Great Moments In Troll History: Rose Says 'No' To Big Macs

One Big Mac - ~$3.49

Average Bulls Ticket - $66

Rose's New Adidas Deal - 14-years worth up to 260 Million

Letting the air out of 20 thousand people legitimately excited to save three bucks and change - PRICELESS

The better your team, the longer the regular season seems to drag, especially for a team like the Bulls on the cusp of a Finals appearance. Truthfully, there is nothing, save for three more games against Miami, that will tell us anything new about this team. The season begins in the Eastern Conference Finals; the rest is just satisfying filler. In a slow-moving season, where the Bulls return almost an identical team and will win a ridiculous percentage of their games, it is necessary to cling to the peculiarities. Luol Deng's mohawk, CJ Watson's beard, Carlos Boozer's spray-on hair -- all inconsequential details that serve the purpose of breaking up the monotony surrounding the team. Mike James joins the team to a unexpected outpouring of support. Joakim Noah develops a new Finger-Gunz celebration. Derrick Rose sinks another game winner -- a different game winner. Anything to pass the time until mid-May.

Another such peculiarity occurred in yesterday's 99-95 Bulls win. In what looked to be the makings of a fourth quarter blowout, the Hornets clawed back and actually took a four-point lead with 1:25 to play. Derrick Rose did Derrick Rose things to push the Bulls back into a four-point lead with ten seconds left. The Hornets turned the ball over on their last possession and rather than let the time run out and take the loss, Jarrett Jack inexplicably prolonged the sting of a hard-fought loss by fouling Rose with four seconds left. Rose needed to convert only one of his two free throws to give the Bulls 100 points and the fans free Big Macs.

The Big Mac cheers are something everyone is a little sick of, on par with Kingisms and Scalabrine chants. Giving away free food as a way to entice people to show up seemed like a viable plan when Ron Mercer and Eddie Robinson were big free agent draws. It's an outdated promotional tool. The Bulls are one of the best two or three best teams in the NBA, have one of the league's top-five players, and practically are guaranteed to win at home. There shouldn't need to be any incentive to get people to show up to games. Nevertheless, the Big Mac thing has cemented itself as a UC tradition and isn't going anywhere. 

For a little context, Rose had made all nine of his free throw attempts before the Jack foul, including seven in the fourth quarter. He was shooting 82 percent from the line going into the Hornets game. Averages would tell you he'd miss BOTH free throw attempts to keep in line with his season average. One miss maybe, but two appeared unlikely. He clanked the first free throw, to add drama, we all figured. Then he clanked the second. The crowd reacted like the Bulls had lost and slowly exited, heads down, aiming to purchase their own disgusting 30-grams-of-fat from the nearest McDonald's. 

With this performance, Derrick Rose carved out his spot in "Great Moments in Troll History." He performed to the highest level, took over the game down the stretch, did just enough to secure the win, but not enough to secure the coma-inducing slop. Hey, people need to be alive to buy his shoes. He knows this. An impressive feat all around. In any other season, this moment would qualify as a blip on the radar. In 2012, as the Bulls chug their way to the playoffs and us fans are spoiled with wins, this moment qualifies as memorable.

The Dunks They Should Have Done

The 2012 Dunk Contest marks the first time in history basketball fans have agreed on something. The people have spoken and the Ciroc Sprite-sponsored event was a colossal failure. Fans have rightly complained about the unnecessary pageantry of the whole thing, dependence on props, and the general lack of creativity. Some have already dubbed it the worst Dunk Contest of all-time and would rather see the event scrapped altogether.

I like the Dunk Contest. Vince Carter in 2000 made me fall in love with the event. The same unbridled joy I experienced as a 13-year-old is what I want for this generation. Older folks remember Spud Webb, or the Jordan-Dominique duel. My generation has Vince Carter. Maybe Blake Griffin jumping over a Kia qualifies, I don't know, but I believe players can do better. I'm disappointed this year's contest turned out poorly, so naturally, I have some suggestions. The ideas from this year's participants were there. They slightly failed from an execution standpoint. A wrinkle here and a wrinkle there and we're talking about potentially the greatest Dunk Contest of all-time. These are the dunks they should have done.

