A very happy 49th birthday to the multitalented Bo Jackson, who baked his own cake, made the candles, blew them out, then broke the cake in half over his thigh.
It’s not Joe Johnson’s fault. He didn’t come right out and demand that the Atlanta Hawks make him one of the highest-paid players in the NBA. But they did, and he is, and, well, have fun losing in the second round every year, Hawks fans. And good luck with the new CBA. Oh and, er, happy birthday, Joe. Buy yourself something nice. Like, the Maldives. (If you haven’t picked up my main man Lang Whitaker’s book on Bobby Cox yet, please do so. Fun read, even for Mets fans like me.)
It was a bit of a chicken-or-egg thing for me — did I hate Duke because Bobby Hurley went there, or did I hate Bobby Hurley because he went to Duke? — but one thing was for sure: I hated Bobby Hurley. The classic coach’s kid, he was scrappy, he was skinny, he was clever, he looked like he got a good night’s sleep once a year whether he needed it or not. In short, he was insufferable. But something changed once he made it to the NBA with the Sacramento Kings. I don’t know whether it was him or me (or just the fact that he was separated from Christian Laettner), but I started to respect his hustle as he worked hard to adapt his scrappy game to the NBA. Then came a horrific car accident near Arco Arena that nearly killed him, and like that, his basketball career was over. He’s an assistant coach at Wagner now — so perhaps one day he’ll coach his own son, and I’ll get to hate him, too. Nothing personal, though. Happy birthday, Bobby. Glad you’re still with us.
If you’re between the ages of, say, 35 and 45, it’s likely you had a Costacos brothers poster on your wall. Michael Jordan dunking the moon may have been their most well-known effort, but they also were responsible for such notable images as LT as the Terminator shooting lasers from his fingers, Jim McMahon and Walter Payton as Miami Vice (standing in front of Payton’s own Lamborghini) and Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire bearing some cartoonishly outsized bats (foreshadowing!) as the Bash Brothers. If you’re in New York City, you can get a look at a gallery full of their original designs over at Salon 94 Freemans (click image for link). And not only is this Chuck Person poster part of the exhibit, it’s his birthday today. Happy 47th, Rifleman.
Since the NBA is being stupid and the season — or at least the start of it — is in jeopardy, it looks like Halloween will belong to the fiends and misfits once again. So suck it NBA, and happy birthday to Glenn Danzig. 138.
Best jersey ever? Happy birthday, Pistol Pete. You are missed.
I had to watch Tom Chambers dunk on Mark Jackson several times this morning to get a proper screengrab, and I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy it. After enduring years of “mama, there goes that man” and “hand down, man down” (does anyone have any idea what either of those things actually mean?) on ESPN and ABC, it was quite fun to watch Chambers jam his knee into Jackson’s throat over and over again. Seriously, click on the photo if you haven’t seen the dunk or need a refresher. It’s wonderful. So happy birthday, Tom. And thank you from TV viewers everywhere. (It’s also Derrick Coleman’s birthday today — whoop de damn do.)
I’m trying to think of the most enduring image of Darko Milicic as a Piston, and to be honest I’m not sure whether I can come up with any. The only thing that sticks is him sitting on the bench during the NBA Finals with some sort of bandages over his freshly pierced ears — just one in a long line of poor decisions (see: hair). To be fair, Darko didn’t have a chance at living up to expectations set by being drafted in between LeBron, Wade and ‘Melo, but um, he still has potential, right? Happy 26th birthday, Darko.
Sam Perkins didn’t actually sleep through his entire NBA career — that’s just how he looked. Looks, actually. Big Smooth seemed to have a blood pressure of roughly 12 over 2, never getting flustered, making even “Never Nervous” Pervis Ellison look like a basket case. His career was forever intertwined with the other guy in this picture — from winning an NCAA championship alongside him in 1982 to hitting a game-winning three against his Bulls in Game One of the 1991 NBA Finals. The Bulls went on to win the next four games and the title, but Smooth had made his mark. Happy birthday, Sam.
