We've Changed Our Mind About You, DeAndre Jordan.
Dear DeAndre Jordan,
What's up big guy? Are you having fun on your Caribbean cruise? We wanted to get it straight from the horse's mouth because, well, we've heard mixed things. Anyway, if we had dicked around a billion dollar NBA franchise by verbally agreeing to sign with them only to go back on our word like a two-faced little fuckwad, though, you can guarantee we'd have gotten our asses out of Dodge, too.
The thing is, it's not so much what you did — saying one thing and doing the complete opposite — as how you did it. For me, aside from your whole wishy-washy, non-committal attitude, your timing is probably one of your worst qualities. After leading Mark Cuban and the Mavericks to believe that you would be filling the team's starting center role this coming season, you waited until the night before the NBA's moratorium period ended to pull the ol' last minute switcheroo? That was some real bullshit.
For five whole days we watched all kinds of potential Mavs centers land elsewhere. Why would we try to re-sign Tyson Chandler for big bucks when we were operating under good faith that your sorry ass would be accepting a max deal to play for us? We didn't even think about going after other options like Roy Hibbert or Enes Kanter. Why would we? Answer: Because we're not terrible, back-stabbing stacks of scum like you.
It's not just one of the biggest dick moves in the history of NBA free agency, it's also, technically speaking, illegal. According to TMZ, it's a legal term called promissory estoppel, allowing the Mavericks to believe a deal was done so that they wouldn't pursue other deals.
Of course, because the way this whole sorry situation shook out, you showed so many other character flaws beyond simply being a doofus that can't make up his damn mind or a shifty son of a bitch with an inability to keep a promise. For another thing, when Cuban came to your home in Houston to talk to you face to face, you straight up lied, saying you were on a date. And via a cowardly text, too. Breaking up with a significant other via text is an egregious misstep in dating etiquette, generally reserved for scared little prepubescents engaged in one of their first relationships. Somehow, though, ghosting on an $80 million deal, refusing to answer texts from your longtime bff Chandler Parsons and pretending you're not home when the boss comes to visit somehow seems so much more immature.
Come on; you're better than that. Or maybe you're not. Perhaps that explains why the Clippers were so worried your flim-flamming ass would renege on your renege that they felt the need to physically
kidnap babysit you until the 12:01 deadline passed and they could watch you sign your deal in-person. Yeesh. Pretty pathetic stuff all around.
Yeah, you really showed your true colors there. You're just a scared little boy that's not ready to put a team on his shoulders — or to conduct himself like a grown ass man, for that matter. Or, as your ex-pal Parsons put it, “He wasn't ready to be a franchise player. He was scared to take the next step in his career. That's why I was so into this, because it's the same thing I want. It's the same exact reasons I left Houston. That's why I thought he was going to leave L.A. He was tired of being in the shadows. He wanted a bigger role. He wanted the attention he deserves, which is why it's so mind-blowing, because he's going back to the same exact thing that he wanted to leave for the last couple of weeks.”
Like a chump.
Don't get me wrong; there are a lot of terrible humans on the planet, and we're not exactly equating what you did with, say, stealing thousands of gallons from the city during a severe drought because you are an entitled douchebag, it's just that we expected a bit more integrity from a guy with no fewer than four religious tattoos permanently etched on his chiseled frame. We find the Matthew 5:4-5 bible verse on your chest an especially pertinent one to recall in a situation like this. That one reads: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.”
How prophetic! If we were to interpret those words correctly, it would appear the Mavs are [hashtag] blessed that we are mourning the loss of your unreliable services, because we are all set to inherit next year's title with or without you.
And it does somehow make us feel a little bit better about you taking your talents to Los Angeles next year.
In the end, it's fine, I suppose. Because what the team is so desperate for this offseason is a big man. And you, sir, have proven yourself quite small.
Yours, and then not yours, and then yours again,
Cory Graves and the rest of the Central Track staff