“The Odd nigga with a spoon in your danimals
As hungry as a cannibal, trapped in a van of cantaloupes
Harder than granite, hoes know I’m coming
With the grand force of Van Damme’s fist in a damn cannon so
Fans catch us on Animal Planet, tracking hoes
And attacking faster than foes can change the channel, whoa”
- Earl Sweatshirt
Hey everybody – the Prophet here, This is Lux’s second article for the Bible of Ball, the AlmightyBaller.com
I loved this shit. It’s one of those things where if you disagree, it’s not a difference of opinions: you’re just wrong.
But you’ll love it. No worries.
I’ve decided to set up a cabin in the Minnesota hinterlands for the season. I brought flannels, rifles, and enough jerky to feed a Hessian regiment or two. I spend these nights huddled around the wood burning stove and hoping the heat won’t escape. On the Greyhound two young men in their Heat jerseys kept rapping J.Cole lyrics at me. I knew then my path would be hard. Those two would never be able to hack it. But me? I’m hard. Years of watching garbage basketball and looking for anything resembling hope has made me strong. I’ve been in the shit. My stare goes a thousand yards. The cold? The beasts? The fried foods and butter based sauces? They are nothing to me. I am strong.
It was supposed to be dark out here. The sun wasn’t going to shine all season. I was doomed to be sifting through muddy water looking for tiny chunks of gold. NOT SO! Good lord, may the bounty never end. I ain’t smokin’ blunts in a hot tub listening to Teflon Don, but compared to hiding from ghosts under a layer of permafrost this is pretty nice. Sure, there’s the cold wind of Kevin Martin’s ill-advised jacks soaring past the rim. There’s Andrew Wiggins spending a whole possession in the post while all the crops shrivel and die. Ricky Rubio’s shot may not be as wet as it looked on night one, but it’s a sight less dry than the sandpaper it was last year.
Poke your head into the cabin and you’ll wonder why Earl Sweatshirt’s first album is playing on a loop. Fair question, things don’t get less Minnesota than that, yet here we are. It’s for KAT, though. If you’ve heard the album, you knew that shit the second I mentioned it. When Earl dropped I knew that there was this crew of young rappers out of LA doing cool stuff, but I was lukewarm on what I’d heard. Then came Earl. The youngest member of the crew and already showing so much potential. The single was great, but the album rocked my shit. Towns game one was cool, but game two my dude was just quoting Earl. “Hungry as a cannibal trapped in a van of cantaloupes.” Hitting jumpers, going to work in the post, playing shockingly coherent help-side defense. Sure, he barely boxes out, but no one on that team does (seriously, you’d think a team with that much front line talent could keep a Mason Plumlee off the glass). That’s why they lose. They’re young. Who cares though? It’s all awesome.
Every pinpoint pass from Rubio feels like a hot cocoa in the winter. Once in a while Wiggins will leap and for a split second at the apex it’s like gravity is deciding whether or not to just let him go this time. Shabazz scores like someone dancing to The xx. Zach Lavine plays with the drool inducing physical ability that reminds me of someone who fears his own potential. Sometimes, though, he gets out of his own way and makes magic happen. Andre Miller is there! Kevin Garnett too! They’re so old! I love it! Gorgui Dieng has done some nifty stuff I think. This team is a tease to me. There are elements I’m not seeing and some I don’t care about, but what I do get – the parts that stay with me – scream in my ears about a future that I CAN NOT MISS.
AMC just put out the trailer for their upcoming show Preacher based on one of my favorite series of graphic novels. The story is basically one of a preacher possessed by the progeny of an angel and a demon. He’s granted godlike powers and things go off the rails. The story is fantastic, and the trailer looked great. I’m all in. Premiere day, I’ll be watching. Whatever problems are present will emerge later. Right now that show lives in my imagination and it is perfect. The Wolves are in the same place. Every flash of greatness is proof of manifest destiny that will guide them to a title, leaving the rest of the league crush by their wagon wheels, while every failure can be written off as the result of youth. There will be no loses, just losing. It’s awesome. For the rest of the year I’ll be throwing on Earl (by the way Wiggins is Staples in this analogy), getting the fire going, breathing in the cold Minnesota air, and looking into the future.