Daddy! I WANT A STATUE!

First of all, the headline is pretty funny.

"Kareem Abdul-Jabbar Unhappy"

The man is known for many things– his iconic and unstoppable skyhook, the goggles, championships at UCLA, MVP awards in the NBA, appearances in Airplane! and Full House– none of which are his absolute contentedness. It's a headline in the vein of "Sky Is Above Us" and "Music Has Notes." It doesn't exactly shatter our idea of Kareem or make us feel like we're learning something new. It's a little more like what my friend used to say about listening to female artists like Sarah Mclachlan and Natalie Merchant; he always felt like he'd hear their songs and think, "Awww...what's wrong now, Natalie?"

As a kid, I read Kareem's autobiography, the second one, entitled Kareem. I was a fan of Showtime. I can rattle off the names of the role players on those Laker teams. I remember Kareem's big farewell season, when teams were gifting him rocking chairs and stuff. And as the brother of somebody who died of cancer, I have deep sympathy for his battle with leukemia. So I come from a place of at least moderate measuredness.

I get that Kareem is one of the Lakers' and the NBA's and the history of basketball's greatest players. Dominant at every level, a crazy specimen in both his peaks and his longevity. He's way more than a Hall of Famer. He's in the argument for most dominant ever (the argument only, though, because it's still Jordan) I will not argue that.

And that's precisely why this statue tantrum is so crazy. Are all the other accolades not enough? Was being recognized as an All-Star NINETEEN times a little condescending? Were you not awarded your SIX MVP trophies with enough fawning adulation? Were the SIX championships and TWO Finals MVP trophies not given enough weight in the public eye? Is it feeling a little snubby to have only won THREE NCAA titles and who knows how many All-NBA and All Defensive team spots? Is the fact that the NCAA banned the dunk primarily because of your dominance not quite outstanding enough?

Kareem has been honored plenty for his playing, which he stopped doing 22 years ago. Now, I'm not going to argue that there shouldn't be a statue of Kareem outside the Staples Center. That's not the point. Magic has one. Chick Hearn has one. I think Kareem meant as much to basketball as those two greats did.

The point is: since when are we entitled to statues? Since when does anyone DESERVE a statue? Especially while we're still alive? David slew Goliath and got a statue in Florence, Italy hundreds of years later; not even the place where he downed the giant. Beethoven only got a lousy bust that goes on top of your grandma's piano; the least she could do is dust it.

Want a statue today? Commission it yourself, Kareem. You've gotten more recognition and opportunities and money in your post-playing career than most of us will ever see in a lifetime. You're a legend. Even your biggest critics have to admit that. Now stop acting like a jealous toddler, EXPECTING a statue and move on with your life.

Kareem has a history of shoulder chips, abrasiveness, and moaning about opportunities that haven't been his, mistreatment, and more. Some of the chips are probably justified. But not the statue tantrum.

Finals, pt. 2

I feel like Magic with Kareem out. Except instead of Magic, I'm Rambis. And I've gotta play every position from the 1 to the 5. And I'm not sure how I'm gonna swing it. There's no How-To manual to get me through this. I've just gotta go.

Charlie is out. He's been carrying the blog on his shoulders. And, before the Finals end and Kobe gets to wear another ring and enters the next level in the Pantheon of Greats (though, if my sources are correct, he can ascend no higher in the Pantheon of Least Likable Douches), somebody has to punch out a part 2. You can't have a part 1 without a part 2, unless you're the Traveling Wilburys, in which case you just skip to part 3.

Some thoughts on the Finals:

Derek Fisher: How Does He Do It?
I watched the final game of the Western Conference Finals with at least 6 friends of mine who are insane Laker fans. One was wearing a Devean George jersey, the rest had some kind of Lakers gear on, some of it homemade. And even they - the diehards- didn't trust Derek Fisher. SO ERRATIC. They all admitted that they like him for his legacy and his on-games, but also for the fact that He's The Least Of Their PG Evils. Gotta love a championship team whose go-to PG gets the spot by sentimental default.

And to further the enigma, the guy taints his legacy with a pretty out-of-character, but probably all-time punk move on Scola only to be redeemed by hitting moneyballs in the Finals. EVEN THOUGH HE HAD BEEN A NONFACTOR AT BEST, arguably outplayed by the schizo-insecure Magic PGs, clutch shots make up for just about anything. Derek Fisher, how do you do it?

Dwight Howard: Russell in Reverse
Just like history will gloss over everything but the clutch shots for Fisher, Howard's near Russellian triple double (a block short) will likely be forgotten. And the memory that will carry on like Eagles Reunion tours and Jimi Hendrix beer cozies, logical or not, is the missed FTs. And, down the road, mark my words, you won't be able to see Howard's misses without seeing Nick Anderson (bless his heart)'s misses. Howard's got a long career ahead of him; I hope history is kind. But you know who's most relieved? Courtney Lee.

That's a start. I wouldn't call it a baby hook. But it's at very least a really, fiesty rebound.

Shame On Me: Vol I or Let's See How Far We've Come

Shame On Me, the newest recurring topic on The Black Converse, aims to get to the root of two core TBC beliefs: 1) It's the song that matters, meaning a good song is a good song, no matter who sings, wrote, likes, blogs about it, slogs it, is in its video; 2) Everyone is allowed some guilty (in this case: frowned upon by indie rock blogoscenti) pleasures that- when no one else is in the car (and, in brazen moments, when the car's full)- you don't change the station, maybe even sing along. Kind of like rooting for Kobe in the Olympics.

