Finally, Danny Granger can quit pretending to know anything about building a house. (Getty Images)
Way back in the long, long ago, Indiana Pacers forward Danny Granger told the team's official website in a "getting to know you" feature that, although he considered himself a big-time film fan, acting was "not my cup of tea," and that he didn't harbor the same sort of on-camera dreams as his eventual teammate and "Parks and Recreation" co-star, center Roy Hibbert.
But for someone who literally owns thousands of movies, who seems to like taking hard stances on the artistic merits of big-screen media (for example, "Drive" = bad, while "Country Strong" = good) and who craves the spotlight as much as Granger does — remember how mad he was about the lack of national attention the Pacers got this past season? — there are other ways to strong-arm your way into a position of power in the biz (that's what we call it). Like, for example, by writing for the screen.
So it seems only natural that when Granger was looking for a new home in Los Angeles, where he's spent the lion's share of his summers working out for the past few years, he linked up with Kevin Williamson — best known by most as the screenwriter of three of the four movies in the successful horror franchise "Scream" (including the wildly successful first two installments), best loved by me as the creator and executive producer of "Dawson's Creek," which is what we had to fall in love with in junior high because "90210" was over, "Felicity" seemed too grown-up and "Gossip Girl" didn't exist when I was your age — to make a deal on the writer's Hollywood Hills mansion.
For the princely sum of $3.715 million, according to the Los Angeles Times, the Pacers' leading scorer gets to move into the place where Sidney Prescott and Pacey Witter were dreamt up. And what a snazzy place it is:
The chic contemporary, built in 1990, features walls of glass, city views and 15-foot-tall ceilings, which may have appealed to the 6-foot-8 small forward. Designed for entertaining, the house has three expansive terraces, a pool area bar and a swimming pool. There is a gym with a sauna, a home theater, four bedrooms, 5 1/2 bathrooms and 5,140 square feet of living space.
Meet Danny Granger's new roommates. (Getty Images)
But as he combed through the details on Granger's new spread, Tom Lewis of Pacers-focused blog Indy Cornrows couldn't help notice that something was missing: "What? No batcave?"
Longtime BDL readers no doubt remember that Granger — a big-time comic-book fan who's long since bragged about having a custom Superman robe — has been talking about having his own personal Batcave built under his home since 2008. He's never relented on the prospect of having his own private underground lair, even when the state of New Mexico informed him that certain elements of its construction — like, for example, the underground tunnel entrance on which he'd had his heart set — ran afoul of the building code. He just kept powering ahead, meeting with architects and contractors, and informed SI.com's Zach Lowe last November that "the Batcave is very much in effect."
Now, though, he's a married man, the father of twins and the owner of a new home in a new state with a whole new set of building codes and restrictions, and while I don't know anything about California and its bureaucracy, I do remember listening to Adam Carolla yell for like 100 hours about how much of a hassle it was to, like, get clearance to build a standalone garage on his property. I can't imagine it'd be any easier to get the OK to create a subterranean sanctuary in which you install "this kind of circular island, where you park your car on this big circle, and the circle spins, so that you never have to back the car out." Friends, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I fear we may have just witnessed the death of the Batcave dream.
On the plus side, though, if Danny decides to give up the Bruce Wayne ghost and grab that brass Dawson Leery ring, those "three expansive terraces" are going to make it way easier for Joey to lean her ladder up there and climb in for late-night hangouts and overwrought polysyllabic chats about existence and high school that make everyone but me want to smash their heads in all the time. You win some, you lose some.
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