Asher doesn’t have a good sense of “personal space”

Unempowered-Latent Wolf Shifter Couple OCs

Magnum, Latent Shifter (ears are the colour of his wolf form)

He manifested latent Shifter magic under duress, promptly freaking out when he spontaneously shifted and just running into the woods around his hometown. By the time he wore down his magic enough to de-shift, and was calm enough to not just re-shift on the spot, he was very very far away and very lost. Turns out, he ended up in the woods outside a house in a small rural devision and his presence is noticed by the teenage girl living there with her parents.

enter Galena, Unempowered human

She doesn’t know what’s going on but she knows someone’s out there and they’re hurt and need help (she kept finding footprints and occasionally blood).

So she starts sneaking stuff out of the house and leaving it in the woods for him - wound care, food, blankets, old clothes. He takes them and stays out of sight cause he still can’t control his shift so he’s going in and out of it constantly.

Eventually she catches him gathering the latest batch but he’s in wolf form and she’s just 👁️👄👁️. But then she sneaks out again later and sees him shift to mostly-human and she’s just like, “oh, werewolf, that makes sense”

It’s like winter when this happens so eventually it gets too cold for him to be safely outside so she sneaks him into the house and into her room and hides him - best idea ever!

Someone finds out about Magnum and attacks him. Or someone starts hunting his wolf form so he plans on leaving but Galena refuses to stay behind. Possibly also gets spotted with Magnum so she also needs to run.

So they run.

Eventually they end up around Dahlia in bad weather, both exhausted, banged up, and scared. Magnum has done his best to keep Galena safe and well, running the risk of someone spotting his white wolf form to keep her warm at night in lieu of a fire.

During a rare group run, Christian, Asher, Amanda, Milo, Micah(oc), Darlin, and David catch wind of Magnum’s scent and go to investigate. They’re somewhat surprised to find a juvenile Wolf Shifter curled around a teenage girl, but even more surprised when the pair wake all of a sudden and immediately go into fight or flight

Magnum goes on the defense while Galena takes off into the woods

David splits his group, sending Asher, Milo, and Amanda after Galena and Christian, Micah, and Darlin fan out around David in fighting formation. All the Shaw wolves can clearly see how bad off Magnum is - his fur is matted and caked in filth, even blood here and there, and they watch as the trembling in his legs travels to the rest of his body. His usually warm brown eyes are heavy and lidded, dull from exhaustion.

They assume once David goes Alpha Mode, the youngster will fold.

Which almost happens, until Christian moved a little too quickly in the vague direction Galena ran and Magnum pounces

It’s not much of a fight. Running only on adrenaline against four full fledged adult Wolves, two of whom are tanks and one an actual Alpha, doesn’t give Magnum much chance. They’re all leery of actually hurting the whelp more so any swipes or bites are the most gentle they can manage.

The stress of it all pushes Magnum into a haze, making him sloppy and staggering. At the exact wrong moment he tried to pivot from a nip given by Micah, just in time for his neck to meet the open mouth warning snarl of David. David tried to close his jaw but he was a fraction too slow and closed around Magnum’s neck. David’s instinctual reaction to yank his head away pulled Magnum with him as David’s jaws were opening, resulting in Magnum stumbling over the edge of a nearby decline.

As the Shaw wolves rushed to the edge, Magnum tumbled head over paws to the bottom of the small drop and de-shifted back to his human form, barely conscious. By the time the older wolves slid down to him, he was completely blacked out

Meanwhile, Galena was doing her damnedest to move through the trees as smoothly and quickly as she could manage. She didn’t really have a head start but Asher didn’t want to freak her out by having three wolves just charging up on her so he, Milo, and Amanda were going at a slow jog and working to hem her in on both sides.

Milo was on point with Amanda and Asher going down the sides and they pretty well had Galena corralled in a tightening, moving circle. Galena couldn’t see them through the trees and made the mistake of pausing briefly to catch her breath and try to see.

Asher’s signal howl to Milo to move forward startled her into a jog and she looked behind her to see Milo’s compact form appear out of some bushes, eyes glowing in the moonlight. With a gasp she broke into a dead run

Which was abruptly halted as she came face to face with Asher stepping from behind a tree. Galena shrieked and pivoted on her heel to avoid running into him, but not even 10 steps later her foot caught on a rock, sending her (much like her boyfriend) stumbling before losing her balance and falling head-first into a tree.

At the sound of an unpleasant crunch, Milo and Asher shifted and ran to check she was still alive. Thankfully she was, just knocked out and bloody. Carefully Asher picked her up, making sure to support her head, and Amanda joined them as they went to rendezvous with the others.

They take them to David and Angel’s house and call Marie and Madi(oc) to come look them over and do necessary heals. Sweetheart and Baabe were hanging out with Angel while their Mates were out running, so while David’s driving, Asher calls ahead to get the guest room set up and some spare clothes. The Mates were already planning on ordering food once the runners got back, what’s a few people more

David has a whale of a time trying to explain the situation to the two healers, getting glared at all the while and Milo and Asher quipping not helping the situation one bit. He struggles to find a way to make it clear they didn’t intend for all that to happen for a whole 10 minutes while Madi and Marie are working on the two still very very out of it teenagers until he gets fed up with the two womens’ unconvinced looks and stomps out of the living room to the kitchen while Angel fights back a laugh. She follows him to the kitchen to help calm him down and the other two Mated pairs also struggle to smother their snickering at their lovably grumpy Alpha

Eventually the pair come to, somewhat, coughing and whimpering in pain. Marie goes into assessment mode, but they're both so wiped they’re just zombies even when they’re responding to questions. It’s all just rote and automatic.

Galena’s the easier of the two to treat, as most of her issues are her new head wound and some mild bruising. Magnum has a fair amount of cuts and scrapes, some of which have mild infections, and a good bump on the head from his fall. And there's this one wound on his arm that looks suspiciously like a bullet graze.

Eventually the healers finish patching Galena up and Angel and Sweetheart go to take her to the guestroom while Magnum is still being worked on. However, when they sit her down on the bed, Galena wakes up long enough to realize he’s not there and starts to freak out. To keep Galena from doing anything, Angel, Baabe, and Sweetheart have to run interference between the living room and guest room, giving a semi-lucid Galena updates.

Whenever Marie deems Magnum healed enough, Madi relays the news to Galena, finally getting her calmed enough for them to help her change clothes and crawl into bed. Somehow Galena manages to stay awake long enough for the guys to do the same to Magnum and get him situated next to her.

Almost as soon as they’re both lying down, Magnum reaches out blindly to find Galena and half-pull-her-half-pull-himself so he can wrap her up snuggly in his arms, and both of them are passed the fuck out for the next 23 hours at least

in true wolf pack solidarity, everyone else also crashes out from various combinations of run fatigue + excitement overload + late hour + food comas + magic drain for the healers

No. 11 - Struggling

Summary: Claire doesn’t know what’s loss until she no longer has her wings.

Read on: Ao3

Claire lays against the cold, stone floor, her hand digging into the crook of her elbow. The inject site no longer hurts but the silence that it brought is suffocating. It’s as if all her senses have been muted, washed out to the point of barely resembling what they were before. Guilt pools deep within her chest, sticky and unbearably hot. They forced Julian to live like this for days on end. No wonder he was so irritable.

She shifts, her head falling to the right. The bars obstruct her view, cutting it into strips, but she can clearly see Ian in the cell across from her. She’s fairly certain that Ashlyn rests in the one beside her and Milo in the one diagonal. She can only assume that Michela, Ellie, and Julian are in the ones out of her vision.

If she had her magic, she would be able to tell without even opening her eyes.

Ian groans from his cell and she can hear the rustle of clothes. She stands up and presses her face against the bars. Luckily they don’t hurt her. “Ian!”

Ian sits up, his eyes narrowed. He glances over to her and stands quickly, practically stumbling into the wall. “Claire! What’s going on?” He looks between the bars, eyes darting.

