All My Friends Are Funeral Singers: An NBA Experiment, Vol. 1.1

Editor's Note: The idea of team love is something that gets a lot of support throughout sportswriting. There's ESPN Philly and Boston and Chicago and all that shit. But there is seldom a writer that gets to expose their bias as completely as they want to (mostly because fans of other teams have no interest in hearing from us for too long). This got us to thinking. And thinking hard. So, throughout the NBA season, Pretzeltown is going to be an experiment: four contending teams (Boston, Denver, LAL and Cleveland)will be represented by four different writers sharing their thoughts on the process and progress. First up is Ryan Dee-- a man amongst Gods and an all-things Cleveland fanatic.

The Great North Coast Volume1:

With the 20^th pick in the 1996 NBA draft, the Cleveland Cavaliers selected a center from Lithuania named Zydrunas Ilgauskus. A practical and talented scorer, with a wealth of size (7’3”) who had already played professionally in Europe but was a virtual unknown in America, he was part of a growing philosophy amongst General Managers and coaches. Experienced players in the European style could contribute to the American game. The selection was met with little fanfare, and when drafted in tandem with Vitaly Potapenko, Cavs fans were discouraged to consider that Michael Jordan’s ghost had exhausted the organization and the time had come to rebuild.

The rebuilding did not go well. The roster that Z joined boasted the likes of (teenager) Bobby Sura, (slightly more follicled pre-GM) Danny Ferry, (fat) Shawn Kemp, (not the novelist) Henry James and (not the quarterback) Derek Anderson. Ilgauskus spent the better part of three years disabled and going through painful foot surgeries that have basically replaced his once human Lituanian feet with some kind of early James Cameron-science-fiction-scrap metal set of feet certain to withstand the perils of nuclear holocaust but less likely to extend a career in professional American basketball.

Still, Z worked his ass off on awful teams where he was often the best offensive weapon. He became an All-Star and earned his 71-million-dollar contract by establishing a smooth 17 foot jumper that is difficult for Big Men to defend and also saves his body and METAL FEET from banging around under the basket.

In 2003, the Cavaliers were smart enough to be bad enough to draft something from Akron called a LEBRON JAMES (not a car made by Chrysler). And God was in Heaven and all was right with the World.

You would think that basking in the BENEVOLENT EVERLASTING LIGHT of BRON for the past five years would have shone a light on the big man-- who has consistently averaged 14.5 points and 8.1 rebounds (and again named an All Star)-- but he is still included in the “when is LeBron gonna get some help” and “the cavs have LeBron and a bunch of stiffs” categories.

This year, the Cavs will not have that excuse.

Again, Z will concede to a Great Charismatic Athletic Monolith in Shaquille O’Neal, (I think he was the guy who broke backboards in the 90’s) the last great artifact of the attitude of Basketball in the last generation. Pre-tweet and Pro-Kazaam. And, it may just extend his career again. With Shaq taking a lot of the blows from the first teamers, Z is going to get favorable match ups against bench players which will allow him to easily spread the floor and bring slower centers closer to the perimeter allowing Cleveland’s back court and swing men James, Mo Williams and Jamario Moon to slash and score, which me likey very much.

It has been rumored that if they win it this year, Z will retire. It is also rumored that if the Cavs need to make a move (specifically concerning the Delonte West situation) that it may again, be Z (and his tempting, firm, luscious expiring contract) who is asked to make room for yet another star to improve Cleveland’s chances of licking David Stern’s GREAT BRASS RING, and having an excuse to make a parade in Cleveland.

This season, there will be an uncomfortable amount of references to the greatness of and possible departure of LeBron James and his relationship to the City of Cleveland, the City of Akron and the City of New York. Every Cavs fan will have to confront this possibility again and again via national broadcasts (I’m looking at you, Reggie Miller). This will be the storyline.

But there is another storyline coming to a conclusion: Zydrunas. The European experiment has been a success and we will get the opportunity to see Z reinvent himself again this year as a sixth man, complimenting and improving the dynamic of Cleveland’s second team, even if it is only until the trade deadline. And while there will be much written about the Native Prodigal, let’s take this year to enjoy watching the big, strange Lithuanian who has chosen to make Cleveland his home and who has enriched our basketball experience as Cavs fans with his loyalty and consistency over the last decade.

The locker room has changed a lot since 1996 and for four years now the Cavaliers have been, and their fans have been able to enjoy, a legitimate contender. So, if this is the last year of their dominance and if this is the last year of LeBron allowing his GOLDEN GOD DUST TO SPRINKLE DELICATELY OVER THE ROOFTOPS OF CLEVELAND’S ECONOMY AND SPORTS HOPES AND FUTURES then so be it. I’m just glad I’m not rooting for Fat Shawn Kemp and fuckin’ Bobby Sura this year.

Ryan Dee

Help.

When does basketball season start again? I was even watching Kings v. Knicks in Summer League today. It's getting desperate already.

Also of note: SHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEED.

