The Sport's Authority

Evidently, Sterling and Silver don't go together - at least not anymore in the NBA. Commissioner Adam Silver harshly handed down an almost unthinkable and absolutely unprecedented punishment to Clippers owner Donald Sterling, who owned up to his repugnant remarks: a lifetime ban from the league, along with a superfluous $2.5 million fine, stopping short of sentencing Sterling to eternal damnation - although we get the sense if Silver had the (higher) power to so, he would have. A suspension would've been seen by some as a slap on the wrist. For Silver, stinging Sterling wouldn't suffice; he sought to scar him.

Beyond being permanent prohibited from any association with The Association, Silver will attempt to force the sale of the franchise, allowable if agreed upon by three-fourths of owners. Silver didn't just throw the book at Sterling, he threw a set of encyclopedias. However, a law library's worth of texts could be consulted before this conflict concludes.

We wonder, if words warranted this severe a sanction - and it's important to point out there wasn't any wrongdoing, only wrongsaying - what step would Silver have taken had Sterling been guilty of an actual discriminatory action as an owner: ordered his execution via a Silver bullet* and then served his head on a Silver platter to placate the pitchfork-possessing public, pissed-off players and pea-brained pundits? Instead, Silver lost his head over the hullabaloo, so Sterling lost his team.

This isn't a defense of Sterling, but we'll side with a dick before we do a dictator. We find it ironic that, for once, a reputed racist was lynched by a mob of minorities. We don't, however, find it justified.

At least Sterling learned a two valuable lessons: 1. Intolerance isn't tolerated under the sovereignty of Silver 2. Never trust a mistress; she may be wearing underwire - and also a wire.

*Silver would surely have shot Marge Schott

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Reaction Jackson

There are many methods to peacefully demonstrate, but a sit-in isn't one the Warriors coach would stage. Mark Jackson sounded like Jesse Jackson, when he suggested supporters of either squad should take a stand by not being in the stands for tonight's tilt. "I believe as fans, the loudest statement they could make is to not show up to the game." That's one way to take the crowd out of it. Odd, Jackson didn't advocate that action when the teams played in Oakland. It appears he was absentminded.

It's both unrealistic and unreasonable to expect fans to boycott attending. They have already paid for tickets (no one's buying at the box office the day of during the playoffs), so by skipping out, they're the only ones who suffer. If Sterling isn't embarrassed by being a bigot, he won't be by an unoccupied arena, which was once common for the club. It would be an empty gesture. Besides, you think they can't find seat fillers in L.A.?

Too bad for Jackson he can't treat basketball buffs like they're one of his assistant coaches and boot them from the building.

An Awful (Audio) Clip

Donald Sterling has, for decades, had a less than sterling reputation - mostly for penny-pinching, but partly for prejudiced practices. TMZ, which deals in dishing TMI, released a recording in which a man who is supposedly Sterling advises his then-girlfriend not to associate with black people and insists none accompany her to games. The language is clean, the tone is calm, but the directive is decidedly discriminatory. What remains in question is whether it came from the mouth of a man who has received the NAACP's Lifetime Achievement Award and was slated to be bestowed the accolade again in May, yet also lost a lawsuit alleging biased practices in renting his properties. Did we mention his former gal pal is of African-American and Mexican heritage (or that Sterling's wife is suing her for embezzlement*)? Racism isn't always so black and white.

While those comments circulated that Sterling didn't want people of a certain color in the crowd, a crowd with clout - Magic, Kobe, LeBron and Jordan - condemned him. The commissioner was more cautious, but while he preached due process, the team felt they had to do something, so as persons no less prominent than POTUS dressed down Sterling, they undressed. Prior their playoff game Sunday, players, in protest, removed their official Clippers warm-up jackets and left them at center court. If only removing Sterling, the league's longest-tenured owner, were so simple.

*apparently, she digs up dirt and gold easily

The Other Maverick Carter

Vinsanity* is alive and well in 2014. You may remember Vince Carter from his days a decade ago as a dunking dynamo in Toronto (make that dino-mo) or you may have forgotten about him during his dim days in Orlando. He's in Dallas now and his most memorable moment this season was being part of was J.R. Smith's shenanigans (Carter's headband was pulled by the noted prank-puller).

That was before Saturday, when Carter, who now operates below the rim, was also far from it as he sunk a three-pointer as the buzzer sounded for the Mavericks. Carter pumped to free himself in the left corner and he and the Mavs had to be pumped at the result, particularly since it backed the top-seeded Spurs into a corner.

At 36, he's the oldest player to hit a game-winner in the playoffs since 1997 and Carter recalled that the last time he'd taken such a high-stakes shot was 2001 (back when Dr. Dre was still producing beats, not Beats). After the meaningful make, Carter felt a high his most soaring slams could never supply.