“I don’t know.” Claire bites back the whimper building in her chest. “Can you see anyone else?”

“Ashlyn’s beside you.” Ian says. His voice strains as he leans out between the bars. “I think Ellie’s beside her.”

“Milo’s next to you and I think it’s Michela next to him.” Claire could barely make out the soft grey of Michela’s sweater.

“So the only one who’s missing is Julian.” Ian’s grip tightens around the bars, his knuckles whitening. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Just because he isn’t here doesn’t mean he’s with them.” But Claire couldn’t stop the growing doubt. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the only member of a Thieves Guild in their group is the one that isn’t there.

“It was his idea to come here in the first place.” Ian releases the bars and leans against the wall, staring at the ceiling. “And apparently his father is here as well.”

“Maybe if we let him explain himself, we’d know.” Claire tries. She doesn’t quite believe the words herself but it feels wrong to not defend Julian when he wasn’t present himself to.

Ian barks out a laugh, bitter and mirthless. “Don’t you start too. We already have Michela jumping up to defend him, we don’t need another one.”

“I’m not defending him.” Claire instinctively reaches for her magic and flinches when all she brushes is a chilling emptiness. “I just want to know what’s the truth.”

Ian gestures to the cell, the smile tight on his face. “The truth is that we’re here and Julian isn’t.”

“We can’t take this for face value.” Claire tries to keep the tremor out of her voice but slips through the cracks. “We have no idea where he is.”

“My point exactly.” Ian grins, self-satisfaction burning bright within it.

Claire crosses her arms over her chest, goose flesh riddling them. She looks away from Ian, unable to understand why he’s being so hard on Julian. Yes the circumstances weren’t shining a very favorable light on him, but she couldn’t put the whole blame of their situation on him. They did bind and drag him to the front door themselves. He might’ve led them here but they put themselves into this situation.

“Claire? Ian?” Ashlyn’s voice filters up from her cell, thick with confusion and disorientation.

Ian glances over to her with a side eye. Claire steps up to the bars, shoving her face through them. “Ashlyn! I’m next to you.”

Ashlyn sticks her head out and peers over to Claire. She flings out her hand and Claire responds in kind. Their fingers barely brush together. “Are you hurt?” Ashlyn asks, her voice thick with concern.

“No.” Claire twists more of her body through the bars and she can grab onto Ashlyn’s fingers. “They only suppressed my magic.”

Ashlyn nods and glances over to Ian. “They suppressed yours too?”

Ian didn’t look over to them, keeping his gaze firmly on the ceiling and his arms crossed over his chest. “Yeah.” Something flickers in his voice and it takes Claire a moment to realize it’s bitter self-deprecation and frustration.

Ashlyn turns to the cells on the other side of her. “Ellie’s beside me while Michela’s across from her.” Ashlyn gestures with her other hand to the cell in question. “The only person I don’t see is Julian.”

Claire looks over to Ian. His expression tightens but he doesn’t say anything. “I wouldn’t go there. All we know is that he isn’t here.” Claire says in lieu of an answer.

The question is clearly written on Ashlyn’s face but she doesn’t say anything further. They sit like this for a while, content with their hands brushing. Ian doesn’t look at them, electing to the glare at the door leading out.

The door clatters open and Alden walks in. A predatory smile rests easy on his lips, natural and instinctive. His eyes are cold and sharp and a shiver runs down Claire’s smile when his gaze lands on her. She tears her hand from Ashlyn’s and clutches it to her chest.

“I expected more of you to be awake.” Alden’s voice is smooth, almost enough to hide the falsity of it.

“Alden.” Ashlyn spits the name, glaring. Her hands shake at her sides. “What do you think you're doing?”

Alden steps forward, resting a hand on the lock of Claire’s cage. Claire stumbles back, pulling on magic that wasn’t there. Alden pulls a key out of his pocket. “I’d tell you, but I doubt you would understand. It’s obvious that foresight isn’t your strong suit.”

“Step away from that cell.” Ashlyn’s voice is low, dangerously so. It’s powerful even without the addition of her magic. “Or you’re not going to like who you’ll see.”

Alden unlocks the cell and Claire steps back into the wall, digging her fingers into the concrete. She desperately reaches for something that isn’t there. “You can’t scare me with Morgan’s name.” Alden says. “I’ve tamed much worse.”

He steps into the cell despite Ashlyn’s screams, which have become more nonsensical in her frustration. He reaches a hand to her like she’d willingly go anywhere with him. “Go away.” Her voice is unsteady and weak, holding nowhere near the strength that Ashlyn’s does. But she hopes that it gets her point across.

“Now Claire.” The way that Alden says her name chokes her breath in her throat. “No matter what you try, you’re still coming with me.”

“No.” This time the word is stronger. Claire adds a glare to punctuate it.

Alden sighs but it’s more resigned than dejected. “We can do it your way, if you want.”

Claire tenses but it still doesn’t prepare her for what Alden does. He pounces and grabs Claire’s wrist. She tries to wrench in free but he ignites his magic against her skin. Normally her magic responds in kind, flaring to protect her from the worse. But nothing stops the magic from brushing against her skin.

Pain runs up her arm and she screams.

Her knees buckle and Alden drags her out of the cell. Ashlyn yells out, with Ian joining her a moment later. Claire tries to kick at Alden, flailing out with her arms to scratch anything she can get purchase. But he carries her out in such a way that she can’t break free.

Alden drags her through hallway after hallway and she eventually stops struggling. She has to save whatever strength she had left for when Alden releases her.

He stops in a room, shoving her into a chair not unlike one used for massages. Alden binds her wrists and ankles. She tugs against them but they won’t budge.

Another set of footsteps echo in the room but Claire can’t turn her head to see. They speak, their voice low and rough. Dissimilar to Alden’s. “Is that her?”

It sounds like Julian’s father.

A hand rotates her wrist, exposing the pale underside. The touch is chilled against her skin. “Yes Raymond.” Alden says. Something twists inside of her. Wasn’t that the name of the Royal Scientist’s brother? “This is the Ayers. Her wings should be the same length as yours.”

A chill pools in her chest and she can’t breathe. “W-What are you guys doing?”

Metal clatters beside her. “Don’t worry.” Alden says. He brings a needle up to the soft inner flesh of her arm. He presses against her veins before pressing the needle into her skin. He pushes down the stopper.

Everything within her ignites with an unexplainable electricity. Her magic fights against her as she tries to wrangle it into control, it wanting to obey her commands and shrink away from her. She loses and her wings activate in a brilliant spark of magic.

Alden grabs two other needles with practiced ease and steps behind her. She feels his hands against her shoulders, running along the joint where her wings meet her back. He inserts a needle at the base of each wing, injecting the liquid beneath her skin. She tries to stop him but she can barely move with the restraints and her magic roaring in her body.

The moment her wings go numb she lashes out with her magic. Alden presses a hand against her throat. “I wouldn’t try that.” He says, his voice low and practically a hiss. “I don’t need you alive for what I’m doing.”

Dread settles deep into her bones and a sticky fear crawls up her spine. They may kill her. She could die.

“The less you move, the easier it’ll be for both of us.” Alden says. She doesn’t move, fearing a needle or something worse digging into her throat.

Alden positions on hand on her back and the other presumably on her wing. He twists and pulls, tearing it right out of its socket.

The pain runs deep, flaring all the way down her arm. She bits her lip, letting only a whimper escape. It’s only when Alden picks up the knife does something shatter within Claire. “No!” She screams, her voice raw and pulled thin with tears. “You can’t do that!”

Alden doesn’t say anything. “No! No no no...no.” Her words cut into pathetic sobs that tear through her throat. Raymond stands there, watching.

Alden presses the knife into Claire’s flesh and everything goes white. Pain filters in, fractured and muted. Her breath comes out in muddled gasps and she feels like everything is too loud.

Something thuds against the floor and she suspects it’s her wing.

