Roy Vey!

It was only five seasons ago that Brandon Roy was named the ROY (that's Rookie of the Year). Now Brandon is done. The three-time all-star is hanging up his baggy shorts at the young age of 27 -in what should be his prime - due to knee ailments. The Blazer did go out in a blaze of glory. After barely playing in the second game of the team's opening round playoff series against Dallas, Roy scored 16 points in 23 minutes off the bench to help the Trail Blazers win. He followed-up in game 4 by pouring in 18 points in the fourth quarter to mount a come-from-behind, two-point victory that tied the series. Portland lost to the eventual NBA champs, but Roy was able to wow the hometown fans twice in what would wind up being his final two home games. The city of Portland is famous for its roses. Like the delicate flower, Roy's career was beautiful, but far too fleeting. As for what to do in early retirement, instead of whining about his maladies, he could open a winery, following in the fractured footsteps of the injury-ravaged Yao Ming (Bordeaux is a cure for boredom). Out of a rose comes rosé.

Crunch Time?

It's too late for Kris Humphries to check himself because he already wrecked himself with his mini-marriage to Kim Kardashian (the vows were amended to "'til death to us part... or the end of daylight savings time this year, whichever.") so he might as well check others - on the ice. That's the thinking behind the Syracuse Crunch, minor league hockey team, offering the free agent a place on its roster or in its front office.*

The AHL club's press release describes Humphries as a "scorned husband" and goes on assert that his life became "a running national joke" at the expense of his ex-wife. That should be a minor penalty for roughing the remnants of his ego. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, Crunch (or didn't the Captain teach you that^?) They assume Humphries loves hockey because he grew up in Minnesota. Stereotyping Minnesotans? As soon as they finish shopping at the Mall of America, you're going to hear from them, Crunch, in the form of a polite letter composed on Target stationary.

Still, without an NBA contract, Humphries should consider the deal. What better way to get over an ice queen than to get on the ice.

*With multiple positions open, we're thinking of submitting an application even though our understanding of hockey begins and ends with "The Mighty Ducks."
^We assume the team's name comes from a popular cereal.

Food for Thought

Kevin Garnett has no clue how to cook. For proof, we submit his analogy in trying to explain the downside to a truncated training camp: "Chemistry is something that you just don't throw in a frying pan and mix it up with another something and throw something on top of that, and then fry it up and put it in a tortilla, put it in a microwave, heat it up, and give it to you and expect it to taste good."

Let's move past his central complaint that the Celtics, being one of the oldest teams with a core that has been together for several season, are likely to be among the squads least adversely affected by the shortened camp time. Frying food, then microwaving it? In Garnett's kitchen anything is possible! We sincerely hope he employs a personal chef. We recommend a little less time with Ray Allen and more time with Ted Allen. It's not entirely Garnett's fault; since he went straight from high school to the NBA, he bypassed the college years, where you learn the valuable skill of microwaving all your meals(and popcorn is the only vegetable you eat).

Perhaps we're looking at this all wrong and it's actually chemistry he doesn't understand. In that case, it's best to stay away from burners both Bunsen and stove.

Welcome to Hollywouldn't

David Stern is the master of Chris Paul's universe.

Chris Paul isn't bound for L.A.; instead, he's bound hand and foot to LA, after the league declined another deal, this time from the Clippers, which would've sent the Hornets Eric Gordon, Al-Farouq Aminu, Chris Kaman and a 2012 first-round draft pick. The NBA was also insisting that the Clippers include Eric Bledsoe, making the price of four players plus a pick so high Charlie Sheen considered snorting the proposal*. Surrendering a third of its active roster - including 3 players age 22 or younger (and a former All-Star) - in exchange for one player would've hurt the Clippers more than adding Paul would've helped them. Yes, the possibility of putting Paul with Blake Griffin is tempting for the astronomical amount alley-oops alone, but they'd need help, more help than even a Butler can provide.

Poor Paul, as if it's not aggravating enough that twice in the span of a work week he thought he was headed out West; instead West is headed out. Paul's pick and roll partner, David West, has agreed to terms with the Pacers. We were willing to cut David Stern some slack the first time because we thought the Lakers deal was like our checkbook - unbalanced - but the Clippers, while they play in a large market, receive little more national attention than the Hornets. Furthermore, the second trade was fair. By acting like He-Man - shouting "I have the power!" - Stern^ is, in effect, holding Paul hostage on a terrible team. If he wants the franchise to be attractive to potential buyers by retaining Paul for this shortened season, then why let the second-best player leave, especially considering that the contract West signed is only for two years? How is it just to allow one All-Star to walk away, while forcing the other to stand still? Even in Cajun country, caging a man is wrong.

*We simply snorted at the absurdity of the increased demand.

^ That makes Deputy Commissioner Adam Silver Man-at-Arms.

An A-Paul-ing Move

Yesterday, the NBA played its version of Deal or No Deal, rescinding a trade that would have sent Chris Paul to the Lakers in exchange for Pau Gasol and Lamar Odom (Gasol was to be re-routed immediately to the Rockets for Luis Scola and Kevin Martin, one more live body and a future draft pick). If the Lakers had been able to pull off the move, it would have been the second time in three years that the flagship franchise fleeced another small-market team to acquire a superstar (the prior one being Memphis for Gasol), which is probably why David Stern put his wingtipped foot down. Since the league owns the Hornets, they are free to veto any of the team's transactions, so Stern said "no" to NO. Hornets GM Dell Demps discovered that making moves in the Big Easy isn't very easy.

The trade was like a light switch: it was on, it was off, the whole time surging with power. Allegedly, other owners blew a fuse over the news (with Dan Gilbert, aka "the Cleveland calligrapher," putting his feelings into writing again), angered that a West coast equivalent of the Heat was being assembled (Andrew Bynum being left out meant that the Lakers still had an asset to offer for Dwight Howard), causing the commissioner to refuse the exchange. The only comment thus far from the league is that that trade was rejected for "basketball reasons." As opposed to what, rugby reasons? It was within Stern's rights, but was it the right thing to do, to interfere to that extent? Pay no attention to the man standing behind the curtain, even if he's left the curtain partially open so the public can peek in. No one was left more shocked by the turn of events than Chris Paul, who expected to bring his electrifying play to L.A. After not letting Paul bolt, the least Stern can do is check on Paul's current condition, providing an outlet for him*.

*If we are guilty of using too many electricity puns, we accept the charge.

Bored Games

Even though we're more excited for the return of the NBA than LeBron is to win free fries in the McDonald's Monopoly game*, there is a downside to the lockout ending. Kevin Love and Blake Griffin must cease their intense Jenga matches. They'll have to settle for putting up bricks on the court when training camps open on December 9. Sorry! guys, but it's time to resume sinking shots instead of battleships.

To the players who went abroad: Trouble has been thwarted, so get a Clue, come back from the far corners of the Earth and stop putting yourself at Risk of injury. Love and Griffin aren't the only NBA stars engaged in a Trivial Pursuit. We gather that, based on his background, Pau Gasol is tough to beat in Operation.

And Glen Davis, leave knitting and popsicle stick projects to the very old and very young, respectively.

*You'd think a man whose nickname is "King James" would endorse a certain burger chain with a more regal theme.

NBA Season's Greetings

You heard it here last: A tentative agreement was reached late Friday night* and it looks like the lockout has been lifted. You could categorize this truce as a "Christmas miracle," since that's the day the shortened season is scheduled to start on, thus confirming that professional basketball is truly the greatest gift of all (because peace on earth wouldn't be much to watch and all our goodwill towards men goes out the window after hearing those donation bells clanging for more than a month).

The plan is for 66 regular season games, with 48 conference games. We like those numbers. We associate 66 with Route 66, one of the most famous highways in America, and reminds of a simpler time when the open road was an adventure and gas was affordable; while 48 calls to mind 48 Hours and reminds us of a better time when Eddie Murphy made funny movies^.

In the end, decimal points may have been the difference. Under the deal, players will receive 51.2% of all basketball-related income, down from 57% last year, but the divide being slightly in labors' favor was essential to ending the lockout. Owners yielded on several key points, including backing off of a hard salary cap that can't be exceeded, reducing the rookie wage scale and eliminating contract extensions prior to trades. From the details that have emerged, it appears the players got a decent deal, better than the one that was supposedly the league's "final offer."

On Twitter, Kevin Durant summed up our rapturous reaction when he wrote: If this is true I am bouta go wake my mom n grandma up and put on a suit and thunder hat and cry! We were tempted to do the same (minus the suit, unless he meant a jump suit) and our loved ones are an 8-hour car ride away.

The impasse is over and fans didn't have to march in Manhattan protesting to prompt progress, although, if necessary, we were prepared to occupy John Wall's street.

*We'll take the credit for this, since a day after snapping the turkey wishbone and asking for an agreement our wish was granted. Maybe the negotiations needed a genie instead of an arbiter. Ok, you caught us in a lie, we didn't break the wishbone or even eat turkey on Thanksgiving, but we did chow down on a bowl of Lucky Charms and that has to count for something.

^These were actually times before we were born and when we were less than 1, respectively.

Decertifiably Crazy

The NBA now stands for Needless Blood-sucking Attorneys*. The players' union suing the league is about as smart a strategy as stealing 7'6" Shawn Bradley's bicycle^.

