The gall of Jerry Stackhouse

Like a deranged Chef Boyardee

I've got to admit, I didn't expect to see this headline this morning or ever, really: Stackhouse Considering Leaving Mavericks.

So long. Fare thee well. Adios. Don't let the door hit you on your way out.

I mean, the guy's got balls. Giant gilded brass balls. Kinda why I like the guy. His skills have eroded over the years and, frankly, I don't know if he truly met the expectations he had coming out of college. Maybe he did. Nonetheless, I loved him with the Mavericks because unlike Steve Nash, Mike Finley, Dirk Nowitzki, Shawn Bradley and Jason Terry, he had moxy. He strutted around the court as if he were the baddest motherfucker in the league.

But the balancing his lack of skills as a capable NBA player versus the intangibles gets tough after time. Intangibles are great when you're teams good. Otherwise, it's icing on a shit cake.

Now, the Mavs can either trade him (who'd want him), waive him (likely) or buy out his $7 due this year and $2 million guaranteed next year.

Oh, hold on. This just in. There's a fourth way the Mavs can handle this: Instead of continually cowtowing to the needs of this spoiled players, why not sit his wrinkled ass on the end of the bench next to James Singleton and J.J. Barea?

With him or without him, it's time to move on.