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Los Angeles, CA - I apologize, as always, for the tardiness of my All-Star musings but I've had to carefully contemplate the extravaganza that was in LA. I thought last year's weekend was the "Caligula" of pop culture but I was sadly, sadly mistaken. Atlanta was a mere prelude for the goings-on in the entertainment and everything else bigger than life capital of the world, Los Angeles. I really thought last year's surprise 40th birthday visit to Atlanta was crazy but you don't know crazy until you've seen and experienced the celebrity, quasi-celebrity, b-list celebrity and reality show celebrity that was the weekend in SoCal. Getting into the Staples Center (and no, I didn't rate the walk-up the red carpet that was outside Staples) was almost a quiet, Buddhist-like sanctuary compared to madness that was taking place all over Los Angeles. Where to start? Well, let's begin at the beginning. The following is the official "Doug E. Los Angeles Map of the Stars" version of the All-Star Weekend. Sunday, Feb. 15, 2004 - All-Star Game As the day progresses... celebs, celebs and more celebs! Okay, here's who I've seen so far this morning; Mr. Big (Chris Noth), Elliott Gould. Robert Patrick, Penny Marshall, Jack, Ice Cube, Denzel Washington, Rob Lowe, Chris Tucker, Dr. Phil, Paris Hilton, American Karaokeists Ruben and Kelly, Craig Kilborn and last but not least, that radiant beauty Star Jones. Oh, man, the game isn't even close to starting yet. The nicest LA touch to today's festivities, the red carpet outside the Staples Center, of course. The league continued that little premiere touch by extending the red carpet on to the court for the pregame introductions. The boys from Outkast got it started (and their songs are going to be ringing in my head for a very long time). It's been all Outkast, all weekend. I do have to say that Puffy's butler, Fonzworth Bentley, did look resplendent while dancing up a storm with that umbrella. I can not believe how much love the Raptor's Vince Carter is receiving from the blasé LA fans. Don't these people know that Air Canada is a petulant hypochondriac looking to make a hasty escape from TO? A quick look around reveals an all-star player first - Ron Artest is wearing two different types of shoes. He's pimpin' multiple brands of sneaks in an attempt to land a new shoe contract. Wow, a top level player without a shoe deal. What is this, 1960? I think this injustice is balanced off by Christina Augilera, who appears to have a personal shoe deal. A little FYI - Christina is not only skanky (in a wholesome kid of way) but the tiniest little thing. She can't go more than 4' 10" and about 90 pounds. The first half rolls by and I can't really think of anything interesting that happened on the court. Halftime is another matter. Beyonce belts it out and she really is bootylicious! I know, I've used that line before but Ms. Knowles appears to have lost a couple of pounds which accentuates her trunk even more. Jay Z, you're a very lucky man. Unbelievable, the play of the game. No, not Shaq almost wiping out a whole row along the baseline (the fans were saved by the only man bigger in the whole Staples Center, Mr. Ruben Studdard). This little gem was so unbelievable that I wouldn't have bought it if I was watching on television. With 8:22 left in the fourth quarter, a "confirmed bachelor" looking guy in the first row just proposed to big, fat Star Jones. I don't think anyone has ever accepted a proposal faster in recorded history. I'm guessing every brother in the America is thanking God right now that Star is off the market. I don't envy the other gals on "The View," as they're going to be hearing about "my fiancé" and "my wedding" for the next number of months. A nice touch by P. Diddy, as he races over to congratulate the lovely couple. It's amazing who's tight these days. After all this excitement I barely noticed the game had ended. Michael Redd can't bury a three and that's that, 136 - 132. They gave Shaq the MVP, just so he could bust out his "Warriors" lines. That's right, "can you DIG it." The locker room areas and tunnels under the Staples Center are an absolute zoo with media. family, league officials and the most entourage members ever seen in professional sports. I haven't been down to LA in a while and just made the biggest traffic miscue. Please, for the love