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If this year's Pistons were characters on Seinfeld, the casting would be as follows:

Chauncey Billups = Jerry – Everything starts with him. Not the strongest character, but the most indispensable. We can all agree that Jerry was running point.

Ben Wallace = Kramer – Both are tall, have big hair, and come from a large family of sharecroppers in rural Alabama. Also, like Kramer, Big Ben is the most easily identifiable one of the cast, and the immediate (but ultimately incorrect) pick for best character/player

Rip Hamilton = George – Team MVP. There's a subtle appreciation involved, and only true fans realize the greatness of each.

Rasheed = Frank Costanza – Both scream a lot and are terrific cooks.

Tayshaun = Elaine – Someone has to play the role, and Tayshaun is the all-purpose guy.

Larry Brown = The Maestro

Joe D. = Larry David

Darko = Baboo

Do with this information what you must. The Links: – Pretty good rundown of the best and worst NFL draft picks over the years. Of course, picking Bradshaw over Vick as the best overall number one is a joke. Four Super Bowl rings, you say? Please. We're talking about Mike Vick, the greatest football player of all-time; the modern day Troy; the man who will lead us all to victory against the rise of the machines; quite possibly the most remarkable human being who's ever lived or ever will. Mike Vick eats Super Bowl rings for breakfast, and then spits them back out because they aren't refined enough for his palate. (Donal de B.) – Shortly after landing this job, I wound up on a list that gets me press passes to various movie screenings in Atlanta. I guess that, technically, it might make sense, although in reality it's sort of ridiculous. Therefore, since I saw Cinderella Man a couple of weeks ago, I'll use this link to quickly weigh in on the movie and, in the process, justify this awesome perk:

Taking artistic license to make the Max Baer character more villainous not only offended the family, but, in my opinion, helps explain the major problem with the film – it's bludgeoning, sappy plot development. One moment, Russell Crowe delivers an Oscar-worthy scene, and in the next we get bombarded with some over-the-top flashback, presumably to hammer home the obvious points that: (a) Braddock was a tough-as-nails hero, (b) Baer was a remorseless beast, and (c) the Great Depression was surprisingly little fun. It seemed like everything was in place for this great period piece as seen through the eyes of an everyman boxer, except they tinkered with a terrific story and made it as subtle as your typical John Woo action film. Okay, that's my two cents. (Matt G.) – Everything about Tyson nowadays just depresses me. Isn't it amazing how incredibly sorry you can feel for a scary as hell convicted rapist that bites peoples' ears off? Or maybe that's just me. More importantly, what's with that picture of Russell Crowe on the left-hand side? He looks like he's auditioning to become the next Lord of the Dance.



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