What You Missed at Home: Live @ Game 2 in Memphis

Saturday, April 27, 2012; ~2pm - I'm settling into what, for me, is an ideal day: plenty of kush, plenty of good food, two screens of poker tournaments, and (more importantly) a third one showcasing the first day of something I've spent months expecting to miss, and a few beyond that waiting for: The NBA Playoffs.

While I couldn't possibly ask for more without feeling a bit greedy, my good friend (and fellow basketball junkie) Alex Livingston and I were about to sweeten the pot by talking ourselves into going to a playoff game. We struck up a conversation, mused about which series would be the most compelling, and not an hour later, we were booked for an adventure down to Memphis for Game 2. My first live playoff game: Dream about it for 20 years; make it a reality in 20 minutes. Why not?

Now, being the financially irresponsible NBA addict that I am, I thought it was perfectly normal and reasonable to travel 2400 miles on a complete impulse to watch a single playoff game, but judging from the number of crooked looks I got from people inquiring why I was in town, apparently I'm wrong. Oh well.

Rather than base our trip out of Tennessee, we thought it would be neat to check out nearby Tunica, Mississippi: Just a half hour outside of Memphis, it was Vegas on the Bayou, allegedly boasting some of the best conditions for us avid poker players; a fun atmosphere, very soft games and generous gratuities. Then we actually arrived, found out that Tunica's about as fun as a lobotomy, and the geographic visual equivalent of drying paint. I was unimpressed by the game selection, underwhelmed by a five-star steakhouse for the first time in my life, and, in the climax, spent two hours wandering on the side of the highway under scorching sun (you should see my sexy beater tan) in an effort to find a drug store and replace the moisturizer and shaving cream that TSA stole from me. "Why didn't you call a cab?" you might ask? Oh, because for some reason, in a senior-filled tourist trap where nothing except the next casino/hotel is within walking distance, there are no cabs. Not one. Incredible. This would have been problematic for our planned night of drinking, only there were no bars either. Within 20 hours of arriving, we called an audible, booked a new hotel in Memphis, and arranged to fly out two days earlier rather than prolong our misery. Basically, if you're ever planning on going to Tunica, don't.

We arrived in Memphis a few hours before tipoff, got settled in our new digs, and went to explore the vibrant downtown district. For the uneducated, Memphis boasts itself as the home of Blues music, and represents very well. Beale St; the one directly outside of FedEx Forum; is a southern-themed George St; complete with  awesome BBQ, a litany of live music, and people openly drinking copious amounts of beer in the street, not to mention the bars that line both sides of it. Well, when in Rome... After some pulled pork at B.B. King's, some body shots at Coyote Ugly (ya, that Coyote Ugly), and enough beer to give the Duff Man a rough morning, we rolled over to the game. (Might be worth noting at this point that between our booking and arrival, Memphis had suffered the worst 4th quarter collapse in NBA playoff history; so people were drunkenly carrying around a very volatile combination of anxiety and ambition that made us both fear for our lives if the Grizz were to lose again).

By the time we got to our seats, I was buzzing fairly hard, and things hadn't even gotten that aggressive yet. So I stole a move from Grantland's Rembert Browne, and jotted down notes on my phone to recall the evening's memorable moments, when my memory for specific details was sure to be at its worst:

"WhiteOut!!!": We rolled into the arena an hour before tipoff (I wasn't about to half-ass this), and were immediately blinded by the white and yellow combo of "Believe" t-shirts and towels draped over every one of the arena's 18, 119 seats (man, would that job SUCK). It looked pretty cool, but the effect was only amplified as those seats were gradually filled with bellowing fans (and every last one of them was, or at least so says nba.com), wearing the shirts with pride and waving the towels like they were crazed football fans in Pïttsburgh. You see it on TV all the time, but to the naked eye, it's much more profound. Those who chose not to adorn the tees were exposed on the jumbotron, offered shirts by arena staff, and loudly chastised by the crowd until they put one on. #Awesome (peep the photo above)

"Dave": After about half an hour, our section started to fill out; we were joined in the seats on our left by Dave; a pretty cool guy (even after conversing with us at length and not introducing us to his probably-too-hot-for-him girlfriend), who despite his admitted lack of in-depth knowledge, was as enthusiastic a couch-mate as you could ask for. To our right was another couple, one who didn't speak to us all game after Alex offered the (snobby) girl a sincere apology for accidentally snaring her towel. In front of us was a family of four, who were clearly dragged there by the father, an evident hoop-head. More on that in a second...