Fitting, since the NBA season is in jeopardy, that Chris Paul went on Family Feud. Survey says: they stunk. The wheel of fortune did not spin his way and if the lockout drags on, players considering going on that game show might not be able to afford to buy a vowel. The fear factor of a lost season is increasing every day and we'd hate to see Joe Johnson embarrassing himself for a few grand in front of Joe Rogan (then again, we hate to see Joe Rogan at all). Something else for NBA players to consider is that most can't fit comfortably in the Cash Cab.

Our idea for a game show is: Who Wants to be a Millionaire, Again? It's either that or The Mark Price is Right.

*They're like vampires - they speak in archaic terms, have heavily-gelled hair and under no circumstances should you let them into your house.

^ Mitt Romney's just happy a Mormon is in the news.

Boomshakalockout!

If you were a youngster growing up in the '90s, regardless of whether you cared about the NBA, you were captivated by the 2-on-2 basketball arcade game, NBA Jam*, Midway's smashing, successful sequel to Arch Rivals. Beyond the sheer simplicity of its pick-up-and-play style, the appeal for hoops fans was the official license from the league to use the real teams' names, as well as the revolutionary incorporation of digitized faces of actual players (except Michael Jordan, who, to this day, is still an obstinate dick - only about the lockout, not his video game likeness). For the first time, it felt like you were controlling your favorite stars and, even more thrilling, inducing them to leap 30-feet into the air to execute a 360-helicopter jam or forcefully shove a foe down at half court to jar the ball loose, acts either impossible or illegal in real life.

Even though it's an unrealistic simulation - or precisely for that very reason - 1993's NBA Jam still ranks as one of the best basketball games ever created (sorry, Slam City with Scottie Pippen). Maybe it's our fondness for it, that causes us to find this work stoppage-inspired parody so hilarious. Like a meticulous musician, we can never have enough Jam sessions.

*Chances are, you were also captivated by parachute pants and sneakers that you could inflate.

Getting Over the Hump(hries)

On Halloween, Kris Humphries learned he married a witch. His inadvisable marriage to Kim Kardashian lasted a scant 72 days before she filed for divorce, which was just slightly more time than the E! special on their nuptials aired for. There are probably wedding presents she hadn't even opened yet.

You might as well go ahead and eat that saved piece of cake in the freezer, Kris. At least the dessert, unlike your wife, is sweet and has layers. Enjoy the treat because unfortunately, you got tricked.

Here's a fun fact: As of October 31, the lockout had lasted 51 more days than their matrimony - or, as Kim spells it, "matrimoney."

Hershey's Disses

This is the only Skor NBA supporters will be seeing for some time.

Some jokes for Halloween. You don't need taffy to be laffy.

Q: How is Billy Hunter similar to zombies?

A: They both need brains!

Q: What do David Stern and vampires have in common?

A: They both suck!

Q: What is alike about NBA players and mummies?

A: They're both wrapped up in themselves!

Q: What history do witches and NBA fans share?

A: They've both been burned unfairly!

Q: How is the lockout like licorice?

A: It leaves a bad taste in your mouth!

Q: How is the NBA like a ghost?

A: They both can't be seen!

Two Weeks Noticed

It's going to be November to not remember in the NBA because no games will be played. The commissioner and magician-in-training is expected today to make another two weeks worth of games disappear, forfeiting a fortnight for a second time. Instead of sawing a woman in half, he's performing the trick on the schedule, but unlike the lady, we can't be assured that the regular season will be put back together. David Stern is no David Blaine. He's much closer to Gob Bluth*.

If Stern keeps removing two weeks of hoops at a time, we can put two and two together to deduce that there won't be basketball in 2011 - and likely beyond. Hocus-pocus, both sides have lost focus and soon - poof - their popularity will vanish faster than Criss Angel's.

*Maybe management should seek out the banana stand. There's always money in the banana stand.

Sweet Sixteen

Don't break out the cake with 16 candles yet, but labor and management spent a Long (Duk Dong) 16 hours meeting Tuesday, on the 110th day of the lockout, co-existing with the aid of George Cohen, a federal mediator. We assume the time was well-spent; that players and owners discussed dividing the league's revenue 50-50 and didn't go catch a midnight screening of 50/50*. If we learned anything from My Super Sweet 16 (besides that being wealthy and white is every bit as wonderful as we imagined - the only thing better is also owning an NBA team), it's that the number 16 signifies defiant demands and bratty behavior. We think the talks transpired thusly:

Players: We want a pony.

Owners: We already gave you a pony.

Players: No, that's a miniature horse. We want a pony!

Owners: Oh. Well, what's the difference?

Players: GIVE US OUR PONY!

Owners: Now, hold on. A pony is a big responsibility. Do you promise to take care of it?

Players: Yes.

Owners: Will you feed it and clean out its stall?

Players (impatiently): Yes, yes.

Owners: And you'll do this using your own money?

Players (shocked): What?!

Owners: The money out of your allowance that we give you.

Players: I hate you! This is the worst lockout EVER!

(Players storm off)

Mediator (wistfully, to Owners): They grow up so fast, don't they?

Owners: Yes, they grow absurdly fast and abnormally tall. That's why they play pro basketball.

Mediator: You realize this lockout is going to leave fans more depressed than Jerry West, right?

Owners (snidely): They can always turn to hockey. Hahahaha!

Mediator (somberly): You heartless sons of bitches.

We wonder: were there more shaved heads in the movie or in the negotiating room?

Appetite for Self-Destruction

There's a "gulf" war in the NBA. David Stern casually canceled the first two weeks of the season like it was The Playboy Club. The move eliminates 100 games from the schedule, all but assuring that a full season's slate of games is now out of the question for the second time in league history. "We just have a gulf that separates us [management and labor]," Stern said, adding that axing more games is likely. The first cut probably won't be the deepest, disappointing Cat Stevens as well as the Bobcats.

82 is the number of games each team plays. 82 is also the atomic weight of lead, the heavy metal the league is now sinking like into a gulf. Speaking of elements, there is an element of conspiracy when players association executive director Billy Hunter flippantly said about games being sloppily deleted at the last minute like they were porn files on your office computer, "I'm convinced that this is all just part of the plan." Accusing the owners and commissioner of wanting to lose games as a negotiating ploy doesn't set a civil tone. Maybe Hunter should watch How to be a Gentleman. Wait, that's been cancelled, too.*

Stern went on to say, "with every day that goes by, we need to look at further reductions in what's left of the season." It sounds like a Guns N' Roses guitarist won't be the only guy nicknamed Slash when Stern's through. Except, unlike the band, we won't be welcomed to the jungle because the NBA doesn't have fun or - for the moment - games.

*Players without contracts can't even sit around and watch Free Agents, another fall TV victim.

Yes, We Cancel

It figures. We have a man in the White House who's passionate about basketball, enough so to invite players over for pickup games, and somehow a lockout is about to occur while he's in the Oval Office. It's looking like more jobs will be lost under his watch. Curiously, the last time an NBA lockout happened, 1998-1999, was also the last time a Democrat was living in the White House (Bill Clinton loved college b-ball too, but not to the extent that he invited an expert to help him fill out his NCAA tournament bracket, which Obama does for the women's side, too, and yet there was no bigger fan of women than Clinton).

Obama needs to take action. If Congress can insert itself into baseball to investigate steroids, then surely the President can intervene to save the NBA season. Speaking with David Stern is bound to be more productive than meeting with John Boehner (and there should be less crying). Please, President Obama, give us what you ran on in 2008: hope. Better yet, give us hoops.

Historically, Republicans have known how to strike fear in the hearts of unions. Does this mean we should vote for a GOP candidate in 2012? Considering the name of his family's vacation home, we don't think Rick Perry would be an effective broker in lifting the lockout. Unless he threatened to put all the players on death row if they didn't suit up. Ron Paul would eliminate referees and allow players to regulate themselves, causing chaos. Mitt Romney would be in favor of health care for players in one meeting and then against it in the next session. The concern isn't that he's a Mormon, it's that he's a moron. Herman Cain might be able to deliver us pro hoops. At the very least, he can deliver us pizza. Because if it's not possible for us to be both fat and happy, we still want to be fat.

Mamba Mia!

Like father, like son. Kobe Bryant told an Italian newspaper that it's "very likely" he would play for a club in that country should the NBA's lockout persist. Bryant spent his formative years in Italy during his dad's seven-year stint balling there. A Turkish team tried to woo Kobe, but he's more receptive to romance from a nation that speaks a Romance language, one Kobe remains fluent in. Kobe being ready for Rome isn't the only example of an NBA player ready to roam, just the most prominent. If Kobe laces up his walking boots to play in the place shaped like a boot, there will be a black snake moan heard coming from the commissioner's office.

The league likes to pride itself on embracing Thomas Friedman's progressive theory that the world is flat. Well, the NBA is on the verge of flat-lining, postponing the opening of training camp and canceling the first week of preseason games (remember: no preseason games were missed in the resolution of the NFL's lockout, a markedly more successful league). Above-average foreign players, such as Rudy Fernandez and Danilo Gallinari are heading home (to Spain and Italy, respectively). Meanwhile, Denver might as well move their franchise to China (for starters, they'd be closer to the Nike factories), as Kenyon Martin becomes the third Nugget to pick the People's Republic (how now retired Yao?) and the fifth to decide to hoop it up outside the U.S.

