Pocket Full of Skipping Stones
(Channeling Scoop Jackson)
This past NBA offseason had to have been one of the quietest in recent memories. No big deals and no free agents trading zip code numbers for a different kind of math…
Sure, we had Fin-Dog and Nick the Quick jumping to the Riverwalk to earn that bling…Sam I Am and The Jazz Message of Cat Mobley to finally give the Clip Show that push…’Yell, D-Jones, and L-Hughes joining ‘Bron to bring that murda-murda-mo-murda back to Cleveland…
…but nothing Diesel-sized headed to the M.I.A.
And then again, one might have flown under our radar…
Skip to My Lou. To the Hou.
Bringin that Rucker Park attitude. To the land of Chopped-and-Screwed
Just like Willie D, when he said, “I go to New York and kick they ass back to Texas”
Or for those who ain’t old school: “Back then, they didn’t want him…now he’s hot, hoes all on him.”
Skip earned his stripes. And1 Tour hustlin, Fresno State scufflin. Came up in Brew-town and headed North of the border. Broke out on South Beach and earned that NBA luchini. That Marcus-Camby-knows-damn-well-he-doesn’t-need-a-clothing-stipend money. Most of his And1 homies respected. He lived the dream.
But back up in the T-dot, Skip clashed with Sam Mitchell. Mano a Mano. Grown man talk. Tears were shed, but you knew they were tears of desire.
Then the call came. H-Town. T-Mac’s town. Ming’s Dynasty. Stro’s show. In a city with a championship tradition, but lacking that real killer instinct since the days of Mad Max, Kenny the Jet, and Dream Shakes 2 for a dollar…
So now he stands.
Ready to get the Larry-O all candy-painted and tricked out and bring it back to The Fifth Ward.
(End Transmission: Seriously, we’re really excited to see Rafer Alston in Houston. And Eric Neel, if you don’t stop giving us highly ambiguous shout-outs, YOU COULD BE NEXT).