The Fall of Troy

Well, perhaps that title is a slight overstatement.

It remains a distant possibility that USC will finish this season with 11 wins, a Pac-10 title, and a trip to the Rose Bowl, a combination that represents the least that they have accomplished in each of the past seven seasons. They control their own destiny in the first category but the latter two are out of their hands. Two teams sit ahead of them in the Pac-10 standings: 3-1 Arizona and 4-0 Oregon, who crushed them Saturday night in Eugene by a score of 47-20. Even if SC runs the table from here on out (including beating the #20 ranked Wildcats in the season finale), it would still take a miraculous collapse by an excellent Ducks team (ranked #10 and sure to rise) for them to secure an eighth straight league title. And without that automatic trigger for a Pasadena appearance, SC could find themselves left out of a BCS bowl game for the first time since 2001.

But I don't even think that was the most damage done last night. It's one thing to have a season that doesn't live up to your lofty expectations even though you're still going to finish it with double-digit wins; it's another thing to have a season in which you lose your mystique. I think that's what Saturday night's loss may have done, and done for good. In the Carroll era, during which they are now 94-17, it is only the second time that they have lost by double-digits and the other defeat was by 11 points to Notre Dame in 2001 - Pete's very first year here! Even more shocking, since 2002 they are 88-11 and last night was the first time they have lost by more than a single touchdown!

In other words, even when you beat them, which was seldom, you barely did beat them. To use a (now obsolete) Halloween reference, they were like Jason or Freddy Kruger, always right there, always spooking you out, which allowed them to maintain their aura of invincibility even in the event of rare defeat. When you nudged them it was a fluke and you knew it. So not only did they have the best and most respected program in college football, the one spoken of in the most reverential tones, they had the most frightening. They were the team that, with a few breaks here and there, could have been on a triple-digit number winning streak, the team that was competitive in literally every game, the team with the startling win-loss record exceeded only by the shock caused by a deeper look at their game-by-game results.

That's all over now. USC lost by 27 points to Oregon - the worst loss by a Trojans team since 1997. They gave up 47 points - the most they have allowed since 1996. They allowed 391 yards on the ground, the most since the 1977 Bluebonet Bowl against Texas A&M. They allowed 613 total yards, the second most in team history, behind the the 623 they gave up to Notre Dame in 1946.

What the hell happened? Well, I can't imagine that Oregon has more talent than USC, or even as much talent, but clearly the gap has closed in that department. The truth is, while this SC team is likely still the deepest and most gifted in the country, they're probably a little less talented than they've been in recent years. If they were ever going to lose their grip on the conference, it was probably going to be this year. And if they were ever going to suffer a lopsided loss, this was the ideal night for it to happen, with a freshman quarterback (Matt Barkley, who played well statistically but couldn't lead the Trojans offense in keeping up with Oregon's pace in the second half the way that, say, Mark Sanchez probably would have), without their money running back (Stafon Johnson), without their stud tight end (Anthony McCoy), on the road in a raucous environment (Autzen Stadium) against just the right team to hand it to them (a terrific Ducks team playing better than anyone in the country). It was shocking to witness - after all, this just doesn't happen to USC, they don't get run off the field - but in retrospect maybe it's not as surprising as it seemed.

What happened? They just got their asses kicked, all across the board, it was bound to happen at some point and this was that point. Now they've lost that distinct air that surrounded them, and once that's gone it's hard to get back. Are they still the best program in the country? Yes. Are they still the same program that they were before Saturday night? No. They're just like everybody else now. So what happened last night wasn't just a loss; in one respect, it was the end of an era.

And even a trip to the Holiday Bowl beats that.

Kobe Still Lakers Main Attraction to Me

I'm sure all of you out there who have NBA TV watched the L.A. Lakers begin training camp last week. It was the start of Kobe Bryant's 14th. He is 31 years old now, which for your typical athlete is still not that old. It's older certainly, definitely not a kid anymore, but it is an age that indicates an athlete is still in their prime (if nearing the end of it). But it's not really the age with someone like Bryant, it's the years served and the mileage, and there is nothing even remotely young about our Mamba in those two categories. I'm not going to go into any further detail about it, you already know the deal. I'm not breaking any new ground here. Kobe Bryant has reached the point in his basketball career when he could start falling off. It's been well documented. In basketball years, he is about 34 years old, and that is old no matter how you look at it.

Bryant had a very quiet summer following the winning of his fourth championship, and it carried over into the start of camp. The Lakers held media day last Tuesday, and most of the press' attention centered around the debut of highly controversial off-season acquisition Ron Artest and the newly wed Mr. Khloe Kardashian, Lamar Odom. But to me, Kobe is still the most interesting person on the team. Sure, I want to see how Artest fits in, what impact Lamar's new union plays on the team, what kind of year Andrew Bynum has (will he come off the bench?), and what happens with the point guard situation (can Jordan Farmar overtake Derek Fisher for the starting gig?). But none of those things intrigue me as much aswhat I consider the great theater of watching the "old" master Kobe as he tries to outsmart the onset of decline. I want to see what new tricks he pulls out from under his sleeve as his legs accumulate more and more games and minutes and the wear and tear tries to trip him up from behind (like Bruce Bowen used to).

He broke out a couple of new methods last year, aimed at preserving his body both short-term and long. Blessed with the most talented supporting cast in the league, Bryant, having reached his 13th year, seemed intent on coasting (relatively speaking, of course) his way through the regular season in a calculated effort to save his body for the playoffs. Then Andrew Bynum went down again and his workload was increased, but by that point it had become evident that Kobe realized he needed to make adjustments. Step two of the conservation plan involved Bryant cutting back greatly on his slashing and transforming himself into a virtuoso primary jump shooter - a move that represented not only a desire to reduce the stress on his legs and body but, as the late, great David Halberstam once put it in praising a similar change by Michael Jordan at the end of his run with the Bulls, "a very smart player's concession to the changes in his body wrought by time." Indeed, Bryant's hops and first step are not what they used to be.

But what alterations will Bryant make next? He already made one. Kobe tempered his legendary work ethic greatly this off-season, barely picking up a basketball until the start of September. Then last week, Dime magazine's online site posted recent video of Kobe in Houston, working out with with the legendary Hakeem Olajuwon. Yep, a two guard trying to learn post moves from the center with the best set of post moves in league history. It's another page out of MJ's book, but while Mike put on muscle as he got older and developed more of a power post-up game in his latter years with Chicago, Kobe seems to be going at it in a slightly different direction, opting instead to keep his body more lean and rely more on sublime footwork and finesse (although of course MJ had textbook footwork as well - remember kids, it starts with the fundamentals).

Last season Bryant saw a reduction in minutes; at 36.1 per contest he had his lowest average in that department since 1999, when he was 20. And yet, at the end of the regular year L.A. went on an eight-game road trip in which Bryant played as poorly as I have ever seen him play for a sustained stretch. He was exhausted, you could tell. And he showed the signs of fatigue in the conference finals against Denver, a fact that made his stellar performance in the series the most impressive showing of his career (as he fought through the weariness to average a 34-6-6 on 48 percent shooting).

I do not question whether or not Bryant will maintain his dominance this year; I am almost certain he will. He has proven it foolish to doubt him, so that is not where the intrigue lies. No, the intrigue lies in witnessing the means by which Kobe Bryant will continue to succeed, and I can't think of anything about this Lakers team that could be more absorbing than that.

The Legend of Matt Barkley Begins

I have no real audience, so I am speaking only to you random people who just happened to come across this via a search engine and my kindhearted friends on Facebook who clicked on the link in my status updates. But I feel like this is necessary, if only because you same people might click on the link I have posted on the sidebar to the right, to the Sporting News' new boxing/MMA blog The Rumble, where I will be posting three times a week.

It's headed by experienced boxing writer Dave Larzelere, a presence on this here internet through his work at HBO Boxing, TSN, and his blog, No Mas. He's put together a nice roster of writers and I'm just grateful and excited he asked me to join. I've been waiting for an opportunity like this for some time now. We actually started last week, and while we have been experiencing some technical difficulties the past couple of days that have slowed our output, there is already some quality material up that should encourage you to become a regular trafficker.

I already posted here rather infrequently, and now it will become even more infrequent, but there are some things for which I must be on the record and last night's SC-OSU game is one of them.

The Trojans defeated the Buckeyes in Columbus Saturday night, in front of the largest crowd in the history of the Horseshoe and one of the most raucous fan bases you will ever hear. The final score was 18-15, USC embarking on a dramatic game-winning drive that we will one day remember as the beginning of true freshman quarterback Matt Barkley's legend. It was setting up that way the whole night: the Buckeyes were fired up following last season's thrashing at the hands of Southern Cal and were looking for revenge. Their defense played extremely well, thwarting USC's vaunted rushing attack about as well as it can be thwarted. Barkley was not playing well at all, a kid showing his inexperience in his first massive road game. But SC's defense was stout as well, ensuring that the Trojans would have a chance to win the game.

The plot was developed: High school phenom and true freshman starting quarterback for imperial USC goes to Columbus to take on #8 Ohio State in only his second game ever and first road outing. The place is jam-packed and deafening with noise. He struggles for the first 52 minutes before leading the Trojans to a come from behind victory with an epic six minute final drive.

I could see it coming. Pete Carroll has had some high profile quarterbacks come through his incredible football program over the past nine years - couple Heisman trophy winners, a few top-10 NFL draft picks - but Barkley may have arrived with the most expectations. Not right away, of course. Down the line. But an injury to redshirt sophomore Aaron Corp, the quarterback he was competing with for the starting job, nudged him into a historic position: the first true freshman signal caller to start an opener for the Trojans.

That happened last week, when he went 15-19 for 233 yards and a score in SC's 56-3 win over San Jose State. All things considered it was a fine performance, even against such wholly over-matched competition and while not really having to do anything. As I expressed to my barber Bernie, anyone could do what Barkley did last week. You'd have to be mentally challenged not to be able to hand off to that gifted plethora of running backs and make those simple passes to those big, talented receivers. Even when Barkley threw, it was the receivers who were doing all the work. He didn't have to make any plays. That's the way Carroll has always used his quarterbacks - for the most part, all he asks them to do is get the ball to the vast pool of playmakers that they have been surrounded with - but things have been super-simplified with this kid (and understandably so).

This Saturday those successes were few and far between. And to be accurate, that final drive was really a showcase of the Trojan ground game than it was anything else: the big boys up front who compose yet another world-class offensive line in the Carroll era and tailbacks Joe McKnight, who did the heavy lifting, and Stafon Johnson, who ran in the winning touchdown.

But Barkley made two key passes: one to McKnight and another to tight end Anthony McCoy to garner consecutive first downs. SC was backed up near their own end zone when the drive began, and he led them to victory while displaying striking composure. This kid looks like he came right from the beach and he is cool. There's just something about his calmness that makes it obvious why he is thought so special.

He will have many more special moments in his college career and beyond, but I have a feeling this will go down as the defining one.

Could Manny Pacquiao Beat Me Up?

I spent my Saturday at L.A. Live, bowling at the "Lucky Strike" and playing games at the ESPN Zone (before closing out the night by being, ahem, entertained by some beautiful ladies at this fine establishment near L.A.X., if you follow me), all in honor of my cousin's 18th birthday/going away to college. While I was there a 3-on-3 tournament was being held, as part of a three-day event being sponsored by the Lakers and partaken by celebrities and common men alike. When I arrived they were warming up for a game, and right there on the court in front of me were two of my favorite people whom I don't know: the talented, underutilized (and, for his performance as Avon Barksdale on The Wire, underappreciated) actor Wood Harris, and the great welterweight champion Shane Mosley. Harris was tall and slim, as I would have expected. It was the tiny Mosley who's size surprised me. It's one thing to know how small most of these welterweight and lower weight class fighters are. It's another thing to see it in person. Shane Mosley is a fighting machine, a bad, bad man. He's also a virtual pip squeak. His arms looked skinny and weak and he didn't even seem the 5'9" he's listed at. He was just puny. Having seen him in the flesh I find it hard to fathom how someone so small could beat people up for a living. I've eaten burrito's from Mexican restaurants that were bigger than Shane Mosley.

And to think, Manny Pacquiao is even smaller! I bring this up only because Pacman's frightening destruction of Ricky Hatton in May got me and my father to wondering if the little Filipino was so bad a dude that he could take out a bouncer-sized fellow like myself, a curiosity inspired by the sheer disparity in dimensions. I am a 6'2", 325 lb sportswriter in the body of a nose tackle. Manny is 5'6 1/2" and 140-ish. The consensus is that size does matter in a fight, in fact that it is the most important factor. But then again, as the saying goes, speed kills. So, who would win this imaginary squabble?

Before we consider that question any further, I think first I should tell you a few things about myself. I am 21 years old. I have never been in a fight. I have "gone body" in playful contests of machismo with friends but I have never been punched in the face or had anyone swing in that direction. I have had those same buddies I sparred with tell me that my punches do not hurt, and that I punch lazily. But I have also had other people tell me that my punches do hurt, that I am a very hard puncher. But in recent times I have become quite a fan of the sweet science, to the point that I even dropped some coinage on a punching bag. It's one thing to just be big; it's another thing to be big and know how to throw a punch. Whereas before - when I was in high school and middle school and engaging in these friendly battles - I was the former, these days I am closer to the latter, having learned much better how to throw a blow, and furthermore having practiced putting together combination's on my standing Everlast.

The scenario my father initially proposed went like this: Say I was in a liquor store, prepared to make my purchase, and I saw Manny standing in line ahead of me and decided that I was just going to walk up, nudge the little fella out of the way, and cut in front of him - and Manny took offense to this act of disrespect, decided that he would correct it the old fashioned way, and just swung on me. Could he knock me out? Could I take his best shot? We wondered about the left hook he deployed to render the Hitman unconscious - would it have the same effect on me? Almost certainly no, we decided. I am twice Hatton's size, so it is almost guaranteed that I would withstand it much more effectively. But could he knock me down with a punch? Could he rock the big guy off of his feet? Or would I merely shake it off and proceed to manhandle the southpaw slugger?

And what if we doubled up? I'm not talking about Manny just taking a swing at me now, I'm speaking about us both actually raising our fists and assuming the fighting position, going toe-to-toe, shooting the fair the one, as it is called in some circles. There is no doubt that, if I were able to catch Manny, to land a fairly clean shot, I could knock him out. I don't care if he is the pound-for-pound champ, or that Bert Sugar called him one of the 20 best boxers ever following his defeat of Hatton - he's still as small as he is and I'm still as big as I am. But that's a big part of the equation, though: Could I find him? Would I be too slow to locate such an elusive and well-trained target, a man for whom it is only instinct to avoid the punch of another man? Would he pepper my face with 18 consecutive punches before I even knew what was hitting me?

I think my best bet would be to just let go on him, to just swing away on him with anger and aggression, to impose my size on him and overwhelm him with it until the best he could do is just cover up, to try and shield himself from the avalanche. Because remember, not only do I outweigh by almost 200 pounds, but I'm taller than him by half-a-foot. So those punches would be reigning down on him and coming at him from all angles.

We'll never know the answer, obviously - unless, of course, I challenge Pac to a fight when I make my planned trip to the Wild Card Gym in Hollywood (the boxing hot spot and residence of Manny's training camps owned by his trainer, Freddie Roach) once he begins preparing for his November clash with Miguel Cotto in Las Vegas, and he accepts my invitation. All I know is that after seeing the diminutive Sugar Shane at L.A Live this past weekend, I remember thinking to myself, "There's no way he could take me." And as I said, Manny is smaller than Shane. Actually, I think that answers the question. At least for me it does.

Is Jim Thome the Signature Slugger of His Era?

Before you read this any further, click here. Link opens up in a new window, and what you will find is a list of the top 1,000-plus home run hitters in baseball history. But just focus on the top 20. Out of all of the names in that group, ask yourself this question: Which one seems like it doesn't belong?

If you think like I do, the answer to that query is Jim Thome, by a mile. When I learned recently that Thome was only one home run behind Reggie Jackson for 12th all-time, I was thrown for a loop. It's not that I was unaware that Thome had activated the "mandatory Hall-of-Famer indicator" by locating the bleachers more than 500 times in his career; it's that one can't help but be caught off guard by the discovery that JIM THOME has one less career bomb than MR. FREAKIN' OCTOBER himself!!! It put Thome's career in perspective for me, and by doing so it at the same time caused me to consider him in a historical sense for the first time in my life, and really and truly to pay him more mind than I ever had before, period.

I have been watching baseball and grasping it since I was at least 8; as a young boy I was a student of the game. There was nothing I cherished more or spent more time focusing on. And yet in all these years, I don't really remember even thinking about Thome for more than maybe two seconds at a time, and it was rare when I thought of him at all. He was just so...blah. He was never really a superstar, and he never captured my imagination, or anyone else's.

Reggie's name and reputation put in relation to Thome provided some context for Jim's career acheivements and almost alarmed me to his existence. And so of course the two important numbers in the matter - 12 and 562, the number of homers he has accumulated - startled me as well; they both seem too high for him. It's like I knew he was in some exclusive company, while at the same time not being cognizant of the fact.

The reasons I have stated for this go hand in hand: In comparison to other similarly statistically significant players, I rarely thought of Thome. Why? Because he never felt similarly significant to me. There were never any elements of heroism to Thome, none of the grace, majesty, or superhuman powers possessed by his contemporaries; it's more like all he was was a guy who could hit a bunch of inconspicuous homers. On the other hand, Junior, Bonds, and A-Rod were divinely gifted; McGwire and Sosa were both like wood-wielding versions of Hercules; Manny was a goofy hitting savant; somehow even Palmeiro ended up seeming more important and intriguing than Thome, probably because of his connection to the steroids scandal.

Which brings us to another, also mind-boggling point: Isn't it reasonable to say that, considering how his peers are viewed, Thome could one day be considered the premiere home run hitter of his time? The majority of his peers are stigmatized, permanently tainted by their attachment to performance enhancers, their achievements accompanied by an asterisk.

And so here Thome stands, his name never brought up in any such conversations. Griffey has hit more dingers, but in my opinion his case is hurt by the time he missed to injury during what should have been his prime years; the relative lack of production there is glaring. Thome has been consistent, and is still going relatively strong, 21 bombs so far this season at age 39. Albert Pujols will pass him eventually, but that time is fairly far away, and you could even argue that Pujols will eventually wind up belonging to another era altogether.

And sure, this idea is the result of projecting in a way that, given the realities of what we have seen, should not be practiced. Thome could be outed as a name on the infamous '03 list, or otherwise linked to steroids or PED's, at any moment and no one would be surprised. But as it stands, Thome will go down as a big, homegrown mid-west dude who could always hit a baseball, and hit it far. Had things been different he might have become a defensive end for the Browns, Eagles, and Bears.

I don't know if I would necessarily agree with Thome earning such a lofty distinction - I lean towards the opinion that the numbers are what they are, the era was what it was, and that's that. But based on the prevailing logic of Baseball America, my proposal seems to make sense. Only, of course, it doesn't, for the same reason that I've never before heard the idea floated around or that Thome is breathing down Reggie Jackson's neck.

I'm not the only one who doesn't think of Jim Thome that way.

Don't You Know His Name?

On September 19th in Las Vegas, Floyd Mayweather Jr., boxing's returning pound-for-pound titan, will square off against the rich pugilistic history of Mexico's current pride and joy, Juan Manuel Marquez, himself considered one of the top three fighters in the sport regardless of weight class. The bout will take place at a catch weight of 143-144 pounds, which is 8-9 pounds north of the 135-pound lightweight limit Marquez fought at in his last match, a knockout victory over young Juan Diaz. Beyond the questions that arise any time a fighter moves up in weight, Marquez will have to do so against a true 147-pounder who once looked impressive in beating a still game Oscar de la Hoya at 154 pounds and remains unbeaten through 39 professional fights. Such a mountain to climb has understandably cast Marquez into the role of underdog. But more than that I feel that he is being treated as an afterthought, and that is a notion that I do not comprehend.

As I have continued my deep foray into boxing over the past two years, Marquez has become one of my three favorite fighters. Once someone I believed to be a refreshing dose of comedy and entertainment, in his comeback and promotion for the upcoming bout with Marquez, Mayweather has come off as just plain angry and unlikable, lashing out at everyone in a way that has made me lose some affinity for him and realize why so many people want to see him lose. With that being said he is a brilliant ring surgeon and a superb athlete, and I cannot help but enjoy his displays of mastery and superiority in the ring. Furthermore, I suppose that it will only take one charismatic appearance from him on the upcoming "24/7" for me to return completely to his corner.

There is nothing to dislike about Manny Pacquiao, for he is a polite and humble sportsman and gentleman, while at the same time being nothing less than a killer between the ropes. He seems to me to be a shining example of a great athlete in his prime. His body looks flawless, defined by muscle with seemingly no trace of fat, and it has only looked better and stronger as he has gone on to the larger weights. He is a smart and versatile fighter now, all the flaws of his youth corrected by Coach Roach and the gift of experience. He is a lean, mean fighting machine and deserving of his current distinction as the top pound-for-pound boxer in the game.

In the shadows lurks Marquez. Mayweather and Pacquiao are the two biggest draws in the sport; Marquez exists in mainstream anonymity. I suppose it is because while Floyd is a character and Manny is spectacular (Floyd is spectacular too but in a much more boring way to most), all there is to Marquez is guts and technique. But those two traits matter much to me, which is why I enjoy watching Marquez so much.

He has been involved in two of my favorite fights to watch on YouTube - his first of two fights against Pacquiao and the fight against Diaz. In the former he recovered from three knockdowns in the first round and managed to salvage a draw by adjusting before the start of the second and proceeding to apply his boxing acumen. In the latter he capped off what Jim Lampley called his "patented mid-round rush" by knocking Diaz down in the ninth round with a barrage of punches, then finishing him off seconds later by going to the body to set up the closing uppercut. Diaz fell to the canvas again and the fight was immediately called to a halt, the professionalism exhibited by Marquez as he went in for the kill worthy of appreciation.

When I think of Marquez I think of the way Bill Simmons once pegged Jason Kidd in an ESPN the Mag installment of his "Reasons I Love Sports" column series. Simmons argues that in order for Kidd to make up for not being able to shoot, the rest of his game had to be perfect. Similarly, Marquez is, unlike his two P4P peers, not a particularly special athlete. He can, as they say, be hit, and he doesn't have strikingly fast hands or any other kind of eye-popping natural blessing. And yet he is able to compensate for his ordinary physical skills by being such an expert boxer and savvy veteran. A disciple of Boxing 101, he is an accurate counter-puncher who puts combination's together extremely well and possesses a textbook stance. Mentally, he is just as sharp as he is physically.

And so I think the question is, How can somebody like this be so overlooked heading into a fight against anybody, no matter what the circumstances? Someone so fundamentally sound with so much heart and determination and knowledge of his craft? A scientist with such a strong resume and impeccable reputation amongst boxing people? He has won championships in three divisions, defeated fellow Mexican legend Marco Antonio Barrera, deserved both decisions over Pacquiao in the opinion of some people and deserved the nod in their second fight in the opinion of more.

He is a well-respected champion who has earned his standing in the fight community, and yet the same people who tout him are the ones who give him no chance of winning this fight. I don't think he will win, either, as I said I understand that sentiment. But at the very least he has a fighting chance, and it should not be ignored.

Eminem Ethers Mariah Carey: It's Alive!

You know, it's funny. I was just thinking (for no real reason) about Michael Jordan's last game at Madison Square Garden, in 2003, when he was a slow, bulky, 40-year old small forward for the Washington Wizards who became incited by some smack talk from Knicks guard Shandon Anderson in the second quarter and proceeded to revert to vintage MJ destroy mode. Almost as if on cue, Jordan took over the game at will, scoring 19 points in the final 7 minutes of the period (he had 26 at the half and would finish the contest with a game-high 39) and reminding everyone that the aged warrior could still summon the legendary magic when properly provoked. It was one of the last great moments of an iconic career, and one of the few moments during Jordan's stint in Washington that made his comeback seem worthwhile.

That's what the new Eminem diss aimed at Mariah Carey and Nick Cannon, "The Warning," reminds me of. I enjoyed Eminem's last record, Relapse - he's a master lyricist, a genius of his craft, and the skillful writer/rhymer will always be my favorite type of hip-hop artist. Relapse, as the title indicates, is centered around the drug addiction that plagued him during his five year hiatus between albums. Beyond that, it's just the same antics he was up to seven years ago. It's repetitive and disappointing in that it doesn't show much growth by him as an artist, but it's still worth the listen, a chance to hear vivid storytelling by a man with a flow so agile and flexible and versatile and a mind so perversely brilliant. He's better on his worst day than pretty much anybody, and one of those rare rappers who will never fall off lyrically, no matter how old they get or how many years they put in the game (no small feat).

I don't think the Relapse version of Em represented him on his worst day, but it wasn't his best, and I think the reason was that he wasn't motivated. His legacy is etched in stone and he has nothing to prove at this point. The hunger wasn't there; for Eminem to be truly great he needs to be taking it personally, and I think that aspect was missing on this last album - not as much as it was on Encore, which I feel was his most lackluster offering, but still absent. He didn't seem angry on this record, more like he just wanted to vent.

Now, I think the animal is back.

When Little Nicky trashed him after he hit Mrs. Cannon below the belt on the Relapse cut "Bagpipes from Baghdad," Slim barely blinked, showing more signs that he had matured beyond the point of trying to kill somebody on a rap song. When Mariah released the impressive "Obsessed" and it became obvious that a female pop singer was aiming right at the head of one of the most dangerous emcees ever and he didn't respond in kind, I figured that the monster was dead. When she dressed up like him and portrayed him as a stalker in the video for the single and he didn't say anything right away my beliefs that the old Em was gone for good were only strengthened.

But thank goodness, my fears were misguided. Turns out I just needed to employ a little patience. In "The Warning," Em is as spiteful and vitriolic as ever - and at a level resembling his peak. This is his best single song since "Lose Yorself." Yep. It's that good. He kills the Cannons, especially, especially Mariah. He even splices soundbites of her from their time together and raps around it, an act which, besides merely adding to the quality of the diss, adds credibility to his claims that they were together and his threat that there is more damaging material where that came from. If this were a World War, the Cannons would be sending in their notice of surrender right now. He just dropped the atomic bomb. Best dis song since "Ether." The Good Doctor provides the beat. A poor one can ruin the work of a great wordsmith; Em is so vicious here that would be almost impossible in this instance, but it's a moot point anyway, as Andre supplies the perfect wave for Marshall to ride. Perfect. That's the optimum word to describe this track. It's just perfect.

At one point he reminds Mariah, "This is what the fuck I do." Glad to see that is still true. The inspiration is back. The monster has returned. It's like MJ at MSG that last time, all over again.

T.O. Is Way Too Big For Buffalo

I was watching the second episode of VH1's T.O. show, "The T.O. Show," in which Terrell Owens was shown arriving in his new city of employment for the first time, and though much has been made of it already, the reaction that he has received from the Buffalo faithful can't be stated enough. He's a God, a hero, Pacquiao in the Philippines, a celebrity to easily starstruck inhabitants that feel honored and privileged and almost blessed to get to call him their own. Americans usually aren't so affected by big shots, because we are so used to them, and I think that just goes to show how little the small market of Buffalo has going for it. All the fun stuff goes on in New York, where the Giants and Jets roam, garnering all of the attention and casting the Bills into a shadow that they haven't been able to shake in sixteen years. In 1993 the Bills made the last of their four consecutive trips to the Super Bowl, so obviously they have had some great teams, and once upon a time they employed the services of Orenthal James Simpson, before he was the biggest pariah in modern American pop culture. But it's been pretty boring there for a while now: There's nothing to do, the beloved football team hasn't done much to bring excitement, and their biggest star has been Drew Bledsoe. Drew Bledsoe!!! T.O. owns Drew Bledsoe!!! Drew is one of his most notable victims!!! Everybody knows that!!!

And it is that last part, the fact that everywhere he goes Terrell Owens leaves a trail of destruction, wreckage all over the place in his wake, that makes the Buffalo experiment so special. Not only do we know it's coming, the pain T.O. brings to the teams he's on, but this is his greatest platform yet. Let me reiterate: Terrell Owens in Buffalo? Are you kidding me? There hasn't been that much of a mismatch since Super Bowl XX. T.O. is way too big for Buffalo. I don't know how good this team will be, but if Bills fans will be satisfied with just a show, they're going to get it.

There isn't anyone around to even remotely challenge his star power or the force of his personality. If T.O. dominated San Francisco, with Mooch and Garcia, and Philly, with Reid and McNabb, and America's team, with a celebrity like Romo, what is he capable of on the Bills, the NFL's everyman team? Dick Jauron, Trent Edwards, Lee Evans - Marshawn Lynch has had his run-ins with the law and is the closest thing they have to a star or a character - his flowing dreads, iced-out grill, and reckless running style creates a persona that I think the kids would describe as "hyphy" - but he pales in comparison to the larger-than-life quality Owens possesses.

The conflict, of course, will come between Owens and the men he seems to be preternaturally opposed to - coaches and quarterbacks (and tight ends who are best friends with the quarterback). He's going to have a field day with Jauron and Edwards, two of the most mellow and humble guys you'll meet. Can you imagine the mental anguish he is going to inflict on those two gentlemen?

I really don't mean to bash T.O. He has been a great player for a long time, he's easily one of the five best receivers that has ever played the game, and if he doesn't make the Hall-of-Fame on the first ballot (which wouldn't surprise me at all, considering his checkered past and the God-like tendencies of the Canton voters), I will absolutely scream and shout about the injustices of it all. But this is the reality of the Buffalo situation, and I'm only speaking about an inevitability.

Or am I?

T.O. signed a one-year deal with the Bills, and it's safe to say that this will be his last shot. Owens will be 36 in December, and while he was still a very productive player last year (69 catches for 1052 yards and 10 touchdowns, even with Tony Romo missing three games with a broken digit and being substituted for by a decrepit Brad Johnson), the effects of the aging process were nonetheless evident, as he was able to manage only two games of 100-plus yards and showed an inability to create the same separation against defensive backs that he did in his prime. There was a time when he was so good, you had to take the good with the bad, but that time is fading rapidly.

There is nothing wrong with Owens descending, obviously, that is what is supposed to happen to a player of his seniority. As Mark Jackson likes to say, Father Time is undefeated (and as I like to say, Father Time is undefeated against those who don't use HGH). But what really hurts Owens is the particular business he's a part of, the NFL the most cutthroat sports league in existence, no feeling for the aging player or any player, and in this case we have an aging player who's antics have been great enough and damaging enough that they have managed to overshadow one of the best careers any skill position player has ever had. In other words, this is his last strike.

But does T.O. realize this? Maybe he does. Owens is crazy, but most crazy people are not stupid. In fact, many of them are quite intelligent. And if T.O. is even a little smart, then he'll be on his best behavior in Buffalo this season, if only because he has no choice but to be.

In that sense, the thought of Owens not causing mayhem is more intriguing than the likelihood that he does. Because what is more captivating to behold: that which you have witnessed so many times you have come to expect it, or that which you have never seen before?

Lakers About To Ruin A Perfect Thing

HBO has Marty Scorcese's brilliant look at the Las Vegas mob during the 1980s, "Casino," in their rotation and On Demand right now. One of my favorite parts is at the start of the movie, when Joe Pesci's character tells us how the story finishes. "Matter of fact, nobody knew all the details. But it should've been perfect. I mean, he (casino manager Sam "Ace" Rothstein, played by De Niro) had me, Nicky Santoro, his best friend, watching his (back). And he had Ginger, the woman he loved, on his arm. But in the end, we (messed) it all up. It should've been so sweet, too." They had what my man Shoefly would call "the golden ticket," and by their own foolish actions allowed it to escape their possession. In its own way, it's your classic tale of squandered paradise.

When I think of this Lakers off-season, I think of those lines from Nicky and what the movie represented, the blown opportunity of a lifetime. Coming off of this season's championship, L.A. had the formula for a potential dynasty, a magic potion that, once acquired, must be held onto for dear life. In the Lakers case, it was a perfect mix of youth, experience, chemistry, talent, and pecking order; all they had to do was keep it together and let it continue to grow. In other words, they needed to retain the services of unrestricted free agents Trevor Ariza and especially Lamar Odom this summer, the latter ballplayer the X-factor both on the court and during this critical off-season. They couldn't strike a deal with Ariza so they snatched up Ron Artest instead, Trevor winding up taking the same money from Houston that he would have gotten from them. High-risk, high-reward move: Ariza was a flawless fit for this club and a much safer investment, but if Ronnie works out he gives them a higher ceiling, a burly swing-man to defend the Melo's and King James' of the universe and just more punch overall, with everybody stacking up this summer for next season's league holy war.

But here's the thing: Without Lamar, it doesn't make a difference. To have a sixth man like that, a big man with that many skills who could start for damn near any other in basketball and is that unselfish who operates so well in your specialized system - he's what puts them over the top, I think, a luxury other teams can only dream of. Re-signing Ariza would have been a moot point in the event that he left; Ronnie completely tamed and turned into the player he always should have been by Phil can't take them high enough to compensate for the loss of #7.

It's looking like they might lose him. A deal believed to be imminent is now an offer that has been pulled off the table, according to reports. L.A. is willing to give Odom three years at a bit more than $9 million annually, he and his agent want a five year contract worth $50 mil, and the two sides cannot come to terms. Why the Lakers aren't willing to give him the extra two years, I have no idea. Why a compromise hasn't been reached at $45 million over five years, the salary they will concede at the length he desires, is beyond me. He's been talking with Dallas and Miami, who can only offer him five years of mid-level money. Why he would consider working five years to make two million more dollars than he could earn for three, and opt to become a free agent at 32 rather than 34, makes no sense to me at all (unless it's just a weak negotiating ploy). Is he really being this difficult? It must be his agent, Jeff Schwartz, playing the devil as agents sometimes do. But isn't Lamar his boss? Finally, why don't the Lakers just give him what he wants? They have upped their offer more than a million dollars since negotiations began, and I suppose don't want to appear so weak as to cave in completely, but if that's the case then, to paraphrase Jay-Z, I guess they forgot what they came for. It's not my money and I know the economy is harsh, but isn't it worth an extra milli to keep this team intact? They're already deep in the luxury tax, right? What's another million dollars?

What I do understand is that the Lakers appear on the verge of blowing it big, stupidity getting in the way of the shrewdness that was used in building a roster that, health permitting, might have two championships instead of one. They couldn't afford to lose a key piece without replacing it, and Odom is Bynum Insurance that they cannot duplicate. They already spent their MLE, so they can forget about a lesser power forward like Big Baby, let alone a stud like David Lee.