The Great Wall land already had Wal-Mart, now it has K-Mart as well*. There's a blue light special on NBA veterans and China and other countries are stocking up. By the time the lockout is over, the association's domestic cupboards may be bare and 30 American teams don't want to be stuck buying off-brand ballers because the best have bolted. NBA, don't get left holding the (shopping) bag, because despite what American Beauty tried to convince us, there's nothing interesting about an empty bag.

*There are no Targets, but considering the Chinese reverence for red, they'd love the chain.

Uncalled Fore

With six championships to his name, Michael Jordan is part of an elite club, so it makes sense he'd want an elite tote* to hold his clubs. Behold, his brag bag:

Your half-dozen titles are meaningless on the links, MJ. Do you have your caddie carry your rings on the course? Swap the Air Jordans for cleats and don't look to the Jumpman logo for help - your enormous vertical leap is useless in golf (unless you're hopping up to look for the ball you mis-hit into the woods). The owners and players may not be able to iron things out, but at least you have a cocky carrier for your 5-iron.

*NPR's won't suffice.

David is Goliath

By publicly pronouncing his pessimism, David Stern is making a giant mistake. "We did not have a good day," he sourly stated after talks Tuesday. Still, on the scale of Alexander (terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day) to Ice Cube (I gotta say, today was a good day), his feel somewhere in the middle, which some saw as encouraging. Then came the rest of the week, when players and owners met amongst themselves that, as much chatter as there was around them about compromise, they couldn't care less about it (which is exactly how we feel about Mad Men).

It's a bully move by the owners, but keep in mind that these are a different breed of bullies: they give out lunch money instead of taking it away. Enough lunch money for a three-course meal. And the food being served wasn't cafeteria-grade. The steak was Sirloin, not Salisbury. The owners simply want to scale back and cut the course to two. Players will still eat well, they just won't get Glen Davis-fat*.

On Thursday, players and union leaders donned shirts with the word "stand" printed on them for a press conference, but one side needs to stand down^. If they keep slinging stones and stonewalling, there is no (sling)shot of the season starting in 2011. David Stern, unlike Goliath, will not fall on his face.

* Does this argument make us pro-management? No, it makes us hungry.

^After all, didn't Rosa Parks teach us that fighting for your rights involved sitting?

Pretty McFly for a White Guy

Great Byron Scott! The future of footwear is finally here. The Nikes featured in the film Back to the Future Part II have been released - and four years early (you may recall the movie is set in the year 2015). However, the high tops come with copious caveats. For one, they are limited in number to 1,500 pairs. Secondly, they won't be available at the Twin Pines Mall or, for that matter, any other shopping center. Instead, they are being sold auction-style, through ebay, with proceeds going to Michael J. Fox's charity. Bidding began at 99 cents, but quickly escalated to the point where only NBA players could afford to purchase the product - and that might even be in doubt, since none of them are currently collecting a paycheck. Lastly and much to our dismay, while the sneakers do illuminate (for up to 3,000 hours), alas, the laces are not self-tying, as seen on the silver screen. The company hints that feature will be unveiled in 2015 (and they have, in fact, patented the design). Just do it already, Nike. Take Doc's advice, "If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything."

Christopher Lloyd, Kevin Durant and Bill Hader for some reason star (what, the guy who played Biff was too busy to portray the shoe salesman?) in this amusing promo video. We're not blaming you for the enduring lockout, Nike, but we are suggesting that an invention as incredible as power laces could've ended the power struggle. Still, we'll try to be MAGnanimous about it.

Getting Things Off Our Chess*

This stalemate is growing stale, mate. Stop trying to be Bobby Fischer, Derek Fisher. The only gambit we like is in X-Men, so can someone please inform us if the endgame is near? With only two months until the regular season is scheduled to start, management and labor met yesterday for just the second time since the lockout began, for another woefully short session (six hours).Someone should tell them 30 Minutes or Less is a movie, not a mediating motto. Although maybe strapping a bomb to Jesse Eisenberg and making him march into NBA headquarters would speed up a settlement. The sides can't afford to wait another month to meet or merely go through the motions negotiating, since training camp is slated to open one month from today.

Both parties need to make concessions. Players are overpaid. There's no escaping that when the evidence is right in front of our eyes. Rashard Lewis had the second-highest salary last season at $20.5 million. The likes of the often-injury and ineffective Andrei Kirilenko, Vince Carter, Kenyon Martin, Michael Redd and Peja Stojakovic all made well north of $15 mill. Remember, that's guaranteed money. Now this is largely the owners' fault, since the player don't overpay themselves.

But if the league is really in flux financially, why were there buyers willing to snatch up the Sixers and Hawks, two teams with dismal attendance, when the new owners can't even be certain when their franchises next games will be? In fact, Sixers sold for more than double the price they were purchased for 15 years ago (they went for $130 mill. in 1996 and $280 this July). Seems like a valuable asset to us, despite the commissioner's claims to the contrary.

Maybe there's no sense of urgency because players have all manner of options overseas now and owners will still be rich, regardless (just not as rich). Popularity was peaking, but fans can't be converted into pawns, to be emotionally manipulated. Ratings don't magically re-appear when a person or product does. Ask Conan O'Brien. If chess is corrupted, we can move on to the Chinese counterpart, Xiangqi, just as players like Wilson Chandler, can move on to China's pro hoops equivalent. And if owners prevent pro basketball from being played, we'll follow the college version. This isn't about checkmating an opponent, it's about both sides being willing to split the check. If this drags on without a resolution, don't count on fans feeling Deep Blue about it.

*While we respect the recreation, the most important Grandmaster is still Flash.

The Lockout Hits a New Lowe's

It seems Delonte West would rather watch paint dry - and get paid to do so - than sit idly waiting for the lockout to end. West has applied for a job at a hardware store. If West has filled out his forms honestly, he'll have noted that he attended but didn't complete college and that he's a convicted criminal with weapons charges to his name. Why would West pursue low-level labor? Well, skull and crossbones neck tattoo tend to scare off those in corporate world (and you can't wear turtlenecks to the office everyday to cover it up). West made over $850K last season, so we don't think a modest hourly wage will allow him to sustain his lifestyle. We're skewering him so savagely because, whether he realize it or not, he's making a mockery of the plight of people who are genuinely struggling to scrape by and someone who earns nearly a million per year should be capable of saving some money for situations such as this.

West's menial job hunt isn't without precedent. During his rookie year, Ron Artest applied at Best Buy because he coveted the employee discount. Turns out it's not illegal immigrants who are stealing work from average, assiduous Americans , it's NBA players. Whether West wants to stock screws because several of his are loose, there are two pertinent questions: 1. He can nail a jumper and grab a board, but can he sell nails and boards? 2. Did he put down Gloria James as a reference?

Apocalypse Yao

It was fitting that around the same time NASA shuttered its space shuttle program, the largest Rocket of all chose to ground himself for good. After fighting a losing battle with innumerable injuries, Yao made the difficult decision to retire, several months shy of his 30th birthday*. As one of the tallest to ever play in the NBA, he reached heights fellow giants Shawn Bradley, Gheorghe Muresan and the late Manute Bol never did (to be fair, he was more well-prepared through extensive training than any of those men - and also more talented).

Yao didn't make anyone in Houston forget Hakeem Olajuwon (Yao wasn't "The Dream," more of a favorable fantasy), but he held his own against his peers in the pivot. He could've wound up a punchline, but because of his persistence, became a perennial All-Star - although some of his selections were the result of popularity more than performance (to counter the perception that it was the fans inflating his worth, he was named to the All-NBA team 5 times, which is voted on by members of the media, but never the first team). Big men with raw potential enter the league every year; Yao was the rare center who fulfilled his. His footwork ensured he was more than a footnote in NBA history, like Wang Zhizhi.

If any aspect of his career was disappointing, besides the seemingly infinite injuries and the lack of postseason success (Yao only made the second round of the playoffs once), it was where he elected to deliver the news of his retirement: in China. The Rockets GM was the only person present and he had to ask permission to attend the press conference. Maybe Yao did that because he made a larger impression there than he did here. After all, he introduced the league to millions of Chinese, in the process growing the game globally more than any player before him (and probably more than any single person in the future can, unless we see an Indian-born baller). We're certain the relative ease of his transition has influenced players to ponder going overseas during the lockout, even if they're unfamiliar with the culture and language. Maybe he felt an obligation to his own people (he's already bought his old team, the Shanghai Sharks, to save them from folding) to say goodbye in front of them. Or maybe the shy seven-footer was once again avoiding the American spotlight that he has ducked as best he could since 2002 (still, he relented enough to co-author an autobiography and agree to a documentary).

It took a player with an enormous wingspan to stretch across continents and pull in new fans to basketball, which he did with his play, not his personality. Yao was determined to be a star, not a sideshow. For his role as an ambassador, Yao deserves a spot in the Hall of Fame. Yao Ming, just like a piece of art from the actual Ming dynasty, was fragile, priceless and a sight to behold.

*This depresses us to no end, being very close to our 30th birthday as well. The only way we'd be headed downhill faster is if we were on skis.

No Game Hunter

In a discouraging divination, players association executive director Billy Hunter doesn't foresee a 2011-12 season taking place, saying the squabbling sides are "$800 million apart per year," a Shaq-sized gap (maybe in his retirement, the conciliatory center can remake himself as "The Big Arbiter"). Hunter blames obstinate new owners, who he alleges are holding David Stern's "feet to the fire." Make no mistake, if an entire season is lost, the flames from this fire will spread far and wide, burning all bodies involved -- be they owners, players, union reps or the commissioner. We want to follow the Trailblazers, not follow the trail of a destructive blaze. Both sides have thrown kindling into this bonfire of the greedy*.

