Sunday, July 12, 2009
I Hate "That Guy!!!"
Last week, I waxed poetic about the numerous ways the Shawn Marion trade will improve my beloved Dallas Mavericks and as those of you who read the article know, there are many reasons to be excited. I did, however, leave one out. Perhaps my favorite. And as you, dear reader, can probably guess, it involves my amateurish photo-shopping of Devean George's self-involved smirk.
See, as part of this deal, I now sleep content with the knowledge that Devean George will never again infest the locker room of my favorite sports franchise. Let me assure you, this is no small victory; if I had to assign a dollar amount that I would have paid out of my own pocket to banish Devean George to the Island of Irksome Role Players, the ballpark figure would have been around $7500.
So believe me when I say that the emotional payoff of the Mavs shipping him out while simultaneously acquiring one of my favorite players (Marion) is like Moses leading the Hebrews into a beer garden after their 40 year jaunt through the desert.
In case this hasn't clanked you over the head like an errant Devean George jump shot, allow me to make myself Crystal Taylor clear: I hate Devean George. A lot. Ultimately, its a pretty benign hatred, mostly because it would be pretty impractical to really do something about it; I don't intend to embarass him publicly, slash his tires, or even TP his house. But it's as real as your worst college hook-up and just like those "cold sores" you got a week later, it ain't going anywhere for a while.
Why do I hate Devean George, you ask? Because he's "that guy." We all have one, a bit player on your favorite team who is mostly inconsequential to it's success yet ekes out just enough playing time to drive you, and everyone around you, insane.
If he's a football player, he doesn't hit the hole hard, or he arm tackles, or he gets penalized way too often.
"That guy" in baseball takes called 3rd strikes, nibbles around the strike zone, or constantly grounds into double plays.
If it's a basketball player, well, he's Devean George.
In my defense, it didn't have to be this way. I really had high hopes for Devean George and his career 5.6 ppg scoring average. It's not my fault that whenever he touched the ball, he had Kobe Bryant's shot selection with Bryant Reeves' game. Or that I trust his corner 3 less than Shawn Kemp at a buffet line. I certainly can't be blamed for him unleashing his trademark defense, which involved pushing, pulling, grabbing, shoving, and sometimes punching opposing players in ways that I didn't think were legal in at least a dozen states, let alone the basketball court.
Yet he somehow was even more insufferable off the court. In February 2008, he sabotaged a package deal that would have sent him to New Jersey in exchange for Jason Kidd because he didn't want to hurt his market value in a contract year, apparently the last person to realize that his game would do that for him. Five months later, there was Devean George, all to happy to slink back into a Mavs uniform for half his previous year's salary.
Don't even get me started on his theatrics whenever the Mavericks journeyed to the Staples Center, site of his glory years as the 8th man on the Lakers' title teams. Between the incessant flirting with Penny Marshall and his sanctimonious preening for the six remaining fans that gave actually gave damn about him, Devean George's biannual homecoming was equal parts obnoxious and pathetic, an irrelevant piece of self-promotion rivaled only by Guns N'Roses' "Chinese Democracy."
I could go on, but why bother? Much like me 10 minutes into Devean George's Dallas career, you've probably seen enough.
Right now, I suspect some of you are disgusted. You're probably wondering why I get so worked up about a bit player who played 15 minutes per night. 15 agonizing minutes, I say, but point taken. I've never met Devean George, and for all I know, he could be a really nice guy. He doesn't have a rap sheet, never runs his mouth to the media, and that the Dallas front office welcomed him back with open arms after he submarined their intial attempts to get Kidd definitely speaks to something. Personally I'm of the opinion that "something" entails blackmail, but hey, I wasn't in the room when he signed the contract papers.
Yes, some of you are probably shaking your heads. But you know what? I know that a lot more of you are nodding in agreement.
Because let's be honest, this is about more than my loathing of one Devean Jamar George. No, this about every fan, of every team, and "that guy" who the front office deposited on their roster like a flaming bag of poo, rang the doorbell, and expected you, the loyal fan, to deal with the consequences. East Coast; West Coast; Midwest; Southwest, we've all been there. Regardless of where your loyalties lie, you feel my pain on this one, and I, yours.
So I want to know: who's your Devean George? Think of this column as sports therapy, and the comments section as your safe space. It's OK, I don't like to judge.
Except Devean George. I hate that guy.
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