Karl Malone. The Mailman. I could praise him for all of his accomplishments and positive traits–especially in light of his recent Hall of Fame induction–but I’ll leave that to this fabulous tribute written by Ball Don’t Lie’s Kelly Dwyer. Instead, I’ll write about how this man (and his jersey) personally affected me.
It is because of Karl Malone I became fascinated with the pick-and-roll. It is because of Karl Malone that I like Paul Millsap (they both attended Louisiana Tech). It is because of Karl Malone that I prefer the name “Carl/Karl” to be spelled with a K rather than a C. It is because of Karl Malone that I love the color purple–especially on jerseys. It is because of Karl Malone that I have preached for years that Utah has better skiing than Colorado, even though I have no grounding in making such a claim. It is because of Karl Malone that I place my left hand on my head, while sticking my elbow, every time I jam on a fast break. It is because of Karl Malone that I lift weights before playing basketball, even though it has proved crippling to my shooting ability. It is because of Karl Malone that, no matter when I play basketball, I call my coach “Jerry” and my point guard “John.” (Keep in mind that I normally play point guard, so often times this worries and concerns my teammates.) It is because of Karl Malone that, despite me being a vegetarian, I have taken up hunting/fishing and have successfully murdered two rhinos, one giant squid, and three unicorns. I’ll stop before I get into politics or paternity, so let’s leave it at this: the dude was a first class scorer, worker, and power forward–it’s a damn shame he never got his ‘ship. At least he knew how to slam on opponents like they were all Shawn Bradley or Sasha Grey or something.
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