Unlike during the NFL's work stoppage, players' testiness hasn't manifested itself in truculent Tweets (unless Gilbert Arenas dissing his dates counts), but they have become belligerent while balling. Matt Barnes punched a player in a pickup game (and wasn't ejected), while Michael Beasley took temper troubles to another level by shoving a spectator. In separate youth camps they conduct, footage surfaced of LeBron James forcefully throwing down on a teen, while Dwyane Wade was spotted blocking layup attempts of kids several feet shorter than him, compelling us to pose the question: Are these guys teaching or terrorizing those tykes? We're not sure what Ron Artest is up to at the moment, but there could be money to be made by the mental health advocate in founding a counseling camp for his peers. Right now, locked-out players lashing out against those around them appears to be all the rage.

* or the electric gatorade acid test, for you Tom Wolfe fans

Rucker and Ruckus*

This is what happens when you slash the summer league, David Stern. Kevin Durant drifts far from his Midwestern home onto the hallowed ground of Harlem's Rucker Park in search of a place to play the game he loves. The two-time reigning scoring champion poured in 66 points there on Monday, proving he's comfortable on a court whether it's indoors or outside. For an encore, he posted 41 the next night at a college gym in Manhattan (that contest featured another 60+ point-performance, so we're guessing these games took the All-Star Weekend approach to defense). Still, the lockout needs to end before superstars start signing up for Slamball squads (yes, it's still around; in fact, 20,000 people on Facebook "like" it^).

Meanwhile, LeBron is so bored he takes to tweeting about Tim Tebow (and the media is so starved for stories they cover LeBron's comments as if they're noteworthy news -- for the record, journalists, Twitter is a medium dedicated to sharing your unvarnished opinion, and LeBron's, especially by athletes' standards, was tame and tasteful), sticking up for maybe the only true golden boy (in the fans' eyes) left in professional sports, after criticism from the oft-concussed and seldom-sensible ESPN analyst Merril Hoge, who thought being a scrub running back qualified him to be an expert on evaluating what it takes to be a successful quarterback in the NFL. We don't have a religious reason for backing Tebow, like a legion of his backers, but after three starts on a terrible team in which he fared fine for a rookie QB, the jury is out on Tebow, so for Hoge to conclusively state that Tebow isn't equipped play now or possibly ever, is both incorrect (the stats don't support his argument) and idiotic.

If David Stern, who haughtily didn't even bother returning to the negotiating table until the start of August (and them arrogantly accused the players of not being serious about engaging in talks), would concentrate less on playing hardball, maybe the league he runs could get back to playing basketball, so we wouldn't have to discuss playing football (although Nate Robinson is relieved that at least one lockout is over).

* Sorry to all you Hootie and the Blowfish fans who thought this post was about Darius Rucker.
^That might be more people than "like" the WNBA -- by several thousand.

Migrate Idea

Deron Williams is choosing to go down the road once defiantly trodden by Allen Iverson, only he's trekking to Turkey in the prime of his career (some people will do anything to avoid remaining in New Jersey*), not at the tail end, like Iverson, who burned more bridges than an architect-turned-arsonist. Although Turkey embraced Iverson upon his arrival, he wasn't willing to hug back, because he headed home extremely early, playing in a handful of games before returning stateside, claiming a mysterious injury, all of this relayed through his manager. The experiment, involving the volitile element known as "AI," exploded. Williams seemed unstable and ill-at-ease all last season, so his country crossing could be combustible, too.

Williams won't be alone in his world walkabout. Perrenial all-stars Amar'e Stoudemire, Dwight Howard and Kevin Durant have all expressed curiosity ("interest" is a strong word in this case) in playing overseas. However, if you think it's for the love of the game or even the paycheck, that's a load of Istanbulshit. Primarily, it's posturing; players using the only bargaining chip they have, a scare tactic that won't work against the unshakeable David Stern, who won't blink until a big name bolts. For now, at least, Turkey is a game of chicken.

NBA players tend to be creatures of habit, who struggle outside of their comfort zone. Kobe, having spent his formative years in Italy and being fluent in multiple languages, is the exception to the rule. He is cultured and that has always isolated him to an extent in the NBA (his aloof personality hasn't helped). Williams' new club, Besiktas, has been making overtures to Kobe -- and officially met with him on Saturday. With Bryant displeased that he wasn't even consulted about the Lakers coaching hire and the international governing body of basketball, FIBA, giving its blessing for players to present their passports, it isn't out of the realm of possibility that Kobe's lone wolf mentality could take over, causing him to accept Besiktas' offer. Consider: he already serves as spokesman for Turkish Airlines, so his flights should be free.

The NBA isn't comfortable with making traveling calls and similarly, players will be hesitant to make the call to travel. However, if Kobe elects to drop anchor in Ankara, Stern's would more than blink, he'd probably remove his glasses and rub his eyes in disbelief and aggravation. All things considered, Turkey could be the key to ending the lockout.

*We can definitley relate

Mama Said Lock You Out

Management and labor put forth so little effort Thursday in negotiations (it reminded us of LeBron in the 4th quarter of the Finals) that by mid-day they ceased meeting. They didn't work until the wee hours; they didn't even work until happy hour. Why bother seeking a resolution when all that's at stake is saving a season and a product at its peak? Neither party are compromisers, just misers, hell-bent on hoarding the wealth they've accumulated. For people so rich, they exhibit poor judgment in letting their agreement lapse and wasting an opportunity to outshine the NFL through a swift and scrupulous settlement. But no one wanted to put on their thinking caps when it came to concessions on the salary cap, so they all deserve dunce caps. It was already going to be a cruel summer with the Las Vegas league canceled, where betting and basketball blend as in a Tim Donaghy fantasy. Like Kobe's silence towards Mike Brown, we've developed lockout lockjaw. The only CBA we care to discuss is the Continental Basketball Association. In our eyes, a locked out league has about as much life in it as a defunct one.

Slamming Pumpkins

Barring a last-minute miracle in negotiations on Thursday -- and the sides don't seem serious about getting a deal in place before July 1 -- since they declined to meet today, the NBA is headed for a work stoppage. Still, David Stern said the owners haven't voted to begin the lockout after the agreement expires, so it's possible the deadline could be extended if talks tomorrow are productive. Stranger things have happened this week, such as Ron Artest, channeling his inner World B. Free, filing paperwork in Los Angeles to legally change his name to "Metta World Peace ('Metta meaning "loving kindness in Pali, not the more apt meta that far better represents Artest)." Three thoughts: 1. Was Maitri Global Harmony already taken? 2. Was Chad Ochocinco consulted at any point? 3. Oh, Artest, gentle soul that he is, wasn't trying to clobber J.J. Barea, he was attempting to hug Barea's face with his open hand and extended arm.

And he's not the only Laker out of his gourd. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar made a video of himself dunking a pumpkin to promote the Smashing Pumpkin's new album. No, this isn't a "Siamese Dream," but it could be more evidence that Billy Corgan really loves the year "1979." Three thoughts: 1. This probably won't get him that statue in front of the Staples Center he's been openly lobbying for. 2. Abdul-Jabbar looked comfortable handling a vegetable in a sports setting. Does he play squash with actual squash? 3. We guess he's saving the skyhook for their follow-up record.

It's a Rough Draft (with sketchy talent)

Perhaps it's lethargy from the looming lockout, but we're as excited to watch this draft as we are to see a Shaq sex tape*. Everything about this year's event seems second-rate, from the athletes to the location. As a New Jersey native and with apologies to visionary mayor Cory Booker, we can safely say that nothing good happens in Newark (that could even be the city's slogan or "Newark: Better than Jersey City since 2006"). There are no assured anchors of a franchise or perennial All-Stars to be selected. Even the most well-known players all have detectable defects. The expected top pick, Kyrie Irving, played in a grand total of 11 games, making a mockery out of the phrase "college career." If his intent was never to stay beyond his freshman year, which it clearly was, then he should've chosen the more courageous path and played overseas, like Brandon Jennings and competed against other professionals. Instead, he dipped his toe in the waters of college hoops, only to injure said toe, but the microscopically small sample size isn't enough to scare away scouts, who overvalue potential as opposed to production.

The rest of the recognizable field contains flaws, too. Derrick Williams is decent, but delusional. He believes he should be the first pick because he has the most "star quality," which is ironic since most of the country hadn't heard of him until NCAA tournament time. Furthermore, he is confident that in Cleveland, he can "fill in for a big star like LeBron." Yes, and MTV's re-imagining of^ "Teen Wolf" is capable of filling in for Michael J. Fox's film. Those comments filled us with laughter and made us wonder if Williams looks at himself in a funhouse mirror. Good luck replacing a once-in-a-generation phenom. Kemba Walker is small and a scorer, who might struggle to get his shot off as a pro and will require lessons on how to set-up teammates. Jimmer Fredette is slow and suspect on defense. Enes Kanter is intriguing due to his height and experience, but because he was declared ineligible to play in college (so he studied instead), he hasn't suited up since 2009, a troubling time when Charlie Sheen was employed and Osama bin Laden was alive. There are other European candidates, but we know as much about them as we do the metric system (you could easily convince us a "Valanciunas" is a unit of measurement). Bismack Biyombo is a fascinating story (check out his basketball odyssey), but he's raw like an Anthony Weiner twit pic. We'd guess that any significant time Biyombo spends on the court next season will be in the D-League. Kenneth Faried, is also a great story, as a naitve son of Newark and a small school star, but he's a classic 'tweener who won't be a starter in the league and likely won't be called to the stage until the second round. Neither Biyombo nor Faried has received an official invite from the league to attend the draft. With so many recent coaching changes among the teams that have high picks, it's possible one will take Markieff Morris, intending to select Marcus.

