LeBron James’ Decision: An Exploration in Rock and Roll songs from Chapel Hill in the 90’s-00s

LeBron James’ Decision: An Exploration in Rock and Roll songs from Chapel Hill in the 90’s

Mentally, I am exhausted. I went to the woods and removed myself from civilization for a few days and came back to two jobs, overwhelming debt, an overarching sense that I am not doing anything well in my life and 14-16 hours days. Also, I came back to New York City as the go-to for a lot of my friends for “Where’s LeBron going?” talk. I’m a basketball guy. I know this. I love this. But there is only one way for me to describe to non-basketball fans how the LeBron decision affects fans in the contending cities: be as obscure as humanly possible.

So, here, non-basketball fans. This is what tonight means, as described by 90s-00s rock groups localized in the greater Chapel Hill, NC area.

LeBron spurns Cleveland:

Small (23): Steal Some Candy

Cleveland has been both a blessing and a curse for LeBron. He grew up in Ohio, has been the most beloved athlete in Cleveland (until tonight, possibly) and gave hope to a grouping of the most troubled fans ever to grace American major sports. Still, he was unable to escape his friends, focus on basketball and basketball alone, and every problem was magnified by the Cleveland populace’s rightfully-placed negativity. Thus, Small’s anthemic, driving rocker: “It’s been a couple days and I get the feeling/It’s just another sign I’ve stayed too long/ Pieces of the puzzle keep disappearing/ It’s always been a matter of what went wrong.”

LeBron stays in Cleveland:

Archers of Loaf: Underachievers March and Fight Song

Cleveland’s underdog mentality, despite not getting a championship quite yet, can finally rest a little easier. This is the time to dance and play guitars and smile at one another despite hardship. You see, if LeBron stays, Cleveland is a relevant state in the basketball-- and American sports-- union. This is their chance to hale it all. The name of this song says it all and the lyrics reflect a city with a lighthearted sigh decompressing their quickened hearts. Plus, screw the major markets. YEAH, FIGHT THE MAN. “Doomed to fall/ Smashing their evil empire up against the wall/ All for one/ One for all/ ‘Til their done with free space...” Can’t really get closer to the explanation than that.

LeBron chooses the Knicks:

Polvo: Right the Relation

Polvo wrote this song, very obviously, about their breakup when they were at the top of their collective game. “I killed my creation/ to right the relation...” This is LeBron’s thinking, if he chooses NYC. I know I left Cleveland. AI loved them, but I had to find other means; other money; other outlets. LeBron in New York makes no sense to me, but for his megalomaniacal brand-driven mindset? There’s no better course than to make the history he was destined to. Sure, Polvo’s decision was a little more ,low-key, but dramatics have little to do with an passionate choice. It’s about the moment.

LeBron spurns the Knicks:

Superchunk: Water Wings

Um, these might do:
“Was it worth the wait/ Was that the wall where you marked off the date?”
“...the wings/ Made of wax/ Made of water/ He was too dumb to accept the offer/ He was too smart”
“She pointed at the black cloud in the sky/ She said that’s what happens when you’re learning to fly/ She said with you it is no use/ Why do you try?”

LeBron chooses the Heat:

Raymond Brake: New Wave Dream

This song’s music is really what describes the mood of this move. The idea of watching Chris Bosh, LeBron and Dwayne Wade was a feverish 4 AM dream (yes, I woke up/stayed awake to see them play) in 2008’s Olympic Games. The prevailing rumor is that these gentlemen planned to play together all along. If this is true, the mathy/stop-start pacing belie the basketball fans idea of the move. On one hand, we get to see an amazing sight. On the other hand, we all know the drama surrounding each player’s decision was an underhanded and ridiculous ploy for attention. As the warbling vocals and guitar layers wash over us, the basketball fan doesn’t really know what to do with all of the new, shiny toys laying under the trees. Also at play? the fact that this band was largely ignored unless you lived in the area. Really, only Miami fans are truly excited to see this. The rest of us a cringing-- even if only just a little bit.

LeBron spurns the Heat:

Superchunk: Driveway to Driveway

This is pretty self-explanatory. The Heat already got more relevant. They got two big names, kept their superstar, and have been walking around in a haze for the last two or three days. Nice feeling, but once the hangover comes on, you realize that you spent a lot of money for a better-than-average team.

LeBron chooses the Bulls:

Squirrel Nut Zippers- Meant to Be

As an NBA fan, this is the choice I love the most. “All the time/ I’m finding ways to make things fall in line/ I know/ How tricky things can be... Listen here/ Some things are meant to be.” The Bulls have everything LeBron needs: major media outlet, money, a solid team ready to compete, a new big name, Michael Jordan’s legacy and a chance to win immediately. LeBron has everything the Bulls need (explained by the fact that he is the best player in the game right now). Unless you have a rooting interest in Cleveland, this is the move you root for if you love good basketball. This is the move you love more than you love your own teams’ chances. This is the move that makes you nod respectively and look forward to seeing a great team. those don’t always come along, and this is our chance to see one. This isn’t three big names and a slough of small contracts/filler. This is one great player, young talent and a dream of a championship. This is what we want.

LeBron spurns the Bulls:


Since Michael Jordan left, this is the general milieu. Mistakes, regret, good players floating in and out of the uniform, but nothing permanent, nothing that can compare to the high of those championships. “All of my friends have floated away/ Connect the valley to the astral plane.” Yeah, they’ll have a good team, but the (second) best player may have floated away with all their championship dreams.

