I’m so unbelievably angry right now that I need another 12-15 hours before I’m of any use to anybody. Those of you who don’t watch basketball… oh, what does it matter, you stopped reading when you smelled what this was about.
As such, I’m going to let someone else do the talking and linking for me today- none other than Greg (GFWD) himself, who penned one of his best group emails ever this evening, after hearing of Kendall Marshall’s injury. I hope he won’t mind the publicity. Here it is:
Obviously, no one out of Chapel Hill is talking. You heard Roy.
I wrote my friend, an orthopedic surgeon who repaired my second Achilles tendon rupture back in 2000. He wrote back and shared the following with me:
“I had the same injury my junior year. I played a rugby match the next week, but had to pull myself out at the half. I then missed the entire spring lacrosse season because it didn’t go on to heal. Did he have it fixed? If he had a screw put in it he can probably play. Otherwise he’s screwed.”
My doctor friend went on to suggest that they should use a compression screw during the surgery to ensure that he might be able to play.
Not surprisingly, I was not the only one with that bright idea to “consult” with a doctor. My friend Jason Lina sent me a link to this article.
Here is some info on the type of injury from my friend Jonathan.
As a side note, all I could think about while watching the remaining games tonight was how sadly ironic it is that Kenny Smith has to be objective talking about these games in the studio, having suffered one of the other ill-timed infamous wrist breaks on a UNC team that was also destined for a long and deep tournament run.
You may not like Carolina.
You may think we get too many calls.
You may hate Roy’s “Huckleberry Hound” schtick.
But we do not play dirty.
We don’t groom thugs.
Check out the play that injured Kendall from my friends Betsy and Tim.
Roy actually said he thought it was just a hard foul. He likely said that without the benefit of having seen the “wink” (see below) and the replay above where that little bitch sends a forearm shiver into Kendall’s chest. Those things add a little more context to everything that happened in the game.
The thing I hate most about this tournament is when you let oafs from subpar conferences into the dance with the big boys. Here’s a link to the dirty little bastard with a profile picture that makes you understand why some animals eat their young.
It’s not cockiness to point out the fact that someone like Kendall plays the game on a higher plane than most other players. So, when you get beaten by him, you don’t take your forearm and shove him while he’s in the air. You let him score and regroup or you foul him while he’s on the ground. You act like you’ve been there before. Apparently, that’s not the case if you’re a little punk thug bitch playing for those Creighton cretins. (Before I cooled, I had a different c-word here).
You play dirty.
You also swipe unnecessarily at Henson’s wrist.
I might have forgiven the Creighton foul that earned Big John a technical, if the CBS cameraman hadn’t caught that catamite “winking” at the Creighton bench, as though he had just followed through with the coach’s orders to “sweep the leg.” In case you missed it, my friend Tim sent me this.
I have never wanted to reach through a television screen so badly. Almost made me wish I had powers like Darth Vader so that I could have remotely knocked that little bitch’s chewing gum into the upper deck.
I wouldn’t be surprised if this kid has several earmarked copies of “Catcher in the Rye” lying around his dorm room and routinely pens letters to Jodie Foster in between dissecting live animals.
It didn’t end there. Before the half, their point guard swiped down hard on Henson’s wrist under the guise of trying to make a play for the ball. It’s what sent Henson–who otherwise played superbly–to the bench early.
All during the game, I was telling people how much I wanted to have a player like Julius Peppers on our team. A player who could keep opposing teams from playing dirty.
I don’t mind tough. The Wolfpack played us tough. They played hard, inspired, and tough. Not only was it fair and legal, but it also made both teams better. I think they’re in the Sweet Sixteen largely because of that game.
I am fine with tough players.
I hate dirty.
If I were the coach for Carolina, I’d always have a kid on my bench who ate nothing but nails and broken glass and shaved with a straight razor that he had to replace twice a day because his beard dulled the blade. The kind of guy whose muscles had muscles and made hardened prison yard thugs “shart” themselves whenever his face appeared on the television screen…
I’ll grant you that Zeller occasionally tries to exaggerate an offensive player’s contact in hopes of getting a charge call. In fact, he tried tonight early in the game and he didn’t get the call. That’s gamesmanship and nothing screams karma like missing the charge call and instead getting a blocking foul called on you.
To any such allegations of flopping, I would say, “Touche”. But, with respect to Creighton’s bespectacled little punk bitch center, I offer you this gem.
What this Creighton chump did, by contrast, has no place in the game. It’s less of a good defensive play on Zeller and more of an outright battery.
I don’t ever want to wish any injury on a player for another team, but I do hope that karma one day helps Creighton to reap what it’s apparently teaching its players to sow.
That would be poetic justice.
Let’s hope that Kendall’s surgery is successful.