Forget trade winds swirling, we don't expect so much as a light breeze (beyond swapping draft picks), considering the collective bargaining agreement expires in one week and no one knows what will become of the salary cap. The lack of wheeling and dealing will contribute to this being a less-than-appealing draft. The "sleepers" this time around will be the viewers.

*Which is not even his worst performance committed to celluloid thanks to Steel
^ By that we mean "ruination"

Putting the 'Champ' in "Champagne"

The good: Mark Cuban splurged on a $90K bottle of bubbly to celebrate with players at a posh club in Miami, generously leaving a $20K tip, that he said was "worth every penny" and likely converting one waiter into a Mavs fan. Cuban had cash to burn after his self-imposed vow of silence reduced the fines routinely levied by the league against him for railing against the refs. Less whine, more wine. Maybe if he had become a monk, his team would've won a title sooner.*

The bad: In accordance with his wait and spree approach, Cuban wants to purchase jewelry to commemorate the championship other than the traditional rings and has suggested bracelets. A few questions arise. Will it be for the wrist or ankle? Is there an option to add a matching necklace and earrings? How many charms are the players allowed to get? Diamons are forever, but bad ideas can also last a lifetime.

The ugly: DeShawn Stevenson said he took extra pleasure in defeating the Heat, who he felt acted "very classless." These comments come from a man who, although he had a secretly successful series, publicly questioned LeBron's efforts in game 4^, engaged in a shoving match during game 6, has a five dollar bill inked across the front of his neck and another tat of a crack descending from his forehead, so on the subject of etiquette he's not exactly Emily Post. Stevenson, whose feud with LeBron dates back to when Soulja Boy -- the Rebecca Black of rapping -- was relevant, is ignoring the advice of the prudent President permanently printed on his person, Abraham Lincoln, who once reasoned, "Am I not destroying my enemies when I make friends with them?"

UPDATE: Stevenson was arrested in Irving, Texas Tuesday night for public intoxication. The summit of sophistication, sir.

*We're willing to (Ti)bet
^We give him credit for being ahead of the criticism curve

The Big Threes

Dallas won three in a row to claim the championship courtesy of it throng of three-point threats. DeShawn Stevenson and Jason Terry, fittingly made three apiece and the team tallied 11 to hold off the Heat and prevent a seventh game. For the Mavericks, three's not just company, it's the guest of honor, valued and distinguished. Considering the Mavs have two of the most successful shooters ever from long-range in Jason Kidd and Peja Stojakovic, there was a surprising source for the threes.

Stevenson's shooting from beyond the arc was beyond believable. He connected on 54% of his tries, hitting 13 in all. He only attempted one two-point field goal in the entire series, which he missed. Stevenson didn't just live at three-point line, he thrived. Kidd made 12 triples, while Stojakovic went 0-for and scored a whopping two points throughout the finals, relegated to watching from the bench in the last two games. Dallas didn't depend on the three, but it did some serious damage with them -- even "The Custodian" chipped in -- leaving Miami's Three Musketeers in tears.

Through three games, both Miami and Dallas were shooting the same percentage from long range, 38.3%. Up to that point, the Heat had actually made 5 more threes, but also attempted 13 additional ones. After that deadlock, Dallas was dominant, making 11 more threes than Miami in games four through six (28 to 17), while shooting just under 44%, compared to Miami's sub-30%. All these triples helped Dallas reach triple digits in games 5 and 6. The Mavs had threes fall, while the Heat went into a free-fall. Miami tried to counter by inserting three-point specialist Eddie House and starting Mario Chalmers in game six, but, despite the season being on the line, Chalmers was ineffective from behind the line (4-6 from outside in game 5, 2-7 in game 6).

What a long, strange trip it's been for the Mavericks. They couldn't have arrived at their desired destination without the triple. Dallas went the distance because they were much better than Miami from long distance.

Sick Move

On an evening when Dirk Nowitzki's shooting was cold by his stellar standards, he was still hot, due to a fever he awoke with, which caused his body temperature to climb to upwards of 102 degrees. Entering the game, it was the Mavs who were feeling the heat; under pressure and under the weather, Dirk delivered.

If his sallow skin, frequent bench breaks, and the towel draped on his head during timeouts weren't obvious indications of his illness, then his missing a free throw -- something he hadn't done so far in the series (and has done only 11 times throughout the course of the playoffs) -- illustrated that he wasn't well (he finished 9-10 from the line). Although he was ailing, he helped Dallas recover to tie (or should we say Tylenol?) the series.

As he did in game two, Nowitzki, burning up, burned the Heat for the Mavericks final field goal. Dirk, with Udonis Haslem hanging all over him, made a driving layup with 14.4 seconds left to put Dallas ahead by 3 points. He finished strong, not letting his fatigue force him into a fadeaway. He may have been queasy, but he made it look easy. While Nowitzki was coughing, the Heat coughed up another fourth quarter lead, an unhealthy pattern that requires immediate attention. Despite a drained Dirk occasionally looking like he might collapse, he didn't. The same can't be said of Miami.

Haywood You Play?

Game four at home for the Mavericks is a must-win and the key to victory could center on their big men. Dallas desperately needs Tyson Chandler to step up and backup Brendan Haywood to suit up, especially if their substitutes' shooting stays shaky. Yes, Haywood, who's averaging slightly over 3 points and 4 rebounds in the playoffs, is a side salad to a 16-oz. sirloin (it's better than being the sprig of parsley portrayed by Ian Mahinmi)*, but his presence was missed in game three. Haywood represents more than six fouls and relief for Chandler when he's winded. He can disrupt shots or at least deter James and Wade from making a beeline to the baseline as often as they have. If Haywood plays, which looks like it will be a game time decision, it allows Chandler to be more aggressive on defense, knowing a capable, veteran replacement is at the ready, should he get into foul trouble. Defense off the bench begins and ends with Haywood, since Carlisle has only allowed "the Custodian" to mop up for a minute, max (that's less time than the ball boys were seen sopping up a spilled drink on Sunday).

Chandler is limited on offense, but he must be more assertive than his 1-4 performance in game three; the Mavs can't afford for him to play Joel Anthony to a draw on offense (in 17 more minutes). The Mavs should try to get him involved early on by setting him up for some good looks from in close. Last time we checked, Jason Kidd still knew how to throw an alley-oop.

We'd advocate playing both bigs simultaneously for stretches and sliding Nowitzki to the three (or going with three guard, like Barea, Kidd and Stevenson, who's made 6-9 threes in the series, one more than Dirk). That size advantage, while slowing them down to be more susceptible to transition points, would free up space for their guards to slash to the basket and potentially help those shooters regain their confidence, and could prove stifling on defense (Miami couldn't counter this tactic, since Spoelstra isn't using Ilgauskas or Dampier, despite our earlier advice). Haywood has said he needs to be at 70 percent strength in order to play with his strained right hip flexor; if he isn't in uniform, Miami will be secretly shouting "hip, hip hooray!"

*That steak analogy is dedicated to the Dallas sports fans. And it was well-done.

A Sight for Sore Eyes

For once, it was appropriate when Chris Bosh let loose one of his primal, Howard Dean-like screams. That's because Bosh, who at times has appeared as unsure of himself and nervous as a Michael Cera character, came through at crunch time (although it helped that LeBron set him up superbly) with a big basket. Bosh, who was born in Dallas, hit what proved to be the game-winner in a two-point victory, narrowly nixing another fourth quarter Mavs rally, which shifted the series ever-so-slightly back in Miami's favor. This after a final five-plus minutes of a dazzling duel between Dirk and Dwayne (12 and 7 straight points, respectively) that we wished would never end (Nowitzki nearly sent it to overtime).

Bosh swelled with pride, as his eye swelled with irritation, having been struck early in the game. Bosh was 2-9 at halftime, but upgraded his shooting in the second half to 5-9, becoming Bosh.0. On his heroic hoop, Bosh was wide open, even if his eyelid wasn't*. It's ironic that his shooting was dead eye following the poke to his peepers, since he entered the game shooting as if his vision was impaired, with a field goal percentage of 26 (9-34), lending credence to the belief that the Heat were two and a half men, not a trio. His jumper was like an iceberg: cold and adrift. We'll have to see whether this was a true turning point for Bosh in the series or a case of blind luck. At least for one night, Bosh had the eye of the tiger.

*You could say he was eye-solated.

It's Nowitzki or Never

As the NBA Finals commence this evening, the Heat is on...for the Mavericks. The window of opportunity for aging and under-achieving Dallas was supposed to have been slammed shut, but those crafty veterans found a way to pry it back open and slink in, largely undetected -- unlike their opponent, who seemed giddy to skip the window altogether and instead kick the door down and intentionally trip the alarm system. The Mavericks blended into the background, while the Heat were the focal point of both fury and fawning, becoming a more prominent bullseye than the Target logo. When you run in an elite circle, some people are bound to paint a circle on your back. Most of the public will be pulling for the superstar who stayed in the same city that sought him out on draft day, not the one who left home for greener pastures -- or whiter beaches, if you will.