Outside the Aviary: "What Burns Never Returns."

In watching the Celtics last year and the Magic (thus far) this year-- have they proven that underrated talent rises when they are put to the impossible task of beating the best player in the world? Sure, D-How was nice in the OT, but this was Rafer and Rashard like it was Posey and Pierce. No one expects Cleveland to lose, but this team keep finding ways to beat them, like the Celts last year. Is this a weakness of LeBron? Is it a team weakness? Is Orlando the latest "hot team" to take down a giant at the perfect time? Is Cleveland, as a sports city, doomed?

No.

The Cleveland Cavaliers lost three games doing exactly what they should be doing defensively: leaving Rafer Alston alone, hoping to stop the rest of the team. Alston is the sole player on the floor at any given time with a glaring weakness: he'll take any shot despite being a less-than-average shooter. The Cavs lost while relying on LeBron down the stretch. He played an amazing number of minutes and peppered mistakes with incredible shots. The Cavs lost while fouling Dwight Howard in crunch-time. You have to do that and they did. Dwight hit free throws. No one would have expected that.

The Cavs lost because their big men were insufficient, their threes weren't going down, and they made mistakes. Since the breakup of Shaq and Kobe and the deterioration of the Spurs, the NBA now has the most fallible sets of championship contenders in the league's history. Think about the list: an old Celtics team, a Magic team that lives and dies by the three, the Lakers who have a myriad of problems with role players, point guards and big men who aren't getting the chance to assert themselves against smaller lineups. The Cavaliers went into the season as the favorites for the one or two seed. Beyond that their fallibility had to be lurking somewhere, right? Just not against teams who were as disjointed as Atlanta and Detroit.

I don't think that many people were counting on the Eastern Conference Finals being a cakewalk until Kevin Garnett went down. However, Garnett going down benefited Orlando way more than Cleveland. When Dwight Howard saw Garnett go down, his eyes were transfixed on insane double-doubles. There is no pother big an capable of stopping him in the East. Conversely, the Cavs big men had no reason to celebrate the absence of Garnett. Ilgauskas is a jumpshooter, Wallace is a defender/hacker and Varejao is a scrapper. None of them are accomplished scorers which leaves the interior defense hungry to bang LeBron around and keep him from going hard to the basket. They won some and they lost some and Orlando will live with that. Possibly long enough to get to the finals.

All this while Rafer Alston plays above his own body and Mo Williams is playing with the lowest confidence level he can possibly have. He is passing up open shots, letting Delonte and Lebron run the point more than ever and missing his open looks more often that I have ever seen. Delonte is his own problem and the Pavlovic-Sczerbiak connection has done absolutely nothing thus far. The problem of production continues to rear its ugly head. If the guards stretch the defense, the Cavs have a chance. If they do not, the Cavs are doomed.

So, that leaves LeBron. LeBron has done it all imperfectly, then perfectly and again, last night, imperfectly. Like a bedbug looking for a blood meal, he searches for ways to bump into the lane and create with no space and little help. The picks aren't helping, the passes aren't getting to made shots and the plays aren't effective. Yet, they have been a shot away all three losses. Not to be lost in the din of Orlando's triumph is James' imperfect brilliance.

How did we not see this team's fallibility before? The problem doesn't lie in the players, it lies in their design. This is a team of strange pieces, and for the second year in a row, this team looks poised to falter with the greatest player in nearly any sport. Mo Williams was brought on to take the pressure off of the team-- not even off of LeBron but the team itself. He was the piece with enough smarts to control the Cavs destiny outside of LeBron. The shooting percentage, the moves and the fluidity to give them a viable second option has been neutralized.

And so too have the Cleveland Cavaliers. As LeBron forces instead of flows, the team does the same. LeBron is not the problem. Cleveland is not the problem. The defense is not the problem. Mike Brown isn't even the problem. The problem is a team that looks to a leader and expects him to deliver. He can and will, but not every time. No, at some point he has to be helped, like we all do. And this still doesn't seem to be the team to do it. Problem is, so few of saw this coming and we should have.

Phony Responds to BorL's Dirty, Devious Tricks Regarding a Camera Left at his Apt

I'm assuming you primarily mean the Padres. And that's fine. As the immortal Loggins and Messina wrote, "Even though we ain't got money, I'm so in love with you, honey." And while, in our time on this feeble rock, your Redskins have won 3 rings to the Broncos' 2, the Rojo Socks have won 2 trophies to the Pads' nada, and the Celtics have won 4 rings while the Nuggets have never even won a conference title, I have this, and this only: the Avalanche have won 2 cups while the Bruins have won none. Actually, I don't even know if you like hockey. Either way, fuck you in the mouth.

While we have no empirical evidence that I suck (there are no Sivitses in popular culture), allow me to point you toward Nevada. See those lights over there? Yes, that's none other than Viva Laughlin, a show so heart-stoppingly horrific that uber-handsome ultra-male Hugh Jackman himself couldn't save it. Wolverine can't help? Way to suck the life out of gambling, loser.

