Wednesday, May 25, 2005

No offense, but I've never gotten the Neal Pollack thing. Today I understand a little. In a piece for Slate about the Phoenix Suns he writes:
The coach, Mike D'Antoni, doesn't get out-cooled by his team. Though American by birth, he's arguably the greatest player in the history of Italian basketball. He's married to a model and hangs out with the Benetton and Versace families. TNT recently showed vintage footage of a shirtless D'Antoni, wearing the same crisp 'stache he still has today, holding aloft a trophy while a crowd of Italian revelers dumped champagne on his head. The Italians call him Arsenio Lupin, after a movie about a cat burglar. That's not a reference that means anything to me. I call him Coach Pornstache.

That's alright.


The Principled Traditionalist said...

There is no justice. People like this guy have careers writing and I am schlepping computers for a living. Lord have mercy.

Anonymous said...

I'm with JVL. Not bad at all. Except that the dude has never heard of Arsène Lupin. Dude. Seriously. In the words of the Tick's enemy Handy, Read a book!.

--Bill Walsh