While LeBron was busy building castles in the sand, the sands of time were depleting for Dallas. Kidd, Marion, Terry, Stojakovic and Nowtizki are close to the end of the road*, but they picked up a drifter who knows defense along the way (Tyson Chandler), and Mark Cuban has decided to shut up and enjoy the ride.

Miami's nucleus is in its prime and should have many more chances to chase championships -- probably with even more robust rosters. Meanwhile, Dallas is so advanced in age that Marion's moniker, "The Matrix," is from a movie that was released a dozen years ago^. Wade knows what it takes to defeat Dallas, even down 0-2, as he did in the 2006 Finals, when having two superstars was enough to swing the series in the Heat's favor. They have the same amount now, plus an all-star. However, Wade looked worn down in the conference finals and we aren't sure Bosh, a big x factor, can be counted on in the clutch (there are reports he shrinks whenever he hears "Under Pressure" on the radio).

The Heat will win if they push the pace, halt their habit of running tons of isolation plays and don't double Dirk. It would help their cause to receive consistent contributions from Haslem and Miller, like they did against Chicago. Spoelstra should consider giving playing time to James Jones for his three-point shooting, Erick Dampier for the motivation he should have to show up his former team and Ilgauskas for his offense (since Joel Anthony doesn't provide any) to see if he can get Chandler into foul trouble.

The Mavericks will win if their streaky shooters can stay hot, while also remembering to remain aggressive and keep the defense on its toes by driving to the basket. This applies to Dirk as well, who must continue to take the ball down low and create contact, even when facing physical play from LeBron. Dallas must gang up on Wade and James, sending the pesky Barrea and Kidd to take swipes at the ball, and force Miami's role players to beat them. And don't discount Terry's desire to keep his trophy tattoo -- the pain of falling in the finals again will be second only to the pain of having his ink removed.

Don't be surprised if this "Hollywood as hell" team -- star-studded, expensive and heavily promoted -- experiences the success of a summer blockbuster, where LeBron winds up carrying a championship on the Stranger Tides of South Beach#.

*We've watched them grow from Boyz II (Old) Men
^ Admit it, you reacted with a Keanu-like "Whoa" at that realization
# Like Thor, we hammered home that metaphor

Kahn Job

Following the draft lottery, T-Wolves GM David Kahn (in this case, the GM is an acronym for general moron) is crying conspiracy. Dan Gilbert had his 14-year-old son, who suffers from a nervous disorder, represent the Cavs at the podium. And why not? He's a better face of the franchise than any of the vagabond players, and after his comic sans outburst, Gilbert has more common sense than to put himself out front. No one will boo a boy, but Kahn saw fit to blame one. That's harsher than a Minnesota winter.

Kahn floated the idea that the NBA powers that be made the ping pong balls bounce the sick kid's way to set up a storybook ending for the sympathetic, stricken figure. That theory is ill-conceived. He's just upset because he wanted the number one pick so he could draft yet another point guard. Kahn's well on his way to ruining a team like he was the valedictorian at the Isiah Thomas School of Management. The system isn't rigged. In fact, it's structured in such a way that a team can't tank the season and be assured the highest pick. At most, it's just a bit of bad luck (and really not even, when you factor in that the Cavs had a higher statistical chance of drafting first since they possessed two picks) Kahn's already plenty lucky to still have his job, considering the team has won a total of 32 games during his tenure and his dubious decision to sign/overpay Darko Milicic as a free agent, a player who wanted to leave the league.

The line of the night, "What's not to like?*," was charmingly uttered by Gilbert's son after being asked to describe himself by a reporter. It was intended to be rhetorical, but Kahn chose to reply and came off as jealous and petty. Kahn attacked the league's integrity, but in doing so, revealed to have none of his own. Next time, leave the howling to actual wolves.

Post-script: Kahn has since backed down from his comments, claiming he was kidding. As a joke, it was received like a Leno one -- no one's laughing.

*If this turns out to be a conspiracy, look for that phrase to become the NBA's slogan next season. And watch for Nick Gilbert to land an internship with Ernst & Young.

(Ger)Man on a Mission

This postseason, Dallas has been dominant due to the downright reDirkculous performance of its often overlooked superstar. Nowitzki knows his legacy is on the line and he's playing like a person possessed. He discussed his determination on the eve of the playoffs, saying a month ago, "We're playing for a championship. That's really the only goal. If we don't win a championship, it's another disappointing season." After absolutely demolishing the two-time defending champs, who managed to be worse to watch than Lamar Odom's reality show, a title is a distinct possibility for the first time since 2006. And this Mavs team is much better than the one Nowitzki last led to the Finals.

Naturally, next to nobody thought that was true heading into the playoffs, when Portland was the popular pick to upset Dallas. A first-round flame-out, not a foray to the Finals, was more likely, given the Mavs' recent history. Pushing past pesky Portland, still the lower seed, wasn't going to convince the critics, so Dallas had much to prove against L.A. Theoretically, the Lakers length and frontcourt size should've given Dallas problems, even though the Mavs finally had a legitimate center, Tyson Chandler, patrolling the paint. The thinking was that, even though the squads had never met in the playoffs, Kobe and Dirk could cancel each other out, but Bynum and Gasol would be the difference. Instead, the Dallas bench, which didn't boast the Sixth Man of the Year, had a three-for-all, that is when they weren't slicing through the lane at will. The bench was nothing short of Terry-ific, bolstered by Barea, a guard who wasn't going to be in their rotation (Beaubois, who's been demoted to "inactive", has given them bupkis). The J's -- both Jasons (Terry and Kidd) and J.J. -- hit their jays. Whether a finance fiasco was at the heart of it or not, the Lakers chemistry turned out to be combustible. The Lakers quit before Phil Jackson did. For once, it was the Mavs' opponent being openly questioned as soft and displaying a disinterest in defense, not them. Oddly, the Lakers looked worn down and distracted, while the Mavs -- who also have several key players in their 30's -- appeared fresh and focused. Their reward for the sweep was 11 days of rest.

Would that much time off while Dallas was on a roll make them rusty? Dirk answered that question last night with a demonstrative "No" by scoring 48 points, missing only three field goals in the process, while going a perfect 24-for-24 from the free throw line to establish a new NBA playoff record. Perhaps the most amazing part of the extraordinary effort was that he didn't force a single shot, which is more than can be said of several stars during these playoffs (see: Derrick Rose and Russell Westbrook). Nowitzki smartly passed when he was doubled. He was aggressive when the situation called for it and drove to the basket instead of depending only on fadeaways.

Heads were both shaken and scratched last week when coach Rick Carlisle declared Dirk a top ten player in league history. Some see that statement as dubious, but Dirk belongs in the discussion. His stroke is sweeter than black forest cake. His touch is more magical than E.T.'s. He's the best tall, blonde, long-legged German to grace the states since Heidi Klum. His Deutsche bank shot is money. A championship would initiate that conversation in more circles. No one is more aware of that than Dirk, whose scoring has spiked, up 5.5 points from his regular season average. His game has always been distinct, now his desire is, too. We've doubted him and dismissed Dallas for the last time.

Bear Witness to the Grizzlies

As a self-described "mama grizzly," Sarah Palin should be proud of how Memphis has mostly man-handled -- make that Manu-handled -- San Antonio, the team which held the best record for almost the entire regular season. Tim Duncan turned 35 during game 4 of the series and he looked like he was ready to swap basketball for shuffleboard and sneakers for slippers. The blowout that occurred was not of candles, but the Spurs. Duncan posted a paltry 6 points and 7 rebounds. He took only seven shots and had zero trips to the free throw line. He was passive to the point of being comatose. To put it in perspective, Tiago Splitter had more field goal attempts. That thought alone gives us a splitting headache. The only roster looking older than the Spurs right now is 60 Minutes. Here are more of our observations from the first round:

DeJuan Blair estimates he's lost 15-20 pounds by giving up Whataburgers and strawberry Fanta. Not to be a soda jerk, but at least in this series, the reduced fat has corresponded with reduced minutes, culminating in a DNP in last night's elimination game. The NBA: It's Fanta-tastic!

Maybe the Knicks should've played on a Broadway stage for the post-season, because, due to injuries, they were a one-man show. And we mean a lousy, Colin Quinn Long Story Short, one.

The Celtics slapped the Knicks around worse than LeBron's mom does valets.

It's a shame Pau Gasol's legs aren't made of wood because then it would be much easier for Kobe to light a fire under him.

The only person bringing the Thunder harder than Kevin Durant in OKC is Thor.

The Lakers have to be a-Paul-led by how CP3 has dominated the defending champs. Even Kobe can't contain him. The only people who look more ridiculous while guarding protect the Queen. Maybe Derek Fisher should put on a fuzzy hat. Or the Lakers should've welcomed recent chicken pox sufferer Steve Blake back sooner, while he was still infectious. We doubt Phil Jackson is above biological warfare tactics.

There's no disputing that Paul has vastly out-performed his PG peer, Derrick Rose, whose mere mention brings Michael Wilbon to an orgasm. The phenomenal passing is what separates the two. Not only is Paul more adept at it, but he's also far more inclined to do it, seeking to set up teammates first, and score second. Paul's been dropping dimes like a clumsy coin collector.