of God, never try to drive the length of Sunset Blvd. during a weekend or special event in Los Angeles. It has just taken me two hours to drive ten blocks on the famed road. This isn't good because I'm trying to get to a special Shaq party at a night club on Sunset. Hopefully, after changing my driving tactics, I'll make it over there and meet up with my old UBC teammate, that's right, Mr. Wonderful, Paul Johansson. Having a bit of cell phone trouble, so, who knows if we'll hook-up or not but I'm sure it will be one monster party. The loudest sound just rattled my rental car windshield. It keeps getting closer. I might be experiencing my first LA earthquake. Nope, it's Shaq rolling up in his tricked out Lincoln Navigator. Is there such a thing as too much bass? Well, the Diesel doesn't seem to think so! I can't even get near the front door to argue with a headgear wearing security guard. Oh well, back to the rental and off to Cantor's Deli. Always have to drop by and enjoy a bowl of chicken noodle and a quick pastrami sandwich. Now, that's my version of LA nightlife. Saturday, Feb. 14, 2004
- Jam Session Time to wander around and soak in the interactive wonderland that is the Jam Session. The league has figured out the best way to sell stuff - disguise it as a family fun zone. Wait in line to shoot a three, then go drop $350 on a Mitchell & Ness throwback jersey. I must say, the Memphis Sounds ABA jersey was pretty tight. Check out the NBA old school photo gallery, drop some more cake on a pair of special all-star edition T-Mac III's. God bless the insatiable appetite of the American consumer. Since I have no money, I wander back to the center court to catch the celebrity 3 point shooting contest. Remember Jonathan Lipnicki, the cute little kid from Jerry Mcguire. Well, he's grown up a little and is now probably getting ready for a heavy dose of adolescence. There might not be anything sadder than a cute little child actor growing up. It appears that we should start checking the police blotter a little more regularly from now on (or perhaps the "Surreal Life"). Anyway, back to the contest. Nelly takes off all his bling, which would appear to be the equivalent of the GNP of many third world nations, and rides a goofy looking shot to the title. He does have a nice release, which is all that really matters when it comes down to it. Jenny Craig alert - I may have just seen the two biggest human beings in the whole USA. I know, that's saying a mouthful (ha, ha) in this land of 'super size' and unprecedented caloric consumption but these guys are huge. Apparently Big Boy and Fuzzy are two DJ's with the top local hip-hop radio outfit, 106. These guys are droppin' at least 8 XXL here with their throw back jerseys. The little bit of ebonics that I'm picking up indicate that the boys are ragging on Nelly about some X-rated DVD he was involved in that can be viewed very late at night on BET. I need the Grizzlies back in town just so I can understand this stuff? Saturday, Feb. 14, 2004 - All-Star Saturday Grant Hill makes an appearance at an NBA game. Not quite, it's Mrs. Grant Hill, Tamia, to sing the Canadian national anthem for tonight's action. Aaah, a nice girl from Windsor to make us all proud. After "Oh Canada" is all done, the parade of celebrities begins to make their way to their seats - Jack, Penny Marshall, Dr. Phil, the Fresh Prince & Jada, etc., etc. LA really is an industry town, just like Powell River or Elkford. Well, maybe not. The first event of the night concludes with the LA team taking the "Shootout." There may be nothing quite so sad as Magic Johnson participating in these type of events. Hey Earvin, put the Lakers jersey away and just be happy making your millions and, oh 'ya, being alive. You don't see the other greatest players ever to play making a masters league-like appearance at these things. In the words of modern day sage, Mitchell Freedman, god bless (but take your big fat ass and go sit in the courtside seats with all the other captains of industry). Next up, the skills contest. The assembled point guards appear to be a little worse for wear from last night's party circuit. Okay, maybe not Earl Boykins but that's just because he gets carded everywhere around town. Hometown hero, Baron Davis, takes the title while looking very hung over. Baron's becoming quite the movie mogul down here with his production