*hysteria for him pre-dates Linsanity

Get Well-Dressed Soon

If the sidelines seems significantly less snazzy so far this postseason, it's because they are sans Sager. Craig Sager, TNT's roving, resplendent reporter is undergoing treatment for leukemia. Allow us to pause while we dab our eyes with a paisley pocket square. No media member dons more distinctive duds - and make no mistake, some of them are duds (his aren't the suit and tie Justin Timberlake was singing about*). Thus, the network's commentators coordinated clothes in a pin-striped suit salute to Sags - and we were never so glad to see plaid^.

His son subbed in his stead Sunday (Popovich was kind enough to handle the kid with the kid gloves), but junior can't fill his father's two-tone shoes. There are those who want you to get better clothes, we just want you to get better.

*on the suit scale, Sager is closer to Tom Wolfe than Tom Ford

^it was Easter, the one day men besides Sager put on pastels

Hop on Pop's Bandwagon

Apparently, once you honor Pop, you can't stop. On Tuesday, Gregg Popovich was named Coach of the Year for the third time in his career. He was the obvious and safe choice for the award, but we're unsure he was most worthy, after admitting that occasionally during timeouts he tells his team to figure it out themselves (is that laissez-faire or just lazy?). Here are a trio of candidates whose names should've popped up:

Jeff Hornacek, Phoenix. Evidently, he still has his shooter's touch. Under his guidance, they rose from the ashes, like some sort of mythical bird. A griffin? No, that's not the one. It'll come to us.

Steve Clifford, Charlotte. We had to consult a media guide to learn who was at the helm, but he must have had veterinary training, since he nursed these cats back to health* with a winning record and playoff berth. Even MJ wouldn't have wagered on that happening.

Tom Thibodeau, Chicago. Dang, D.Rose was dinged (deja vu) and Deng was ditched, yet Thibs was like a top-of-the-line juicer, squeezing out wins from the rinds left behind. He's who you want when things don't go smoothie, er, smoothly.

Not receiving any votes whatsoever: Brett Brown, Philadelphia. Naturally, he stood no chance of winning, which is the way 76ers management would want it. Even if there was a trophy for trying not to tank when told to, he'd still finish behind our other three nominees. It fits with the Philly philosophy: "You lose some, you lose some more^."

*and we hear he's healed a colossal, carmine canine whose name escapes us

^also: "a lot o' losses leads to lotto gains"

FireWoodson

Mike Woodson was a dead man walking the sidelines since Phil Jackon's arrival and Monday the Zen Master trimmed him like a branch on a bonsai*. Even in an eastern conference that was more watered-down than a light beer, the Knicks still fell short of the playoffs. Although they finished strong - winning seven of their last ten and four straight - but for most of the season, they were The Assocation's Malaysia Airlines flight MH370: inexplicably lost after taking an abrupt turn^.

J.R. Smith showed his support for his booted boss. "He was great to me. He treated me how he wanted to be treated."
Woodson let him run wild, like a red fox on the White House grounds. Smith stayed loose - as did his opponent's shoelaces - still the Knicks had 17 fewer victories compared to last year. Woodson tried to fall on his sword, but the press had already plunged it inches into him (Stephen A. Smith being a serial stabber; as if his shrieking wasn't piercing enough).

Woodson is probably relieved to be relieved of this duties. He didn't have the spotlight shone on him so much as a black light, exposing the series of stains and splotches, showing how unsightly the Knicks were. "He responded to the players," Smith said, but they failed to return the favor. He was a defensive coach whose best defender openly question his defensive scheme, so Smith, it seems, was Woodson's sole defender.

It's widely assumed that the gig will go to Steve Kerr. That sets up a situation where the proven coach who's an unproven executive would hire the proven executive who's an unproven coach. Only in New York are head coaches easier to remove than horses.

*the Jazz's Tyrone Corbin was tossed in the waste bin, too
^their black box contains audio of Carmelo counting the days until he can opt out

F-Ujiiri

Masai Ujiri is both pro-fan and profane. At a playoff rally Saturday, the Raptors GM channeled his inner Rob Ford (the crassness, not the crack-smoking), and took the stage to shout, "Fuck Brooklyn." That salty sentiment will cause the crowd to cheer if you're in mannerless Manhattan, but not in courteous Canada, a country where the only thing cleaner than its citizens' language are its cities. Toronto lost game one*, so the expletive wasn't eff-ective.

Torontoans must have been shocked (the pale know best what is beyond the pale) - all the more so when they learned the Raptors qualified for the postseason. Although Ujiri's four-letter word was surprising, Toronto getting four wins to take the series would be more so. Ujiri apologized and swore he wouldn't say that again.

