Petro v Karl

So Johan Petro is no longer a Thundercat. If you didn’t already know, the Guadalupanian is now a member of the Nuggets, dealt yesterday in exchange for Chucky Atkins (draft picks, cash considerations, t-shirts, and an English muffin were also exchanged).

Two thoughts crossed my mind on hearing the news of Petro’s trade:

Thought #1) Johan Petro’s teams, in his long and storied career as the French version of Caldwell Jones, have posted a won-loss record of 91-191. That’s a .320 winning percentage, which is a nice batting average for your third baseman, but a little less than what you’d hope for on the daily standings page.

Now? Well, now Johan is going to a team currently in first place in the Northwest Division, and in the top three in the entire conference. After spending his past three springs gallivanting in the Caribbean, Petro is going to learn the joys of not screwing up on national television.

And somewhere, Nick Collison is wondering just what in the hell he did in a former life to deserve this crap.

Thought #2) Has there been in NBA history, a player-coach combination more poorly suited for one another than George Karl and Johan Petro? Karl loves hard workers, gritty defenders, playmakers, and poorly designed mock turtlenecks, not necessarily in that order.

Petro, contrarily, is a 7-footer who has never especially enjoyed getting rebounds or blocking shots, and considering his favorite offensive move is a 12-foot jumper, he’s not exactly Moses Malone on offense, either. (Of note: Johan’s 0.5 blocks per 36 clocks in below former teammate Kyle Weaver’s 0.6. And, yes, Weaver is about 7 inches shorter than Petro).

Granted, Petro will be spending the majority of his time on le bench, but let’s ponder for a moment a hypothetical conversation at practice this May between the young center and his new coach:

Karl: Johan, dammit to hell, I told you to box out!
Petro: I was trying, monsieur, but my legs, they have the tiredness.
Karl: Ah, what the f@$!. I can’t believe I’ve got to deal with this s^#%. Johan, for the last time, this is the playoffs, you have to work harder!
Petro: Oui, mon capitan. I will, how do you say, give the 110 percentage from now on.
Karl: Johan, I don’t want the 110 percentage, I want your skinny French ass to plant itself in the key so that we’re not giving the Spurs seven chances to score every time down. Are you understanding this?
Petro: Certainment, monsieur. But le Duncan, he pushes with the strength of a thousand waves, and I am but a poor Caribbean boy trying to withstand it.
Karl: Oh, for the love of Christ! Somebody call Ervin Johnson. His 100-year-old legs would still be better than this crap.

Or something like that, anyways.