Of course, I’ll get U of L’s hammer down of the Cats on the diamond, and another other sports item that’s caught my attention (and perhaps yours, though perhaps not), but I feel compelled to start with . . .
. . . Steph Curry.
Like most in my neck of the woods, I much prefer college hoops to that at the proverbial “next level.” But after the first Monday in April, I start paying attention to the play for pay guys. Because, you know, it’s the only game goin’.
And, the playoffs, when every possession makes a difference, can be pretty compelling.
But, bored Saturday night — thunderworks, especially pop ones hold little interest here — I checked out the Warriors/ Celtics. Where Mr. Curry and Jayson Tatum were putting on a mano a mano battle. They were throwing in treys from Newberry Street. Some from Paul Revere’s route to Lexington.
Curry’s were especially spectacular. Over double teams. A jab step here. A side step there. Giving up the rock, circling the lane, making a hard cut through a pick, getting it back and launching from 28 feet in, oh, a half a nanosecond.
Entranced, and feeding my hoopaholicism, I tuned in Monday night when Golden State was playing in Philly.
Curry continued his transcendence.
His shooting skills, The. Best. Ever., were jaw dropping. Jaw breaking actually. I mean, one berserk make from distance after another — it’s not like he’s a stand and shoot guy — and my mouth was continually open. I mean, when I went to bed after the game, my jaw was stiff. Really, that’s just about almost totally true.
While watching I’d just start laughing at the ridiculousness of his talent. In one five minute stretch, Curry tallied twenty.
In a city where fans have been known to sacrifice the last few bites of a Dalessandro’s cheesesteak to throw at a home town player, they were chanting “MVP”, as Curry led the visitors to a W over the 76ers.
I’ve been blessed to see four players in person, actually up close, whose games were so otherworldly, they stand apart from all others.
The Hawk. (Connie Hawkins, I advise, because some of you might have a hole in your resumés.)
While what I saw in those two games was over the telly, it was equally otherworldly.
Stats really are incapable of telling the true tale of how unbelievable Curry is shooting the ball, and how creatively and craftily he works for his bombs, but I’ll give you this.
In his last ten games, Steph Curry has netted 72 threeballs. In 143 tries. Yes, he’s hitting more than half of his attempts. During that stretch, he’s had two tilts with 10 from downtown, and in two others, he went Spinal Tap and drained 11.
* * * * *
As for the Cardinal nine’s smackdown of the Wildcats in Lexington, I haven’t much really astute to observe.
For several reasons.
During the beginning of the five run top of the 1st, I was watching the reading of the jury verdict. When I got back to the game, there were three Cardinals on the pond. Trey Leonard, HBP. Lucan Dunn, Base on Balls. Dalton Rushing, 2 run double. Luke Brown, RBI Fielder’s Choice.
UK hurler Zach Kammin’s ERA was getting worse by the batter. So too the Wildcats’ first two relievers. The Cards added 2 in the 2d, another couple in the 3d, and for good measure, put another deuce up in the 4th.
So, I started flipping to and from “Around the Horn,” and “Pardon the Interruption,” my normal daily 5:00 to 6:00 routine.
Cooper Bowman and Alex Binelas each got three knocks. In the first four innings alone, Dalton Rushing smacked a single, a double, and a homer.
Carter Lohman got the W, but pitched only two innings. Dan McDonnell was looking for some satisfaction from youngsters in the pen. But, frankly, didn’t find any.
In the mid-week affair, he needed to bring in stalwart Adam Elliott for the last 5 outs.
And, Henry Davis dropped a rifle shot peg from RF Levi Usher, to allow a Kentucky run.
* * * * *
While only a peripheral soccer fan, I watched the Super League debacle with bemusement.
And, having mentioned it, I realize it’s way too complicated to explain what happened, how it was a money grab by the rich trying to get richer.
Plus few of you could care.
But it was something like if Alabama, Clemson, Oklahoma, Southern Cal, Ohio State, Michigan, Florida, Georgia, LSU, Notre Dame and, say, Penn State, said we’re forming our own Super Football Conference, and we’re only going to play each other every year, and maybe one other invitee. And make lots of TV money, And Beer money and Insurance money, which we are would keep for ourselves.
The universal blowback against the Dirty Dozen soccer club’s ploy was so swift and vitriolic, the whole scheme fell apart in 48 hours. Head rolled.
Let it be a lesson for us all.
— c d kaplan