(She knows it’s her wing but she can’t bring herself to accept it. If she does, then this is all real.)

Alden and Raymond leave, twin sets of footsteps accompanying them. Claire tests her magic, feeling for her wings. She knows they aren’t there but she had to be certain.

The connection between her wings is gone, broken threads fluttering in the void that used to contain her wings. It’s expansive and devours her in the inky darkness.

Her whole world shatters and all she can do is sob.

A Tail of Impawsible Purrportions Ch 4

Ok, here’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for! Shout out to @cutiepie-tro and @hyenasmurphyslaw for their adorable art of kitties Dakota and Cavendish!

Ch 4: An Encounter

Dakota followed the river upstream, his stomach grumbling. He was growing tired of mice as his main food source. It was time to mix up his diet with something else. 

After all, he had been craving fish lately. 

And he didn’t mind venturing into the countryside to catch something for breakfast. Besides, the stretch of water that cut through the city was terrible for fishing. Too many noisy people, too much competition, too many horses who couldn’t see where they were going and accidentally stepping on some poor kitty’s tail. 

Food and fresh air were always worth the trip. He lifted his nose, smelling the fresh scent of wildflowers and songbirds. It beat the lingering traces of humans everywhere he went. He’d become accustomed to it over time, but occasionally he got that strong whiff from someone who’d never washed a day in their life.  

As Dakota walked alongside the bank, his paws fell into a rhythm. He’d never tap out a good beat like some of the alley cats in town, but it was enough for a casual stroll. 

Jumping onto the bridge, he continued to scat along to his own beat. 

“Come out at once! We haven’t time for games!” 

The voice had a strange accent to Dakota. No alley cat ever spoke so eloquently. Curious, he leapt onto a flowering tree branch and hid among the leaves. 

Another cat wandered below, poking his head into the reeds as he appeared to search for something. His sleek, silver fur reminded Dakota of the moon. And...was that a mustache? He’d never seen any feline with a mustache before. 

Most strangely of all, there was a green collar around his neck. If he belonged to the humans, then what was he doing out here? 

The cat started rooting around the tree Dakota was perched in. He wouldn’t be catching any prey that way. Dakota was almost worried this cat would starve to death. 

Then Dakota noticed the pink blossoms that dotted the end of the branch. Smirking, he carefully placed his paw on the edge and shook it vigorously, sending a cascade of petals onto the unsuspecting cat below. 

He sneezed, his head whipping up to glare furiously into the tree. His light blue eyes seemed to bore into Dakota’s hiding place. 

Dakota was instantly dazzled. He’d never seen eyes like those before. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t realize he’d stretched out for a closer look. He lost his balance, tumbling through the air. He twisted his body so he’d land on all fours, his paws hitting something soft that definitely didn’t feel like grass. 

The cat underneath him squirmed around to glare at him. “Do you mind?” he growled, his ears flicking in irritation. 

“Yo,” Dakota said, scrambling off his back. “You’ll never catch anything that way.” 

The other cat shook himself off, pointedly turning his back to Dakota. “I’m not catching anything.” 

Now that Dakota was closer to this strange fellow, he could smell the lingering scent of human on him. “So, abandoned by your human? Or did you get lost on  a trip? What’s your name, anyway?” 

His questions were met with a lashing tail. “We were not abandoned! And I don’t give out my name to ruffians such as yourself! Furthermore-” He trailed off, as if he had remembered something. “The kittens!” 

“Kittens?” Dakota said in surprise. He never would’ve pegged this cat as a father otherwise. 

“You’re distracting me from my search!” the cat yelled. He kicked a rock in frustration, as if somehow expecting to find a kitten there. 

“How about I help you out?” Dakota suggested. The other cat’s ears flattened. “Look, I’m not stealing or eating them or whatever you pampered upper crusts think alley cats do to kittens.” 

“Fine,” the other cat huffed. “Just this once. My name is Cavendish, and you are?” 

Dakota grinned, even if Cavendish probably didn’t find it too appropriate given the situation. “Dakota. Nice to meet ya.” 

“I’m looking for three kittens,” Cavendish quickly explained, his words brisk and leaving no room for further introduction. “Two toms and a she-cat.” 

They made their way to the riverbank to begin their search. Dakota noticed something shiny and metallic lying partly into the water. It was a strange shape. Almost like a large chicken egg, but there was a seat cut out in the upper portion. Two wheels lay scattered several feet away. 

It obviously belonged to a human. 

“Cavendish!” he called, unable to resist climbing to the top of the strange object. “Check this out!”

Cavendish rushed over, but he was far more interested in the deep groove. “This is Elliot’s,” he said, dumbfounded. “No, that’s ridiculous. He’s not the only one in the city with a sidecar attached to his motorbike.” 

Dakota tilted his head. “Who’s Elliot?” 

“The butler in our mansion. He was terrible at his job. Always going off at us for minor slights,” Cavendish said. “But he’s not important right now.” 

Then Dakota heard a tiny yawn echoing from the sidecar. He jumped down and peered inside. To his surprise, there was a small ginger kitten with a pink collar stretching out, clearly half-asleep. “Found one,” he whispered. Cavendish climbed in, bringing out the kitten, who yawned again. 

“I was having a weird dream,” she said sleepily. “We were bouncing along a bumpy road and there was a lot of screeching.” 

Cavendish bent down, licking the fur on her head. He’d been nothing but cross and irritated earlier, so the gentle and comforting side was completely new. It wasn’t such a bad surprise, Dakota thought. 

Then her eyes popped open. “Who’s that?” she asked, blinking up at Dakota. 

“I’m just a stray who happened to be passing by. Name’s Dakota. Helping your old tom here find some missing kitties,” Dakota said. 

Cavendish’s fur bristled. “I’m not old! And the kittens were all adopted off the streets at different times, so none of us are related!” 

Members of the high class who were willing to take in homeless kittens? He’d never heard that one before. But based on Cavendish’s tone, he wasn’t joking. 

“I’m Melissa, the Alley Cat Queen!” she boasted proudly, puffing her chest out as far as it would go. 

Dakota liked her already. 

“Melissa, what did we learn about boasting?” Cavendish asked sternly. 

Melissa sighed. “A lady does not partake in boasting.” 

Nodding in approval, Cavendish went upstream to find the other kittens. Dakota was about to join him, when he heard pawsteps in the dirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Melissa slowly creeping toward him. He couldn’t help but play along, so he slowed his pace. 

If they had time later, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to show her the proper way to pounce. Her tail was pointed too high for her stalking to be effective. 

Melissa paused, then sprung at Dakota’s side. Then she bounced off his pelt, landing on her back. 

“Not bad,” Dakota said. “But stick around and I can show you how to make it better.” 

Melissa’s eyes sparkled at that. 

They rejoined Cavendish, who was combing through the reeds carefully. “Zack! Milo!” he shouted. “Answer if you can hear me!” 

Dakota checked one of the steeper slopes along the riverbank, in case a kitten had wandered over here and couldn’t be seen through the thick undergrowth. He couldn’t follow a scent trail, since the water likely washed it away. 

Then he noticed a pair of brown eyes gazing fearfully at him. 

“You okay?” Dakota asked, glad that he had been nearby. The river could’ve easily washed him away. 

The kitten stepped out, his black fur damp. He shivered. “No,” he said. “I got tossed out again.” 

“Again?” Dakota echoed, laying down. He invited the kitten over, who quickly curled up next to his fur in a desperate bid for warmth. 

“Yeah. Cavendish said I was tossed out of a carriage. Someone put me in a sack,” he explained. 

Dakota paused, remembering how Marcus had come to the abandoned apartment where many of the city’s alley cats hung out. He was exhausted, having searched the city for any signs of his son, who’d been stuffed into a sack while asleep and taken away. But none of the other cats had seen a black kitten wandering the streets. 

Marcus and Eileen’s human was one of the biggest reasons Dakota disliked people. 

And the kitten’s appearance and story seemed to match Marcus' description of his son and situation.

