Fan Duel Toronto Raptors

, ,

Fear and Loathing in Delaware: Raptors 905 Losing Streak Hits Nine

Sim Bhullar made an appearance and Ronald Roberts did his usual thing of dominating. The Raptors 905 also did their usual thing and lost.

It was the summer of 1998 and the Corsica had broken down in an uninhabitable town on the outskirts of Bloomington, Indiana.  The rustic road where the old reliable had decided to concede after a decade of service told its own tales, far sorrier than mine.  As I stood there, rain pouring down my face and reaching for my last dollar, I contemplated what had become of a life that had started off, if not promising, then at the very least lending a hint of hope.  Had it really come to this? Penniless and without shelter, now having to pawn off the watch my father had given me, his last possession before the Greyscale ran its course.  It was a moment where nothing existed except the depths of despair, and forced this servant of the Gods to recognize that this was a pivotal moment in a life not lived at all.  My soul hasn’t faced a moment like that until today.  Yes, today.  When I covered a Raptors 905 team whose featured attraction was Sim Bhullar.  It’s time again to reevaluate life.

There’s not much to say about the Raptors 905 even when they have Bruno Caboclo, Lucas Noguiera, Delon Wright, and Norman Powell playing, so without them around, I may as well have been staring at dark matter.  Or maybe I was, because that’s what Ronald Roberts sort of is.  He’s stuck in the mysterious and confusing realm between being too good for the D-League and not good enough for the NBA, and finds himself waiting for an NBA call. In fact, I’m almost positive he played this game with his cellphone in his pocket checking his texts after every scoring play.

He had his moments, like he always does, and here’s a couple:

Roberts was 9-16 FG for 22 points to go along with 10 rebounds and zero incoming text messages.  The last stat is the one that truly counts in Roberts’ head, who must be wondering when he’ll finally have enough money to afford a 2GB data plan, because this pay-as-you-go shit isn’t cutting it.

Gentle giant, Sim Bhullar, was in action as well. Or more correctly, he moved from Point A to Point B looking like he was sleepwalking with a blanket over his head.  At one point, I thought he was going to walk off the court mid-play and wander into the desert never to be seen again.

Here’s some good from Bhullar:

That play right there sums up exactly what he is as a player.  As in, he’s able to catch the ball as long as it’s thrown right at him, then he’s able to move his arms (while holding the ball) towards the rim, and provided nobody’s around him, gently dunk it, and walk back up the court like it ain’t even a thang.  

Now, if you place Bhullar in a different, more relevant context, say with defenders around him, this will likely be the outcome:

Ah, not so hot.  We wish the guy well, but it certainly looks like he won’t be getting an NBA call-up anytime soon.  He had 4 points and 2 rebounds in 12 minutes on 2-5 FG.  Good stuff.

The game itself was something like a scene from the The Wire: you mostly feel sorry for everyone involved.  The Delaware 87ers (eight-y-sev-en-er-s, 6 syllables, not a good name) took an early lead, Raps 905 clawed back through Roberts and kept it close till the third when Delaware pulled away.  

The only thing that I got out of anyone not named Bhullar and Roberts, was Axel Toupane. If he could shoot threes at a 40% clip, he might make a name for himself as a 3-and-D guy except that he’s at 32%, and he’s no James Johnson, so D-League it is for now.

Scott Suggs matched Roberts for 22 points and looks to be able to get his points easily in the league.  He’s got a comfortable handle, good pull-up game, and shoots 46% from deep while being 6’6”.  The defense is a little shifty, but if he can commit on that end, he might get lucky and pull off an Alan Anderson.  

The final score from Delaware is 119-104, and the 905’s losing streak now stands at 9, they’re dead-last in the Eastern Conference at 5-18, but none of that matters. Time for a drink. Or ten.