Time to write about them like he had been paying attention all season (Part 2)

Bill was in the middle of telling us how 79-year-old Bill Russell tires easily.  But don't worry, Red Sox fans, you'll be hearing about your team soon enough.  Just need to account for the fact that Bill doesn't know jack fucking dick about baseball and is a huge fairweather Red Sox fan.  Once he gets done telling his story about an athlete from the sport he actually follows, he'll get around to you.

We walked into his library, which was practically sinking under all the books and pictures.

We walked into his kitchen, which was practically sinking under all the pans and dishes.  We walked into his bedroom, which was practically sinking due to the really big bed.  We walked into his basement, and over there, in the left corner, you could see the way the room was sinking into the foundation of the house.  

Fucking terrible writing.

To describe Russell as "well read" would be an understatement. 

There's the mealy-mouthed racism we were waiting for!  I know I was on pins and needles.  He reads books!  Doesn't that surprise you?  And he's SO well spoken.  He's not one of them.

During a bathroom break earlier, I had sneaked in there to peruse his books — if only because you can learn a lot from someone just by their books — 

1) We all know the only reason Simmons was looking was because he desperately hoped that Russell owned a copy of The Book of Basketball

2) Insert joke about what books are in Simmons's house here (I was going to go with Dr. Seuss, but I'm sure you can do better)

and noticed my own basketball tome, which Russell had allegedly read and enjoyed. 

EUREKA

The condition of the book made it seem like someone had read it, so maybe he did. 

Maybe he lent it to Larry Bird, and Bird read it!  Did you know Bird respected Russell and once told a crowd that Russell was good at basketball?  Just another classic Larry Legend moment.

Without him knowing, I signed one of the pages inside and carefully placed it back in the same spot. Now I was pretending that I had never seen his library before.

What an asshole.

"Here, look at this," Bill Russell said.

I hope Russell did the "You've got something on your shirt VWOOP gotcha!" move.

He handed me a framed photo of himself and Obama — taken two years earlier in 2010, when Obama had invited Russell to the White House, given him the Presidential Medal of Freedom and urged the city of Boston to build a statue for him. 

I can't think of a better example of a plea destined to fall upon deaf ears.

"Isn't that something?" he asked me, beaming proudly, looking like me after my daughter 

HEY I HAVE KIDS AND THEY ARE SUPER ZANY

crushes one of her soccer games. Only Obama gets Bill Russell to geek out. 

Terrible writing.

He loved everything about that day. Once upon a time, Russell had given speeches telling his fellow African Americans to keep their eyes on the prize, to never let anyone define them, or keep them down, or tell them they couldn't do something. He wanted them to believe that they didn't have a ceiling, that 40 or 50 years later, one of them could even be president. He made that point in more than one speech. 

Specific examples?  Research?  Context?  Not here, reader.  You're in Grantland now.

Now it was 2012 … and Bill Russell was holding a photo of him and President Barack Obama. Isn't that something? Yes. That's something.

Terrible writing.

We spent the next hour sitting at his kitchen table, with Russell telling us story after story. He kept bringing up his late wife, his third one, who had passed away a few years earlier. It became more and more obvious that he hadn't recovered yet. 

From all of that brutal standing he had to do earlier.

I found myself worrying about him. He's not alone all the time, right? People come to visit him, right? Russell talked about his various road trips, 

Terrible writing.

how sometimes he just packs a bag, climbs into his car and goes. He drives to Los Angeles, Chicago, wherever. He loves driving. Sometimes he'll bring a friend to keep him company.

This is somehow even less interesting than the part of the article I covered in my last post.

Eventually, we started talking about Boston again. I had a good handle on Russell at this point. You get one chance with him and that's that. It's a theme that kept coming up all day. Boston had already used up that one chance, as well as about seven other ones. 

Terrible writing.

How much bitterness did Russell have toward Boston? When the Celtics retired his number in 1972, he skipped the ceremony. No-showed it. Who does that? He made the same point over and over again: His loyalties lay with his Celtics teammates, and Red Auerbach, and Walter Brown. Not the fans, and definitely not the city. He didn't care if he ever went back. Or so he claimed.