The only way to have a hotter hand than Jamal Crawford is to be a glove-less fireman. We demand a re-vote on the 6th Man award and possibly one on the Citizenship award, which went to Ron Artest, who Jason Kidd might say has done "a complete 360" in turning around his public image. Still, with two of the four announced awardsThat's a lot of Lakers bias at the ballot box. Something stinks with Lamar Odom and we don't just mean his unisex fragrance.

Dwight Howard exploded for career-tying 45 in game one and his team lost by 10. Then, he scored 8 and Orlando won by 25. It's pointless to try and figure out what this means, but maybe things are being thrown off by the team's facial hair pact, which is probably angering the sports gods, as it's only supposed to apply to hockey.

Howard is deserving of earning the Defensive POY award for the third straight season, but the fact that Tyson Chandler convinced the Mavs to try this wacky experiment with playing defense, made him a worthy runner-up. That's like persuading the cast of Jersey Shore to abstain from alcohol or at least keep their shirts on for 15 minutes.

In ads promoting exercise, First Lady Michelle Obama is encouraging kids to "play basketball for one hour a day." We'd like to point out that's 12 more minutes than an NBA game lasts (make sure Zach Randolph receives that message) and most players complain about back-to-back games.

Passport and Shoot

Any schulub can select an All-NBA squad, so we compiled some quirkier quintets worthy of recognition.
Globall Team
PG - Tony Parker
SG - Manu Ginobli
SF - Luol Deng
PF - Dirk Nowitzki
C - Pau Gasol
Honorable Mention: Marcin Gortat, Luis Scola
Dishonorable "Darko Milicic" Mention: Hedo Turkoglu, Carlos Arroyo
Parker and Ginobli propelled the supposedly geriatric Spurs to the top of the West and pushed the pace to make this the highest-scoring San Antonio group Greg Popovich has ever coached (103.7 ppg). It wasn't just the PG who Rose to the occasion with Boozer and Noah sidelined, as Deng played in all 82 games for the first time since 06-07 and only the second time in his career, contributing to the Bulls achieving the best record in the league. Unlike Rose's year with Memphis, this one probably won't be invalidated.

Age Ain't Nothin' But a Number Team
PG - Steve Nash
SG - Ray Allen
SF - Grant Hill
C - Kurt Thomas
Honorable Mention: Andre Miller, Jason Kidd
Dishonorable Mention: Ben Wallace, Shaq
Allen eclipsed Reggie Miller in threes made, while Nash directed a discombobulated team and declined to demand being dealt to a contender, demonstrating classic Canadian manners. Hill proved again that he's not over the, you know, incline. Wallace, like his 'fro, is a relic. If we gave Shaq a 90's rapper name, it would be "Ice Pack."

Backstabbers and Blowhards Team
PG - Deron Williams
SG - Sasha Vujacic
SF - Carmelo Anthony
PF - LeBron James
C - Zydrunas Ilgauskas
Deron threw metaphorical stones at the venerable Jerry Sloan, which took some figurative stones to do. LeBron and Z ditched Cleveland and slung balls at opponents as if they were back in grade school gym class. Anthony congratulated himself for handling the distraction that he initiated. Now that cap he tipped won't fit on his swollen head. He has heard the sound of one hand clapping -- it was his own (his other hand was busy patting him on the back). Vujacic praised his unselfishness and concluded that not scoring points is the best way to help his team win. He can score 30 anytime he wants? Maybe Maria Sharapova's fiancee was thinking of tennis.

Jump for Joy Team
PG - Russell Westbrook
SG - J.R. Smith
SF - LeBron James
PF - Blake Griffin
C - JaVale McGee
Honorable Mention: DeAndre Jordan
Dishonorable Mention: DeJuan Blair
Blake Griffin's leaping is already near mythical. He just might be a griffin because he's built like a lion and soars like an eagle. Smith's elevation in Denver is second only to the Rockies. Post-dunk contest, McGee raised his game. Call him a soar loser.

Mighty Whiteys Team
PG - Luke Ridnour
SG - Kyle Korver
SF - Tyler Hansbrough
PF - David Lee
C - Kevin Love
Honorable Mention: Gordon Hayward, Ryan Anderson
Like the tattoo-less player, the American-born, completely Caucasian hoopster is a species nearing extinction in The Association. Consequently, the list of candidates to choose from is thinner than Brian Cardinal's hair. They may pale in comparison to peers at their position, but even the pasty deserve their day in the sun (just don't stay out too long guys, you'll burn).

It Could Be Verse

Back in his college days, J.J. Redick composed some poems, proving his passion for perimeter lines and pentameter ones. Now that he's sidelined with an injury, he's got some time on his hands (just because he's in the pros doesn't mean he only writes prose). In a exclusive, we have his latest work, The Ballad of the Bench-Warmer.

I sit in a suit and watch from the pine
As my coach continues to whine and whine
There's no ref or call he won't bash
He's uptight for a man with a porn moustache
Stan Van and his star are emotional wrecks
It's no wonder Dwight has 17 techs.

I make plans to party 'til dawn*
With fellow Dukie Chris Duhon
I see Ryan Andersen shoot a three
And oh, how I wish that was me
He reminds me I dearly miss my vocation
As the only other white guy in the rotation.

I've said it before, but it bears repeating
It's not what's eating Gilbert, but what's Gilbert eating?
Never again will he be a starter
His effort is low, recalling Vince Carter
Turkoglu throws another errant pass
That had no chance of reaching Brandon Bass.

Depleted roster leads to another loss
Our bench is thinner than Kate Moss
Just think, I used to be another Duke a-hole
But now I fulfill a critical role
A small victory I've surely won
Just by out-lasting Adam Morrison.

*Ok, I lied -- we're going to Cinnabon

No Pain, No Gaines

Three days after signing his first multi-year deal in the NBA, journeyman and former face of the 10-day contract Sundiata "Sunny D" Gaines hurt his hip in a game and will miss the remainder of the season. However, that time would have been spent toiling for the Nets, so the injury could be considered a lucky break.

A more impactful injury is David West's torn ACL, which ends his season, as New Orleans tries to hold on to a playoff spot. Without West, the team's leading scorer, the Hornets seem to be headed in a different direction: south.

The Heat's holy trinity all scored 30 points apiece Sunday night in a win. Ever the egomaniacs, they're demanding ESPN make a 30-for-30 documentary about their performance. They want it to be narrated by Charlie Sheen and called, Tri-Winning.

Grant Hill, in response to disparaging comments made by Jalen Rose about their college rivalry 20 years ago, wrote an op-ed piece for the New York Times. There's no truth that he used another outdated medium to respond, taking to the telegraph to transmit his thoughts or that, following Rose's remarks, Hill's pager "blew up."

A Harvard group has calculated the complete the box score from Space Jam. Next up: determining the source of the magical properties of the sneakers in Like Mike and solving how Marlon Wayans was able to see and interact with his dead friend in The 6th Man.

Stan Van Gundy compared David Stern to a dictator. Countering, Stern threatened to fire the Houston Rockets at him. Taken aback, Moammar Gadhafi pointed out that he never instituted a dress code to his people.

Several super slammers, such as Shawn Kemp and Dwight Howard, have said they were unimpressed by Blake Griffin's dunk over the hood of a Kia. to silence his critics, Griffin has vowed to jump over an Ikea. Basketball in one hand, Allen wrench in the other.

Sadly, the new Broadway play The Book of Mormon isn't about Shawn Bradley. Nor is the revival of How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying about James Dolan.

Anaheim is making an active bid for the Sacramento Kings to move to their city, where they plan to rename the team "The Mighty Dunks."

On Friday, Chris Andersen shot a perfect 7-for-7 from the field and scored 17 points in just 21 minutes. The Birdman was a little peacocky about it and started to crow.

The Nuggets are 12-4 since sending Carmelo to what he thought would be the Madison Square Garden of Eden (looks like he's taken a bite from the Big Apple), meaning the road has been anything but rocky in Denver. One Nugget believes the superstar-less squad's success is due to unselfish play. "You can be a dominant player who has dominant games and dominant moments without dominating the entire gym." That's Affalo's creed. Clearly, he's got the eye of the tiger.

A poisonous 20-inch cobra went missing from the Bronx Zoo Saturday. We think Kobe might have taken this "black mamba" thing too far. We hope he doesn't take the reptile on the road because we've seen what happens when there are snakes on a plane and frankly, our eardrums can't take more of Samuel L. Jackson's shouting.

Kevin Love Leads a Double-Double Life

Holy, Moses Malone. We have finally arrived at the answer to the highly danceable query Haddaway posed in the earlier 90's (that the Butabi brothers could never solve), "What is Love?" Kevin Love is a double-double machine. On Wednesday night, Love surpassed Malone's record, tallying his 52nd consecutive double-double in ferocious fashion with 21 rebounds, all while hobbling on a swollen left knee that limited him to 27 minutes, in a rare victory for his team (you could say he was working double time. As incredible as Love has been, he's far from the only great thing associated with the word "double." Our list will make you do a double-take.

Double Dribble: The rosters had no real players and there were no designed plays or semblance of structure, so comparisons to the Minnesota franchise abound. Still, let's hope the league doesn't contract to four teams and re-name one of them the "Frogs".

KFC's Double Down: This bread-less sandwich contains more chicken than the Wolves have PGs (the quality of both yet to be determined), the difference being a plethora of poultry is always a plus. It will fill you with a sense of unease, like Michael Beasley. If this can't convince Ricky Rubio to come to America, nothing can.

