For those of you who may follow the ABA, this is a parody on the league by Chuck Miller. Chuck is a regular poster(as am I) at www.oursportscentral.com and one of the country's leading experts on minor league basketball. With the exception of the Frost Heaves and some other organizations in the league, the ABA is a bit of a disaster. Here is Chuck's view on the league in a HYSTERICAL manner.
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for professional basketball in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, wrote the thirteen rules that became professional basketball. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of underprivileged who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of working for the Globetrotters.
But one hundred years later, the basketball player still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the basketball player is still sadly crippled by the manacles of unethical and immoral leagues like the CBA and the Premiere Basketball League, and the chains of discrimination from the NBA D-League and the USBL. One hundred years later, the hoopster plays in front of a driveway hoop in the middle of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the hoopster is still honing his skills at Pop-A-Shot at the local mall, and finds himself an exile in his own . So we have come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we have come to our nation's capital to cash a check. Made out for $10,000, and made payable to ABA Properties, LLC. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent rules of basketball, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all owners, yes black men as well as white men, but most importantly black men, Hispanics, women, Hispanic women, etc., would be guaranteed the unalienable rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of fan-friendly basketball at affordable prices.
Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to Hammond, go back to Toledo, go back to Nashville, go back to Brooklyn, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.
I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day our league will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We are better than any professional basketball league in the world. All leagues are created equal - but the ABA is created more equal than anyone else."
I have a dream that one day on the Finger Lakes of New York, the immigrant owners of the Rochester Razorsharks will come back to me and say, "Mr. Newman, we are sorry for causing you such grief, please accept our humble apologies and this check for $100,000 for your trouble."
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, the Mississippi Miracles will be transformed into a championship squad as soon as they actually play a playoff contest.
I have a dream that my little children and grandchildren will one day live in a nation where they won't have to go on OSC and hear anybody say nasty horrible things about their father and grandfather, and that they will not be judged by the spelling of their surname but by the content of their wallets.
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day, down in Arkansas, that the RimRockers will leave that demon-scum NBA-financed minor league, and come to me and say, "Mr. Newman, sir, we made a horrible mistake, we'll come back and work with that America's Next Top Model contestant and build a team that will outdraw anybody else in the state of Arkansas, and here's an extra $200,000 for our franchise fees that we didn't pay for the past two years."
I have a dream today.
I have a dream that one day every valley shall have an ABA team, every hill and mountain shall support our red-white-and-blue message, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of me shall be revealed, and all hoopsters shall see it together.
This is our hope. This is the faith that I go back to Indianapolis with. With this we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope, and provide fan-friendly entertainment at affordable prices. With this faith we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into such money-making ventures as Starz In Motion, DBands, a Red White and Blue concert, an ABA reality series, and a new line of ABA dried meats, available at your local Costco or Wal-Mart. With this faith we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to donate all your money to me together, knowing that we will own the world of basketball one day.
This will be the day when all of God's children will be able to sing with a new meaning, "My hoops league 'tis of thee, sweet land of subsidy, of thee I sing. Land where the Hardhats died, land where the Champions got fried, from every mountainside, let freedom ring."
And if America is to be a great nation this must become true. So let freedom ring from the crappy springtime roads of Vermont. Let freedom ring from the godawful stench that is New York. Let freedom ring from the wherever the hell Beijing is playing these days!
Let freedom ring from the Molson-tainted rivers of Quebec!
Let freedom ring from the STD-infected populace of Maryland!
But not only that; let freedom ring from the home of the Anderson Champions!!
Let freedom ring from the wham bam thank you ma'am of Bellingham Slam!
And when this happens, When we allow freedom to ring, when we take the money from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to spend it all up that day when all you suckers, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, "Check has cashed! Check has cashed! thank God Almighty, the Check has cashed!"