We'll explore what, for us, those songs/players are and why a) we like them and b) we know we shouldn't.

VOL. I
Matchbox 20- How Far We've Come

WHY I SHOULDN'T
- It's 3 AM, they must be sucky.
Their list of crimes against humanity (not to mention charges of being The Poor Man's Counting Crows, Wussier Edwin McCain, and The Guy Who Wrote That Crappy Santana Comeback song) is endless. Besides this song, I can't think of another Matchbox 20 song I'd go near with 15 terrible Santana PRS guitars.

- Two words: Rob Thomas.
His solo record is so terribly tailored for dumb, saccharine radio, for taking us in and out of commercials on Entertainment Tonight, for pleasing at least 72% of all focus groups in selected target demographics. People should stop insulting Adam Duritz by comparing him to this dude. Say what you will about the last handful of Counting Crows albums, but there's no way in hell Duritz would sell out to the popcrapstic degree that Mr. Thomas did. Every note feels like an autotuned clone from the same Photoshop lab that brought us Fergie and Nick Lachey. It's like watching (arguably) good-looking people do math.


- Rob Didn't Start The Fire.
I googled "How Far We've Come" and read about the video, which is apparently one of those big Billy Joel Didn't Start The Fire-ish laundry lists of shots that are culturally relevant and compelling. For example, just the bookends: the civil rights movement -> Obama. Ugh. I shed a tear on election day and still I will not watch it, Sam I Am. You can almost see the guys inputting the formula for most licensing opportunities...did I mention this seems like mathematic songwriting? I've heard Rivers Cuomo has an actual equation.

-"Exile On Mainstream?"
Really, guys? 9 out of 10 gynecologists recommend your music and you're gonna try to throw a Stones reference in there? Yeah, I get that you're playing the "We Don't Get Props Because We Write Hits" martyr card. But come on. Wasn't there a Lionel Richie album you could borrow from? PS: Liz Phair did it before and better than you with Exile On Guyville.

- The B-Sides.
Supposedly, the single features the band doing their version of the Black Crowes' "Remedy" and Bowie's "Modern Love." I will pass, thank you. No, really, thank you.

- The Lyrics.
Leonard Cohen it's not. Try it on for size and see its anthemic generalities and vague desperation/dissatisfaction almost move you. Almost.

WHY I LIKE IT
Maybe this is a bad way to categorize, because, man, I just like it. I do. I listen to it EVERY TIME IT COMES ON. Stereogum is welcome to come on over here and revoke any indie credentials I may have once had. (But first they'll have to stop pretending that Billy Corgan news is relevant. Those are my conditions.)

- Two more words: Rob Thomas.
I read an interview once, that unfortunately I couldn't dig up online, where Mr. Thomas talked about how bummed out it made him when he realized that Matchbox 20 was the band every other band liked to crap on. He gets some points for being self-aware enough to see and acknowledge that. And even more points when he followed it up by saying, "I guess Creed is my Matchbox 20." (For all of you thinking, "No way, Spike. I can't name a worse band than Matchbox 20," I believe Rob has done the research for you.) For all the flogging every other band and I give them, Mr. Thomas knows hooks. And this song's got hooks like Kareem.

- America's Newest Hitmakers. Speaking of hooks, in the Why I Shouldn't section above, I railed against how Mr. Thomas' solo record was Exhibit A in writing for radio, writing for media placement, riding trend waves, etc. This song is no different. If you ask me, Matchbox 20 sat down and said, "We should write a song like The Killers with some Arcade Fire," except for mainstream radio. (Not that the Killers will ever have to bear the albatross of being indie, but I don't think I have to do a dissertation on the stratification of mainstream) Anthemic, manic, driving, fist-pumping shouty choruses, etc. U2 has been mining the youth movements for a few albums now. Why can't the Matchboxes? Even the normally grating delivery of Mr. Thomas (our whipping boy, or Scott Stapp, if you will) is more than appropriate.

- The lyrics + the melody. Crap. I cannot condone this brand of Vaguely Anthemic 101 at Coldplay University lyrics. But I'll be darned if they don't con me into singing along everytime it gets to: "if you got someone you can SAY GOOD BYE TO..." Good writers marry the lyrics to the melody and this song does that really well, even if the words on paper read like a Clippers media guide.

- The bridge. I should hate everything about it, but somehow I kind of dig the way Mr. Thomas delivers the bridge in that weird, i don't know, is he brooding voice? It should bug me, right? And there I am, halfway hoping it doesn't end. And the guitars are good. And you know exactly where it's going. But you go there anyway. WILLINGLY.

- The horn part on If You're Gone. I know it's not even this song. But it's kind of money and I felt like, while I was confessing, I might as well lay it on the priest.

BYNUM: BEST LAKERS CENTER EVER?

For a media base that's just been foaming at the mouth to coronate Andrew Bynum, last night's 42 points will at long last give them what they need. Let's hope they can show some restraint.

Kareem who? You mean the guy who used to be called Chris Jackson and had Tourette's?

Wilt? The guy in Conan the Barbarian? Come on. Could that guy even score?

I hate to tell you, Laker faithful, but Bynum is still sitting on the Vlade Mezzanine.