First off, I don't appreciate that kind of language. Secondly, Colorado has some of the best microbrews and kind bud in the entire country - not to mention sweet, sweet ski bunnies. As a state, our homosexuality is limited to people who strongly preach against that kind of behavior. North Carolina is home to Duke, which strongly exemplifies that kind of behavior.

Enough said.





You do have a vast array of effective low-post moves coupled with a pair of gorilla arms so absurdly lengthy you can A) block my shots despite me being a few inches taller, and both of us sharing gravity-accepting verticals, and B) tie your shoes without bending over. You're also impossible to move due to a torso shaped like a barrel and consisting of hardened concrete. I do, however, have a better jumper than you. So eat me.








Ok. Wow.

You know, one was bad enough, but this was just pushing it.

You're mine, shit-cow.

I'm gonna fucking own you.

BASKETBALLS

NOTE: In one week, the NBA season tips off. In three days, I activate my NBA Season Pass. Sure, I didn't write about baseball all that much this year, and yes, I have been on hiatus for the past, oh, three or so months, but I'm (sort-of) back. Sorry to the five of you not looking for pictures of Jeter's head blowing up or tiny pictures of supermodels.

My breath was visible last night. This can only mean one thing: soon, friends, the men will play the basketballs. Oh sweet god, they will. Baseball is dealing the last of its deck, football is storming toward the middle of its parade and hockey trudges through the beginning of it's demanding schedule.

Oh, but basketball. The surreal and the simple, the speed and the grandeur, the squeaks and squabbles: they excite me more as each season approaches. While the sports world beckons the coming of post-season glory or the newest injuries to affect the championship bubble, the interest squares solely on the potentials for now:

Can the Celtics repeat without the elder bench-bound statesmen? --Not bloody likely.
Will Portland meet my heightened expectations this year or do I have to wait for them to realize that they need a damn point guard to win now? --Likely the latter.
How good are the Lakers? --Likely damn good.
Shall I predict a champion? --No, most likely.

The questions, the answers are all potential; likelihoods. In no other sport do the possibilities outweigh the probabilities like basketball. While baseball hinges on the statistical, football prays for the survivalist, and hockey awaits the unexpected, basketball moves with mood and functionality; a conduit into the soul of motion. Kobe and Manu's jumpers, Monta's speed and finesse, Oden's rawness in the post, Stuckey's likely transcendence, Garnett's waning hunger, CP3's first step: they all have the common allies and enemies. Each is contingent upon the flow of want in each night, each move, each thought. Left, right, jump, pass, no shot, take him, OH SHIT WHAT A PLAY, WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT-- it's all too quick to understand, but all too easy not to.

Now, more than ever, LeBron has to know his enemies and friends. Now, more than ever, New Jersey has to find a niche. Now, more than ever, the Knicks have to care about their physiques. Now more than ever, San Antonio, Dallas and Phoenix must fight clocks and aches. Now, more than ever, Philly must act like they belong. Now, more than ever, the middle of the pack must remember that all teams have weaknesses on any given night and that any team with a chance is dangerous. Sure, it's 82 games, but it's only one right now: opening night. Either 1.000 or .000.

And I can't wait to measure it all out. Who is relevant to whom and why? We shall see, friends. Each step is toward the goal-- even backwards and lateral. Each pass is calculated-- whether poorly or otherwise and each shot matters. I just can't wait to see which ones fall.

Playoff (Real) Talk

As per my first round questions, here's the rundown:

Washington hasn't been standing up to LeBron. Nope. Not at all. Calling LeBron Jesus in this series is celebrating Christmas for it's true meaning and not admitting you just wanted presents. Oh, but instead, let us gaze upon the real Jesus-- Chris Paul. He is making the Mavericks his bitch and subsequently making Jason Kidd look old, tired, scared AND disinterested depending on the play:

Posting Paul up-- Disinterested. Nothing but cross-court passes to semi-open shooters of which the length of the Hornets can rattle on closeouts.

Guarding Paul at the beginning of the game: Old. Jason Terry is now, seemingly, the primary defender after the first time Kidd gets beaten.

Guarding Paul at the end of the game: Tired. He's nowhere to be found-- hanging around in case there has to be a double-team, but even then, can't Josh Howard handle it, Coach?

Fourth Quarter: Scared. He knows he hasn't got it.

In fact, the youth on the Mavericks (AKA Brandon Bass) seemed to be the only non-timid factor in the second half. Let's get home and then we'll see. MOTHERFUCKERS, IT'S THE PLAYOFFS. Kidd, get some fire, for fuck's sake. Big guys, block Tyson Chandler the fuck out. Someone act like you know how to run at Peja when he getes open and someone, SOMEONE at least feign to move CP3 away from the middle of the lane at some point. Then again, if it means New Orleans moves on, and I was right? Fuck it, Dallas, let it be.