Remember that part about him not showing up for his own number retirement ceremony?  Seems pretty legit.  HAHA BUT JOKE'S ON YOU, BILL RUSSELL, YOU WERE LURED BACK AFTER THE PRESIDENT TOLD THE CITY TO MAKE AMENDS AND THEN THEY BUILT YOU A STATUE.  YOUR CONVICTIONS AREN'T SO STRONG AFTER ALL!  This just goes to prove that racism doesn't exist in Boston.

I didn't totally believe him. Deep down, he cares. I think he does, anyway.

Terrible writing.

But that statue was going up whether Bill Russell showed up or not. The city needed it as much as he did. 

I'm pretty sure the city needed it way more than he did, given the way it treated him.

The mayor kept pressuring him, cajoling him, practically begging him to return. Same for Steve Pagliuca, one of the current owners of the Celtics (and one of the people responsible for making the statue happen). Same for Russell's daughter, Karen, and everyone else who Russell trusts in his life. Eventually, the great Bill Russell caved. He agreed to come back to Boston.

The ceremony will happen two days after the Red Sox won another World Series. Russell returns to a different city in every respect. 

Terrible writing.  Every respect?  Every last one?

The Big Dig finished nearly a decade ago, opening up downtown and even extinguishing some of the suffocating traffic.

Traffic Bill probably didn't have to deal with that much, considering he left in 1969.

It's a much happier city now, with a recent run of championships killing off the "woe is us" mentality that had become an identity of sorts (both locally and nationally). 

You know when else they had a run of championships?  In the 1960s, when Russell was there.  I'm not sure he would really have been aware of the insufferable woe is us vibe that permeated the place during the 80s and 90s.

Boston fans don't expect the worst anymore. 

OW-UH FANS AHHHH MO-AH PESSIMISTIC THAN YO-AH FANS!  THEY HAVE INTUITIONS THAT OTHAHS DO NOT!

During the late innings of Game 2 of the ALCS against Detroit, when it looked like the Red Sox offense had a giant salad fork sticking out of it, I found it fascinating that everyone at Fenway kept waiting for the boys to improbably rally even before that improbable rally happened.

Can you believe the stadium didn't just empty out because it was 5-1 in the 7th inning of a playoff game?  Those fans who stuck around in their $400 seats are literally amazing heroes.  And they didn't just stick around--they stuck around AND hoped their team would win, and then the team did exactly that.  It's the most astonishing human accomplishment I have ever heard of, other than the moon landing (if we assume the moon landing actually happened).

Holy dog balls, the self-importance of the fans of this city can barely be described.

It was that kind of season. A different dude with a different beard seemed to come through every time we needed it. Coming off an unhappy 2011 ending (that's an understatement) 

IT'S
NAWT
FAY-UHHHHHHH

That's one of my favorite nights of sports ever, and my favorite team was most certainly not involved in any of the action or fun.

and a catastrophic 2012 season, 

I know I made this joke last time but CHICKEN AND BEER.  NEVER FORGET.  WORSE THAN THE CHALLENGER DISASTER.

the owners and GM Ben Cherington smartly shifted gears and emphasized chemistry over everything else. 

Ah, chemistry.  The favorite worthless narrative of shithead sportswriters everywhere.  If the Red Sox had the exact same group of players who all had the exact same amount of fun, but lost to Tampa in the ALDS, then the problem would have been NOT ENOUGH TEAM CHEMISTRY.  Meanwhile I'm sure their title had nothing to do with their awesome pitching staff and surprisingly potent lineup.  Nah, it was just that the players really liked high fiving each other.

They gravitated toward likable guys who could handle playing in Boston, even severely overpaying one of the league's best teammates (Shane Victorino) 

No one has ever said that about Victorino prior to this October.  Suddenly he has a good playoffs for a championship team and he's Mr. Chemistry.  Sportswriters are the dumbest fucking people on the planet.

because he made more sense for this plan than just about anyone else. Victorino's at-bat music ended up being the rallying cry for 2013: Every time he came up at Fenway, you could hear the first notes of a Bob Marley song, followed by Marley singing, "Don't worry … about a thing," and then 35,000 fans screaming, "CUZ EVERY LITTLE THING … IS GONNA BE ALL RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!"

Percentage this had to do with Boston's title: fucking Z fucking E fucking R fucking fuckity fuck fuck O.

That's all you needed to know about the 2013 Red Sox. 