CHASE BUDINGER 

Chase Budinger's first dunk featured Diddy for no reason. The White Men Can't Jump concept was brilliant, only to be brought down by Diddy's antics. I know All-Star Weekend caters (or is trying to cater) to the same demographic as the BET Awards, but Diddy's inclusions was still puzzling. Aside from payed a shitload of money to plug his new television network, his appearance, and plea for the predominately white crowd to raise a fist for Black Power, got away from the theme. Budinger should have jumped over someone else for his first dunk -- the one and only Rosie Perez.

Perez played Gloria, Woody Harrelson's girlfriend in White Men Can't Jump and is currently available for work. She's waiting around for Law and Order to call, why not make her part of the Dunk Contest? She still looks as good as she did in 1992. They could have dressed her up in an Orlando 2012 outfit or if they wanted to go the extra mile for their sponsors, splash a big Sprite logo across her breasts. VIEWERS WOULD NOTICE.

JEREMY EVANS

Evans' second dunk was the event's best. Teammate Gordon Hayward sat on a chair and threw two balls in the air. Evans leaped over Hayward, caught both balls in mid-air and slammed them home. Great dunk but it could have been better. We've all known about Evans' supernatural leaping ability all-season, despite never having seen him play. This was the time to unleash his all-word hops. Instead, we saw him jump over a seated Hayward and 4'8 comedian Kevin Hart. Evans needed to do more here, but how could he?

Evans is a guy who can jump OUT of the gym. Under no circumstances should he be constrained by a stadium's parameters. He should have taken this one outside, right around the corner to Universal Studios.

Excellent sponsorship opportunity, a space to accommodate more fans, and most importantly, an obstacle that allows Evans to showcase his true leaping ability. What's not to like? Gordon Hayward will still have a place to sit and throw the balls up since it's sooooo important that a teammate be involved for one of the dunks.

PAUL GEORGE

George was the early favorite to win the contest, and still could have, if not for a costly mistake. His tribute to Pacers' President of Basketball Operations Larry Bird was an excellent one. George stuck a sticker of Bird's face on the backboard with his left hand while following through with a right-handed dunk. He attempted this dunk third, but should have made it his second one. He needed to use the Bird sticker on his first try since he wasn't going to convert anyway. For his second try, instead of another sticker, George could have stuck a light switch on the backboard.

The light switch could have been a precursor to his glow-in-the dark dunk he then would have attempted third. George turns on the lights midway through his glow-in-the dark dunk so viewers could have actually seen it, as opposed to what we did see:

DERRICK WILLIAMS

Williams was the fourth name on a list the casual NBA fan couldn't pick out of a lineup. We all know the most popular participant has an advantage over his competitors. Blake Griffin won two years ago before the contest even started. Williams had a perfect opportunity to increase his name recognition and didn't seize it. His teammate Ricky Rubio has captured the imagination of basketball fans across the world. Williams needed to wear a Rubio mask to trick some of the voters.

Suddenly Williams is the favorite. The crowd gets behind him and we'd finally have the answer to the age-old question: What would it look like if Ricky Rubio threw a lob to a bigger Ricky Rubio? For good measure, Williams could have sported a Spanish gaucho hat and dunked while being chased by a bull -- thereby directing some of the ethnic humor away from Jeremy Lin for a while. Give the kid a rest.   

The Dunk Contest is fine. Some tinkering here and there and we're back in business. We're still going to watch next year regardless. 

Ersan Ilyasova Reprises His Starring Role

It's been quite the stretch for Ersan Ilyasova, highlighted by a 29-point, 25-rebound effort on Sunday against the Nets. With increased playing time, Ilyasova has picked up some of the scoring slack and is now the Bucks' best rebounder by default thanks to another Andrew Bogut injury. The Bulls kept him in check all night, leaving his string of big games to disappear into the wind along with his once-promising acting career.

 Most people have forgotten Ilyasova's short stint as Daniel Desario in the cult classic television show Freaks and Geeks. Ilyasova worked under the name "James Franco" and has since spawned a pretty successful career for a look-a-like who goes by the same name. Contrary to popular belief, Ilyasova did not write, or has at least denied any responsibility for the travesty known as Palo Alto: Stories, now available on Amazon for as low as 73 cents. Here are some of Ilyasova's most memorable scenes from the short-lived comedy.    

"I don't give damn bout my reputation..."

Da na na na na na na 

"Chuck up bad shot in any situation..."

Da na na na na na na

"Which am I? Dungeon or Dragon?

"No, Daniel. The name of the game is Dungeons and Dragons. Roll the dice to find out your ability score."

[Ersan rolls dice]

"Dwarf?!?! Daniel stands 6 feet and 10 inches tall. Daniel is no dwarf."

