And even if Dwight Howard's Superman cock wasn't the one being flopped out of a pair of long red workout shorts, it's probably for the best. Because even though the flaccid penis in the photo is about the size of a geoduck, it's still not large enough for some of the extremely picky and colorful Media Takeout readership. Let's go to their comments!:

• "Nautsygirl" says: "NICE....I WOULD HAVE GUSSED IT WOULD'VE BEEN BIGGER"

• "Supermodel candy"says: "smh his big toe is bigger than that [EXPLETIVE].. smh.. where his d*ck at?"

• "STS" says: too small for his body size!! my lips are even bigger than that!

• hollihoodstr says: "DAMMMMNNNNN.....THE ONLY THING THT TURNED ME OFF WAS THE FACT THT HIS PUBIC HAIRS OR PEZZZZYYY AS HELL.....MTO.....SMFH!!!!"

Pezzy?

The Cavaliers had been sitting for eight days after sweeping the first two rounds, but that didn't seem to matter when they rolled out to a 15-point lead in the first half. Then the second half happened, and somehow when the final buzzer sounded LeBron and company were not ahead on the scoreboard. What the....?

Well, for starters, Rashard Lewis made his three pointers and then Dwight Howard started breaking things, while everyone else on the home team not named James did not. LeBron had 49, which sounds really good, but down one with 10 seconds to go, he gave up the ball and didn't get it back. Then he limped off the court, defeated, and that's why he's not Michael Jordan yet. Cleveland only lost two games at home all year, but now the home court advantage belongs the Magic and everyone should panic right now! They might actually have to do some work to win this thing.

Cavaliers finally face test and come up short [NBA]
Dwight Howard Dunks and Pulls Down the Shot Clock [The Hoop Doctors]

Sixers marketing geniuses went with the unoriginal Kryptonite T-shirt giveaway idea for the hometown crowd for the Friday and Sunday games at the Wach, but they obviously forgot the potential litigiousness of DC Comics before giving the go-ahead to the campaign. The Knicks had the same trouble after Nate Robinson snatched the dunk contest away from Dwight Howard this past February prompting those ugly Krypto-Nate jerseys. The Sixers ignored the obvious intellectual property hurdles, but finally smartened up. They say it was "design issues" but we know better:

Courtesy of Philly Edge

The issue was one of design and the logo. We thought we had the proper approval process, but it didn't come to fruition, so we had to pull the promotion," Eric Nemeth, Director of Public Relations for Comcast-Spectacor at the Wachovia Complex, said. "Instead, we'll have a White-Out Weekend. We'll be giving all fans white t-shirts on Friday and rally towels (before Sunday's Game 4)."

Better get clearance from the Wite-Out people before you do something like that. They want to get paid, too.

******

Thank you for your continued support of Deadspin. It's getting heavy. Oh and New Yorkers — be sure to tune in tonight to watch Len Berman's final sportscast.

The campaign is entitled March is a Brotherhood ... and I hope that the four colleges chosen do not represent the teams these four players think will win the tournament. Because that would make T-Mac a cockeyed optimist, and Garnett delusional.

Unfortunately, an earlier version of this commercial featuring Tatum Bell was deemed inappropriate.

The other two commercails can be found here.

Adidas Launches March Is A Brotherhood Spots [First Cuts]

It's usually because they're just so absurd or really lack even the most tenuous of news angles to give them the go-ahead. Other times it's because they're just absolute horseshit. But every Friday until we get sick of running them, we'll present to you some of these not-so-shiny gems. All items should be treated as [Sic'd]. Enjoy...

Hmm. I Wonder If "Jimmy Henchmen" Rigged The NBA All-Star Vote

Exclusive pictures of Dwight Howard dating Jimmy Henchmen's Daughter (Dee Dee Rosemond) for over a year. Heres the pictures from his bday party she threw for him in La without inviting his baby mama

Thank You, Loody. We'll Make A Note Of It.