company, so, thanks go out to Cristal for his Ali-like victory. The best entertainment of the evening and maybe the weekend, the Chicago Bucket Boys, pound out the beats on their plastic instruments. Guys this talented might actually change the rep of drummers everywhere. Wow, Beyonce really is bootylicious! In the words of Nate Zalkow, "Andy, Beyonce is a very attractive girl." Since it is Valentine's Day, we've got a slow jam for all the ladies. Please welcome the "American Idol," Mr. Ruben Studdard. The big man let's loose with a lovely slow number "Matador." I'm getting a little emotional here... On to the 3 point shooting contest. Peja is the defending champion and is looking for his third consecutive title but I'm getting the feeling that that isn't going to happen tonight. Why? Well, Kyle Korver has his twin brother in the house and all that support is going to take him over the top. Man, does flavour-of-the-month Ashton Kutcher ever look like the Sixers rookie. Back to the contest as the quietest man in the NBA, Voshon Leonard, takes the title when Peja can not sink the money ball to push the contest into OT. Is it just me or have all the festivities so far really sucked? I take it all back. The "Shootout,""Skills" and the "3 Point" contests where the high of hoops competition compared to the dunk contest. Is David Stern that impotent in the power department that he can't get any name guys to come out and play in the throw down Olympics? Hello, CBA signee, Chris Anderson. Hello, rookie bench warmer, Fred Jones. Okay, two time champ Jason Richardson is back but couldn't they have at least brought back Desmond Mason to go head to head? This bites. Worse of all, I've spotted Chocolate Thunder in the house. This is truly a desecration of all the dunks that Daryl Dawkins threw down in his NBA career. Fred Jones wins. This contest sucks. Changes must be made. Enough said.
Friday, Feb. 13, 2004 After encountering my first traffic jam of the weekend on the San Diego Freeway (I-405), I eventually inch my way to the Staples Center. As always, the key to getting off on the right foot at any NBA event, the media feed. Only one problem, I can't find the free food. Wandering the Staples Center like a Bedouin in the desert, I am unable to find my oasis of chow. Aaah, good luck smiles on me for the first time during the weekend as a lovely NBA employee feels my hunger and invites me into the NBA Legends/TNT soiree. That's right, I'm now downing kabobs, jumbo shrimp and other delicacies with Chuck Barkley, Kenny Smith and an assortment of players that I grew up with in the seventies and eighties. Life is good. While I'm noshing, the Rookie/Sophomore game is taking place down below. I struggle to keep my amazing buffet down as this may be the worst example of what the All-Star weekend has become. How many alley-oops (God Bless Chick Hearn) can each team throw? How many ankle breaking crossover dribbles can each team perform? How ugly can a game featuring both Carmello Anthony and LeBron James be? Ugly, real ugly. I turn my eyes quickly from the game so that my vision isn't affected for the whole weekend and head back for dessert. Nice, chocolate cheesecake! In my confusion, I've missed the 'celebrity' game. It looks like P. Diddy's squad (Assistant Skank, errr, Coach, Paris Hilton) has taken the title. Without either fellow T-Bird, Paul Johansson, or the KCC's own Tom Cavanagh, playing my interest just isn't there. I need celebrities I've played with to keep it somewhat real. Plus, I was blinded by Diddy's manhole cover sized ear bling. Man, those puppies make Gary Payton's studs, previously the largest I've ever seen in person, look tiny. To quote Don King "only in America!" Unfortunately, I have not received an invitation to Shaq's party this evening at the Playboy Mansion. Come on Diesel, hook your Vancouver home boy up. I want, I need, to check it out just to see where so many Vancouver girls have taken their unspoiled charms and beauty to make their names in the world of Hef. Geez, Mrs. Hef (or the former Mrs. Hef) went to West Van High, for goodness sakes. I'm positive that she must have had some kind of fun with the immortal Urban Coalition member, Erik Lockhart? Oh well, off to bed a little early tonight. Doug E. For more Doug E. "Sportstalk" columns (or what passes for a columns), click here!
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