"Dwarfs are good. They can do a lot of things the big guys can't do. They're tough and really good at finding jewels.

"Jewels, you say? Fine. Daniel will be dwarf."

"Weren't you the guy with the crazy girlfriend?"


"Yes. We split apart. We do just not share of similar interests anymore. She not into current affairs. I am. She not a punker. I AM!"


"Really? You know what punkers don't do?"


[Ersan remains silent]


"Call themselves punkers. What do you listen to?"


"The Clash. Iggy. The Ramones. Sex Pistols. Rashit. Pisliks. Tunay Akdeniz and Cigrisim. How about you for those obscure bands?"

"Well, that suck."


"Royally."


"No guys, it sounded a lot better."


"I'm out here."


"Where are you going, Daniel? We need to rehearse more."


"No, it is you that do rehearsing. I quit."


"You can't quit. We need to practice."


"You are dumb ass, Andopolis. Rock and roll to do not come from brain. It come from my crotch. Why you think I wear mask, huh? For shit and giggle? For horse play time? This not job for me, Mr. Cute Shorts. And if you ever got any, you know that.

[Omer Asik guest-starred on one episode as Daniel's friend, Nick Andopolis, formerly played by Jason Segel]


"Nick, do you make out man behind us."


"I do. Big movie star."


"His name, it escapes me."


"And me as well."


"He is the I'm fat guy who knock up hot girl, correct?"


"I believe so, yes."


"Do we ask him for autograph."


"Absolutely NO, Daniel. He ask us. We are big bad American basketball stars."


"Do you think he know our faces?"


"No. Sadly, no. We a couple of tall Turks to him."


"Nick, let me put this, how you say, gently. Why is your chin bleed?"


"My dad, army man, hit me in face. Day in the life."

The More You Know

The post-college student, especially those of the naive and ultimately doomed English-major variety are swamped, Hoarders-style, in a mountain of books. Books we probably should have sold back to the bookstore for ten cents on the dollar like normal kids, but just couldn't. My strategy was simple: if I liked one of the books I read in class, I kept it. I figured I would eventually get around to reading it again since I liked it so much the first time around. Predictably, this has not happened. I have not reread ANY of the books I saved. Books are too plentiful and life too finite to waste precious minutes rereading the words of a some guy who didn't live to see iPods or flat-screen TVs.

I was trying to realign some of these books on the bookshelf -- How does the saying go? My bookshelf needs a bookshelf? -- and nearly realigned my spinal cord instead. In the middle of this burdensome work, I unearthed a little brown book, tucked away behind some Mark Twain and Nathaniel Hawthorne. The book, pictured right, was The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane. My professor bumped it from the syllabus because she wanted to spend more time on a previously ignored feminist text that predated the feminist movement. I don't remember the feminist text or the author because I'm a bad person. I did save The Red Badge of Courage, though, because I didn't have a chance to read it and would have received about two cents back from the bookstore. So there it was, hidden all this time, a book on the shelf I had not read.

I used to always skip Introductions in college, but now I find them fascinating. So-and-so was huffing paint while writing in the closet of his second-cousin's one-room apartment. You don't say? Critic Alfred Kazin made a point of hammering home two things in the Introduction:

1) This was the first American novel to describe war as it truly was. Basically, Crane called bullshit on the idea of a flawless and heroic soldier, always-competent leadership, and patriotism. Soldiers were scared sometimes, lieutenants were not the smartest men in battle, and neither always knew what they were fighting for.

2) Crane was only 21* when he completed this novel and never fought in battle. His experiences were drawn from what he read. Many Civil War veterans who read the book were shocked to find out such a realistic portrayal of battle and nuanced psychological profile of a soldier could be penned by someone who was not once a soldier himself.

* -- There's nothing like reading a novel firmly established in the American literary canon, written by a 21-year-old to remind you of how little you've done with your life.


I finished the book today. There's tales of a soldiers handing over their personal belongings before battle, anticipating death. There's a colony of ants crawling over the face and into the eyes of a dead soldier. There's a cloud of gray smoke hovering over every scene, including the battle-free scenes. There's the overwhelming sense of paranoia that you would expect in a war novel. Where the book truly shines, in my opinion, is when Crane delves into Henry's (the protagonist, referred to as "the youth") psyche. We see a a soldier who believes in the glory of war and is reduced to fleeing the scene when it comes time to fight. Henry describes the guilt of walking past the wounded soldiers and wishes he suffered a wound himself. He is forced to leave a dying comrade at one point, and reminisces on the looks girls gave him in uniform and the support he received back home when being sent off. It's powerful stuff that reads like a memoir if memoirs were written in third person.

