In this, the first edition of the PILTW's I'll unsystematically pick apart Joe-Kim Noah and why I would like to, as the infamous TJ Detweiler coined phrase goes, whomp him. You'll see a number of posts like these over the rest of the offseason because, frankly, I'll do just about anything to keep you coming back short of knocking on your door and caroling -- Tanner handles that. Anyway....
It started, as all irrational hatreds do, in a video game. The best video game to be exact -- College Hoops 2k7. I was a first semester senior in high school with a devilishly tasty case of Senioritis, a car, and a friend with an X-Box 360. So naturally I spent every waking moment playing College Hoops with said friend, who is probably reading this (or he's a bad friend). Unfortunately for me and the Video Game Gods to which I pledge my occasional allegiance, he played as the Florida Gators 99% of the time (UNC 1%). That Gators team, which I will detest with all of my heart for the rest of my soulless life, consisted of Taurean Green, Lee Humphrey, Corey Brewer, Al Horford, and Joakim Noah. With "Fatigue" turned off in the game settings, my friend need not call Chris Richard, Walter Hodge, or a freshly post-pubescent Marreese Speights from the bench. He would instead use Noah's freakish length, miscalculated speed, athleticism, and shot-blocking attributes to full-court press the b'jesus out of my boys (most often Georgia Tech -- Javaris Crittenton, Anthony Morrow, pre-Sixer Thaddeus Young, Jeremis Smith, Ra'Sean Dickey, Lewis Clinch, Mohammed Faye, D'Andre Bell -- all from memory) and intercept passes he had no business getting to. I think over the course of my senior year, I won 3 games out of about a million, though the unfounded accusations of an "Offensive Rebounding Cheat" are still drifting around somewhere.
So in the next two years where I was forced to watch Billy Donovan's annoyingly good team beat up on Arron Afflalo, Jordan Farmar, and Ryan Hollins then the equally hated Ohio State Buckeyes with Mike Conley Jr., Daequan Cook, David Lighty, Othello Hunter, Ron Lewis, Ivan Harris, and Greg Oden, my hatred grew. The reports that he didn't want to play professional basketball and instead play tennis like his stupid father, his stupid French name, that you don't know what he's talking about, and the undeniable fact that he is the ugliest player -- nay, person -- in the world all boiled inside me like Ramen in your stomach just before your small intestines eat away at themselves and deteriorate.
Sure, he hustles. Yeah, he has great rebounding percentages. Good for him. I could make a Reggie Evans comparison, but the truth is, he's a much better player. One who maybe has toned down the antics a bit this past season, and developed a shell of an offensive game that may fill out eventually. I don't care. Only Jon Lovitz can truly express how I feel about him from the awesomely disturbing movie Happiness (kind of NSFW).
And yes, I know Jordan is a big Noah fan, as are most in the NBA blogosphere. But advanced statistics and comprehensive numbers won't sway my opinion as they usually (allegedly) do. Of the crazy people that pronounce their name (sometimes) Wah-Keem or Wah-Keen, I prefer Mr. Phoenix. I sincerely hope Joakim gets traded to Minnesota where David Kahn forces him to play point guard, he never wins a championship and his career plateaus and careens downward as soon as possible.
Because you, Joakim Noah, totally whomp.