So, there you have it. Each team with a real shot (The New Jersey Nets and the LA Clippers were mercifully left off this list) and the song that best describes them from a town that never really caught on. Not bad after being removed from civilization for a week. The only regret is that so many bands never made the list since the youtubes are a little more modern than their run in the 90s. Sorry, Spatula. Maybe when Carmelo Anthony makes his decision.

Oh, and for those of you bored with the whole fucking thing?



Sleepytime Trio: Not Without My (Swimmies)

No, they weren't from NC originally, but fuck it. This shit destroys.

All My Friends Are Funeral Singers: An NBA Experiment Vol. 2.1

Sometimes, it's weird to think that the Celtics won't have a Marreese Speights, a Brandon Jennings, a J.J. Hickson or a Jared Dudley that will surprise me this year. Rajon Rondo is nice and all, don't get me wrong, but he's reached that all-too-important (and amazing) pinnacle of next-level for me. This is not a complaint about an 8-1 team that just destroyed the Jazz (note: 8-3 after losses to the Hawks and, uh, Pacers-- yikes) and showcased exactly why Deron Williams has trouble with elite point guards despite being a damned good one.

I happen to think the difference in elite and damned good might just be personnel. Chris Paul is the only elite point guard without good personnel. Deron and Rajon have good personnel (when Boozer shows up to play), so they look like elite points. I'm wondering what would happen to Deron without the cast he has and Jerry's ever-vigilant eye. I wonder, also, what will happen to Rajon once his cast begins to depart. So here's the math problem then: If R is a better passer/user of space than D and D is a better shooter/creator than R, which variable stabilizes as a point guard without a better cast? I'm afraid it might be D.

Back to the present though: went to see the C's play in Jersey in a particularly uninspired contest. Rajon and Ray were great, Garnett is a step slower and (my) reports of Marquis Daniels being a pointless acquisition are a bit premature. Perkins was a rebounding machine at the end-- he sealed the Nets fate in the last couple of minutes. The Nets are a bad team, only, I don't think they are 0-8 bad. Terrence Williams was a certified scorer when he got some space, B. Lopez played big and actually hit some 15-footers after struggling early and once Devin Harris comes back, they'll have a nice rotation on their hands. They aren't gonna be good by any stretch, but they aren't this bad. That said, they were inspired and worked extremely hard and scored 76 points. Yikes.

Some of that goes to how the Celts played them. When they ran a basic 2-1-2 zone the game and doubled anyone-- ANYONE-- who got below the elbow, it was nice change from the man-to-man they use. Perkins got into foul trouble trying to cheat off of his man early (in the man-to-man), so the zone saved Garnett from having to protect him. Smart move there. Once they established that Ray-Ray was on, Rondo actually sat a long time in the fourth and they went with House and Allen bringing up the ball. Strange move. Ray doesn't need to play 35+ minutes against the Nets. Bad coaching move. So, more of the same from early-season Doc: make the right moves and the wrong moves and the players pretty much sort it out. I can live with this but it makes me nervous.

Let's get to the scorecard. We're 8-1 (pre-Hawks and Pacers, I know) and playing excellent defense minus the Suns abomination. When the Suns are on point, you can only hope to outscore them and we aren't that team. The first unit has been good but not great and the second unit has been playing above their level. Somewhere in the middle is the truth (pun not intended) and all of this while being witness to a laid-back sense of the Truth (pun intended). Thus far, I'd say the team is playing right into my expectations. Thing is? Cleveland and LA have been playing above theirs (at least Cleveland has since they played Orlando). So, it may take another level-- Rondo may need to have some Chris Paul or Deron Williams rub off on him (that didn't come out right) and where Garnett raises a level he may not have any more. They may need a calmer Sheed (not gonna happen) and Pierce may need to replicate that 2008 run (uh, maybe?).

But that's in May. Right now, it's a Sheldon Williams November and I will take 8-1 all damned day. (Again, 8-3... I've been busy these last few days.)

All My Friends Are Funeral Singers: An NBA Experiment Vol 1.4

I won’t lie to you…I am tired of Kobe too. I’m tired of Stuart Scott confusing Kobe with his street patter. I’m tired of Lakers fans who use tags like BlackMambaCreatedTheWorldin7Days and refuse to countenance the suggestion that Kobe might wake up with bad breath. I’m tired of dicking around with the Kobe vs. Lebron question (Lebron), or Kobe vs. Shaq (Kobe). I’m tired of wondering whether he’s capable of a sincere human interaction that doesn’t involve anyone named Mrs. Kobe Bryant or Kobe Bryant’s Daughters. I’m even tired of hearing about Kobe’s Quest for Another Ring. Mostly, though, I’m tired of apologizing for Kobe.

Who cares, right? Why whine about it when we got the trophy last year? But when the best member of your squad is the American Civil War of the NBA (the motherfucker pits brother against brother), it grates on you. Because he plays basketball the way you wish the shooting guard on your team would play. Well, unless you are a Miami Heat fan; in that case go put on a white shirt and thank Avery Johnson every night before you go to bed. For the rest of you: let’s all agree that the media talking points suck, Kobe the person is not likable or adept in the spotlight, there’s an accusation of rape that David Stern has somehow declared Will Never Be Mentioned Again, and just for kicks his wife may be a psycho hose beast of Barbara Bush proportions. And let’s agree you would take him in your backcourt.