Double Dare: Kurt Rambis should be slimed for starting Love in only 22 games last season.

Double Rainbow Guy: There's a natural beauty to Love's simple style, although we don't think seeing him in action has made anyone openly weep with joy, outside of Bill Walton.

Double Impact^: What's better than uno Van Damme? Dos. Minnesota can only hope Love has a long-lost twin. Better start scouting Hong Kong orphanages.

Double Dragon: Love can relate to this video game, where you often get ganged up on making winning nearly impossible. Like the NES version, Love must make do with minimal jumping. The T-Wolves are similar to the Double Dragon film adaptation -- watched by a mere handful, deemed awful and soon to be completely forgotten.

The Doublemint Twins: Should be waiting for Love on his hotel's double bed, ready to go on a double date (minus the second dude). The duo know how to blow more than bubbles~.

*TCU knows that frogs aren't fierce unless you give them something sharp, such as a horn or a switchblade.
^For a double feature, we suggest also viewing Double Team, which pairs Van Damme with the rowdiest rebounder ever, Dennis Rodman.
~How's that for double entendre?

London Balling

Blokes across the pond are fond of football (the feet-only kind*) and double-decker buses, but we're not sure how they feel about basketball and a double dose of two terrible teams, the Nets and Raptors (34 wins combined before Friday), which initially appeared as appealing as stale scones or a beardless Russell Brand. What at first glance seemed to be bollocks unexpectedly turned into dog's bollocks^, because on Saturday, the lords and ladies in attendance were treated to a triple overtime thriller. More buzzers sounded than in a Jeopardy game. Scores were higher than when Cambridge students take standardized tests (the lowest point total was 103). Less defense was played than during the All-Star Game, despite only one all-star participating. A tip of the driver's cap/hoist of the pint glass to Deron Williams, who insisted on making the trip, despite wrist and hand injuries, displaying a Jason Statham-level of toughness and passing so deftly (29 assists total) that Man U wants to sign him to shore up the midfield.

Nets coach Avery Johnson, after his squad (chimney) swept the series, gave credit to the Raptors and perhaps astutely addressed the cultural difference in athletics when he noted, "Unfortunately, these games don't end in a tie." That might've been the only way they disappointed the Brits, who don't understand that to Americans, sports is all about winning~.

David Stern must be chuffed. All in all, a pair of otherwise forgettable teams provided at least an entertaining exhibition, if not memorable matchup, and put on a jolly good show. Only time will tell if this helped London bridge the basketball gap between the nations.

* Maybe Rex Ryan would enjoy that version more.
^Byron, Keats and Wordsworth would be proud of what the English language has become.
~Maybe we could send Charlie Sheen over to impart some lessons on "winning."

Pist Off

For once, someone other than Eminem is furious in Detroit. On Friday, four Pistons players skipped the team's shootaround and two more arrived late, supposedly in protest of coach John Kuester. Detroit made no moves before Thursday's trade deadline, even though two of the players who were absent -- Rip Hamilton and Tayshaun Prince -- were expected to be dealt. As a result, Kuester dressed only six players for Friday's game, leaving him with less viable subs than a Jimmy John's. The squad became even further short-handed when Kuester was ejected from the game. A few of the punished players, such as Tracy McGrady and Ben Wallace were seen laughing so hard on the bench after Kuester was tossed, you'd think they were watch an episode of Chappelle's Show on T-Mac's ipad. Hamilton has barely seen action in 2011 and seems so frustrated that we wouldn't be surprised if he's the next Detroit athlete we see swigging scotch straight from the bottle.

Following this mutiny in the Motor City, the time has come for Kuester's ouster. When half of the team has tuned you out, including all of the members of the 2004 championship squad, who also happen to be well-respected veterans, you're being ignored like a Katherine Heigel movie and rightfully so. In his first year as coach, the Pistons failed to reach the playoffs for the first time in nine seasons and they're on pace to miss the postseason again. The Pistons allege they are rebuilding, which is a theme for the city as a whole, but they really haven't started the process. A step in the right direction would've been to complete some transactions during the season, parting ways with the vets for prospects or draft picks, but they instead stood pat. That's not the coach's fault, but he's alienating people at a pace only Charlie Sheen can top at the moment.

Here's our nod to one of the lamer Super Bowl commercials: Dissatisfaction: Imported from Detroit. Even when the Pistons were contending for championships, they were never a luxury car, but now they're clearly a clunker. Kuester, a newbie as a head coach, is one reason. At least the city's residents can look forward to that RoboCop statue.

A Lucky Blake

The NBA now stands for the National Blake Association. Clippers rookie and routine rim rougher-upper Blake Griffin was named as a reserve for the All-Star team, so he will now be featured in three of the festivities five events: the slam dunk contest, the rookie-sophomore game and the All-Star game. The contestants for the three-point contest haven't been announced yet, so he could be in that, too. Why not include him in the Taco Bell skills challenge so he can have the whole enchilada, figuratively and literally.

Just like Taco Bell, my beef with Griffin is mostly fake. He produces at least one highlight per night. He attacks the rack like a young Shaq.* He's well on his way to being as popular among males age 18-35 as Peter Griffin. He's indisputably the best rookie and an electrifying player who fans want to see throw down in an exhibition where slams, not shots, are the norm. But Griffin already gets that chance twice over the weekend, is three times really the charm? And will he have anything left in his bag of tricks to wow the crowd with by Sunday?

Griffin's inclusion means a few worthy players were left to eat a cold snub sandwich, notably: Monta Ellis, Tony Parker and Steve Nash. Ellis is sixth in the league in scoring. The only other player in the top ten in points per game not selected to the squad is Griffin's teammate, Eric Gordon. If you hold the Warriors and Suns records against Ellis and Nash, then you must also do so for Griffin (the Clippers have fewer wins than both those teams and less than half the amount of the Spurs) along with injury replacement and double-double dynamo Kevin Love^. Leading the league in rebounds is grounds for making the All-NBA team at the end of the year, not necessarily the All-Star team. Watching Love box out isn't exactly entertaining. As for Nash, how do you omit a man who drops more dimes than a clumsy coin collector? All-Star games are all about the alley-oop, but there can be no oop without the alley created by an on-point pass. Not to mention that Nash's numbers are on par with those of his career and he's doing it minus Amar'e (16.7 ppg and 11 apg, compared to 16.5 ppg and 11 apg last season).

Boston bias reared its ugly head with four Celtics picked. We're talking Marquis Daniels-level ugly. We don't want to hear the weak argument that Boston has the best record in the East, therefore they've earned as many participants as there are leaves on a shamrock. Raymond Felton and Andrew Bogut should file police reports with David Stern because they were robbed. There were zero first-time selections in the East. The Spurs hold the best record overall, yet have only two representatives. Even in the loaded West, logic dictates the 42-8 club be rewarded. San Antonio should have (Ala)mo players. Put Parker on in place of Griffin and swap Russell Westbrook for Nash, who could be in the twilight of his career.

Let the rookie sit in the stands and watch a winner -- of three championships, plus a Finals MVP -- Parker, take the court. At least for this year. The experience will only Blake him stronger.

*And we rap like a young Shaq. We look forward to collaborating with Fu-Schnickens.
^Yao Ming making the initial cut is proof that a nation of a billion people can be wrong and even more blindly patriotic than America. Are the Chinese even Taipeing attention? How did he amass that many votes? Does the government hand out All-Star ballots?

Pricking Rose

There's one Bull that causes us to see red. That would be, Derrick Rose, who in our bloodshot eyes is the NBA's most overrated player. Rose managed to take the title away from Brandon Roy, adding insult to injury for the Portland player, but at least the award has passed from one point guard to another. It's quite an honor, though not the accolade many in the media are bestowing upon you, mentioning you in the MVP discussion at mid-season, which is preposterous.

Rose isn't even a top-five player at his position. He just receives more press than his superior peers by virtue of being in the third-largest market in the country. The adidas ad campaign has worked wonders (who wouldn't want a lady pyramid?). Rose has pulled a "fast" one on media members, who are easily convinced that they need to pick a new PG to praise endlessly each year. Previously, it's been Roy, Deron Williams, and Chris Paul that hoops journalists have fallen for, but the collective crush on Rose is entering stalker territory. Paul and Williams are better defenders and passers. Tony Parker is better at driving the lane. Rajon Rondo and Jason Kidd are better rebounders. Chauncey Billups is smarter. Raymond Felton is having a better season. John Wall has more raw talent and is more selfless. Russell Westbrook has a higher ceiling. Rose barely cracks the top ten. He's far from number one at the one.

Last week, Rose revealed he has two ulcers. What makes our stomachs turn is when we hear media figures declare him the front-runner for MVP. He's not even the player at his position who is the most responsible for his team's success (that would be Tony Parker). Nobody wants to laud LeBron anymore -- partially due to "The Decision" and partially because he's earned the MVP in each of the past two seasons -- but he should be in the lead again, with the duo of dominant big men, Howard and Stoudemire, trailing closely. Or maybe basketball writers have forgotten about LeBron because he hasn't had a new sneaker commercial lately. The point being, those most bullish on Rose are mostly full of bull (see: Wilbon, Michael and Reilly, Rick).

If what Brett Michaels sang is true, that "every rose has its thorn," (and we generally take men in bandannas at their word) then we are the thorn in Derrick Rose's side. Perhaps we're what's actually causing him stomach pains. At any rate, we're definitely not seeing the MVP race through Rose-colored glasses.