Best of DLS: Thaaaaaaiiiiii Food

I did a very Miami thing and hit the Miami Pro League. Michael Beasley put on the full Beasley show, unreal skill and somehow a twenty point loss, and it made me wonder why current NBA guys even bother with open pro-ams.

Beasley’s bigger with kids now than he ever was in the league because his clips are pure bag. He takes the tough midrange shots only a handful of NBA players are allowed to take, and the renegade vibe plays great on Instagram.

Beasley is my biggest miss. I was convinced the Heat were his team and that we lucked into him at two after the Bulls went Rose. I have never been more wrong in sports.

That mixtape era had us all fooled. We watched John Wall glide through high school highlights and thought, this is the next one, dance and all.

I talked myself into Justice Winslow and even Josh Rosen. With Winslow, the tools were there, but the hands and the skill never matched the hope.

I fell for Tyreke Evans and Michael Carter-Williams. In football, Peter Warrick felt like a sure superstar to me and never hit that gear.

We do this every year. Clowney had generational hype and still ended up in that Reggie Bush bucket of good but not the legend we imagined. And the whole Maserati Marv thing feels off when you see him getting locked up and not separating.

Baseball had its versions too. Strasburg’s debut hype was Hall of Fame level, then the injuries piled up and the deal weighed down the franchise. And we debated Marlins trades forever, Hermida versus not touching Stanton.

Let me take you to the 2009 draft. I was in Phoenix, and Curry was the top guy on our board but we never expected him at seven. Memphis took Hasheem Thabeet at two; we didn’t even like him in the first round, and we figured only the Grizz had him that high. Then Minnesota doubled up at guard with Rubio and Flynn.

Imagine Curry stuck in grit-and-grind Memphis with Lionel Hollins. Whole timeline changes.

Thabeet went second overall and started twenty games in his entire career. That’s wild.

I’ve been wrong the other way too. I thought Michael Redd wouldn’t stick. I saw Harden a bunch at Arizona State and couldn’t see the path to stardom, then he turned into a scoring scientist.

Same here. He didn’t pop in person and then reinvented the math of the game. We even got sidetracked trading stories about witnessing medical emergencies at games and how crowds process those moments.

Dolphins pain check-in: I was sure Brady Quinn was our savior and screamed when they took Ted Ginn. I was counting down picks like it was fate.

We all dunked on Josh Allen pre-draft. Watching now, we missed how rare his running and goal line value would be. Same with Jalen Hurts, who outgrew the game-manager tag.

Switching gears, I got shamed out of ordering filet because someone called it a feminine steak. It stuck with me more than it should have.

Steak doesn’t have a gender. I like fat and flavor, and I’d rather cook it myself. Same with cocktails, though bartenders hate cranking out espresso martinis because they’re fussy and slow.

I’ll take lean over fat and still think a great bar drink beats the home version. The vibe matters.

Pre-batched old fashioneds bug me, but I’ll admit the flamed orange peel showmanship gets me every time. It tastes great for a couple minutes and it’s fun to watch.

I did a solo three-night food bender. Steak at the bar, pizza loaded with meatballs, then Thai. I ordered dinner at four, hoarded the egg rolls, and started Boardwalk Empire.

Marlins are building a Miami Live setup outside the park with food and hangout space. It could work if it draws people who aren’t even going to the game.

Think smaller LA Live or Philly’s scene. The Panthers were salty because the Marlins didn’t flag active construction ahead of the Winter Classic, but these districts print money if you get them right.

Every new stadium has a scene now for folks who never scan a ticket. Meanwhile, that Wendy’s by the ballpark looks frozen in time, and fast food joints lost their soul with kiosks and no cashiers.

We walked by that famous Brickell holdout spot. The house lives in permanent shade, wedged by a giant hotel. It’s a win on Instagram and a loss in real life.

That’s the whole genre: viral houses that refused to sell while the city grows around them. Same energy as highways built around one stubborn lot, or the plot of Hitchhiker’s Guide, or even Up.

Up is overrated. Eminent domain is the real plot twist, and it’s brutal.

We’re talking power projects and how eminent domain hits Black neighborhoods hardest; think the Barclay Center, where a lot of people were displaced to make that arena happen. Tough way to close—yeah, it’s a sad note to end on.