To keep things obvious, the Lakers NEED him in their backcourt. We have a Slovenian who supposedly improved his game this summer by cutting his hair. We have Shannon Brown, an unknown quantity of freakish speed and chaotic athleticism that may translate into more turnovers than points. We have a young point guard in his contract year who believes he should have been a starter three years ago but whose best defensive move may be hoping one of his ears clotheslines Aaron Brooks as he flies by for the -nth time of the game. Fish has been canonized at this point…in 2001 we guessed he was more Devean George than Norm Nixon, but he has proved his value with numerous integral plays over the years. So let me not seem ungrateful when I point out his legs will barely make it through another 100-game season; his shots still rainbow with that obscene arc, but now tend to go in fewer than 4 out of every 10 attempts. If it’s unclear why that’s a bad thing, I bet Daryl Morey has an ingenious algorithm to explain it.

What I’m clumsily implying is the Lakers’ chance at repeating as champions lies in its frontcourt. You’ve heard about the length, you’ve heard about the boy wonder Bynum and his injuries and large contract, you know Lamar has handled his role as sixth man without fault. There’s nothing revolutionary here, just a team built around size while most of the league went small. The Artest-for-Ariza swap? Your guess is as good as mine. Trevor was well-loved, as any young player would be if he makes the Leap on your team, especially on the way to winning a ring. Artest has been a long-time favorite in the same way I’ve enjoyed the speeches of Michelle Malkin…pure entertainment value, but please stay way the fuck over there. The only thing I can be sure of is Crazy Pills’ barber had better be sending royalty checks to Anthony Mason.



The one reason I’m not letting any of that ruin this season for me, or my hopes for another championship banner in our so-close-it-hurts attempt to outnumber those seventeen dusty green-and-white flags hanging in Boston: Pau Gasol. He yowls, he grows a beard that looks like it belongs in an underfunded Museum of Natural History, and he makes the whole damn roster click. He could pass to you across a Brooklyn-bound F-train car on a Friday afternoon. He can guard your center or your power forward, and might be able to move faster than both. He plays within any offense. He is the perfect number 2. He is the reason we were the last team standing in June, and he will be the reason if we do it again.

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

Outside the Aviary: "Who Is He (And What Is He To You)?"

Lost in the din and glamor of the beginning of football's seasons, the playoff chases in baseball and the general loss of words we have for the lack of summer in NYC this year is an amazing feat: the greatest player in basketball history paying homage to his primogenitor.

Lost in the amazing 80s-early 90s run in the NBA is the man who brought the game above the rim. A forgotten name amongst the greats of the game; a name that gets props from some of the 50 greatest names in basketball history, including Charles Barkley, but can't get his name in a headline on ESPN. David Thompson began the principles of swagger. He wasn't allowed to dunk in college-- he of the 44" vert-- so he would literally play above the rim by placing the ball over it. He was an unstoppable force that helped stop an unstoppable force when N.C. State beat UCLA in the 1974 NCAA tournament during an undefeated championship run. He was a number one pick in TWO leagues and chose against the NBA-- against it.

Lost in the 70s and early 80s, since his career didn't amount to the greatness it should have, Michael Jordan is putting David Thompson on a stage of the elite when he had hall-of-fame teammates, coaches, and an alma mater full of greatness. Jordan has made his point: this is about basketball and nothing more-- not friendship, nepotism, heroism or a belief that he owes something to anyone other than his inspiration. This is a chance to show why Michael Jordan became Michael Jordan. No lore of his high-school failure or recanting of the old days in college or even talk from an old battle partner on the greatness of the man. Nope, this is going to be basketball, pure and simple, from one man who knew what it was like to be the most explosive man on a court at any given time to another.

Lost in the surprise: Jordan lifting the curtain to reveal his respect for Thompson's game probably surprised many people. It did me at first. But doesn't it make perfect sense? After all, for all the shoe jockeying, movie making and commercialization, isn't the intention of Jordan to promote basketball first? And North Carolina basketball at that? (See: Gerald Henderson, Brandon Wright, Sean May, Raymond Felton.) Thompson was from Shelby, North Carolina and played in Raleigh. He was North Carolina basketball's first shining example during and after the ABA-NBA merger. He was one of the first real above the rim players to rep the ACC during the Dr. J years. Or, to sum it all up, there's this:



Thompson rocks his NC State credentials on his chest and Mike just awes over the legend of one of his heroes.

Found: a legend before the legend. They are the culmination of North Carolina basketball through Everett Case and Dean Smith and Coach K and the rest: the ultimate prize of presenting the greatest baller in history lies in the hands of a man whose legend goes unremembered. ESPN and NBA.com both herald Jordan's hero as an "ex-NC State star." Not a basketball hall-of-famer, not David Thompson, not even former great. Just an ex-NC baller. For Jordan, that's perfect. Here's hoping people listen to the speech and listen well. The beginnings and culmination of the modern era of basketball are to be witnessed to the land via North Carolina pride.

This is all I got, son

And: Afflalooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Ok, not quite the same cachet as SHEEEEEEEEEEED, but whatever.

We, the Proprietors of the Pretzel Factory, Make Jokes About the NBA Draft, and People About to be Far Richer than Ourselves

Hello, basketball fans and readers of words on the internet! This is a joint venture of the two world-weary - yet undeniably sexy and hilarious - blogger-type personages who sometimes write things that appear on this site. We are here to make funny about the NBA Draft, and maybe about things not involving tall men and balls. Won't you join us? Hooray!

(Note: So you can tell your friends and, in 37 years, grandchildren, which of us said what monumental thing, they will be prefaced accordingly: PG for Phony Gwynn, and BoL for Business or Leisure?. See? You learned something. Fantastic!)