The reason this all happened, this title and the awesome parade and the burgeoning titan, was because of the staunch commitment to winning. Money, ultimately, was not an issue. Now it is? Relative peanuts?

I picked up the commemorative '09 championship DVD Tuesday, first day of its release, a reminder of how sweet this season was. I hope Mitch Kupchak takes a look at a copy himself, I hope Lamar, who attended the premiere screening Monday night, pops it in his Samsung or whatever he uses one more time before it's too late and everyone affected is forced to sit up one day and lament how perfect it should've been.

Albert Pujols Amazes, But He's Also A Victim Of The Recent Past

Ryan Alberti pretty much already covered this topic, but I have to express it again, this time proving his point from an individual fan's perspective.

Albert Pujols trots casually around the base paths and into All-Star weekend on what one has to believe will be a professional highpoint for him. The mid-season festivities will take place in his baseball hometown of St. Louis, Mo. He will partake in the Home Run derby and the game, for which he was the leading vote-getter, a distinction he has never been more deserving of: Pujols is having the best season of a career filled with absolutely nothing but great ones, and I'm starting to wonder if its more than just a nickname, if he actually is a machine, if he truly is inhuman. Or if it is a little bit of something else, a persistent thought, the existence of which I am not responsible for.

Pujols flirts with the triple crown, leading the NL in homers and runs batted in whilst coming in third in batting average, attempting to become the first man to achieve that feat since Carl Yastrzemski did it for the Sawx in 1967, and the first NL player to do it since another Cardinal, Joe Medwick, pulled it off all the way back in 1937. But that is only a margin of the equation. It is his startling, all-around consistency with the bat that makes it seem as though he was built, not born, still a noun but a thing rather than a person. Now in his ninth season, Pujols has never batted below .314, hit fewer than 32 home runs, or driven in less than 103 rbi's. His career 162-game averages? .334/43/130. He has a lifetime OPS of 1.058, the highest of any right-handed hitter in history and fourth all-time behind Bambino, Ballgame, and Iron Horse. Barring some unforeseen happening, he will be awarded with a third MVP honor at the end of the campaign. And so, in this age, when I think of think of "The Machine," I think of two possibilities, of which there is no in-between: either I am watching the greatest hitter ever...or the other thing.

I think you know what the other thing is. Recent history has told us that if a baseball player seems too good to be true, he probably is. Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa performed an all-out assault on the record books in 1998, captivating a country, transcending the game as they bumped off Roger Maris (and Sosa would hit 60+ bombs two more times). It was only later that we realized they were doing it with the aid of enhancements. Some wondered if they were not witnessing the best player ever in Bonds, his output at the plate from '01 to '04 the most eye-popping since Babe Ruth, even though they were achieved during the stage of Bonds' career when he should have been in decline. Soon after, these years of Barry's would be stigmatized by the same kind of asterisk. Then we had Alex Rodriguez, the pure talent who was to bring purity back to the all-time home run mark, and Manny Ramirez, the autistic genius wood wielder, meet similar fates as fallen Gods of the diamond whose accomplishments are now tainted.

And now here's Pujols, ostensibly programmed to belt baseballs, but someone who, because of the realities of what we have seen, I have no choice but to be a little skeptical. Ten years ago, I'd have thought nothing of this, I'd have simply bowed; today I am still reverential but in the back of my mind I am, oh, I don't know, well, like I said, skeptical. You can't blame me. It sucks, and you can charge it to the game that rather than being able to just marvel at and enjoy someone hitting for average and power on such a startlingly consistent basis, I also must wonder if it is being done naturally.

"The Ariza Situation"

Trevor Ariza is gone now, no longer for me to worry about, but I still will think about him, for what could have been and what will be. I wish Ariza had been retained by the Lakers, obviously; he has a fan-friendly style, the city loved and embraced him, he was a perfect fit for the team, and he had his fingerprints all over this championship season. He knocked down open threes (48 percent in the playoffs), wreaked havoc on defense, and made plays with his athleticism in the open-court. Role players usually do the small things, the things that go unnoticed to the untrained eye (like another Lakers small forward who won championships, Rick Fox), but Ariza's contributions were striking, even if you sit aside those two momentous steals in the Denver series: There was rarely a time when you forgot he was on the court, which is perhaps the greatest compliment one can give him.

But with that being said, when news broke that he was leaning towards leaving the Lakers over hurt feelings, I was disappointed but not devastated. Ariza is a good player, but not an indispensable one: As Kenny Smith pointed out on TNT the night the Lakers won the championship (in discussing the upcoming free agent scenario surrounding Odom and Ariza), what, really, is the difference between Ariza and Mickael Pietrus? Or for that matter, I'll argue, Shane Battier, James Posey, or Bruce Bowen in his day? The Lakers probably don't win the championship without Ariza this year, but mostly because they traded Radmanovic during the season, leaving them with only one other small forward with a pulse (Walton) and an eternally struggling Vujacic, who lost the crunch-time minutes he thrived on to the returned and improved Ariza. Remember that they made the Finals last season virtually without Ariza, and may have won the whole damn 'chip with a healthy Bynum. You could have replaced him this year with any of the aforementioned defensive specializing/three-point shooting swing men, and they'd have been fine. Going forward, they could have spent that mid-level exception on Josh Childress, or Gerald Green, or Kleiza, or Marquis Daniels, or Quinton Ross, or Jamario Moon, or Rodney Carney, or Desmond Mason, or Keith Bogans, or Kareem Rush, or Matt Barnes, or Ime Udoka...see what I mean? I don't like any of those guys more than I like Ariza for this team, or even at all, but how much does it really matter? They all have their strengths as small forwards and they're all going to look better playing with Kobe Bryant.

Not to go all Simmons on you (not that there is anything wrong with that), but my dad argued otherwise, suggesting that the Lakers should've done whatever it took to keep Ariza around (among other things). In a move I rarely make, I brought up statistics, pointing out that Ariza averaged only nine points during the regular season and eleven in the playoffs, as a means of putting his virtual worth in perspective. My father shot back with the same argument I often make: basically, that stats are about context. He's right: I think basketball stats are totally subjective, that too much is made of them in a sport in which there is too much they do not account for. But I do not think they are meaningless, and in Trevor's case I think they pretty much are what they are. Roughly half of Ariza's value (his three point-shooting) is dictated by others: He feasts on the open threes made possible for him by the lack of defensive attention he receives on an offensive juggernaut featuring Kobe Bryant. Rarely does he create his own offense in the half court - occasionally he'll get chased off of the three point line and throw in an awkward runner or soar in for a dunk, but that's about it. The points he gets from his defense will still be there, but he is not a true offensive player.

He is a dependent offensive player; how would he do if he had to fend for himself? If this were a situation in which a gifted offensive player were just stuck in a numbers crunch, or down in the pecking order, then that would be one thing, and Ariza's value would be greater. You'd think much longer about just letting him go. But this is not that case, and we'll see how Ariza does now on a Houston squad that has been devastated by injuries and the departure of its most dependable player, the new Laker Artest.

With more minutes, more touches, and more opportunities to score, I suppose he will up his point average about five points, basing that estimate off of the fact that even Battier averaged 14 per in 40 minutes a game for the 2002 Grizzlies - and like those Grizzlies, Houston will suck. This is not a knock against Ariza - most of the players in the league are or would be useless on bad teams. Ariza excels in that he possesses the kind of intangibles that can help a team on the very verge become a champion, even more so than most other role players do. But he is simply not someone who will guarantee you a ring, if there is such an entity, or bring you a great deal closer by himself, so you don't have to kill yourself to make sure he goes or stays. Role players are generally interchangeable, even those of the highest order, like the talented Ariza. Instead of paying them more than they are worth, you can just sort their minutes out in a different way and/or or add someone else who can contribute roughly the same in overall quality. I understand that sometimes you need what you need and not something else, but no team is perfect, anyway.

What the Lakers will get is Artest, who can no longer guard quick guys off the dribble like Ariza could, but is a big, burly son of a gun who won't get thrown around by the Carmelo's of the world, like our lithe wings were in the conference finals this year. If there is anyone who can tame Artest's suspect shot selection and ego on offense and get him to become the player of his destiny it is Phil Jackson, in what will be the last great test of his career. If the Zenmaster can pull it off, if he can confine Artest within the boundaries of the triangle, L.A.'s ceiling becomes higher than it was with Ariza. Of course those are "if's" that will have to be paid great attention to, while we already knew what we had in Ariza. But I suspect that with teams like San Antonio armoring up this summer, in preparation for the ultimate battle, the Lakers may have needed to do some beefing up, too.

They have, and now we'll just have to wait and see what happens. With all of it.

Victor Ortiz Shocked By Tough Marcos Rena Maidana

There are few things in sports that can hijack your undivided attention more quickly or easily than drama inside a boxing ring. It is exhilarating and captivating and causes ones blood to rush. The announcers voice heightens, the crowd rises to its feet and fills the arena with the swelled noise of excitement, and your heart begins to beat with anticipation. To me the best of these moments occur when one man possesses the momentum and has his opponent in trouble, and it appears that a fight is nearing its final stages - when it looks like the referee could step in at any second to save a fighter from further abuse (Pacquiao-De la Hoya), when it looks like someone might not survive an early round (Pacquiao-Hatton), whenever a fighter senses he has his man and goes in for the kill (Mosley-Margarito), etc. These scenarios can come in a variety of ways. Another way to get me hooked? When two guys exchange knockdowns within mere seconds of each other. That's what happened during the first round of the Victor Ortiz-Marcos Rena Maidana clash that aired on HBO from the Staples Center Saturday night.

I missed the initial broadcast and figured I would watch the second showing halfheartedly, at the same time I was resuming construction of my more than year long ongoing drawing of Anton Chigurh. The first knockdown, a hard right hand by Ortiz that dropped Maidana along the ropes, caught the majority of my attention and may have caused me to lose grip of my pencil. The ensuing knockdown, a vicious straight right by Maidana delivered directly following his taking of the mandatory eight count, left me, as a fan, no choice but to close the cover of my 18"x24" sketchbook, put it in its resting place and take in the fireworks.

There were more explosions in the second round. Ortiz knocked Maidana down twice; following the first commentator Manny Steward remarked that it seemed to give Maidana a quitters disposition. But he would fight on, however discouraged he appeared, both heavy handed men throwing defense to the wayside in your classic slugfest, as I predicted in my mind how the fight would be determined: one man either scoring a knockout or getting knocked out himself. This outcome seemed not only inevitable but just a matter of time, as there had been four knockdowns, both men were considerably hard punchers, and neither one of them seemed particularly concerned with protecting themselves.

Then, it happened. Maidana had a huge fifth round, using a big right hand to open up a dangerous cut over Ortiz's right eye in the process. Following the round Ortiz's corner threatened to stop the fight if he kept leaving his hands down. He seemed badly buzzed and was asked if he wanted the fight to be stopped, to which he was noncommittal, and it looked as though the fight could be over. When the sixth began Maidana jumped all over him, beating and chasing him into a corner and knocking him down with a barrage of punches. This seemed to seal the deal in Ortiz's mind. He was now swelling badly under his left eye, and the referee had the ringside physician take a look at the cut. The doctor decided that it was too bad to continue and the bout was called to a halt, much to Ortiz's total contentment with the outcome, as it became conclusive that he was done mentally and wanted nothing more to do with this match.

Ironically, in the pre-fight lead-up of the telecast HBO showed a piece about Ortiz's difficult youth (he lived in a trailer home and he and his siblings were abandoned by his parents) and resiliency. Max Kellerman stated that there were no questions about Ortiz's heart and Steward made a point of repeatedly touting the character of both fighters, birthed by their troubling lives. But only one man showed character on this night: the Argentinean underdog Maidana, outgunned and fighting in front of his opponents hometown crowd but making the stand anyway, while Oriz gave up in a startling display of cowardice.

"Vicious" Victor was thought to be a rising name and potential superstar, a handsome and likable young man handpicked by Oscar De la Hoya to be the fresh-faced poster boy of Golden Boy Promotions. That may all change now; as Kellerman said after the fight Ortiz may have just made the kind of mistake he will live to regret.

Although I hope I am being completely fair to Victor. He is a pup, and as Max said he made a decision in a rough moment, and of course young people make bad decisions. And in their post-fight conversation Ortiz admitted to being overwhelmed by the L.A. crowd that was so behind him, and this was the first event he had headlined. Furthermore, I wonder if he was truly troubled by something greater - he told Max that he didn't want to go out on his shield, that he was young and didn't think he should be taking that kind of beating, that he wants to be able to speak well when he's older. Excuse me but, huh? Where did that come from? What happened to the hardened young man and what kind of fighter talks like that? I understand his rationale, it's the same reasoning that keeps me from going into boxing. But I don't understand it coming from him, before this night arguably the hottest young prospect in the game and participant in 26 professional fights. Very weird.

Ortiz was a quitter tonight, that's a fact, but there may be more to the story than that. I can only hope he is/was not experiencing something more pressing. If he really wants to continue with boxing I wish him success with that. If he does then I hope people are understanding, and that he is given a pass as a young person who made a mistake, and that he is allowed another opportunity to be a main attraction. Maybe one day what happened to him Saturday night will add to his narrative as a great fighter. If he doesn't want to further pursue this career then that is fine, too. All I know is that after the fight he said, "I have a lot of thinking to do," and it was the truest line spoken on the night and possibly the most concrete idea we'll take away from it.

A Tribute To Michael Jackson (1958-2009)

In the irony of ironies, I was just reading the short article in this week's Rolling Stone titled "Michael Jackson's Troubled Comeback," by Fred Goodman, which detailed the bumpy circumstances of the legend's upcoming batch of 50 concerts in London, a massive event which would curtail his financial and legal woes and announce his return to music prominence. Within an hour of putting down the magazine, he was pronounced dead. Surely in the wake of this much will be said about the changes in appearance, the court cases, and the general eccentricity that had come to define his life, as it should; it was all part of his legacy and made him even more famous. But it wasn't what made him an icon in the first place, and in my tribute piece I'd like to focus on the true nature of his legend, what made the man with the fancy white glove so newsworthy in the first place.

People always say "such and such was/is the Michael Jordan of their field," as a way of indicating that that individual was/is the absolute best and most transcendent in their given arena. And if that's the case, then Michael Jordan was the Michael Jackson of basketball. Jackson was the single greatest entertainer of all-time, perhaps the most influential man in pop music history, and still amongst the most famous men in the world. I'm only 21, so I wasn't even alive during his apex, but like everyone else will, I feel the need to pay my respects as Jackson's impact was so far-reaching it touched my generation, too, and will affect the ones after mines. I'm not writing this for any reason other than what he meant to his genre, what he meant to the game. He changed it. He reinvented the concept of the music video and almost single-handily helped spawn the success of MTV, turning these short clips into short cinema. The Thriller flick was simply a work of art and remains the gold standard for all that have come after it. His live performances and dance moves were revolutionary and his best songs remain the seminal work of any solo artist in pop music. He spearheaded the Jackson 5 phenomenon as a child, his career spanning four decades. But his influence will carry on forever, in every music video, dance sequence, and pop song, in Justin Timberlake, Usher, and every other similar performer in stark or subtle ways, in the dollars he generated and his overall body of work.

And even through all of the travails of his life and his increasingly infrequent activity he was still capable of delivering the goods. The video he did with Chris Tucker for "You Rocked My World" earlier this decade? He still had it, what he had - the distinct voice, the unmatched charisma, the megawatt star power - one can never lose, and he was going to prove that this summer. Now, he won't get the chance.

We all knew Farrah Fawcett was losing her battle with cancer and that Ed McMahon was an 85-year old man in the hospital, so those two deaths were saddening but not jolting. No one was prepared for this one. Michael Jackson was a young man and in seemingly fine health. I am not shocked, Jackson's life was always kind of tragic (and again I will leave those details to someone else), but obviously this is still something I was not ready for. All I had planned for tonight was to watch the NBA draft on ESPN, but that event seems trivial now. In my lifetime all I can compare this to is the death of Princess Di, which I was too young to understand the significance of at the time. This tragedy is different, but similar in its way, worldwide news of the highest order, and this time, I get it. And now I can say with regret that I know what it was like when Lennon died.

The header to that RS story read, "The singer's upcoming 50 concerts will make him rich again - if he holds up." But the writer didn't mean it in that way, and what a sad day it is.

Shaq Trade Thickens LeBron-Kobe Plot

They say terms have been agreed to. The Suns will send Shaquille O'Neal to the Cavaliers for Sasha Pavlovic and Ben Wallace in a move long speculated over and now a reality. The Suns get some cap space, dumping the Daddy's unreasonable contract ($20 million in its final year next year) in exchange for Pavlovic's partially guaranteed salary and a possible buyout of Wallace, who has expressed an interest in retirement and at the worst comes off the books in the basketball event that is next summer. They also receive the 46th pick in today's draft and $500,000 in cash. The Cavaliers get a 37-year old legend who probably played the last All-Star caliber ball of his career this past season. What do we get? Another Shaq-Kobe arc. Theirs is a story that will never die.

If Robert Horry was the master of finding himself aligned with the best big men in the game (Olajuwon, O'Neal, Duncan), then Shaq is the best ever at tagging up with the deadliest wing players going. Young Penny, Kobe, Wade, and now The King; the only cat he never hooked up with in his day was MJ himself. Having laced it up with those four guys is enough to make your career a noteworthy one. The Big Twitterer's latest partner is Kobe's new foremost rival, even more so than himself at this point, and I wonder how this trade will affect the supposed truce he has with his old teammate. Shaquille has always been known to tout his guy, even when he was playing with Kobe; will he be able to pronounce the supreme virtues of his new running mate without demeaning the greatness of his longtime nemesis? They're allegedly cool now, I've heard about it; but we all know that deep down hatred defines the true nature of their relationship, especially from Shaq's end. Can he resist his natural instinct to trash him, now that the obvious LeBron-Kobe pitched battle has been placed right in front of him and made a part of his life? The math says no. It's like he's been given one good reason.

I'm wracking my brain trying to come up with a precedent for this scenario, of a situation in which a partnership is formed between two people, they become forever linked by their alliance/success, have a bitter fallout, and it culminates in one of the agents of the former union committing the ultimate act of treachery by joining forces with his onetime colleague's current chief opponent. Betrayal, a theme that has been explored countless times throughout pop culture and history, and I cannot come up with a reference, a fact which I will kill myself for once Bill Simmons beats me to it. I'd compare it to Phil Jackson forming such a bond with Jordan through their six championships together, then helping Kobe close the gap on him in Los Angeles, but there is no bitterness between Jordan and Jackson.

I can only imagine what a Lakers-Cavs Finals would look like now, even juicier than before, double the hype and drama. Kobe, with a win, would vanquish both LeBron and Shaq in one swoop, the proverbial killing of two birds with one stone. Shaq, with a victory, would be able to find great peace in knowing that he lent a helping hand as LeBron pushed Kobe down the short waterfall and became the king in more than just name. Both of them would have the opportunity to move one ahead of the other on the all-time rings list, and go up 1-0 head-to-head in a seven-game series.

Will it happen either way? There's no guarantee we will ever see it take place, as Shaq will be a year older next season and without the aid of the wizards that are the Phoenix Suns medical staff. LeBron always made sure Big Z got his touches on the block and will surely feed the Big Dog, but it's just unlikely that Shaq will be as effective in the upcoming campaign as he was in '09. ESPN's Chris Broussard, who broke the story, suggests it will help Cleveland not get eaten alive by Dwight Howard again, but if they really wanted match up better with the Magic they should have made a move for a swingman, like Stephen Jackson. And of course the Spurs have become a become a problem again with their recent acquisition, something the Lakers will have to worry about.

We were let down this year, everyone's dream match-up squashed by Orlando, but I suppose at some point LeBron and Kobe will have to meet up to decide this thing, and it might as well happen while the Diesel is still around to thicken the narrative and multiply the plot times two.

Can the Other Lakers Get Some Love?

The Lakers win the NBA championship, and all anyone can talk about is how it's Kobe's fourth and first without Shaq, and Phil's 10th overall, surpassing Red, and where it ranks them all-time. Well, can a single coach and a single player win a championship by themselves? Of course not, it's a group effort, and so if no one else is going to do it then allow me this opportunity to thank assistant coaches Brian Shaw and Kurt Rambis, who will be heading their own squadrons in the near future, as well as longtime Zenmaster bench aids Frank Hamblen and Jim Cleamons. Tex Winter, wherever you are, get well soon, so you can enjoy this also. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, we salute you as well, you deserve much better than a job as a tutor and a seat behind the bench.

And the front office, I mean, how can Mitch Kupchak not get more praise? He built this team, he had a vision and the patience and fortitude to see it through despite great pressure to do otherwise. This guy knew what he was doing. And Dr. Buss...in a league in which few owners are willing to put winning above all else, you are one of the exceptions, okaying the Gasol trade even though you knew it would put the team over the luxury tax threshold for years to come. Finances don't matter to you as much as championships do, the tradition of great Lakers basketball, and for that we salute you, that's why Los Angeles now has a ninth banner under your keep.

But now we must get to the men on the court, afterall that is where the games are won and lost. Kobe will get most of the credit for this, and indeed he dererves the lions share, but he couldn't have done it without these guys, most notably...

...Pau Gasol, whom, as Jeff Van Gundy likes to put it, is the NBA's best second best player. This season, and especially in the postseason, he went from a very good player to a great one. Not only does he score on anyone and possess a sky-high basketball IQ, but his defense has become much improved. Last season it was mock-worthy, then it became adequate, to above-average, to damned good in the Finals, as evidenced by the job he did on Dwight Howard, holding him to 15 points a game on a mere 49 percent shooting, eleven percent south of his overall postseason effort. Of course he couldn't have done it without a little help from...

...Lamar Odom, much maligned and asked of for more, but finally arrived. This was his finest season: Before the season began he accepted a demotion to the bench in a contract year, and after some brief discontent he embraced his new role. Then, when Andrew Bynum went down to a knee injury in January he quietly and seamlessly filled in until Bynum's return in April, at which point he quietly and seamlessly transitioned back to his position as sixth man. With Drew failing to recover his previous form and constantly plagued by foul trouble, he picked up the slack once again, averaging a 13-8 in the finals and a 12-9 overall in 32 minutes a game in the postseason. Redemption and vindication at last. I'm happy for Lamar, he's been here for a while now, through all of the post-Shaq angst, tons of scrutiny, and enough trade rumors that I'm almost shocked he lasted this long. He's a great guy, adored by his teammates and well-liked by reporters, and there's not a lot of guys unselfish enough to make the sacrifice he made, get jerked around and treated like an object all season, and remain such a positive team guy. Lesser men would have become the kind of cancer that can sabotage a championship dream. If Odom leaves this summer, he will leave a champion, and he didn't need a ring to prove it.

Derek Fisher - we already covered him, so let's move on to...

...Trevor Ariza. I think Odom is more valuable to this team. With Bynum's injury history and general flightiness, you can't underestimate the importance of having a guy on the bench who fits into the puzzle so easily and brings just as much to the table in his own way. But Ariza's defense, athleticism, outside shooting, and knack for getting his hand on the ball were huge to this championship run. If he ever learns some moves off the dribble he'll be Eddie Jones 2.0. Every title team has a Trevor Ariza on it; I hope the Lakers still have him next year.

Andrew Bynum - Didn't do much in the postseason, aside from a moment here and there, but if he hadn't gotten hurt last season, L.A. might not have felt the same urgency to cash in on the Gasol insurance policy. He's shown flashes of dominance, and when he gets right again, it'll be even more hell for the rest of the league.

Luke Walton - Other than Odom, he made the biggest impact of any Lakers bench player this postseason. Just solid.

Sasha Vujacic - Wasn't much of a Machine this time around. Sasha kind of went in the tank this season after a breakout performance last year. He saw a decrease in playing time as Ariza stole the minutes he got playing alongside Kobe to finish games last year, but he also didn't shoot as well as he did last year, from 45 percent overall and 44 percent from deep to 39/36. It was almost as if he played over his head last year and fell back to earth this season. He went scoreless in the Finals, which is kind of incredible - when he signed that new contract last summer no one envisioned him struggling so mightily. But he's still Sasha, he's still our Sasha, and we love him regardless. Regardless of his poor play he was a key rotation player this year, so he can wear his ring with pride. The same can be said of his backcourt buddy...

...Jordan Farmar, another good character guy on a team stacked with them. Jordan hit a sort of junior wall this season, if that exists (I know it doesn't). He missed time with a knee injury and just flat struggled all season, somehow regressing from a strong sophomore campaign. He lost his job at the end of the season and beginning of the playoffs, shared it, and finally retrieved it in the Finals - a lot of this fluctuation dictated by the matchups that were presented in each series. He just has to get his confidence back and he'll be fine, I still see him as the point guard of the future. However, I hope...

...Shannon Brown is still around to push him. He's a free agent also, and hopefully the Lakers can afford to keep him. A perceived throw-in in the Radmanovic trade, Brown surprisingly proved a natural fit for the triangle offense: he has good size, he can shoot, he defends, and it doesn't matter that he's not a pure point guard because the triple post doesn't require one. He's also an insane athlete (the best on the team and one of the best raw athletes in the league), allowing him to play the two on occasion, and he plays hard as hell every second he's out there. He could probably make more money elsewhere, but I think he fits in best here.

Josh Powell - Another shrewd pickup by Mitch, Powell made only spot appearances in the playoffs, but when Bynum went down his number was dialed and he answered the call. A money 18-foot jump shooter, Powell always made a positive impact when he was on the floor.

Adam Morrison, Sun Yue, DJ Mbenga - Thanks for coming guys (and Vladi and Ronny, wish you were here).

Everyone deserves a curtain call, too often people forget that while the NBA is a star driven league, and certainly the sport in which individual players can have the greatest impact on the outcome of a contest, ultimately basketball is a team game, and it takes a group effort to win. Like all other champions, that level of teamwork is what the Lakers have achieved.

Kobe Wins Fourth Title, And Now He Can Sleep Soundly

Well, after all of that, now that he's done it, I think the most apt question is, Is anyone surprised? Of course Kobe Bryant led a team to an NBA championship. For the most part, all the truest of true legends have done it, and who has ever watched Kobe during his career and not realized that they were watching the kind of pure genius you tell your grandkids about? He has over the past 13 seasons ascended to levels of play that arguably no other player has achieved. As its peak, his scoring prowess was such that he was capable of scoring 50 to 60 points in literally arbitrary fashion. Like boxing writers say about Roy Jones or Floyd Mayweather, there have been times when Bryant has operated at a level so superior to the opposition it was just mesmerizing. Defenses ceased to matter. No contemporary basketball player has outclassed more challengers (team and individual) with his skill and talent. On top of that, he's a defender, rebounder, passer, and ballhandler - and a triangle offense initiator for the first three championships of his career, Scottie Pippen only if Pippen had to score 25 a night instead of 20 and carry the crunch-time burden as well.

In other words, we have spent all of this time obsessing over something that was inevitable. We know who the best players of all-time are, they're the ones with the rings: Magic, Larry, Mike, Shaq, and Duncan have been the NBA kings of the past 30 years because they acquired the hardware. Shaquille's presence and impact was so large it cast even a megastar like Kobe into a shadow, and ensured that if Kobe retired without a title as the best player on a team his legacy would have been that of a man who couldn't win a title without the Big Guy. He would have ranked ahead of the sidekicks - the Pippens and McHales - and he would have placed before the guys who never won rings - the Barkleys and Malones. But he would have fallen short of that most exclusive of clubs, the Elite Company, with Johnson, Bird, and Jordan, etc., that we know he aspires for membership in.

But we knew those guys, and we knew Kobe, so we had to have known this day would come eventually. Of course, I say this with the knowledge that he has won the fourth championship. If ten years from now he had hung it up with only three, I'd see him in an entirely different light. Instead, I see this as the accomplishment that verifies how great I already knew he was. I also see the fourth ring as providing certification to the other three and solidifying with them, proving that he was capable of winning titles as top dawg all along: He doesn't have three rings with Shaq and one ring without, he just has four rings, period. And all he needed was sufficient enough help.

I like to compare the Kobe and Shaq duo to that of Avon Barksdale and Stringer Bell. I once started a discussion on an HBO message board that pondered who was the better no. 2 between Stringer and Chris Partlow, and a smart commenter somewhat deflated my topic by arguing that Avon and Stringer were more or less partners, as they shared profits. Still, though, Avon's job description read drug kingpin, while Stringer's read drug lord, and as such while Stringer had an extremely crucial voice and very much his friend's ear, Avon's word was the gavel.

Similarly, while Kobe did more heavy lifting for those teams than any other "sidekick" ever did, in all honesty sharing equal responsibility with Shaq - even serving as the end-of-game go-to-guy and sometimes flat-out carrying the team - in the end he deferred. Shaq was the focal point of the offense and the most important reason for L.A.'s dominance, and thus 1A, and this was proved each June, when Kobe would fall back and let Shaq go to work in the Finals, content to do the Pippen routine while Shaq put up the monster numbers and collected that little trophy that is now named after Bill Russell.

So I think Kobe needed this one, to show that he could do it guiding the sleigh, and now that he has one of his own he must be considered one of the top-10 players to ever lace 'em up. He can just go chill out on some farm somewhere if he wants to, and give up basketball, he has nothing left to prove. Of course he'll keep pushing, he wants five and six rings, he wants as many as he can get, he wants to keep rising up the all-time ladder. But even if he doesn't win another one he can sleep soundly, his legacy is secure. I think the best athletes reach a level of greatness at which everyone's excellence becomes virtually the same. You may not be the best guy at the table, but it doesn't matter, all that counts is that you get to sit down in the first place. I think Kobe has reached that point. His persecutors will continue to throw rocks, as they say hatred lasts forever, but in truth he has silenced them, and it was really only a matter of time before he did.

Derek Fisher Comes Through For Lakers Again

Derek Fisher has, here in the latter stages of his career, come to be admired as a sort of basketball warhorse. But he was not always so esteemed. Near the end of his first stint with the Lakers, Fisher earned a reputation as a liability for his lack of success defending quick point guards. He had a scorching run during the 2001 playoffs, but by the time the Lakers completed their three-peat the following season, the feeling was that the Lakers were winning in spite of their point guard. When the Lakers failed to win a fourth consecutive title the following season, management looked to improve their resistance at the position. That summer, they added future Hall-of-Famer and defensive genius Gary Payton in an attempt to solve the issue. Fisher was moved to the bench, a sort of cold demotion for a man who had been a starter on two championship teams. And yet, it was Fisher who made the most notable play of that season, authoring one of the most famous shots in NBA history (I believe you know which one I am referring to).

The L.A. dynasty would be dismantled following a shocking upset at the hands of the Pistons in the Finals that June, and Fish would join in on the great exodus, fleeing via free agency. But after three seasons away from the nest he would return, this time not as a handicap but as a plus: a cool-headed, steady handed veteran leader who would help bridge the gap between long-time back-court mate Kobe Bryant and his young, embattled supporting cast.

Indeed, Fisher's stable play and maturity was a major upgrade over the flighty Smush Parker, and the Lakers made the Finals last season thanks in part to Fish's positive calming influence both on and off the court. He could've retired last summer, with everyone's respect and his impact appreciated by Lakers Nation. He had earned it. Of course with that being said, when he struggled down the stretch this year his head was once again called for. His poor play wasn't going to negatively affect his reputation but it was hurting his team. Loyalty is a great notion but it doesn't help win ballgames. It seemed to be the only thing that was allowing him to keep his job, though. Fisher had always done two things well: make threes and take charges. Now he wasn't doing much of either, only he was still playing 30 minutes a night. He was playing basketball whilst sporting dentures and needing the aid of a cane and it was time to hand the reigns to the young guys, Farmar and Brown.

Then it happened. The real reason Phil Jackson stuck with him, I suppose. Game 4, NBA Finals, Orlando leads L.A. by three with eleven seconds left. Out of the timeout Ariza inbounds to Kobe, who's doubled and forced to give it back to Ariza, who then throws it to Fisher. Fish dribbles the ball calmly into the frontcourt. Will the Magic foul? They never do. Jameer Nelson gives Fish way too much room to breathe, so he casually stops behind the three-point line, squares up, and tickles the net for the last basket of regulation. In overtime, Kobe has been monopolizing the ball to an extreme fault, but now there's 30-some seconds left and he's doubled in the post by Pietrus and Nelson and has no choice but to pass. And Fisher is wide open behind the arc, straight away. In the very first game of the regular season last year, Bryant found him for a game-tying jumper in the fourth quarter to cap off a rally versus the Rockets. The Lakers would lose the game but the outcome was besides the point: Kobe may not have trusted the rest of his teammates, but he did trust Fisher, and he trusted him in big moments, and that was evident immediately upon his return.

Thursday night, Kobe gave it up to Fisher again, and the rest is history. The Lakers won, despite being on the bad end of one of the most lopsided officiated games in Finals history. Not just the 37-20 disparity overall, but the fact that Orlando shot 17 free throws to the Lakers ZERO in the fourth quarter. 17 to ZERO? Really? How can that be? I don't know how the Lakers pulled it out but they did, and Fisher was the hero (along with Ariza), as he cemented his status as one of the best clutch shooting role players of his generation. It speaks volumes of the old guy, and for the experience and mental fortitude that is so valued in him, and it seems only right that the Lakers are now only a game away from a fourth title this decade and Derek Fisher is right in the middle of it.

Where Will Kobe Rank All-Time If He Can Win This Title?

I've heard that he's top-15 with a chance to crack the top-8. I've heard that he's top-10 with a chance to break the top-5. Many have their opinion about where Kobe Bryant ranks historically right now, and where Kobe Bryant will rank if he can secure a fourth championship ring this month.

In the modest estimation of this writer, as we speak only eight players sit ahead of Bryant all-time: Michael Jordan (man among men); Wilt Chamberlain (man among boys); Bill Russell (11 rings); Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (most underrated); Magic Johnson (transcended a position, could do anything on a basketball court); Larry Bird (raw, master basketball player).

Bryant was a better end-to-end player than the latter two legends, but they were the best two players on five and three championship teams, respectively.

I'd put Shaq O'neal and Timmothy Duncan before him, too, for they also were the best players on multiple title winning squadrons. I wouldn't put Jerry West ahead of him: he only won one championship, near the tail-end of his career, on the legendary 1971-72 Lakers, when he was pretty much equals with fellow Hall-of-Famers Chamberlain and Gail Goodrich (sort of a precursor to the KG-P2-Ray thing that happened 36 years later), and, in admittedly one of the great injustices in the history of the sport, never won a (regular season) MVP. Oscar Robertson was a statistical marvel, but fact is he never won a title on his own - he had to wait until the latter portion of his run, when he was second fiddle to a young Lew Alcindor on the 1970-71 Bucks.

