Waiting to Exhale

(Author's note: Originally started 6-14-07)

Exhale - Marc Iavaroni.

Inhale - Steve Kerr.

Exhale - lottery pick.

Inhale - Grant Hill.

Exhale - James Jones.

Inhale - luxury tax.

We knew long ago that coach Iavaroni would be leaving the organization this summer, a loss offset by the Suns' loss in the lottery. Atlanta nailing the third pick alleviates the impact of Iavaroni's loss because the Suns would have used that pick to bring in a young big man, and it was the coach's job to develop such players. His departure is softened further by the fact that, of five head coaching vacancies in the NBA this offseason, Alvin Gentry is staying. Instead of having to replace two veteran assistants, the Suns can get away with bringing in another new face to the coaching ranks. Scot Williams has applied for the job.

Despite all the disappointment of the season so far, this is not the worst case scenario. Actually, the odds seemed to have favored circumstances playing out exactly as they have. Atlanta had a one in three shot at landing a top three pick, and those are good poker odds. In baseball, that's an all star stat. Steve Kerr's inclusion into the mix was retrospectively predictable, and the salary issues have been looming for two years. We knew this was coming.

Yet for some reason, we all fell under the spell of the number four draft pick in a loaded class. I stopped saying "4-7" well before the playoffs started, and everywhere we turned someone was wondering aloud what the Suns would do with the 4th pick in the draft.

Oops.

That's what we get for watching too much television and listening to too many experts. But, hey, we were all sucked into the fantasy. Even this guy (whom my buddy, Kelly Dwyer, demanded that we read*) speculated on the Suns trade future after the second round of the playoffs, saying "the Suns could use their lottery pick to try to find another athletic forward." That was on May, 23.

All the hype, and none of the payoff. When will the predictability end?

Four or five years ago, some friends and I were planning a party for one of our friend's birthday. Typically, parties for our group just kind of happened. It usually started with a phone call between two of us talking about how we had nothing to do, and after an hour or so of brainstorming and a quick trip to the grocery store, people just sort of showed up and we were in the middle of a party.

And they were always great parties, however intimate they may have been (usually six or seven regulars with a little fresh meat thrown in). Pete watched The Food Network religiously, so he was our default resident chef. And he was damn good, too. On one non-party occasion, he decided to make a soup from scratch with a lot of stuff that I generally don't like to eat. Onions, kidney beans, celery (which I can't stand cooked), and lots of good, nutritious stuff that I tend to avoid. Well, considering that I went through three servings in about 15 minutes, Pete decided to name it "Crack whore soup". This wasn't so much due to my suddenly ravenous eating habits as it was my insistence that he make more right then. Yes, I was the crack whore of the soup, and I am still proud of that distinction. Nothing pleases a chef more than concocting a dish that even Morris the Cat would devour greedily.

For parties? One amazing Sunday, Pete was in the mood to experiment with a standing rib roast - prime rib before it's been sliced into single servings. The logic that follows is pretty simple. We have this gourmet meat, why not take it a step further? Surf and turf, anyone? Prime rib, crab legs, steamed asparagus, mashed potatoes, home made garlic bread . . . and Guinness. Corona usually sufficed, but this was spontaneity at its finest.

Alcohol played a large role in our get-togethers. It wasn't that we needed it to have fun, but in the context of a party, it proved vital in preventing such maladies as, say, Massive Sperm Build-up. Whether we stayed at home, went to the pool hall or a bar, we used alcohol in as many forms as we could find/make it as a way of transition from the banalities of working in a call center to the realities of young adulthood. As long as we maintained a certain degree of a medicated state, we coped with the fact that we were slaves of corporate America. These events and the key elements of food, alcohol, and weed were all that protected the world from Operation Mayhem taking place in downtown Tempe.

The birthday party was planned two weeks in advance. The day of the party, I went to pick up Pete and his girlfriend, and they immediately informed me that I had been designated as a driver. No, I was not happy about it. Yes, I agreed to it because I was the logical choice, as I was most likely to resist the temptation of the drink.

I was also the least likely to resist the temptation of our friend's stunningly hot, barely legal younger sister. It wasn't that I was trying to get in her pants. She and I just got along really well because we were both trained dancers. That, and whenever we were all hanging out, I was the one that received the unexpectedly long and comfortable goodbye hug. So when she walked up to me at the party with a tray of Gummi bears soaked in vodka, how in the world was I going to say no -- especially when she was spoon feeding them to me?!

I don't remember much of the party after that, except for Pete kicking me in the ribs while I was orally expelling excess toxins at the side of the house and yelling something about how he was going to have to get a cab.

Oops.

Steinbeck was no fool. The best laid plans, indeed.

Unfortunately for me, the Suns didn't have a smokin' hot younger sister to bring in Kevin Garnett or the fourth overall pick. Instead, we all became the designated drivers for the Hawks and whomever wins the KG sweepstakes in late September. Hopefully our team doesn't suffer the same effects as I did in my role as DD.

The Suns have other concerns, now, and it's all just a matter of time before we know where our team stands. In the mean time, I'm just going to hold this one sweet breath, and wait.







*Note: Kelly Dwyer basically said that Harlan Schreiber's blog is what inspired him to start his career as whatever-it-is-that-he-is. What cracks me up is how he describes the guy.

"Schreiber's take is often a nuanced one, you won't see too many black-or-white pronouncements with this guy; mainly because he knows the game, and respects his readership. I love that. I don't deserve that, but I love it."

I like to think that the "respects his readership" line is a personal dig, because everything he says about that guy is at least as true about mine.

"[Y]ou'll just have to steady yourself with actual, honest-to-goodness NBA insight. Schreiber's about as best in the blogosphere - or mainstream media, for that matter - when it comes to that insight."

Thanks for the compliment, KD.