DR. J'S SUPER THINK TROLL ASSOCIATES

What do Patrick Ewing, Rumeal Robinson, and Wayne Marshall have in common? They all went to high school at Cambridge Rindge and Latin, and they were all born in Jamaica -- except for the Wayne Marshall who submits the following "imaginary archaeology" of a mysterious recording by Dr. J; he does share his name, however, with a Jamaican singer and has written extensively about reggae (and hip-hop, reggaeton, and global club music) at his blog, wayne&wax. Follow him at @wayneandwax.

On one very merry late 70s Christmas morning, a young Markie D, yet to rise to local stardom as one of Boston's several answers to Doug E. Fresh, found in his stocking a cassette boasting amazing contents: basketball "SUPER THINK" according to Julius Erving. Released by the suspicious but nonetheless seemingly credible TROLL ASSOCIATES, Dr. J's informational and inspirational spoken-word performance had a reportedly noticeable effect on Markie's ability to penetrate the perimeter. But when those dividends dried up around the same time hip-hop came to town, the tape was -- somewhat ceremoniously -- taped over, scotch guarding the knocked-out knockout tabs that tell cassette-players to keep their heads to themselves. (As noted clearly on the cassette, duplication was prohibited, but the word was mum on overdubbing.) For several years the tape played host to the latest greatest raps one could catch on the airwaves, or copy via visiting cousins from New York.

Eventually, it served as the eye-popping receptacle of 9 minutes of beatbox fury, bragadocious cautionary tales, and reverb freakouts, carefully packed and mailed to DJ Magnus, whose "Lecco's Lemmas" radio show on WMBR (and later WZBC) was fast becoming the primary platform for the Bean's aspiring rap talents, including a young, recently-relocated-to-Brooklyn M.C. Keithy E (aka, the late, great Guru of Gang Starr).



The broadcast of these 9 minutes may have warped more minds than the TROLL ASSOCIATES' original and perhaps even taught more listeners the proper method for driving the lane despite that the wisdom of Dr. J had by this point been encrypted into a series of throat clicks, pursed-lip bass bombs, and allusions to famous German automatons counting in Spanish. Recently rediscovered by vinyl librarian Pacey Foster, Boston's premiere hip-hop historian and assistant professor of management, now you too can learn how to dunk like Dr. J, or at least maybe rock the bells like Markie D.

Too Good for Twitter

A lot of rad, fragmentary ABA footage, with Polish (I think) over it. This stuff never gets old, and I never feel silly for liking it so much.

NOTE: My brother in DoC Ken has pointed out that this is the doc Long Shots, which I've posted here (all four parts!) in the past. However, I like the Polish version better. Face it, old footage is better with no sound or music. The past is silent and scary.

Sprinkles

Three things of note:

-The above very interesting Dr. J. video. Get involved, get into it.

-I was a guest on The Dagger Report, where Mike Prada, Kyle from Truth About It, and myself let the Arenas anguish and confusion flow.

-Finally, I am happy to announce that tonight's meeting of the SSSBDA went fine, though I want to change it to SSSDBA, which stands for "Death by Arrival." Instead, I was convinced to change our name to "Basketball Death Association." However, I would also like to announce the official end of my fatwa against Stephen Curry. No, he's still no point guard, and the non-stop love for him must eventually expire. Tonight against the Cavs, though, he looked damn good: streaking to the basket with quickness and agility, beating defenders with the crossover, displaying real urgency when knocking down threes, and filling up the stat sheet. Curry can play on or off the ball, pile up points from all over, and move the ball around well enough, too. He's creative and exciting, and is at his best when his confidence guides him, but is also more than a little careless. In other words, he and Monta Ellis are turned out to be more like each other than we'd ever expected. Ty Keenan just called him "the white Monta."

Also worth noting: While Curry remains the darling of purists around the world, he's also an ideal Nellie guard (Ellis comes up short on that count). And only in that haywire system by the Bay could this golden boy actually thrive. That's a cruel irony, but one I can applaud all day, and maybe even makes me like the kid a little more. Not just grudgingly respect him.

Two Grabs at Once

Please, keep the excavation of athleticism blazing far into the holiday season, whenever that ends. But I beg thee, take heed of this old and crumpled PSA, from a time when hair was hair and socks were socks. Is that Auerbach with the official voice-over at the end? Kind of like West, but when it comes to official league approval of stuff.

Share your warmest wishes here!

(Speaking of that video, here's some Larry O'Brien real talk from my main man Tommy Craggs. I am fine with Stern-bashing as long as his essential mythic nature is not called into question. To me, the man rests beyond causality or the most granular forms of history. O'Brien is the opposite. Sleep well, little pumpkins.)