What he means here, and in everything that follows, is "This is pretty much all I know about the 2013 Red Sox, because I didn't pay attention to them until August.  Hey did you know Bill Russell likes Eggo waffles?  His freezer is full of them."

For the first four months, nobody expected them to win the World Series — 

You're right, they were only in first place on May 1, June 1, and July 1 (best record in the AL at that time), but I agree--the 2013 Red Sox were truly the little engine that could.  With their scant $158MM payroll (4th highest in baseball) and loads of on-field success throughout the season, who could have seen a deep playoff run coming?

we were just happy to have a likable Red Sox team again. 

THE 2012 RED SOX WERE NAWT FUN!  BY WHICH I MEAN THEY DID NAWT MAKE THE PLAYOFFS!

Go eat a fucking knife, Bill.  You're the worst.

Bill Simmons started watching the 2013 Red Sox in August, and hey, what do you know, a championship! Time to write about them like he had been paying attention all season (Part 1)

This article is actually an expose on Big Papi, rather than the 2013 Red Sox as a whole.  But they're one and the same for our (OW-UH) purposes.  And since Bill couldn't be bothered to watch the 2012 Red Sox after it became clear by early summer that they were not going to be the Best Team Ever, nor was he able to stomach the 2013 Red Sox until most of the way through the season when it became clear they would make the playoffs, he begins with 4,000 words about something exactly like Big Papi and the Red Sox: Bill Russell.

Tomorrow afternoon in Boston, Massachusetts, the great Bill Russell finally gets his own statue.

I'm just going to get this out of the way early and not go back to it (unless Bill does something really super terrible later on): Boston is a racist city that actively disliked Russell while he was leading the Celtics to like 12 championships in 13 years or whatever it was.  Racism.  Boston.  Potato.  Poe-tah-toe.  It still makes me laugh even though it's so sad.  But I don't want to go back to the well for that kind of joke 50 times throughout the course of this post, so that'll be it for now.

Details were scarce until recently. We know the statue will be unveiled in City Hall Plaza, that it stands about eight feet tall, that a talented local artist named Ann Hirsch created it.

WE KNOW THE FACKIN' C'S LET US DOWN YET AGAIN LAST YE-AH AND HAVE NOW GAWN FIVE SEASONS WITHOUT WINNING A TITLE; IT'S ALMOST TO MUCH TO BEH-AHHHHHHHHHHH.  I AM AN NBA AWWWWWW-PHAN UNTIL FAHTHAH NOTICE.

We know President Obama passed through Boston on Wednesday and caught an early glimpse. We know Russell and his family will attend the ceremony — no small feat, because Russell is wired like a Sicilian mafia boss. He remembers every slight, every offense, every ill word, everything. Boston let him down for good a long time ago.

At least Bill acknowledges it.

He gave up on Boston. Gave up on the city. Gave up on the people. Bill Russell has spent the past four decades living in Seattle, on Mercer Island, about as far from Boston as you can get without falling into the Pacific Ocean.

When I spent the day with Russell last November, 

NO BIG DEAL

he maintained that he didn't care about Boston anymore. 

I think moving to Seattle is a pretty good hint that he's not bluffing.

Little clues throughout our conversation said otherwise. He remembered everyone mistakenly assuming that a budding Celtics dynasty would come to a halt in 1963, when Bob Cousy retired, as if the Cooz was the reason for those first six titles. He remembered playing more than one Game 7 in a Boston Garden that was only 70 percent full, and he definitely remembered Bobby Orr's Bruins selling out games in December and January. He remembered the reaction after Red Auerbach named Russell as his coaching successor, as if nobody could believe that a black guy — a black guy — could tell a bunch of white people what to do. He remembered the idiots who wrecked his new house, destroyed his trophies and defecated on his walls, because how would anyone ever forget something like that? He definitely remembered how Boston fans deified Larry Bird, how they put him on a pedestal for winning eight fewer titles than Russell did.

It seems Bill is trying to get into a semantics argument and say that "still being really angry at a city that never appreciated his greatness because of his skin color" is different than not caring.  You and I, since we have brains, know that you can be furious about something but not really, truly care about it.  You can just leave it behind and let it fade away.  Which sounds exactly like what Russell was doing, except that it's harder for him to forget all those things than it is for you and I to forget that the coach cut us from the 9th grade baseball team, because 1) as Bill just said, Russell is wired like a crazy person and 2) he was disrespected because of the way he was born; you and I were disrespected (read: told by the universe to give up) because we sucked at baseball.