MY NAME IS LOODY, I LIVE IN ORLANDO FL
I HAVE BEEN USING MY ESPN MOBILE SINCE THE FIRST COME OUT, AFTER SPRINT TAKE OVER, I HAVE CHANGE COMPANY....NOW IM USING THE SAME PHONE AT METRO PCS.........SPRINT IT'S SUCKS...

ESPN MOBILE PHONE ARE ROCKS.

Alex Rodriguez Jerks Off What And Twists His Nipples How During SportsCenter, Now?

Now I know this may end up on your bull shit stories post, but this is hilarious regardless...

I live in DC, and my brother's roommate's girlfriend's friend was in town. They are all from Jersey/NYC. Supposedly, this chick in town from NYC knows some chick who hooked up with the one and only Alex Rodriguez. He takes her back to her place, starting banging and what not on his couch. Then SportsCenter comes on TV, and he is the lead story. He stops banging her and insists on her pinching his nipples while he jerks off to himself on TV.

I don't know who would make this shit up, they are creative if it's false. Perhaps someone can contact Madonna's publicist to see if any of this may possibly be true. The chick who told this story wasn't the most attractive of ladies, so she had nothing to gain in telling this story.

Your Wish Is My Command

AJD,

Sorry about the buzzsaw on your ass. At least you have the Phils. Fuck it.

Anyway. Love the Deadspin deleted scenes. Somehow they always make me laugh the hardest because of the randomness. So here's my "tip".

The picture was taken at Redsfest, and its a picture of the Reds Phenom outfielder Jay Bruce with two fans having the time of their life. Bruce looks thrilled.

Pete Gaines: Clean Up In Aisle TwoEightNine

Hello,

I visited your website for the first time today. In the "So That's What Happened to Brenda Warner" story, there's a comment from someone named twoeightnine that says:

"What kind of Christian gets a nose job to make their nose look more Jew like?"

And then there are some more offensive comments replying to that. How do comments like these make it through the filter?

When I look at the comment instructions, I see:

"We're looking for comments that are interesting, substantial or highly amusing. If your comments are excessively self-promotional, obnoxious, or even worse, boring, you will be banned from commenting."

Is this an interesting, substantial or highly amusing comment by TwoEightNine? Is it not obnoxious?

Please help me understand your comment policy better in light of this.

Per the USA Basketball Official Site:

Fans will be able to bid on each jersey worn by the USA Basketball Women’s Senior National Team in their victories over China on Aug. 11, and Spain on Aug. 15. Two sets of jerseys from the USA Basketball Men’s Senior National Team also will be up for auction. The jerseys are from the team’s games in the USA Basketball International Challenge against Russia on Aug. 3 and Australia on Aug. 5.

Wait a minute, the Olympics didn't start until August 8. So they're actually auctioning off game-worn jerseys from before the actual Olympics started. That's kind of diabolical of the USA Olympic Committee. The bastards. Also, since the NBA is auctioning the jerseys, where do the proceeds go? Shouldn't it be to a charity of some sort? The article doesn't say.

US Basketball giving fans a chance to own a piece of history [USA Basketball Official Site]
Auction Site [NBA]

Brent Petway can jam. And I don't mean, every now and again, he gets some air and puts one home. In an era where we laud the all-around athlete, where we marvel at CP3's complete game and Josh Smith's ability to fill a stat sheet, it's rare to find a player that exhibits extraordinary skill in dunking at the professional level. Brent Petway is the modern day extrapolation of pure talent in a singular move. Brent plays for the Idaho Stampede, the D-League team that's affiliated with Seattle and Portland. His stats are nothing extraordinary. He's 8th in the D-League in blocks. His most notable attribute, however, is his penchant for jaw-dropping dunks, which has earned him the nickname "Air Georgia." So when the D-League decided to put together a dunk contest, they knew they needed to get Petway.