“Cavendish is looking for you, kit,” Dakota nudged him to his feet. “Come on.” 

“You know him?” the kitten gasped, running ahead of Dakota slightly. “How?” 

“Fell on him,” Dakota winked. 

Cavendish appeared out of the brush, heaving a sigh of relief. “Zack, are you alright? Dakota, where was he?” 

Dakota pointed to the thick clump of reeds. “He must’ve fallen in the water. But he should be fine once the shock wears off.” 

Cavendish was practically smothering Zack while warming him up. Melissa purred and rubbed against both of them. “Where’s Milo?” Zack asked, poking his head out of Cavendish’s fur. 

He took a deep breath. His tail twitched, betraying how worried he was about the last kitten. “Don’t know yet,” he answered. “But we’ll find him.” 

“I’ll find him before you, Zack!” Melissa yowled, suddenly taking off. 

“No, you won’t!” Zack shouted back. They darted towards the stone bridge, each of them trying to beat the other in finding Milo. 

Cavendish’s ears flicked anxiously. 

“Hey, they could use a little tracking practice,” Dakota suggested. “Even if they aren’t so good with stealth yet. But hey, they’ll figure it out eventually.” 

“They shouldn’t have to worry about hunting and tracking,” Cavendish said quietly. “They should’ve been learning the arts. This mess has completely disrupted their schedule.” 

“What kind of arts?” Dakota asked. “Like painting?” 

“For Melissa. Zack is learning to sing while Milo and I play piano,” Cavendish explained as they padded after the kittens. 

“Huh. You’re busier than I thought you’d be,” Dakota said. Alley cats rarely ventured into the affluent part of town. And they never had much interaction with housebound cats beyond an occasional peek into the window. 

Cavendish huffed. “What? We don’t spend all our time in front of the fireplace and eating cream out of golden bowls. Besides, the kittens liven up the house. The Murphys love them.” 

“So if your humans loved them, then why were you all tossed out?” Dakota asked. 

Cavendish paused, his tail drooping. “I’m not sure. One moment we were drinking milk, and the next we wound up here. Call it strange if you want, but I have a feeling they weren’t the ones who brought us here.” 

“All right, I’m calling it strange,” Dakota replied. 

Cavendish stared at him, looking slightly amused. “I didn’t mean literally.” 

“You said if you want, and I wanted to,” Dakota shrugged. 

“You are a very peculiar feline,” Cavendish sighed. 

Dakota grinned at him. “Thanks! It’s good to meet another cat who thinks I’m clawfully interesting. Purrhaps we could do dinner sometime.” 

Cavendish groaned. “Perfect. Just what I need. A cat with a propensity for fancy wordplay.” 

“I try,” Dakota boasted proudly. 

They followed Melissa and Zack back to where the grass wasn’t so high, finding them underneath the bridge. “Milo!” Melissa shouted. 

“Milo! Come on already!” Zack yelled. 

A basket next to them stirred, and a kitten poked his head out. “Hey, guys. What’s going on?” 

Melissa and Zack stared at him, bewildered. 

“Milo, when I call for you, I expect an answer,” Cavendish scolded, though it didn’t hold much weight when he was purring and nuzzling the side of Milo’s head. 

“Sorry,” Milo said, crawling out of the basket. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. “Where are we? And who’s that?” 

“That’s Dakota!” Melissa exclaimed. “He helped find Zack, and he said he’d show me how to pounce!” 

“Cool!” Milo exclaimed, seeming to forget all about being lost. “Can I learn too?” 

“I’d like to learn!” Zack said. 

Cavendish cleared his throat, and everyone quieted down instantly. “There’s no need for that. Once we get home, you won’t even need to rely on that sort of barbaric thing.” 

Dakota couldn’t believe his ears. While he didn’t mind the obvious class divide, there was something extremely stupid about not learning basic survival skills that all alley cats learned from a young age. Heck, even some housebound cats knew how to leap for birds. 

But these clearly didn’t. And if Dakota didn’t speak up now, they would surely starve to death.

“If you wanna get back safely, you’re gonna need someone who knows these streets,” Dakota suggested. “Besides, you can’t rely on humans for food. Can’t rely on them for much actually. Besides, the kittens seem eager. And what mentor would turn down a willing apprentice? Or several apprentices, in this case?” 

Milo jumped up excitedly. “Can Dakota come along? He seems cool!” 

“Please?” Zack begged, his eyes wide. 

“I wanna learn how to hunt! And fish! And pounce!” Melissa exclaimed. 

Cavendish’s eyes flickered between all of them, then over to Dakota. After a long time, he nodded slowly. “I admit, I have reservations about hunting and pouncing and whatnot. But I suppose you have a valid point since we want to make it back unharmed. Very well. You’re our guide from now until we get back home.” 

“Sounds great to me,” Dakota grinned. 

His ears perked, detecting the sounds of several rumbling bellies. 

“But first, we eat.” 

And the Dakavendish begins at last! I guess you can Dakota really FELL for him! 

On a more serious note, Zack’s background is partially inspired by a story my mom told me about a female cat her family had when she was little. She grew up in 1970′s Philippines, so neutering/spaying as we know it today didn’t exist/was unaffordable there anyway. The female cat got pregnant a lot, and whenever the litter was old enough to eat solid food, they were taken away from the mother and killed. 

Since they were poor, I understand they couldn’t afford the extra mouths. But the animal lover side of me was completely horrified that they’d do such a thing. I’ll admit, I don’t fully understand the situation and I probably never will. 

The Clippers Don't Know Who They Are, and That's Awesome

A few weeks ago, I wrote a column that labeled the Memphis Grizzlies as the most intriguing and unknowable team in the NBA. The Los Angeles Clippers have since asked me to hold their beer.

Coming off a year in which they shredded the remnants of an era that successfully buffed out generations of hopelessness, the Clippers head into 2019 with a who’s who ensemble cast that will use irrepressible depth, creativity, and luck in an admirable attempt to make everyone forget about the stars that are now gone.

Similar to Memphis, Los Angeles has respectable role players, youth, experience, and are without an on- or off-court identity. We don’t know how Doc Rivers will shape his rotation, who can play with who and when, or have any idea what their most effective five-man unit will look like. Stylistically and aesthetically, the Clippers (just like the Grizzlies) are a blank slate that allows the imagination to run wild.

But what separates L.A. from Memphis (and every other team in the league) is how fittingly its roster has been assembled to jockey through an exhausting regular season. The Clippers have, at minimum, a dozen competent NBA players. There are scorers who roll out of bed and land on the free-throw line, accommodating table setters, and defensive-minded wings who don’t need the ball. Behind them are three-point marksmen, on-ball bloodhounds, and bigs who take pride in understanding the geometry behind a solid pick. Throw two lottery picks into the mix and what you have is a group that’s most impressive personality trait may be the ability to thrive without any.

On paper, this team has players who excel in a few areas, but, in most cases, they're primarily known (and paid) for their work on one side of the ball. Rivers’s ability to blend dueling skill-sets and allow each individual’s force to protect one of his teammate's flaws will be a year-long challenge. But if everything falls into a complementary rhythm, the payoff can be huge. (Imagine having to score against Avery Bradley, Patrick Beverley, Luc Richard Mbah a Moute, and Montrezl Harrell in one quarter, and then trying to stop Danilo Gallinari, Lou Williams, and Tobias Harris the next. Or just mixing all those parts together with enough space, athleticism, and dirt to make everything work.) Each position has a safety net. The bench should flood opposing second units with individual bucket-getters, versatile defenders, willing passers, three-point weaponry, and, above all else, cogs who stay in their lane while executing their strengths.

All this analysis is very glass-half-full. Some of Los Angeles’s most accomplished names enter next season still needing to prove they can stay on the court. Gallinari is coming off a 21-game season, and missed 58.1 percent of his possible starts over the previous three years; Bradley only appeared in six games after the Clippers traded for him in late January; Beverley is cleared for training camp but had arthroscopic knee surgery last November; and the last time we saw Mbah a Moute play basketball his shoulder prevented him from making layups. Milos Teodosic—who was perpetually gimpy throughout his rookie season—and a 34-year-old Marcin Gortat are ambiguous commodities.