These moments kept coming up, and they kept coming up, and by the end of it, I just assumed that Bill Russell would never return to Boston. That he would live the rest of his life and die in Seattle, and that would be it. 

And all they had to do to lure him back for a few days was PUT UP A FUCKING STATUE OF HIM.  What a faker that Russell is--always pretending like he was deeply hurt by racism!

We spent the first chunk of our interview in Russell's basement, with the six-time MVP standing in front of his trophy case and telling stories about everything inside it. A few months earlier, he had undergone a heart procedure and was still recovering from it. Someone close to him warned us, "Make sure he doesn't stand for too long — he's still a little weak."  Like a dummy, I became so enthralled with our conversation that I kept him standing for 90 solid minutes. 

Riveting journalism.  "I interviewed Bill Russell.  He was standing.  Someone told me to make sure he didn't stand too much.  Later, we sat."

I can remember exactly where we were — the left corner of his basement,

I FEEL LIKE I'M THERE!  Also, what the fuck is the "left corner" of a room?  Is Russell's house in a side scrolling video game?

at the tail end of a wall covered with framed photos, magazine covers and newspaper clippings. Russell had framed a Boston Herald article from June 1986, right after Bird won his third title — the summer when Larry Legend could have announced that he was walking across the Charles River and 50,000 locals would have scurried down there to witness it — 

OW-UH FANS AHHHH MO-AH GULLIBLE THAN YO-AH FANS!

when many believed that Bird was the greatest basketball player ever. 

I said I wouldn't do more racism jokes.  I said I wouldn't do more racism jokes.  /grits teeth

You know who disagreed with that argument? Larry Joe Bird. He maintained that Bill Russell was the best, that the 11 rings spoke for themselves. The headline of the piece said something like "Bird: Russell Still the Best." If you think it doesn't mean anything that Russell framed this article and put it in his basement, then you don't know anything about Bill Russell.

And since you've never met him and stood with him for a medium amount of time, you definitely don't know him like I do!  Hey did I mention I got to meet Bird at one point too?

And as we were talking about it, suddenly, his eyes went blank.

A FAKE FORGETFUL blank.

I was standing there looking up at Russell — remember, he towers over me by eight inches — 

Still more beautiful and expository writing.  Bill Russell is tall.  Also a nice humblebrag tucked in there; just so you know, Bill is over six feet.  AND HE PLAYS PICKUP BASKETBALL STILL HIS KIDS ARE CRAZY KOBE BRYANT USED STEROIDS EFF YOU MODE!

waiting for his next sentence to come. We had a camera crew watching us from a few feet away, along with a few other selected guests. 

Peter King was there, for some reason, asking Russell what his favorite Sam Adams seasonal was.

I thought Russell had dramatically paused before his next point, eventually realizing that he couldn't get his next breath. I can still see his face — dark and weathered, white beard, whiskers popping from the sides like snowflakes. I can still see his blank eyes. I remember panicking about 1.8 seconds before anyone else started to panic. Oh my god. We killed Bill Russell. Someone frantically pulled over a tall stool. We urged him to sit down. Russell asked for a minute. We stood there in silence, watching one of the greatest athletes who ever lived now struggling to breathe. Someone gave him a bottle of water and that helped.

Bill Russell is 79.  Everyone knows this (NO ONE DENIES IT!).  This is not even slightly interesting, and I would be shocked if Bill wasn't embellishing the amount of drama in the moment.  The guy is old; old people get tired just from watching TV, let alone talking.  Please, continue this riveting tale.  What happened next?  Did you continue the interview?

We decided to change locations, moving upstairs into Russell's living room, 

So, how about David Ortiz and those 2013 Red Sox?  What a playoff run.

where we had arranged one of those traditional interview setups with two chairs facing each other. Russell made his way up the stairs — slowly, painstakingly, to the point where you could feel every step — 

Copy and paste my analysis from above.  Also, that's truly horrendous writing.

before finding his chair and sitting down. The camera crew hustled to turn on the lights and set everything else up, 

And to turn on their cameras and set up the sound and stuff!  It was neat!  This is turning into a long-winded 2nd grader's story about a trip to the zoo, only less interesting.

and now Russell and I were just looking at each other. I was concerned. Really, really concerned. Russell was staring at me with glassy eyes. He was in another place. Just concentrating on his breaths. 