Consider this: This season, Bryant became only the third member of what I consider to be a pretty exclusive club: the "first team All-NBA and all-defense team seven times each" club, joining Jordan and Duncan. I fairness, the all-defense team did not come into existence until the 1968-69 season. This was Russell's final campaign, and obviously many of the stars of the '60s were greatly precluded from inclusion, so its not the fairest list. Still though, that's 40 years of hoop right there, and for Bryant to be in such rare company, with the greatest player of all-time and, in my opinion, the best all-around big man of all-time, is a testament to the sweat of his career and the completeness of his game.

Bryant scores more purely than anyone ever, rebounds and passes as well as any two-guard could be asked, handles better than any non-point guard in history, and to top it off, competes with a nightly zeal on defense not often seen from such great offensive players. And he has the accolades to back it up.

I was tempted to move Bryant to the very top of the list while watching him carve up the Magic Thursday night in Game 1 of the Finals, specifically his 17-point third quarter performance. It didn't surpass MJ's best work in that round, but it was a show to be remembered, for the level of superiority and sheer intensity on display. We already knew Kobe was a magician on the court, and we knew he was dead serious, but Thursday night he appeared to be on the verge of madness. I mean, not even MJ ever wanted a championship so badly he was turning visibly feral in its pursuit.

But I don't think he'll have to wait much longer, it really looks like in the next week he is going to get the prize he pines for. Orlando just didn't look like they belonged in Game 1; I'd almost say they looked scared. They'll play better - Howard won't have another game where he makes only one field goal, for one, and Orlando's 30 percent shooting from the floor indicates that more than giving credit to the Lakers defense (which was excellent), we must recognize that the Magic simply had one of those games.

But I have come up with this rule of thumb: In a match-up between the Lakers and another relatively equally talented team, if Kobe shoots about 40 percent, La La will very likely taste defeat. If he hovers around 45 percent, they will probably win. If he shoots 50 percent? The opponent has no chance. In L.A.'s two previous trips to the Finals, Bryant shot a respective 39 and 40 percent, and the Lakers lost both times.

But those failures came against the 2004 Pistons and 2008 Celtics, two historically stout defensive clubs that made thwarting him their predicate to success. Not only do the Magic have no such defense or, apparently, game-plan, but Bryant is simply unstoppable now. He became a better shooter over the summer, adding more arc to his release in an effort to make himself more effective against the Boston-type defense that builds a fortress around the paint and forces him to get his points on long jumpers. He also sets up and plays more in the post now than ever before. He officially has an answer for everything. So, I see him shooting at least 47-48 percent in this series. Which means it's highly probable that the only remaining question is who is he about to leap-frog in the all-time rankings.

I don't know if one championship will shift him above anyone on my imaginary list, but something tells me he's got more than a single ring left in him. This dude is not nearly done playing basketball at a transcendent level. So we'll have this discussion now, and then we'll do the same a in a year or so, when he may be ready to make a real move up the ladder.

Desperate Lakers Will Top Magic in Finals

Before we tackle the NBA Finals, we must first congratulate LeBron James for being a hero, even in ultimate failure. To see someone play so unbelievably well in a losing effort is both disheartening and something to admire. He played his ass off, putting up numbers reminiscent of a young MJ, and like young Air he deserved better than the outcome. But he never really had a chance. With Mo Williams playing poorly this postseason, Cleveland reverted back to the one-man team of yonder, er, the past five years. Didn't matter for two rounds against an expired Detroit and a Hawks team that didn't nearly stack up, but it did now against a troubling Orlando squad. It was already a bad matchup and now it was worse with LeBron forced to go 1-on-5. His absurd 39-8-8 over the six games wasted. A ridiculous 35-9-7 over 14 playoff games gone down the drain. But he gets none of the blame. In fact, he deserves a consolation prize. Stephen Jackson, anyone?

As for Lakers-Magic...wow. Who would have thunk it? Before the season began, no one thought of Orlando as a legit championship contender. After winning 59 games during the season, they still got no respect. Then few, Charles Barkley notably included, thought they had a shot against Cleveland. No head coach took more of a beating than Stan Van Gundy, roasted mercilessly by Shaq, called out by his best player in the Boston series. No franchise player took more heat than Dwight Howard, scolded for being too nice, mocked for his lack of post moves. Then he put 40 on the Cavs Saturday night. That's what makes their rise seem so premature and surprising, almost like it wasn't supposed to be - they seemed on the verge of imploding during that Celtics series, and Dwight didn't yet seem equipped to lead a team so far, especially if he had to go through a fully-formed superstar to get there. But here they are. The question is, How?

Once again, the answer is the matchups. Orlando is built around a big man and four perimeter players. It starts there. Howard controls the boards better than anyone since Rodman, protects the rim with urgency, and dunks everything if you don't wrap him up first (and center Marcin Gortat proves a reliable backup in limited minutes). Rafer Alston (and before him Jameer Nelson), Courtney Lee, Mickael Pietrus, Hedo Turkoglu, Rashard Lewis, Anthony Johnson, and, when called upon, J.J. Redick, surround him. They slash, pass, but most and best of all, they shoot it, 38 percent during the season and a whopping 10 per game. It is, by far, the most effective inside-out game in basketball, and it creates nightmares for other top teams.

The keys, I think, are Lewis and Howard. Lewis, the de facto power forward, completes the spreading of the floor, giving Orlando a fourth shooter. That's the small ball part of it. The difference between them and say, '05 and '07 Phoenix or '07 Golden State, is that it never seems to leave them at a disadvantage down low. Orlando will never be dominated on the boards with Howard in the paint, and he can protect the basket by his lonesome - plus Lewis drags traditional power forwards out on the floor, distorting their influence around the hoop, like he did against Varejao in the Cleveland triumph, and leaving Howard to have a one-man house party in the paint. When Cleveland focused their attentions on Howard, Lewis seemed to get lost behind the three-point line. It's like pick your poison.

I rooted against Cleveland in that series for a few reasons. 1) They were measured against L.A. so closely, and I didn't want them to struggle versus Orlando any less than the Lakers were against Denver, 2) I was scared of having to see LeBron for seven games, and 3) I was able to take solace in the fact that Orlando's two wins during the regular season came in very close ballgames, and that L.A. does have the homecourt advantage. I think L.A. has the potential to exploit the slender Lewis down low by force-feeding the 7-foot Gasol in the post against him - effectively canceling out Lewis' considerable mobility edge on the other end, something the Cavs couldn't do with Varejao. Or they can just start Odom - don't even really have to, he'll play big minutes with Bynum inevitably in foul trouble. They're better with him and Gasol at the big spots, anyway.

These are two pretty evenly matched teams on the court, but I think what will get L.A. over the hump is that they need it more. A fire burns in their belly since last year's Finals, it was under control, but it began to rage in Game 6 of the Denver series, as they could practically taste their rematch with destiny. They seem ready to play their best ball of the season, but if there is one thing I've learned over the last few years, it's that when a new series starts between two teams, nothing that happened before matters except the history between those two teams. And as I said, Orlando took both meetings during the regular season. At this point, it must be considered foolish to ignore regular season results when trying to gauge playoff contests.

So while L.A. looks ready to roll now, and they will be fully motivated, and they are a monster when filled with inspiration - does any of that matter against a team that simply matches up well with them? History says no. But I do think their exigency will come into play, at the very end, at what I envision to be the conclusion of the series: Game 6 in Cali, Lakers up 3-2. Their experience in this setting has helped get them a lead in a very competitive series. Now we're down to the very wire, fourth quarter, championship minutes, ballgame up for grabs. What stops it from going the seventh? The Lakers are too close, too hungry. They won't wait another game. They snatch it as if their lives depended on it. They make every big play and come up with every 50/50 ball because they have to, because they must throw water on the flames. Desperation, the literal deciding factor.

Of course, I hope the Lakers sweep. But at last we must give the Magic more credit than that.

Kobe Bryant Burnishing His Legend In Jordanesque Fashion

13 seasons. Numerous lengthy playoff runs. The basketball mileage of a man several years older than his actual age. Played in all 82 regular season games last year, played in all 82 regular season games this year. Played in 21 playoff games last year, has played in 14 playoff games and counting this year. In between, he took on the toughest defensive assignments as he helped our country bring back gold. The Rockets employed a defensive genius and a swarming help defense that closed off driving lanes to try and contain him last series, which went seven games. In the current series, the Nuggets beat him up for 40 minutes a night with multiple defenders and a strong help defense that meets him at every turn. And for the first time you can see the weariness from all of that wear and tear is finally starting to take its toll on him.

He's exhausted.

And now that he's become more human, he has begun the process of becoming forever inhuman.

This is the real stuff legends are made of.

This past NFL season, I wrote an article about how Peyton Manning was turning himself into a mythical athlete right before our very eyes, by playing himself into form coming off the first major physical ailment of his career (two knee surgeries in the summer) while carrying the Colts into the playoffs for the umpteenth straight season and winning a record-tying third MVP for his efforts, all at the relatively old age of 32.

Bryant is now doing something similar.

Bill Simmons suggested this week that Bryant is now a tad past his prime, and J.A. Adande joined him on his podcast to illuminate that he heard Kobe admit to being tired for the first time ever - and J.A. has only been following the dude his entire career, through all of those playoff marathons.

The statistics show that Bryant has already played in only 95 fewer games (regular season and playoffs combined) than Michael Jordan did in his entire career with the Bulls (1114 to M.J.'s 1209), even though Bryant is only 30 and Jordan retired from Chicago for the last time at 35.

Speaking of Jordan, considering that Simmons is the guy that put Jordan's final stand in red and black into its most proper perspective ("Jordan's collective performance against Indiana and Utah in the playoffs -- when he fought the effects of a 100-game season, paced his 36-year-old body, shouldered some of Scottie Pippen's burden (when Pippen was derailed by a bad back) and still managed to carry the Bulls through the final two rounds -- was simply the most extraordinary basketball achievement of my lifetime. Just thinking about it gives me the chills."), I'm surprised that he has yet to mention the parallels between that accomplishment and what Kobe is doing right now (although he's probably just ignoring it).

Think about it. It's not exactly the same scenario, but the essence of it is the same, mainly the fact that, like Jordan, Bryant is older and showing more fatigue than ever, which makes the holding off of intruders all the more admirable and warrior-like.

Kobe's been The Man for years, but now he is being chased by hungry youngsters who want what he's got. Some are beginning to call Carmelo Anthony the game's best pure scorer, and more are designating LeBron James as the league's new best player - two unofficial titles Bryant has held a grip on for most of this decade. The Nuggets are arguably just as talented as the Lakers (especially now that Anthony is turning into a superstar, a poor Game 3 showing notwithstanding), and Kobe's own team has struggled to find their footing. The funny thing is that for all the talk about how deep and gifted this Lakers team is, his supporting cast behave so often like stooges that in many ways the on-court burden he carries is just as heavy as it's ever been.

So what has he done? A huge 40 point outing to lead La La to a tough win in Game 1 of the Nuggets series. 32 in a valiant effort in a Game 2 loss. And then, Saturday night, on the road, in a hostile environment, he puts up a 41-6-5, 12-24 from the field, 15-17 from the floor.

That's 113 points over three consecutive playoff games, in the conference finals, at a time when the adversity has never been greater and the doubts have never been more prevalent (and don't forget that the Jazz were favored over Chicago in 1998 because they had home-court advantage).

People are questioning his energy and he is being challenged mightily. His bounce is not what it used to be, his burst is not as explosive (he has to play more physical on drives now as he can't always accelerate by people like he used to), and during his right-after-the-game interview with ABC's sideline reporter, he couldn't even stand up straight, instead conducting the short Q+A while bent over, tugging on his shorts, barley even able to catch his breath, and no, Kobe has never given a right-after-the-game interview that spent.

Which makes what he is doing, the way he is rising to the challenge, all the more exhilarating to behold. Kobe Bryant is playing the most impressive and inspiring ball of his career, like it or not it has been quite Jordanesque, and he is turning himself into a truly immortal basketball player right as we speak. He shall be pictured in black and white, looking weary yet triumphant, because that was when the great Kobe Bryant was at his greatest.

_


As Game 3 was about to tip-off, I was leaving my 21st birthday party/dinner. Kobe was hugging and dapping teammates on the bar's television screens. By the time I got in the car on the way home, L.A had a 12-11 lead in the first quarter, according to Lakers radio play-by-play man Spero Dedes. I listened to the remainder of the first quarter on A.M. frequencies. By the time I got home, the Lakers trailed by two, 28-26.

For the rest of the night, I joined the rest of my Lakers Nation affiliates in cheering my team to a hard-fought victory on the visitor's court. We had regained the home-court advantage. And let me tell 'ya, I couldn't have possibly asked for a better birthday present.

I love the Lakers, but I hate them

If you came up to me on the street one day and told me that a team that featured Ron Artest, Shane Battier, Aaron Brooks, Luis Scola My Friend From Argentina, Chuck Hayes, Carl Landry, Von Wafer, Kyle Lowry, and Brent Barry would be facing a team with Kobe Bryant, Pau Gasol, Lamar Odom, Andrew Bynum, Trevor Ariza, Derek Fisher, Sasha Vujacic, Luke Walton, Josh Powell, and Shannon Brown, and they were going to play 100 times, just based on the names you just gave me, I would pick the latter team to win all 100 times. Seriously. That's what should happen. And yet, the first team has beaten the second team by double-digits in two of the last three games - even though they lost the game in between by 40 points, and even though this is the playoffs and its supposed to matter.

As a Lakers fan, it makes me sick to my stomach. Watching them struggle against themselves to beat this courageous Houston team, it reminds me of the time in 2003, when the Pacers lost a first-round playoffs series to the Celtics, and Bill Simmons bashed Isiah Thomas for losing a series in which he had 10 of the 12 best players. Why will the Lakers be hosting a completely unnecessary and embarrassing Game 7 to the Rockets on Sunday night?

Let me count the ways, in no particular order.

1. They don't know how to play defense

I'll give them this much credit: At least they're trying to play defense. That's more than you could say for them in the Utah series, or pretty much the entire regular season. But still, even with the effort (it tells you something about the team when I am commending them for actually making a valid attempt to stop the other team from scoring), the Lakers are still pretty pitiful on that end of the floor. Before the season, Phil Jackson appointed assistant coach Kurt Rambis as a kind of defensive coordinator for the team. Rambis came up with a scheme that overloaded the strong side of the floor, trapping the man with the ball and forcing passes to the weak side. It made them vulnerable to open threes and scramble situations, but they conceded that. I guess it worked well enough, I don't know. After the first 20 or so games of the season, the Lakers just stopped playing defense altogether. I noticed a bit of that defense Thursday night, but in this series the Lakers have mostly just played defense like idiots. That's what we'll call it: The Idiot Defense. I have news for anyone on the Lakers coaching staff this may concern: Your defense sucks. It doesn't work. Someone is always open. The players help out on everyone. They'd double my grandma. This is hurting them against Houston. The Rockets have no one who demands a natural double-team (by that I mean no one on Houston commands a second defender unless an uncommon match-up happens where they have a gross size advantage, such as when Brown was matched up with Artest). The only help should come when Brooks gets past Fisher. If Artest wants to post up Ariza, let him. If the Lakers let Artest post-up Ariza without help for a whole game, is he going to score 40 points? In the slim chance that he does, does that help the Rockets? Of course not. But no matter who on Houston has the ball, it seems that the Lakers are cheating off of their individual assignments, then bringing help whenever the guy with the ball makes a move. Why not just play everyone straight up, rather than let Houston's stellar ball movement pick them apart?

Also, Kobe chases the ball on defense, and can wreak havoc playing that way. But when he leaves Battier alone like he does, it often results in a clean look at a three for the No-Stats All-Star, as he's too far away to get back, and his teammates are not covering for him. Either Kobe needs to stop playing that way, play a little more honest, or his teammates need to, as Jeff Van Gundy put it during the telecast, "help the helper." But something needs to be established. Game 4 excluded, Battier has made only four threes in five games. But he's too good of a shooter and it's too much of a risk to leave him open. It's almost like playing Russian Roulette. I don't get it.

One other defensive problem...

2. Aaron Brooks is owning them

Playing against the Lakers has the same affect on fleet point guards that using steroids has on baseball players. It jumps them a level. I believe it was none other than that old despised prophet Jose Canseco who said that steroids help turn a decent player into a great player and a great player into a superhuman player.

And whether it be because of their utter lack of a clue as to how to guard the screen roll, the inability of Derek Fisher (God bless his soul) to keep quick guards in front of him, or a combination of both, the Lakers have been making opposing point guards look better than they actually are for years.

Mike Bibby has been a terrific NBA point guard for more than a decade now, but the last (and only) time he played the Lakers in a playoff series, he looked an unearthed legend, like he was going to be an All-Star for the subsequent ten years.

Why? Because being defended by (mostly) Fisher (God bless his soul), he was able to get anywhere on the floor that he pleased at any time. Furthermore, maybe even worse, the Kings would put Bibby in the screen-roll...and Lord knows the Lakers haven't been able to defend that thing since before Shaq got here. No switch on the play, and Bibby picked them apart with long jumpers.

That was in 2002. Seven years later, Bibby still has not cracked that first All-Star nut. In that series, however, he looked like a superstar (and they had similar struggles with the young Tony Parker in 2004, several years before he was a top-three point guard, and yes, Gary Payton, you get a little of that blame, too, although of course things would have been different if you had been in your prime).

Now enter Chris Paul, er, Aaron Brooks, who looks like Chris Rock but doesn't make me laugh as much. Brooks is a good player. There is no disputing that. His speed and quickness are blinding, making him more valuable in today's NBA than ever before, and he can score. But seriously...Aaron Brooks? We shouldn't be able to corral Aaron Brooks? He should be wreaking havoc in the NBA playoffs? Really?

He has been the single most important player in this series for the Rockets - he's only in his second year, and he's only started 40 games in his career, so he's still learning and he's still inconsistent, but when he has played well the Rockets have won: 19 points in Game 1, 34 in Game 4, 26 in Game 6, mostly on layups and threes. The assists totals have not been high, but they disguise the baskets he's making with his penetrating, which causes the defense to react, and then his dishing, which even if it doesn't end in a dime ends up being the pass that led that to a pass that led to a bucket.

Just shoot me already.

3. They still show no heart, toughness, or drive on a consistent basis

Now let's see: L.A. rotates 7-1 Bynum, 7-0 Gasol, and 6-11 Odom (the best rebounder of the three) at the big spots. And not only are those guys tall, they have extra long arms. Meanwhile, Houston competes with 6-9 Scola, 6-9 (yeah, right) Landry, and 6-6 Hayes as their 4-5's.

And yet, Houston still manages to compete on the boards, because L.A.'s big men allow their bigs to seal them off without making a real effort to fight for position. I know guys like Landry and Hayes are beefier and stronger than thin guys like Odom and Gasol, but come on...if L.A.'s big guys try hard enough, if they push back a little and move their bodies, they will own the boards.

To be accurate, the Lakers have outrebounded the Rockets 131-124 in the last three games, and are pretty much dead even on the offensive glass (33 to Houston's 34). But that's the point: they should be dominating. To make sure I was being fair to the Lakers, I looked up the rebounding numbers for Cleveland's 4-0 sweep of Atlanta. Just as I suspected: the Cavs outboarded the Hawks 178-123 overall, and 53-41 on the offensive end. Now that's a team that's doing what it needs to be doing.

In particular, if I were the Lakers big men, and I had the kind of height advantage that they have on the inside, I would be crashing the offensive glass even more than usual, with all my might, because I knew the other team was too small down there to handle me.

But that's just me.

Which brings us to our final point.

4. Phil Jackson?

I do think the guy cares. He's famously nonchalant, but he was up off the bench early and often in Game 6. And I'm sure he wants a tenth ring. He's clearly great at managing great talent, his teams have rarely underachieved, and he instills a calmness and confidence in his players that prevents them from panicking under any situation.

But think about it: He can't get these guys to play defense, they play with even less nightly purpose than the Shaq-Kobe teams (even those guys blew a couple of playoff games with lackadaisical performances, knowing they were superior and could turn it on and off, only occasionally the switch wouldn't come on), and I just don't see any adjustments from them (for example, why don't they post Kobe up more against Battier, so that he can get some shots closer to the basket?), unlike in his first stint here, when he and his staff always made excellent game-to-game adaptations and counter-moves.

Hey, I love Phil Jackson. I am forever indebted to the guy. He came here and turned EVERYTHING around - the Lakers had gotten swept out of the playoffs in consecutive years before his arrival and were looking like a talented team with no direction, a team with potential going nowhere fast, and then he comes in and they immediately win three straight championships. Think about that. That was an incredible job by him. No one else could have done what he did in such a short period of time. There is some genius in Phil Jackson. He doesn't get enough credit. Anyone who thinks of Phil Jackson as some cat who just won a grip of titles with the best players in the league needs to seriously contemplate the first half of this paragraph.

It's just that, since his initial year back in 2006, when he coached a team with Smush Parker and Kwame Brown as starters to a 45-win season, then came up with the brilliant game-plan that nearly allowed the underdog Lakers to topple the favored Suns in the first round of the playoffs, it doesn't seem that he's done much, except sit back and watch the team become stacked. That's why I wonder how much he cares. They're paying him $12 million for this year and the next. Is that the main reason he's still coaching?

Of course, I'm writing all of this after an extremely bad loss. If the Lakers win Sunday, which is likely but not a sure thing, obviously, I'll still be disappointed in them, and more relieved than happy. No way this thing should have gone seven. But if they end up winning the championship, all of this will be either dismissed as a speed-bump on the road to a ring, or forgotten all together. No one will care.

Still, though, if you're a Lakers fan you can't help but be frustrated, and this was my way expressing mines.

Now, for another full day of anxiety. I understand that the game should be on Sunday, but for my health, why couldn't it have been on Saturday?

Only One Thing Can Stop LeBron James

If you like boxing even a little bit, go here.

The site belongs to a cat by the name of Shoefly. No less than Bethlehem Shoals himself has called him the FreeDarko originator; Shoefly wrote the orignal FD petition. No surprise, then, that Boxiana reads like FD-meets-boxing. That's what it is. And it's brilliant.

Why do I bring this up? Well, in the final part of his three-part preview of last weekend's Manny Pacquiao-Ricky Hatton fight, Shoefly predicted that Pacquiao would win, because while Hatton was a great fighter, he didn't possess the magic Manny now holds, and it was going to take something greater than him to shoot down the Filipino as fast and relentless as he is flying now. Shoefly focuses on the seemingly inevitable Pacquiao-Mayweather bout. I echo his sentiment in my recap of the fight: If anyone is going to beat Pacquaio, as ferocious and mesmerizing as he is performing at the moment, it is going to have to be Floyd, the only fighter playing on the same historic field.

As I watch LeBron James tear through the Eastern bracket of the NBA playoffs, I think of this scenario. On Saturday, the Cavs defeated the Hawks 97-82 to take a 3-0 lead in their conference semifinal series. James finished with 47 points, 12 rebounds, and 8 assists on 15-25 shooting. For the postseason, he is averaging 33.7 points, 10 rebounds, and 6.6 assists on 55 percent shooting, and his team is 7-0. But more than just the phenomenal production, it's the way it's done that makes you realize you are watching an icon of icons. Every game LeBron makes a couple of highlight-reel worthy dunks, and occasionally he'll hit a three-point shot from near the half-court line, followed by a cool ass pose. He's not only the most dominant player since Michael Jordan, he's the most spectacular, too.

Right now, he's the basketball equivalent of Pacquiao, something so awesome and good that you feel privileged to be able to watch it. The difference is that LeBron isn't even at his peak yet, he's just better at 24 than most great players were in their primes.

And just as Mayweather is about the only thing that could deter Pacquiao right now, there appears to be only one thing that can stop LeBron.

I think you know who I am referring to.

Dwight Howard is a great player, but he's like Hatton: not great enough for this task. No, it will take something more. Enter the 2008-09 Los Angeles Lakers, a team of superior talent to the Cavaliers that is not as impressive to watch. But basketball is about matchups, and the Lakers beat the Cavaliers, handily, both times they faced them this season, including handing them their only legitimate defeat on their home court (the other came in the last game of the season, a one-point loss to the 76ers in which Cleveland rested their starters after already having locked up home-court advantage throughout the playoffs). Sure, LeBron is going to be unstoppable, he is going to put on a show, he didn't play well in those two games but that is irrelevant now as he has ascended once again this spring, a man on a mission, not unlike Ethan Hunt, Omar Little, and Jake Shuttlesworth. He makes his team better like no one ever has.

But L.A. has not yet reached their potential as a team. What if the Lakers are saving their best ball for the Finals, and once they get there they become the team they are capable of being? The team that plays focused and resolute and defends, like they have in their biggest games this year. The squadron that is hungry, the team that crushes you with their strength in numbers, coming at you and at you and at you, in waves, until you are overwhelmed. What if Andrew Bynum gets his timing down, and Kobe, in his prime, starving for a fourth ring, approaching the most important battle of his career (if the Lakers can beat the Cavs, there is hope for his very own mini-dynasty; if they cannot, LeBron rules autocratically for the next six years) that perfect basketball balance that he has shown at times in the past? What if their desire, to avenge last season's failure, surpasses Cleveland's, to avenge theirs of two years ago?

That is what it will take. Nothing less. LeBron James is great, demanding more reverence with each outing, and his presence alone almost guarantees that the Cavaliers will be competitive regardless of the opponent; the Lakers will just have to be better. It is the only way.

Is Manny Pacquiao the Best Boxer Ever?

It cost me $49.99. It ended 2:59 into the second round. It was worth every penny.

Watching Manny Pacquiao, right now, aged 30, with it all clicking, is like watching Michael Jordan go for 41 a game in the Finals against the Suns in 1993. It's like watching Babe Ruth club 60 homers in 1927, more than any other single team hit that season. It's like watching Tiger Woods win the 2001 Masters, completing the "Tiger Slam."

We get to see a historically significant boxer and athlete and A-list entertainer, during a period when few will ever match his prowess - his natural ability meeting halfway with his learned skills, a simultaneous happening of physical superiority peaking and years of practice and fine-tuning culminating.

A great star at his greatest.

For the second consecutive bout, Pacquiao turned a supposed super-fight into a mismatch, demolishing Ricky Hatton in slightly less than two rounds. Now, some are beginning to wonder if we are not witnessing potentially the best pound-for-pound fighter ever.

A clash looms between him and a recently un-retired assassin, in which a Pacman victory could answer the question definitively.

What happened Saturday night was brilliant, something I'll never forget, but we must consider all of this on a grander scale.

When Pacquiao first entered the pro ranks, he was a dazzling raw talent but not a particularly technical or versatile fighter.

Eight years of tutelage from Freddie Roach (the Phil Jackson to his MJ), however, have turned him into an all-around dynamo. "The Coach" has helped improve Manny's defense (specifically his head movement, now stellar) and diversify his punch selection. In addition, his power has followed him as he has moved up through the weight classes, and with Saturday's victory over Ricky Hatton he is now only the second ever six-division title-holder (joining Oscar De la Hoya), and the first ever four-time Ring Magazine champion.

About the only questions left are, Who could beat him, and where does he rank all-time?

The first query may be single choice.

Pacquiao has actually lost three times before, but not since 2005. If Floyd Mayweather Jr., who officially announced the end of his "retirement" at a press conference hours before Saturday night's fight that gave notice to his July 18 comeback bout against Juan Manuel Marquez, can defeat the Mexican legend, then all signs will point to a battle between him and the Filipino sensation.

And if Mayweather, now 32, does indeed return to his previous form, the form he possessed when he knocked out Hatton (who may now retire despite being merely 30, and if not will never fight a top-flight opponent again, anyway) two Decembers ago, then he may be able to do what no one else right now seems capable of.

Floyd may be the only person on the planet capable of matching Manny's speed and quickness, although he deploys it in a different way. Whereas Pacquiao is a relentless attacker who stops throwing only to adjust his trunks, Mayweather is a counter-puncher, an in-and-out fighter trained since childhood not to get hit. He is also the sports best defensive fighter, as well as its most disciplined.

In short, he may be the only man with the talent and gameplan to thwart this peak Pacquiao. He may be the only man with the hand-speed to compete with Pacquiao's bobbing and weaving and ducking. He may be the only man with the reflexes to avoid Pacquaio's whirlwind offensive attack. He may be the only man who can frustrate Pacquiao and dictate the style of the fight.

Winner takes all.

If Floyd can take down a true ring superstar in Marquez, then pick apart Pacquiao at a time when Pacman seems unbeatable, then we will call him not only the best boxer of his generation, but perhaps the premiere pound-for-pound boxer of all-time.

If Pacquiao can hand the extraordinary Mayweather his first loss, many will call him the G.O.A.T.

All I know for sure is this: If Floyd, cocky and confident (he said he would be out bowling with his daughter during the fight) and undeniably good as he is, watches what happened Saturday night and doesn't get at least a little nervous, then quite frankly, he's crazy.

Saturday night's knockout punch - a perfectly timed, perfectly placed left hook to Hatton's chin that left the "Hitman" in such a bad way it quite literally had my heart pounding with fear for his well-being - landed near the close of the second round. It collided so flush, so compact that Hatton's face barely turned with its force, not whipping nearly as much as a punch of such magnitude would seem to command - which is how you know it couldn't have connected any more violently.

My heart raced, too, when Pacquiao knocked Hatton down twice in the first round. I turned to my grandmother and asked her if she would split the fee with me if the bout lasted fewer than three rounds. Initially I wanted Hatton to hang on, yes, so that my $50 bucks would be spread out, and worth more per round.

By the time it was over, though, I fully appreciated what I had witnessed and realized that I didn't wish I could have a dime of it back, because I was clearly watching someone special.

The funny thing about Pacquiao is how calm and well-mannered he is after such beatdowns. He wore a smirk in the dressing room before being introduced, while Hatton, during the requisite stare-down as referee Kenny Bayless gave the pre-fight instructions, sported an expression that said, "What have I gotten myself into?" It's no surprise, then, that in the post-fight interviews, Pacman made it sound as if all he had done was gone and bought some donuts, then shared them amongst his friends.

He says he was just doing his job. He always says he's just doing his job.

Once again, job well done.

But there are larger things at stake.

Western Conference Playoffs First Round Preview

Now, for two months of angst.

Let's get it started...

1. L.A. Lakers (65-17) v. 8. Utah Jazz (48-34)
Season Series: L.A. won, 2-1

Utah hasn't been right all season. For most of the year, they were marred by injuries - specifically to Carlos Boozer (missed 45 games), but also Andrei Kirilenko (15 games), Deron Williams (14 games), and Mehmet Okur (10 games). Boozer finally returned in late February, in the middle of Utah's 12-game winning streak, and it seemed that the Jazz were going to make a serious run. But it has not been so. Utah has sputtered at the end of the season, losing 11 of their last 18, including home losses to Minnesota and Golden State this month. They have all their people back, but still aren't truly healthy - Boozer is still at less than 100 percent. He hasn't been himself. Thursday night against the Lakers, Williams looked all alone out there.

As for the Lakers - I mean, wow. They have the most talented team in the league by far. Lately, Shannon Brown, acquired from the Bobcats near the trade deadline in the deal that sent away Vladimir Radmanovic, has been stealing minutes from Jordan Farmar - just another good player for the Lakers, as if they needed any more. Andrew Bynum, just returned from a knee injury, is already getting his explosiveness back. Kobe Bryant, now 30, has picked his spots brilliantly this season (preserving himself at the beginning and end of the campaign and dominating in the middle, when Bynum was out) and is now ready to go full throttle. I mean, freaking Lamar Odom comes off the bench.

I agree with Charles Barkley - if the Lakers don't win the championship this season, it ain't happening. Think about it: What would make the Lakers win a championship in the next five years that won't allow them to win it this year? Better players? There hasn't been an NBA team this stacked in more than 20 years. If L.A. doesn't win it all this year, they don't have what it takes and never will, and the missing ingredient sure as hell won't be talent. And I love the Lakers more than almost anything.

The Lakers beat the Jazz in the playoffs last year without Bynum - and right now Utah isn't playing nearly as well as they played last year. Actually, they seem like they are ready to implode, the same way that the Nuggets did as the Lake Show was sweeping them in the first round last year.

Verdict: Lakers in four.

2. Denver Nuggets (54-28) v. 7. New Orleans Hornets (49-33)
Season series: 2-2

I really like this Denver team. It's amazing what Chauncey Billups has done with them. Simply put, he's made them more grown up. And as they head into the playoffs, a team that has lost in the first round of the playoffs in each of the last five years finally has itself a leader - the kind of leader any team could use. Kudos, Mr. Big Shot. We salute what you do.

Carmelo Anthony had some injuries this season - a broken wrist, a bad elbow - the latter likely the cause for his field goal percentage dipping five points, from 49 to only 44. Still, though, he can score the ball with the best of them, and is an improved all-around player. Nene had himself a career year. K-Mart still does K-Mart things. J.R. Smith lights it up off the bench. And Chris Anderson may be the best backup big man in the game right now - always makes an impact on the game with his shot-blocking, rebounding, and athleticism.

As far as the Hornets go, aren't they a two-man team at this point? It's an excellent tandem to have - David West was terrific in April, averaging a 24-9 on 52 percent shooting, and he's a bulldog, too. And Chris Paul is the best 6'1"-and-under player who ever lived. But they don't have enough help - Rasual Butler is okay, I guess, but you'd rather have him coming off the bench. Peja is playing hurt - he averaged 10 points a game on only 34 percent from three and 35 percent overall in 35 minutes a game in April, after playing only two games in March. Tyson Chandler missed almost a month before returning for the last game of the regular season.

I see Paul and West, two super-competitive guys, throwing up a 30-15 and a 25-10, respectively, in this series - and it still won't be enough.

Verdict: Nuggets in six.

3. San Antonio Spurs (54-28) v. Dallas Mavericks (50-32)
Season series: 2-2

In the past, Dallas matched up well with San Antonio. But that was when Dallas was good. Then again, San Antonio isn't what they once were, either - not with Manu Ginobili out for the year and Tim Duncan's knees aching, God bless his soul. He'll fight like a warrior, as he always does when he's playing hurt, and Tony Parker is now the third best point guard in the league, behind Paul and Williams. He'll probably average 30 points and 10 assists in this series. Still, it's hard to imagine how they can get by the way they are.

These guys had a great run.

Verdict: Mavericks in six.