Nobody wanted to win this dunk contest more than Petway. After losing in the 2007 NCAA Dunk Contest, he said that he badly wanted to take home this one.

His first two dunks were take-offs of old classics. The "A-La-Carter":

And the "Dominique Special," a classic windmill with a self alley-oop.His closers in the finale were the moneymakers though. His first dunk was bizarre to watch, but beautiful on the replay. He placed the ball on the ground underneath the basket. He stood over the ball, steadied himself, then reached down, grabbed it, jumped straight up, and landed a windmill. A standing windmill. Think about trying to jump that high with no momentum. I tried to, but my ankles snapped and a substance not unlike blood started pouring down my leg. Ew.

His finish was just as strong. An alley-oop to a modified East Bay Funk.

It was pretty sick. Afterwards, Petway danced and posed for the crowd, showing that he's not short on showmanship. Or guns.

I didn't know until yesterday, however, what he's got up his sleeve. On his blog, Petway indicated that he's planning on putting out a YouTube Video challenging 2008 NBA Dunk Champion Dwight Howard to a dunk contest and completing all of Howard's dunks from the 2008 NBA Dunk Contest. Petway was kind enough to talk to me for a few minutes about the D-League Dunk Contest, his challenge to Dwight Howard, and life in the D-League.

HP: Thanks for talking with me today, Brent. Congrats on the dunk contest.

Petway: 'Preciate it man, it was a lot of fun.

HP: How long had you been working on the A La Carter and that sick between the legs you did to finish?

Petway: It was kind of spur of the moment. I tried it in practice and made it, and made it part of the routine.

HP: What made you pull out the Dominique special?

Petway: Well, I've always done the windmill. But I noticed I could add my own style to it because I can get it to bounce high and I can go up and catch it so high.

HP: What was the hardest dunk to pull off?

Petway: The one where I sit the ball on the ground, and jump up dead-leg and just go vertical. It's already hard to do a windmill. But doing it from the ground straight vertical? That's hard.

HP: Was it fun going up against (teammate) Mike (Taylor) in the finals?

Petway: Yeah, we do it every day in practice. We knew it was going to come down to the two of us.

HP: You mentioned in your blog that you're going to challenge Dwight Howard to a dunk contest. How are you planning on doing that?

Petway: Basically, I've seen all the dunks he did, and I believe I can do all of them. So I'm going to get a camera somehow, do all those, and show him that a fellow Georgia boy can get up too. And I won the D-League so I think we should crown an overall champ.

HP: You said you're planning on doing every dunk he did. Are you going to do the whole Superman cape-bit too?

Petway: (laughs) I won't put the cape on; I'll just do the dunk.

HP: Let's talk about the D-League some. In your opinion, what's the biggest part of your game that needs work to get you into the League?

Petway: Basically, just knocking down 17- to 20-footers. Gaining confidence. It's been coming along. Last couple of games I've been knocking it down.

HP: If you were to get called up, who would be the first person you'd call?

Petway: My mom. We're real close. She's a basketball fanatic, and she gets into it as much as I do.

HP: Was she down in New Orleans?

Petway: Yeah. Made the seven-hour drive along with my whole family.

HP: If you weren't in the D-League, what do you think you'd be doing?

Petway: Probably either coaching or broadcasting. If not, playing overseas.

HP: You got anything to say to Dwight Howard?

Petway: Just...Let's get this going. I know he'll be up for it. No reason we can't crown an overall champion for the NBA and the D-league. Why not just have the champions go at it?

Enjoy.

—————————————

This past Saturday night, while most of the world slept softly, headed to John Barleycorn to get tanked or just weren't accustomed to watching TNT on a regular basis, the NBA was doing its damn thing and AGAIN, saving sports right under your noses. Spygate, Kelvin Sampson and HGH were whisked away for a brief moment, while the NBA dunk contest brought style and ridiculosity back to the forefront of athletics, complete with capes, cupcakes, socks, and mini-hoops.