Marinating on the other points, AI and Melo are, in fact a force. the rest of the team have to be the defensive stoppers. Tonight will be telling, becuase it ain't like the Lakers are stopping anyone either.

Which brings me to a great point-- who exactly thinks this team can win a championship without defense? The Spurs will murder this team in the post, slaughter them at the point and have been hitting every crucial three against a Suns team that has thrown everything at them. I don't know, man. Unless they show me something they haven't yet, I got my doubts.

Oh, and FUCK. The Spurs maybe CAN repeat. Suns need game three and need it to be a 10-15 point game. Confidence, you know?

So, rundown the previous four points:
Mavs ain't clicking.
Spurs look repeatable.
Melo and AI are a force on an iffy team.
Replace LeBron with CP3 until next series.

This could all change, of course. God, I love the playoffs.

Ideas on the NBA Playoffs (round one).

Ah, the NBA playoffs. As I was telling a work-buddy and avid pro-ball enthusiast, this may be the best playoff year since 1986. Might be. That hinges on a few crucial ideas. I'll be revisiting them as they come to fruition.

1) The Mavericks are actually clicking. Yes, they destroyed some teams at the end and the post-injury Dirk has been intense and fear-worthy. The big question (to me) is, whether they can beat the Hornets four times. The hybrid Mavs, half-running/half-set, are going to have to adjust to Chris Paul more than the Hornets adjusting to Jason Kidd. Can anyone guard him? Are they going to be able to close the lanes with deflections or close the post without getting beat by a good cutting team?

The Mavs are playing well on offense, sure, but they have problems with good point guards. Kidd can't defend Paul, so Terry and Howard will have to limit his options once he penetrates. If they can do that fairly effectively, we got a seven-game series on our hands.

2) LeBron James is Jesus Christ. If this is true and he can single-handedly win a round in the playoffs AND challenge the Celtics with the worst fourth-seed in recent history (all of this without throwing in the towel with Kobe-style frustration), then the East will be much more interesting than people think. Philly is playing well enough to steal one in Detroit, LeBron is putting up the best non-MVP numbers I can think of and Boston is going to be scrutinized on every play the make or don't make.

The most interesting thing about the East? Cleveland is just as good as they were last year. Seriously. This was the Finals team. LeBron is still there, folks. Hughes was hurt against San Antonio and still jacked up tons of shots and Mike Davis (my least favorite coach in this league) was too stupid to replace him with Daniel Gibson. Instead, he played them both. Take Hughes' shots away, give them more Boobie, and place better rebounders/defenders in over Gooden. This is not a great team. It's not. However, it is LeBron's team. And he is great. Great enough to beat the Pistons down last year and scary, considering I'm a Celts fan. They will beat the Wizards if they don't turn the ball over a ton and then LeBron gets a chance to tame the giant. Oh shit.

3) The Spurs cannot repeat. If the Suns beat them up (a la the Red Sox losing to the Yankees but baseball fans knowing the Yanks had no chance in the next round) and they still advance, the next round will be even harder. They can be exposed. The trick is whether or not Nash, Amare and Shaq are enough to do it. Shaq has to contend with Timmy, Udoka AND Kurt Thomas. He's older, slower and less likely to dominate in big games and the one problem no one seems to talk about? A lost step for the Spurs was made up in shrewdness when they picked up another big body before the trading deadline. Bowen, Thomas, Udoka, and Duncan are defenders. Last year, in a championship year, they had one less body to handle the big guys.

This is the thing: this series will come down to guardplay. Shaq vs. the corps of bodies, Timmy versus Amare-- all secondary to the fact that someone, ANYONE has to stop the guards for San Antonio. Nash is a worthless defender-- as has been chronicled-- and Raja Bell is only one man. Manu and Tony Parker will run wild. If the Suns don't find some toughness at the point or some deflections once the guards penetrate, they aren't going to make it to seven games.

That said, if the Spurs make a repeat appearance in the Finals, this will be a playoffs of complaint rather than a celebration of good basketball at a peak time.

Melo and AI are going to be a force whether they play defense or not. People are fully asleep on the idea that the Nuggets are a tough out. Allen Iverson hasn't been in the playoffs in years, Melo has something to forget about, and these guys can SCORE. They have shooters, slashers and a machine at the two-guard who is just as hungry (if not hungrier) than any one of the three Celtic superstars.

No, I don't think the Nuggets can beat the Lakers, but I do think they can steal one or two at home and extend the series. Lamar Odom, an injured Bynum and a Kobe less than a year removed from a temper-tantrum that alienated him further from NBA fans (somehow) do not a champion make-- until next year, maybe. Yeah, they'll carve up the Nuggets for 115-120 a night, but it's possible that they will give up 116-121 at least twice.

I mean think about it: the Suns are playing the Spurs IN THE FIRST ROUND. The Nuggets-Lakers series could see 900 points scored in five games if Melo is allowed by law to drive to the games. The Hornets could be one of the best young teams in history and they have to play a team that has the most to prove (alongside the Suns) in this entire playoffs (yeah, I said it). The Celtics are fielding the hungriest team in NBA history with a statistically perfect defense. LeBron is lurking about. Kobe is too.

