"Haha, I don't have an agent either!"

Never in a million years would I have ever thought I’d say, “Please, bring back Bow Wow.” But there I was last night, flipping through the channels during a timeout in the Miami Heat’s series-clinching victory over the Indiana Pacers, when I stumbled upon the film Like Mike 2: Streetball, as it aired on BET. I was 23 when the original Like Mike was in theaters, so it wasn’t exactly my type of film, and needless to say that a 2006 straight-to-DVD sequel wouldn’t be my cup of Sanka either.

But there it was, in all its glory – the rehashed, recycled and redonkulous sequel to the story of a kid who receives the magical ability to play basketball like Michael Jordan from a pair of dirty old sneakers hanging from a power line. This time, instead of Bow Wow’s Calvin Cambridge, the young hero is Jascha Washington’s Jerome, who is the son of a streetball legend and therefore wants to be the best as well. The only problem is he’s too young and small and clichéd.

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At the risk of turning something like this into a string of awful puns, I’ll let The Hoop Scene handle the intro:

Gerald Henderson shows us that basketball is more than just physical ability. Sometimes, you have to use your head too. He probably learned that at Duke.

And if you look closely at the dunk, LeBron traveled. I think that’s all of the jokes.

But no, I can’t decide whether to feel sorry for Henderson getting monster-jammed in the dome or feel sorry for the Heat for getting such a bullsh*t call. Charlotte should just start drafting the tallest dudes imaginable and have them rush up and put their heads in the net when somebody shoots. Looks like it’s time for Gheorghe Muresan to come staggering out of retirement.

Eh, don’t feel sorry for the Heat. They immediately follow up any dorky sadnesses with amazing plays like this:

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When it comes to sports “writers” I’m pretty bipolar over Jason Whitlock. On one hand, I think he’s absolutely hilarious in his unapologetic relentlessness of shoehorning himself into stories. His accusation that Derek Fisher is in cahoots with David Stern to convince the NBA players union to end the lockout by taking a deal that favors the owners is a riot, from the anonymous source to the way he peppered his rambling idea with comparisons to “The Wire.”

On the other hand, the same traits that make me laugh so much are also so incredibly abhorrent and pathetic for someone who claims to be a journalist. But that’s who Whitlock is and that’s what Fox Sports pays him to be, so we have to live with it while he “does the damn thing.” And the latest damn thing that he’s doing? Exposing Michael Jordan for being the greedy corporate pig that he is.

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Here are a few facts to make you feel extremely old, pending you not being one of those 14-year olds who has had the Internet their entire life and can’t remember what they did five minutes ago:

1. Michael Jordan played his last game in the NBA over eight years ago.
2. Michael Jordan won his last slam dunk contest over 23 years ago.
3. Michael Jordan will be 50 in two years.

I got excited a few months ago when I saw a video of Spud Webb dunking at age 47. I thought, “hey, that makes me feel better about the ominous march of time” and jumped on here to post it. Then I noticed he was dunking with a trampoline. My head sank and I aged about four years. Today I’m happy to say I got at least two of those years back, because the Yahoo! Sports Minute has put up a clip of 48-year old Michael Jordan dunking on a ten foot goal with relative ease. Apparently he’s still good enough to beat anyone he meets, including his staff. And before you ask, yes, LeBron James is on his staff.

Watch the video below.

That Michelle Marie sure knows a lot about sports, doesn’t she? I wonder what her last name is. I’m gonna guess “Jennifer”.

[via Ball Don't Lie]

It’s finally over, friends. Possibly one of the worst, if not the worst, NBA Drafts in recent memory. The Cleveland Cavaliers ended weeks of speculation that they would either make Duke’s Kyrie Irving the No. 1 pick in this year’s draft or they would keep pretending like they were going to take Derrick Williams by selecting Irving. Meanwhile, the Minnesota Timberwolves managed to screw up the incredibly simple task of trading the No. 2 pick of Williams, a player they don’t need, for assets they do need and future picks. And there were plenty of trades that made little sense, European players we’ve never heard of, jackass fans booing every single pick, and a second round full of guys we will never hear from again. Ah yes, the glorious NBA Draft.

Now I’m no expert by any means, and I’m often wrong when it comes to projections and theories. But I have become quite a big NBA fan over the past few seasons, so I’m learning. And I think that this draft was an exceptional learning tool for the fan like me, learning to love a sport that has never been kind in parity, while also being completely aware that the league is locking out in 6 days. So I had some thought while watching this draft and I thought that I might share them. What can I say? I’m a generous lover.

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If I were forced to select my favorite player between James Posey and Stephen Jackson, I suppose I would have to go with Posey. The guy clearly knows how to set a pick.

I suppose this means that Posey and Jackson aren’t buddies, because as the old saying goes, “You can pick your friends and you can pick your nose, but you can’t pick your friend’s nose,” and Posey is almost knuckle-deep in Jackson’s nostril.

What do you mean booger jokes aren’t funny? These bits were (nose) gold, Jerry, (nose) gold!

[H/T Skeets]