by Maurice Bobb / @reesereport
It gets no better than NBA All-Star weekend for the SLAM crew. I’m assuming the way we feel about this holy grail of basketball events is the equivalent of how women feel about their event of events: weddings.
So, in keeping with the wedding analogy, if the All Star game is the wedding day, All-Star Saturday Night is the bachelor party. And traditionally, it’s the Sprite Slam Dunk contest that is the arbitor of whether or not the night was so ridiculous you were sharing recaps of it with total strangers or if you were left asking yourself: I blew off V-Day with my girl for this?
So to all the fellas in SLAM land who threw their significant other the Heisman to be in the building last night, I feel for you because she officially doesn’t understand now after that snoozer of a show.
The League should really check all four contestants for Performance De–hancing Drugs, especially Gerald Wallace, who might as well have dunked with his walker.
Nate Robinson dropped the Kryto-Nate moniker and kept things simple on his way to an unprecedented third Dunk Contest title, but I’m guessing he won’t be bragging on this W considering it was the equivalent of being the skinniest kid at Fat Camp.
Needless to say, I left American Airlines Arena as deflated as Charles Barkley’s hops. Ben, Lang, Nima and I then headed over to the Jordan Brand 23/25 Energy Space Lounge, existing in honor of the famed footwear’s 25th birthday. We bumped into Stephen Curry on the way in—I told him I was pulling for him to beat the Truth in the three-point showdown and he thanked me and said he had a blast with it.
Seen in the space, held adjacent to the W Hotel all weekend, hosted the likes of Bobbito Garcia, Rich Medina, Jadakiss, AJ2010’s designer Mark Smith, Chris Paul and Carmelo Anthony. Oh, and big shout out to Project 2050’s Kristen Wise, who looked out for the SLAM crew the entire weekend. 
So anyway, we checked our coats at the door (and we got ‘em back with no problem at the end of the night, unlike the night before huh Lang?) and walked in to the intimate VIP area of the Space. On a makeshift little stage, Bun B was rockin’ the mic, delivering his trademark crisp rhymes to the Jordan sneaker faithful. I’ve been to a million concerts so I can say this with confidence: small venues are the best way to enjoy live shows.
After Bun dropped “Big Pimpin’,” on us, DC-bred rapper Wale hit the stage and ran through his catalog to the delight of all the back-packed hip-hop heads. Funny development of the night: Wale threatening to do a cover of Kings of Leon if the crowd didn’t take its hype up another decibel and him doing it anyway and the crowd not missing a beat while singing along.
So even though our “bachelor party” was not one for the ages, we soaked up the Jordan experience and the free alcohol and went back to our hotels very satisfied.