4. Portland Trailblazers (54-28) v. Houston Rockets (53-29)
Season series: Houston 2-1

Probably the toughest first round match-up to call:

On the one hand, Portland has more talent. That's obvious. Brandon Roy is one of the ten best players in the league; LaMarcus Aldridge is the re-birth of the Portland-era Rasheed Wallace, minus the techs; Rudy Fernandez and Travis Outlaw are outstanding off the bench; and Batum, Blake, Sergio Rodriguez, and the Gorilla Vanilla Joel Przybilla are excellent role players. Hell, when he's not sitting on the bench in foul trouble, even Greg Oden comes in and contributes, using his sheer size to throw people around down low, grab some boards, get some put-backs, power home some dunks, and, occasionally, block a shot or two.

They also have the best home-court advantage in the league.

But here's what they don't have: any playoff experience whatsoever by any serviceable player other than Blake.

Houston, on the other hand, is a veteran team with a veteran coach and playoff experience, if not the good kind (they always lose in the first round). Yao is unstoppable on the low-block, and they play defense, and they play well together. Other than Yao, their biggest advantage may be this: the ability to tag-team Roy with Artest and Battier. As good as Brandon is, he isn't exactly an unstoppable virtuoso force of a scorer, a la Kobe or LeBron or Wade. I could see them giving him some trouble.

It's impossible to predict how this Portland team will perform in their first playoff appearance, but here's my best prognostication: They will win their first three games at home. So will Houston. Then, in Game 7, in a close game, right at the end, Portland will play like a team that has never been in such a situation before.

That is the way it goes.

Verdict: Houston in seven.

Check back tomorrow for the East preview...

Pau Gasol the NBA's Newest Secondary Superstar

It has been said that he has the physical characteristics of an ostrich.

After last seasons NBA Finals, Jemele Hill called him Pau Ga-soft.

But I believe Jeff Van Gundy defined him most justly.

He's the NBA's best second best player.

As the Lakers prepare to embark on another run at the championship, let's take a timeout to honor the game's latest, greatest supporting player.

The Lakers are 86-21 with Gasol in the lineup over the past two seasons. The Spaniard has found his ultimate niche in Los Angeles - the steady seven footer, Mr. Consistency, with the all-around game, Mr. 19/10/4 on 57 percent shooting, serving as the Pinky to Kobe Bryant's Brain.

Last year, it was his arrival from Memphis that saved L.A.'s season after the season-ending knee injury to center Andrew Bynum - Gasol's skill level and basketball intellect making him a perfect big man for the triangle offense, which he picked up on the fly.

This season, Bynum went down again, to another knee injury - but once again the Lakers didn't miss a beat, thanks in no small part to Gasol, who moved back to center and upped his workload, even after playing into June last season, then leading Spain to the gold medal game at the Olympics in the summer.

Doug Collins once proposed the idea that Gasol was the most skilled big man in the game, and he very well may be. He is an excellent passer. He is an excellent shooter. He is a nightmare both facing up and with his back to the basket, where he uses craft and finesse to dominate stronger, more physical defenders. He has terrific hands and great touch around the hoop, where he can finish equally well with either hand.

But he's also toughened up. Gasol still isn't going to out-muscle anyone, and he does still fall down often - almost like a stage actress fainting during a play - but he does seem a bit more willing to pound bodies in his back-up. The dude had his manhood questioned after last June's debacle, and like the rest of his teammates, he will no longer be pushed around.

And if the Lakers manage a championship or two or three out of this bunch, the name Pau Gasol will join a list of great players who were not the best players on their teams. Before Gasol, there was Scottie Pippen, the greatest supporting actor of them all (Kobe doesn't count; he and Shaq were really more like two Brando's sharing the same movie). Before Pippen, there was James Worthy and Kevin McHale. There is nothing wrong with being mentioned with any of these men. It is an honor.

As was proved in Memphis, you can only go so far with Gasol as the best player on your roster - the Grizzlies were swept out of the playoffs three straight years in their only playoff appearances with Gasol as their franchise player (and the only three playoff appearances in team history).

But put him on a squad with Kobe Bryant, and suddenly, you are in serious business.

Throw in a Lamar Odom, and you are going to contend for the title.

Throw in a healthy Andrew Bynum, and there is no reason for the Lakers not to win the whole damn 'ship.

If and when it happens, Gasol will no doubt have played a monumental part, and if they can duplicate such success in coming years, he can start thinking about a legacy.

But first, we must hand out some awards:

M.V.P - LeBron James, Cavaliers. Duh.

D.P.O.Y. - Dwight Howard, Magic. I actually think LeBron is the best defensive player in the league - but to me, a great interior defender is always more valuable than a great perimeter one. So Howard, who leads the league in blocks and rebounds, gets the nod.

R.O.Y. - Derrick Rose, Bulls. Duh, again. Although there are several future All-Stars that will come from this rookie class.

Sixth Man - Jason Terry, Mavericks. I believe it is Kenny Smith who says the award should not go to someone who could actually start for his team. Jeff Van Gundy has expressed similar sentiments. Whatever. Terry gets 20 a game off the pine for a playoff-bound Dallas team. 'Nuff said.

Most Improved Player - Danny Granger, Pacers. Went from a very good young player to one of the five best small forwards in the league. Devin Harris a close second.

Coach of the Year - Mike Brown, Cavaliers. Opened up the offense, accepted the Phil Jackson doctrine of never panicking, and allowing the players to play through rough patches, rather than bail them out with timeouts. Before, the Cavs pretty much won solely because they had LeBron, and almost in spite of Brown. This year, Brown has hit his stride.


All-NBA first-team

G Chris Paul, Hornets/Dwyane Wade, Heat
G Kobe Bryant, Lakers
F LeBron James, Cavaliers
F Tim Duncan, Spurs
C Dwight Howard, Magic

All-NBA second-team

G Chauncey Billups, Nuggets
G Brandon Roy, Blazers
F Paul Pierce, Celtics
F Dirk Nowitzki, Mavericks
C Yao Ming, Rockets

All-NBA third-team

G Tony Parker, Spurs
G Deron Williams, Jazz
F Carmelo Anthony, Nuggets
F Kevin Garnett, Celtics
C Pau Gasol, Lakers

All-NBA Defense first-team

G Dwyane Wade, Heat
G Kobe Bryant, Lakers
F LeBron James, Cavaliers
F Shane Battier, Rockets
C Dwight Howard, Magic

All-NBA Defense second-team

G Chris Paul, Hornets
G Rajon Rondo, Celtics
F Kevin Garnett, Celtics
F Tim Duncan, Spurs
C Kendrick Perkins, Celtics

All-rookie first team

Derrick Rose, Bulls
Russell Westbrook, Thunder
O.J. Mayo, Grizzlies
Kevin Love, T'wolves
Brook Lopez, Nets

All-Rookie second-team

D.J. Augustin, Bobcats
Eric Gordon, Clippers
Rudy Fernandez, Blazers
Michael Beasley, Heat
Marc Gasol, Grizzlies

UNC's trouncing of Michigan State a case study in match-ups - kinda

In recent years, this truth has become more and more evident: As Kenny Smith has been saying for years, and as Scoop Jackson first brought to my attention several years ago in a piece for SLAM magazine, basketball is all about match-ups.

For example, from 2005-2007, the three best teams in the NBA's Western Conference were the Dallas Mavericks, Phoenix Suns, and San Antonio Spurs.

The Mavs matched up well with the Spurs, who matched up well with the Suns, who matched up well with the Mavs.

In 2005, San Antonio made the Finals, because they were able to avoid Dallas, who was defeated by Phoenix in the second round, creating a Suns-Spurs Conference Finals which Tim Duncan's squad won, 4-1.

In 2006, Dallas made the Finals - but only because Phoenix was without Amare Stoudemire in their Conference Finals clash.

The Spurs made the Finals in 2007 - a huge factor being that the Mavericks had been upset in round one by the Warriors, meaning that San Antonio was able to avoid them in the Conference Finals.

Phoenix never made the championship round because they could not avoid San Antonio in 2005 and 2007 (and because Stoudemire was hurt in 2006).

The best team is the team that survives.

What happened in Detroit Monday night, where the North Carolina Tar Heels defeated the Michigan State Spartans, 89-72, to win their second national championship in the last five years, was similar to that NBA scenario. UNC jumped all over the Spartans, right from the start, and it became obvious what was happening: at the beginning of the season, Carolina played MSU at that same Ford Field and beat them 98-63, causing people to seriously wonder whether or not the Heels could run the table.

Now history was repeating itself, and it was clear Tom Izzo's kids simply had no chance against Roy Williams's. UNC was still bigger and better on the inside and bigger and better on the perimeter, and there was no amount of time that was going to change that. The Spartans fell behind by 24 in the first half, but never stopped playing hard - and yet even with their most earnest efforts they still could not get closer than 13. Tilting at windmills.

And that's the thing about basketball sometimes: Michigan State was a no. 2 seed, and they had defeated two no. 1 seeds to get to the final game against the Tar Heels (just as I had predicted in my bracket); but they could play this North Carolina team 100 times and I doubt if they would win more than once or twice.

Michigan State was closer to the team that defeated Louisville and Connecticut in consecutive games than they are the ones that got outclassed last night; Monday night, that didn't matter. Unluck of the draw.

Carolina, on the other hand, simply had the best team.

No opponent from this college basketball season was defeating the Tar Heels last night. Their sights were set on this night in April since a night last April, when their season ended at the hands of eventual champion Kansas in the semifinals. UNC returned everybody from that team, and by doing so positioned themselves as the preseason no. 1. They failed to distinguish themselves during the season, as many thought they would, but maybe they were just bored, waiting for March to begin.

They peaked during the tournament, winning every game by a double-digit margin.

As it turns out, the Heels were who we thought they were - they had the best talent (against Michigan State, I think they had the six best players in the game - their entire starting unit and freshman backup big man Ed Davis, who's a beast), this was their year, they were supposed to win, and they did.

They would have matched up well with anyone.

I'd say something nice about Roy Williams, but a coach that great deserves more than a paragraph or two.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go collect my earnings from my bracket beatdown of my family. I won $50 from my dad and grandmother.

Hey, it was a favorable match-up.

It's Not Wise To Bet Against LeBron James

LeBron James appeared on "60 Minutes" Sunday night, but before the episode aired you had probably already seen the clip of his miraculous circus shot. In it, James - while filming a segment with Steve Kroft at The House The King Built, a.k.a the gym of his alma mater, St. Vincent-St. Mary High School - effortlessly tosses a one-handed, underhanded shot into the basket from 60 feet away.

Swish.

If you or I were to make a shot like that, we would have no choice but to celebrate; it would be an organic reaction to making a miracle shot that we didn't really expect to make. But LeBron doesn't treat it like a lucky shot; in fact, he even shoots it like he knows it's going to go in. His response to its tickling off the net is both cocky and causal. Perhaps not surprisingly, then, LeBron has a reputation for making such trick baskets. These seemingly trivial feats make James seem like a mythic figure walking the earth, the kind of athlete my generations kids will tell their grand-kids legends about, fact mixed in with fiction. They make him seem like a modern-day Babe Ruth.

Which he pretty much is.

Should he win the MVP? Pfft. Don't insult him. Of course he should win the MVP. It's his birthright. He was literally put on this earth to collect Maurice Podoloff Trophy's. Sure, I can think of several reasons for both Dwyane Wade and Kobe Bryant as to why those two gentlemen are deserving of the award. But I can also think of one major reason why they are not: LeBron James. The "King" has learned to dominate on both ends, he's led a much improved (by the single acquisition of point guard Mo Williams) but still not great collection of teammates to the league's best record (61-14 through Thursday, a full two games ahead of Kobe and the Lakers), and he's having one of the best all-around statistical seasons anyone has ever had. He is the MVP. Just hand him the damn trophy now.

The real question should be, Can he walk on water?

By the time LeBron James was 16, he was already the best high school basketball player in the country, the only sophomore ever selected first-team All-American. As a junior he made the cover of Sports Illustrated, the venerable magazine dubbing him "The Chosen One." As a senior, he started the trend of ESPN airing high school games showcasing the nations best prep ballplayers. He entered the pro game amid an unprecedented level of scrutiny and expectation, which he couldn't possibly live up to, everyone thought. Afterall, he was only a kid.

And so in his very first NBA game, he put up a 25-6-9 against a championship-contending Sacramento squad. Thus began the legend of LeBron James. Everything that has followed since has been an extension of that night: One of the ten best players in the league by the end of his rookie season; top five by the end of his second; 31-7-6 in his third year, at 21; leading an otherwise horrific Cavs team to the Finals at 22; putting up a 30-8-7 last season; and this season, taking his game to yet another level and establishing himself as perhaps the best NBA player since Michael Jordan, even though he's still several years removed from the onset of his prime.

The moniker given to him by SI is now also a tattoo spread across his upper back, and I have already in this article given an effort to properly define his greatness by making an allusion to a feat accomplished only by Jesus. James does inspire sacrilege. As far as basketball players go, he may be the most God-like we've seen. His physical makeup, when conjoined with the nature of his athleticism, seems unreasonable. That someone so big and burly could also be so fast, quick, agile, and explosive does not seem anatomically possible. But through James we see that it is.

It would seem unlikely that a team as humbly composed as the Cavaliers of James' first five seasons could challenge, step for step, such superior (on paper) squadrons as the Chauncey Billups-led powerhouse Detroit Pistons and the current Boston Celtics. But they did.

Even this season, with the addition of Williams, Cleveland has overachieved. Williams is a very good point guard, but ideally, you'd want him as your third best player, not your second, especially if you planned on winning 65-plus games. And yet the Cavs march on, the best win total in team history and counting, more than any other reason because LeBron is, by his lonesome, better than many teams' two best players combined.

Here is the point: At Cleveland's media day back in September, James said of the Cavs championship aspirations, "There's not much of an excuse now." They have cruised through the regular season, and now the playoffs approach rapidly.

So, James' exploits being what they are, is there any reason to believe that his preseason stance will not result in a Cleveland championship?

As a Lakers fan, LeBron's words worried me. I took them as an ominous warning. Eight months later, I'm still scared, even though I think the Lakers have the best team.

The Cavs put the fear of LeBron in me.

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar: The (Relatively) Neglected Legend

He was arguably the greatest high school basketball player who ever lived - three consecutive New York City Catholic championships at the fabled Power Memorial High School in New York, New York, and certified phenom status.

He was almost certainly the greatest college basketball player of all-time - three Player of the Year awards and three national titles in three years playing for John Wooden at empirical UCLA (sorry, Big Red Head - you only won two titles).

And while Michael Jordan was the best NBA player to ever lace them up, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar was perhaps the most accomplished, with his 19 All-Star game appearances, 6 MVPs, and 6 championships, etc.

And yet, the basketball legend born Ferdinand Lewis Alcindor Jr. remains more than a tad bit underrated, and in his retirement, he has been something resembling blackballed.

Abdul-Jabbar was elegant and unstoppable on the court, and thoughtful, intelligent, and articulate off it. But he was also shy and moody - his mood tending to lean very heavily in the antisocial direction for most of his career, which led to his adversarial relationship with the media.

Abdul-Jabbar hasn't played basketball in 20 years, but that aspect of his personality still lingers and haunts him to this day, even if he has changed. And it hurts him on at least a couple of fronts.

Alcindor arrived in Westwood in 1966, to much fanfare. He was LeBron James before LeBron James. In his college debut (and the inaugural game at the brand-new Pauley Pavillion), Alcindor led the Bruins freshman team to a 15-point victory over the preseason no.1 ranked UCLA varsity, who had won the first two of Wooden's ten national titles in 1964 and 1965.

In each of his three seasons on the varsity, the Bruins would win the NCAA title, amassing a total of 88 wins versus only two losses during that span, with Alcindor averaging more than 26 points and 15 rebounds per game. In his senior year of 1969 Alcindor was awarded the initial Naismith Men's College Player of the Year Award, after winning the AP award the previous two seasons.

So awesome was Alcindor that the NCAA banned dunking after his freshman year, in a useless attempt to curb his dominance.

Drafted by the Milwaukee Bucks with the first overall selection in the 1969 NBA draft, Alcindor entered the pro ranks at an auspicious moment: on the heels of Bill Russell's retirement and at the toe's of Wilt Chamberlain's 33rd birthday. A window was on the verge of widely opening for a new giant to enter through and dominate the game, and carry on the tradition of great centers.

Alcindor did not disappoint. In his rookie season he averaged 29 points and 15 rebounds per game. In his second season he led the Milwaukee Bucks to their first and only NBA championship, winning the Finals MVP for his efforts in the 4-0 sweep of the Washington Bullets. The day after winning the championship, he officially changed his name to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, as part of a conversion to Islam that had taken place years prior.

But only the name on the back of the jersey would change, as Abdul-Jabbar would continue to play at his usual dominating level. During the 1970s, he won five regular season MVPs, and developed his signature move, the unblockable sky-hook, which would carry him to more than 38,000 points. In 1975 he would be traded to the Los Angeles Lakers, where he led a group of good, but not great, ballplayers to the playoffs several times with no championship success.

However, this would change in 1979, when a rookie guard named Magic Johnson joined the club. In their first season as teammates, Abdul-Jabbar, now 33, would win his final, and still record, sixth MVP award, and the Lakers would win the first of five titles during the 1980s. Six years later, he was still averaging more than 20 points per game. In 1985 he had won a second Finals MVP award, as the Lakers beat the Boston Celtics for the first time ever in the championship series, highlighted by Abdul-Jabbar's famous 30 point, 17 rebound, 8 assist, 3 block performance in a huge Game 2 win at Boston Garden - a direct response to a poor showing in Game 1's 148-114 loss, commonly referred to as the "Memorial Day Massacre."

Today, Abdul-Jabbar stands as the game's all-time leader in total points, field goals made, minutes played, and All-Star game selections, and being the complete player that he was, he also ranks in the top-five in total rebounds and blocks. Furthermore, he is the sole inventor of the most unstoppable shot in basketball history, as well as the only man to ever use it, let alone perfect it. His pro career was an achievement in longevity and conditioning; no one else has ever played so well for so long. And few were as great in their primes.

Which creates the contradiction.

In 2003, SLAM Magazine did a list ranking the 75 best players in NBA annals. And in this list they ranked Abdul-Jabbar...seventh. Seventh? How can someone with Abdul-Jabbar's resume be ranked only seventh? Fundamentally, it makes no sense. Sure, Magic was really the most indispensable player on the Showtime Lakers, and sure, Magic and Co. sort of carried him to those last two titles. But that is nitpicking. This was a clearly distinguished basketball player. Obviously, the list was in no way definitive, but it is consistent with the persistent undervaluing of Abdul-Jabbar's career.

My opinion? Despite his obvious greatness, Abdul-Jabbar was never beloved. But more importantly, he was never even liked by the media, whom he distrusted and avoided. And the fourth estate is the most powerful in all of sports. They are the ones who burnish the reputations and make the myths. At All-Star weekend, Phil Jackson, speaking of his once feuding former superstar duo, Shaquille O'Neal and Kobe Bryant, said, "The last man standing writes the history." This is so true. But here's the thing: The media will always be the last one's standing. They will outlast any athlete. And so they write the history. And so while they have not actively sought to sabotage Kareem, they also have not actively tried to pimp him, to cultivate his legend. He has never truly received the proper amount of attention, the kind of attention his exploits would seem to demand.

Which is why SLAM, a magazine founded in 1992, driven by writers who belong to the hip-hop era and the urban culture of the 1990s, ranked him at no. 7: not because they have any personal biases against a man that none of them likely ever covered or got to know very well, but because they have been impacted by the lack of recognition given to him by their older colleagues, who reported on him during his playing days and had the power to cultivate his legacy and ensure that he receive his just due, but did not.

In actuality, no basketball player, living or dead, had a more stellar overall career. But how often is that truth spoken?

What I cannot blame the media for, though, is Abdul-Jabbar's middling coaching career. He has been an assistant coach with the Los Angeles Clippers and the Seattle SuperSonics, and a scout with the New York Knicks. His only head coaching experience came in the USBL, where he led the Oklahoma Storm to the league championship in 2002. Since 2005 he has occupied a special position as a tutor for Lakers centers, specifically youngster Andrew Bynum, whom he has helped develop into one of the game's best pivots.

And yet, NBA teams remain reluctant to give Abdul-Jabbar a head coaching position, fearing that he does not have the requisite people skills for the job. He has mellowed considerably since his playing days, but the past is a hard thing to shake.

No one is to be accosted for this. Abdul-Jabbar cannot be faulted for his once distant nature, nor can any NBA general manager be faulted for having the doubts that they have about him. But it is unfortunate. Magic got to be a head coach in the NBA, as did Larry Bird, and Jerry West, and Bill Russell. Kareem wants to be a head coach in the NBA, but no one will hire him. And for that I feel sorry for him.

You'd think his illustrious list of achievements would have earned him a shot, just the respect that they signal for, but they haven't. But this shouldn't be surprising, because they also haven't earned him the recognition he deserves as basketball's all-time most decorated player. This congruence can be traced back to his personality. His star can't help but shine, but it doesn't shine as brightly as it should.

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar should be getting a better deal.

The Revenge of Dwyane "Omar" Wade

The way Dwyane Wade has been playing this season, he reminds me of Omar in seasons 1 and 5 of "The Wire." Offended by Baltimore's most prominent and ruthless drug dealers, his crew depleted, HBO's likable stickup artist goes on the hunt for revenge all by his lonesome. He more than held his own, did his share of killing, but was ultimately gunned down.

After two injury marred seasons, in which he missed a combined 62 games, you could almost say people had forgotten Dwyane Wade's name, or at least the way it made them feel only three years ago. And so, a chip on both shoulders, Flash set out this season to refresh memories. He has succeeded. His body leaner than ever, with hops and quickness fully intact and a new weapon - a perfected 20-foot jump shot, his version of Omar's trusty shotgun - at his disposal, Mr. Wade is having one of the best year's of any player this decade.

The one man on a one-man team, Wade has dragged the Heat into contention. They are 33-29, fifth place in the East and only a game and a half out of home-court advantage in the first round of the playoffs. Bet on Wade getting them that spot. Coming into Saturday's game against Cleveland, he was averaging 29.5 points (first in the league), 5.1 rebounds, 7.5 assists (third), 2.2 steals (third) and 1.4 blocks (21st). The points, assists, steals, and blocks are all career-highs. He has scored 40 or more points in a league-best nine games. He is on pace to record the most swats ever for a player 6-4 or shorter.

On February 22nd, he scored a career-best 50 against the Magic in Orlando (albeit in a 23 point defeat). In the nine games heading into Saturday, he was averaging 36.4 points and 10.6 assists on 57.8 shooting from the field! When's the last time anyone put up numbers like that over two weeks?

Always a fearless competitor, Wade has been downright bloodthirsty this year. He's been on a mission. The Heat have a rookie head coach. They start a rookie point guard. Their second leading scorer is a rookie, and he only averages 14 points per game. Their second best player for the first half of the season was Shawn Marion, who's either past his prime at the age of 30 or was simply of greatly diminished value to them in their half-court style of play. Near the trade deadline he was dealt to Toronto in exchange for Jermaine O'Neal, also 30, who is about half the player he once was.

And yet, the Heat remain above water, all because Wade has ascended to a level of play matched by few guards in the last 30 years.

As a pure scorer, Wade, 27, now most closely resembles a first-three-peat-era Michael Jordan. But while MJ was a true two, Wade is a throwback to the 60s, when there was no such thing as "point guard" (well, other than Bob Cousy, I guess) or "shooting guard" - backcourt players were simply called "guards." Thus, we'd have to go back further than 30 years to find the last time a pure "guard" was playing as well: Jerry West, when he was wreaking havoc with the Lakers.

But here's the thing: As we inch closer to the playoffs, we get nearer the time of year when Wade does his best work. He's been a killer since way back, especially in the postseason. He put himself on the map during his sophomore year in college, when he dropped a 29-11-11 on top-ranked, top-seeded Kentucky to advance Marquette to the Final Four (it was only the third triple-double in NCAA tournament history).

His rookie year in the NBA he led a young Miami team that had gone only 42-40 during the regular season to the second round of the playoffs, where they gave a 61-win Indiana team all they could handle and he authored his famous facial on Jermaine O'Neal, one of the best postseason posterizations of the decade (you may also remember the game-winner he hit against the Hornets in the first round - sorry, Baron).

The next year he (along with Shaq) got the Heat within a game of the Finals, and the following spring he would take down all comers - his performance in the championship series against Dallas one of the greatest of all-time (35, 8, and 4 in a 4-2 win for Miami). 'Bron, Howard, Paul, even Kobe - none of them has a Finals MVP trophy. He does.

In other words, if you are an East playoff team, you should have a healthy fear of Mr. Wade this spring. He may be outnumbered, but as he's been showing us all year, he's still got it. In fact, he's more dangerous than ever. Wade's been kicking ass all year, but what better way for him provide exclamation for his mini-comeback than to win a series in the playoffs, then make one of the East's big dogs sweat some in the second round.

It'd be like watching Omar terrorize Marlo Stanfield and crew by himself. Maybe the odds would beat him in the end, but it would nonetheless make for some riveting TV.

The Ongoing Disgracing of Allen Iverson

First, the Pistons traded for him, and asked him to fit into a system that is not meant for him, that has never been meant for him, that is the polar opposite of a system that he could ever fit into. They were asking him to, at 33 and in his thirteenth season, become a player that is the antithesis of the player he has always been.

They struggled, a perennial powerhouse fading into mediocrity.

Then, Allen Iverson got hurt.

The Pistons have now won three in a row without him, with Rip Hamilton reclaiming his starting position in The Answer's absence.

When he comes back from a back injury, Allen Iverson will accept a role off the bench, per the request of his head coach, and the sake of his team.

Four-time scoring champion, owner of the third highest scoring average in NBA history, former MVP, and he's being treated like some kind of chump.

If you asked Allen Iverson to speak with an honest tongue (meaning if you just asked him a question), he'd probably tell you this has been the most unfair season of his career, as well as the one in which he's felt the most disrespected.

How was he ever going to fit in in Detroit if they were going to use him like they have? When the deal was made, I thought the Pistons would be the perfect fit for him. But I assumed the Pistons brass, namely new head coach Michael Curry, would be cognizant of the fact that they had to tailor their structure to accommodate Iverson, not the other way around.

Iverson has always been a player who dominated the ball in his team's offense, and his most accomplished season came in 2001 in Philly, when he was surrounded by one great defensive star (Dikembe Mutombo, acquired halfway through the season for shotblocker Theo Ratliff) and a bunch of role players (Tyrone Hill, George Lynch, Eric Snow, Matt Geiger, Todd MacCullough, Jumaine Jones, Raja Bell, and Kevin Ollie) who not only weren't scorers, but embraced the fact that none of them were going to have many opportunities to be one. Iverson accounted for about a third of the team's shot attempts, and everyone else picked up the scraps and did the dirty work. And A.I. won his only MVP as Philly won 56 games and made the Finals.

Now, he was going to the team long acknowledged and praised as the most cohesive in basketball, because of the ability of their key players to perform their roles so well, always within the framework of the team. The Joe Dumars Pistons of this early 21st century will always be remembered as a fiercely strong unit of five, who eschewed the notion of any superstar pecking order and stood as a shining example of basketball in its most idealistic form. In other words, they were all unselfish.

Three of the Pistons famed starting five remained - Tayshaun Prince, Rasheed Wallace, and Hamilton. Prince and Wallace are just like the people Iverson played with in Philly, only much more talented. Both of them are capable of more impressive individual statistics, but neither of them has the personality to even assert themselves (sometimes to the detriment of the team, actually), let alone put their own interest over that of the team. They just want to do the little things.

Hamilton is a scorer, but not a one-on-one player - he thrives off of his ability to score without the ball.

Here's what the Pistons should have done: started Iverson and Hamilton at the guards, with Prince, Wallace, and whoever up front, then play Prince at the point forward and make him responsible for finding Rip on those curl screens and feeding Sheed for the occasional post-up.

Instead, the Pistons are 30-29, and A.I. is looking like the fall guy.

Granted, we don't even really know how good Allen Iverson is anymore. Playing in the Detroit system, where they ask you to be one of five, has obviously hindered Allen's scoring average. And his shooting percentage is the lowest it's been since 2004. And his quiet accordance with his pending demotion to substitute status suggests that maybe he realizes he is past his prime. Or maybe he's just desperate and willing to do whatever it takes to win as he understands that time is beginning to work against him in his quest to win a championship. But something tells me Allen Iverson could still average 25 points a game, given the green light.

And sure, he may prove to be a huge asset to Detroit as their sixth man. Afterall, at least on paper, few players have ever been better suited for the Barbosa-Gordon-Microwave super-net-soaker role than Iverson. He's overqualified for that role.

But the fact remains that he's Allen Freaking Iverson - to paraphrase Mark Jackson, Don't you know his name? You know his work - and at the very least he's still good enough that he shouldn't have anyone even asking him to come off the bleeping bench. He deserves better. But I guess Snoop was right when she said deserve ain't got nothing to do with it.

Bryant's 61 Reminds Us Of His Greatness

Just when I thought that I couldn't possibly write any more words, when I thought I was burned out after producing three full-length articles in a week and wouldn't even try to muster another one for at least another week, Kobe Bryant dropped 61 points on the Knicks in New York and left me no choice.

It was the most ever scored at Madison Square Garden, surpassing the 60 former 'Bocker great Bernard King scored there on Christmas Day, 1984 (when he was maybe one of the top three players alive, along with Magic and Bird).

In a season in which LeBron James has received more press attention and admiration, surpassed him in the eyes of many as the game's best player, and been touted as the man who will succeed him as league MVP, it only took one mind-boggling performance for Kobe Bryant to remind everyone that he's still Kobe Freaking Bryant and he hasn't gone anywhere, and won't be going anywhere soon.

Known for his icy on-court intensity, Mr. Bryant looked as serious and focused on this night as he has during any single game of his brilliant, 13-year career. Earlier Monday it was announced that center Andrew Bynum would miss two to three months with (another) serious knee injury. After his instantly classic performance Bryant explained that he wanted to make sure his team didn't come out flat against the Knicks as a result of the bad news.

He succeeded, scoring 18 of Los Angeles' 31 first quarter points, as I planned a column for later in the week on Bryant's greatness. Then he scored 16 more in the second period as the Lakers took an 11-point halftime lead. After 12 more in the third and 15 in the fourth, Bryant had set a new Garden record, with a point total that will remind all New Yorkers of a deceased Yankee who also set a mark, and had a career, defined by the number 61 (although of course that record has now fallen).

And I had no choice but to write that article now.

Most great, great NBA players have been content with allowing their natural abilities to decline, watching the younger generation of superstars assume their positions, and fading into retirement satisfied with their accomplishments, then waiting five years before accepting their induction into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall-of-Fame.

Not men like Bryant and Michael Jordan, maniacally competitive athletes inherently obsessed with being the best. Jordan reshaped his game as he hit his mid-30s, becoming a dead-eye jump shooter and perhaps the game's all-time deadliest guard post player, relying on his textbook fundamentals and supreme basketball intelligence to combat the fact that he was no longer an acrobat. All of this was done in an intelligent, calculated effort to maintain his eminence.

Similarly, Bryant is now 30 and as a result of his early entry into the league and the large number of postseason games he has played in, possesses more mileage than the average player that age. And so, while still a very gifted athlete, Bryant is no longer quite the explosive leaper he once was. Furthermore, and maybe even more importantly, Bryant realizes that aggressively attacking the basket will only add to the wear and tear on his body and make him more easily fatigued later on down the line.

So Bryant, like Jordan before him, has made the jump shot his best friend, and we all wish we had best friend's like Kobe Bryant's jump shot. It has become so accurate that he is currently shooting the best floor percentage of his career (48 percent). It was on full display in Gotham, as he sliced the Knicks to pieces with a barrage of short and mid-range jumpers. He shot 19-of-31 overall, including 3-of-6 from deep, and made all 20 of his free throws.

His footwork and ballhandling is flawless, and his ingenuity is unmatched, so he can create an opportunity for a shot, as well as the space he needs to get off a good look, at any time. The smartest player in the league, Bryant is canny as hell and always keeps a defender off-balance. And so when the occasion occurs, he'll still use his explosive first step to drive past his defender and to the hoop. He even moves well without the ball.

Kobe is playing a game of cat and mouse on the basketball court, and on this night, like virtually every other, he was Jerry and the man guarding him (most notably Wilson Chandler, who was the most scorched) was Tom.

Along the way, Bryant surpassed MJ's visiting player record of 55. It was his 25th career 50+ point game, moving him within five of Jordan's 30 for second most all-time (behind Wilt Chamberlain's 6,000, or however many he had). One can only wonder how many Bryant would have if he hadn't spent eight seasons sharing shots with Shaq.

It was also the fifth sixty point game of his career (all coming in the last three seasons).

He may be the best pure scorer ever, and he's a better player than he's ever been.

Monday night, he redirected our attention to his greatness.

LeBron plays there Wednesday night.

A Night To Remember

The query is sure to be thrown around.

Was that the best Super Bowl game ever played?

If it wasn't definitively, an argument can be made that it definitively was, and at the very least, it was as good as any ever.

Cardinals-Steelers couldn't have matched Giants-Patriots in terms of historical scope, even if the long suffering Cards had won. Super Bowl XLII had more at stake. But in terms of sheer, pound-for-pound excitement, it can't possibly be surpassed. It was a spectacle of a football game to behold.

It had it all.

We had Kurt Warner and Larry Fitzgerald giving heroic performances in a crushing loss, the Cardinals quarterback earning his Canton bust despite the outcome, the Cardinals receiver taking over the fourth quarter as only he and a handful of receivers in the history of the league could.

But then we had MVP Santonio Holmes matching Fitzgerald step-for-step, catching four passes on the Steelers' game-winning drive, including the touchdown, then celebrating by mimicking LeBron James' famous pre-game ritual (the gesture lost on Madden and Michael's).

Before Sunday's tipoff, anybody who said that Ben Roethlisberger wasn't a great quarterback was merely mistaken; now, they just look foolish (more on this in a second).

We had a 100-yard interception return for a touchdown, a ton of penalites (none of which proved to be too costly), an improbable rally by the underdog that sent one fan base into a temporary catatonic state, followed by an immediate response that will permanently damage another.

My heart was pounding and my city doesn't even have a professional football team; for Cardinals and Giants fans the unfolding drama must have been nearly unbearable.

Mixed in between we even had a few memorable commercials.

Warner has now recorded the top-3 single-game passage yardage performances in SB history. He has led three teams to the Big Game, one of them the NFL's version of the Los Angeles Clippers, and he nearly won it for them. In this one, Warner finished 31-of-43 for 377 yards, 3 touchdowns, and 1 interception, rallied his team back from a 20-7 fourth quarter deficit against the league's best defense, and cemented his place in the Pro Football Hall-of-Fame.