But past health issues aside, this team is new and hungry. Typically, having several players enter the final year of their contract at the same time is detrimental, particularly with minutes at a premium. But injecting a dog-eat-dog mentality into a team that's ostensibly lottery bound could work. Aside from Gallo, Williams, Harrell (whose two-year, $12 million contract is a strong contender for “best value in the league”), Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, and Jerome Robinson, everybody else can be a free agent next summer. (Bradley’s contract is partially guaranteed.)

And that, naturally, leads us from the court to the cap sheet, which sparkles sans any harsh restrictions. Free agency is the long-term play for a franchise that—until further notice—has chosen to follow the pre-James Harden, post-Tracy McGrady/Yao Ming Houston Rockets model, where going from the middle to the top without using the lottery as a crutch is the task at hand.

That strategy almost requires fortuitous timing, impressive assets, and a front office that can be potent and lean at the same time by identifying then pouncing upon market inefficiencies. It’s unclear if the Clippers have their ducks in a row, but it may not matter. They’re backed by extremely wealthy and engaged ownership, with the lure of Southern California as an appealing backdrop. Those factors, and how they feed into next summer’s free agency bonanza, make it easy to view this year’s team as nothing more than a bridge to the shiny, star-laden tomorrow everyone in the organization is hoping for. And it's hard to blame them.

Anything is possible in L.A., where Steve Ballmer, Rivers, and Jerry West can enter 2019 pitch meetings with enough cap space to afford two max contracts. If, say, Kevin Durant and Kyrie Irving want to play together for a title contender that’s powerful and popular enough to immediately rival and eventually overshadow LeBron’s Lakers, the Clippers can stretch Gallo’s contract and clear enough room to make it realistic. Kawhi Leonard, Jimmy Butler, Klay Thompson, and a few more notable names will also be in play.

Until then, the Clippers have more immediate financial concerns. By matching New Orleans’s offer sheet for Tyrone Wallace (who’s a right-handed southpaw) this week, they guaranteed 17 contracts, which means two players have to go before opening night. Jawun Evans and Sindarius Thornwell seem like obvious candidates, but both are under L.A.’s control at a low cost over the next two years. For a team that wants to spend big next summer and beyond, that matters. At least one of them is gone, but don’t fall off your chair if Wesley Johnson is the other odd man out.

Those are ultimately marginal decisions for an organization that wants to sustain its relevance beyond Chris Paul, Blake Griffin, and DeAndre Jordan. Daryl Morey has never fallen below .500 as Houston’s GM, which includes three seasons of wandering in the wilderness without an All-Star. He ultimately landed Harden with one of the shrewdest trades in league history. The Clippers are on that path, betting large on their infrastructure and environmental surroundings to catapult them even higher than that aforementioned Big 3 ever could.

In the meantime, the gap between their best and worst-case scenario in 2019 is murky. The playoffs aren’t impossible, but they aren't likely, either—with their own draft pick headed to the Boston Celtics if it lands 15th or higher, who’s to say the Clippers won’t sell off a veteran at the trade deadline to ensure a spot in the lottery? They don't have any All-Stars and even with capable backups ready to step up at every position, having a starter or two (or three) who can't stay healthy is never a good thing. The Western Conference is a pack of angry Goliaths.

But nobody who will play decent minutes for this team is bad. That's rare and valuable, and may give them a slight, necessary advantage against top-heavy opposition that stumbles at the start of every second and fourth quarter. This is about to be a culture-free season, where the scariest part about matching up against the Clippers is not even they know exactly what they are.

The Clippers Don't Know Who They Are, and That's Awesome published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

The Clippers Don’t Know Who They Are, and That’s Awesome

A few weeks ago, I wrote a column that labeled the Memphis Grizzlies as the most intriguing and unknowable team in the NBA. The Los Angeles Clippers have since asked me to hold their beer.

Coming off a year in which they shredded the remnants of an era that successfully buffed out generations of hopelessness, the Clippers head into 2019 with a who’s who ensemble cast that will use irrepressible depth, creativity, and luck in an admirable attempt to make everyone forget about the stars that are now gone.

Similar to Memphis, Los Angeles has respectable role players, youth, experience, and are without an on- or off-court identity. We don’t know how Doc Rivers will shape his rotation, who can play with who and when, or have any idea what their most effective five-man unit will look like. Stylistically and aesthetically, the Clippers (just like the Grizzlies) are a blank slate that allows the imagination to run wild.

But what separates L.A. from Memphis (and every other team in the league) is how fittingly its roster has been assembled to jockey through an exhausting regular season. The Clippers have, at minimum, a dozen competent NBA players. There are scorers who roll out of bed and land on the free-throw line, accommodating table setters, and defensive-minded wings who don’t need the ball. Behind them are three-point marksmen, on-ball bloodhounds, and bigs who take pride in understanding the geometry behind a solid pick. Throw two lottery picks into the mix and what you have is a group that’s most impressive personality trait may be the ability to thrive without any.

On paper, this team has players who excel in a few areas, but, in most cases, they’re primarily known (and paid) for their work on one side of the ball. Rivers’s ability to blend dueling skill-sets and allow each individual’s force to protect one of his teammate’s flaws will be a year-long challenge. But if everything falls into a complementary rhythm, the payoff can be huge. (Imagine having to score against Avery Bradley, Patrick Beverley, Luc Richard Mbah a Moute, and Montrezl Harrell in one quarter, and then trying to stop Danilo Gallinari, Lou Williams, and Tobias Harris the next. Or just mixing all those parts together with enough space, athleticism, and dirt to make everything work.) Each position has a safety net. The bench should flood opposing second units with individual bucket-getters, versatile defenders, willing passers, three-point weaponry, and, above all else, cogs who stay in their lane while executing their strengths.

All this analysis is very glass-half-full. Some of Los Angeles’s most accomplished names enter next season still needing to prove they can stay on the court. Gallinari is coming off a 21-game season, and missed 58.1 percent of his possible starts over the previous three years; Bradley only appeared in six games after the Clippers traded for him in late January; Beverley is cleared for training camp but had arthroscopic knee surgery last November; and the last time we saw Mbah a Moute play basketball his shoulder prevented him from making layups. Milos Teodosic—who was perpetually gimpy throughout his rookie season—and a 34-year-old Marcin Gortat are ambiguous commodities.

But past health issues aside, this team is new and hungry. Typically, having several players enter the final year of their contract at the same time is detrimental, particularly with minutes at a premium. But injecting a dog-eat-dog mentality into a team that’s ostensibly lottery bound could work. Aside from Gallo, Williams, Harrell (whose two-year, $12 million contract is a strong contender for “best value in the league”), Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, and Jerome Robinson, everybody else can be a free agent next summer. (Bradley’s contract is partially guaranteed.)

And that, naturally, leads us from the court to the cap sheet, which sparkles sans any harsh restrictions. Free agency is the long-term play for a franchise that—until further notice—has chosen to follow the pre-James Harden, post-Tracy McGrady/Yao Ming Houston Rockets model, where going from the middle to the top without using the lottery as a crutch is the task at hand.

That strategy almost requires fortuitous timing, impressive assets, and a front office that can be potent and lean at the same time by identifying then pouncing upon market inefficiencies. It’s unclear if the Clippers have their ducks in a row, but it may not matter. They’re backed by extremely wealthy and engaged ownership, with the lure of Southern California as an appealing backdrop. Those factors, and how they feed into next summer’s free agency bonanza, make it easy to view this year’s team as nothing more than a bridge to the shiny, star-laden tomorrow everyone in the organization is hoping for. And it’s hard to blame them.

