Moving a pile of Turkoglu

Goodbye, ‘Turk’. Wish I could say it’s been good to know ya, but the only thing good about you was the leavin’. There won’t be any sad laments written in your honor.

‘Why is that?’ you ask. Well, let’s just say you’re among the worst of the breed of “sports louts”; guys who thinks their athletic skills put them above the plane of civility, honesty, hard work and accountability.

You arrived….(sigh)……tired. You pretty much stayed, acted and played that way all season. When you had the odd game in which you showed some of why they brought you to Toronto, you play the surly card in an after game interview, doing your level best to embarrass a guy that was one of your ongoing apologists, Jack Armstrong.

In this wired world, you’d have to be either extremely stupid, or extremely arrogant to think you can badmouth your employer in interviews just because you happen to be in Europe at the time. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt on that one – you’re obviously both.

That episode of being “too sick” to play, but not party, should have resulted in an extremely public benching, Instead, management indulged your stupid self and chalked it up to a ‘misunderstanding’. I’ll say. You just didn’t ‘understand’ why they were paying you all those millions.

You’re taking your surly, lumbering act elsewhere. Because you have that big, guaranteed contract, you’ll be up to your ‘old’ tricks in no time. I’m not a fan of that contrived mannequin, Colangelo, but I have to give him some credit for finding someone to take you off our hands.

I guess I have one other thing to be thankful for: You’ve delivered a metaphor for moving something that farmers usually cart away on a manure wagon – enjoy your new surroundings, you big pile of Turkoglu.

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