His playmate Fitzgerald provided further proof to the adage that you can't keep a good man down for long, dominating the fourth quarter after being held in check for the first three. His line: 7 catches for 127 yards and two scores, both of them in the final frame. We may call him the best football player alive.

Timeout:

My favorite commercials of the night:

3. Cars.com: David Abernathy - At childbirth, David congratulates the doctor on a perfect delivery with a handshake (among other impressive feats, but he still can't decide on a car any better than the rest of us).

2. Pepsi Max: I'm Good - No matter what unfortunate accident befalls man - whether it be getting hit with a backswing, having a bowling ball dropped on their head, or being electrocuted and ejected from the top of a ladder and violently slammed off the side of a truck - they can take it. What they couldn't take is "the taste of diet Cola - until now."

1. E*Trade: Talking Baby - You know, the business savvy (not to mention absoultely adorable) little baby at the computer who gives investment tips. This time he's joined by a friend, who blesses us with a little rendition of the song "Broken Wings," which was once sampled on this posthumous Tupac track.

Time in.

We all knew that Holmes was a very good young receiver and dangerous deep threat, but I, for one, had no idea he was capable of taking over the last three minutes of the Super Bowl. 9 catches for 131 yards and the season's winning touchdown reception. Holmes may never be as dominant, at least on a consistent basis, as he was in the pressure-cooker moments of Sunday night's affair, but for at least one evening he was legendary.

On NBC's pre-game telecast, guest analyst Rodney Harrison stated that Roethlisberger was not a great quarterback but a great football, which could possibly be interpreted as a backhanded compliment. But John Elway wasn't really a great quarterback, either, in the pocket-passer sense - at least not as a young player, as all of his best pure throwing seasons came after the age of 32).

And besides, everyone seems to be ignoring a strong mitigating factor in the whole "Ben not that really that good," "Ben game-manager," and "Ben Troy Aikman in black and yellow" (another back-handed compliment) case: in 2007, Ben threw for 32 touchdowns and only 11 picks, for a stellar by any standard 104.1 QB rating.

When you add in the fact that he just won his second Super Bowl before the age of 27 by leading his team downfield at the end of the game in a Tom Brady-like manner (though not as stoically cool), it's safe to say that not only is he a great football player, but a great quarterback as well.

When Arizona made their unlikely comeback to take the lead in the fourth, I thought to myself that maybe I was right, that the Cards, underdogs four weeks in a row, really were a team of destiny.

But how many times have we seen a team make a furious rally to gain the lead in the fourth quarter of a football ballgame, only for the other team to respond on the ensuing drive and win in the end, anyway?

We saw it just two weeks ago, in the NFC Championship Game, with the Cardinals on the other end of the equation.

And one of the best game's of this past college football season was Texas-Texas Tech, with Texas gamely fighting back against Tech, getting the lead, then getting their hearts ripped out in the end.

I was prepared for either scenario to be the final story of the game. Obviously, it was the latter.

Now, the night belongs to history.

It was one to remember.

Warriors Best of NBA's Worst

Friday night on ESPN, you may have witnessed the Golden State Warriors, with a record of a mere 14 wins versus 32 losses, beat the Hornets, 28 and 14 and one of the best teams in the Western Conference, in New Orleans. This may have seemed like a freak occurrence, but in actuality, it was not.

The recent return of guard Monta Ellis to the G-State lineup has spurred the Warriors to action; while he hasn't played particularly well, his very presence on the court and in uniform seems to have galvanized the team. You can see it in their play. Hey, their best player is back.

If it hadn't been for Bronzino doing his best Black Cat impersonation against them at the Oracle last Saturday, they would have succeeded in shooting down arguably the best team in basketball. And now let's take a look at this squad: there's Monta, there's Crawford, there's Jack, there's Maggette, there's Auzubike. All of these guys can score, meaning they will only naturally thrive playing Nellieball (as anyone reasonable gifted offensive player would).

Right now, they are the best of the NBA's bad teams. And assuming they don't trade Jack (and they may or may not), going forward, they're going to win some basketball games. They'll beat up on most of the really terrible teams, and every now and then they'll sneak up and take out one of the contenders.

So, in what has been a very difficult season to be a Warriors fan, at least they have a solid second half of the season to look forward to, as their team pulls off some upsets and potentially plays spoiler in April. It's not like I think they could beat any really good team in a seven-game series, but the point is, on any given night, the Warriors are good enough that they could defeat anybody and it shouldn't be that shocking.

Better than being a Wizards fan.

A brief glimpse at the outlook of some other poor teams:

Sacramento (10-38): At least they have Jason Thompson, the rookie steal who for some reason reminds me of a taller Shareef Abdur-Rahim. This probably means that the Kings won't win many games during the Jason Thompson Era, but at least they made a good draft pick.

L.A. Clippers (10-37): Love Eric Gordon. Great shooter, and he can absolutely play the two because despite being 6-3, he's strong as hell and a really good athlete. Even better, he's competitive as hell - you can tell that he hates losing. He wears it on his face and you can see it in his body language.

Memphis (11-35): Well, I'm a strong advocate of O.J. Mayo, whom I think is a future franchise guy, but he seems to have marginalized Rudy Gay a bit (hasn't gotten any better this year). I like Marc Gasol, a beefier, more physical, less skilled version of his brother, Pau. And I think it's good that new head coach Lionel Hollins has made Mike Conley the starter at the point - I still think he's going to be very good, he's just one of those one's that has a longer learning curve. Not everyone is Derrick Rose.

Minnesota (16-29): I love Big Al, but he's not a center - Andrew Bynum dominated him on both ends Friday night when they were both in the game. It's not Al's fault; he's only 6-9. Bynum is 7-1. Problem is, Love isn't any taller than Jefferson, meaning they're going to be playing two power forwards and will always be undersized against teams with true centers. Love will rebound with anybody, but he's not guarding any five's.

And Roy for Foye is beginning to look like the underrated one-sided draft day trade of the past 15 years. Plus, Brewer is hurt and was looking like a bust last year.

At least they've finally found a good coach.

Oklahoma City (11-36): Durant is a STAR, but he doesn't make his team any better. I don't want to hear that he's only 20, or that he was only 19 as a rookie. LeBron and Carmelo came into the league under similar circumstances - teenaged saviors of horrifically bad teams - and both of them made their teams better immediately, and kept them that way. Durant is an awesome talent, but he needs to help his team win more games.

Other than that, I must say that I absolutely love Russell Westbrook. I don't even know who he reminds me of. The guy he's most compared to is Monta Ellis, but Westbrook is stronger, better defensively, and more of a true point. The guy's a future All-Star, he's made a believer out of me.

Washington (10-37): Put it this way: Even if Agent Zero were playing, they'd still suck. Totally screwed up.

And now I gotta thank God that it looks like Andrew Bynum is going to be okay.

Enjoy the Super Bowl. I got 'Zona. Feels like destiny.

You're An All-Star In My Book, Baby!

I like for all of my articles to have a good opening paragraph. This particular column will not feature one. A single man's take on the reserves for the 2009 NBA All-Star Game in Phoenix, announced Thursday on TNT:

Western Conference

F Dirk Nowitzki, Mavs - An easy selection: 26 points and 8 boards nightly, on 47/37/92 shooting percentages.

F Pau Gasol, Lakers - The NBA's latest, greatest super supporting player - he's like James Worthy, only 7-0 and Spanish with a scraggly beard. Oh, and somebody needs to send him some goggles and a knee pad, pronto. Consistent as all hell, Gasol gives you an 17 and 9 with 3 assists on 55 percent from the floor.

G Tony Parker, Spurs - Maybe a bit underrated at this point.

G Brandon Roy, Blazers - Joe Johnson West, with a surprisingly blistering first step.

C Shaquille O'Neal, Suns - He's found that fountain - he hasn't been this good since Miami won the whole damn 'chip. Who was expecting an 18 and 9 from Shaq this year? Even been logging about 34 minutes per for the past month and a half.

G Chauncey Billups, Nuggets - The man can run a basketball team. With Billups and Mike Bibby around, Sam Cassell's "steady, stabilizing veteran point guard" is in good hands.

F David West, Hornets - Now it gets tricky.

When it was announced that the "19-foot Assassin" would be making his second consecutive appearance (and he was the last Western player to be revealed), I immediately said "I know I can find some forward that's more deserving than David West." Turns out I could only come up with one forward - Big Al Jefferson, the league's most gifted young low post scorer, currently throwing up a 23-11 on a 16-28 Minny squadron.

As I wrote earlier this week, I don't have a problem with a couple of guys from bad teams playing in the All-Star Game. And that's especially the case if there's a spot that's clearly wide open.

I think this was one of those cases. The other six reserve picks were no-brainers; so I felt that the last one was a toss-up between Jefferson (who's probably a better player than West), and if not him than Deron Williams, if only because Williams is so underrated it's frustrating and he should have made it to the team the past two seasons but didn't. You have to admit, it's pretty ridiculous that Deron Williams has never been an All-Star before. Everyone agrees that he's the second best point guard in the world, but he still doesn't get nearly the recognition he deserves. It's confusing.

Now if you'll allow me a second...

I don't really know how to explain this, but the Shaq, Kobe, Phil reunion that is now officially going to be taking place next month is going to make for the most awkward and disappointing and slightly depressing moments of my career as a sports fan.

What am I to do if Kobe happens to feed Shaq on one of their patented "wrap-around-the-defender's-back-drop-off-and-jam" hookups?

Or if they relive "the lob...to Shaq!" which Bob Costas immortalized during Game 7 of the 2000 Western Finals against Portland?

Or if the three conspire to win the game at the end?

They clearly had unfinished business. This is an unfitting end. I am not looking forward to this.

Eastern Conference

F Paul Pierce, Celtics - Easy choice - 19 points, 6 boards, 4 assists, strong D - he's the second best small forward in the NBA. One of my favorite players in the league.

"C" Chris Bosh, Raptors - Because there was no East center that really and truly deserved this spot, I guess the coaches decided that they would just vote Bosh in as a center, even though he's not. I guess it was the best thing to do, though it does smell a little like a cop out.

Make no mistake; Bosh deserves to make the team. I think some players deserve to make the roster as long as they're healthy, and Bosh has reached that point, in my book.

David Lee is probably having the best year of all East centers - 16 points and 12 boards nightly, on 57 percent from the field. Ilgauskus has been hurt, and Lee has been simply been better than Okafor and Bogut. He's also on a 20-25 team, and the East squad already has three members on teams under .500 - which matters to me, but not the coaches, apparently.

But I like to go with a "feel" test in a situation like this - I don't like to give guys their first All-Star berth for their first arguable All-Star season, unless it's inherently obvious that they are All-Stars. Does David Lee feel like an All-Star to you? Me, neither.

G Joe Johnson, Hawks - Great player, definite All-Star...but blah.

Devin Harris, Nets - He's cooled off since a scorching start. He's been awarded an All-Star berth for the scorching start.

G Jameer Nelson, Magic - We'll get back to him.

F Danny Granger, Pacers - Love this guy. Keeps getting better. Definitely one of the five best small forwards in the league, and of all the guys on poor teams that garnered All-Star consideration, he was the most worthy.

F Rashard Lewis, Magic - We'll get to him right now.

First of all, Mo Williams has got to be an All-Star. Orlando has three All-Stars, Boston has two All-Stars, Cleveland has...one. Jameer Nelson does more for the Magic than Williams does for the Cavs? Other than LeBron taking a step forward and establishing himself as the best player since MJ, Mo Williams has been the ultimate reason Cleveland has gone from a one-man team that could beat anybody in a seven-game series because of that one man, to a true team that could potentially win 65 games.

I actually think Jameer should be in - he's been more important to Orlando's rise to prominence than Rashard, who, no disrespect meant at all, I would have left out in favor of Mo.

But that's just me.

A Few Things On My Mind

After more than three weeks off, I'm back (not that you ever noticed I was gone). A few rather unconnected (except no.'s 1 and 6) NBA topics that have caught hold of my brain, but I couldn't concoct single articles out of.

1. Kevin Durant's Meaningless Brilliance

The aspect of Durant's game that, while a focus point of praise for him since his days at Texas I still feel is somewhat underrated, is his unbelievable versatility. At UT, Durant got his points pretty much the same way he does now - skilled attacking from the perimeter, with a smooth jump shot. But aside from that, there has been very little carry over. In college, Durant jumped the opening tip and played near the basket on defense, blocked nearly two shots per game, and controlled the defensive glass (11 boards per; he also averaged nearly two steals). He didn't have much ballhandling responsibility, and didn't even bother passing the ball. I'm not saying he was selfish; he was just performing his role, and passing the ball was not one of his responsibilities.

That's why last year, while watching him in an early season tilt against the Clips in LA, when P.J. Carlisemo had him manning the two-spot, I was startled by his very legitimate guard skills: there was one play where he casually dribbled the ball upcourt and initiated the offense, and it didn't seem unnatural at all. And he proved to be a pretty decent passer, and of course he guarded other shooting guards - I'm not saying he did a good job, but all that matters is that he did it. So although as a whole I would say that his rookie year was underwhelming (he didn't have a game with double-digit rebounds once all of last season), it was still inherently amazing to me.

This year he's only gotten better - late last season he cut back on his three-point attempts, which has continued into this year, only he's shooting them much more efficiently. And P.J.'s ousting and his subsequent move to the froncourt has boosted his rebounding.

But here's the point: How many guys do you know that could go from playing what basically equated to some kind of virtuoso center in college (like Dirk on the 2004 Mavs) to a full-time two/three in the pros? How many? Seriously?

Of course, he doesn't make his team any better, so he's still kind of overrated. Yet highly impressive at the same time.

2. Mayo v. Love

You know who O.J. Mayo reminds me of? A miniature version of the neophyte Kobe Bryant. No. 1, he's fearless. No. 2, he's a ballhog. No. 3, he's a fierce competitor. And No. 4, he's obsessed with the game of basketball. Like Mamba, his entire life revolved around one day making it to this point, where he would make it to the NBA and be a superstar at the highest level of hoop. Like Young Kobe, Mayo has, ostensibly, a single-minded approach to the game right now - he's still in that phase where his main objective is becoming the best basketball player he can become, and that does come at the expense of his teammates. But he'll continue to get better and mature, just like Kobe did - and the kid's got superstar written all over him.

His quick jump out the gate has cast a negative shadow over Kevin Durant, the man for whom he was traded for on draft night. Pundits see Love as paling in comparison, and he has fallen under some scrutiny.

But while Love may never develop into a franchise player, like Mayo seems destined to become, we must also realize that this isn't the second coming of Roy for Foye. Love is an extremely gifted rebounder (8.3 per in only 22.7 minutes a night through Saturday), and once he improves the other parts of his game and starts playing more minutes and becomes more experienced, he will average an easy double-double for the next 15 years - I'm talking something like 15 and 13 - and he's going to help a good team win basketball games one day.

I'd take Kevin Love and his future any day of the week.

3. LeBron v. Kobe

Has LeBron James surpassed Kobe Bryant for title of Best Basketball Player in the World? In a word, yes, and I'm from Los Angeles. LeBron has added some Kobe to his game this year - he's diversified his offensive portfolio, implementing an improved mid-range jump shot and some pretty slick one-on-one moves to the greatest power game any wing player has ever had. And he's become an absolutely devastating man defender, having on several occasions already this season taken elite opposing small forwards completely out of the game offensively.

To wit:

12/5 v. Indiana: Granger 2/7 FG, 4 Pts
12/19 v. Denver: Melo 5/14 FG, 13 Pts
1/09 v. Boston: Pierce 4/15 FG, 11 Pts
1/13 v. Memphis: Gay 5/18 FG, 10 Pts

Put more simply, Kobe Bryant has never dominated basketball games on both ends of the court, for 48 minutes, on a consistent basis, like LeBron is doing this season.

Of course, this is no knock on Mamba. We all knew that LeBron would one day catch and then pass Kobe as the game's top player. It was inevitable. But Kobe is more dangerous than ever. He doesn't have the same bounce he once had, but he's crafty as hell and I think he's the second best shooter in the game, behind Dirk. What other NBA player is better shooting from all over the floor, with a hand in their face? Think about it for a second. No one. And as the great Mark Heisler once noted, there's nothing more important in basketball than the ability to shoot. When MJ came back for the first time, no longer an acrobat at 32, he was, as Heisler called it, a "Larry Bird-level shotmaker," which made him better than ever. Think of Kobe the same way.

Furthermore, the man is so lethal at the end of games that it's almost spooky, even scarier than it was before. We're lucky he always wanted to play basketball; if he weren't in the NBA, his famed "killer's instinct" might be manifesting itself in the form of actual murder. By far, he's still the guy you'd want at the end of a game.

4. Pau Gasol

I've been thinking about this one.

Doug Collins wondered during TNT's MLK day broadcast of the Lakers and Cavs, "Is there a more skilled big man than Pau Gasol?" Immediately, I considered Duncan, whom I think is better with his back to the basket because he's stronger and can always get the position he wants. Gasol can't; he's not strong enough or physical enough. But then again, you could make the argument that that has nothing to do with skill.

And so Gasol may be the game's most skilled big. He's an almost automatic mid-range and faceup jump shooter - even better than TD, believe it or not. And he's just got a ton of finesse moves: a spin move, hook shots, short turnarounds, fakes, you name it. He can finish around the hoop with either hand and is one hell of a passer. So, yeah. Pau Gasol. Might be the game's most skilled big.

5. Greg Oden

Not to infringe on Simmons' territory here, but I watched the 2007 NCAA Championship game with my dad, and we both marveled at Mr. Oden's body and athleticism, which reminded both of us of a young David Robinson. He shredded Florida's big man threesome of Joakim Noah, Al Horford, and Chris Richard (about as mighty a trio of college big men as you'll see on one team) to the tune of 25 points and 12 rebounds in a truly awesome performance (even though they lost). That night, I became convinced that Oden was the next great NBA center.

But then he hurt his knee, and not only has it created serious doubts that he'll ever stay healthy as a pro, but, at least so far, it seems to have robbed him of the explosiveness that once made him such a freak of nature (which microfracture surgery is known to do, of course). Dude's a monster - a legit 7-1 (I'm not sure if he's grown any since college, but it looks like he has), and he's bulked up since his one season at OSU: he was ripped as a Buckeye, now he's just big. So he's still a man amongst boys around the basket. But I've yet to see any flashes of a young D-Rob from him this season; he just doesn't have the same turbulence . Maybe it's gone for good, maybe he'll get some of it back, like Amare has. Suffice it to say I'm disappointed by the whole ordeal.

Furthermore, he can't stay on the court even when he's able - he's always in foul trouble. He and Andrew Bynum have a lot in common. I know he's only a rookie and I know he hadn't played organized ball in a year, but even with that being said, is it too much to expect a 15-9-2 from a guy who was compared to Bill Russell, no excuses and no questions asked?

He's averaging 14.9 points and 11.2 rebounds in games that he played more than 30 minutes, so we know he can play, but he's only played in nine such games out of 37. He's got to do better. 9 points and 7 rebounds a game is not cutting it.

I know the previous four paragraphs have been rather negative, but I sincerely hope, I sincerely want for this guy to pan out. I know it's unrealistic, but I want every NBA player to realize his potential, especially one that once looked the future centerpiece of five NBA championship teams.

6. How much should winning matter when you're determining All-Stars?

Inspired by this past Thursday's edition of the NBA on TNT (featuring an Emmy-worthy guest appearing from "The Glove" himself, Gary Payton). So, just how much should team success factor into this individual honor? Personally, I think to try and argue that record is irrelevant in the matter is absurd. It's okay to have a couple guys from poor teams fill out the All-Star rosters, but there should never be more than a couple, and they should never start.

For example, GP thinks Al Jefferson should start at forward for the West (over Tim Duncan, for the love of God). One huge problem here: even after winning nine of their last eleven, Big Al's T'Wolves are still only 15-27. If Jefferson were really the kind of guy that should be starting in the All-Star game, would his team be 15-27? Of course not. Remember KG in Minny, T-Mac in Orlando, and AI in Philly? All of those guys took below average teams and, by virtue of their skill and will, made them at least average. And in the years that those players were on teams that were well below .500 at the break (like McGrady in 2004), guess what? They didn't deserve to start. Period.

So sorry Big Al, sorry Danny Granger, sorry Chris Bosh (having something of a fluke year because he's a franchise player), and last but definitely not least, sorry GP. I never meant to hurt you.

Celtics Need Intimidating Nickname

I never knew the color green could be so intimidating.

These modern-day Boston Celtics scare the living hell out of me. Out of all the teams in the league, they're the most deadly serious. The Lakers are a young, affable, goofy bunch. In their own unique ways, Pau Gasol, Vladimir Radmonovic, Sasha Vujacic, Lamar Odom, Andrew Bynum and even Jordan Farmar are all stupid, but likably so. You can tell they're good, unthreatening guys.

The Spurs are totally business-like and professional, but emanate class, dignity, and humility. We know they're good guys, always have been (except that damn Bowen).

The Celtics, on the other hand, seem unapproachable. If I saw a person on the street that carried the same disposition one of these Celtics displays on the court, I'd look for someone else to give me directions. Boston is like the tough antagonist team in sports movies or TV sitcoms that you're supposed to root against, that appears on screen for the first time walking in slow motion. Basketball fans know that once the buzzer sounds, the C's are cooperative gentlemen. But we know that only because we follow the sport. The casual fan, flicking channels and happening upon one of their games, isn't going to be able to decipher that.

Starting with KG, and trickling on down the line, the Celts ooze intensity. And not just in their faces, but in their play. I have never seen a more aggressive defense. Sometimes, like during the Christmas Day tilt with the Lakers, it goes from simply stalwart to spectacular. It's like their defense starts attacking the other team's offense, Boston's swarming, smothering athleticism and contesting of every shot overwhelming. It happens when the C's are making a run, they always close it out with defensive rebounds, and if they're on the road you'll hear a lot of hooting and hollering from their bench.

The Celtics get a lot of flack for hooting and hollering, but that's more annoying than intimidating. Kendrick Perkins, an excellent role player, needs to shut the hell up. Seriously. Just because you won one championship averaging six points and six rebounds on a team with Garnett, Pierce, and Ray Allen doesn't mean you're Shaquille O'neal. And Kevin, I must admonish you also: There's no need for all that nonsense. I don't play favorites.

Of course, the Celtics, who lead the league in technical fouls, wouldn't behave so brashly if they weren't so damned good and couldn't back it up. I didn't truly believe that the Lakers would pull out that close Dec. 25 game until they did. After losing in Portland Tuesday night, the C's are now 8-1 in games decided by fewer than nine points. Nothing fazes them. They're the iciest team in basketball. We knew Pierce and Allen were assassins, but have you seen KG this year? Last spring he played through the most important games of his career and was shaky in the biggest moments (that's always been the biggest knock on him), but his team achieved the ultimate success, and thus, the weight of having never won a championship has been extricated from his shoulders forever. And it seems as though the relief of this pressure has turned Garnett into a clutch player. KG don't feel nothin' no more. He's not as cool about it as Allen and Pierce; you can tell it's new to him, and he seems almost pleased with himself. But the fact remains that Boston has three players on their roster who are ready and willing to take and make big shots, and that their entire team thrives in tense situations.

The Celtics have lost three of their last four, but always seem invulnerable.

You know who these Celtics remind me of: John Thompson's Patrick Ewing-led Georgetown Hoyas. The intense physical play, trash talking, and hellacious defense, along with the reality of their (nearly) all-black squad, evokes comparisons to Hoya Paranoia (with KG simultaneously embodying both Thompson and Ewing) - specifically the '85 squad that HBO immortalized (well, right up until the part about the loss to Villanova). You mean to tell me you don't recognize some of the parallels?

I need to think of a nickname for these Celtics that reflects how terrified I am of them.

In Peyton Manning We Trust

His name belongs with the greats.

Montana. Unitas. Brown. Rice. Butkus.

Manning.

Sounds right.

Don't you see what's happening with Peyton Manning this year, right now? He hasn't just had his most valuable season, he's begun the process of transcending mere first-ballot Hall-of-Fame status and becoming a sacrosanct legend.

Manning was already a lock for Canton before this season, with his gaudy and mind-numbing regular season numbers (we take them for granted, bored by their consistency, but they are the best ever), two MVP's, and Super Bowl trophy.

But his career still lacked that something extra, that thing that separates great players from hallowed ones.

It's one thing to put up a bunch of crazy stats and win a bunch of games and even win a championship when the conditions are relatively amicable. But Michael Jordan's finest hour was his last one, in his final season with the Bulls, aged 35, when he led Chicago to a 62-win season and a championship despite Scottie Pippen missing 38 games during the regular campaign and being practically debilitated by a back injury by the last game of the Finals. Muhammad Ali's greatest athletic triumph came at 32, when he was considered past his prime and even Howard Cosell said he had no chance versus the younger, seemingly indestructible George Foreman, but knocked Big George out, anyway.

Manning came into this season not fully recovered from two offseason surgeries on his left knee and missed all of training camp and the preseason. The Colts struggled out of the gate, limping to a 3-4 start as Peyton threw only 10 touchdowns versus 9 interceptions. Bill Simmons asked if Manning was "sleeping in the same bathtub of plaster Dan Marino used from 1995-1998?" I wrote an article (which never saw the light of day) about the mortality of athletes, and it centered around Manning, now 32 and looking like a shell of his former self.

So what happens? He spends the first half of the season playing himself into form, and now the Colts have won eight straight, clinching a seventh consecutive playoff berth Tuesday night with a victory over the Jaguars in Jacksonville. Manning's line: 29-of-34, 364 yards, three touchdowns. During the winning streak, he has thrown 16 touchdowns and only three picks, in the process establishing himself as the favorite for a record-tying third MVP award and giving his career the substance that turns the greatest of players into mythical beings.

This season the Colts became the first team in NFL history to win 11 or more games in six straight seasons. But this is the least imposing of all of those squadrons. Bob Sanders has been hurt. That would be okay, because Bob Sanders is always hurt, but on top of that Manning's longtime center, Jeff Saturday, has been in and out of the lineup. So has Joseph Addai, and he's averaged only 3.5 yards per carry when he's played, same as his backup, Dominic Rhodes. As a result, the Colts are ranked 31st in the league in rushing. And Marvin Harrison, once the Frick to Manning's Frack, is, definitively - and understandably, at 36 - no longer the man he once was.

True greatness is measured in times of adversity.

And there is no question that watching Manning - not a kid anymore, coming off the first serious injury of his career, with three of his team's top seven players missing a combined 16 games, with his famous partner-in-crime finally acting his age - this year has been a more meaningful experience than watching him at any point in the previous ten (well, other than when he won the Super Bowl).

The Colts are older and more vulnerable now, and so is Manning. He doesn't seem as invincible now as he did just as recently as last year. But in a way, he seems more dangerous than ever. Mortality and the decline of the team around him have wounded him, but wounded animals are extremely dangerous. Which means the Colts are, too, because Manning has never been more indispensable to them and completely embodies their team at this point.

And so now, when you consider all of his accomplishments, when you consider the fact that he has not once missed a professional football game (he started the very first game of his rookie year and has started every game since), when you consider that he was one of those rare no. 1 overall picks that absolutely, positively lived up to every expectation that comes with being that selection (and then some), and when you consider what he has done this season, you must realize that 40 years from now, they'll show grainy old footage of Manning stretching or warming up before a game and it won't need any sound.

This year, Manning has become that kind of player.

Dream Match turns into Mismatch

Wow. That was sad. It felt like a boxing funeral. It was a boxing funeral.

It was an annihlation you had to see to fully comprehend. If you didn't witness with your own two eyes, you would not be able to truly grasp it. Manny Pacquiao crushed Oscar de la Hoya Saturday night in Las Vegas. He destroyed him. He decimated him. He humiliated him. He hit him and he hit him and he hit him again. Then he hit him some more. It got worse over the eight rounds; by the end, Oscar wasn't even swinging back. He was just getting hit. Over and over and over again.

De la Hoya had become the proverbial champion fighting that one fight too many. Other than Pacquiao's trainer, Freddie Roach, no one saw it coming. To the rest of us, Oscar's boxing death unfolded in one night.

It went from shocking to kind of numbing to just plain hard to watch. It wasn't quite Larry Holmes beating up a defenseless Muhammad Ali in 1980, but it was something like it. Of course, I know that fight only through the internet; I wasn't born until 1988, so I truly only know Ali's legend via ESPN Classic, a movie starring Will Smith, and YouTube. It would be impossible for me to watch a grainy, 28 year old tape of him on a computer screen and feel the same pangs of sympathy for Ali that those who lived through his career did as he was absorbing blow after blow.

But I lived through Oscar's run. Roy Jones Jr., Bernard Hopkins, and Floyd Mayweather Jr. are the best boxers of this era, but Oscar was unequivocally the most famous. Plus, he was from (East) LA, my hometown. He's a good man. I was rooting for Oscar last night. Now, I know how those Ali followers felt. Saturday's tilt made me squeamish, and when it became obvious in the seventh and eighth rounds that referee Tony Weeks could step in at any time (and arguably should have, although I respect that he gave the aged warrior the benefit of the doubt), my heart started beating in anticipation. Oscar was getting pummeled, and the stoppage could come at any moment. Dueling emotions were at work here: on the one hand, I didn't want to see De la Hoya go out like that. On the other, he was being badly embarrassed, and even his puncher's chance seemed vanished - so why not just stop it?

Luckily, it was over before Oscar was seriously damaged - he came out of his corner before the start of the ninth, but only to embrace and congratulate Pacquaio, boxing's new big draw. It was a dazzling performance by the Pacman - with Mayweather in retirement (more likely an extended vacation, of course), Manny is - by far - the sport's best pound-for-pound fighter, as well as it's most exciting. But for Oscar, it was over - for this night and probably forever.

De la Hoya, a warrior just as much as a cash cow, was too prideful to utter the words "I quit," but knew he had no chance and offered nothing in the way of protest to his corner's decision to throw in the towel. His body language spoke defeat, and the forced, humbled acceptance of it. Pacquaio was clearly the much better man, obvious to everyone, including Oscar.

But that's sports, right? Pacquaio, 29, is in the prime of his career. Oscar is 35, not even competitive on this night. It goes like that. LaDainian Tomlinson, once as breathtakingly good as any tailback to ever play, is averaging 3.7 yards per carry this season. Through 13 games, he has had two 100-yard outings and is on pace for the poorest rushing totals (yards and touchdowns) of his career. His toe may still be bothering him, but the real problem is that he's 29 now - running backs start going downhill at 28. Adrian Peterson, aged 23, is the guy now.

Allen Iverson, now 33, the NBA's third all-time leader in career scoring average, is producing only 18 a game this year. For this year, the Pistons would be better off with Derrick Rose, a rookie.

Greg Maddux retired this week. Nobody lasts forever.

Though he entered the bout about a pound-and-half lighter than De la Hoya, Oscar is naturally about 25 pounds heavier - he began his pro career at 130 lbs, Pacquiao at 106. But Pacquiao was simply too fast, too quick, too maneuverable. Had Oscar been 29, it would have been more of a fair fight. Maybe he could have caught Pacman, maybe he could have avoided him. Instead, he just got beat up. Badly. Hit. Repeatedly.

Oscar's legacy? Obvious Hall-of-Famer, 10-time world champion in six different weight classes, Olympic gold medalist in Barcelona in 1992. No fighter ever generated more money. Totally classy. Never ducked anybody - he fought Tito, he fought Shane (twice), he fought Hopkins, he fought Floyd, he fought Pacman. But what endures may be that he lost all six of those matches (albeit a couple of them controversially), and the argument can be made that he never beat a truly great fighter at the peak of their powers (Julio Cesar Chavez, whom he beat twice, and Pernell Whitaker, had both probably advanced their apex's).

The final Compubox number's from the night? 224 of 585 total landed for Manny, as opposed to 83 of 402 for Oscar. 195 of 33 power punches met their mark for Pacquiao, only 51 of 164 De la Hoya, 59 percent to 31 percent. But if you didn't see it, you still don't get it.

Oscar did. He was ulitmately non-committal, but also reasonable, about his boxing future in his post-fight interview with Larry Merchant. While he stopped just short of saying "I'm finished," his words spoke of a man that knew he was. He told Roach, his former trainer turned nemesis who in the events leading up to the match said that after watching Oscar's victory over Steve Forbes in May, he realized De la Hoya no longer had his fastball after and predicted exactly the round this one would end, after the fight, "You were right, Freddie. I don't have it anymore."

He doesn't.

As for me? I just wish I could unsee what I saw.

Titans Being Treated Like No Big Deal

Why no love for the Titans of Tennessee?

They have the league's second best head coach. They have the league's best rushing attack. They have league's finest defense.

They have not lost a game.

And yet, no one seems to be seriously considering the increasing possibility that they may go 16-0. Actually, there is a reason for this. Actually, there are two reasons for this:

1) Nobody looks at them as the type of team that could go an entire regular season without losing, and

2) Nobody cares.

The Patriots were, what, 2-0 when people started wondering if they could win them all? 3-0?

But of course, that was different. The Patriots had the championship pedigree, and the previous year had lost the AFC Championship game late in the fourth quarter, after blowing a 21-3 first half lead.

Now they had added Randy Moss, Wes Welker, Donte Stallworth, and Adelius Thomas to the mix, giving them undoubtedly the most loaded team of the salary cap era. This was a team with top-notch professionals on both sides of the ball, Pro Bowl and All-Pro-caliber talent at every level of the defense, and the highest-scoring, most jawdropping offense of all-time. They were impeccably well-coached, led by the legendary Bill Belichick and (as always) the best group of assistants you'll find in any sport, plus they were pissed off, and thus were just crushing people, with no restraint. They may have lost the Super Bowl, but seriously, folks, they were the best NFL team ever.

The Titans, on the other hand, are probably the least talented 10-0 team in the history of the league. Their quarterback is 35, and although he did signal-call the Giants to the Super Bowl in 2000, he's never really been that good. They do not have good receivers. They have a stellar two-man running game - rookie STUD Chris Johnson and touchdown machine Lendale White - but neither one them are really brand-namers.

Their defense features the dominant defensive tackle Albert Haynesworth and the past-his-prime Jevon Kearse, but other than those two and maybe Keith Bulloch, they are a composition of nobodies.

Which means their greatest strength, truth be told, is their coach, Jeff Fisher, who I like to call the game's best "manufacturer." You wouldn't look at last year's Tennessee roster and think 10-6, nor would you look at the 2006 roster and think 8-8, anymore than you would look the current personnel and think 10-0 after Week 11.

But Fisher has come to excel at "manufacturing" wins, at producing enough points each week to earn a victory more often than a loss. On a consistent, Sunday-to-Sunday basis, nobody does more coaching, or gets more out of his teams, than Jeff Fisher.

