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After a voting tie, the NBA settled on 76 players in its top 75 list, a fitting tribute to the league’s lame stain equivocations along the way.
The NBA weenied out on its Top 75 week, releasing it in dribs and drabs, playing safe with each new 25, not giving me a vote, and not giving me another vote after I change my mind on Westbrook.
The good parts were great, none of the old players suffered the ignominy of getting the boot. I was ready to free the competition from the tangles of Arizin and Wilkens and the Kangaroo Kid and taken aback at how hard it was to kick the older players off the list. Those dudes were sick.
Creating a new list which treats its old testament as gospel, however, is wack. Drooling this thing out over social media, al-pha-bet-i-cal-ly, utterly denuded the process. This should have been outrageous, boisterous, and fun. Instead it was pale as a press release.
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