red bulls nba team

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

DEAR MARK "TWINKLE TOES" CUBAN,



My, you're looking thin and fit these days. How's all that dancing stuff going? Seems like you are having fun. I almost forgot you owned the Mavs for a second there. I mean with the regular season starting in a few weeks and you being the self-proclaimed hands-on owner guy, I would think that this is a pivotal moment for your beloved Mavericks. But whatever. When you've just gotta dance....

So I guess to make up for lost time (or press/sensational sports headlines/attention) you are now jumping into the Kobe trade talks. Now we all know that most of this talk is just something to keep our basketball minds occupied. You say that you are willing to give "anything but Dirk" in return for Kobe. Really? Really? I hope that was said for shocks and giggles.

Some people would say that a Dirk for Kobe trade is a good idea. I am not one of those people. However, I have a way bigger problem with the idea of losing any combination of Josh Howard, Devin Harris, Jason Terry or Devean George (though it would be kind of funny to see Devean George back in LA). I think one of the big hangups that the Mavs have faced in playoff/Finals scenarios in the past few years was Dirk, while maybe not technically choking, not playing with his regular season dependability. So you would keep Diet Choke and get rid of the solid workmen of the Mavs?

Again, this is all in the realm of pretend. But if that is truly how loyal you feel to Dirk at the expense of multiple talented Mavs, might I suggest you have Dirk frozen in carbonite and entombed just above the jumbotron at AAC? Then maybe ditch "Emminence Front" and props that spit out sparks in the player introductions before the game in favor of a Wagnerian aria and force all other Mavs to kneel before him. It's just an idea that I happen to believe is no more or less ridiculous than an NBA team owner doing the samba and pandering for the votes of America's overfed housewives in a battle to the death against Marie Fucking Osmond.

Yours truly,

Cuddle Pants

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