The Titans are a smart, efficient, whole-greater-than-the-sum-of-their-parts club that palys exceptionally hard and literally maxes out it's potential. But they do not inspire awe, or fear, like the '07 Patriots did, either on paper or on the field.

The bottom line, though, is that they have won every game that they have played this year, which as we all know is all that matters. They're more than half-way to 16-0, a mark that we know from very recent history is attainable.

Which brings us to our second problem:

We've already seen the unbeaten thing before. In fact, we've just seen it.

Maybe it's just me, but the general mood prevailing throughout the NFL atmosphere is that in the wake of last season's Patriots, people (fans and media) aren't as interested in witnessing a team finish 16-0, and will not make a big deal out of it if it happens. It would be extremely impressive and praiseworthy, a supreme accomplishment, and more shocking than when the Patriots did it.

But I doubt if it would get the same attention, or the same reaction. The thing that made New England's quest so intriguing was that the closer they got it felt like history in the making, and there's nothing we enjoy more than the opportunity to witness something take place that has never happened before. And even though the Dolphins ended their regular season 14-0 (and of course they would go on to finish 17-0) in 1972, it took place so long ago that it almost feels like it belongs to an entirely different time-frame; no one under the age of 30 remembers it.

So when the Patriots were chasing it, the entire journey was novel. It no longer is.

Anyways, regardless of all this, the fact remains that all we have seen the Titans do thus far this season is win. Why couldn't they run the table? They absolutely could. We may not believe, or care, but if they do, we will have no choice but to respect.

A Completely Random and Inexplicable Rick Fox Tribute

The term "role player" is used so often in NBA discussions that it has become trite. Being a Lakers fan, I know the phrase very well: if you were watching basketball at the beginning of this century, you couldn't help but know that the Phil Jackson-led Lakers featured two superstars...and a bunch of role players. It was Shaq and Kobe...and a bunch of role players. That was the way the supporting cast was identified. And with respect to Ron Harper, Brian Shaw, and Devean George (and Mike Penberthy, if you're nasty), the three chief representatives for this group were "Big Shot" Robert Horry, Derek Fisher, and Rick Fox.

Horry's clutch shooting exploits are extremely well-documented, and Fisher hit the famous "0.4" shot against the Spurs in the 2004 playoffs, made the emotional, right-out-of-a-movie arrival to the playoff game against the Warriors two years with Utah after tending to his ailing daughter the same day, and is respected for his cool head, experience, and on-court leadership.

But Foxy? He was once married to Vanessa L. Williams, he's a renowned actor (okay, just actor) who had a small role in "He Got Game," he got in a fight during a preseason game with Doug Christie, and he was "pretty" (he once grew his curly hair long and wore it in a pony tail).

But he never got enough recognition as a player, even for one who's job was to merely fulfill a role. This always bothered me, because Foxy was the quintessential role player, and he helped my favorite team win three championships. I love the guy.

Defensively, Foxy was one of the better small forwards in the league, as evidenced by the way he shut down Peja Stojakovic in the 2001 Western Conference Semifinals. Offensively, he was a good outside shooter and passer, someone who Phil Jackson praised in "The Last Season" for his ability to make the entry pass to Shaq, a smart player who never made a boneheaded play and always played within himself. In Game 7 of the 2002 Western Conference Finals against the Kings, he had 13 points, 14 rebounds, and 7 assists. With a potential three-peat hanging in the balance, he stood taller than ever, rising to the occasion along with Diesel, Mamba, Big Shot, and Fish in helping us get back to the Finals.

Foxy won three championships, and every title team has a Rick Fox on it, or someone like him. Two of the last three featured James Posey, defensive ace, clutch three-point shooter, King of All the Little Things. The current player that reminds me most of Foxy is Shane Battier. The Lakers mollywhopped the Rockets at the Staples Center Sunday night, with Battier relegated to the sidelines with an ankle injury that will keep him out of action for at least another month. If these Rockets are to ever win a championship, you can be sure that Battier will have something to do with it, wholeheartedly throwing himself into the team concept, selflessly assuming the Fox role.

Eight years ago, in explaining that the defending champion Lakers were still the team to beat, SLAM Magazine wrote in their NBA preview "I don't care if Shaq and Kobe are surrounded by 10 Rick Fox clones." This was meant as a diss, but to me it reflected Fox's status as the prototype role player, which as far as I am concerned isn't a bad thing.

Aside from an acting gig on the CW network's "The Game" series, Foxy is now serving as an analyst for Lakers home game coverage on Fox Sports Net. He is pretty good. But he was also a good basketball player. I don't know why I felt compelled to tell you all this, but I have for a while now, and I'm glad I did.

This Is Going To Be Fun

Flashback to 2001.

The Lakers were the defending NBA champions, and they were opening up their 2001-02 campaign at home against the Trailblazers. After receiving their championship rings in a pregame ceremony, Los Angeles beat Porland with relative ease, recording a "Ho-hum, we went 15-and-1 in the postseason last year and are just much, much, much better than everyone else" 98-87 win. For that night (and really the first month or so of the season, as they would start 16-1), the Lakers looked and felt unbeatable, a championship seemed forgone, and being a fan of the team never felt more relaxing, peaceful, or fun.

Seven years later, the Lakers once again opened their season against Oregon's finest. They didn't collect any rings this time; that honor went to the Celtics, who began their season with a 90-85 victory over the Cavaliers in Boston. Still, the Lakers looked like the best team in the league. They jumped out to a 19-8 lead and were up by as many as 22 before a closing Blazer flurry cut the margin to 15 at the break. The likable Portland upstarts, everyone's favorite young team, were listless, no doubt, but Los Angeles looked flawless. Their defense was brilliant, a step ahead of Portland in holding them to 31 percent shooting over the first two quarters, and two steps ahead of what we saw from them on that end last year.

They displayed an absolutely endless stream of talent: As Kenny Smith and Charles Barkley pointed out during TNT's halftime show, the Lakers have every position covered - twice. There's Fisher and Farmar, and Radmanovic and Ariza, with Odom, Gasol, and Bynum rotating at the big spots. Then there's Sasha and some guy named Mamba, who made a mockery out of the difficulty basketball at the highest level is supposed to present.

I have never seen anyone play the game of basketball so well, and yet so effortlessly as Kobe Bryant did last night. In the first 24 minutes of action, he seemed to be literally going through the motions, scoring only six points on 3-of-8 shooting. But he had an impact over the flow of the action - eight rebounds, five assists - and he was getting to any spot on the floor that he wanted and making it look easier than ever, while holding Brandon Roy to two points on 0-of-6 from the field.

Then, after a little extra-curricular bump from Joel Pryzbilla early in the third, Kobe, coincidentally or not, bumped his effort level up from 50 percent to maybe about 75, scoring thirteen points in the final nine minutes of the period. He would finish with 23 in all, on 9-of-17, in a 96-76 L.A. win. And I have to say that in all of the years I've been watching him play, I don't know if the man has ever seemed more arrogant for a single game than he did last night: it was just too easy, and he knew it. Thanks to this stacked Lakers roster and his own startling talent, Bryant now has the lightest workload of any superstar, and so on many nights this season the challenge for him may not be the game itself, but how embarrassingly simple he can make it appear to be as he further illuminates his ever-increasing accomplishments in athletic brilliance. I know, I know, I'm in love with the guy; I have a man-crush on him and I want to marry him. Whatever. On some nights, nights like the last one, Kobe Bryant is so good, his command and mastery of the concepts of basketball so thorough, his natural ability so pronounced (and even more impressive now that he's 30, with all that mileage), he deserves such praise.

Anyways, I feel the same way as a Lakers fan that Kobe came off last night: arrogant, cocky, privileged. I don't think I have ever seen a team as talented as these Lakers: their first ten players range from "solid" to "transcendent," with supremely talented bench players that offer contrasting qualities to the starters, everyone bringing something different to the table. Every style appears to be covered, an offense fast and quick-hitting and efficient and Kobe. Hell, even the defense looked great for once.

For at least one night, it was perfect in Lakerdom, and it didn't look like anything could possibly go wrong. Reminded me of 2001.

For Love...For Honor...For Kobe

In Bill Simmons' first ever fantasy basketball preview column, unleashed Friday, he ranks Kobe Bryant only number six on his list of most eligible fantasy baller's (Bryant is generally considered a top three pick) - and goes on to explain why it might not be the greatest idea to build your imaginary team around Mamba this year. He goes through a lot of potential hazards: Kobe's considerable milage; his decrease in athletic explosiveness and the lack of a fallback option to combat it, a la MJ with the latter-day power post game/turnaround fallaway; potential on-court chemistry issues (not enough shots to go around, clogged middle); his pinkie. I'm not even going to get into all of those things - I'll save it for another day, another piece. This post is going to be long enough.

Simmons wrote something six months ago that stuck in my craw a little ever since - now, he's mentioned it again, and for my own sanity, my own piece of mind, I must delve deeper into it, and disprove it to the public.

In recent times I have become almost neutral regarding Kobe Bryant the Man. But that feeling of indifference does not extend to my fervent support and defense of Kobe Bryant the Basketball Player. As a diehard Lakers fan, I feel the same way about 24 that Simmons feels about Larry Bird or Michael Wilbon feels about Michael Jordan. So when the Sports Guy attacked Kobe's reputation for utter individual dominance last June by typing that he struggled against bigger defenders, it actually hurt my feelings. Simmons said that these types of defensive players served as Kobe's "kryptonite" flaw - nonsense, as far as I was concerned. Maybe he had his troubles against historically great team defenses, but to state that any type of single defender could have an advantage over him in a strictly player-to-player match-up...I was affected by that.

Still, I just let it simmer - until 'ol Simmy referenced it again in the fantasy hoops column - and well, I've got to get it off my chest. What can I say? It bothers me.

-

In the initial column, posted between games five and six of last year's NBA Finals, Simmons wrote:

"Boy, Kobe sure seems to have trouble scoring on these Shane Battier/Paul Pierce types, doesn't he? If someone's a little bigger than him, stays between him and the basket and has the reach to contest his jumper, and if that person is flanked by smart defenders who remain aware of what Kobe is doing at all times, it sure seems Kobe has trouble getting the shots he likes. Not to belabor the point because it's a moot discussion at this point, but MJ didn't have a "kryptonite" flaw. He just didn't. Of everyone from the '90s, John Starks probably defended him the best ... and it's not like Starks was shutting him down or anything. He just made MJ work a little harder for the points he was getting anyway. The point is, Jordan did whatever he wanted during a much more physical era, and when he faced great defensive teams -- like the '89 and '90 Pistons or the '93 Knicks -- nobody ever shackled him or knocked him into a scoring funk. Kobe? He looks a little lost offensively against the Celtics. It's true. Same for the 2004 Finals against Tayshaun Prince, another lanky defensive player with a good reach. Just remember to mention this on his NBA tombstone some day."

The Battier reference likely stemmed from an ABC televised game in mid-March between the Lakers and Rockets in Houston, when Battier held Bryant to 24 points on 11-of-33 shooting in a 104-92 Rockets win. And obviously, Pierce did an excellent job on Bryant at times in the championship series last June.

Then, Friday, Simmons wrote of the Lakers that "their best lineup remains Fisher and Vujacic at the guards, Kobe at the 3, and Gasol with Odom or Bynum up front ... which allows opponents to defend Kobe with bigger players and opens the door for more spotty offensive efforts from Kobe like what we witnessed in the 2008 Finals."

And I could no longer stop myself from addressing this maddening assertion.

When I did my research for my statistical analysis, I tried to study game logs (basketball-reference.com - the best there is, the best there was, and the best there ever will be) in which Bryant played against teams with great perimeter defenders, or so-called "stoppers," who 1) are listed at at least 6-7 (an inch taller than Kobe is listed at) and 2) I can specifically remember being assigned to guard him on a regular basis.

These are Kobe's career numbers (regular season only) versus the five players whom I felt met my qualifications:

v. Battier: 25 gms, 249-585 FGM-A, 23.5 FGAPG, 42.5 FG%, 29.2 PPG, 3 40-pt gms, 3 50-pt gms

v. Prince: 9 gms, 69-158 FGM-A, 17.6 FGAPG, 43.7 FG%, 25.4 PPG, 1 40-pt gm

v. Andrei Kirilenko: 20 gms, 203-423 FGM-A, 21.2 FGAPG, 48.0 FG%, 33.5 PPG, 3 40-pt gms, 1 50-pt gm

v. Josh Howard: 17 gms, 176-379 FGM-A, 22.3 FGAPG, 46.2 FG%, 33.7 PPG, 3 40-pt gms, 1 50-pt gm, 1 60-pt gm

v. Ron Artest (although Artest is listed at 6-7, he and Kobe appear to be the same height - you know, Kobe used to be listed at 6-7, when he had his afro - whatever, this isn't an exact science, I included him anyway): 20 gms, 162-350 FGM-A, 17.5 FGAPG, 46.3 FG%, 27.8 PPG, 1 40-pt gm

Total: 91 gms, 859-1895 FGM-A, 20.8 FGAPG, 45.3 FG%, 29.3 PPG, 11 40-pt gms, 5 50-pt gms, 1 60-pt gm

Career numbers: 866 gms, 7456-16450 FGM-A, 19.0 FGAPG, 45.3 FG%, 25.0 PPG, 92 40-pt gms, 23 50-pt gms, 4 60-pt gms

What do these numbers show us?

Well, for one, obviously, Battier does a better job on Kobe than any of our variables (I'm a scientist now). After offering little resistance to Kobe his first four seasons in the league (Bryant averaged 25.5 points on 45.7% shooting against Battier in their fourteen matchups from 2002-2005 - including the game in Shane's rookie year where Kobe scored 56 points in three quarters and then sat out the fourth), Battier has become an extremely legitimate Mamba foil: since the 2006 campaign, Battier has held Bryant to 39.9% shooting in eleven contests - 33.1 points on 28.6 shots per game. Only once in those eight games has Bryant shot above 50%.

Then again, Bryant has had games of 53, 53, and 45 against Battier since Battier joined Houston in 2006-07 - albeit on a combined 114 shots and a pedestrian 43.0% shooting.

Overall, it would seem that Battier has taken the mantle from Bruce Bowen as the John Starks to Kobe's MJ - to paraphrase Simmons, he guards him better than anyone else, but it's not like he's shutting him down or anything; he's just making him work harder for the points he's getting regardless.

Against Prince, Bryant doesn't take many shots. On top of that one 40-points game, he has had two 39-point efforts. Other than that, there's nothing to it. Nothing sticks out.

What seems more accurate than Simmons' claim is the notion that Bryant simply ran into two all-time great defenses in those two championship series, and more importantly, two units that predicated all of their potential success on their ability to stop him and him only, and game planned accordingly. And I don't think he was prepared either time. He had thoroughly dominated the postseason last year up until the series with Boston, so even though the Celtics defense had thwarted him in their two regular season matchups, I'm sure he wasn't expecting anything resembling that kind of struggle.

He had also been the dominant player in the 2004 playoffs (although not as brilliant as last year), and he certainly wasn't ready for that Pistons ambush (not to mention the fact that he made things harder on himself by playing so selfishly and effectively playing right into their hands).

Both times, it appeared as though he had walked blindly into a blizzard snowstorm, without the necessary survival skills.

And I know we've been conditioned to think that MJ was literally infallible, but if anybody really thinks MJ just walked all over those great Pistons and Knicks defenses like he did everyone else - well, you need to hit up basketball-reference.com, check out some box scores.

Anyways, as far as Simmons' idea that bigger defenders are Kobe's Achilles heel - I would conclude that that appears to be a matter of feeling and seeming, rather than actual being.

T-Mac's Sadly Unfolding Story Arc

This morning on NBA TV it scrolled across the ticker, the message that Houston Rockets swingman Tracy McGrady may miss the team's season opener on October 29 versus the Grizzlies due to "health issues." On Houston's media day last month, Mac announced that he hadn't fully healed from off-season surgery on his left knee, and would need an operation after the upcoming campaign to repair an arthritic left shoulder. Yes, you read that correctly: Tracy McGrady already has an injury so serious it will need a procedure at the conclusion of the season...and the season hasn't even started yet. That sounds insane, but it isn't really surprising: With Chris Webber now making his living under the employment of Ted Turner, Mac is the NBA's new resident MCS: Most Cursed Superstar.

McGrady has to be the only player in NBA history that peaked at the age of 23. I never thought he was as good as Kobe Bryant (not as good a defender, not as clutch), but he was damn close: The 6-foot-8, long-limbed frame, combined with the amalgamation of scoring, ballhandling, and playmaking capabilities, made Tracy the offensive fusion of an evolutionary George Gervin and Scottie Pippen. He averaged a 27, 8, and 5 at 21 (his first and breakout year with the Magic), a 26, 8, and 5 at 22, and an absurd 32, 7, and 6 at the aforementioned 23. In those latter two years, he was named All-NBA first team. By consensus, he was one of the two best all-around players in the game, and so his potential, though rarely spoken of, seemed obviously limitless.

But as Stephen A. might say...

Howeva...

(And if I were the Sports Guy, this would be the point that I made a reference to the inevitable "downward spiral" segment teaser of any VH1 "Behind the Music" episode.)

It all started going suddenly downhill from there. The Magic won a mere 21 games in 2004, as Mac missed 15 contests and shot the lowest percentage of his career - this was also the year that back spasms began establishing themselves as his personal Achilles heel. He would be traded to Houston that summer, and while he had a terrific year overall in his first year with the Rockets, he shot only 43 percent and the Rockets lost in the first round to the Mavericks.

Meanwhile, McGrady's once prescribed co-savior of the Magic, the conveniently redemptive Grant Hill, represented Orlando as a starter in the All-Star Game after playing in only 47 of a possible 328 games in the previous four seasons, and No. 1 pick Dwight Howard drew comparisons to a young Moses Malone. The Rockets missed the playoffs entirely the following year, and then, in 2007, Tracy was the victim of another first-round series exit, this time tasting defeat in a heartbreaking Game 7 loss to the Jazz.

Last year, the Rockets won 22 consecutive games during the regular season (second most all-time), but lost Yao for the year in February, and once again, went one-and-done in the postseason, falling to Utah for the second straight year.

Which means that, at 29, and entering his 12th season, Tracy Mcrady has a career playoff series mark of 0-7, and there is no doubt that it is a bearing on the man's soul. McGrady is partially to blame for his embarrassing record: While the Magic were certainly overmatched in terms of personnel against Detroit in the 2003 postseason, he had his team up 3-1 and couldn't muster one more victory (naturally, this was the year the NBA changed it's first-round format from best-of-five to best-of-seven.) And he had a Game 7 at home in '07 against Utah but couldn't pull it out (the 29 points and 13 assists were heroic, but the key is to win the game).

But most of Tracy McGrady's misfortune seems to stem from ill-fate. How many times would he and a healthy Hill have made the Finals together in Orlando? He was forced to go at it alone. Why did a troublesome back sabotage his 20's and put a ceiling on his prime? We'll never know how good he could have been. Why did Yao have to suffer a stress fracture last year, on what could have been Houston's best team since Hakeem's '95 repeat squad? All those wins in a row meant nothing against the Jazz, not with Mac outmanned and reliving his soloist days with the Magic.

And why is it that, now that the Rockets have acquired Ron Artest and assured that McGrady will be a part of the most talented team of his life...he's already injured? The punt never, ever takes a T-Mac bounce.

You take a look at this Houston roster and think that they have a chance to be earth-shatteringly good. And earth-shatteringly good should at least get you past the first round. But if you're a McGrady fan, how realistically optimistic can you be? Things never seem to go in his favor.

Regardless, we root for him. We like him. And thus, may God bless his knee, back, and shoulder, may Yao remain on the court for the duration (or at least be healthy come spring), and may Ron Ron not go Ron Ron. For Tracy's sake.

P.S. And may they not beat my Lakers, under any circumstances.

On Paper, Lakers Look Like Sure Thing

Lamar Odom came off the bench for the Lakers in their preseason tilt with the Kings on Sunday, and seemed fine with it for a change. Previously, Odom had expressed disgust at Phil Jackson's declaration that he will make Lamar the team's sixth man if he struggles with his transition to small forward. Odom's discontent had the potentiality of sabotaging what could be a dream Lakers season.

Los Angeles has the highest ceiling of any NBA club this year. The Rockets match the Lakers in terms of sheer talent (the trio of Yao Ming, Tracy McGrady, and Ron Artest, along with their dedicated working class teammates, looks like bloody murder on paper), but aren't as much of a sure thing. The Lakers went to the Finals last year without Andrew Bynum, and other than whether or not Kobe's pinky will fall off, the only concern (at least to me) was how Lamar (or, to be more accurate, Lamar's attitude) would fit into the season. The Bynum-Gasol co-existence issue will work itself out in time, and even if their union is a little awkward, a healthy Kobe makes the matter moot. Bynum's presence shores up the shotblocking and rebounding problem, and I'm sure Jackson will enforce a newfound defensive intensity. And they will definitely be playing with a chip on their shoulder, after being humiliated in the Finals last year.

Now, Lamar vows not to be the large piece of ice that sinks this magnificent passenger liner. Which means that if these Lakers stay healthy, it's very likely that, at some point next June, they will have a parade that ends on 1111 S. Figueroa Street, and there will be nothing anyone can do to prevent it.

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In the post-Jordan era of the NBA (1999-present - forget the Wizards years), no other organization has assembled a roster with such a transcendent superstar, surrounded by such a killer supporting cast. The Lakers have the league's best pair of big men; a (mercurial) walking double-double aptly nicknamed The Goods; and the game's deepest collection of role players. That, by itself, is a pretty damn good foundation. So to throw Kobe Bryant into the mix is really just piling on. His subpar performance in the Finals against Boston is our most recent memory of him (the Olympics don't really count), so it's only natural that he seems a little more human right now. But we should not remove from our minds the level of play we witnessed him ascend to before that championship series. For roughly a month-and-a-half, or about the time it took him to lead the Lakers to a 12-3 record through the torrid Western Conference playoff, Kobe Bryant played basketball as well as it can possibly be played. Let us not forget that truth. In 2008, he won an MVP and a gold medal, but could manage only a mere trip to the Finals; he falls just shy of Jordan. But in today's game, his peers fall short of him. And if Jordan is basketball's only true immortal (think about it, he is), then Kobe is the next nearest guy.

By the time you get to the Zen Master, you realize that this current Lakers team is not merely built to win, like other contenders; Mitch Kupchak has put together the type of personnel that should not lose and, if there were such a thing, cannot lose. We saw this with the Jerry West-built three-peat teams of the beginning of the century; it seemed obvious that a team with Bryant and Shaquille O'Neal, headed by Jackson, would be the squad that won the championship. Then again, when Karl Malone and Gary Payton were added to that nucleus following the ringless 2002-03 campaign, the title felt inevitable, too. And we all know how that ended.

Needless to say, nothing is guaranteed.

But a team with Kobe Bryant, in his prime, with three supporting stars, led by the best coach in league history?

You have to admit, the Lakers feel like more of a cinch than anybody right now.

An Open Love Letter to Candace Parker

Dear Candace,

I just wanted to congratulate you on winning WNBA Rookie of the Year and MVP this season. You're the new Wes Unseld. As a player, you remind me of a young Kevin Garnett, only more aggressive offensively. Love your game. And you're only going to get better. That's the crazy thing.

Now, enough about all that.

Candace, I think I'm in love with you. You're the prettiest female athlete who's ever lived. That isn't an opinion, it's a simple fact of life. It's not subjective, it's objective. We hold this truth to be self-evident, that you are the most gorgeous woman to ever play sports. Your skin is flawless, as are your features. Your mouth is perfect. Your nose is perfect. Your eyes are perfect. I even like the way you blink. On top of all that, you have baby hair - a huge turn on for me. Hell, you even make that shoulder harness (which Kobe made famous during the 2003-04 season) you wear look sexy. You're a "Mike Tyson in 1988"-level knockout.

I tried to stop myself from writing this letter, out of respect for your man, Shelden Williams, one of my all-time favorite college players. Guy was a beast at Duke, and I haven't given up on him as a pro yet. But at the end of the day, you were just too damn fine. I had to write you this letter. I want you to know how I feel about you, and I want the world to know how I feel about you, too.

Sorry, Shelden.

Yours truly,
Antwonomous

As the NFL Turns: Life Without Brady

Is it just me, or does the NFL kind of suck without Tom Brady?

The Golden Boy went down eight minutes into the regular season, and three weeks of football have since passed. Storylines are emerging, as they always do. The ageless wonder that is Brett Favre has been let loose by the Mangenius and partied like it was 1995 against the Cardinals on Sunday, tossing a career-high six touchdowns. T.O. may be on the verge of turning on Tony Romo. The Bills are 4-0 and so are the Titans, led by the great Jeff Fisher. But none of these subplots seem as important as they usually would. Tom Brady is the best player on the league's flagship team, and in the opinion of this writer, his absence is undermining the relevance of the league at large. The games are still hard-fought and spirited and exciting, but overall, this early portion of the '08 season hasn't been as fun. And I think it will remain that way for the duration of the year. To me, the NFL isn't as interesting as it usually is. You can call it the Brady Effect.

It has been a looooooooong time since a team athlete as indispensable to his team and his league as Tom Brady went down for such an extended period of time due to injury. In my sports fandom career (admittedly relatively brief), I can't think of anything that compares. Imagine Kobe breaking his leg in the Lakers' season opener a little over a month from now (actually, don't imagine that - forget I even told you to). Last year Brady threw 50 touchdowns versus only eight interceptions, on a team that came 35 seconds and one miracle play involving Eli "Houdini" Manning and David Tyree's helmet from going a perfect nineteen-and-oh. Already a lock for future "best quarterback ever" roundtable's after winning three Super Bowls while throwing to only slightly above-average receivers, Thomas was handed Randy Moss, Wes Welker, and Donte Stallworth in '07 and proceeded to level the discussion. Joe Montana, the one-time king, won one more Super Bowl, but he never threw for more than 31 touchdowns in a single season, despite being blessed with Jerry Rice. Brady has four more rings than Dan Marino and three more than Peyton Manning. He is unflappable and technically flawless, and with him under center, the Patriots are the team to beat.

They are also the league's most hated squadron. If the Cowboys are "America's Team," the Pats are the exact opposite. Everyone outside of Boston despises the Patriots, for much the same reason everyone outside of Durham, North Carolina hates the Bluedevils: They win at a startling pace, and nobody wants to see any team have a monopoly on winning. They're also kind of rogue: Their coach is a jerk, they've been called classless, and last year they got caught cheating (although that entire controversy was probably overrated) and then ran up the score against helpless opponents when people questioned the veracity of their dynasty. Through almost all of this, Brady has worn a satisfied smirk as he knocked up actresses and bagged supermodels and dissected defenses. He's the NFL's version of Derek Jeter pumping his fist and incarnating the New York playboy life as jealous fans rail against the Yankees for having an infinite amount of money to spend on acquiring the best players. So when he goes down, everyone rejoices.

Not me.

I don't understand how anyone, from any region of the country, could be happy about not getting to see Tom Brady play football in his prime. Maybe it's because I see things from a different perspective, a nonpartisan position. I live in Los Angeles and have no real diehard rooting interest. I follow the Saints because of Reggie Bush, but while I root for him to do well I could honestly care less if they win or lose. I thought I loved the Patriots, until I realized on Sunday that I didn't care that they got blown out at home against the Dolphins with Matt Cassell at the helm. It turns out that I only like the Pats when they are dominant and unstoppable. Which means that I only like the Patriots when Brady is standing tall and nonchalant in the pocket, lofting long touchdowns to Moss in the most breathtakingly perfect QB-to-receiver combination ever, and carving teams up with stoic, machine-like efficiency in crunch-time. And when that's happening, everything else that's going on around the league takes on more meaning. But when the league is deprived of that, everything else seems a little cheap. The NFL revolves around the Patriots; when they're just an ordinary team, the NFL seems almost like just an ordinary league.

The Belly of the Upset

It always hits hard.

The No. 1 ranked USC Trojans lost on the road to the Oregon State Beavers by a score of 27-21 Thursday night, two weeks after dismantling Ohio State so thoroughly that it seemed almost unfathomable that they could actually be beaten in a college football game. Pundits said that this was Pete Carroll's best team and that they would run the table to Miami. Deadspin mocked the Beavers' chances at victory and on PTI the only question was whether or not the Trojans would top 50 points (Tony said no, Le Batard said yes). The game seemed like such a mere formality that I forgot it was on until it suddenly hit me and I flicked to ESPN about mid-way through the second quarter. I guess you can imagine my surprise when I realized that THE TROJANS WERE DOWN 14-0!

OSU scored again right before the half TO GO UP 21-0! The Trojans fought back, of course, and still had a chance to win the game when they lined up for an onside kick with a little over a minute to play. The onside kick was not recovered by Southern Cal, and my whole night was officially ruined. But while I'm definitely disappointed that my city's amateur-professional football team lost, I can't find it in myself to really criticize them. How do you explain the nature of the upset in college fooball?

Four of USC's last five losses have come to teams that they, in theory, should never have lost to: last night; two years ago against this same Oregon State program in the same setting and against UCLA at the Rose Bowl (to lose their spot in the BCS Championship Game); and last year at home to Stanford. Since they typically annihilate the really good teams that they play, these losses to such lesser teams seem inexplicable and inexcusable. But the reasons for these defeats are impalpable. How much of it has to do with the idea that the Trojans overlooked an inferior opponent, and were both underprepared and lacking the proper fire? How much of it had to do with the thought that the USC players didn't know how to respond to having the underdog take the fight right at them, the proverbial schoolyard bully stunned at having the little guy walk up one day and slug him in the face?

And how much of it had to do with the fact that, on any given day or night, anybody can beat anybody, in any sport? That last truth, mixed with USC's undeniable success over the last seven years, makes it impossible for me to rip them.

But it still makes me feel down when they lose. Poor Carroll, a great football coach and even better man, becomes so humble and despondent after every (rare) defeat. Witnessing Carroll talk to reporters after last night's game was like watching a sad little four-year-old give an interview after he just spilled his milk and cookies. Furthermore, the USC campus is about 20 minutes from my house. It's about 20 minutes away from everybody in L.A.'s house. It's smack dab in the inner-city, in the "hood," as they say. Unless you attend/used to attend UCLA, how can you live in Los Angeles and not root for SC? The Bruins suck and we don't have an NFL team; the Trojans are our football heroes.

Oh, and just one more thing: Is it really "just a game?" I don't just mean college football, but team sports in general. Technically speaking, it is, but as fans we tend to watch these contests as if their outcomes will determine life and death. This is especially true in NCAA gridiron action, where each and every game is crucial. If it really were "just a game," I would have had a much happier ending to my Thursday night.

A Tale of Two Teams: USC Thrashes Ohio State

The result was not surprising. Before the game, I actually thought Los Angeles' beloved USC Trojans Football Team might be in trouble, although for reasons more psychological than physical. Bill Simmons often writes in his columns about sports teams playing the world-renowned "Nobody believed in us" card, regardless of whether anyone really did believe in them or not, and using it as a motivational tool to prove the world wrong. Well, nobody believed in Ohio State's prospects of hanging with the Trojans Saturday night at the Coliseum, and rightfully so: There was no reasonable explanation, at least pertaining to football, as to why the Buckeyes' would be able to stay with USC. Big 10 teams struggle versus teams with speed (i.e. teams from the SEC and Pac-10 - don't ask me why teams from those two conferences are able to recruit speed, and teams from the Big 10 are not; the answer escapes me), and despite their dominance otherwise, OSU is not an exception. They lost the last two BCS title games to LSU and Florida, by a combined score of 79 to 38. On top of that, they were missing their best offensive player, preseason Heisman hopeful Beanie Wells.

But they were still a top-5 team, and a red flag should always be raised whenever a relatively worthy team becomes too much of an underdog in a big game. Not necessarily in terms of a point spread, but in terms of the number of people who are picking you to win the game. Ohio State is a very good football team, and I figured they might take the lack of respect as a slight, and summon up the proper emotional savagery and pride to negate enough of the gap in talent and athleticism to make the game much more competitive than people expected. And maybe, just maybe, pull off the upset no one saw coming.

Instead, they just their asses kicked. I couldn't have been further off. Final Score: Trojans 35, Buckeyes 3.

USC was simply too fast and wily with possession of the ball and too quick without it for Ohio State, and ironically it was the Trojans who played with the ferocity of the disrespected underdog. The Best Defense in College Football allowed only 207 total yards, forced three turnovers, and garnered five sacks. Countless times Buckeye plays were completely destroyed by a gang of swarming thugs (and I mean "thugs" in the most complimentary way possible) who converged on the football like a pride of hungry lions trying to bring down an elephant in an African safari. On the gridiron, the ballcarrier is prey to the Trojan defense, something that it must consume to ensure it's survival. It's inspiring to watch.

Against teams with top-flight athletes, however, the Buckeyes are not. Before long, Saturday night's game succumbed to its predictability, and by the end, it was embarrassing. And so for the third time in their last four losses, Ohio State has been completely outclassed on a national stage. What are we to make of them? Obviously, Jim Tressel is a very good football coach, and he runs a fine football program. He won a national title in 2002 and his team dominates the storied Big 10 conference. But are they a true powerhouse? It's one thing to come up short against the Louisiana State's and Southern California's of the world; it's another thing altogether to be incapable of making the game competitive. Chris Berman and Tom Jackson like to say "One time is an accident, twice is a trend, three times is evidence." Is this most recent loss enough evidence to suggest that Tressel's program is O-VER-RAT-ED? I think so.

USC, however, is beyond reproach in that regard. They play in either the best or second best conference in America, there are no creampuffs on their schedule, and even in the rare event that they lose, they barely lose. Since 2002, also known as Year II of the Pete Carroll Era, the Trojans are 70-8; they have not lost any of those games by more than seven points (and in the entire Carroll era, they have lost only one game by more than a touchdown). Only once in those eight defeats did they lose to a team that was clearly better than them (last year on the road against Oregon). During this span they have produced three Heisman Trophy winners and won three Rose Bowls. They won consecutive national championships in 2003 and 2004, and in 2005 they came just 19 seconds away from becoming the first team in college football history to three-peat. They are a powerhouse, a machine, a dynasty. And this is the best team they've had in three years.