And on top of it all, AGENT ZERO IS BACK. YYYYYYYEEEEESSSSSSSSS. Get ready. This is gonna be awesome.

East picks (R1 only):
Cleveland in six.
Orlando in six.
Detroit in five.
Boston in four.

West picks (R1 only):
San Antonio in seven.
New Orleans in seven.
Utah in six.
Los Angeles in six.

All-Time Fast-Break team.

(EDIT: 6th man included.)

Today at workjob number one, I got into a discussion about the all-time greats and run-first basketball. My friend Laurence asked for my all-time fast-breakbasketball team members-- one that was capable of winning games and was aesthetically pleasing to my love of basketball. I'll share his first and then mine (with explanations and team analysis).

First off, though, this post came at the brink of a must-win game for the eighth seed in the West. I know it's baseball season and all and I have allegiances to my favorite team of all time (oh to be .500 for the Yanks series), but I could't help but get pumped for the Warriors-Nuggets. No, they didn't play good defense and no, neither of them have seen an off-balance shot they don't like, but think of the offensive talent level in this game: Iverson, "Ran"thony, the Baron, Cap'n Jack, Monta (my newest favorite player in the universe not named Garnett) and the rebound machine that is Andris Biedrins.

The difference in this game (to me) will be the fact that these teams are outstanding offensive rebounding teams. I tried to emulate this on my "points" team. While I enjoyed the game, I was covertly thinking of how badly I'd like to see my fantasy fast-break team play together.

Now, to the point. The only rules here are: starters and a sixth man, you should assume each of these players is in their prime no matter when they played, defense is no matter and we decided to put together two different squads no matter how good the picks were. Also, he got to pick first, so I didn't get Jordan or Magic.

Laurence's team: Isaiah Thomas (PG), Akeem (before the H) (C), Clyde Drexler (F), Magic (SG), Worthy (PF), Gervin (6).

My team:

Steve Nash (PG)-- No one runs the point on a run-first team like him. No one. I'm dead serious. I considered a ton of point guards from Cousy to Isaiah as well, but Nash is the man I want running a fast-break team throughout history forever (other than Magic-- fucking second pick). This makes the rest of the team click.

Amare Stoudamire (PF)-- Sticking with the new kids here, I love the unselfish nature of Amare on the break, the monstrousness in the short-half-court set and the offensive rebounds galore. Everything about this man is scoring in bunches if Nash and he are on a good level. To be sure, he is one of the greatest running power forwards the game has seen. Ever.

Wilt Chamberlain (C)-- He scored 100 in a game. 100. Points. He can run, he passes to cutters well, and he always finished. How much better can you get?

Dominique Wilkins (SF)-- Here's where I will get slaughtered, probably. Think about it, though. He slashes, he fills lanes and he has speed and power. He finished well. He was always a guy that got good separation for quick shots. Here's the thing-- he's a cutter. He always found the basket
and knew how to score when he got there-- with or without the ball. On top of all of that, he could handle the ball at any point. Putting him and Nash together put towo certified ballhandlers in charge of a break and two guys that could find separation all over the floor.

Earl Monroe (SG)-- At first I considered Pete Maravich for a purely stylistic understanding of fast break basketball, but "The Pearl" stood out. In the films I have seen of him (most recently in "Black Magic," which was awesome), he was a pure passer, shooter and an amazing runner. He wasn;'t the fastest man on the court, but he got to his slots quickly on the break and had moves unthinkable.

Adrian Dantley (6th Man)-- Is there a need to explain this? He's a genius who deserved a championship. A hall-of-fame player with the word RUN written all over him.

Monroe, being the final piece of my starting squad, brings it all together. You have three ball-handlers, two rebounders, a scorer at center, a monster power forward, a pass-first point guard who can shoot the three lights-out, and my favorite shooting guard of all-time. Monroe is the intangibles guard-- he has the flash when necessary, the ability to hit the midrange jumper at will and the overall mentality of the best player on the court at any given moment. 'Nique starts to struggle or lags off and Monroe picks up the slack. He can trail or lead the break, has a good entry pass for the bigs inside and knows how to get tot he open spots if the quick score doesn't come. He's the guy I was most proud of picking.

What about your all-time fast-break team? Let's get some commentary, people.

Next up? All-defense team.

Watching the MVP (no stats included)

Chris Paul gets my theoretical vote for MVP. I know Kobe hasn't won it before and deserves it. I know KG made the Celtics more than relevant-- he changed the way men played basketball with his presence. I know LeBron James is LeBron James. I know it. Paul, however, changed the way I looked at basketball once, and lead a insurgence in New Orleans that cannot be denied as the single best collection of people playing to their talent level in one season that weren't "superstars" at the start of the season. Honestly, if you knew David West would not only reach, but surpass his peak level, Tyson Chandler would become one of the best all-around young forwards in the league AND the bench (including the unpolished-but-fun in Jannero Pargo) would blossom simultaneously, raise your hand.