*they've already fallen into a-hole

Sold Milwaukee

As a billionaire, Mark Cuban might not know the value of a buck, but he definitely doesn't know the value of the Bucks. He called them a "bargain" and "cheap" at $550 million, after a sale was agreed to on Wednesday, so we doubt he shops at the dollar store (and old owner Herb Kohl probably doesn't patronize Kohl's). That averages out to $36.6 million per win this season. Forbes estimated the franchise's worth at $405 million in January, which is $145 mill. less than the purchase price, meaning bargain hunting and buck hunting aren't one in the same. Maybe Cuban has been smoking some of Larry Sanders' stash.

In other major mischaracterizations, Klay Thompson compared Blake Griffin to "a bull in a china shop." That's a bunch of bull, although courtesy of that comment, the series between the Warrior sand Clippers is shaping up to be a pottery barn-burner. Griffin can clear a Ford Taurus (or its Korean equivalent), but that doesn't make him a taurus. He's closer to a cheetah: swift, strong and in complete control of his body. The only plates Griffin is in danger of damaging when he plays are techtonic.

Wrapper's Delight

It's been another Bonner - er, we mean banner - year for the Spurs, who rolled the rest of the league like a taquito, resulting in the league's best record and the number one seed in the West. Now that the regular season is over(you may have noticed we rested our starters down the stretch, a la San Antonio), players are free to have fun, which for Matt Bonner, who last turned heads when his face was on someone else's, translates to talking over tacos with hip hop stars. When he chills, it involves chilies.

He was supposed to riff with rapper Riff Raff, but like tomatoes in a tortilla, he fell through, so in stepped Bushwick Bill of the Gheto Boys, who we learned must have bad breath because he enjoys eating tuna on garlic bread and considers chicken a "barnyard pimp" (they do strut similarly - or is that our mind playing tricks on us?).

Clearly, there's no keeping the Red Mamba's goofiness under wraps, although we still say the silliest snake is (Monty) Python. The video was shot in Austin, where the Alamo folks flock to is a cinema that serves cerveza, and is supposed to be the first of several. What's next, a soda series: Drinkin' pop with Pop*? Here's what we want to see in the second short: The Red Mamba eating a Red Burrito with Redman.

* if Bonner agrees to be a guest, the ginger can gab about ginger ale

The Iron Ref

After 39 years in The Association as a referee, Dick Bavetta has made every possible call, except one: out sick. On Wednesday, Bavetta went to work for the 2,633rd time without an absence, surpassing the consecutive games streak set by white peoples' patron saint of strong work ethic, Cal Ripken Jr. As a septuagenarian, he's more than a veteran; he's a Bavettaran.

Bavetta's officiating resume includes 270 playoff games, 3 All-Star affairs and the 1992 Olympics (that gig had to be his "dream" job). By now, he's traveled even more than the players he's policed. Despite overseeing 12-15 tilts per month, he doesn't wear down because he wears five layers of socks. When a fan shouts at him "you stink" they're probably right.

Whistleblowers of any kind are seldom celebrated, but Bavetta should be. He never saw the worth in ducking an assignment, even if it was Kevin Duckworth. After his next game wraps up, players should carry him off the court - that way they'll carry something other than the ball for a change (it's the least they can do after he allowed it for the previous 48 minutes).

Jungle Gym

Ever since they went seven games last season in their playoff series with the Heat, the Pacers have been pounding their chests as if they were Tarzan. Lately, they've just been getting pounded. Indiana has suffered setbacks in six of its last eight games, including three straight double-digit defeats, culminating in a 26-point clobbering by the stampeding Spurs. Welcome to the jungle. We see you've found the quicksand.

"Some selfish dudes in here," Roy Hibbert harrumphed about the slump. On the contrary, Roy, your group of guys have generously given away first place in the conference to Miami. Third from last in assists, the Pacers don't pass (unless judgement counts), thus they've been passed in the standings. A certain 80's cartoon/toy line taught us "sharing is caring" and the Pacers paucity of it is glaring. Hence, Hibbert going Grumpy Bear.

Luckily, they have layups remaining against the least of the East: Detroit, Milwaukee and Orlando. The jungle may not have fun, but it has games. None may matter more than April 11 versus the Heat. To this point, there's only one Indiana we're confident can make it out of the jungle - and he doesn't absorb whippings, he administers them.

Boogie's Nights

Although he's averaging 22 and 11 this season, both career-bests, people have been slow to sing DeMarcus Cousins' praises, so he'll sing them himself. Cousins, recording under the musical moniker Boogie Smooth, is readying to release an R&B record, entitled Misunderstood. Clearly, Cousins wants us to feel his T-Pain. The first single is called "Emotional," an appropriate anthem for the man tied for the league lead in technicals. Cousins plans to put the 'ball' in "ballad."

Did the arrival of Rudy Gay inspire DeMarcus Cousins to become the next Marvin Gaye? Alas, the album isn't genuine (or should we say Ginuwine?). It was all an elaborate April Fool's ruse. This means the only R. Kelly Cousins will cover in the near future is Lakers power forward Ryan (and we don't believe he can fly).