Scoop Jackson Thinks He's a Beat Poet

Don't get me wrong; it's great when a writer bucks the conventions of his genre to create a unique style. But sometimes Scoop Jackson doesn't seem to know when to rein himself in.

The mission. The vision. The character. The focus. The execution. The depth. The deaths. The grief. The belief. The nonbelievers. The critics. The haters. The ankle sprains. The broken nose. The broken wrist. The broken … hearts. The Witness. The witnesses. The fouls. The missed calls. The composure. The loss of it. The pressure. The pleasure. The passion. The stops. The unstoppables. The punches. The grabs. The clotheslines. The ejections. The suspensions. The letdowns. The down 3-1's. The comebacks. The never coming back. The Van Exel. The Big Shot Rob. The Mike D's. The No. 19's. The marquee. The marquees. The Matrix. The MVP. The German. The Owner. The Afro. The Prince. The Guaran-Sheeds. The Coach. The Diesel.

The Pistons. The Heat. The Suns. The Mavericks.

The best four teams in the League, I believe. Alive. Still. Standing.

The future? Now.

Doesn't he have an editor? Anyway, you can see the full article (which seeems to be about a week old now) here.