The original description for this video hits a little bit too close to home. I'm going to go lie down for a bit. Original description below: -- When Kawhi Leonard is leading the Spurs to multiple ‘chips in four years, how funny will it be that the Pacers gave him up to get George Hill? A.) Very Funny B.) Somewhat Funny C.) Not Funny D.) More Sad Than Anything At the moment, it’s not even that funny, given that Hill is a key component of the Pacers’ recent success. However, in six years, Hill will probably be a sixth man somewhere, and Leonard will be pouring champagne all over his naked body while he instructs his female slave to suck on his championship rings. At this point, the trade will be A.) Very Funny. -- All clips property of the NBA. No copyright infringement is intended. If you enjoyed this video, please consider donating to my Patreon. YouTube doesn't allow me to collect ad revenue from my videos. https://www.patreon.com/downtobuck
On most of my Archivium videos, I post a new description to go with the original one that was written at the time the video was ...
Laying my eyes on a young Meyers Leonard (before he got all ripped and hunky) is making me uncomfortable. And what's up with his black eye? Did he try to steal someone's girl and fail at it? Because, these days, he would steal the girl and then be giving YOU the black eye when you tried to stop him. Also, imagine a world where Meyers Leonard making a three-pointer is at all notable. That is the world that this video was made in. Original description below: -- Meyers Leonard is the only good bench player on the Trailblazers. But with Aldridge out, he gets to start, leaving the Blazers with exactly one bench player that you would want to play, that being Eric Maynor. Apparently they should start Leonard more often, as he picked up his first career dub-dub while also scoring a career-high 22 points, sinking his first career three-pointer, and throwing down a trio of redonkulous jams. Sure, it came in a 27-point loss, but lots of big men go their entire careers without putting up that kind of insane statline. Well, maybe “insane” is overstating it, but it was pretty good. Perhaps Leonard isn’t a bust after all! -- All clips property of the NBA. No copyright infringement is intended. If you enjoyed this video, please consider donating to my Patreon. YouTube doesn't allow me to collect ad revenue from my videos. https://www.patreon.com/downtobuck
In the below description, I enumerated all the players that had, as of 2013, made ten or more threes in a game. Mario Chalmers had just, somehow, entered himself on that prestigious list of players. However, since that writing, nineteen more players have managed the feat. Is that a stark reminder of the NBA's paradigm shift or what? The additions to the list: Deron Williams, Stephen Curry, Terrence Ross, Chandler Parsons, C.J. Miles, Joe Johnson, Trevor Ariza, Kyrie Irving, Klay Thompson, Wesley Matthews, Kemba Walker, Paul George, Damian Lillard, James Harden, Marcus Smart, Duncan Robinson, Zach LaVine, Buddy Hield, and Devonte' Graham. Damn. Original description below: -- 10 Threes. Holy Balls. That’s a lot, especially for a not great player like Mario Chalmers. Here’s a comprehensive list of people who have made that many: Kobe Bryant, Donyell Marshall, Dennis Scott, JR Smith, Ty Lawson, Ray Allen, Joe Dumars, George McCloud, Peja Stojakovic, and Brian Shaw. Aside from possibly Shaw, Chalmers is the scrubbiest. I doubt I’m the only one who kind of wishes he had just gunned selfishly for the record. Imagine the headlines: “Chalmers Sets NBA Record With 13 Three-Pointers!”. Doesn’t that just look like the most messed up thing ever? I blame Spo. -- All clips property of the NBA. No copyright infringement is intended. If you enjoyed this video, please consider donating to my Patreon. YouTube doesn't allow me to collect ad revenue from my videos. https://www.patreon.com/downtobuck
The campus of Oxford University was quiet. In the chilly early-morning air, the only disturbance was the nearly inaudible rustling of Stephen’s clothes as he attempted to find a way into the history building. Stephen squinted up at the rows of windows. One of them had to be left open, somewhere; given the temperature in the building yesterday, it was a safe assumption that the place had never been retrofitted with air conditioning. The clouds obscuring the moon made it difficult to see very much, but Stephen was thankful for them; he was able to carry a ladder underneath his arm with little fear of being seen by a sleepless student glancing out a window. After walking around the entire building and scrutinizing it carefully, Stephen saw the outline of a swung-open windowpane on the building’s southern wall. Wasting no time, he propped his ladder against the wall and climbed up. Soon, he was standing in an office on the third floor. Still taking pains to be quiet, not knowing whether housekeeping would be working this late, he went down to the ground floor where Professor Martin Doyle’s office was located. Stephen was glad to find the door unlocked; he would not have to waste time picking the centuries-old mechanism. He entered the dark office directly, taking out a small, dim flashlight to search for what he sought. Doyle’s aversion to any discussion about the three-point amulet had betrayed his knowledge of it; Stephen was hopeful that there would be some notes or correspondence on the matter. In contrast to the office itself, Doyle’s cabinets were all locked, but a solid whack with the butt-end of the flashlight rectified that inconvenience. Stephen searched with as much haste as he could afford, not knowing when activity in the building would resume In one of the cabinets, tucked behind endless academic journals and hard-copy departmental memos, he found a yellowed, crumbling manuscript. Carefully extracting it from its hiding place, Stephen read the title: “Concerning the Creation and Ensorcellment of Magickal Objects, the Techniques thereof, and how Practitioners thereof Must be Qualified.” There was no publisher or publication date listed, but Stephen did not doubt that he was holding an authentic copy of a 15th-century occult text. Inserted between the cover page and the first page of text was a handwritten note, presumably left by Doyle himself: “I have given Dr. Bird the information he requested from the ‘Magickal Objects…’ text. I am, however, beginning to question his credentials, given the uneducated manner in which he writes his letters; I would not like to damage a relationship with a fellow scholar of the Medieval cabalistic arts, so I keep my concerns to myself. I can only hope that his interest in enchantments is purely academic, as he claims…” The picture was becoming clearer. Larry had indeed spoken to Doyle all those decades ago, and he had used the gained knowledge to create an enchanted three-point shooting amulet just before the NBA would institute the three-point line. Doyle had somehow become aware not only of the amulet, but also its insidious effect on any who dared wear it, and he was determined to never again let such an object be created. But now, the arcane manuscript had been discovered, and its heretical secrets would soon be divulged. Stephen picked it up again and opened to a random page, awed by the intricate diagrams and captivated by the obscure writings… “What are you doing in my office?” came a cold voice from behind Stephen’s seated position at the desk. Stephen’s heart sank as he realized that he had become so lost in the manuscript that it was now fully morning, sunlight streaming through the window. Wordlessly, Stephen tucked the manuscript under his arm and charged at the door. Rather than get run over by the younger, more athletic man, Doyle stepped out the way and grabbed feebly at Stephen’s retreating form. “Stop! Stop!” the scholar yelled, but Stephen knew that he could not stop. Campus security would be called at any moment. He would be detained and his precious document would be taken away from him. No, the only choice was to keep running. “I know who you are!” Doyle accusingly shouted from far down the hallway. “You’re Stephen Curry!” Stephen was so stunned that, for a moment, he had to resist the impulse to stop running. How did the man know his identity? There was no time to think. He burst through the front doors of the building and ran towards the Oxford city center. Finally, he reached a dingy alley where he could catch his breath. The police would have been called by now, surely. He had precious little time to get out of the country. But the inconvenience of being hunted by law enforcement paled in comparison to the new power that Stephen felt surging through his body, power borne in the knowledge that the secrets of the three-point shooting amulet would soon be unveiled before him.