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But, man, the rest of it.
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Who knows when the next explosion is going to come and that’s one thing but for every two technical he gets the rest of the season, he gets another one game suspension and you’re foolish if you think that’s not going to happen at least a couple of times the rest of the way.
It’s a character issue with him, and I don’t care if he does good things in the community anonymously and handles himself well away from the game because character and chemistry and not letting your team down counts more to me than pure talent does.
You can’t have habitual offenders on your team without it being disruptive, you’ll have us writing and talking about and that’s disruptive, you’ll have coaches worried about what’s coming next and that’s disruptive, you’ll have referees and the league looking more closely at all the antics because that’s human nature and that’s disruptive.
At some point, it gets to be too much and if I’m an NBA general manager, I don’t even make a call because there is no suggestion whatsoever that things can change with Cousins. He’s not some kid who might eventually get it, he’s 26 years old and in his seventh season; it ain’t gonna change and it ain’t worth the trouble.
High character, to me, counts tons.
Well, he was broadcasting for the Pittsburgh Pirates and the game was in Philadelphia, the Bucs did lose the game after having a 10-0 lead and, yeah, eventually walked the distance, raising more than $ 100,00 for charity in the process.
Lesson? Don’t say stupid stuff. Or be prepared to pay the consequences.
So it’s firstname.lastname@example.org like it always is and get cracking.
That kind of unprecedented break will give him the chance to at least get in two pretty hard practices and given that they’ve got some work to do on getting people back into rhythm, I’m sure he’s anxious to get ‘em in the gym and get some work done.
The Thing You See On The Road, Vol. 193,725
I’m on the 24th floor the other day in Brooklyn and come out of the room Saturday late afternoon to go down and grab a coffee and standing at the bank of elevators is a groom. He’s got the tux and the boutonniere and a personal photographer doting on him and that pasty look of nerves and anticipation that I think you get.
We wait and wait and wait and the door opens and who’s there?
She’s got the gown and the veil and her own personal photographer doting on her and that pasty look of nerves and anticipation I thing you get.
“Stop,” the groom’s photographer says. “Don’t look! “
“Get back in,” the bride’s photographer says. “He’s right there!”
The dude turns his back to the elevator, the bride retreats to the back, the photographers chatter about who’s got to go back up and who’s got to take the elevator down.
Finally, the door closes, she goes up, we wait for another car to take us down and I’m in equal parts ticked that it’s taking so long to go grab a coffee and howling at the poor timing to kick off the marriage.