HOLY SHIT BECAUSE HE'S OLD.  HAVE YOU EVER SPENT TIME WITH AN OLD PERSON BEFORE

The room was dead silent, like a church, with everyone else fretting and talking in hushed-beyond-hushed tones. His friend Charlie kept telling us, "He's fine, just give him a minute, he's fine."

And then … BOOM! Bill Russell was fine. He sprang back to life. "I'm OK," he said, unleashing his trademark laugh, and I can still feel my own heart racing happily after he said it. 

I considered doing that thing that I often do with TMQ writing where I cut a paragraph off midsentence and fast forward to the next point, but I wanted to firmly establish for you how horrendous this article is.  So far, in like 1500 words, we have 1) learned that Simmons did an interview with Bill Russell 2) learned that one part of the interview involved Larry Bird praising Bill (what a shock that that made it into the article) and 3) had Simmons tell us what walking around a house with a 79 year old is like.  Jesus H.

We spent the next 90 minutes talking about his life. The interview ended and everyone shook hands. 

But what about Charlie?  You can't just bring in a new character and then leave us hanging!

Our crew started packing up. I sat down at Russell's kitchen table with my friend Hirschy, the biggest basketball fan I know, 

And we agreed that the Thunder at 7/1 to win the title this year is WAY TOO HIGH.  THANKS FOR THE FREE MONEY, VEGAS.

as well as someone who had helped arrange the entire day. This wasn't just one of the highlights of our careers; this was one of the highlights of our lives. We were trying to act like adults. We were trying to remain professional. 

Just take about 5 semesters of high school level English composition classes and you might get there one day.

We were fighting off the urge to repeatedly high-five each other while screaming "YES!!!!" and "WE DID IT!" A three-hour hang in Bill Russell's house? With Russell talking about anything and everything?

We thought he'd schedule the interview, invite us in, and then only want to talk about NASCAR!

"Where's Bill?"

Russell's voice.

"Where's Bill?"

Me?

WHO'S ON FIRST LOL

I stood up.

"Come here. I want to show you something," Bill Russell said.

"It's the door.  Beat it, you fucking moron."

TMTMQR: Please have someone edit your work

First of all, I guess I can kind of sort of backtrack on what I said about Theo Epstein. You dastardly commenters have talked some sense into me. I kind of conveniently forgot about the Beckett/Lowell and Schilling trades, which were both pretty big deals. Whatever. I still bet he does nothing special with the Cubs.  Anyways I almost did a post on this NFL player trade value column written by Bill Barnwell and featuring terrible jokes and worse analysis from Simmons in the footnotes. That's the whole problem though--Barnwell is a pretty good writer, and the column is very enjoyable in spite of Bill's David Foster Wallace-inspired idiocy. So I figured it made more sense to rip on Gregg for continuing to be a diptard in all of the ways he's always been a diptard.

When the other team punts, Pulaski rarely has a returner on the field. Kelley reasons that a muffed or fumbled punt is about as likely as a long return, and so is content simply to let the punt roll, in order to ensure his side takes possession. Kelley rarely sends a rush after a punter, reasoning that a roughing-the-kicker penalty is more likely than a block. 

I get that this Arkansas HS coach is doing a good job (Gregg says they've played in the state championship game for two consecutive years, winning one of those games), but isn't the point of being a coach to help teach your players not to make dumb and avoidable mistakes like roughing the punter or muffing catches? I mean, results are results, but this just seems lazy to me. 

"Everyone says football is a game of field position, but it's not," Kelley maintains. 

Well, the extent to which it is important can vary from game to game, but field position is definitely generally something teams should worry a lot about. 

"It's a game of scoring points, which only happens when you possess the ball. 

And call me crazy, but I would guess that there's a direct relationship between how far a team has to go with the ball to score on a given drive and their likelihood of scoring on that drive. 

Last year the typical NFL offensive play gained 5.4 yards. 

Oh God. 

If it's fourth-and-3 or less, going for the first is likely to result in keeping possession. Of course a fourth-down try may fail, giving the other team the ball, but a punt is certain to give the other team the ball. So why do NFL teams almost always punt in fourth-and-short situations, surrendering possession? It's a game of points, and scoring points requires possessing the ball.