PG: I am awaiting the presence of BoL, so let me say this: I am an unabashed fan of I Survived a Japanese Game Show, and ... it may have seeped into the first few graphs there. Just so nobody asks me where I got the killer peyote.

And...they're here! (Note: We have a guest speaker, Carlos, who gets a plain old "C." Simplistic? You bet! Sexy? Not really.)

BoL: David Stern could read my favorite book, or a Penthouse Forum letter, and I would [rolls head over, closes eyes, makes loud, obnoxious snoring sound.]

[Griffin is picked by the Clippers] BoL: He's kissing dudes? You're not even in L.A. yet!

By the way, we both agree that this was beyond excellent.

BoL: Ted and I decided the other night that the drunkest thing you could say, even if you're stone-cold sober, is Colorado Rockies. No matter how you say it, you sound drunk as shit. C: Rrrrryyyannnn Spppillllbbbborrrrrggghhhhssss for the Cccccolllllllorrrrrradddddo Rrrrroccckkkkiesssss.

[Mike Dunleavy is shown on screen] PG: Oh no, it's Steven Seagal's ugly, bald cousin!

[The Thunder take James Harden 3rd] BoL, PG: OH NO! NOOOOO! WHY? WHY?!?!?

[New T-Wolves GM David Kahn's credentials are shown, including working as a consultant on NBA Showtime] PG: What is that, Summer Sanders's resume?

PG: When the T-Wolves picked Ricky Rubio, all the ESPN sound guys heard an audible 'thump' and were confused. Turns out it was Mark Jackson's erection smacking the underside of the desk.

[Graphic says Jonny Flynn hasn't grown since the 8th grade] C: I'm surprised they put that. "Real small..."

[The Warriors take Stephen Curry right ahead of the Knicks] BoL: Yes! Fuck you Yankee-cap wearing mother-fuckers! (Not sure if this is what was said - the audible groaning of Knicks fans in attendance was drowning it out.)

BoL: Oops. We skipped the DeMar DeRozan pick, much like the Raptors should have.

Terrence Williams: "I learned great under Coach P, I can learn great in the NBA." C, PG: Well, apparently he didn't "learn great" in college. C: English 101 was a problem, there.

[At this point, many of the compelling points in the draft - Rubio, Curry, etc. - had subsided. So we ordered Chinese food. We shall resume shortly, presumably with the poking of fun at Tyler Hansbrough.]

Before the Pacers pick, BoL says: This is it. Who do they have? C: Troy Murphy, Travis Diener ... PG: Mike Dunleavy Jr. BoL: They could do it. C: Can we call them White Flight? PG: I like White Night. Kind of ironic.

[The Pacers pick ... Tyler Hansbrough] C, PG, BoL in unison: YES!!!!!!!!!!!!! [High-fives abound.] BoL: THE GREATEST WHITE TEAM OF ALL-TIME!

Pacers nicknames: Vanilla Thunder, The Whitewash, The Opaque Floor Generals, Clear and Present Danger, The Awkward Brigade, Definitely Your Father's Pacers, White Team's Guilt, The White Stripes (only for pinstriped away jerseys), Duke: Midwest, I See White People, New Mother Russia, The Indianapolis White-Hundred.

The T-Wolves take Ty Lawson at 18, and we are summarily ... slack-jawed. One team - ONE TEAM - has now taken three point guards with their first three picks. AMAZING. BoL: I'm befuddled. PG: Well, aren't we all.

[UPDATE: Apparently, the Nuggets have traded for Ty Lawson. A young, solid backup for Chauncey Billups? PG IS A HAPPY MAN!]

[Shaq gives the "great" Stanley Roberts a shout-out during a phone interview] BoL: He just HAD to bust on Stanley Roberts. Stanley Roberts is probably watching Cars right now. What an ass.

[Fran Fraschilla on the Kings taking Israel's Omri Casspi: "They better have some good falafel in Sacramento."] PG: Really? Headline: Fran Fraschilla Flubs Falafel Flap.

BoL: Hi. I'm James Harden. I'm the 3rd pick in the 2009 NBA Draft. The next time you'll hear about me will be in 3 years when I commit suicide.

C: With the first pick of the 2010 NBA Draft, the Indiana Pacers select ... Luke Harangody. [This was incredibly, incredibly funny to us.]

[The Bulls' Gar Forman is interviewed] PG: Gar Forman definitely sounds like a NASCAR crew chief. [BoL and C proceed to speak in Southern voices and talk about restrictor plates. Justice cannot be done in print.]

ESPN goes to commercial with the Nuggets on the clock, and BoL correctly predicts that they wouldn't even show the pick. They come back, announce a trade, announce the Pistons' pick at 35, then ... talk about the trade. FUCK YOU ESPN. DIE IN A HUNTING ACCIDENT.

The scrawl reveals the Nuggets picked (please be DeJuan Blair, please be DeJuan Blair) ... some guard named Sergio Llull from Spain. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK. Denver, I have a feeling Llull regret this pick.

[UPDATE: The Nuggets trade the rights of the Llull pick to the Rockets for cash. NOT A BIG, SCORING, OFFENSIVE-REBOUNDING MACHINE. As far as I know, dollar bills can't get 5 offensive boards a game. But the Nuggets are cash-strapped, so ... whatever.]

BoL: The Detroit Pistons select ... Jeff Laughlin, from the University of ... FAT!

So, the T-Wolves are 5-for-5 in picking guards, even if Calathes won't play for them (and they're moving Lawson to the Nuggets). Either way, that's batting 1.000. Look out, Joe Mauer - the Wolves are on your ass!

