The story of Kendrick Perkins, whatever he does from this day forward, will begin and end with two Very Bad Moves. Off the court, I mean. Everyone knows Perk doesn't have moves on the court, because Perk is less a basketball player than a piece of heavy equipment that someone dragged onto the court from a rock quarry.

Neither of these Very Bad Decisions is Perkins's fault. But because Perk is so demonstrably inept on the court, he stands as the physical embodiment of what these two Very Bad Decisions actually were: a breach of the public trust.

So here's Kendrick Perkins, fee-fi-fo-fumming his away up and down the court for 20 minutes a game. To watch him catch the ball at the foul line, imitate a dribble-like motion two times, plunk the ball between his massive hands as if to say "Namaste," and immediately pick up his pivot foot is not altogether joyless. (Schadenfreude is technically joy.) Sadly, Perk's play now seems like a prolonged exercise in ensuring that "bull in a china shop" is one day supplanted as the go-to metaphor for awkward/disastrous predicaments by "Kendrick Perkins in the low post."