Reading Crane got me to thinking about sports writing. Most sportswriters didn't play college sports. Some didn't even play in high school yet they are entrusted with telling these stories. It's one thing to a write a simple game recap, but but how adequately can a writer assess a player's ability to breakdown a defense if they've never broken down a defense? Or even, how can a writer truly understand what's going through a player's mind on the court? Interviews are becoming more and more useless every year, as players know better than to express anything that can provide headlines or damage their brand.

We've accepted the writer-player relationship because it's the best we can do. Players cannot play and write full-time during the season. And just as their counterparts weren't good enough to play professionally, they probably wouldn't be good enough to write professionally. So we cling to our Stephen Crane's. The ones who are so good they can make you feel like they were chasing Ray Allen around screens or standing at the free throw line, down a point with two free throws. They command the respect of the players they write about and so on.

Either way, I'm glad to have experienced one of Stephen Crane's literary contributions. I wish he could have listened to his Abe Holzmann on an iPod.         

DeMarcus Cousins Doesn't Want To Be Understood

My reputation precedes me. I'm either lazy or misunderstood depending on who you ask. I'm spoiled and got my coach fired and have played better in his absence. I've played better because I'm finally allowed to play free. Simplicity. Let me do my thing. My thing is to score 30 points and grab 15 rebounds. I will do this quietly if you let me, but nobody seems to let me. I'm always being poked and prodded. I've acquired the reputation as a hothead, and rightfully so. My opponents use this to their advantage, they know the slightest shove will set me off and the referees will rule against me. I'm not innocent in all this -- I enjoy mixing it up too. To you, I look like I play the game angry, and I am angry. Who wants to play within confined parameters, under talent-constraining rules, with coaches and teammates and referees and fans who do not have my best interest in mind? I'm a cog in the machine. I am the machine.

Every mention of my name ends in a discussion of my temper. My temper is holding me back and is the reason I will never achieve greatness in this league. They say this and don't realize that my demeanor is why I'm so good in the first place. I attack the glass with a fierceness you don't see from many players, but only when I fell like it. Sometimes I prefer to take it easy. All good men have to rest sometimes. They dwell on my temper but cannot ignore my talent. My talent is the reason, down 8 with 45 seconds left, I can effortlessly drain a three -- my first make and only fourth attempt on the season -- to momentarily save the game. I do this and make sure my headband is straight after the fact.

They ask me about Valentine's Day and I jokingly give them all the cliche answers. I know better. When I give the honest answers they are used as proof of my immaturity. It took LeBron seven years to figure this out. They used to like him, they never liked me, so I was able to learn earlier. You may have noticed me joking with Donte Greene in the video. That's the same Donte Greene I tried to punch in the face during a team flight last year. Initially, people speculated gambling or my general dickishness was to blame. I tried to fight Greene because he didn't give me the ball at the end of the game. I wanted the ball, not for individual glory, but because I knew I was the only Sacramento King capable of making a shot. Tyreke Evans missed a good look and we lost the game. Why can my teammates never make the simple play? I stormed off the court and, depending on who you ask, was either trying to incite a mutiny, or really pissed our loss was out of my control. Donte and I are cool now. I'm a big kid, remember. Boys will be boys.

Why must they make everything so difficult? No, Starbucks lady making my coffee, DE -- Marcus, Marcus is my teammate's name. No, guy at the furniture store writing up my bill, I'm not DeMarcus's cousin, I'm DeMarcus Cousins. Last name, Cousins. First name, DeMarcus. Do you think so lowly of me that, strolling into your place of employment and attempting to purchase furniture in my cousin's name seems like something I would do? Well fuck you then. People needlessly complicate things to the point where we can no longer understand each other. Just give me the ball. Give me the DAMN ball in the post and let me go to work. Don't worry about all those set plays. Give me the ball and I'll show you a very simple way to score two points.

Of course I asked for a trade. Wouldn't you? Oh, you sit tight-lipped through a shitty job for 25 years of your life and let your potential go to waste. You're not me then. Know my game, study it. Don't worry about my personal life or mindset. I'm here to play basketball, it's everyone else who needs to catch up. There's some things about me you will never understand and that is exactly how I want it. Now who scratched my goddamn Gucci CD? 