But aside form all the gimmickry and over-embellished disbelieving stink-faces in (see Rashad McCants' reaction to every Gerald Green dunk), it was Dwight Howard's performance that boldly captured the most valuable aspect of watching sports: the demonstration of things physically impossible to normal humans. Howard gleaned league-wide props for the now-legendary Superman dunk, as well as his leadoff dunk during which he maintained his entire body behind the backboard while his outstretched arm plunked the ball through the hoop.

However, Howard's most underrated and unbelievable jam was his second to last: the three-step-self-alley-oop-wallyball smash. The dunk was absolutely unfeasible by normal human standards, but Howard's meticulous coordination for a big man allowed him to complete a feat that we literally had never seen before.

And yes, the next day, the NBA's finest hit you off ONE MORE TIME with an improbable display of athleticism and skill during the most fun-to-watch all-star game in all of professional athletics.

There they were again, the 19th Century Montmartre cognoscenti in sneakers, again saving sports and hurling contract holdouts, DUIs and racetrackside racial slurs into the Caspian Sea. At least four dunks in that one game alone—the Amare-over-Howard "Black Jesus vs. God's Son" jam, two by LeBron (one of which of course being the pimp-slap posterization of Dirk Nowitzki in the final minute), and the Kidd-to-Bron-to-Howard trifecta—conveyed more aesthetic brilliance and potency than most of the NFC playoff games in their entirety. All-star weekend, complete with commissioner David Stern's masterfully orchestrated illusion that the league somehow revitalized the entire city of New Orleans in a single weekend was a grand triumph for The Association. The weekend validated us NBA diehards, making it OK to call professional basketball the greatest sport in the world without feeling like some Quebecois defending hockey to a bunch of gay-bashing Alabama Crimson Tide fans.

The takeaway lesson is that plays—not only dunks, but Ray Allen three-pointers, Chris Paul dimes and even those pithy little Dwyane Wade and-1s—count more than anything. As great as the recent Super Bowl was, with all that the Patriots wagered and with all of the collective conventional wisdom of all sports pundits prognosticating against the unsung Giants, that game is 10,000 times diminished without the David Tyree helmet catch. Single plays, especially in the age of YouTube clip and the Sportscenter highlight, define sport more than anything.

And my 109,678th reason as to why the NBA reigns supreme is that its games simply contain more plays than any other league. Save your pitchcounts for someone who gives a damn. When the Warriors and Suns are putting up 240 points in a game consisting mostly of Steve Nash alley-oops, Monta Ellis climbing invisible ladders, and Stephen Jackson cherry-bombs from 35 feet out, that is excitement on the level of pure shots of norepinepherine to the face.

The Rookie-Sophomore faux-Rucker Classic on Friday night was a preview of what the glorious future holds. The dunk contest and festivities of Saturday night put the "single play" in a magnified display case. The all-star game itself, in all of its sloppy, turnover-laden, Doug Collins-infuriating glory reminded us that the game of professional basketball is an everlasting bottle of pills, all of those little multicolored feel-good delights.

Of course the macroeconomic parallel to 'single plays as valued goods' is the flurry of transactions (franchise-level "plays") that the league has so blessed us with this season. As a result of the meteoric emergence of Michael Beasley/Derrick Rose/Brook Lopez as well as the landscape-altering Pau Gasol trade to the Lakers, each team—blindly following the zeitgeist—has given itself with two choices: Tank or Panic. And never has this decision presented itself so early in the season, well before this Thursday's impending trade deadline.

