Throwback Thursday: The Dennis Rodman Experience

Basketball Banter just celebrated its 5th birthday and the party was off the hook! Kendrick Lamar performed, Kendrick Perkins hosted, and all sorts of NBA stars came out to show love.

In all seriousness though, much love and appreciation to everyone who's supported this blog over the years; whether it's those who've helped me with connections, helped me build my reach by sharing social media content, and especially those who've bantered about basketball, both in online and in person. I started doing this with provoking thought and discussion among both casual and hardcore NBA fans in mind, and it's always great to hear I've been able to do that. Profound thanks.

Since it is Thursday and all, I'm gonna go diggin' in the crates to share my favorite piece from these past five years with you guys: an up-close-and-far-too-personal encounter with NBA and Annals of Celebrity Antics legend Dennis Rodman.

This piece went up in February 2009; Banter was less than a month old, and for anyone who may have missed or forgotten, it was a totally surreal experience that should be taken in. I can still remember writing this in the back of class the following morning; completely aghast in awe as I zoned out my prof, trying to come to grips with just what the hell I'd seen. I'd braced myself for something inappropriate, but clearly not well enough.

So, without further rambling, I'll pass the mic (aka the cut/paste function) to my 21-year-old self, and let him tell you about the night Dennis the Menace came to town:

I work for a Halifax-based catering company that regularly puts on massive charity dinners at their multi-purpose facility, which are usually headlined by celebrity guests of honor. Over the past couple of months, I've been fortunate enough to catch many great acts on the company dollar; the hilarious Jerry Seinfeld, the inspirational Rubin "Hurricane" Carter, and most recently, the incoherent ramblings of Dennis Rodman.

The event in question was for the Progress Club, a community outreach and support organization that holds an annual sports dinner, attracting upwards of 1,000 people. Among the other celebrity guests last night were NFL and NHL Hall-of-Famers Jim Kelly and Bryan Trottier, Olympic gold medalist Adam Van Koeverden, and of course Rodman, who were escorted prominently to the head table by Las Vegas-style showgirls. Dennis refused to walk with his girl, insisting that she strut several feet in front of him while he staggered behind (giving the first of many indications that he was highly inebriated), not-so-discretely staring at her ass. Having been an NBA fan for years, and well-versed in Rodman's antics, I could've predicted such things, but from the looks on the faces of hundreds of wealthy socialites in the audience, they clearly had no clue what they were in for. In retrospect, neither did I.

As the event carried on, the guests of honor got up one-by-one to address the audience. There were stories of Stanley Cup victories and Olympic triumph, overcoming adversity and seizing the moment; the usual stuff you'd expect from celebrities at a charity dinner. A few jokes were told, a few jabs made at fellow guests; it was light-hearted fun... And then came Hurricane Dennis, a storm which I stood in the eye of, ten feet away from the stage.

Everybody before him had a general tenor to their words, clearly a few things prepared and a message for the audience. Rodman, heavily bent on Sambucca and God knows what else, clearly had no idea what he was embarking upon when he drew the largest applause of the evening as he was introduced. When the raucous noise finally came to a halt, leaving a massive room in complete silence, some drunk dude in the audience yells out "I loved you in Double Team!". Whoever this guy is, he's clearly the early favorite for Man of the Year.

The Worm's speech began with an unceremonious bashing of the event's host (...and this was after a woman loudly asked him if he was "available later on"). TSN analyst Rod Black had begun the evening with an admittedly kinda corny cheering activity to amp up the crowd. "That was total bullshit", Rodman said laughing, which was followed with "...Nah, nah, I'm just playin' man, whatever your name is". He then turned to Van Koeverden, a kayaker, and referring to him as "the guy with the boat", gave him extended praise for...well..I'm not really sure what. These were the first signs of an incoherence that was about to take full form.

When it became obvious that Dennis was completely out to lunch and had no material to work with, Black intervened and asked him to tell a story, presumably something about playing with Michael Jordan, battling the World's biggest athletes as an undersized post player, or winning any of his five titles. With little hesitation, Rodman launched into a graphic re-creation of the previous night at a Newark airport bar, where a woman had propositioned to let him "fuck her while her boyfriend watched". Astounded and disgusted, there were a few laughs from the drunker audience members, while most sat jaws-dropped in the largest collective awkward silence you'll ever not hear...but it kept coming.