Anything is possible in L.A., where Steve Ballmer, Rivers, and Jerry West can enter 2019 pitch meetings with enough cap space to afford two max contracts. If, say, Kevin Durant and Kyrie Irving want to play together for a title contender that’s powerful and popular enough to immediately rival and eventually overshadow LeBron’s Lakers, the Clippers can stretch Gallo’s contract and clear enough room to make it realistic. Kawhi Leonard, Jimmy Butler, Klay Thompson, and a few more notable names will also be in play.

Until then, the Clippers have more immediate financial concerns. By matching New Orleans’s offer sheet for Tyrone Wallace (who’s a right-handed southpaw) this week, they guaranteed 17 contracts, which means two players have to go before opening night. Jawun Evans and Sindarius Thornwell seem like obvious candidates, but both are under L.A.’s control at a low cost over the next two years. For a team that wants to spend big next summer and beyond, that matters. At least one of them is gone, but don’t fall off your chair if Wesley Johnson is the other odd man out.

Those are ultimately marginal decisions for an organization that wants to sustain its relevance beyond Chris Paul, Blake Griffin, and DeAndre Jordan. Daryl Morey has never fallen below .500 as Houston’s GM, which includes three seasons of wandering in the wilderness without an All-Star. He ultimately landed Harden with one of the shrewdest trades in league history. The Clippers are on that path, betting large on their infrastructure and environmental surroundings to catapult them even higher than that aforementioned Big 3 ever could.

In the meantime, the gap between their best and worst-case scenario in 2019 is murky. The playoffs aren’t impossible, but they aren’t likely, either—with their own draft pick headed to the Boston Celtics if it lands 15th or higher, who’s to say the Clippers won’t sell off a veteran at the trade deadline to ensure a spot in the lottery? They don’t have any All-Stars and even with capable backups ready to step up at every position, having a starter or two (or three) who can’t stay healthy is never a good thing. The Western Conference is a pack of angry Goliaths.

But nobody who will play decent minutes for this team is bad. That’s rare and valuable, and may give them a slight, necessary advantage against top-heavy opposition that stumbles at the start of every second and fourth quarter. This is about to be a culture-free season, where the scariest part about matching up against the Clippers is not even they know exactly what they are.

The Clippers Don’t Know Who They Are, and That’s Awesome syndicated from https://australiahoverboards.wordpress.com

Latest story from https://movietvtechgeeks.com/roger-federer-takes-9th-halle-title-zverev-win/

Roger Federer takes 9th Halle Title with Zverev win

Wimbledon will be really exciting if Roger Federer continues playing like he did to win his ninth Halle title in just 53 minutes on Sunday. Roger Federer defeated Germany's Alexander Zverev 6-1, 6-3 to win the Gerry Weber Open for a record ninth time on Sunday. The bare numbers hardly tell the tale: 6-1, 6-3 to Federer, 58 points to 33 overall, winning 79% of his service points, 52% when receiving. He was razor sharp at the net, solid at the back, ruthless in the finish. Playing in his 140th career final, Federer saved the only break point he faced and converted four of his eight opportunities to clinch his 92nd career title in 53 minutes. At 35, the Swiss player became the oldest winner of the grass-court tournament. "I played unbelievably well. I felt good and never let up," said Federer, who dropped just nine points on his serve. "It was my best game this week. Nearly everything worked out for me." Federer, who skipped the clay-court season after winning the Miami Open in early April, claimed his fourth title of the year, matching Rafael Nadal's tally, and he will be seeded ahead of his Spanish rival for Wimbledon, which starts in eight days. Federer had already won the Australian Open before titles in Indian Wells and Miami in 2017. The 18-time Grand Slam champion was surprised by German veteran Tommy Haas on his return from the two-month break last week in Stuttgart but brushed off any doubts over his form in Halle. Against the 20-year-old Zverev, who lost last year's final to Florian Mayer, Federer raced to a 4-0 lead before wrapping up the first set in 22 minutes. Zverev created his only break chance in the opening game of the second but ultimately was unable to show why he is regarded as one of the sport's brightest prospects. "You could have been a bit nicer and allowed me a couple more points," Zverev joked to his idol. Federer had words of affection for Zverev, who won their semifinal in Halle last year. "He's a very nice lad. I'm very happy for him, how he's developed in the last years. The future belongs to him," Federer said. There was hardly an area of the game Federer did not dominate for extended periods, although the rallies rarely went longer than a few shots. Zverev, who had been so impressive all week, rushed his counters, botched several winners and at no point was really in the contest. This was a statement match for both of them, brought together for a third time at opposite ends of their careers. The 20-year-old German wears his hair fashionably long; the 35-year-old Swiss recently had a serious short back and sides, reaching for the look of youth, perhaps. Inside a minute, Federer broke Zverev to love: the tennis equivalent of Anthony Joshua knocking out a young contender with the first punch of the fight. Zverev, who had lost his first eight matches against top‑10 players then beaten seven of the next 11 – including Federer in the semi-finals here last year – encountered the Swiss on one of his magical days. He was 0-3 down after 10 minutes. Twenty minutes in, Federer had three set points. Zverev hit long. Embarrassment loomed. Federer gifted him a break with a sloppy forehand but quickly repaired the damage. In the final point of the third game of the second set, Zverev hunted down one of Federer’s many drop shots, slid under the net and jarred his left ankle. The old man in the bandana gave him a consoling pat on the back then resumed his systematic beating. A final, imperious backhand volley put Zverev out of his agony. He took his licks graciously but, if it was a street fight, someone would have called the police. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to win this tournament again,” Federer said in English courtside. “So I’m just going to enjoy it as much as I can.” He had to be kidding. Having watched Rafael Nadal compile La Décima three times on clay this summer, Federer will strain every sinew to post just one on the grass of Halle. He might even get an eighth title on the grass of Wimbledon and then can start dreaming anew. Marin Cilic and Feliciano Lopez recovered from having their serves broken for the first time this week to secure returns to the final of the Queen's grass-court tournament on Saturday. Cilic, the 2012 champion, ended Gilles Muller's seven-match winning run on grass with a 6-3, 5-7, 6-4 victory in the first semifinal. Lopez then gained a measure of revenge for his loss to Grigor Dimitrov in the 2014 final by beating the Bulgarian 7-5, 3-6, 6-2 in a hard-fought contest that was delayed mid-match by the first bout of heavy rain this week. It's not the title match many would have predicted at the start of the week, with Andy Murray, Stan Wawrinka, and Milos Raonic - the top three seeded players - all getting eliminated in the first round. But it still contains two strong grass-court players who will be gaining plenty of confidence heading into Wimbledon, which starts on July 3. "I am so happy to be in the final; it's one of the most special tournaments for me. I have wanted to win this tournament so bad," said No. 32-ranked Lopez, who expressed delight that Cilic was playing in a semifinal of the doubles on Saturday evening. That was suspended near the end of the second set, with Cilic and Marcin Matkowski leading 6-1, 3-5 against Jamie Murray and Bruno Soares. That match will conclude after the singles final on Sunday. Cilic is bidding to become the first man since Pete Sampras in 1995 to win the singles and doubles titles at one Queen's. The fourth-seeded Cilic certainly looks the fresher after four singles matches this week, with Lopez initially appearing jaded against Dimitrov following his tough three-set win over Tomas Berdych in the quarterfinals. Lopez remained rooted in his seat, head in his hands, after clinching victory on Centre Court. It took nearly nine sets this week for Lopez to lose his serve, helping Dimitrov take the semifinal to a deciding set. The left-handed Spaniard pounced on Dimitrov's sudden weakness on his topspin backhand, wasting six break-point opportunities in the 10th game but succeeding in the sixth game when the sixth-seeded Dimitrov volleyed into the net. "We had a great battle in the 2014 final, so I knew it would be tough," said Lopez, referring to a match that featured three tiebreakers. "I was playing some of the best tennis of the whole week," he added. Cilic is guaranteed to be at least No. 6 in the rankings, which is a career high, after dealing Muller a first loss of the grass-court season following the left-hander's title win in Netherlands last week. Cilic sent a backhand down the line to clinch the sixth game of the match and the only break of the first set. His serve remained dominant until the final game of the second set when he went 0-40 and was broken on the second set point. It proved to be a momentary lapse, as Cilic regained control and converted his second match point when he fired down a second-serve ace. "Today's match was an extremely high level," Cilic said. "I was playing really, really good throughout and Gilles was pushing me to the limit. I was mixing it up really well and just playing really smart in some critical points." Cilic, a former U.S. Open champion, looks like being a danger at Wimbledon, where he has reached the quarterfinals in the past three years. Two-time Wimbledon champion Petra Kvitova beat Lucie Safarova in the Aegon Classic semifinals on Saturday to reach the first final since her playing hand was injured in a knife attack at her home. This is Kvitova's first grass-court final since her triumph at 2014 Wimbledon, though this significant achievement was tinged with anti-climax as Safarova quit with a right thigh strain after only eight games. Kvitova was leading 6-1, 1-0. Nevertheless, Kvitova hit her groundstrokes with pace and accuracy, especially from the forehand side. In the final, the Czech leftie will play Ashleigh Barty, an Australian who was impressive in containing former French Open champion Garbine Muguruza 3-6, 6-4, 6-2. Whatever happens, Kvitova was already delighted with her progress. "The hand is good, which is the best news I could have," she said. "I am not feeling any pain." Remarkably, she's playing only her second tournament and only her sixth match since she was attacked in December. Asked if the comeback had gone better than expected, she replied: "Yes. I could not have imagined a better comeback." But she remained reluctant to agree that she was now one of the players who could win Wimbledon. Her win had a hint of inevitability from the start, for she had prevailed in all nine previous encounters against Safarova, a former world No. 5. Kvitova captured 14 of the first 15 points and the first five games. After losing her service game at the start of the second set, Safarova shook hands and departed. She had been suffering from exhaustion as well as a thigh strain, having played two monster matches in her previous three wins. "I am sorry for Lucie and hope she soon gets a bit better, but I love playing finals," Kvitova said. "I like big matches, and I've missed it over the last six months. So this is quite a dream." She will go for her 20th career title in her 27th final. Barty was ranked at 271 at the start of the year, won her first career title in March in Kuala Lumpur, and has become the first Aussie finalist here in 25 years. From the moment she broke serve for 3-2 and consolidated for 4-2 in the second set, it was clear Barty had a formula which had a good chance of working. She sliced the ball hard, kept it wide and low, and denied Muguruza chances to develop pace and rhythm with her elegant groundstrokes. Given a glimmer of a chance to counterattack with rolling forehands, Barty always took it, and more often than not hit her targets. Muguruza called for her coach, sought to swing the ball around, and eventually just tried to scrap as best she could. But Barty gained adrenaline and self-belief from her second set success, and five games in a row from 0-1 in the final set effectively decided the outcome. "I will keep playing this way, and I know that sooner or later I will get the chance of getting another trophy," said Muguruza, for whom this tournament has been mental rehab after her title-losing trauma in Paris two weeks ago. Barty was ebullient. "I executed exactly the way I wanted to," she said. "I like slicing it around on the grass, and I didn't do much wrong."