The Western Conference has been set afire ever since Memphis commenced with their explicit and unembarrassed tank-move of trading Gasol. Sacramento is the most recent tanker, finally parting ways with Mike Bibby. Dallas and Phoenix, on the other hand, panicked in betting the farm on aging stars, Jason Kidd and Shaq. These moves, direct responses to the Lakers' acquisition of Gasol, as if to say, "No Kobe Bryant-helmed team will win a title in this lifetime," are most likely to the benefit of Phoenix and to the detriment of Dallas. And regardless of the outcome, madness is in the air. The Atlanta Hawks for chrissakes are a playoff contending team again (does Celtics/Hawks in round 1 remind anyone of Warriors/Mavs?). All-star weekend was the warning to casual fans, but we have known this from day one—the NBA is your savior, and the second half of this season will be the magnificent panacea to all that ails you.

Finally the right man wins the dunk contest. This is what happens when you don't allow Michael Jordan to be a judge, even if Darryl Dawkins is perhaps his equal in hateration. Howard stole the show in what many are saying was one of the best dunk contests ever, if at least in recent memory.

For all the difficulties that Gerald Green was having getting a decent ball from Rashad McCants, I think it behooves the scientific community to create a dunk contest lobbing machine of some sort. They might sniff that it's a narrow purpose, but I contend a necessary one.

Meanwhile, Toronto's Jason Kapono took the 3-point shootout for the second straight year with a record-tying final round score of 25 and I stage yawned for all to see.

If you're surprised at the Orlando Magic's strong start, you haven't watched Dwight Howard this season. At various times in his young career, Howard's been overpowering, agile, immense, fluid, frightening and startling. Now, he's all that at once, and his NBA's buzz index has lept into the red. Henry Abbott's watching Howard every chance he gets — previously the kind of thing one said only about the Phoenix Suns — and Jack McCallum's giving him the royal treatment. I'm even returning to Eric Neel's 2006 claim that Howard, not Bron Bron, would hold the league's spine high over his head.

This holiday season, I'm downright thankful for Dwight Howard. Not just for the orgiastic basketball fury he's visited upon the entire league, but also for a more personal matter. See, Dwight Howard gave me the gift of life. You know those creepy statistics the radio's so fond of feeding you, about how by the time you die, you'll have spent 19 years asleep, or four stuck in traffic? Well, if you've been alive since the 21st century started, you've probably spent about three months being told how important Big Men are. And for once, I actually care that it's true.

In the NBA, there are big men, and then there are Big Men. Garnett, Amare and Chris Bosh all have height on their side, but they shrink in face of Tim Duncan, Yao or Shaq when the hamburger moon is full. I know that Big Men win championships, especially after watching Shaq and Duncan get rings as effortlessly as a river carving up stone. I also know that Big Men, no matter how dominant or skilled, are a liability for me as a viewer. I remember Young Shaq, Hakeem at his most lyrical, and David Robinson the one time he got loose. Base a team around a Big Man, though, and there's a good chance it'll be a drag.

While Shaq and Duncan are very different players, they have one thing in common: They've been the focal point of dynasties that were hard to watch. Unless Kobe grabbed the reins, the Lakers were methodical and predictable. The Spurs, as versatile as they've proven to be, still rely on throwing the ball down to Duncan and expecting him to deliver. I've never understood why, if an iso is anathema, endless posting up can satisfy the soul. Big Men are closer to the basket, which allows them to play a more simple, predictable version of the game. And, irony of all ironies, the very term "center" is a ceaseless reminder that everything exciting in basketball is a blow against its heritage.

Part of the reason the Suns felt so right in 2004 is that they'd effectively rejected the Big Man. D'Antoni replaced that role with Amare, a springy power forward who was usually going through or over the lane. When Stoudemire went down, Boris Diaw — an oversized point guard — took up that place in the starting line-up. How liberating it felt to experience the NBA without the long shadows of Duncan and Shaq falling over it. Granted, the Suns can't get past Duncan, and teams still lined up to lose games and grab Greg Oden. But at least Phoenix was a team devoid of center-lust, one who mustered up confidence despite having no Big Man. Certainly, this was more convincing than previous attempts by Garnett and Dirk to change the meaning of the seven-footer; both of them ended up stuck with lumbering stiffs by their side.