Black dug a little deeper: "Well tell us a story about the craziest thing you've ever done on the basketball court"...I immediately envision him saying something like "Well...this one time a referee was giving me lip, so I headbutted him" or "I chased a loose ball out of bounds and tripped over a cameraman many years ago...I decided it was a good idea to kick him in his junk", but he immediately comes out with "When I was with Carmen Electra...I did her on a basketball court...on her back. True Story". Unreal.

As his speech gradually lost its grip on coherent English, Rodman got into a story that began as his tale of upbringing in an empoverished neighborhood ("one thing we didn't have in the ghetto that alllllllll you people here always had growing up was opportunity"), delved into a revival of black/white tension in 60's southern US ("I was like wow...watching these white people coming through the neighborhood...blacks were beating on them, killing them..and today nothing's changed") and led to his legal troubles ("..I was a janitor at the airport...I stole like 50 grand worth of watches"), which allegedly helped him find basketball as salvation.

Before he got his act together and turned pro though, his mother abandoned him, leaving him unemployed and resourceless for a year ("I went to pack my bags...well, I had no fuckin' bags to pack"). He loses his composure and sheds a few tears as he tells the audience about the $20 and "get a job" note she left him as she ran off with her fiance. Even amid the hilarity and ridiculousness of what I've witnessed so far, my face goes stone-cold and my heart rattles. It's impossible not to feel for this man, who despite his immense celebrity has clearly led a troubled and turbulent life, understandably shaken 30 years later by those events. After this meltdown, Rodman loses all focus and breaks out into racially-charged rant, apparently about how he met the family that now runs his company. I'm sure he meant it as a touching tale of how inter-ethnic relations have grown over the years, but the intent is lost in translation as he drops the phrases "big, tall n*****" and "little white kid" no fewer than twenty times, swearing profusely and stammering repeatedly, before Black finally intercedes and cuts him off after 15 minutes of this tirade. He returns to his seat amid hesitant applause and the most "...what the hell did I just witness" grimaces since Michael Richards' last stand-up gig.

I don't really know what to make of it either. As I sit here the next day, still trying to wrap my head around the spectacle, I'm astonished by how deliriously inappropriate Rodman was, even having known he's never done anything PG-rated to speak of. Seeing the state he was in last night saddened me; here was pound-for-pound the greatest rebounder and defender ever to step on a basketball court beyond buzzin' and acting like he was with a few close friends rather than 1300 upper-classmen who weren't on the same wavelength. It was unfortunate, surreal; one of the most ridiculous things I've ever experienced. Being there was really beyond what words can describe, but hopefully I did a decent job.

Putting the "Dead" in Deadline

The Trade Deadline came and went last week; a date that had built up with blockbuster potential for months "climaxed" dully with the seemingly inevitable dumping of Danny Granger's contract.

Despite an army of franchises actively shopping attractive assets, and others seeking to shake things up, the market may have over-played itself. Many teams' asking prices were reportedly too high, leaving most parties at the trade table favoring the upcoming loaded Draft and Free Agent classes to make their moves.

So what now for the teams that seemed destined to make moves, but hesitated to pull the trigger? Were they wise in waiting? What can they expect going forward? Let's see which GMs have screwed themselves, and which should come out on top:

Boston Celtics 
Rajon Rondo still being a Celtic is among the more bizarre aftermath of the Deadline, with Danny Ainge suddenly holding onto a guy he'd been shopping for years, at what seemed like the most logical time to finally deal him.

The irony of Ainge's decision gets diluted when you consider that Rondo's actually a very good fit for a young team searching for its identity through a re-build, as a versatile cog for a smart coach who's a whiz with quirky lineups. Keeping him can't be an awful decision; he's a Top 15-ish player, just turned 28, and his market value could rise if Boston suddenly seems less keen on dumping him.

It's one of those hands that's hard to misplay; Boston might not have liked offers that came their way, but being left to rebuild with one of the NBA's best point guards isn't a Saw game, which Ainge may be realizing.

Toronto Raptors
Few GMs in pro sports history have developed reputations as movers and shakers as quickly and astutely as Ujiri. After ousting the Raptors' two ugliest contracts in moves that showed immediate + returns, Masai was rumored to be in talks around a deal for Kyle Lowry for most of this season.