*Raises hand.

Like many others, I knew about Chris Paul. When I watched him at the end of last season, I knew the leap was inevitable, but more so, I knew his game was already exploding. This comes from knowing exactly how to watch him.

I had a head start, by accident, with Paul. I lived 30 minutes from Wake Forest and never saw him play a minute. I went to several North Carolina State games and none of them was against Wake. I had my chances and never took them. Then, in a wonderful and heaven-sent gesture, my friend Matt produced tickets to see a pair of first-round NCAA Tournament games, the latter of which was Wake Forest vs. Manhattan. Funnily, I had seen Manhattan once that year against NC State and knew how sneaky and quick they were.

But I had never witnessed a live Chris Paul. I said "holy shit" more times in one game than I did in my first week of college coming out of an all-male military high school. He was astounding, and what's more, he was so good he turned the crowd away from cheering for an underdog. If you've never been to a first-round game, the reason you're there is to see "the game" where the little guy wins. Not here. Paul was a one-man show without a supporting cast. Erik Williams was a big, slow, fouling oaf, and Justin Gray was a hot-headed, fairly lazy 2. There was Vytas Danielus, but there also wasn't, in a way.

Paul ran the break so quickly, he had to take skitter steps to let his team catch up to their lanes. He made that team so much better, that Erik Williams was discussed as a viable pro prospect. In a close game, I saw Chris Paul decide he was going to take the game over with no help whatsoever-- something the NCAA doesn't see often (see the fixation on Stephen Curry). This is why I've never had much interest in Ty Lawson, Jarrett Jack, Javaris Crittenden or Raymond Felton as a pro prospects coming out of the ACC-- they were ruined when I saw Paul.

Unfortunately, most people watch Paul the exact way they watched the last episode of the Sopranos or The Wire-- awaiting the crazy ending they sat through five years to see. They expect the plays to be flash and glitter; alley-oops, fade-away threes and no-look skip passes. While those plays happen, they happen with less effect than the tiniest plays before them. He does two things before a play develops that floor me every time I see them, and they lead to my adulation and MVP rating.

Paul may have the most purposeful first-step I have seen. Unlike fellow MVP candidates Kobe or Lebron, Paul's first step is rarely toward the basket. His is more like Iverson, but the likelihood of finding open lanes instead of open space. He puts himself in perfect position to have three options other than the shot. The first step is a preternatural beast and it should improve vision, create separation and not waste the movements of the other players. Paul is so efficient that passes are already delivered before cuts are made. His first step not only sets up the play, it defines the movement of the rest of the shot clock. Against Detroit, he had an ankle injury and still dropped 6 assists in the first few minutes. That was all first-step, and when Rip and Chauncey closed in on him, it rendered him ineffective for the most part. New Orleans lost badly.

Last night, he got into rare foul trouble. Still, in a play highlighted by NBA.com (surprisingly good wrap-ups and highlights longer than just 25 seconds of dunks and dazzle have made them my go-to in lieu of ESPN), Paul drove toward the lane but not into it despite having an inside path on Rajon Rondo. Why? Because the help defense would be coming from the weak-side due to his ability to alley-oop with Chandler and West. So he drove two steps to the weak-side to pick up a second defender, went up and hit the open (weak-side, of course) shooter for a midrange jumper. Paul drives to pick up defenders instead of look for contact or kick-outs. You can't call the play a kick-out. He never touched the lane. It was like a back-pass near the mid-line in football (soccer, sure). It set up everything by not being greedy. The open-lane penetration was a perfectly sensible idea, though the most likely to end up with a contested shot. He chose the way to points rather than the way to the ideal close-range leaner. (NOTE: watch the game-winner against Cleveland posted above. His purposeful side-step in the lane draws LeBron off of West-- an All-Star leaving another All-Star alone in the closing seconds. Classic.)

Paul's ability to make his teammates better depends less on his teammates than it does for any other MVP candidate. It's that simple. He's that good. Kobe had to get a team to firm his handle as the best in the game. LeBron can't be argued against numbers-wise, but his team tried to bulk up as well. He's also dealing with the Eastern Conference. I don't like how maligned they are, per se, but in the MVP debate, Paul plays a more solid set of contenders every single night, and puts up insane numbers in the process. KG has two other bona fide superstars next to him. Paul has what he has-- a good team that has no business leading the West with less than 15 games to go.

I wonder if most people really know why. You can listen to the critics and list the numbers, but there is something about seeing it in the middle of a quarter-- a sidled step to find a better lane with 17 still on the shot clock, a drive to the wing to free up the post, or, yes, a high screen-and-roll with an alley-oop result-- that tells you that this team would be scores of unrealized potential without the most valuable player taking that first step.

Ah, shit.

