Who Wants to be a Millionaire?

Tick tick tick.

Now on the clock -- the NBA players.

Well it’s not quite a clock.

It’s more like a ticking time bomb.

The owners have given the players until Wednesday to accept the latest offer they scribbled on the bargaining table.

And if not.

The NBA will blow up.

Now these players are used to making pressure decisions in 24 seconds.

Or less.

But if they miss this shot, the Association will fadeaway faster than a Kobe Bryant jumper.

Midnight will strike.

And the NBA will explode.

Implode.

Whatever.

At this point, the damage that both sides have done to this once great league is immeasurable.

Immeasurable for now.

When they finally do agree, it is going to be a long road to recovery.

How long?

We’ll find out Wednesday.

The bottom line is that none of us can relate to what these guys are bitching about.

NONE of us.

The debate seems to center around something called BRI.

Basketball Related Income.

What’s that you say?

Let me catch you up.

The players used to get 57% of the BRI.  

The owners said, WHOA... that’s too much.

So they offered 47%.  

The players said, WHOA... that’s too little.

Enter Newton's Cradle.

53.. no 48... 52... no 49... 

Now it’s 49 with a chance to go to 51. 

You lost me at hello.

For the last few weeks, they’ve been bickering over 1%.

ONE PERCENT!

Now in this case, 1% is still a ton of cash.

But enough already.

I couldn’t figure out a sudoku puzzle if you gave me a month.

But give me 10 minutes with these idiots and we’ll have a deal done.

15 minutes if we order chinese food.

Honestly, I don’t get it.

The bottom line is the NBA brings in a lot of money.

And as long as these games keep getting cancelled.

Nobody gets nothin’.

Times are tough these days.

Everywhere.

The OUT OF BUSINESS sign.

Has replaced the OPEN sign.

On way too many storefronts.

And there’s no reason to believe that’s going to change anytime soon.

Businesses are cutting back like Barry Sanders.

And those are the ones trying to stay open.

But the NBA has nothing in common with Joe’s Shoe Repair.

Or Borders bookstore.

Or Blockbuster Video.

Yet.

They are still sitting on a goldmine.

Still.

Last year, the league brought in a record 4.3 billion dollars in net revenue.

That’s billion with a B.

63 players earned 10 million dollars or more last year.

140 players earned 5 million or more last year.

336 players earned a million or more last year.

That’s enough for nearly 34 different 5x5 pickup games.

Between millionaires.

Armani Shirts vs Lamb Skins.

According to the NBA, five million dollars was the average salary in the league last year.

The average.

Per year.

Guaranteed.

That’s one Dr. Evil for every finger.

On your right hand.

And five dozen guys made enough to take care of the left too.

Of course some of the bottom feeders aren’t making nearly that much.

In fact, the minimum salary is not even 10% of the average.

Last year the minimum salary in the NBA was a measly $473,604.

That’s right.

Can you imagine -- the benchiest of bench warmers made “just” $473k last year.

How do you feel about this lockout now?

The owners say that 22 of the 30 teams have been losing money.

Duh!

Throwing around cash like that, it’s no surprise.

That’s why they said that something had to change.

No surprise there either.

Personally, I have chosen to believe that the NBA owners are telling the truth about their bad financial situation.

Even if they are the ones to blame.

Exhibit A, B, C, D & E.

July 8, 2010 -- just one year ago.

The Atlanta Hawks resigned free agent Joe Johnson to a six-year deal.

A six-year deal worth $119 million dollars.

Guaranteed!

And if the Hawks didn’t sign him, a dozen other teams probably would have.

Johnson is no ordinary Joe when it comes to playing the game of basketball.

But when it comes to playing in the NBA, he is nothing special.

In the six years he has played in Atlanta.

He has never made it to the NBA finals.

In fact, he’s never led the Hawks to the conference finals.

But he does have a 500-square foot shoe closet.

Really.

Hey you gotta spend that money on something.

The bottom line here is a whole bunch of rich people have a chance to stay rich if they just check their egos at the door.

And get a deal done.

Saturday night we turned our clocks back.

But that extra hour of negotiating really didn’t help.