And the Pacers pick ... A.J. Price. A black guy? What? NOOOOO!!!

C: Acie Law and Speedy Claxton sound like a TV cop duo.

We're late in the 2nd round, and we don't recognize any of these fucking guys, and we've had a few beers, so ... the updates are few and far between. PG: I did realize that David Kahn of the T-Wolves looks like the guy who plays Alby on HBO's Big Love.

And so the night comes to a close with a reference to a Mormon drama. The 2nd round petered out a bit, but the first round was wildly entertaining, with plenty of surprises and twists and turns. An enjoyable evening. And one that provided plenty of jokes.

No joking on this, though: RIP Jacko. You were ... strange, and bizarre, and sometimes downright creepy. But holy good lord were you talented.

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.

Split

Phew.

Too much will be made of J.R. Smith's venture through the circle on the Gasol vs. Billups jump ball late in Game Two. Was it a violation? Of course. Did the Lakers get a ton of calls throughout the game (and Game One)? Ohhhhhhh, you bet your ass.

Some seem to think that David Stern and the NBA, in their not-so-subtle way, want to see Kobe vs. LeBron in The Finals. We know where Nike stands. But what about everyone else?

Leaving the Game Two recaps and analysis to other, more capable blogs, let's look (wishfully) ahead at why Nuggets-Cavs is more compelling than Lakers-Cavs (assuming, of course, Game One of the Eastern Conference Finals was an abberation).

1. Melo vs. LeBron - Why does everyone assume Kobe and LeBron would go head-to-head? Kobe is an aging superstar quickly losing his legs. Sure, he explodes to the hoop for dunks every now and then, but those are few and far between. A capable defender - Shane Battier, or a vastly improving Melo - can force him into a fairly deadly jump shooter. Kobe on LeBron is a gnat on a semi windshield. Melo has shown that he has the tenacity, temerity, quickness and strength to guard the all-around best player in the game. Or, you know, at least try.

It would also make for endless columns about which 2003 top draft pick is going to join D-Wade in the VIP Champions club behind the velvet ropes. And considering the effort the Lakers put forth in last year's Finals, a young, hungry club making their first Finals appearance against a young, hungry club making just their second would be huge.

2. Nene vs. Sideshow Bob - Ok, not quite as compelling as 1. But two big Brazilians with interesting hair going toe-to-toe? One of them with a vast array of low-post moves, the other with a vast array of low-post flops? Just the promise of any hot Brazilian chicks in the stands is good enough. But this matchup is a microcosm of...

3. The Irrestible Force vs. The Immovable Object - The Nuggets may not have had the "best" offense in the league this year, but it's fairly obvious that they have the most balanced attack, and are certainly the most explosive team left in the playoffs. The Cavs were basically one of the top two defensive teams in the league this year. They say defense wins championships. Well, wouldn't this be a fascinating and likely entertaining case study?

4. Denver vs. Cleveland (with apologies to Toby) - The Drive. The Fumble. Two things here: A) Doesn't matter if it was a different sport. B) Cleveland has NOT forgotten. Trust me on this. Never has, never will. Those two AFC Championships, in back-to-back years, were soul-crushing. You think fans in Cleveland - not to mention, oh, EVERYFUCKINGBODY WHO CAN TYPE OR SPEAK INTO A MICROPHONE - will fail to bring this up all the time? And that it wouldn't add an extra level of pizazz?

Am I biased? Of course. But I dare any neutral fan to give me any other matchups, besides the tired Kobe-LeBron hype-a-palooza, with as much flavor as the one I really, really, really hope happens.

Movin' On

For the first time in 15 years, the Nuggets will advance to the second round of the playoffs.

Three things.

1) This was a decisive victory, but let's not start blowing smoke up each other's rectum just yet. This Hornets team was beat up, banged up, and nowhere near the "on-the-precipice-of-greatness" status they displayed last year.

2) When Carmelo decides he wants to take it to the rack, there are maybe a handful of guys on the planet who can stop him. New Orleans had one of them on their roster, but unfortunately they needed the 2003 version of James Posey. The Rockets have 2 of them, but luckily the Nuggets have a better chance of donning the old rainbow jerseys than meeting the Rockets anytime soon.

3) The Nuggets swept the Mavericks this year, and have won 7 of the last 8 against them. This series will not be a sweep. While the defense is much improved, the focus and discipline still wanes from time to time. Dirk and Kidd are savvy veterans, and the Mavericks have a bench capable of keeping up with the Nuggets' (something not seen with the depleted Bees). JR and Carmelo will probably shoot away a few games.

Prediction: Nuggets in 6.

But for now: HOLY FUCK WE'RE MOVING ON I DON'T BELIEVE YOU PINCH ME SUSAN!

Halfway There

God, I love this man. He's from Denver. He knows how to run a team. His name is Chauncey, which, when I was young, was our safe word for Doorknob. (When you fart you have to say the safe word before somebody says 'doorknob'; if you fail, they get to punch you until you touch a doorknob. Beware the dreaded Double Doorknob - you couldn't touch the doorknob on the other side of the same door.)

Speaking of young, it was 1985 the last time the Nuggets held a 2-0 lead in a series. 1985. I was six. Nuggets were little rocks of gold, not buds of weed. Twenty-four years. Wow.

Ask BoL: The End is Truly the Beginning

Dear BoL: Stephon Marbury is the picture of all this is godless and wrong with the earth. fuck the celtics.