The defense may be as good as it's been under Carroll, but the key is the offense. The last two seasons, the offense was efficient but never spectacular. Now, it is dynamic again. John David Booty was a very good quarterback; Mark Sanchez looks like a superstar. He may not be the pure passer Matt Leinart was, but he is damned good throwing from the pocket, and very mobile. Tailbacks Joe McKnight (who had 105 yards on only twelve carries against the Buckeyes and is so much like Reggie Bush it's disturbing), Stafon Johnson (a future 1,000 yard NFL rusher), and C.J. Gable (singled out as the most complete back of the bunch by Kirk Herbstreit during the telecast) give USC it's best running attack since Bush and Lendale White ran between the tackles at the Coliseum. The receivers aren't great, but they're better than they were last year, thanks in large part to the addition of Arkansas transfer Damian Williams, who caught two touchdowns on Saturday. Helluva football team.

And in praising these Trojans, I think the most damning thing I can say about the Buckeyes is that they were not a true barometer for USC to measure themselves by. They were a walkover, everyone predicted they would be, and it didn't galvanize them at all. Sure, they didn't have Beanie, but Beanie wouldn't have made that much of a difference. USC is phenomenal; Ohio State is beginning to look increasingly like an illusion, in more ways than one.

Is the Patriots dynasty over?

Nothing has been confirmed yet, Patriots quarterback Tom Brady scheduled to undergo an MRI Monday to determine the severity of the left knee injury he suffered during New England's season opener against the Chiefs in Foxborough on Sunday, but there is a rumor going around that the Golden Boy has a torn ACL and will miss the remainder of the season.

Brady was hit in the left knee by Kansas City safety Bernard Pollard on a pass to Randy Moss in the first quarter, and it appears that New England's dreams of another shot at the Super Bowl have been shredded along with the ligament in their quarterback's knee.

Brady's injury is devastating to the Patriots; he is one of the best signal-callers to ever play the game, and along with Peyton Manning, the most indispensable player to his team in the NFL today.

He is the Patriots, basically.

But more than just dealing with what this particular injury means to this year's Patriots, I'm starting to seriously wonder what a defeat that happened two years meant (emblematically) to the New England dynasty as a whole.

The Patriots lost the 2006 AFC Championship game to the Colts, but it's starting to look like more than just a loss that happened in a big game.

Two weeks ago I wrote an article about the Pats. While the piece was positive ("Pats will be back in '08"), the whole time I had a much more negative thought in my head. I just needed more evidence before I would write about it.

Remember Buster Olney's book, "The Last Night of the Yankees Dynasty"? In it, Olney chronicles Game 7 of the 2001 World Series, or, as he calls it, the last night of the Yankees dynasty. I've always agreed with Olney's sentiment, albeit for totally different reasons (this isn't a book review, so if you want to know Olney's reasons, you need to go buy the book - or read a book review).

The D'backs got to Mariano Rivera that night, at a time when Rivera would be, at least theoretically, his most frightening; to face Rivera in the bottom of the ninth inning, in the seventh game of the World Series, is like going to a hypnotist appointment and seeing Freddy Kruger sitting there waiting for you.

Well, they beat him, anyway, and while it wasn't the first time Rivera had blown a save in the postseason, it was the first time since 1997, when the Joe Torre Yanks had won only one World Series title and before Rivera had become "Sandman."

As it turns out, the Yankees haven't come that close to winning a World Series since. The loss was symbolic. Of what? Nothing concrete. Rivera didn't fall off the face of the earth after that, obviously; instead, he has gone on to further cement himself as the greatest relief pitcher in the history of baseball.

But the point is that something unusual happened that night, and ever since then, nothing has really gone the Yankees' way.

Well, in 2006, the Pats lost the AFC Championship Game to a player and a team that they had previously tormented in the playoffs, Peyton Manning and the Colts, after blowing a 21-3 lead. This was unusual. This was not supposed to happen.

Then, last year, after starting the season 18-0, standing on the doorstep of ultimate immortality, they lost again, this time to the Giants in the Super Bowl.

And now, after the falling of this most recent domino, I feel that the "Olney Theory" must now be considered in the case of these Patriots.

Because sometimes in sports, you lose a game and it's more than just a loss. It can never be proven that the Yankees dynasty ended that night, or that the Patriots dynasty ended the night that they lost that game to the Colts (if that proves to be true).

But if you give weight to this kind of symbolism, you have to give it contemplation. And I am giving it serious thought. I think there is a very good chance that the Patriots dynasty has been over for two years, and most people just don't realize it yet. Brady will have surgery and then rehab, and when he comes back, he will still be Tom Brady, or something like it. He threw 50 touchdowns last year, versus only 8 interceptions, on a team that went 16-0 during the regular season. Think about that for a second. He has three Super Bowl rings, and two Super Bowl MVP's. The man is an athletic God, so even if when he returns he's not quite as good as he was before, he'll still be better than everybody else.

And once Brady does return, the Patriots will likely compete at a very high level, like they always do.

But be the team that lifts the Lombardi? Something tells me those days are already done.

The 25 Best Players in the NBA Today

Well, the NBA season's been over for about two-and-a-half months, but we're still about a month away from the start of training camp for '08-09 - let's make a list! Just seemed like the right thing to do. Obviously, these things are never easy, and they're far from definitive - I realized even before I was done that I had probably already made some mistakes, that there were going to be some rankings I myself would regret, some guys I left off that I would wish I had put on...and accepted it. I wasn't going to torture myself. Overall, though, I think it's a very solid list - you (or I, tomorrow or a week from now or a month from now) may look at it and think, "This guy should be ahead of that guy," or "That guy should be ahead of this guy," or "Where is this guy?," or whatever. But I believe I have everybody in the very close proximity of where they belong; I'm not way off with any player. Anyway, enjoy. And obviously, argue amongst yourselves and talk about how stupid I am.

P.S. I had already started the rough draft for my list before SLAMonline kicked off their Top 50 with Kevin Durant. So whatever mean names you call me, please don't call me a jocker. You can call me anything except a jocker (and late for dinner).

P.S.S If this list feels only half-done, I'm sorry. But I couldn't find the inspiration to make a Top 50 all by myself. I guess I'm not made of the same stuff Stan McNeal is.

1. Kobe Bryant, G, Lakers - Even after a disappointing showing in the Finals, Mamba still stands as the most complete basketball player in the world. Flawless fundamentals, historic scoring ability, best all-around perimeter defender since Scottie F. Pippen. He's the best. Although...

2. LeBron James, F, Cavaliers - ...this guy is gaining fast, and it's only a matter of time before he takes the no. 1 spot. His progress feels inevitable, but it's still fun to watch. There's never been another like LeBron: at 6-9 and 260 pounds (from his own mouth) of chiseled bulk, LeBron is like a brawnier, faster, more agile version of the '96 Shawn Kemp - only if Kemp was a perimeter player who ran the offense from the top and seamlessly balanced scoring and passing. LeBron is able to simultaneously assume the roles of scorer and facilitator: he's constantly looking for his teammates and keeping them involved, while still putting up 30 a game. He's also a rapidly improving defender who plays with a nightly (quiet) competitiveness and intensity equaled by few in the game. And no one - NO ONE - has ever done more with such a mediocre team. His unselfish style of play lifts the performances of his very below-average teammates, and has allowed Cleveland to compete neck-and-neck with the far more talented powerhouses of the Eastern Conference the past three seasons (they went to Game 7 against a 64-win Detroit team in 2006, beat them in 2007 to make the Finals, and then went to another Game 7 against 66-win eventual champion Boston this season).

By simply adding good-but-not-great point guard Mo Williams this offseason, the Cavs should now be considered the favorites to win the East again next year - and as a Lakers fan, I want no part of LeBron James in a seven-game series. You could even say I rue the day.

He turns 24 on the last day of the year.

3. Chris Paul, G, Hornets - One of the things that amazes me so much about the great young players in the NBA is just how good they are at such young ages. They're not just great players, they are superstars, amongst the best in the game with very little experience. Take Paul, for example. He was 22 for the entire '07-08 regular season. Yet he was so in control of the game at all times, so thoroughly dominant - other than throw Deron Williams and that boulder-sized chip that sits on his shoulder (from being unfairly cast in Paul's shadow) on him, what can you do to slow down Chris Paul? Nothing, right? He does whatever he wants to do. He's not perfect, but...you get the point.

4. Tim Duncan, F/C, Spurs - For no athlete is immune to Father Time, even the great Tim Duncan. The Big Fundamental showed signs of definite slippage in the playoffs last year. Against the Hornets in the second round, Duncan had significant trouble with the long arms and athleticism of Tyson Chandler(a good but not great defender who probably would've been no trouble to Duncan four years ago). Timmy can't get the same seperation on his faceup drives anymore - I seemed to notice him shooting more and more of those awkward, one-legged fallaways against Chandler in that series. Sure, Duncan will still have his way with big men who can't defend (like Pau Gasol in the following series against the Lakers) or guys who don't have the physical tools to make him take difficult shots, but guys like Chandler will likely give him trouble from here on out.

With that being said, of course, Duncan is still an exceptionally smart player, a great defender and passer with stellar court awareness on both ends of the floor, not to mention the man with the deepest array of low-post moves in the game. So he's still a top-5 player. For now.

5. Kevin Garnett, F, Celtics - Kevin won his first championship last year, and while as a Los Angelino I was very disappointed that my team lost, I still felt happy for him. By all accounts, Kevin Garnett is a good man - loyal, hardworking, and as real as they come. We need more athletes like him.

On the court, Garnett has never been a truly dominant scorer - he simply lacks the proper mindset and will to take over games. But he is still skilled at putting the ball in the basket - he has range out to twenty feet and has a deadly turnaround jump shot along the baseline that is one of the game's signature moves. His rebounding slipped last year - from 13 boards per 40 minutes in '06-07 to about 11 last year - but he is still very strong in that area. He is also the very best defensive player in the league, and one of the best passing big men ever. At 32 he's no longer the freakish athlete he once was, but his smarts and experience more than make up for it.

6. Dwight Howard, C, Magic - The best rebounder in the league topped 20 points a game for the first time last year. He is also an emerging defensive force - he averaged more than two blocks last year, and with his ridiculous leaping ability there is no shot he cannot get to. Howard is an amazingly athletic big man with a body made for basketball - he's like a more powerful David Robinson. And as good as he is, at 22, he will only get better.

7. Dirk Nowitzki, F, Mavericks - Dirk played more like Dirk after the new year, and was the only Maverick who showed up in Dallas' first round series loss to the Hornets. He's back. Perhaps the most unique 7-0 in league history (think about it), Dirk is the best shooting big man ever. He doesn't rebound enough and is only an average (at best) defender, but he has become a pretty decent passer in addition to his special scoring ability. His hair is long again, and I look forward to a career year from the 30-year old Nowitzki next year.

8. Deron Williams, G, Jazz - Surely some of you will argue that No. 8 is too high for D-Will - not surprisingly, as Williams is the most underrated player in the league. Big and burly with an improving outside shot (39.5 percent from three last year) and splendid passing skills, Williams is the pure point guards pure point guard: he thinks pass first, but he also knows when to take over the game. 19 points and 11 assists per on 51 percent shooting last year. CP3 is better overall, but not by very much.

9. Steve Nash, G, Suns - He turns 35 next year, but last we checked, he was still Steve Nash: 17 points and 11 assists on 50, 47, and 91 percent last year.

10. Amare Stoudemire, F/C, Suns - Sure, he's one dimensional - he doesn't rebound enough, doesn't play defense, doesn't pass. But when your one dimension (scoring) is so good that it makes you the most unstoppable big man in the game, well...you're one of the 10 best players in the league.

11. Dwyane Wade, G, Heat - You don't know how hard it was for me to leave him out of the top 10. But he's missed 31 games in each of the last two seasons. Fair or not, I put him here because of how good he is when he's healthy (top-3). And consider his performance in Beijing a warning to the NBA.

12. Carmelo Anthony, F, Nuggets - The second best pure scorer in the league behind Bean - just a natural at putting the ball in the hoop. Inside and outside, facing up and back-to-the-basket, quick and strong - once he starts hitting threes consistently, I don't know what's going to happen. Also averaged a career 7.4 boards a game last year, and he's made strides as a passer. The second most underrated player in the league. He's 24.

13. Paul Pierce, G/F, Celtics - You never know how good a player is until you get to watch him night in, night out in a seven-game series. And after watching Pierce slice up the the Lakers in the Finals, let me tell ya, I had no idea Paul Pierce was that good. Great defender, very good ballhandler and passer - did you know Paul Pierce had that kind of floor game - great scorer. I love Pierce's game offensively - unlike McGrady and Kobe, who are totally fluid and skilled and make it look like basketball just comes natural to them, Pierce is kind of rough around the edges. He kinda stumbles around sometimes, he doesn't have the easiest handle, he's a good but not great athlete, etc. But it's the untidiness of his game, the fact that it doesn't look pretty or effortless, that makes it so beautiful to me.

Did that last paragraph sound simpish?

14. Tracy McGrady, G/F, Rockets - Now 29, he's not as good as he was at 23 (when he peaked as a player) - chronic back problems have relegated him to mostly jump shots (hence the low shooting percentages) and caused a dip in his rebounding numbers. But he's a smart player, an exceptional passer, and when he's feeling it he's as unstoppable as ever. Also a great teammate.

15. Chris Bosh, F/C, Raptors - I almost put him in the top 10 because of his comedic exploits, before coming to my senses. Bosh is big, skilled, and athletic, but he has to start blocking more shots, and statistically, he hasn't gotten any better in three years.

16. Gilbert Arenas, G, Wizards - Top 10 when healthy, I guess - but even when healthy, he's madly inconsistent. Also needs to move to the two, like A.I. did under Larry Brown years back.

17. Yao Ming, C, Rockets - I would never bet on him staying healthy for a full season. He's too big. But when healthy, he's the best big man ever over 7-2.

18. Carlos Boozer, F, Jazz - A walking, breathing 20 and 10 - not much else, but still, a walking, breathing, 20 and 10.

19. Allen Iverson, G, Nuggets - The NBA's biggest anamoly: 26 points, 7 assists, 46 percent from the field, 2 steals a game last year on a 50-win team - at 32. To put that in perspective, Isiah Thomas retired at 32. Then again, doesn't he seem almost irrelevant now.

20. Baron Davis, G, Clippers - Reached his full potential under Nellie. Now to see what he'll do back in a more traditional offense.

21. Manu Ginobili, G, Spurs - When you consider how good he really is, how much of an impact he has on a game, and how important he has been to such a successful team - I'll just come on out and say it: Emanuel David Ginobili is the best sixth man EVER.

Well, other than Havlicek.

22. Tony Parker, G, Spurs - He's not a good defensive player and he 's not really a pure point, but he can get wherever he wants to get on the court at any time, he's the perfect pick-and-roll point guard (one of the main strengths of the team over the years when you consider that Duncan is the perfect pick-and-roll big man), and he's been the starting point guard on three championship teams in the last six years. He runs his damn team, and he runs it well.

23. Pau Gasol, F/C, Lakers - As frustrating as he can be at times (like, the Finals for example), he saved the Lakers season, and other than Duncan, no 7-0 brings more to the table offensively. Big, long, skilled, and smart - if only he didn't let people push him around and could hold on to the ball. Keep your position and hold on to the damn ball, Pau!

24. Ron Artest, F, Rockets - One of the best end-to-end players in the game. Just a beast. Only problem is that he tends to think he's The Man, when really, he's a world-class supporting player. Don't try to carry the offense in Houston, Ron. Just play your part; your team has a chance to be downright scary.

25. Caron Butler, F, Wizards - The poor man's Pierce.

Pats will be back in '08

When the New England Patriots lost to the New York Giants in Super Bowl XLII this past February, I thought it was one of the most crushing defeats in sports history.

One of those losses so devestating, the suffering team never completely recovers from it. They're never quite the same. Some defeats are just too devastating.

When you win the first 18 games of the NFL season, you deserve to win the 19th. You just do. The '08 Patriots were the best team any of us had seen - their level of dominance was unprecedented and felt unreal. Watching them completely toy with and obliterate the Bills in Week 11, I implored my grandmother to watch the history that seemed to be taking place right in front of our very eyes. The 2008 New England Patriots were the greatest team in the history of professional sports - that night, as they were in the process of crushing Buffalo 56-10 in New York, I was beginning to become convinced of this.

But because they lost The Big One, they will not be remembered that way. Unfortunately. I couldn't even fathom the level of grief and disappointment that those invested must have felt; as I wrote at the time, I felt sorry for the players, I felt sorry for the coaches, I felt sorry for management, I felt sorry for the fans.

I suppose that every team that doesn't win the Super Bowl ultimately considers their season a failure.

But because of what they had accomplished in the five months that preceded that fateful night in Glendale, Arizona, New England's defeat seemed like an even bigger collapse.

I was prepared for anything; there was a part of me that was waiting to hear the breaking news that Bill Belichick had decided to retire. As Tom Jackson said right after the game, the fallout that was to come from the Patriots' organization was unimaginable.

But then the winter finished, and spring passed, and now summer is in its dying days. And I feel a little differently. First, on PTI, Mike Wilbon dismissed the notion that the 2008 Patriots were a failure as foolish. I took heed. Then, in his TMQ AFC Preview, Greg Easterbrook pointed out that the '08 Pats (because of their history making regular season, statistical dominance, and how darned close they came to perfection) will be remembered more readily than the Giants team that defeated them in the Super Bowl.

I took heed again.

And now what I have come to realize is that while they did not hoist the Lombardi, there is still something rather prestigious about last year's Patriots - what they accomplished was still extremely noteworthy, to the point that they deserve to reside in their own, seperate castle of nobility.

They definitely weren't a failure, and are probably closer to being a success - even in losing the Super Bowl. Never again will we see a team come that close to doing what will never be done. Maybe they shouldn't necessarily be proud of the season they had, but they need not be depressed, either.

So, where do they stand now?

They lost cornerback Asante Samuel to the Eagles in free agency this offseason, and are looking shaky in the defensive backfield (even after the addition of veteran safety John Lynch) - but not as shaky as they did in 2004, when they won the whole damn thing.

In the AFC playoffs last year, Jacksonville and San Diego exposed a way to take Randy Moss out of the game, and deep threat Donte Stallworth departed to the Browns - no matter. Little Wes Welker is still around, and besides, two years ago Tom Brady nearly won the conference with Jabbar Gaffney and Reche Caldwell as his top two receivers. Brady isn't just a quarterback, he's a magician.

And tailback Laurence Maroney is ready to bust out, if necessary.

So the pieces are in places for another 14-win type season and deep playoff run.

Furthermore, I've tried to get a feel from afar for the overall mood of the this offseason. They seem fine. There seems to be no lingering effects. No depression or feelings of nothingness. Now, I'm not convinced of anything just yet - in the back of my mind, I still think there's a chance that, once the games start for real, the Pats will no longer have the fighting spirit to match their talent. Obviously, we'll have to wait until the season starts to find out for sure.

But if I were a betting man, I would bet that my initial beliefs about that loss and their aftereffects will prove to be misguided. Does than mean I'm picking them to go the whole way? Personally, I like the Colts this year - younger legs on defense mean they'll be fresher come January. Think it'll be the best team they've had over there.

The point, though, is that I have entered into a new age of enlightenment: the Patriots have no reason not to bounce back completely this season, and if they do end up making up for last February this February, I'll no longer be surprised.

"Redeem Team" passes with flying colors

If the US had managed to blow away Spain in late, late Saturday night/early, early Sunday morning's Olympic men's basketball final (which I fully anticipated, after the rout that was their first meeting), I was going to use this space to prolaim that, yes, indeed, we now had a second Team worthy of being called Dream.

Unfortunately, Spain put up one hell of a fight, redemption for the American's in danger until the final minute. Because of the astronomical improvement the rest of the world has made in basketball since the Holy Trinity (MJ, Magic, and Larry) and their Superfriends dominated the world 16 years ago, you can argue that the 2008 version of our national team is the most impressive we've had. The world had caught up to us in basketball, and we beat the world by an average of 27.9 points, which is the 1992 equivalent of about 55 points a game.

But since they didn't dominate every team they faced, I'll hold off on calling them Dream Team II. With many regrets. Just know that they came close. Damn close.

But it's okay. I've still got a story.

Few times in my life have I felt as American as I did in the wee hours of this morning. Watching Team USA as they attempted to hold off a resilient, gutsy Spanish team to win gold, I found myself rooting for them like I did for Floyd Mayweather Jr. when he fought Ricky Hatton in Vegas last December, when Hatton's British fanatics booed during the singing of our national anthem.

And when they finally won, I was as estactic as the players and coaches. All I needed was someone to hug. It was one thing to hear Kobe and LeBron talk about how important it was for them represent their country and reclaim gold; it was another to see their joyous celebration once they actually did.

It resembled that of a college team that had just won the national championship. You could even say they were like a bunch of 12-year olds that had just won the Little League World Series. Initially, I was shocked by their child-like giddiness; afterall, didn't they expect to win?

Of course.

But Jerry Colangelo asked these men for a three year commitment. And when you work with other people in giving such time and effort to a goal so important, so much bigger than yourself, the reward becomes that much greater, the camraderie that much stronger. Those smiles you saw last were sincere; those hugs were genuine. And they went to show that all this talk about team and country was not just hot air, but truth speaking.

Now, surely Dwyane Wade was motivated to use the world stage to show that he was back to being Dwyane Wade. And I'm sure that he and the guys who lost in 2004 in Athens and/or 2006 at the World Championships wanted to avenge those losses not only for their country, but for themselves.

But I don't think there's any question that, from Coach K on down, these men were united behind a single goal, above all else: to restore America's dominance in international basketball. To take our game back. When some of the players ran over to the broadcast booth after the game to shake hands with Mike Breen and Doug Collins, they did it because those are American announcers, and so dadgummit, they're apart of this redemption, too. And when they played our national anthem during the medal presentation, it really did seem meaningful to them.

And since they took it so seriously, so did I.

It all seemed so familial, and I felt like part of the family. It seemed so much like a brotherhood, and I felt like one of the brothers. It was all so patriotic, and I was glad to be an American.

Dream Team? Maybe not. A team this country can be proud of? Absolutely.

Criticisms of Kobe unnecessary

I promised I wasn't going to write anything else about Kobe Bryant for the remainder of the summer (lest I be required to change the name of this site to blackmamba24.com). But the anti-Kobe contingency on the blogosphere has forced my hand.

Even in Beijing, China, where he is currently serving as one of the leaders on our national basketball team in its quest to reclaim gold, Bryant is drawing unfair criticism from his compatriots back home.

He scored 18 points and made half of his shots in Team USA's 92-69 win over Greece early Thursday morning, proving that he can in fact still play this game of basketball. But if you had read the blogs and their message boards after our first two tourney games versus China and Angola, and didn't know any better, you'd have thought he had suddenly turned into Willie Mays falling down in the outfield in the 1973 World Series.

We've reached the point with Kobe where he has two sub-par outings in August on an Olympic All-Star team, in games that his team won by a total of 52 points, and people are tearing his game apart. And not only are they tearing his game apart, they're dropping him in rank. And not only are they dropping him in rank, but they are absolutely basking in the concocted oportunity to do so.

The Kobe haters are out in full effect, no doubt, and even for them this is bad. It's embarrassing. I've seen Kobe get criticized for shooting too much and shooting too little; I've seen Kobe get criticized for scoring 81 points, a month after getting criticized for scoring 62 points in three quarters and then sitting out the fourth rather than trying to score potentially 81 points.

But I don't think any of those criticisms were as stupid as the one's he's been receiving this week.

In Team USA's series of exhibition games leading up to the real deal, Kobe was second on the team in scoring, but more importantly, since he joined the team Kobe has embraced the role of defensive stopper. Just as he did to Brazil's Leandro Barbosa last summer in the FIBA tournament, Kobe put the clamps on Lithuania's Sarunas Jasikevicius, taking him out of the game from the start and allowing his team to jump out to a 24-5 lead.

No, Jasikevicius in not a big NBA star. He's not a little NBA star. He's a middling NBA player.

But he lit up Team USA for 28 points and seven three-pointers in an opening round victory over America four years ago in Athens, and the point is that Kobe's defense at the point of attack, his ability to basically elimate the opposing team's best perimeter player, is where the U.S.'s key to dominance starts. Success in international basketball is predicated on strong guard play, and it wasn't too long ago that the U.S. made Jasikevicius look like Steve Nash and Carlos Arroyo look like Isiah Thomas. I don't care how many times people say he got beat off the dribble against Angola, those days are now over.

Kobe shot 10-27 from the field in the Americans' first two official games in Beijing, including 1-15 from deep but not that deep. That's terrible. I don't dispute that. But since when did individual statistics matter when your team is winning by an average of 26 points? On a team of stars? Has Kobe really been surpassed by LeBron AND Wade after only two games? Do two games, even at the putrid percentages he's shot, constitute a true slump, even for someone like Kobe? Isn't it more likely that they were just an abberation? Haven't his selflessness, effort on defense, and unwavering intensity been the most important added ingredient to the team? Have we even come close to losing a game since he first stepped foot on the court for us last summer? Doesn't he deserve a pass for a couple of off nights? Even from the famed and relentless Kobe Haters?

Now, surely some of you will read this and dismiss it with some statement resembling, " Here we go again, another Kobe Lover who can't stand for his boyfriend to be criticized." But the truth is that none of these men representing our country deserve to be bashed for playing two poor games in blowout wins, especially not the MVP of the team. Of course, it's unlikely any of them would be. A world away, his attackers desperately seek for a way to vilify him and bask in even his most irrelevant of misfires.

'Tis the life of Kobe, I guess.

The Manny Experience

The Dodgers' trading of superstar catcher Mike Piazza ten years ago remains the most jarring moment of my relatively brief sports fanhood.

It happened exactly a week before my 10th birthday, May 15, 1998, and I remember sitting in the hallway at home, listening to the radio, and being a little bit depressed for the first time in my life. My dad and I had tickets to an upcoming game, and I was not in the least bit excited about the prospect of cheering on Gary Sheffield and Charles Johnson instead of Michael Joseph Piazza. We went anyway, but that was one of the last baseball games I attended. I haven't been to Chavez Ravine in years, and not only did the trade cause me to put a hex on the team that I still haven't lifted and never will, but it soured me on the game in general. The Dodgers had traded my hero, and all these years later, it still doesn't make sense.

Piazza was 29 and in his absolute prime, coming off a career year in '97 (.362/40/124/.431/.638). And he was a flat out star. Piazza was perhaps the most beloved player in Dodgers history, an icon, not only because he was the best hitting backstop of all-time, but because of his Montana-like mullet and hazel eyes. Piazza was a sex symbol, the swooning obsession of teenaged girls, not very much unlike Derek Jeter in New York. Probably the most popular athlete in the city.

And so what does FOX ownership do? They trade him, rather than giving him the cash they would spend the approaching offseason on a 33 year-old Kevin Brown.

Go figure.

But I say all that to say this: Piazza stood as the Dodgers last defining superstar until they acquired Manny Ramirez last week.

Gagne came awfully close, but his reign at the top was too short. Reminiscent of Fernandomania. And as great a ballplayer as Gary Sheffield was (wildy underappreciated in his time here), he was lacking that extra something that those most notable of players possess - he didn't have the it factor. But Manny? The man is simply an entertainer. "Manny Being Manny" and everything it entrails has taken on a life of it's own in the sports media, and the city of Los Angeles has welcomed it with open arms.

It's Manny Fever in Dodgertown right now, the organization to soon begin selling caps with dreadlocks attached to them. The dreads are part of the Manny package, part of his star, and judging from the reception he's gotten thus far, this town is certainly appreciative of it. I think the Dodgers faithful were desperate for a dose of true starpower, and well aware that it could be gone in only a couple of months, are basking in it and enjoying it while it last. Hey, what city wouldn't enjoy the honeymoon period with a character like Manny Ramirez?

But more than his personality, I'm enjoying the ManRam Experience because of his bat. Good Lord can this guy hit. Even after going 0-for-5 Friday night in San Francisco, Manny is still hitting .464 in seven games with his new club, with four homers and nine runs batted in. It's taken him literally no time to adjust to a brand new league after playing 15 1/2 seasons in another, and he's been so good that I might have to start monitoring Dodgers games just so I can watch his at-bats. With no disrespect meant to Albert Pujols, Manny is the smartest hitter in the game with Barry Bonds currently unemployed.

Juice aside, Bonds' plate discipline in his latter years was inspiring. He wouldn't flinch at balls an inch outside the strike zone, but if the next pinch was an inch closer to the plate, it was almost guaranteed to end up in McCovey Cove. Like Bonds, Manny seems to treat hitting like an approach to a science, and it is something to behold.

And like everybody else, I'm soaking it up. All of it. He's brought a much needed buzz back to the team, stealing back some of the spotlight from the Angels, who have dominated Southland baseball in the 21st century. The Dodgers haven't felt this relevant in years. Manny's arrival won't make me start rooting for the Dodgers again, but it has piqued my interest in them.

Make or break season for Bush in '08

A couple of weeks ago, one of the Fox Sports Net channels was showing USC legend Reggie Bush's most jawdropping collegiate performance: Nov 19, 2005, versus Fresno State, at the Coliseum, the eleventh game ofReggie's Heisman Trophy-winning junior year. 294 yards rushing on 23 carries with 2 touchdowns. 3 cathes for 68 yards. 135 yards on 7 kickoff returns and another 16 on a punt return. 513 all-purpose yards in a hard fought 50-42 win.

Probably the most indelible highlight from that masterpiece came towards the end of the third quarter, with the Trojans ahead 34-28, when Bush took the handoff from Matt Leinart, dashed through an opening and sprinted to the left side sideline. An inch from steeping out of bounds and with a defender reaching at him, Reggie puts on the breaks for a split second - a split second - puts the ball behind his back and switches field for a long touchdown. We've all seen that play a million times.

On an earlier lengthy run, in which he came within about half a yard from scoring another touchdown, his right long sleeve was ripped as he dove for the goal line, and when he got up he feigned pulling back his jersey to show the figurative 'S' on his chest while pounding on his heart like Kobe Bean. Indeed, he was Superman.

So you can understand why, for the life of me, I can't understand how this guy is only a mediocre NFL running back. I just wanna know why. As I read once on the WWW, Reggie was the best player to ever come out of college, meaning that If you were to take every player who ever entered the draft and retroactively give them a rating - based on how good they were at the time they entered the league - Bush would get the highest score.

Reggie Bush averaged 8.7 yards a carry his junior year at SC, and 9.7 yards a touch. The Human First Down. This was a world class athlete with the vision of LT and the moves of Barry. The evolutionary Gale Sayers. He couldn't miss.

And remember his first preseason game against the Titans, the 42-yard cutback that had everybody gaga? Perhaps no rookie had ever come into the league with more hype. And never has there been a rookie more deserving of such universal laud and adulation. He was that good.

So what happened next? Well, for the most part, he stunk out the joint in the first half of his rookie season. You didn't hear much about it because A) the Saints were winning, and B) nobody had the balls to criticize the great Reggie Bush in plain sight. Instead, everybody talked about how valuable he was as a "decoy."

Was the attention Bush's gamebreaking potential demanded having a large impact on the Saints' success? Absolutely. Was he catching a lot of passes? Sure (even though he had a low YPC). But he was running the ball like suey and he wasn't making any big plays. Through the first eight games of his career, Reggie Bush had zero touchdowns.

He played much better in the second half of the season, tying a franchise record with four touchdowns against the Niners and gaining a career-high 125 yards on the ground against the Cowboys in Dallas. By the end of the season he had set a rookie record for receptions by a running back (88). And 1,523 total yards and 9 touchdowns ain't bad, especially considering his role (although we were definitely expecting more). The Saints went 10-6, won the division, and came within one game of the Super Bowl. And we all remember the 88-yard touchdown in the NFC title game that year, the longest play in that game's history, when he tauntingly pointed at Brian Urlacher before doing his trademark sommersault into the endzone (he was later fined).

So Reggie had his moments, got better as the season went along, and seemed poise for a breakout season in 2007.

Didn't happen.

Deuce McAllister tore his ACL in the third game of the reason, forcing Reggie to take on more carries, but he couldn't carry the load as his team's feature back (just as everyone predicted when he was drafted - of course, I thought everyone was crazy). He failed to reach 100 yards once in 12 games before missing the last 4 with a knee injury. In the process, some people started calling him overrated. The Texans are no longer considered idiots for passing on him in favor of Mario Williams, who recorded 14 sacks. The entire season was a setback.

So, why has Reggie struggled thus far? For one, while Bush may still be the most gifted athlete in the league, pretty much everyone in the NFL is a special athlete, so that advantage has become almost obsolete. During his rookie year, not only was he the primary focus of the defense from a strategic standpoint, but everybody on the other side of the ball wanted a piece of him. Veteran defensive players were determined to make him earn the publicity and endorsements he was receiving even before he had played a down in their league. Then last year, when McAlister went down, he suddenly began receiving even more defensive attention while assuming more carries, which he wasn't ready for and may never be ready for. Also, I think he needs to slow down - great running backs have great patience, and oftentimes Reggie seems to be going too fast for his own good, as if he's trying to go for the homerun on every attempt.

Also, it has been said that Bush rededicated himself to the game this offseason, and that presents another concern: Just how much does Reggie Bush want to be great? Similar to his buddy Leinart, sometimes it seems that Bush is satisfied with just being Bush, with being a celebrity, with having the time of his life - rather than becoming the best running back he can become. His girlfriend is Playboy model, reality TV star, and dimepiece (sorry, Reg) Kim Kardashian, who once made a sextape that I watch every morning as I'm eating my Cheerios, and they are often photogged out and about, on the scene, two young millionares enjoying the fruits of their fame.

Yet for the guys who are really serious about their craft, the offseason is just an extension of the season, the six months you spend getting better, going from good player to Pro Bowler and Pro Bowler to future Hall-of-Famer. Is Reggie Bush driven to become a legend, to capitalize on his amazing physical gifts, to fulfill the limitless and astounding potential that he showed coming out of Southern Cal? Or is he intent to just be Reggie Bush, former Heisman trophy winner and one of the most famous college athletes ever? These are legitimate questions.

The Saints started camp this week, and Reggie is talking a good game. I hope it's not all talk. I live about 20 minutes away from the USC campus, and you can't understate how important that program is out here, or how much those Bush-Leinart teams transcended sports and became something much more. They were like rock stars, especially Leinart and Bush. Understand: Reggie Bush is an absolute god out here, and Los Angelino's will never forget what he did when he was with the Trojans. Personally, I follow Saints football now, specifically because of him. I want for him to do well.

So here's hoping that Reggie has a breakout year in '08, that the experts were right when they said he would need a couple years to develop, that he's the rare running back that had to grow into and learn his position after being a high draft-pick.

I'm rooting for him.

With "Generation Kill," Simon and Burns appear to have done it again

For David Simon and Ed Burns, it's all about sticking to formula.