All Around The World The Same Song

"Give me that stupid hat and take off your shirt!" Or something along those lines.

All of the worst things people say about Valentine's Day are true. It is a made-up holiday, no doubt, manufactured for the purpose of selling candy, flowers, and Hallmark cards. It puts unnecessary pressure on guys who feel they've done a pretty good job up to this point. Worse yet, Valentine's Day plays on the insecurities of (mostly) women whose existence is validated by a man in their life. You are not single and have not been for some time. Being the pampered soul you are, you bemoan the yearly difficulties of impressing someone who is going to love you regardless.

Valentine's Day is not all anxiety and depression. In a long-term relationship, you, and everyone really, have the tendency to take your partner for granted. Valentine's Day, if nothing else, is your yearly reminder to show them you care, even though you don't always show it. You'd prefer something less traditional as a Valentine's Day warm-up, but your girlfriend wants to see The Vow. You think of hundreds of things, some of them very unsavory, you would rather do, but your girlfriend wants to see The Vow so The Vow is what you're going to see. You've subjected her to the Washington Wizards and the Portland Trail Blazers and Tony Allen enough to understand relationships even things out. You recall a recent conversation:

"Who's playing?"

"The Knicks and Timberwolves."

"Gross. Who do you want to win?"

"Oh, I don't really care."

"Why are you watching if you don't care who wins?"

You have no good answer for this question. It isn't normal to watch a six or so hours of basketball a night? Normal people do other things on Saturday night? You watch basketball because that's what you enjoy, and you cannot explain why you get so much satisfaction from sitting idly and watching others achieve athletic greatness. It isn't easy to love you, you understand, and realize the least you can do is sit still for two more hours and watch The Vow instead of LeBron.


The Vow transports you to a world where you are supposed to believe Channing Tatum is an underdog, overdue bills are paid with LOVE, and a near fatal car accident is ultimately beneficial. Tatum wears a goofy hat in the beginning and ugly sweaters throughout--a deal breaker for most guys, but Channing Tatum is not most guys. He made the women in the theater (about 80 percent of the crowd) swoon when he appeared in a        
non-frontal nude scene. His love interest, Rachel McAdams is a well-dressed coat rack, serving mostly to get Tatum naked and to help him set an impossible "good guy" standard. Despite the plot being structured around McAdams' ability to remember, you get the feeling a hour-long loop of Tatum in his underwear reciting a sappy monologue would have grossed the same.

There is no need to get into the story because you know how the story ends. This does not stop you, however, from becoming immersed. You try to deny it, but a part of you says "Fuck Jeremy," and wonders why it's taking so long for McAdams to make the right decision. This can't possibly be a true story like the opening credits say it is, and if so, how much money are these real people making off this? The actress playing McAdams' sister is fortunate to look like her, you think, helping time move by. You want to feel above this, but you know you aren't. Deep down, you know every basketball season is no different from the worst chick flicks.

The ending, storylines, and drama are the same, played by different actors/players and shifting circumstances based on story/team. You know the year will end with a champion being crowned. You know there will be surprise team and a surprise rookie or two. You know this team will come up short in the playoffs and these breakout player(s) will regress to the mean. You don't care. This is your preferred form of entertainment. The difference being, those who enjoy chick flicks always root for the winner. They know they will leave happy. It's not like that in sports. You don't want your team to be Jeremy or the douchy future-brother-in-law who, in his big scene, questions the profitability of a recording studio in today's day and age. You want your team to be Channing Tatum and there can only be one.

To borrow an English phrase, the Bulls seem to be losing the plot a bit. At full-strength they're the best team in the NBA. Will they ever be at full-strength though? This is not meant to be a panicked reaction to a regular season road loss to Boston without Derrick Rose. This is a legitimate concern come playoff time. The Bulls will finish with the top seed in the East and face Miami in the Eastern Conference Finals. This is the predictable part of the movie. Nagging injuries or not, as long as Rose and Deng play, the Bulls are good enough to get past the first two rounds. Rose and Deng's injuries seem like they aren't going away and Rip Hamilton has literally went away somewhere. No one has seen him in weeks. Twenty-point road wins against bad teams are nice and all, but Miami is the only real competition to get the girl.

