Watching Manu Ginobili flail, flop, jab step, pump fake and weave his way around the Detroit Pistons in the 2005 NBA Finals was frustrating. He seemed slow, awkward even, and had some sort of bald mullet that made him look like Fredo from the Godfather.
Yet, there he was in the lane again. Yet, there he was torching the Pistons for 19 points per game in the NBA Finals, hitting clutch shots while his stringy mullet flowed behind.
I thought, “I hate you Manu Ginobili. I hate your game. I hate that you perfected soccer-style flopping and brought it to the NBA.