Masai's inability to move Lowry is a minor disappointment, but hardly a fatal wound for Toronto. The reality is that Lowry's trade value has never been this high, and likely never will be again, so unless he's their point guard going forward, the time to bail was now. His superb play this season will absolutely earn him more money next year, and it's unclear if he'll be as fit and motivated with his new deal locked up.

Masai's track record might even be hurting his cause, with at least one (confirmed) case of a team unwilling to be "fleeced" by him again. Regardless, few people in NBA front offices - likely only Daryl Morey - understand trading assets like Ujiri, and with virtually every player in Toronto's rotation playing up their own stock this year, he'll have nice pieces to work with, even if Lowry is signs elsewhere.

Houston Rockets
Speaking of Daryl Morey, his own shrewdness has come back to bite him in the ass.

Two years ago, Morey snaked the criminally under-utilized Omer Asik from the Bulls with a "poison pill" contract that saw his originally meager salary triple in its upcoming final year.

In the meantime, Asik's been one of the NBA's most improved players, and best defensive centers, but Morey's attempt to pass the buck (literally) on Asik's bloated remaining year came undone. Teams were wary of the looming salary boom, and Morey's habit of usually being way smarter than the guy on the other end of the phone.

And so, after the passing of several team-mandated deadlines, and finally the League's, Omer Asik is still on the Houston Rockets, in a limited reserve role, openly unhappy, and due almost $15 million next season.

Minnesota Timberwolves
Among the League's relative disappointments this season (remember, this is still largely a David Kahn team), the Wolves are seemingly under pressure to release Kevin Love from the pack.

A continually visibly unhappy superstar whose contract expires after next year, Love will eventually leave Minnesota, but they can decide whether on their terms or his. The lack of action last week only hurts their rebuild timetable; it's not as though there won't still be teams lining up for him in the offseason, when offices with room to maneuver might be more willing to make a big play for a superstar.

The Wolves need to begin to treat this with urgency though. Love can't remain undealt going into next season; it will delay the inevitable, shroud their team in uncertainty, and give opposing GMs more leverage as his departure draws closer. This is just like ripping off a Band-Aid; it will hurt a lot less if done quickly.

L.A. Lakers 
Everyone and their grandmother on Twitter spent the weeks leading up to the Deadline suggesting that Pau Gasol was about to be dealt, but the Lakers were unlikely to get as much value out of Gasol as they could this summer.

The Lakers are unloading most of their payroll in July, and can either re-sign Gasol at a significant rebate via 'Bird Rights', or let him walk and have eight figures in extra cap room. That cap room is intrinsically worth more to the Lakers than most franchises; they're able to attract top-tier talent easily and will never have to overpay someone to join them.

Already armed with a fresh Spending License, and a very good shot at a high Lottery pick, this was probably good spot for the Lakers to bide their time.

New York Knicks
Carmelo's still a Knick, and the odds of him re-signing in a few months rest somewhere between New York's chances of making the Playoffs, and having a Lottery pick in this year's Draft.

Knicks fans, my continued sympathies.

North Goes South for All-Star Weekend

If you don't live in New Orleans, or aren't a celebrity/connected with an NBA franchise, you more than likely got a second-hand glimpse of the NBA's All-Star Weekend festivities. You missed the excitement of the live arena, the flavor of Louisiana, and of course all the shenanigans that happened off-camera.

Fortunately, there's exceptions to every rule. Basketball Banter Buddy Sean Francois being one of them. Sean's website, Hoop Heads North, had a chance to take in the Weekend through their #ReignOn promotion with Crown Royal.

Sean spent the weekend shoulder-to-shoulder with NBA's past and present, with event tickets, media availability, and VIP access to shindigs including a sit-down with the immortal Julius Erving. Yeah, chilling with Dr. J... Kinda makes up for the Dunk Contest.

Hoop Heads North will be rolling out exclusive content all week, sharing the awesome experience with those of us who weren't on the Bayou for the party. There's a preview up right now, and plenty more to come...

So stay tuned to HHN for Banter's (outsourced) All-Star coverage; and big thanks to Sean for giving us a glimpse behind the scenes. Keep Reigning On!