It feels like the Bulls are descending into supporting role territory or even worse, one of those woman who hosts an Anti-Valentine's Day Party. That's probably too extreme you're thinking, but remember, you sat through The Vow last night--you're not thinking straight. Your bewilderment and inherent pessimism knows no bounds and you just want the Bulls to be Channing Tatum because The Vow did its job and made you feel oh so inadequate.

See how none of this makes sense?        

Eli Was There, But Not Really

The Super Bowl is over. Finally. Two teams you hate squared off and as is unfortunately always the case, one of them had to win. Super Bowl MVP Eli Manning played fantastic, completing 75 percent of his passes for 296 yards, and one touchdown. The commercials and halftime performance sucked as much as they always have and Cris Collinsworth would take some good, old-fashioned discipline from Tom Coughlin any day of the week. The outcome of this game was almost decided by the assumption Ahmad Bradshaw would make the smart play, which is absolutely hilarious if you're not a Giants fan. Rob Gronkowksi appeared hobbled by injury and Tom Brady is now a choke artist because he lost to Eli twice--in the Super Bowl--and Peyton Manning, and Bart Starr, and Otto Graham would have never let that happen to them. Stripped of the silly narratives, Super Bowl XLVI was an entertaining game, even if you were still hung over from the night before.

The night should have belonged to Eli and the Giants alone, but Peyton's shadow hung over the place like the Colts' Divisional Championship banners. I undertook the painstaking mission of compiling all the questions asked to Eli Manning in the weeks leading up to the Super Bowl. It turns out 100 percent of the questions in some way reverted back to Peyton. Here are the most common:

    

1) We're here in Indianapolis, in the stadium your brother Peyton built. What does this mean to you knowing you grew up watching Peyton complete his engineering homework as the sweet smell of your mother's casserole danced around the kitchen?

2) Given the severity of the injury and delicate balance needed to assess any damage to the neck area, how will this affect Peyton's ability to analyze your throwing motion come Sunday?

3) The 2007 Playoffs was perhaps the most unpredictable NFL postseason of the last decade, marked by San Diego's stunning upset of the Colts in the second round. What, if anything, did you learn from that crushing defeat?

4) On a scale of 1-10, 10 being 'Big-Big Asshole,' how would you rate Andrew Luck as a person?

5) You came under fire early in your career for refusing to play for the San Diego Chargers, who drafted you first overall in 2004. Was your decision motivated by the thought of having to play your older brother in the Playoffs every year?

6) We know Peyton has been breaking down film furiously over these last couple of weeks, more than yourself, I'm sure. It's no secret the two of you have talked strategy all year. In the event of a win Sunday, how much of the credit does Peyton deserve? 18 percent? 50? 100?

7) Five years before you entered the league, we watched Peyton exert an unparalleled amount of control over play-calling at the line of scrimmage. Watching you bumble through your progressions, you appeared retarded in comparison. Have you always been retarded, or is this something that has come to light only since playing football professionally?

8) Critics of your brother have pointed out his repeated postseason failures. They've duly noted a Super Bowl win over a Rex Grossman-led team should be taken with a grain of salt. Meanwhile, the same people say your TWO wins over Tom Brady and the Patriots are proof of your superiority as a quarterback. What would you say to dispel this obviously faulty logic?

9) As part of the 37-hour Super Bowl pregame marathon, you told the touching story of the first time you beat Peyton in a game of basketball. Off the record, can you admit that story was a lie and you have never beaten Peyton at anything?

10) Growing up, Peyton berated you. He pushed you around, beat you up, and never let you win at anything. He'd tell you to "Look over there!" and eat the food off your plate when you turned your head. Some older brothers coddle their younger brothers, preferring to support and encourage them in every way possible. Explain how a miserable, anxiety-riddled childhood was ultimately more beneficial than one with loving and functional familial relationships.          

11) On a scale of 1-10, 10 being 'Completely Useless' and 1 being 'Appendix,' how would you rate Jim Caldwell's job performance?

12) Peyton wouldn't be caught dead driving a 2012 Corvette Grand Sport Convertible Centennial Edition, would he?

13) Interestingly enough, Peyton has two kids and one Super Bowl, and you have one kid and two Super Bowls. How frustrated is Peyton, knowing he's on the wrong end of the kid : Super Bowl ratio?

14) To us Northerners, who, barring a Chernobyl-like disaster, would never venture below the Mason Dixon line; Mississippi and Tennessee are viewed as equally abysmal states. Describe the merits of both states without structuring your argument around "Peyton attended school in one of them."