Ryan D. (cavs fan)

Ryan: Technicaly, this is not a question, but off I go anyway. I took a good, hard look at myself in the philosophical mirror yesterday and asked myself, truly, what I thought of Stephon Marbury in Celtics duds. Know what I thought? Nothing. Nothing at all. It's not that I can't muster up feelings for the dude-- positive or negative-- it's just that any team that hands themselves over to the will and wont of a championship must forever stare into the face of the void and have the void stare back. The only way for Eddie House to reamin a two-guard in the second unit was to have a ballhandler that was, apparently, not Gabe Pruitt.

Philosophically, Stephon Marbury is everything my dad hates-- the skills of a brilliant madman with the tattoos and resumes of a high-school gang member hanging out near a rec center. Sure, the requisite whitebred response is immediately, "Shit, man. That guy's an asshole." I've even said it in my day. But weeks ago, i said, while sober, that I'd be happy to have Marbury on the roster. Why? Becuase, at best, he is a Steve Blake kind of problem-solver off of the bench. If Rondo is the creative master of the first unit, then Marbury is the cordial host of an after-party-- dancing with all comers without making any mistakes as to who is with whom.

At worst, he is a failed experiment that is benched in the playoffs (see Cassell, Sam in LA) and the Celtics lose a few bucks and MAYBE a night's sleep. That's it. This isn't a trade for Jason Kidd two years removed from the finals, or getting an old, expensive Shaq on the fastest team alive. This isn't MJ coming back either. It's a backup point-guard on a roster of forwards and two-guards. How can this hurt? Sure, my dad is pissed, but I'm sure that if the Celtics get to the Finals, I'll be regaled with "Marbury really shook off his demons, didn't he?"

The purest form of basketball is still played with wonton disregard to who passes to whom or what happened in the timeouts. Deliver the ball to the right people to make shots. Period. Marbury can do that, becuase the people around him won't deal with failure. Except maybe Glen Davis. Am I selling my basketball soul? I say, quite the opposite. Steph's fall from grace was well documented, and now, Celts-willing, his first gainful steps will be too. His countenance may never overshadow his legacy, but it will add to the remarkable story that many can't seem to want to stop hearing.

I'll listen, Steph. I will. And I, for one, think it will be worth it.

It's a Live Blog. For No Reason. I'll Probably Break Something Or Cry at the End

It's a Thursday night, I've got a glass full of scotch, and the Nuggets are on the tube. It's Brandon Roy, a chalk outline of Greg Oden and Melo's salty tears battling for the top spot in the Northwest Division.

1Q
10:48 - K-Mart is hurt, so it's Johan Petro in the starting lineup. Why not Renaldo Balkman? I don't fucking know, either.

10:51 - Joel Godzilla swishes two free throws. Seems like that can't bode too well for the Nuggies.

10:55 - The Blazers finally miss their first shot. Former Nugget Steve Blake, who looks like a GoldenEye character, misses a three.

10:58 - J.R. Smith follows a Nene miss with a monster jam, then gets a T for taunting. Look, JR, we love you, man. Now calm the fuck down. (Roy misses the FT, proving that the ball don't lie).

Also, my girlfriend just started telling me a story about Cadbury eggs, and I ignored her, and now she's pissed at me. I just tried to apologize, and she's still mad. What goes on in a woman's head? I bet it's like a Rube Goldberg sketch: boyfriend says/does something, the boot kicks over the ball, which rolls down the ramp, turning the lever, rotating the fan blade, lighting the match next to the pool of gasoline.

11:05 - Chauncey has a three-on-one, and ends up trying a finger roll and commits a charge. I saw the dish to Melo for the ensuing dunk in my mind, and it made me pee a little.

11:14 - The Birdman throws down a dunk, gets fouled, and hits the free one to put the Nugs up 31-18. Portland has no energy, which means they'll lead by 2 at the break.

2Q
11:31 - Travis Outlaw gives Nene a sick crossover move at the top of the key and nails a jumper. Where's Bo Outlaw when you need him?

11:38 - 3 straight Denver turnovers, a Roy-Aldridge monster alley-oop, and the inevitable lapse begins ... oh, wait, Rudy Fernandez just hit a 3, 46-35 Nuggets.

11:49 - Brandon Roy loses the ball at the foul line, gathers himself, then hits the jumper. J.R. Smith comes right back and drains a 40-footer at the buzzer to put the Nugs up 53-44. A 16-pt cushion got Ginzu'd down to to 9, but it was a solid first half.

HT
12:03 - More scotch. Charles says he feels sorry for Mark Cuban, and Kenny Smith calls Cuban 'Slumdog Billionaire.' Kenny rarely makes me laugh out loud, but that was pretty fucking good.

3Q
12:12 - The Blazers come out firing, the Nuggets come out cold and bumbling, and it's a two-point game. I AM NOSTRADAMUS.

12:18 - Nene with an up-and-under and then a jumper, and the lead is back to 6. They say the NBA is a league of runs, and I ask, why not more toilet paper endorsements?

12:25 - Melo leaks out for a second straight time, and again finishes with a lay-in, this time with the foul. The Nuggets could be a solid defensive team, if they wanted to. (See: recent Lakers game; see again: yes, the Lakers were tired, on the second night of a back-to-back, bite me, etc.) They may not be big, but they're all quick and athletic and can be extremely active when they want to. Also, the guards rebound very well.

12:30 - Birdman blocks Rudy's shot right off his mug and out of bounds, then combs his hair. Man, let that dude smoke all the hillbilly crack he wants. He's fun as shit. (Update: Aldridge subsequently posterizes Andersen and lets him know he was not happy with his preening. Point taken.)

