montestewart wrote:Kanyewest wrote:Does your crystal ball predict that the Wizards will face a Warriors team without Steph Curry in the finals?
There's probably a funny movie along those lines, a mediocre NBA team improbably stumbling to the Finals
Gilbert Arenas comes back as a coach of a G-League team. Okay the Go-Go. Somehow ironically Gil gets them to play defense with the instruction "don't do anything I ever used to do. Except shoot. Shoot like me. Do everything else that I didn't do". The squad starts winning while the big league club founders. Wizards, why not. Still, Gil gets annoyed that as soon as he coaches up a guy, that player gets snatched away and mis-coached by the coach of the NBA affiliate, so they get fatheaded and forget where they came from. Also he's frustrated that his minor leaguers can't shoot. He regularly outguns them in practice. One knucklehead hypertalent challenges him that his time is long over and he doesn't know how to do it in real life. What the hell, It's the G-League, Gil suits up as a player coach and starts torching the league. His players notice, pick up his practice habits, start to shoot. Eventually the NBA affiliate makes the play in games, but unfortunately every single member of their squad is unable to play due to a pandemic of terrible luck. Rabies, herpes, shootout in the locker room, bench clearing fistfight over a thottie that multiple players on different teams are each dating. Whatever.
Still, the show must go on. The League allows the team to call up the entire G-League team on a hardship exemption. Including player-coach Gilbert. Gil knows they can't win, so he pranks his opponents best players to keep them up late, drunk, fighting etc . Come to find out he was the cause of the NBA affiliate self-destructing as well, a series of cascading mischievous pranks gone wrong. This gave him the idea to use that tactic on opponents as well. create scouting reports on opponents weakness. Use psychological advantage. Piss off the opponents and get in their head before games. And coaches. And referees. And announcers. And owners. Win by win til the championship. Where his team finally loses, because the league wants the stars to win not the collection of thugs and knuckleheads that Gilbert has assembled.
That's cool. That's fine. Gilbert steals the trophy anyway and escapes by riding away on a rented scooter. The opposing team bus is occupied by whatever their mascot is (raging hornets, a rampaging Bull, a second line Jazz parade irritated that Utah has stolen the moniker, or I dunno, in the case of New York stuffed to the roster with ladies lingerie. Gilbert: "What is a knickerbocker? That's underwear right?" ). In the trophy case, the obnoxious owner discovers he now has on display, in bright lights, protected by alarms, a single large bronzed turd on a pedestal. Roll credits.