You are a simpleton. There is no better word for you. You are a fucking simpleton. 

Here in 2007, TMQ detailed the math of rarely punting. The Accuscore computer simulated thousands of NFL games for TMQ using NFL stats, and found that at the pro level, rarely punting made victory 5 percent more likely. In a 16-game NFL season, that means one additional victory per year. 

That's all well and good, but it's worth noting that if it was known that a team would always go for it on 4th down, the way other teams defended them on downs 1-3 would change. You'd see fewer 15 yard screen pass completions on 3rd and 19, for example, because defenses wouldn't go all soft in order to ensure they forced a 4th down. I'm not sure the net effect would make going for it on every 4th any worse than Gregg supposes it would be, but I'm just saying is all. Let's make sure we try to take everything into account before we start sucking our own dicks and anointing ourselves football savants.

"When coaches go for it on fourth-and-short, announcers call that a huge gamble," Kelley says. "It is not a gamble, it is playing the percentages. The gamble is punting! But coaches are afraid of criticism, so they order punts." 

Well, Mr. Watch How Aggressively (And Incorrectly) I Turn Conventional Wisdom On Its Head, it's probably still fair to say that going for it on 4th and 8 from your own 22 is a pretty decent sized gamble. 

Consider that the Giants-versus-Bills Super Bowl in 1991 came down to a 47-yard field goal attempt on grass as the clock expired. When the kicker missed, he was blamed for the loss, though 47 yards on grass is 50/50 for the best place-kickers. 

DON'T FORGET: FOOTBALL IS NOT A GAME OF FIELD POSITION.  

Though TMQ believes football coaches should go for it more often on fourth down, that does not, of course, mean the tactic will work. Fourth down was Atlanta's bête noire in 2011; the Falcons an awful 4-for-16, including 0-for-3 in their playoff defeat at Jersey/A. Failure on fourth-and-inches at the Giants' 21 in the third quarter was the game's pivotal down. 

BUT THE AVERAGE NFL PLAY GOES FOR FOUR OR FIVE YARDS! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? 

Carolina: Cam Newton's rookie season was seriously impressive -- 4,784 yards of total offense and 35 touchdowns passing or running. He even caught a pass for a first down. The sky seems to be the limit for Newton, plus he has a sense of humor. At a Super Bowl brunch, Newton was asked whether, after he is sacked, he yells at his offensive linemen. His response was to tilt his head upward as if looking high into the sky and say, "I tell the offensive line, 'Now listen you guys ...'" 

I like that Gregg considers this a noteworthy example of someone demonstrating comedic chops. I'm sure he loses his shit when he reads the cartoons in The New Yorker. 

Despite the show put on by their prize rookie, the Panthers finished 6-10 and a weak 1-6 versus teams that made the playoffs. Defense was the main reason: poor overall, and an NFC-worst 143 points allowed in the fourth quarter. New head coach Ron Rivera is a former defensive coordinator, so presumably will have something to say about the tackling. Perhaps he also will break Carolina of its recent habit of cannibalizing future drafts. In the past three years, the Panthers have traded future first-, second- and third-round choices for second-, third- and fourth-round selections right away. The net of those transactions was to swap a first-round draft choice for a fourth-round draft choice. 

And cash in on assets a year early. I like that he came up with that unclever and misleading angle though. HEY LOOK THE NET RESULT OF ALL THE TRADES THE RED SOX HAVE MADE SINCE 1919 WAS TO TRADE BABE RUTH FOR CLAYTON MORTENSON, HOW FUCKED UP IS THAT 

Chicago: The Chicago Tribune reports that once again, Lovie Smith plans to cut back on kick returns by Devin Hester so that he can devote more energy to being a wide receiver. In other news, the United States Navy plans to dry-dock its aircraft carriers in order to devote more resources to wooden sailing ships. 

First of all, there's a real humdinger of a zinger. Also, apparently Hester as a KR : Hester as a WR :: awesome modern warships : warships we haven't used since the 19th century. 

Few NFL teams have fight songs -- why not? 

Because it's not 1955 anymore? 

The Cowboys have 18 coaches including four gentlemen with the title "coordinator." Considering Garrett's Princeton background, how long until the Boys have a faculty senate? 

NAILED IT!!!! 