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The Clippers Don't Know Who They Are, and That's Awesome

A few weeks ago, I wrote a column that labeled the Memphis Grizzlies as the most intriguing and unknowable team in the NBA. The Los Angeles Clippers have since asked me to hold their beer.

Coming off a year in which they shredded the remnants of an era that successfully buffed out generations of hopelessness, the Clippers head into 2019 with a who’s who ensemble cast that will use irrepressible depth, creativity, and luck in an admirable attempt to make everyone forget about the stars that are now gone.

Similar to Memphis, Los Angeles has respectable role players, youth, experience, and are without an on- or off-court identity. We don’t know how Doc Rivers will shape his rotation, who can play with who and when, or have any idea what their most effective five-man unit will look like. Stylistically and aesthetically, the Clippers (just like the Grizzlies) are a blank slate that allows the imagination to run wild.

But what separates L.A. from Memphis (and every other team in the league) is how fittingly its roster has been assembled to jockey through an exhausting regular season. The Clippers have, at minimum, a dozen competent NBA players. There are scorers who roll out of bed and land on the free-throw line, accommodating table setters, and defensive-minded wings who don’t need the ball. Behind them are three-point marksmen, on-ball bloodhounds, and bigs who take pride in understanding the geometry behind a solid pick. Throw two lottery picks into the mix and what you have is a group that’s most impressive personality trait may be the ability to thrive without any.

On paper, this team has players who excel in a few areas, but, in most cases, they're primarily known (and paid) for their work on one side of the ball. Rivers’s ability to blend dueling skill-sets and allow each individual’s force to protect one of his teammate's flaws will be a year-long challenge. But if everything falls into a complementary rhythm, the payoff can be huge. (Imagine having to score against Avery Bradley, Patrick Beverley, Luc Richard Mbah a Moute, and Montrezl Harrell in one quarter, and then trying to stop Danilo Gallinari, Lou Williams, and Tobias Harris the next. Or just mixing all those parts together with enough space, athleticism, and dirt to make everything work.) Each position has a safety net. The bench should flood opposing second units with individual bucket-getters, versatile defenders, willing passers, three-point weaponry, and, above all else, cogs who stay in their lane while executing their strengths.

All this analysis is very glass-half-full. Some of Los Angeles’s most accomplished names enter next season still needing to prove they can stay on the court. Gallinari is coming off a 21-game season, and missed 58.1 percent of his possible starts over the previous three years; Bradley only appeared in six games after the Clippers traded for him in late January; Beverley is cleared for training camp but had arthroscopic knee surgery last November; and the last time we saw Mbah a Moute play basketball his shoulder prevented him from making layups. Milos Teodosic—who was perpetually gimpy throughout his rookie season—and a 34-year-old Marcin Gortat are ambiguous commodities.

But past health issues aside, this team is new and hungry. Typically, having several players enter the final year of their contract at the same time is detrimental, particularly with minutes at a premium. But injecting a dog-eat-dog mentality into a team that's ostensibly lottery bound could work. Aside from Gallo, Williams, Harrell (whose two-year, $12 million contract is a strong contender for “best value in the league”), Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, and Jerome Robinson, everybody else can be a free agent next summer. (Bradley’s contract is partially guaranteed.)

And that, naturally, leads us from the court to the cap sheet, which sparkles sans any harsh restrictions. Free agency is the long-term play for a franchise that—until further notice—has chosen to follow the pre-James Harden, post-Tracy McGrady/Yao Ming Houston Rockets model, where going from the middle to the top without using the lottery as a crutch is the task at hand.

That strategy almost requires fortuitous timing, impressive assets, and a front office that can be potent and lean at the same time by identifying then pouncing upon market inefficiencies. It’s unclear if the Clippers have their ducks in a row, but it may not matter. They’re backed by extremely wealthy and engaged ownership, with the lure of Southern California as an appealing backdrop. Those factors, and how they feed into next summer’s free agency bonanza, make it easy to view this year’s team as nothing more than a bridge to the shiny, star-laden tomorrow everyone in the organization is hoping for. And it's hard to blame them.

Anything is possible in L.A., where Steve Ballmer, Rivers, and Jerry West can enter 2019 pitch meetings with enough cap space to afford two max contracts. If, say, Kevin Durant and Kyrie Irving want to play together for a title contender that’s powerful and popular enough to immediately rival and eventually overshadow LeBron’s Lakers, the Clippers can stretch Gallo’s contract and clear enough room to make it realistic. Kawhi Leonard, Jimmy Butler, Klay Thompson, and a few more notable names will also be in play.

