- Democrat Grimes backs Keystone XL pipeline in Kentucky Senate race
- China spends for 17 new warships as U.S. cuts back military
- In Japan, Obama plays soccer with a robot and warns students of climate change
- FDA proposes ban on e-cigarette sales to minors
- Wyoming gas plant explosion sends entire town fleeing
- Aborted fetuses from British Columbia incinerated in Oregon plant to make electricity
- Motolotov cocktail thrown a Brooklyn mini-mart
- 3 Americans dead in shooting at Kabul hospital by Afghan guard
- Running on empty: EPA slashes biofuel goals because of ethanol shortage
- ‘Gay Jeans’ that fade into rainbow-colored denim created
No more Fun for ex-Terps
So Steve Blake has elected to join Juan Dixon in Portland, Ore., clutching the faint hope of reprising their College Park magic there.
Their stint on Fun Street always was viewed through the rose-colored lens of a national championship, and overvalued, as if excellence in the NCAA somehow correlates to stardom in the NBA.
The postgame callers to Scott Jackson inevitably sang this flawed tune in varying tones, never grasping the elementary liabilities of both players. Neither has an NBA body, for starters.
As energetic as Dixon is in the passing lanes, he cannot overcome the limitations of his modest physique. He is condemned by genetics to be the 98-pound weakling at the beach. The opposition routinely kicked sand in his face.
Whenever Dixon entered the game in the Wizards-Bulls playoff series last spring, the eyes of Bulls coach Scott Skiles would reveal traces of glee. The backcourt players of the Bulls attacked Dixon with uncommon passion. It was ugly. It was unfair. But that is the NBA. There is nothing egalitarian about it.
If you have a weakness, it will be exposed.
And so it was with Dixon and Blake.
The adulation spent on them was misplaced, misguided, and the Wizards are stronger by subtraction in this case.
Dixon was ever more delusional with the Wizards, as blind as his supporters.
Confidence is a funny thing. Coaches want players to be confident. They also want them to have a clue.
Dixon came to believe in the power of his career .396 shooting percentage, however one is swayed by that cold number.
It is true that Dixon can be a competent shooter if his feet are set and someone else has done the work that merited his open look.
Dixon, though, is not content to be a spot-up shooter. He wants to be Gilbert Arenas Lite, which is how he came to be known as No, Don’t Do It, Don’t Take That Shot.
But he would do it anyway — dribble the ball in place for about 15 seconds before making a move that all too often resulted in a field goal attempt with an incredibly high degree of difficulty.
Once every four or five games, when deployed against the opposition’s backups, he would have a performance that set tongues wagging, and it would be Maryland all over again on the airwaves.
By Andrew P. Napolitano
Obama's veil of secrecy is pierced
- Pentagon plans to replace flight crews with 'full-time' robots
- 'Top Gun' for drones: Squadrons of carrier-based killers have Navy's approval
- Nevada rancher Cliven Bundy hailed as patriot, ripped as lawless deadbeat
- Obama avoids 'red line' for China, prepared to impose tougher sanctions on Russia
- In the company of a saint: Catholic Church will canonize Pope John Paul and Pope John XXIII
- Atheists win prayer battle against California city council
- Georgia's new carry law a big win for gun rights
- In its hunt for Senate, Republican candidates campaign against Harry Reid
- Washington Redskins' 2014 schedule opens with Texans
- America is an oligarchy, not a democracy or republic, university study finds
Top 10 handguns in the U.S.
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