Era-ta: With Ferocity and Skill

A little time to think now (and if you're keeping score at home, that's two semi-pop references already: the title comes from an Atmosphere lyric, and the opening is all White Stripes), but not really time to write. Thus, a single shot of Era-ta for tonight. (Right off the bat, sorry for all the parentheticals. I'm in a mood. And where do these pics come from?)

I was thinking about two seemingly dis-contiguous things tonight and found a connection which I'd like to share. The first thing I've been mulling over was, of course, the Lakers' loss at the hands of the wily Nuggets Thursday night. Sigh. Sometimes it sucks being the fan of the underacheiving mega-force. Well, mostly because of the underachieving part. But I was thinking about this in the background while I front-lobally (never confuse me for a brain surgeon, but because it was this kind of cranial crack-shot work, I differentiate between it and the deep thinking that usually occurs in the background, and instead I call this) processed thoughts about who would be fun to share a locker room with (more actual/deep/not-pretentious...okay, not really thoughts on locker room chemistry at some future date). As my thoughts became mixed with my processes (and maybe I'm still mixing, maybe this melting pot is combusting towards implosion...), I centered on Kenyon Martin.

Nevermind what I think/process about him as a potential locker room presence. (And is my eventual discussion of such a topic further removed from reality as it is something that might actually be reported and not simply written upon conjecture?) The Kenyon Martin re-collection schema burst into my second under-grounded-(thought) stream and I realized the connection I'd been slowly mulling towards. See, the second subterranean water source had been welling up from the recesses of lottery fall-outs and after-maths. That's why/how I realized: oh, Blake Griffin reminds me of Kenyon Martin.

At first I thought he was somehow reminding me of Marcus Fizer, but that was too disparaging (that 2000 draft really was terrible). Look, it's not like Griffin is a highly touted defender (and enforcer) like Martin was coming out of college. And it's certainly not a dispositional thing. But perhaps it is a positional thing. The Fizer tell perhaps suggests I still have a tweener-phobia-era hang-up. Okay, they play the same position. And they're the same height. But I think what's really doing it for me is the slow trickle of whispers.

Yes, that's former commanderin-chief Bill Clinton and Hillary too

When I first peeped the inkling that Griffin wasn't the sure thing (edit: sure thing super star, and I can't find that link anymore...what's happening to me?) he's been cracked up to be, gears got set into motion. What did this remind me of? It was nine years ago, and...well, you get the picture. I'm not saying Griffin won't have a solid career, I'm just cautioning my giddily young internal fan against putting too much stock. (not wise anyway, in recession) Griffin could have as strong a showing as Derrick Rose, he could actually do something for that Clippers org., or he could have a career more similar to that of Martin. He could have his nickname stolen by a Sacramento guard half his size. He could play alongside someone who makes you think, "Wait, who was the number one pick? Not Carmelo?" Just saying.

One last note. Despite Griffin's suavette (pls. pron. as in naivette, i.e. soo-AHV-eh-tay), general dapperness, and charisma (the word, btw, taken out of the Atmosphere line that heads this post), his lineaments, or the epidermis thereupon, cannot help but reveal a certain boyishness in him. Almost a bookishness. I'm reminded of a comment I think FD made about Rondo vs. Rose. Rondo is the chiseled from (paradoxical-) primordial rock, smooth criminal. Rose is the acne blushed savant. Okay, not savant, but there again we have that naivette lingering around the edges of I don't know what. Anyway, with Rose and Griffin leading the charge for baby-faced, prepubescent athletes of the future, maybe my call for dorkier ballers will not go unheeded.

And maybe this is all stupid. I know practically nothing about college ball. Still, I wouldn't want to die Robert Zimmerman. I'm not satisfied just wading through the Reed Sea and the Egyptians' vanity, I want to part the Red Sea. Milk and honey for anyone who <3s all of this.

Posted in: Blake Griffin,Kenyon Martin