In 2011, Aaron Rodgers was close to perfect: a 122.5 rating -- best ever for a single season -- plus 39 more touchdown passes than interceptions. For his career, Rodgers' 6.25 percent touchdown passes is the best in a generation, while his 1.8 percent interceptions is the best of active quarterbacks. But Graham Harrell is his backup. Aaron Schatz notes, "Over the last 10 years, 11 different undrafted quarterbacks with no NFL starting experience have started games because of injury to the No. 1 QB. Those players have combined for a 38-to-48 touchdown-to-interception ratio, and their teams were 10-18 in these starts." 

Here's your Packers preview, everyone: if Rodgers gets hurt, they are kind of fucked. 

Now high school football teams are jetting all over the nation for games put together by promoters and shown on television. Surely this is exciting for the boys involved - but also distracts them from schoolwork, while cutting into study time. Football keeps getting bigger and bigger. Where is the sense of perspective in high school programs that act like college programs?

My monthly "gotta agree with Gregg on this one" moment. Fuck high school sports being on national TV, and doublefuck the disgusting companies like ESPN that make money off of it. 

Last season the Vikings were 1-2 when rushing for at least 200 yards, which may mean the run is overrated in the contemporary pass-wacky NFL. 

Last year the Broncos were 1-0 against the Jets during Thursday night games, which may mean that the Jets are the worst Thursday night team in the history of organized sports, or might not mean anything because holy shit who thinks that's a meaningful sample size. 

Want to lead the league in sacks? Any team can lead the league in sacks by blitzing a lot and ignoring "contain." In 2011 the Steelers were a modest 17th for sacks but had the NFL's top-rated defense, because Pittsburgh defensive ends first contain and get after the passer second. Allen ignores contain -- an old lady with a walker could get around Jared Allen. 

No one is trying to "get around" Allen.  He is trying to get around offensive tackles. Please reconsider that line, it doesn't make sense when you're referring to a defensive end. You are a bad writer. 

Not honoring contain is good for his personal self-promotion, but bad for the team. Why should Allen care? 

Present tense. 

He is very well paid for sacks, 

He is paid well to accumulate sacks. 

and none of the 23 Minnesota coaches seemed concerned about defense. 

Past tense. Holy Moses, that paragraph made my brain bleed. 

"Procedurals" Update: TMQ wound up last season spoofing the "procedurals" that have taken over network television, and soon will have more on the nuttiest of them all. Here are "procedurals" lowlights from the offseason: 

Oh no. 

On "NCIS: Los Angeles," the agents look super-cool by wearing tight jeans and fashion tees. Then they pull out cell phones, pistols (sidearm plus backup), handcuffs, flashlights, badges, wallets and extra magazines for lengthy gun battles. Where were they carrying this stuff? In one episode the mega-babe detective attends a party wearing the sort of short, skin-tight outfit that starlets sport on a red carpet. Her partner asks where her gun could possibly be hidden; she replies, in a bra holster. Moments later a firefight begins against mobsters with automatic weapons. She pulls her gun and fires dozens of rounds. Viewers never find out where the extra magazines could possibly have been hidden. The instant the battle ends -- with, of course, the bad guys dead while all their automatic weapons fire missed at point-blank range -- the babe detective pops her pistol back into the bra holster. A gun that has just fired dozens of rounds would burn her skin! 

THE NERVE OF THOSE PRODUCERS! 

Meanwhile, later in the column: 

If you haven't seen "Necessary Roughness," it's a pleasant diversion -- a clever show that's more or less about pro football. Catch it while you can since the midseason finale is Wednesday night.

And I'm sure life in the NFL is depicted with pinpoint precision on that show. 

New Orleans: The Sinners -- their new TMQ name -- 

ROASTED!  Billy Joel, sit back and wait for those royalty checks to start rolling in.

Several times over the past three seasons, before the bounty scandal broke, TMQ said things like this: "Tuesday Morning Quarterback continues to feel unease about the New Orleans defense which, under the tastefully named Gregg Williams, blitzes way too much." 

And then the Saints won a Super Bowl and continued to make the playoffs every year after that and we were all like, oh yeah, that's right, Easterbrook has his head in his ass as usual. 

Reader David Starnes of Fletcher, N.C., notes, "Now we know why the Saints blitzed too much. The game plan was predicated on payday hits. You can't get those hits without big blitzes." 

