2003 was a strange time for the NBA. It was post-Jordan, getting its feet underneath themselves. LA was going on a run, and the Detroit Pistons would draft Darko Milicic who would end up being a total failure for them, averaging 1.6 PPG over the next four seasons. He did, however own a championship ring. In fact, I remember most of that night the Pistons won the championship. I remember everything leading up to being chased by a savage brute from the lonely bar I was attending, then I woke up in a gazebo in a park in a town I didn’t live in.
Only in the NBA can you be awful and still play for ten years and make upwards of 100 million bucks.
Now here we are, and Darko still sucks. This is his pro kickboxing debut.
