Mommie Dearest

Call him what you will – Little Mac…Baby “J”…Doc Hollywood – but don’t call him a Nevada basketball player anymore. That’s right. JaVale McGee, smoother than a Brazilian bikini line, took his mama’s advice and will now take his game to the bank.



Those in the know have pegged McGee to go in the middle of the first round. That’s instant millionaire turf there but that’s as far as things could go for him. Nevada basketball players have fared poorly in the big show recently -- Fuzzy…Sesh…Kirk – none making any impact for their teams (if they’re on a team at all) and all soon to be working with the rest of us shmos, punching a timecard and shleppin’ ‘til 5p rolls around.



The difference between them and Nevada’s newest defector is that they actually won something – you know, like conference championships, NCAA Tournament games, those kinds of things. JV never won diddly. He was a good follower, not so good a leader. Sure, he’d get his stats – HIS stats – but his teams, as a whole, were underachievers. The older JV got, the more he read his clippings…the more he believed them…the less his team won.



He’ll get his spot on the end of someone’s bench next year. He’ll learn quickly about lawyers, baby-mommas and scam artists. He’ll put in his two (or three…or one) and then he’ll be done, just like the rest of ‘em. What he’s gonna miss out on is the opportunity to grow as a player, as a leader, as a winner. No, he’ll be pickin’ splinters outta his ass next year – wearing the same old hang-dog expression -- like someone just kneed him in the cojones – leaving Nevada fans wondering what one more year would have taught him...and given us.



(8.-)