OK, so it happened. The unthinkable. Colorado, for one night, got revenge for that whole World Series thing. Phony got his revenge for me continually (yet, believe me, accidentally) bringing up the Padres before the new season washes away the pain of the Holliday incident. Allen Iverson got revenge on Rajon Rondo for that nasty fake behind-the-back thing he does to veteran guards (though you'd think Sam Cassell got enough revenge by clocking his jugular).

Even crazier, the Celtics dropped a winnable game against an opponent deemed lesser than themselves. Forgive me for bragging, but that hasn't happened all that often this year. I get the feeling it will happen a lot more as the post All-Star hangover wears away. They have exactly four cares in the world right now come playoff time: Dwight Howard, Chauncey Billups, LeBron James and Kevin Garnett's stomach muscle. The East, barring major mishaps, will be series of 81-75 games and will await Reggie Miller's tiresome jawing and off-the-cuff mispronounced phrasings.

Meanwhile, the West just solidified what could be the greatest playoff alliance in the history of the free world. When, basketball fans, can any of us remember a time so loaded with talent in one league from the aging vets (Kidd, Shaq, etc.) all the way down to their super-young counterparts (Bynum, MVPaul, etc.)? When? All in one side of the league? Are you sure?

The Nuggets win tonight isn't just exciting for Phony, it's exciting for all basketball fans. Yeah, Garnett was hurt, but he played and the Nuggets won. They just catapulted above 16 other West teams that had not been able to beat the team with the NBA's best record-- including the Spurs (who got no Garnett at all). Let's project the following teams into the playoffs in no order: Suns, Spurs, Lakers, Mavs, Hornets, Jazz, Rockets, Nugs/Warriors. Each of these teams has the potential to push a seven game series-- proven by the fact that the Nuggets are 1 game above the Warriors right now for the final spot, and they just beat the Celtics.

Random conjecture: If the Suns win the West and draw the eight-seed Warriors, HOW FUN WOULD THAT BE? HOLY SHIT. NOTHING BUT 133-131 shootouts? YES PLEASE. If the Lakers came into the third spot and had the Hornets (who I think will finish well below their current projection), who is going to stop Chris Paul? In that case, who will stop anyone? Consider this:

MAVS: Kidd, Nowitzki, Howard, etc.
LAKERS: Kobe, Bynum, Gasol
SUNS: Amare, Shaq, Nash
SPURS: Champions, etc.
NUGGETS: 'Melo, Iverson, whomever they trade for
ROCKETS: Yao, oh nevermind. They are out in the first round.
JAZZ: Deron, Boozer, team ethic/angry coach. Western Conference finalist last year, remember?
HORNETS: MVPaul, West, Chandler-- sure it ain't enough, but it will be fun to watch.
and then there's the WARRIORS, with he most improved player in the league Monta Ellis. His game will warrant a whole other post. It's undeniably perfect for that team RIGHT NOW.

The big three on any of these teams are as good as any other team, with the exception of the Hornets' youth (but still, MVPaul) and the Nuggets possible trade possibilities. The playoffs are promising to be the best we may ever see or even better, so as the season progresses, I am going to find a way to (not quite) fully and (un)extensively report on each of the contenders in the West until I am out of steam or I hyper-extend my brain... whichever comes first. I'm sure Phony will help, despite our lack of allegiance this evening.

One thing his for sure-- whatever happens will be fucking outstanding.

A Day of Light Amongst Current Darkness

50 degrees. Mid-afternoon. After I bought a new basketball, I traveled the subway to Long Island City. On the way, I realized three things:

1) Men and lesbians: carrying a basketball is as effective a tool to get women to notice you as a puppy or a baby. Try it sometime. Carry a basketball and watch their reaction. I got more smiles than Pryor's prime, no shit, and from women that normally pay no attention to me.

2) Everyone thinks, somewhere in the recesses of their soul, that they are a sports star. When regular subway riders see someone with a ball under their arm, the immediate reaction is not unlike a wife seeing her husband in front of tools: "You know how to use that thing?" Yeah, I do.

3) I don't know shit about the V/E trains. Thought I did. Ended up in Manhattan trying to get to LIC. Who knew? I imagined filled courts-- beautiful day-- and visions of fucking around to attain a triple-double danced in my head.

In any event, I arrived at the empty courts at 4:15: an hour until darkness would end my day. I began warming up: jeans, hoodie over long sleeve shirt, armband tight around my forearm. Hit some simple banks in close, moved back with little success, clang-clang, more bricks than the bible's got psalms. A plague of bricks, my people suffering.

So, off came the jeans. then the hoodie, then the Celtics cap. Hook shots were falling, jumpers missing their mark. Skateboarders crashed while sliding over walls. The night before I was drunk and sad. Each clang of the metal backboard was a large-scale realization of conceptual self. The basketball I dropped 40 bucks on is a step toward spiritual peace. I'm not a happy man. Each shot was a reflective masterpiece: airballs, banks, runners, each one a step toward a pinpoint understanding of my faults. Each time the ball crashed through the net was a reaffirmation of my loneliness, an admission of my inevitable death.

