“Big Baby” is the perfect nickname for Glen Davis. He’s doughy, he’s whiny and he looks like a giant baby a la “Honey I Blew Up The Kid.”
Oh yeah, I could stand to lose a few pounds myself. I have a built in life-saver around my waist and a hedgehog bit my arm-fat yesterday. I’m not going to go into detail, but I swear to God that’s true. And I’m bald and tall so I look like Bull from Night Court mixed with a sea buoy. But hey, I’m not a professional athlete, am I? How is it possible to be a fat basketball player? All they do is run marathons, climb Mount Everest every week and pay $100 million a year on lypo-suction chest-pump surgery. (I might be slightly misinformed). He must have to eat 40,000 calories a day to stay in that shape. Do they give him a doughnut for every point he scores? What’s he going to look like when he quits playing? Marlo Brando would tell him to hit the treadmill.
Well, he got a lot of damn doughnuts last night because he torched us for 28 points.
Pathetic. We weren’t supposed to lose to Orlando. We had this game won. We dominated most of the first three quarters it seemed. And then something happened. Kevin Love did or said something to Glen Davis. Maybe he threatened to take his Hungry Man TV dinner away because he went nuts and we just fell apart.
You know it’s a disappointing loss when the only thing that makes you feel better is talking shit about the town.
Orlando! Nothing but strip malls and swamps.
Here’s my impression of every conversation that’s taken place in Orlando ever:
“Hey Pa, how you gonna cheer for the OR-LAN-DO Magic now that a gator bit off both your arms?”
“Would you believe it, Junior? Glen Davis himself donated 45% of his butt-fat to create new arms for me. That’s 500 lbs of new arms! Yeehaw!”
Okay, I’ve never been to Orlando.
Or even Florida.
Let me cope how I need to cope.