12:34 - Linas Kleiza hits a 3 and the Nugs finish 75% of the game up 81-70. Can they actually assert their dominance and step on a fucking throat? Or will they continue to take bad, quick shots, fail to rotate and close out, and let the lead dwindle? Oh, you know the damn answer. Quit being so coy. Dirty girl.

4Q
12:39 - They show a graphic of the Nuggets' fourth quarters in the last few weeks, and it's not good. More minuses than a nuclear town's pregnancy tests.

12:40 - I immediately regret writing that last sentence.

12:41 - It's time for a Greg Oden joke. Greg Oden is so old... (How old is he?) Greg Oden is so old, there are no current records for his date of birth.

12:48 - Roy steps up and takes a charge from Nene, who looked like he was horny and going to Carnaval. If you don't like Brandon Roy, you don't like basketball and I don't fucking like you. Take your fancy sweater and leave my apartment.

12:53 - Kevin Harlan is a charter member of the "Doesn't Look Like He Sounds" club. He sounds fat, doesn't he? Or at least pleasantly portly? Yes, he does. But he's not.

1:08 - Dahntay Jones misses a 10-foot baseline jumper. He's the only shooting guard in the NBA who can't shoot.

1:10 - Jason Hart just hit a midrange jumper for the Nuggets. I have no fucking clue who Jason Hart is.

1:13 - Nuggets put it away late as the Blazers succumb to tired legs and 5,280 106-90. It was a good night. I could've drank more scotch, but I didn't. I have a job. RESPONSIBILITIES.

Like drinking more scotch and looking up boobs. GO NUGGETS!

The Gabe Pruitt Saga Ends Abruptly.

Alas, poor Gabe, we hardly knew ye. Since when does TMZ have time for backup point guards who are about to be demoted ot the D-League?

Also, OF COURSE HE WAS DRINKING. He just lost his job to a dude that is considered to be the scum of the fucking planet. LA is lucky he didn't occupy a tower and shoot nurses.

Sadly, I like Gabe Pruitt. I want him to play more so we can move Eddie house to the two on the second rotation. However, this is going to be impossible with the addition of Starbury. My mixed emotions on that coming soon. Until then, good night sweet Gabe.

Compounded Reality and the Confused Arab Chicken Company

Down the street from my apartment, there is a company that advertises fried chicken and pizza. While it's obvious to most that one should never eat either fried chicken or pizza from a place that claims to specialize in both, my roommate and I were desperate to have fried chicken delivered to our doorstep. This was a mistake, and not one we will ever make again.

Also, we should have known the food, in general would be terrible since the company did not spell the foods themselves correctly, speak English enough to know that chicken was being ordered over the phone, and had no idea that they had advertised credit cards being accepted on their menu. All perfectly fine reasons not to order their food. Yet, we did it anyway. It was an unmitigated disaster, yes, but it was something we had to learn.

Alas, I cannot be angry at a lineup that includes Perkins, Glen Davis and Leon Powe trying to vie for the worst interior spacing in the history of modern basketball. I should not balk at the idea of having three different big men in the game while Eddie House defended Chauncey Billups (a known Celtics killer). I honestly can't get mad. Because I get it. The rebounding and hustle trio is too tempting an idea: three hungry (albiet slow-footed for 2/3 of them) players looking to dominate the paint and the glass. I get that. As a coach for a team that was underacheiving for the game, you wanted energy from the players. Something to spark the first unit. That's understandable.

But, now, Doc, you've eaten the chicken and it tastyed terrible. Please refrain from calling that number again. My sanity and love of good basketball is at stake. Not to mention my want of Celtics basketball, because I could just as easily watch the Warriors in a more entertaining fashion. Learn that lesson and mve on, Doc. My reality can't withstand a compund confused big man complex. It just won't work.

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.

I'm SOOOOO Applying for This

I'm in the market for a new job, and this seemed like my cup of tea, so I'm going to fill out an application this week.

My buddy Stan and I mused for a moment what that application may have hidden.

Actual application questions:

1. Yes/No: Do you have a Bachelor's degree in journalism, communications or related field? (Related: English? IF so, than YES.)

2. Yes/No: Do you have at least 1 year experience as a sports writer or member of the sports copy desk? (Does a post on this blog once every three months count?)

3. Yes/No: Do you have at least 1 year PR or marketing experience with a professional sports team? (No.)

4. Yes/No: Do you know NBA knowledge? (Not personally, no, but I'M WILLING TO LEARN.)

5. Yes/No: Are you available to work any day or night that the Knicks play? (Definitely.)

First of all, read number four again. Related Questions not on the website:
6. Start/Stop: Snitchin'?* (For real, though)
7. Please circle the following things you are willing to do:

Give up on that pretty intern (yes)

Leave D'Antoni's draft picks alone (yes)

Liveblog a truck party* (yes)

Spell the new foreign guy's name correctly EVERY time (yes)
8. Are you willing to print what we tell you and not what actually happened (see no. 6)? (Uh, sure.)
9. Have you ever met Jamal Crawford? If not, are you willing to deal with menopausal mood swings? (My mom went through that once, I think. She didn't score many points on bad days.
10. Do you support Cablevision? (What is that?)
11. Are you willing to stop blogging (see no. 6)? (I guess so, yeah.)
12. Are you seriously willing to liveblog a truck party? (YES PLS.)
13. Are you willing to take it from Starbury in a tight area? Like the back of a Volkswagen? Or an alley? (Ummmmmmmmmmmmmm...)

I've got this, guys. It's in the bag.

