I was busy earning my keep last night during the NBA draft. The Pistons merely picked D-league fodder, especially after trading away their first rounder, D.J. White, who looked like he could be Jason Maxiell Jr, for a pair of Seattle second-rounders. The first of the two, Walter Sharpe, is described as being "a bit raw;" he'll get the Amir Johnson Memorial Locker in the D-league. I would have hoped they grabbed Joey Dorsey, who looked a lot like a young Ben Wallace in Memphis' Final Four run; Portland grabbed him with the next pick.
The interesting thing about the Pistons in the post-season, other than bringing Michael Curry on-board as head coach, was the rumors of a Prince-and-Billups for Carmello Anthony trade. Denver turned it down, but I could see it helping both teams. However, the signal that sends is that Joe Dumars is ready to hand the reins over to his Mini Me, Rodney Stuckey.
I don't understand the Nets trading away Richard Jefferson to Milwaukee for two journeymen, unless it's a salary dump. I also don't understand the Bucks then picking Joe Alexander with the 8th pick; you don't spend that high a pick on someone who isn't going to start, unless they picture playing a lot of small ball with both Jefferson and Alexander playing forward at the same time.
I have a hard time thinking of Michael Beasley without thinking about a Mrs. Beasley doll that was Buffy's sidekick on Family Affair; my sister had a talking Mrs. Beasley doll with (as per my motto above) a chatty ring. However, he'll probably turn out to be a nastier version of Luol Deng; he, Shawn Marion and D-Wade will get the Heat back in the hunt in a hurry, depsite Pat Riley's lusting for a point guard.
O.J. Mayo? Somehow, I see him being the next Harold "Baby Jordan" Miner, who was a fellow USC matriculator who never really blossomed at the pro level. I could wind up eating my words, though.
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