David Kahn is gone!
This must be how old people felt when the Polio vaccine came out. Or when a killer whale feels when it eats it’s trainer. Freedom!
I can’t believe he’s finally out of here. Who’s going to sign a 41-year-old Shawn Bradley next year or draft a toaster? Who’s going to chase our only superstar away? Who’s going to slowly apply lotion to his hands while watching reruns of Silver Spoons. That last one was speculation.
They didn’t even fire him, they just didn’t renew his contract. That’s some straight-up middle-school “I’m not even going to call her because it’s easier to just stand her up at the food court” style break-up. Okay, I only had one girlfriend in middle school and she dumped me, but I know how it feels and David Kahn is going to be crying in his Hypercolor t-shirt tonight.
But now that he’s gone, he’s got to do something with his life, right? What’s next in the career of a failed lawyer, sports writer and NBA executive? Here’s a few suggestions:
President of the Animal Planet Puppy Bowl: “Um, David, you can’t play turtles in the puppy bowl. They’re not even cute.”
Darko Milicic entourage member: “Hey Darko, can I borrow some manna from heaven? I haven’t eaten today. Do we have to live in Serbia?”
Renaissance Festival dork: He should actually do this. Ren Festers are as confused about history as Kahn is about basketball. He’d fit right in. Are Ren Festers the David Kahn of life or is David Kahn the Ren Fest of basketball?
Wu-Tang Clan tribute band manager: Only hires white rappers. Trades white RZA and GZA for Vanilla Ice. Signs the dude who did Barney Rubble’s rap for Flinstone’s cereal. Pays White Method Man the least amount of money.
New GM/President for the Los Angeles Lakers: Signs a 30-year contact with a no-fire clause. I can dream, can’t I?