Until then, the Clippers have more immediate financial concerns. By matching New Orleans’s offer sheet for Tyrone Wallace (who’s a right-handed southpaw) this week, they guaranteed 17 contracts, which means two players have to go before opening night. Jawun Evans and Sindarius Thornwell seem like obvious candidates, but both are under L.A.’s control at a low cost over the next two years. For a team that wants to spend big next summer and beyond, that matters. At least one of them is gone, but don’t fall off your chair if Wesley Johnson is the other odd man out.

Those are ultimately marginal decisions for an organization that wants to sustain its relevance beyond Chris Paul, Blake Griffin, and DeAndre Jordan. Daryl Morey has never fallen below .500 as Houston’s GM, which includes three seasons of wandering in the wilderness without an All-Star. He ultimately landed Harden with one of the shrewdest trades in league history. The Clippers are on that path, betting large on their infrastructure and environmental surroundings to catapult them even higher than that aforementioned Big 3 ever could.

In the meantime, the gap between their best and worst-case scenario in 2019 is murky. The playoffs aren’t impossible, but they aren't likely, either—with their own draft pick headed to the Boston Celtics if it lands 15th or higher, who’s to say the Clippers won’t sell off a veteran at the trade deadline to ensure a spot in the lottery? They don't have any All-Stars and even with capable backups ready to step up at every position, having a starter or two (or three) who can't stay healthy is never a good thing. The Western Conference is a pack of angry Goliaths.

But nobody who will play decent minutes for this team is bad. That's rare and valuable, and may give them a slight, necessary advantage against top-heavy opposition that stumbles at the start of every second and fourth quarter. This is about to be a culture-free season, where the scariest part about matching up against the Clippers is not even they know exactly what they are.

The Clippers Don't Know Who They Are, and That's Awesome published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/

The Clippers Don't Know Who They Are, and That's Awesome

A few weeks ago, I wrote a column that labeled the Memphis Grizzlies as the most intriguing and unknowable team in the NBA. The Los Angeles Clippers have since asked me to hold their beer.

Coming off a year in which they shredded the remnants of an era that successfully buffed out generations of hopelessness, the Clippers head into 2019 with a who’s who ensemble cast that will use irrepressible depth, creativity, and luck in an admirable attempt to make everyone forget about the stars that are now gone.

Similar to Memphis, Los Angeles has respectable role players, youth, experience, and are without an on- or off-court identity. We don’t know how Doc Rivers will shape his rotation, who can play with who and when, or have any idea what their most effective five-man unit will look like. Stylistically and aesthetically, the Clippers (just like the Grizzlies) are a blank slate that allows the imagination to run wild.

But what separates L.A. from Memphis (and every other team in the league) is how fittingly its roster has been assembled to jockey through an exhausting regular season. The Clippers have, at minimum, a dozen competent NBA players. There are scorers who roll out of bed and land on the free-throw line, accommodating table setters, and defensive-minded wings who don’t need the ball. Behind them are three-point marksmen, on-ball bloodhounds, and bigs who take pride in understanding the geometry behind a solid pick. Throw two lottery picks into the mix and what you have is a group that’s most impressive personality trait may be the ability to thrive without any.

On paper, this team has players who excel in a few areas, but, in most cases, they're primarily known (and paid) for their work on one side of the ball. Rivers’s ability to blend dueling skill-sets and allow each individual’s force to protect one of his teammate's flaws will be a year-long challenge. But if everything falls into a complementary rhythm, the payoff can be huge. (Imagine having to score against Avery Bradley, Patrick Beverley, Luc Richard Mbah a Moute, and Montrezl Harrell in one quarter, and then trying to stop Danilo Gallinari, Lou Williams, and Tobias Harris the next. Or just mixing all those parts together with enough space, athleticism, and dirt to make everything work.) Each position has a safety net. The bench should flood opposing second units with individual bucket-getters, versatile defenders, willing passers, three-point weaponry, and, above all else, cogs who stay in their lane while executing their strengths.

All this analysis is very glass-half-full. Some of Los Angeles’s most accomplished names enter next season still needing to prove they can stay on the court. Gallinari is coming off a 21-game season, and missed 58.1 percent of his possible starts over the previous three years; Bradley only appeared in six games after the Clippers traded for him in late January; Beverley is cleared for training camp but had arthroscopic knee surgery last November; and the last time we saw Mbah a Moute play basketball his shoulder prevented him from making layups. Milos Teodosic—who was perpetually gimpy throughout his rookie season—and a 34-year-old Marcin Gortat are ambiguous commodities.

But past health issues aside, this team is new and hungry. Typically, having several players enter the final year of their contract at the same time is detrimental, particularly with minutes at a premium. But injecting a dog-eat-dog mentality into a team that's ostensibly lottery bound could work. Aside from Gallo, Williams, Harrell (whose two-year, $12 million contract is a strong contender for “best value in the league”), Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, and Jerome Robinson, everybody else can be a free agent next summer. (Bradley’s contract is partially guaranteed.)

And that, naturally, leads us from the court to the cap sheet, which sparkles sans any harsh restrictions. Free agency is the long-term play for a franchise that—until further notice—has chosen to follow the pre-James Harden, post-Tracy McGrady/Yao Ming Houston Rockets model, where going from the middle to the top without using the lottery as a crutch is the task at hand.

That strategy almost requires fortuitous timing, impressive assets, and a front office that can be potent and lean at the same time by identifying then pouncing upon market inefficiencies. It’s unclear if the Clippers have their ducks in a row, but it may not matter. They’re backed by extremely wealthy and engaged ownership, with the lure of Southern California as an appealing backdrop. Those factors, and how they feed into next summer’s free agency bonanza, make it easy to view this year’s team as nothing more than a bridge to the shiny, star-laden tomorrow everyone in the organization is hoping for. And it's hard to blame them.

Anything is possible in L.A., where Steve Ballmer, Rivers, and Jerry West can enter 2019 pitch meetings with enough cap space to afford two max contracts. If, say, Kevin Durant and Kyrie Irving want to play together for a title contender that’s powerful and popular enough to immediately rival and eventually overshadow LeBron’s Lakers, the Clippers can stretch Gallo’s contract and clear enough room to make it realistic. Kawhi Leonard, Jimmy Butler, Klay Thompson, and a few more notable names will also be in play.

Until then, the Clippers have more immediate financial concerns. By matching New Orleans’s offer sheet for Tyrone Wallace (who’s a right-handed southpaw) this week, they guaranteed 17 contracts, which means two players have to go before opening night. Jawun Evans and Sindarius Thornwell seem like obvious candidates, but both are under L.A.’s control at a low cost over the next two years. For a team that wants to spend big next summer and beyond, that matters. At least one of them is gone, but don’t fall off your chair if Wesley Johnson is the other odd man out.

Those are ultimately marginal decisions for an organization that wants to sustain its relevance beyond Chris Paul, Blake Griffin, and DeAndre Jordan. Daryl Morey has never fallen below .500 as Houston’s GM, which includes three seasons of wandering in the wilderness without an All-Star. He ultimately landed Harden with one of the shrewdest trades in league history. The Clippers are on that path, betting large on their infrastructure and environmental surroundings to catapult them even higher than that aforementioned Big 3 ever could.

In the meantime, the gap between their best and worst-case scenario in 2019 is murky. The playoffs aren’t impossible, but they aren't likely, either—with their own draft pick headed to the Boston Celtics if it lands 15th or higher, who’s to say the Clippers won’t sell off a veteran at the trade deadline to ensure a spot in the lottery? They don't have any All-Stars and even with capable backups ready to step up at every position, having a starter or two (or three) who can't stay healthy is never a good thing. The Western Conference is a pack of angry Goliaths.

But nobody who will play decent minutes for this team is bad. That's rare and valuable, and may give them a slight, necessary advantage against top-heavy opposition that stumbles at the start of every second and fourth quarter. This is about to be a culture-free season, where the scariest part about matching up against the Clippers is not even they know exactly what they are.

The Clippers Don't Know Who They Are, and That's Awesome published first on https://footballhighlightseurope.tumblr.com/