Apparently, once you honor Pop, you can't stop. On Tuesday, Gregg Popovich was named Coach of the Year for the third time in his career. He was the obvious and safe choice for the award, but we're unsure he was most worthy, after admitting that occasionally during timeouts he tells his team to figure it out themselves (is that laissez-faire or just lazy?). Here are a trio of candidates whose names should've popped up:
Jeff Hornacek, Phoenix. Evidently, he still has his shooter's touch. Under his guidance, they rose from the ashes, like some sort of mythical bird. A griffin? No, that's not the one. It'll come to us.
Steve Clifford, Charlotte. We had to consult a media guide to learn who was at the helm, but he must have had veterinary training, since he nursed these cats back to health* with a winning record and playoff berth. Even MJ wouldn't have wagered on that happening.
Tom Thibodeau, Chicago. Dang, D.Rose was dinged (deja vu) and Deng was ditched, yet Thibs was like a top-of-the-line juicer, squeezing out wins from the rinds left behind. He's who you want when things don't go smoothie, er, smoothly.
Not receiving any votes whatsoever: Brett Brown, Philadelphia. Naturally, he stood no chance of winning, which is the way 76ers management would want it. Even if there was a trophy for trying not to tank when told to, he'd still finish behind our other three nominees. It fits with the Philly philosophy: "You lose some, you lose some more^."
*and we hear he's healed a colossal, carmine canine whose name escapes us
^also: "a lot o' losses leads to lotto gains"
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