Yesterday was the national championship game, so you’d think today people would be talking Nick Saban and A.J. McCarron and Tide dominance.
Uh, no.
The game sucked. The side goodies, however, were awesome. Beyond awesome. First, there was Brent Musberger, the all-time broadcasting great, pining for Katherine Webb, the reigning Ms. Alabama and McCarron’s girlfriend. Then you had Darnell Dockett, moderately famous Arizona Cardinal, accidentally Tweeting his phone number to Webb, with hopes of taking her to the Wing Stop and, later, a strip club called King of Diamond.
And that wasn’t all …
Last night, the Celtics and Knicks met at Madison Square Garden. It was, as expected, a chippy, physical game, with New York’s Carmelo Anthony and Boston’s Kevin Garnett going at it. Later, after the final buzzer sounded, Anthony could be found outside the Celtics’ bus, apparently waiting to bust Garnett’s head.
Why was he so mad?
Because, reportedly, the Celtic captain said something about his wife, Lala Anthony, that was so offensive … so awful … so heinous that it must be repeated here, and only here.
He said (gasp!) her vagina tasted like Honey Nut Cheerios.
Where to begin?
First, I fucking love Honey Nut Cheerios. They’re beyond delicious; right there with Life and Honey Bunches of Oats atop the cereal chain of love. They have the boring shape of plain ol’ Cheerios, but with zesty, powerful flavor. Mmmm—I can eat two bowls in five minutes. Hell, I have.
Second, how is that an insult? Granted, it implies Garnett has, in fact, tasted Lala Anthony’s vagina. But, assuming that’s not true, wouldn’t the world be better served were all private parts to taste like breakfast cereals? Back when I was in college, a kid in my dorm named Karl used to say, “If my neck were long enough to reach my penis, I’d never leave the room.” Well, imagine if sex didn’t just feel good—but tasted like Captain Crunch and Lucky Charms. Friggin’ awesome.
Third, even if Anthony were right to be upset … the bus? Really? Are you 3? Shit talk happens in basketball all the time. All. The. Time. Hell, earlier today, on Twitter, some guy named Matt Leister called me a “douche.” One could argue—with conviction—that being called a douche is worse than being told your wife’s vagina tastes like cereal. That doesn’t mean I’m planning on beating Matt up. Or reminding him that I’ve never heard of him. Or that he only has 37 Twitter followers. Or …
I digress.
Unlike Anthony, Dockett handled the whole thing well. First, he rightly noted that his accidental Tweet skyrocketed Webb’s Twitter following from a couple of thousand to (hot dang) 175,222. Second, he was able to laugh at himself.
ESPN, on the other hand, predictably shoved one of the all-time wonderful voices under the bus. The 73-year-old Musberger was forced to apologize for, in effect, noting that the Alabama QB dates a hottie. Did he go too far? Maybe—but, really, who cares? It was sorta funny, sorta embarrassing, but gave life to an otherwise unbearable game.
Now, I’m off to find some grub. Could sure go for a bowl o’ cereal …
