I’d skip right on over to here for Hornets.com coverage of the All Star Weekend, which is right now featuring All Star Diaries from David West and Peja Stojakovic (man, despite this blog’s families having originated in Croatia and Poland, that one still gives me pause… and believe me when I say, we’ve got enough Eastern European extraneous letters around this here apartment to float alphabet soup).
I thought this article was going to be the same old crap, but it ends on an up note and for that I respect them.
T.P. Watchdog Effort: Seriously respectable sports section today. CP3’s picture was in it no less than four times. I think only three pages didn’t have Hornets content. Of course, much of it was All Star content, but they did a good job with the Hornets-oriented All Star articles. T.P. Watchdog… keeping the media responsible & buzz-friendly since 2007.
Went to Hornets night at the Jam Session on Wednesday. If I had kids or was the kind of person who doesn’t mind waiting in lines to participate in contests and activities (I’m not), it would have been more fun. But the store rocked. Picked up two T-shirts, the mug (with the crawfish All Star logo!), and the bead (indecent to live in New Orleans and pay for a bead, let alone $8 for a bead, but come on… All Star bead!) I was disappointed you couldn’t buy a West West jersey in small sizes. In fact, they should have had an altogether better selection of stuff for the Hornets all stars. That’s what the people were there for. Give the people what they want!
All Star coverage on ESPN right now is mildly hilarious. CP3 calling Deion Sanders old, a chef from Galatoire’s cooking stuff up on the spot, and Amare Stoudamire is currently getting his tarot cards read. You should turn it on.
This blog has tickets to the Rookie Game, the Skills Competition, and the All Star Game on Sunday night. So watch for updates on famous people sightings! (But don’t get your hopes up. I am notoriously bad at spotting famous people. I once poured water for Peyton Manning without looking up under the baseball cap, no joke.)