Post-Jackson, Post-Wallace, Post-Felton

The trio that made our magical '09 run special have all but left us. What remains is a skeleton crew of young player with upside (Augustin, Thomas, Henderson), a who's-who of underachieving journeymen (Kwame, Maggette, Matt Caroll) and a couple of highly-touted rookies (Walker, Biyombo).

This new crew, along with the recent addition of Richard Cho, gives me hope for a future years down the road. Perhaps we will see our obvious tanking makeup reap long-term rewards.

I'm excited to watch Corey "Bad Porn" Maggette brick layup after layup. I'm pumped to watch Kemba Walker's stepback jumper get blocked every attempt because he's like 5'9. I'm wet with perspiration just thinking about Biyombo's ability to dunk a lot.

Dwyane Wade Getting Shot in the Eye

"Like a scene out of Shawshank Redemption, Dwyane Wade reaches out to express the deepest emotions within. Except here, there ain't no raining involved." - Me, KevinTheW, about 5 minutes ago.

Watching D-Wade pull his best flopping Bunny man moment from Donnie Darko really inspired me to post the gif on the left and pretend I'm interested at all in this post-Bobcats' universe.

As a Bobcats fan, who do you root for in a scenario such as this -- the large-market Dallas team, fronting a feisty owner, a large German man with protruding forehead, and NBA Jam: TE's own Jason Kidd or the WWE's own Miami Heat. The Heat, at least, are shown to have acting talents as expressed to the left of this page. But do their C-level talents muster enough flavor to bring out the savoriness I expect in a finals team?

I don't know.

I do know that Dallas' color scheme is far less matchy-match than the Heat's obnoxious orange-yellow/red palette. Then again, orange is the color of our favorite team flavor -- so I am conflicted.

Who do I turn to? Do I turn to the umame, the savory sweet that the Dallas brings with their rugged, aged core? Or do I go with the kitsch, the cheese -- the so-called Glitzentruppe -- of the Hollywood Heat?

As a Bobcat, this discussion becomes my solace knowing full well that our front office will likely draft future overpaid NBA journeyman and DeSagana Diop clone Bismack Biyombo.

More to Come

In the waining hours of Easter Sunday, I decided to resurrect this buried relic of the early '09 season. The inspiration, my muse, for the Bobcats ramblings has left us -- but he still remains in our hearts. And as a true fan of the Charlotte Bobcats, I choose to leave his name as a memorial of sorts and push onward into a new era post-Raymond -- a more avant garde world dominated by a strange assortment of failed Stephen Jackson early jumper isolations and Gerald Henderson putbacks.

This new Bobcats' generation, especially without fallen hero Gerald Wallace, is that man at the rundown dive with the jew-fro who watches you silently from his tilted bar stool. He's wearing unfashionably white Reeboks. He's got wire frames and a half-grown mustache. You're unsure of him, but he seems harmless enough. He might be a hipster.

But in those sour, darting eyes, a cruel shape is springing forth. A man who wants more than to finish his now warm beer. He wants that top-shelf special only the regulars know about.

We're at that point in our fandom where sticking by him could be a one-night stand mistake or helping him shave that mustache off could be the difference maker in a successful relationship.

I'm willing to look past the frames.