Unflinching realism + symbolism-heavy writing/dialogue + humor to make the horror more bearable = classic TV. It's earlier yet in "Generation Kill," a seven-part miniseries about the beginning stages of the Iraqi war, but if the first two episodes are any indication, it appears that Simon and Burns have created a third masterpiece for HBO. Their 2000 miniseries "The Corner" is in the Hall-of-Fame, and "The Wire" is considered by many to be the Michael Jordan of television dramas. "Generation Kill" is different in scope than those two, but after two weeks it has just as much poential.

Simon has spoken in interviews about using humor to make the dread in his shows sufferable. Think Omar's lighthearted one-liners or William Moreland's Bunkisms. They were often funny in a show that was otherwise anything but. Well, this show is twice as funny, and it has to be. "Kill" is twice as depressing as "The Wire."

I've never been to war, but from what I hear it's pretty terrible. I hear about the large casualty figures on the news, see pictures of torn-apart bodies on the Internet. I watched James Gandolfini interview disfigured war heroes on "Alive Day Memories," and I watched Tom Hanks and his squadron search for Matt Damon in "Saving Private Ryan." The latter is considered an unfailingly realistic look at the atrocities of World War II. It takes us inside the action and allows us to experience it vicariously, through the actors. "Kill" does the same thing.

On the one hand, these marines are fighting for our country, even though at this point it's too early to say definitely how they feel about that as a group. Whatever. We are at war, allegedly to protect us from terror, and these American men are putting their lives on the line. They are our heroes, period.

But I wouldn't say that I can necessarily relate to them. None of them are eager to die, but all of them are comfortable with combat. Some of them are very professional and realize that they are in Iraq to do a job, and treat is as such; it's not fun and it's not personal. These are the soldiers that command respect.

Yet there are probably even more that are legitimately excited by the chance to kill without consequence and think the site of a dead body is totally awesome, brah. You have to question the character and morals of some of these men. Not all of them are likable.

Or perhaps these seemingly heartless marines have simply psyched themselves out, to prepare themselves for the hellish atmosphere, and the task at hand. Kill. If you are going to go to war, you had better throw sentiment to the wolves and assume the disposition of coldhearted killer. That's the less cynical interpretation (and the one I want to believe).

But like with "The Wire," Simon isn't telling you what to think. The story is there. It's laid out for you. Now do with it what you will.

Naturally, I root for the Americans to survive their missions without any casualties. Several characters carry the show and already we have become familiar with them. As they drive their Humvee through a hail of Iraqi gunfire, I find myself partially covering my eyes, hoping that none of them are injured or killed, and that they take out the bad guys trying to end them.

But when I see a dead Iraqi girl, her lifeless body on the side of the road with both of her legs blown off, it becomes harder to take sides. One of my favorite movies is "Unforgiven," directed by and starring Clint Eastwood, who attempts to sensitize and deconstruct the myth of violence that he helped create by showing us the toll that killing takes on a man's soul. "It's helluva thing, killin' a man," he explains to his young partner The Kid, who's visibly shaken after committing his first kill. "You take away all he's got, and all he's ever gonna have."

Other than at the sight of the little girl, the Marines on "Kill" seem unfazed by at best, enthralled by at worst, the inherent atrocitites of war. But enemy or no enemy, American or Iraqi, at the end of the day, aren't these all just dead people?

"Generation Kill" is a screen adaptation of a book of the same name written by journalist Evan Wright (portrayed by Lee Tergesen on the show), who experienced the first phase of the Iraq war up close and personal, took notes, and then wrote a hardover about it. So unless you've read the book (and I haven't), it's hard to gauge just how much Simon and Burns are trying to make a point about the state of the war and the country, and how much they're just trying to tell Wright's story. No matter. With "Generation Kill," they've created yet another powerful drama, and you should be watching.

If Kobe's playing, I'll be watching

In a shocking turn of events, I'll be watching next month's Olympic basketball tournament with a vested interest.

Pre-2007, I had only followed Team USA-related proceedings with sporadic, exceedingly half-hearted curiousity. In other words, I didn't really care. Never, ever sat down and watched a full game. Bor-ing. Understand, I love basketball more than just about anything. Since the sixth grade it's what people have associated me with. It's my identity. And yet I had never been moved to give more than a smidgen of attention to international basketball.

But starting last year, all that changed.

What piqued my interest?

I'll give you a few hints.

Most famous four letter name in sports that isn't an acronym. Nickamed after the world's deadliest serpent. It would stand to reason that we'd all be sick and tired of talking about him, but we never get sick and tired of talking about him.

Yeah, that's right.

Another Kobe article.

Trust, I almost couldn't bring myself to write another story about Kobe. It's the middle of July, for Christ's sake. But once again, he's relevant. He's always relevant.

I'll be watching the Olympics this summer because of Bean. Mambazo. Mr. Bink. The most fascinating figure in sports. This Hardwood Paroxysm piece from earlier this year captured the Kobe phenomenon. I live in Los Angeles, I'm a diehard Lakers fan, and I watch every Lakers game, so I couldn't be any more familiar with his game. It never gets old watching him play because he's so good and so exciting, but that's not why I'll be watching either. He's not Mike Tyson, who's you have to watch because there's always a chance he's going to do something completely crazy. Nor is he a T.O. or Ocho Cinco, WWE-level performers who make their games more entertaining by injecting doses of fun and amusement. And there's not a chance he's going to score 81 points in one game (at least I don't think there is).

But just by being who he is, he's made the Summer Games must-see TV.

Everybody knows Kobe. Everybody has an opinion about Kobe. The very sight of him elicits strong emotion, and his very presence on the court in Beijing will boost ratings. In the past, the thought of waking up at 4:00 in the morning to watch my country's basketball team struggle to win against ever-improving competition while playing a brand of basketball neither I nor them were familiar with didn't appeal to me.

But by simply slipping on his red, white, and blue no. 10 jersey, Kobe will make everything seem more important. He's famous like that.

As a basketball writer, the Kobe article is the easiest one to write. It's easy for me to fill up this space when I write about Kobe. There never seems to be a dull moment with him, and with any Kobe story, there are so many different angles from which to approach that I could probably go on forever, or until I just decided to stop. Is any athlete involved in more situations and controversies, on a consistent basis, than Kobe? Is there anybody who's more complex? Is there any athlete that has more star power? Tiger, maybe. He's the sole reason people watch golf. But he comes nowhere close to riling up the public like Kobe does. Our fascination with Tiger comes from how unbelievably great he is. He's the real new MJ. With Kobe, our obsession goes much deeper, because wheter we want to admit it or not, we can all identify with him. He's human and we can all see it. Like Tupac, there's a little bit of Kobe in all of us.

The Dream Team has a chance to take back our gold. Kobe will be playing. Where do I sign up?

Wimbledon final breeds two champions

"No one will forget what you did here today."
- Boxing trainer Eddie Hutch to his objecting fighter, Joe Frazier, before throwing in the towel in the Thrilla in Manilla

As Roger Federer was fighting back from down two sets to force a fifth against Rafael Nadal in Sunday's epic Wimbledon final, a quote from Joey Chestnut was becoming increasingly poignant to me.

On July 4th Chestnut successfully defended his hot-dog eating championship by defeating the legendary Kobayashi in a sudden death dog-off.

Afterwards, Chestnut described the deciding factor in his victory.

"He wanted it," Chestnut said, "but I needed it."

Now, obviously the hot-dog eating contest is an inane competition and trust me, I regret even mentioning it in a serious sports article. But it's a great quote. Just pretend it was Tiger Woods who said it after a winning defense of the US Open, instead of some guy who gulped down 59 hot-dogs in 10 minutes and then another five in overtime.

Federer, who before winning his first six matches of the tournament without dropping a set was being written off as past his prime by some, lost the first two sets to the younger, more athletic Nadal and could've just draped his duffle bag full of tennis balls over his shoulder and gone home. Afterall, he already had five Wimbledon titles (in a row, no less).

Didn't happen.

And as he willed himself to a deciding fifth set by winning the previous two on tiebreakers, Federer reminded me of that quote. Maybe Nadal wanted to win, but like Jordan and Ali in the final stages of their dominance, Federer needed to win. That's what seperates the greatest champions from all of the rest, what drives them to sustain their excellence, to hold onto it for as long as they possibly can: They have to win. It's a way of life. And that's why Roger was going to win Sunday.

Of course, he didn't win.

Nadal did.

So it's pretty much moot. I guess in the end, Nadal really was the one that needed it. With the victory he is now the No. 1 ranked player in the world, and he will not look back. (Monday Morning Update: I was unknowingly given some wrong information, and then unknowlingly passed that wrong information along to you. To be accurate, Nadal is not the new No. 1 ranked player - he's still No. 2, with Federer maintaining the No. 1 spot. Doesn't change or mean much - Nadal is the best player now, regardless of what the computers say. We all know this. But obviously, that doesn't change the fact that I screwed up. My bad. Don't hold it against me.) Beating Federer on grass was his final hurdle. The game of tennis will belong to him for the next four years. Congratulations, Rafael, on your first Wimbledon title. 7/6/2008, the beginning of the Nadal Rule.

But from where I stand the day still belongs to Federer. His heroic performance today reminded me of a Bill Simmons column from seven years ago, a running diary of Game 7 of the 2001 World Series between the three-time defending champion Yankees and upstart Diamondbacks in Arizona. You all remember the ending to that one: Luis Gonzalez blooping a single over second base off of Mariano Rivera in the bottom of the ninth and, we realize years later, effectively ending the Yankees dynasty. Simmons is the most famous Boston fan on the Web, but even he had to give it up to the Yankees for the heart and resiliency they showed in defending their crown. He wrote:

"You find out everything you need to know about a champion during the season when they finally get dethroned: True champions go down kicking and screaming, and you practically have to drive the stake into their collective heart, Dracula-style, to put them away. Nobody will forget how the Yankees played over these past few weeks, or the way the crowd at Yankee Stadium lifted them to those three wins that sandwiched Halloween night. They were a true champion. We'll forget about the D-backs some day, but we won't forget these Yankees. And that's coming from a Red Sox fan."

That excerpt right there captures what Federer accomplished Sunday, even in defeat. I don't think he'll ever be the world's best tennis player again after losing today. He didn't just lose a Grand Slam tournament, he lost his crown. Wimbledon's 2008 final wasn't just another especially prestigious championship match, it was a passing of the torch and a coronation. But 25 years from now, when I think back on it, I'll remember the way Federer lost more than I will the way Nadal won. I'll remember the way he went down kicking and screaming, the way Nadal had to drive a stake into his heart to put him away. Roger Federer was a true champion, and I'm never gonna forget what he did in England today.

The Clips are coming to take the town! Whooooooo, I'm so scared

By swiping Baron Davis off of the free agent market Tuesday night, the Clippers officially announced their presence in the Wild West and put pressure on the Lakers for the title of Best Team In Los Angeles.

(*sound of tires screeching*)

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute. What?

By swiping Baron Davis off of the free agent market Tuesday night, the Clippers officially announced their presence in the Wild West and put pressure on the Lakers for the title of Best Team In Los Angeles?

Really?

That's what everybody says.

Take it from me, an unabashed Lakers fan: I'm not worried about the Clippers. At all.

Yeah, the Clippers have B. Diddy now and are likely to retain the services of Elton Brand as well (although it's not a lock). That gives them a presumptive starting lineup of Baron, Cuttino Mobley, Al Thornton, EB, and Chris Kaman, which is probably good for 48-wins and a playoff berth.

But enough to shake up the West and make Kobe nervous?

Maybe we all need to calm down for a second here.

At press time, Tim Thomas, Quentin Ross, and Brevin Knight are the only proven NBA players the Clippers would have coming off of the pine. I don't even think I have to say anything. Also, how willing will El Beardo be to feed the two big men down low? What about sophomore forward Thornton, a natural scorer? Will he get enough touches to progress in his second year?

I think Baron left the ideal situation for him in Golden State. Point guards are supposed to think pass-first, pass-second, and then shoot, and shoot-first lead guards like Davis and Stephon Marbury traditionally have trouble harnessing their more dominant selfish traits and meshing their talents with that of the team. In Oakland, this was not a problem for Baron. Everybody got to shoot as much as they wanted. The Warriors are the most liberated team in basketball, Nellie giving his team of scorers full offensive freedom, just like he did in Dallas. It's glorified Rucker Park. The beauty of it is the lack of structure. Baron thrived in that environment. He got to do whatever he wanted.

But now he's once again going to be asked to run a traditional, half-court offense. He's a great player and will make the Clippers much better, but his style of play could end up lowering their ceiling at the same time.

Also, can he stay healthy? He played all 82 games in a contract year last season, but prior to that he hadn't played more than 67 games in a season since 2002. I love the guy, but I wouldn't put money on him playing a full season again. Can the Clippers survive 25 games without their best player?

At best, I think the Clippers finish in the bottom half of the Western Conference playoff picture with some combination of Portland, Houston, Phoenix, Dallas, and Denver. Utah and New Orleans will be better, and the Lakers are still the cream of the crop.

Oh, yeah, the Lakers. Do you really think Kobe is going to let the Clippers take the city? Ever? Over his dead body.

But the Clippers biggest obstacle? Themselves! They're the Clippers! They're the Los Angeles Clippers, ladies and gentlemen. Let's not forget that little detail! They've had one good season, like, ever. With them, seeing is definitely believing.

YouTube Wars

While sifting through the World Wide Web earlier, I came across some YouTubage making more comparisons between Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant, which you aren't supposed to do because it's considered blasphemy and sacrilege in 49 states (trust me, I know). In Truehoop's Tuesday Bullets, Henry linked to an article some Lakers fan wrote reflecting on his team's great season, and at the end of it he gave a link to a YouTube clip he put together called "Kobe Bryant vs. Zone Defense," designed to "detail the superior defenses that Bryant and other superstars have to go up against in the modern era of basketball." It also included a quote from Mamba himself, opining for the rules of MJ's reign, when teams weren't allowed to zone up.

Related videos led me to the dispiciable Bruce Blitz's propaganda channel, bruceblitzconfession. He is anti-Kobe and pro-Jordan, to the core. There are athletes I don't like, but none I despise, at least not enough to lead a crusade against them, like Bruce has against Kobe, a man he seems to have a personal problem with. Bruce police's the text responses people make to his videos, because he wants to make sure no one is able to expose him and his B.S. Anyways, his video was called "Michael Jordan 1993 NBA Finals vs. Kobe Bryant 2008 NBA Finals," a response to mustseebbtv's "Michael Jordan vs Real Defenses," which displayed the traps, double/triple teams, and physical defenses MJ had to overcome during his era. Do you see what's going on here? It's a battle between Jordan Truthers and Kobe Defenders. KB42PAH (the Lakers fan) reps Kobe and mustseebbtv is with Jordan, and by making a video that attempts to demonstrate that their guy played in a superior defensive period, they are implicitly making the case that the defenses the other guy played against were inferior. Kobe v. MJ lies beneath the surface of virtually any mention of Kobe Bryant and Michael Jordan. And Bruce is obsessed with proving that Kobe is no Jordan.

I went to Bruce's channel to post a comment. In the description of his evidence-less video, he writes that Boston didn't use a zone to thwart Kobe, but rather, played man-to-man with rotating help, or the same defense Jordan played against. I typed that I did think Boston played some box-and-one zone against Kobe, and that besides, even if they're not in zone the absence of illegal defense makes it easier to bring help. Pre-2004-05, you were forced to be within an arms length of your man at all times; these days you are allowed to play further off of your assignment, strengthening help defense and putting restriction on one-on-one play. Remember, that's why the league put the new rules in in the first place, because they felt that there was too many offenses built around isolations and individual play, and not enough ball movement and team play. Someone like Kobesmith Black Mambazo (shout out to Dr. LIC), a venemous man who can strike with 99% accuracy at maximum speed, in rapid succession, only needs a split second opening, a smidgeon of room, do his damage. With the old rules in place, it's very likely that Boston's team defense, spectacular as it was, would have been, as Avon Barksdale once said, a little slow, a little late, in disturbing Kobe. And they definitely wouldn't have been able to force the ball out of his hands 35 feet from the basket.

My comment is "pending approval"...but I'm pretty sure it will never see the light of day, just like my comment on another video he posted. It featured Sam Cassell, in a guest spot with the boys on the TNT set. If my memory serves me, Kobe had just finished scoring 45 points against the Suns in Game 3 of a 2007 first round series, and Chuck asked Sam to repeat what he was saying in the green room. "He ain't Michael Jordan," Sam said, "but he the closest thing we got." Charles echoed that sentiment. Of course, Bruce manipilated the video so that you only heard the first half of that quote. What kind of a person does something like that? You can at least be honest, right? Seriously.

Listen, I'm done with the MJ-Kobe thing. I still believe that Kobe's game is more polished and expansive, but as Jayceon Taylor might put it, MJ was 100. He came through all of the time. Kobe only comes through most of the time. That's the difference. The only question that matters is who would you rather have on your team, and, no disrespect meant to Kobe at all, I'd rather have Jordan. Period.

But while Jordan played in a much more physical era in which hand-checking was allowed and it was OK to mug people on their way to the basket, Kobe has to play against smarter defenses, and never has it been easier to focus all of your defensive efforts on a single offensive player. Jordan supporters conveniently ignore that latter fact when they make their arguments.

Oh, and just one more thing: Last month, Bill Simmons wrote of Kobe having a "kryptonite flaw," bigger defenders with long reaches backed by smart teammates who remain aware of his every movement. He also said that Michael didn't have a "kryptonite flaw," and that "Jordan did whatever he wanted during a much more physical era, and when he faced a great defensive team - like the '89 and '90 Pistons or '93 Knicks - nobody ever shackeled him or knocked him into a scoring funk."

Well, here go MJ's numbers from the 1993 Eastern Conference Finals against New York: 32.2 points, 6.2 rebounds, 7.0 assists, and 2.5 steals, but only 40.0 percent from the field (Kobe shot 40.5 percent in the Finals against Boston). He shot a combined 62-of-155 in the six games - that's 25.8 shots a game (Kobe averaged 21.8 shots per in L.A.'s six-game clash with the Celtics). In Game 4 he exploded for 54 on Labor Day, in one of his most famous performances. He had 29 points (and 10 rebounds and 14 assists) on 11-24 shooting in Game 5 (the Charles Smith Game). But other than that? He shot 10-27 in Game 1, 12-32 in Game 2, 3-18 in Game 3, and 8-24 in Game 6. Nobody remembers this because the Bulls won the series, but it happened. It did. You can look it up.

Kobe, Shaq...fight!

I know I'm a little late on this, but I gotta weigh in...

This Shaq freestyle thing...it's gotta be the most ridiculous psuedo-sports story ever. It kicked off the 3 pm Sportscenter Monday afternoon, ESPN treating it as a mix between the JFK assassination and MJ's first retirement. They even had it passing thru the ticker. Poor Shaq had to release a statement assuring everyone that it was all in good fun and apologizing to anyone it offended, but it was too late: that stalwart Arizona sheriff took The Daddy's fake badge away. Consider the Big Pythagorean Theorem Imus'd.

And now, for the first time since their very public split four years ago, Kobe has the people on his side in a situation involving Shaq. For now, anyway. All Kobe has to do is keep his mouth shut and he wins; he'll come out smelling like a rose. While Shaq will be seen as a bitter, washed-up has-been subconsciously and unintentionally letting his insecurites come to light, Kobe will be viewed as the superstar with multiple rings in his future, who was too busy preparing to win a gold medal to stoop to Shaq's level and respond to the big man's childish antics. (Like Kobe would ever make a good PR move. Yeah, right.)

All of this kills me, but one aspect of this whole thing gets me more than anything else. You see, Shaq and Kobe made peace, but the treaty came after they were no longer on the same team. When those two played together it was the most unique situation in the history of basketball: never before had two players that good at the same time shared the same lineup, and unless Dwight and LeBron hook up on the Nets in 2014 we may never see anything like it again. It can't be overstated: Shaq and Kobe were devastating. That's the only word that does them justice. They were a nuclear weapon, the NBA's version of Little Boy, the mushroom cloud hovering over the rest of the league. And neither one of them fully appreciated it. I think Shaq realized what they had more than Kobe did, but he seemed to have a fundamental dislike for Kobe from the very start, and was probably a little jealous of Mamba's popularity, which, at least in the city of Los Angeles, exceeded his. Not to mention the fact that for the majority of their time together, Kobe refused to fall in line and fully accept his role as the second option.

Kobe didn't pay Shaq much mind, for the most part, but he should have accepted a subservient role just because it was better for the team. Other than in 2000 and 2002 (and they played together eight years), Kobe simply didn't do that. He wanted to win then just like he does now, but he also needed to dominate the ball in doing so. The reason Kobe played such team-oriented ball this year was because his teammated were better, yeah, but also because he knows that he's The Man on the Lakers and there's nobody on the team that's going to challenge that. When he played with Shaq, it was almost like he did too much because he was trying to make up for not being Top Dawg. Now, he no longer has that problem. Well, that's my theory, anyway. I'm not a psychologist, so please, feel free to completely disregard it.

Anyways, their inability to reach a compromise on the court (during the regular season of course - during the playoffs they got on the same page and won three championships) led to some genuine, real-life contempt, on a personal level. When Shaq took some subtle, subliminal but meaningful jabs at Kobe in preseason 2004, the Kobester responded with some much more personal, disproportionate overhand rights. The disdain was mutual and it was real; it wasn't just about basketball, they just didn't get along. Then, when Shaq went to the Heat, he launched a crusade against his former teammate that would last for a season and a half before Bill Russell finally got Shaq to bury the hatchett on MLK day 2006, on TNT, during a Miami-LA game at the Staples Center. A month later at the All-Star Game they shared a laugh together on the court like old pals, and there would be no flare-ups in the feud until recently, and of course Shaq swears he and Kobe are cool.

Which brings me to this memo: Shaq, Kobe, fellas...it's okay to hate each other now. You're not on the same team anymore. You had a good thing and you blew it: You won three championships together but you should have won six (in 2004 when Kobe wouldn't pass the ball to Shaq against Detroit in the Finals, and the two following years), all because neither one of you took the necessary steps to stay together and finish the job. Why get along now? Kobe, respond. Make a series of anti-Diesel mixtapes like Game did about 50 and G-Unit. Shaq, do another freestyle. And another one after that. Instill some stuff about Kobe being a ballhog into your stream-of-consciousness, for the next time you take the stage. You two should be at each other's throats at all times, consistent and casual verbal assaults and cheapshots. Hell, you should fight. Fisticuffs.

It would only make sense.

Curt Schilling: Equal Parts Jerk and Hall-of-Famer

For the record, I don't really like Curt Schilling.

He's always angling for the spotlight, sticking his nose into places it doesn't belong just so he can be heard from and generally just acting like a schmohawk. Was that sock really bloody or was it just ketchup? I'm sure it was the former, but it says something about Schilling's personality that it is even a discussion.

Schilling says there's a pretty decent chance he's thrown his last pitch, but I'm here to say that there's a 100 percent chance that whenever he retires he's not just going to just go away. He might become a manager, or a (very) outspoken commentator, or whatever, but he's not going to pull a John Stockton and just fade into the sunset. He's never going to let us forget he's still around. He's too annoying to let that happen.

So, in that sense, I'm not the strongest advocate of Curt Schilling. Noted.

But now that it appears his career is over, the question, naturally, is being thrown around: Is he a Hall-of-Famer?

I was listening to one of ESPN's baseball guys (I think it was Olney) this morning and he said that if Schilling got in it would probably be on the 14th or 15th ballot. The 14th or 15th ballot? Seriously? How insane is that? Never mind for a second that it doesn't make any sense for an athlete to get into the Hall-of-Fame on the 15th ballot (what makes a guy Hall-worthy in his 15th year of eligibilty that didn''t make him worth in his first?), and ask yourself one question:

In a big playoff game, what starting pitcher from the past 20 years would you rather have had on the mound than Schilling?

We're talking about a guy with a career postseason record of 10-2, with a 2.23 ERA. In 2001, he teamed up with the Big Unit in Arizona to pretty much singlehandedly slay the three-time defending champion Yankees, starting three of the seven games and allowing only 4 runs in 21 1/3 innings. In the 2004 ALCS with Boston, after he allowed 6 runs in only 3 innings in a Game 1 loss to the Yankees, he bounced back and did his part to force that historic Game 7, giving up a mere 4 hits and a single run over seven strong. Last year, in the ALCS versus Cleveland, he gave up 5 runs on 9 hits in only 4 2/3 action, he took responsibility for a poor performance and manned up in Game 6, six hits and 2 runs over seven innings to force another Game 7 that would lead to another Sox World Series appearance and title.

But because he only has 216 career wins (and to a lesser extent, no Cy Young's), his chances at Cooperstown are considered Borderline at best. I think stats are overrated in all sports, but especially in baseball, where it often seems that raw numbers are the only thing used to determine a person's greatness. If you don't hit one of the milestones (500 homers, 3,000 hits, 300 wins), your case for induction into the Hall is greatly diminished. Well, Schilling has 200+ wins, 3 rings, and the best postseason winning percentage in history. He's the best October pitcher of my lifetime, right ahead of Jack Morris (who should be in the Hall), John Smoltz (who should get in), and Josh Beckett (too early to tell). You were always better off for having him on your team, he always came through when it mattered most, and we'll always remember him.

Isn't that what being a Hall-of-Famer is all about?

Kobe, Kobe, Kobe

Poor Kobe. I was gonna wait until the dust settled on last night's massacre before I gave my piece, so I could guage from which angle I would attack it, but who was I kidding: Kobe is ALWAYS the story.

We could talk about the Celtics defense, which cemented itself as historically good with their python-like (or Mamba-like)suffocation of the high-scoring Lakers. We could talk about KG getting Mighty Joe Young off his back, or Little Shuttlesworth hitting 22 3's in the series, or P-Squared going to another level historically, or Doc Rivers putting a sock in Bill Simmons' mouth. We could talk about the Big Three as a whole, how they were brought together to accomplish a specific goal and did it through hard work, unselfishness, and a desperate commitment to winning.

Or we could talk about Phil Jackson getting worked by a speedbag, or the changes the Lakers must make in order to become tougher and better defensively (we have to make a move for Ron Artest).

We'll touch on those things here and there, but ultimately, it's all about Kobe. You know it and I know it.

He was so somber at the postgame press conference last night that you'd have thought he was speaking at a funeral. Other than losing a close family member or something like that, is there anything that could make Kobe more despondent than finally winning his first MVP and getting to the Finals without Shaq, only to see it all blow up in smoke?

Kobe's tone at the podium was that of a man who realizes that until he wins a 'chip without Tom Hanks (Big), he can never even begin to be considered the greatest. And we all know that Kobe is driven by the pursuit of just that. Kobe may not be the most self-aware person on the planet, but he is in touch with his goals and his desired legacy, as well as what he has to do to inherit it. He understands perceptions.

If Kobe weren't as good as he is, this wouldn't be a problem. If he didn't show so many flashes of Jordan, nobody would make the comparison. If he didn't have such rare ability he probably wouldn't have the same aspirarions. But Kobe walks like Jordan, he's picked up a lot of the on-court mannerisms of Jordan, he wanted his own team so he could win titles as The Man like Jordan, he wants to be the G.O.A.T. so he has to surpass Jordan, plus he's got talent and skills like Jordan, so he's judged against Jordan and Jordan alone.

He's held to a higher standard than Kevin McHale and Scottie Pippen, two Hall-of-Fame sidekicks with multiple rings who aren't thought of as top-tier legends.

He's even held to a higher standard than Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Oscar Robertson, Bill Russell, and Wilt Chamberlain, unequivocal legends of the sport.

He's held to the standard of Air.

Of course, most people don't want anyone to be better than Jordan, especially not Kobe, whom they don't like, anyway, so when he fails they jump all over him. Jordan's team wouldn't have blown a 24-point lead in the Finals. Jordan's team wouldn't have lost an elimination game by 39 points. And so on and so forth.

Maybe if people thought he was a good guy, they'd give him the benefit of the doubt. Kobe didn't play like an MVP this series, but it's not his fault that his No. 2 guy is soft and can't hold onto the ball, or that his No. 3 guy is wildly inconsistent, or that nobody on his team other than Derek Fisher is mentally tough or that his team has no heart or that they play no defense. Of course, everybody thinks he's a phony a-hole. Which brings me to my main point:

I feel sorry for Kobe because this is just one more moment of disappointment in what may just be a star-crossed career, and because I don't think he's just a complete a-hole. Some of the things Kobe has done are indefensible, but for the most part, I don't think he means to hurt anyone. I'm serious. You know how he never seems to be able to avoid controversy, no matter what he does? I don't think he's crazy, just that he had a unique upbringing and is wired a little differently than 99.999% of the athletes out there, and can't help but behave in a certain way. There are certain parts of Kobe's personality that mix together and make people dislike him, but I don't think Kobe bleeds jerk, like, say, Barry Bonds. Yet when he's down he's treated with a similar disdain.

This was supposed to be Kobe's year. Then, just when you thought it was his time...it wasn't. Now it's just another summer for people to bash him. Starting to think his story is destined to be a sad one.

You gotta feel for the guy. Or at least I do.

Lakers could use Bynum now more than ever

Let me start off by saying that I fully appreciate what Pau Gasol has done for the Lakers since his arrival here on February 1st. Simply put, he saved the Lakers season. He's a gifted offensive player with a versatile low-post game and excellent passing skills, and the ease with which he picked up the triangle is a testament to his uniquely high basketball IQ (seriously, how many guys could have picked up that famoulsy difficult offense on the fly like that, like they had been playing in it their whole lives?) And even when he plays poorly, he's still making a huge impact, his presence alone allowing the Lakers to function at a championship-level capacity. Without a legitimate low-post presence, someone who shoots a high percentage and gives Kobe a big target down low, these Lakers have proven to be very mediocre. The proof is in the pudding. So whatever you do, don't consider this to be a Pau Gasol diss-article. I'm no ingrate.

It's just that the more Gasol gets roughed up by the Celtics, the more I wonder whether or not the Lakers would be better off right now with Andrew Bynum occupying the pivot instead. In the first three rounds, I didn't think about it as much; Pau played just as flimsily, but the Lakers glided past Denver, Utah, and San Antonio with relative ease, so as much as his sissy play irritated me, I didn't hypothesize. But this Boston team is clearly a bad matchup for the Lakers - Kobe is the only guy that can guard Pierce, the Celtics defend Kobe as well as anyone, and Lamar Odom does NOT present a matchup problem for KG. Now more than ever, the Lakers need Gasol to stand up and be a MAN. And it just ain't in him. He's a finesse player through and through.

Now lets say, just for kicks, that Bynum is in the lineup instead of Gasol, which he would be if he had never gotten hurt. Pau is actually an underrated shotblocker - 2.1 a game this postseason, the same as Andrew was averaging before he came down on Odom's foot that fateful January night. But is Pau Gasol really gonna stop anyone from driving to the basket? Of course not. In Game 2, Leon Powe got the ball at three quarters court and drove right through the Lakers defense, Gasol swiping passively at the ball before watching Powe dunk ferociously. It reminded me of one time when I was in the fifth grade, and I took the ball and went the length of the floor and scored, and my little buddy Deonce said, "You guys just let Anthony Wilson take the ball, go the full court, go left to right, keep his dribble, split the defense, and make a layup." Just like I shouldn't have been able to do that as a 5'4", 125 lb 10 year-old, Leon Powe should not be allowed to look like LeBron James. Even if it meant getting impaled into the padding on the pole of the basket, Pau has got to step in there and at least attempt to stop the play.

No way Bynumite doesn't put a body on Leon Powe on that play. Gasol can't stand physical contact; Bynum, on the other hand, is clearly a little bit crazy and confrontational. He initiated an altercation with Shaq as an 18 year-old rookie, and there's a YouTube clip of a Lakers telecast where he's seen snapping back at Kobe during a timeout. And I mean angrily. He wasn't afraid.

Singlehandedly, Bynum would've shifted the battle in the paint in this series in the Lakers favor. Bynum imposes his size and athleticism on opponents; he dunks everything, and makes them feel hopeless. To paraphrase Lt. Colonel Frank Slade, he executes their souls! He's the kind of real big man that makes other real big men proud. The only person in the league with the mixture of size, athleticism, and attitude to match Andrew down low is Dwight Howard. Kendrick Perkins is a big boy, but he doesn't have the height to stop the long right arm of Bynum from dunking on his head. Kevin is still a beast, but he's not the extra-terrestrial creature he was when he was Da Kid. Bynum, like Howard, is not afraid to bang around and exert his physical superiority. If the Lakers had him right now instead of Gasol, they'd be in a better place.

Kobe Bryant Will Be Better Than Michael Jordan

Bryant is in his old world. We are just the unworthy spectators.

Look. I am tired of trying to compare Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant. So is Bryant. I do not think Jordan cares.

The problem I have is when those with the newly discovered Jordanclingitis* (as of today) Symptoms include: hallucinations, lack of interest in the present light, and partial vision impairment.

Here is my question. What is wrong with saying that Kobe Bryant can be better than Michael Jordan? The redundant statement of "no one will ever be like Mike" is ridiculous. That is why the world is hopefully progressive. We move on. We appreciate the past, as the future builds from it.

Something a lot of people realize is the Kobe Bryant will be better than Michael Jordan. Bryant has the all around ability to score at will. His ball-handling abilities are great, as well as his ability to facilitate an offense, being a distributor. These qualities put him on top of the NBA, and I am pretty sure the world.

On-the-court is what we need to focus on. Off-the-court actions make people actual living human beings, with flaws. Bryant has had his share of incidents that has led to a loss of endorsements and public scrutiny. As well as Jordan who dealt with a gambling issue here and there. Why no scrutiny for him? It is because many did not want to taint his image. They did not want their "hero" to be tarnished. Nobody had a problem watch Bryant as he began to crumble in the public eye. Nobody wants to accept him.

What happens off-the-court does not matter. We remember Jordan for his game winner against the Utah Jazz, not gambling problems. We do not remember Bryant for Colorado, but for scoring 81 points. If people open their eyes and accept Bryant for what matters (basketball), then more will be open to his greatness.

As Bryant destroy each team in his sights, there is no doubt in my mind that Bryant will exceed Jordan's abilities. Bryant, (as I said before), has the talent to put him above the gods of basketball. We are not talking about Jordan's 6 championships, scoring titles, all team defense selections, etc. We are talking about Bryant being better than Jordan as a pure basketball player; not as a trophy collector. Some of the greatest players do not have rings or barely any at all (Chamberlain, Malone, Stockton, Baylor, etc), but they are still regarded as the games best.

At this moment in time, Bryant is not better than Jordan. However, get ready; he might be already tapping the shoulder of Michael Jordan.

*Treatment includes watching game film of Kobe Bryant in this 2008 playoff season

To be continued...