15) Your father, Archie, always says he loves all his children equally, regardless of whether they play football, sell insurance, or are female. We all know this isn't true. As the new favorite, how will you deal with your father's unadulterated attention this offseason? Is it safe to pencil in Peyton as the 2013 Super Bowl MVP?

16) The new popular saying is "You can't spell 'Elite' without 'Eli.'" Has Peyton begun to unscramble the letters in his name to compose a flattering buzzword?

17) This preseason you said you were "absolutely" in the same class as Tom Brady. Is this class one or two rungs below your brother?

18) Staunch observers have criticized network coverage for deflecting too much of YOUR attention onto your brother. When you retire and you've won more Super Bowls and put up similar career numbers to Peyton, will you just laugh at the stupidity of the general public, or make like Aaron Rodgers and become an analyst for the sole purpose of airing your remorseful, bitter rants?

To All The Przybillas and a Hundred Dollar Billas

"Disappointment never looked this good."

I happened again. The Bulls dropped their third in the last five after only losing three of their first sixteen games. It's obviously time to panic. You can only place the onus on Deng's return for so long. The Bulls need to make a move and they need to do it now. Dwight Howard recently said he'd be interested in playing in Chicago. He also unknowingly agreed to a long-term deal with the Beirut Bandits, so take his word for what it's worth. Howard to the Bulls isn't happening and Bulls fans know it. Think smaller, more under the radar, but big impact implications. Consider a different 7-foot shot-blocking machine who used to grab 20 boards when given the playing time. Think Joel Przybilla. He's been waiting patiently. He's wants back in. He has plenty to prove and he needs to prove it in a Bulls uniform.

Przybilla was the 9th overall pick in the 2000 Draft--a draft renowned for its legendary awfulness. This alone makes him a particularly suitable candidate to play 10 minutes a game every tenth game. The oft-injured center was seen jiving on the bench with Greg Oden during his six-year stint in Portland. The duo made the best of a frustrating situation. They compared suits, often leaving the price tag on because who wants to pay for 55 different suits a season when they can just take them back? They chastised Andre Miller's haircut from a distance and exchanged sweet potato pie recipes. Occasionally Przybilla would be forced to leave his friend and play in a game that night. Oden, sulking and lonely, watched as Przybilla developed into a defensive force. He blocked shots and grabbed rebounds with the ferociousness of a descending turkey vulture. He did all of the things (besides score) that Oden was supposed to do better and more frequently for the Trail Blazers.

The Sixers scored 46 of their 98 points in the paint (47 percent) against the Bulls last night. That number is entirely too high for a perimeter-oriented team. Now I ask you, would Przybilla's presence at the end of the Bulls' bench not help in this department? Would his acquisition not put the Eastern Conference on notice like Rasual Butler's did last year? At the very least, Przybilla provides insurance should one of the bigs go down with an injury, assuming Przybilla doesn't go down with an injury first. Przybilla's arrival would also allow Brian Scalabrine to return to the familiar 'victory cigar' role he excelled at last season. In a lockout-shortened season bereft of continuity, Przybilla's arrival could change everything.

As much as I would like to suggest differently, my newfound support of Przybilla is motivated by a case of 'Keeping up with the Jameses.' Przybilla is currently mulling over offers from the Bulls and Heat and expected to make a decision sometime this week. If the Bulls don't get Przybilla, then the Heat do, and I don't want the Heat to get anyone. Envy has its limits. The Heat can take Eddy Curry and place whatever hopes they feel comfortable with on his ability to not register on the Richter Scale. Eddy Curry at best is a resealed driveway. Przybilla could potentially be new siding. I don't care if you can't afford it. You dip into the savings, call up your father-in-law crying, do whatever you have to do to make sure your asshole neighbors aren't the only ones in the neighborhood with new siding.

In summation, Joel Przybilla will contribute very little to the Bulls. He won't play unless someone is injured, but he will designate Scalabrine back to the bench. He may be the secret weapon to clogging up driving lanes in the playoffs or he may pull up lame his first game back on the court. He certainly will not have a problem elbowing a driving Derrick Rose in the head, and I would much rather it be a driving LeBron James or Dwyane Wade he is elbowing in the head. The Heat could use a goonish big man and thus, should not be allowed to have one.

Make it happen Bulls. Send someone else out on the recruiting trip if Derrick Rose doesn't want to go. Joel Przybilla cannot land in Miami. Where he goes will shift the balance of power in the East or make no difference at all.