And yet what makes Howard so terrifying is that — at the risk of making no sense whatsoever — he's a Big Man with the same qualities as the Suns, a true center with all the dynamism of a fast break. It's almost like someone took the pre-surgery Stoudemire, added height and weight and made him learn to survive without Steve Nash. When Amare dunked, it was a split-second shock; Howard, on the other hand, constantly radiates energy and destruction. Watching Howard inch toward the hoop, biding his time until he pounces, is more exciting than most guards taking their man off the dribble. His whole body twitches with possibility, creating the illusion of activity even when, in purely spatial terms, there's very little.

Howard's Magic couldn't have a less inventive offense; Young Thunder rules the earth, sidekick Rashard Lewis strokes threes and occasionally puts it on the floor, and everyone else picks up the scraps. The point, though, is that it doesn't take a gimmick-y system for a team to entertain viewers. There's not such a hard and fast division between execution and fun, substance and style, or The Right Way and my couch. Any role on the floor can be animated, made into something breathtaking, if the right player gets handed it. If a player or team feels stifled, they have no one but themselves to blame. Or maybe nothing but their genes, since Howard's unlikely combination of size and flight seems like something out of the NFL combine.

That's why Orlando stays high in my League Pass rotation, as does New Orleans, who are similarly "old-fashioned" without ever courting blandness. The post-Jordan era taught us that imitators of MJ could make the game every bit as drab as the orthodoxy they rebelled against. Here's to the Dwight Howard, where the past wakes up and realizes it can stand tall in the present.

That's what Michael Jordan helped to rob you of during the NBA's Slam Dunk contest. It's nice to see it on YouTube, but it would have been far nicer to see it in primetime on TNT, in place of Nate Robinson missing dunks for two straight minutes.

It's unsanitary, probably, kissing the rim like that... but you should have seen what Marv Albert wanted to do to it.

What Would Have Been: Dwight's 'Kiss the Rim' Dunk [NBA FanHouse]
Dwight Howard - Kiss the Rim Dunk [YouTube]

There aren't many good reasons not to like Shaq. This was Shaq having fun at the All-Star practice yesterday, forcing LeBron and Dwight Howard to have fun along with him. I realize that Shaq is not everyone's cup of tea, but when he retires, who's going to do stuff like this? It seems like Shaq is making a concerted effort to pass the torch to Dwight Howard this weekend.

Shaq Lebron and Howard Dancing [YouTube]

Dwight Howard is getting all the credit for this, and sure ... Dwight Howard's freakish abilities speak for themselves. But how about that lob from Hedo Turkoglu? Magic Johnson couldn't have done it better. Picture perfect. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that's the best contribution to basketball that Turkoglu has ever made.

And seeing someone throw a good pass was probably a nice change of pace for people in the state of Florida.

Dwight Howard is awesome [George: The Blog]

[Mary's] voice is wrecked from too much drinking and not enough sleeping. "I've missed four flights. I'm stuck in Florida. "I went back to Chris Kirkpatrick's house. I got myself in a sticky situation because I mentioned where Chris Kirkpatrick lives. Dwight Howard just showed up at the door [at 4 a.m.]. ...

"Dwight Howard came over with one of his friends. Mary stranded him. She didn't want Chris to be mad at her and didn't want Dwight to be mad at her. She was talking to both. Dwight came over and didn't know anybody but Mary. She left him in the front hallway. 'Amelia, keep him busy while I go see if Chris is mad.' Dwight seemed really shy. He was texting on his cell phone. He definitely wasn't mad. Everybody involved was just confused. She was telling people's secrets. She was telling me to run over and ask Chris this and that."

Howard, who will be 21 next month, ended up not meeting up with Carey, but he did leave her tickets to the Magic game. Sadly, they were only in the ninth row; better luck next time, Mary!

Mary Carey Parties With N'Sync's Chris Kirkpatrick & Orlando Magic's Dwight Howard [Luke Is Back] (third of the way down the page)