I could have died on the court-- collapsed like Hank Gathers or Reggie Lewis and counted the blessing and sins of my life like a smoker calculating how many cigarettes he/she has for a night at the bar. I would have passed away with my faculties intact, the ball rolling slowly toward the wall until it had no place else to roam. Alas, I did not die. I continued to shoot. OK, hit a nice jumper from the elbow, missed two from a spot I used to know like I knew the contours of my first car. Stop and pop, cross over-- I forget how alone I am the world, all the rejection and loss of the past three years, all the complications of self-awareness. A shot rims out, don't let it go out of bounds, long jumper no good, long rebound, take it in, layup no good, follow is good.

There is no score, there is only the sun setting behind me where the water sends cold wind. The skateboarders are trickling away, passers-by coming from the grocery store looking over a lone, maniacal madman talking to himself, settling himself down. I am a genius in the dusk. The ball is overfull, but getting softer and less alien in my hand. Popped one from the free-throw line. I am to blame for everything, am responsible for everything-- I am enabler and a good friend to no one. I am a tycoon with underwhelming clothes. Finish hard the rim, adjust the shot. Adjustments.

It's getting pretty dark; the skaters are gone. The people passing by are walking faster as the cold gets bitter. My extremities are getting harder to use. Keep shooting, wind playing with the long shots, move in. You are alone because you drive people away. You don't have a direction. Good from the far corner. That felt right like arms embracing for a long period of time. Everyone seems to love you. The ball is light in the left and rolling, rolling away.

Finish up the night; barely visible hoop. Finish with the right, five layups. Finish with the left, five layups. Free-throw. Missed it so I start over. So it goes for fifteen more minutes. Drilling into myself the way I want it: I am not capable of putting all together.

The sun is gone, and I am cold when I finally hit my eleven in a row. Smiling, nodding contentedly, I leave the court and realize that basketball is perfection for me. The Earth takes the ball's rotation, the moon is above me as perfect round white as the splash of the net, the constant pounding of the cement like my heart beat and this might have been the best day of my life.

In summation: I think I am ready to write about basketball. Never thought I could before. Maybe I am ready now.

Let's Talk About College Basketball, Shall We?

Here's the thing: I love basketball. I don't write about it all that much, because it's like describing sex. I feel like I can't do it justice. Watching a perfect pick-and-roll (I saw one last night when Chris Kaman dropped a midrange jumper by rolling off of a pick just TWO STEPS) or a well-executed break off of a long rebound, I just go warm all over and feel like I walk though cars or fight a school of fish and win. It's the damn truth.

There is, I'm afraid, a disconnect in the college game. I can't get excited about teams that take ten to fifteen seconds to set up a play that takes twenty to execute. It promotes the most boring kind of basketball-- sloppy picks, easy baskets on over-extended defenses and worst of all: coaches are allowed to overthink every play. I've picked on Sean Miller and Xavier before, and I will again today. There were plays where three people tried to pick for Drew Lavender (one of my favorite "won't make it in the pros, so he plays his fucking heart out every day 'cause this might be it" guards) and none of them rolled anywhere near the basket. Even if Lavender sprung free, who would be open near him? Everyone was standing around behind him, leaving him with an awkward bank shot that had a better chance of hitting me on my couch than rolling in. He made one out of three of those, and the commentators went nuts.

Then, with a small lead, Xavier made the same mistake they made against Ohio State in the tourney last year. They slowed down the ball. Against a good offensive team in Tennessee. And they gave up pretty much the exact same run-- 8-0 in the final two minutes-- and lost. Overthought. A game lost.

Conversely, Memphis' John Calipari put together a ridiculous second half against Georgetown. Memphis kept running them out of the gym-- refusing to stop penetrating or scoring early in the shot clock to keep the pressure applied. Lo and behold, they won a fairly convincing matchup. Call Calipari what you want, but he knows how to win when he's ahead. He knows he has a group of 18-21-year-old kids that don't want to do anything but play and win. The best way to do that is to let them run and press and play the way they did to grab that lead. If you lose because you continued to exploit weakness and beat a team at the end of the game (when they are tired), so be it. Losing in a slowed down offensive set when you've had success taking the forst open shot is ludicrous.

I propose a 30-second shot clock. Any team can muster a play in that amount of time and the games will be more compact and tighter in flow. Meanwhile, coaches may have to reconsider their "milk the clock, wait until there is a "7" on the shot clock, and force up a horrendous three strategy." They will have to call plays toward the end of the game like NBA coaches do. Maybe they will call the wrong plays, or set eight picks with no rolls. Maybe they'll draw up new plays to attack tired, desperate players and exploit over-aggressiveness toward the end of the game. Maybe, just maybe.

Either way, I can't love the current format if it continues like this. It's just five seconds. It will make for better basketball for... uh, me, I guess.

Thoughts?