*Question six and the liveblogging of a truck party were Stan's contributions.

Tonight's Celtics and the Ideal of Perfection

A rant and a rave about basketball as per Game Two:

First, the rant: basketball is such a simple game, people. Too simple. So simple, in fact, coaches and players try to overthink. When the game is at it's best-- like the last seven minutes of the third quarter and the first three minutes of the fourth for the C's-- all the players exploit the weaknesses of a team on the ropes. They attack. They feel the natural flow and they play. No other sport can duplicate this like basketball. This is why the game alternates between exceedingly perfect and horrifically unbearable. Doc Rivers went to his prevent defense (and the players actually ascribed to it) with seven minutes to go against the most dangerous player in the league. Why? Why not attack the rim and continue to beat this team down? Why allow Farmar to score? Why allow Kobe to get his groove? Why allow a team that is beaten a fucking inch-- much less the mile the Celtics gave away?

Not to drive the point home more than I should, but after Leon Powe's dunk and subsequent timeout, who in that place didn't know the Lakers were going to be pissed and come out with a purpose? It's the Finals. If I'm on the Celtics, the first thing out of my mouth is "Don't let up." I just say that over and over. I don't mention the score. I don't feel comfortable. I tell my fellow men that the most dangerous player in basketball is hurting and we want to bury him. I want him dead. I want his family dead. I want his entire lineage destroyed. Here. Tonight. His legacy should have the imprint of our balls on it right fucking now. Seriously.

Instead, the Celts decided to walk the ball up the floor, relax, try horrible lobs and back in/ fade away against guys susceptible to the drive all night. They decided to settle for bad fades with five left on the shot clock after NOT moving the ball. Then, when the energy level depleted and the momentum changed, the ball movement was moot. The deflections came, the panic came and the offense hung from the same ropes supporting the banners in the ceiling.

For a championship-caliber team, this one seems to hate winning. It's still up in the air, fellas. If it's hard to close with a 25 point lead, how hard will it be to do so in LA without the crowd, the calls and the camaraderie? This ain't baseball, and this is a team desperately searching for a closer and Paul Pierce needs help at the end of games.

Now, the raves:

Paul Pierce-- Jesus, even when he makes the big errors-- like the pass that opened up Radmonovich for the travel-dunk-- he makes up for them by blocking a game-altering three with little time left. HUGE PLAY.

Posey-- Nothing but hustle from a man that seemed lost in Detroit.

Rondo-- Inexplicably benched form time to time for man who can't dribble anymore, much less be trusted to run an effective offense, yet he comes in and makes plays when the game is on the line.

Ray Allen-- Shooting like a good shooter again, i.e. using shot selection. You don't have to jack up every open three-- if you aren't comfortable, pass the ball. I love that from him the last few games.

Team Defense-- This is why I love non-break basketball. I like the aforemetioned frustration in basketball-- when a defense (and not coaching) beats a team, it is BASKETBALL. The players decisions are winning and losing a game, not some outsider influence (refs, coaching, slow-down offense WITH SEVEN MINUTES LEFT FOR CHRIST'S SAKE). It's sport at it's peak. When the Celtics were outclassing the Lakers in the third, I got numerous texts and commentary from the guys in the same room saying the same thing: that was a perfect run. They did everything right. it was the purest form of ball-- a mix of athleticism, fundamentals (the SPACING ON THE FLOOR ON BOTH ENDS WAS PERFECT) and luck. It was the culmination of playing the right guys at the right time and not fucking with it. No one was complaining that it was a blowout or saying that the series is boring. They were excited that a team was making an entire quarter-plus look like a work of art. The defense did most of the work. it opened up the offense to operate on every level and allowed Leon Powe to finally get the minutes and attention he deserved.

Leon Powe-- "This was his national coming-out party." --Stan.
For people that understood his potential, Leon Powe delivered the perfect blow to this year's frustrations. With wins come mediocrity. Trust me on this one. When a season goes this well, the team looks away from what worked well and tries to get everyone in on the effort. Thus, this explains the fact that Glen Davis, for awhile, got more important minutes than Leon Powe. Powe deserves 15-20 a game relieving at the 3 and 4 spots and not for his off-the-court storyline. He deserves it because he can punish bench guys, small 3s and slow 4s in the same motion. Davis, and the cavalcade of bench dudes CANNOT. I like Big baby, but Powe is worlds above him. Maybe now, the basketball world gets that. Maybe Doc gets it too (and won't bench him for his lackluster play in the last few minutes like he did after the last five games of the regular season).

Eddie House-- I feel for him. Cassell is damn-near ruining this team in important stretches and he continues to hug and cheer and want. If I'm him, I hold my own press conference and just play tape of Cassell getting blocked by Vujacic (he of the constant complaining-- what a fucktoad). Then I say, "This is five minutes a quarter. Think about it," throw the mic into the feedback position and walk the fuck out with my cock on full display into the bay of cameras. instead, he continues to hug and cheer and want. Good on him. He's still helping.

Tonight, to be sure, the C's had it all, gave it away and then earned it back. That shit won't fly in LA. Not even to steal one. Pierce said they needed to learn a lesson from the fourth quarter. I hope they did, otherwise, they are coming back to Boston down 3-2 against the MVP. Not a good time. I just hope lessons learned translate well, instead of turning into the potential for disaster. Two more, fellas. Two more.

"Don't let up." In such a simple game, the quest for perfection is fleeting, but the ideal of basketball is not. Leon Powe showed us that in Game Two the same way Pierce did in Game One. So simple, to win. So very, very simple.

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.