At the end of the latest bargaining session -- BS for short.

1:45am ET.

NBA Commissioner David Stern said to the players, this is our offer.

You have until Wednesday to take it.

But if you leave it.

The next offer will by yuckier.

Guaranteed.

Imagine that -- the NBA Commissioner used the word “yuckier”.

Now if you don’t care about the NBA.

You probably don’t care if they ever kiss and make up.

And you definitely don’t care about this blog.

But I do.

I love the NBA.

Well, I love the game of basketball.

It is this BS game of millionaires whining over who gets the bigger car that I could do without.

Make the right call.

And sign on the dotted line.

Both of you.

Tick tick tick.

Walk on the Wild Side

There are about a buzillion things I love about living in New York.

The energy of the city.

The weather in October.

The food on every street corner.

This week I’ve had a chance to show off all of those things to my wife and kids who are in town for a visit.

There is however one thing that in the immortal words of The Fine Young Cannibals, is driving me crazy:

Sidewalk traffic.

We don’t come from a place where people actually walk much, at least not on the street, so this has been quite the experience.

I am totally cool with the fact that 1.6 million people live in the 23 square miles of Manhattan.

And I am totally cool with the fact that those 1.6 million people own at least 2.4 million cell phones.

But do they really need to use them while they are walking?

Shouldn't they pull over to the side of the sidewalk to text?

Oprah, can you write up another petition please?

And as for those people who prefer to walk at a pace like they are doing an audition for Chariots of Fire, The Prequel....

Speed up or get off my sidewalk!

I understand that my quick pace of walking is not shared by all, but these slow walkers make me loco.

And I really love the people who walk right in front of you....

.....And stop.

Stop cold!

And I really love the people who stand in the middle of the sidewalk to take a picture of... a building.

Google Images people!

I always loved watching Barry Sanders play football.

He'd run right at a traffic jam.

Evaluate the smallest hole he could fit through.

Stop on a dime.

Spin his body around.

And run for a score.

Of course, if I tried any of those moves on 6th Avenue, I'd instantly tear my ACL.

But if you want to be successful walking on the streets of New York, you’d better apply the same concepts.

One of the true rewards of walking in New York is the sport of jaywalking.

Red light, schmed light.

If you don’t see a car coming, start moving.

If you do see a car coming, move faster.

I’ve noticed that the taxi drivers like to speed up when they notice a pedestrian walking across the street when they are not supposed to.

And everybody does it.

I mean, EVERYBODY.

If New York really wanted to fix the budget crisis, they’d start handing out jaywalking tickets.

They’d have like 19 trillion dollars by Tuesday.

My wife is a very cautious person.

But not in New York.

Sure, she’s still careful, especially when she is with the kids.

But this week I have definitely noticed her becoming quite the daredevil.

At least by her terms.

That little sign that tells you when it is ok to walk is about as useful as a calorie counter at a Baskin Robbins. 

Everybody sees it, but nobody pays attention to it.

New York is the first city I’ve ever lived in where you don’t really need a car.

In fact, when you factor in the traffic and the outrageous parking prices, not only don’t you need a car, you don’t want one.

That was definitely not the case when I lived in LA.

Take your car away and they might as well take your feet away too.

The public transportation in Los Angeles barely exists.

Living in LA without a car is the fastest way to a nervous breakdown.

The second fastest is having a car in LA.

There were days, plenty of them, when my 25-mile commute would take close to 90 minutes.

And that was 90 PAINFUL minutes.

Stop and go, the entire way.

With a whole lot more of the stopping then the going.

But with the help of the traffic helicopters in LA, I was usually able to adjust and try a different route.

Maybe that's what New York needs...

...sidewalk traffic reporters.

I can hear it now.

"For those of you headed uptown this morning, you may want to consider the right side of Madison Avenue.  There is a mother with twins on 5th Avenue and the double-wide stroller is not letting anyone pass."

Or perhaps.  

"If you are headed Eastbound on 27th street and in need of some caffeine this morning, head two blocks south.  The Starbucks on 25th Street has a shorter line than the Starbucks on 26th or the seven Starbucks on 27th."

I think I’m onto something.