You are the stupidest person alive. You are stupider than the Manning/Unitas/Colts curse guy from last week. Please destroy your computer and never use the internet ever again.

NFL.com, the league's website, has been aggressive in coverage of Sinnersgate, running many items that surely made the owners squirm. One NFL.com front page showed Gregg Williams in a graphic with Pete Rose and Mike Tyson; the attached report hit hard on sports scandals. This is a positive sign. NFL.com being honest about an NFL scandal, along with the NCAA being honest about the Penn State scandal, is a step in the right direction for the traditionally closed, "how dare you criticize us" culture of football. 

My God. Gregg is a much bigger sucker than I realized. HEY THE LEAGUE PUT OUT SOME NEGATIVE P.R. REGARDING THE SCANDAL THING! I'M SURE THEY DIDN'T DO THAT FOR SELF-INTERESTED REASONS AT ALL, CERTAINLY NOT TO INFLUENCE PUBLIC OPINION REGARDING THE PUNISHMENTS THEY HANDED DOWN IN THE SCANDAL'S AFTERMATH! 

HEY LOOK, THIS SON OF A DEPOSED NIGERIAN KING JUST EMAILED ME AND WANTS TO GIVE ME A MILLION DOLLARS! BETTER SEND HIM MY BANK ACCOUNT INFO! 

Andy Reid has guided the Eagles to 19 playoff appearances -- of active coaches, only Bill Belichick received more postseason invites. 

Each NFL postseason game should not be described as an "invite." This is bad writing. 

This year's wide receiver corps includes the me-first Randy Moss, the me-first Michael Crabtree,

BEWARE THE CRABTREE CURSE, TEAM THAT NEARLY MADE THE SUPER BOWL LAST YEAR IN PART DUE TO CRABTREE'S 72 CATCHES FOR 874 YARDS! 

Mega Millions is one of many lottos run by the Multi-State Lottery Association, which has 33 member states. Governors and lawmakers of those states say they want to help average people. Yet they sponsor lottos that pick the pockets of average people. In 2010, Americans spent $58 billion on Powerball games run by state governments. Did the states extend that much in in aid to average people? When state and local income taxes, sales taxes, energy taxes and property taxes are combined with billions wasted to buy state lottery tickets, it may well be that on balance, the poor and working class are harmed financially, rather than helped, by state and local governments. 

OK, fine, I'll agree with Gregg twice in the same column. Lotteries are awful. 

It's been a laff a minute at quarterback for the Seahawks under Carroll, six players attempting forward passes in his two seasons. The laffs will continue with two new signal-callers, Matt Flynn and Russell Wilson. 

Not sure I follow the use of "laffs" here. I mean, it's kind of funny to spell it that way (not Cam Newton pretending to be on the ground after a sack funny, but funny all the same) but it comes in from out of nowhere.  Also, Wilson looks like a pretty legitimate QB so far. 

TMQ likes Miami over Seattle on Nov. 25. That game follows the Seahawks' bye, and Seattle is a league-worst 6-17 after bye week. 

Context? Check for typos? Come on man, you're taking my attention away from pointing out how much you suck at thinking and putting it on how much you suck at writing. That's annoying. 

This Week in Tortured Similes

From a Yahoo Sports Blog Post about Lamar Odom's offensive play:

And like a liquid that takes the shape of whatever container you pour it in, he can slide seamlessly into just about any role the game would call for

Got that? I mean, there's got to be a better way to phrase that. We all know what liquid is, right? I mean, even if we're of sub-normal intelligence, we're wildly familiar with the properties of liquid due to the fact that we drool all over ourselves. And anyone with a functional IQ has probably poured him or herself a glass of water or pissed in a beer bottle or what have you more times than he or she can count. Here's a hint to all you would-be-wordsmiths: if you have to overexplain either the vehicle or tenor of your figurative comparison, you are doing it wrong.

"The crowd roared like the load-roaring animal we commonly call a lion"

"Winning the NL Central was as easy as making one of the easiest baked dishes around--a pie!"

"Much as fish constrained by the small dimensions of a barrel are easy to shoot, so too was Kobe's uncontested slam dunk easy."

"Jay Mariotti is as dumb as a box of rocks, rocks not usually being known for their exceptional intelligence."

And so on to infinity.