"beat LA! beat LA!": The pregame was an absolute perfect storm of NBA enthusiasm: a bunch of overly-intoxicated fans losing it for an upstart team that had left them yearning for years, suddenly gotten very good, and more recently, suffered a historic collapse that left them bloodthirsty for revenge. "Beat LA!! Beat LA!!" rang out so loud you couldn't hear yourself think as fans rendered their seats obsolete (if you were "sitting" in the lower bowl, at any given point during most the game, you were likely watching the guy in front of you wave a towel) and erased any regret I might've had about passing up the OKC fans in their favor.

"CP3 isn't human": Seeing Chris Paul play live has been on my Bucket List for several years now, and he still managed to insult my expectations - in a very good way. Watching this relative midget dominate the biggest athletes in the World with more precision and poise than I can put into words is one of those things you just have to see for real; TV just doesn't do it justice. He's no taller than six feet (I've stood right behind him in line at McDonalds and can tell you this very confidently), and yet so far above everyone else.

"Vinnys clueless": Paul's brilliance is starkly contrasted by his coach; watching Vinny Del Negro in person is almost as fascinating, because you get to see all the things that go on off-camera: his puzzled expressions, his overly-animated gestures at awkward moments, his players completely ignoring him. He was the recurring comic relief throughout the game.

"Rudy Gay bad pass reaction": Early in the first quarter, Rudy Gay is streaking along the left wing on the break, anticipating a pass that Mike Conley sends several feet in front of him and clean into the first row. Gay freezes dead in his tracks, holding the triple-threat position for several seconds, while looking over at Conley in disbelief.

"Sager Sighting!!", "Jerry the King": As I know TNT is broadcasting, I've spent a good amount of time playing a slightly easier game of Where's Waldo; trying to find a man wearing the ugliest suit in America amid a sea of white shirts. I spot him chasing down Vinny D for the standard "end-of-first-visiting-coach" interview (rocking something that Brick Tamland would've put together on an off day), and for just a few seconds, wish I was at home, so I could hear this meeting of minds. Of course, as I'm thinking this, the jumbotron zooms in on a conveniently-placed Clippers fan courtside. He's acting very boisterous and drawing the ire of the crowd, when, out of nowhere, appears Memphis native and wrestling legend Jerry "The King" Lawler - rocking a crown and custom "King" Grizzlies jersey - who confronts the fan WWF-style, before locking him in a tombstone piledriver - sending the crowd into complete pandemonium - and putting him down for the count. Standing O. Never mind, I'm glad I'm here.

"Dad n son in front of us": By the second quarter, I've noticed my view of the game has been slightly less obstructed than most in this standing-room-only arena. This is because in front of me is the younger son of the family of four. He's the only one not enjoying himself; in his seat, his entire body from the eyes down stuffed into his 'Believe' tee, watching the game on the jumbotron, clearly caring about as much as he must've in math class earlier that day. The father, to his right, looks down upon him and scorns "...You're watching this on the big screen??", shooting him a look that's half "I paid $230 for these tickets" and half "Who the fuck is this kid that clearly got swapped for mine at the hospital?". I can only hope my children don't turn out that way.

"Gasol passing", "Blake shot selection", "Tony Allen jumper": One of the better parts of watching a game live is letting it speak for itself; you get to focus on it rather than be distracted by shifting cameras, dumb announcers, and all the other shit going on. Some things that I found don't get talked about enough on TV: For all the praise his brother gets, Marc Gasol is a really, really good passer. Not only that, he's extremely versatile; delivering an array of bounce, chest, and outlet passes, out of double teams on the low block, from the elbow, and in transition. So many hockey assists. He out Vlades Vlade.

Blake Griffin's shot selection is, well, interesting. I still can't wrap my head around it because it seems like so many of his attempts are careless forces, but he also holds an ability to control and contort his body midair beyond that of anyone his size, and he hits a decent amount of them. But still, sometimes you're just left shaking your head like "Chris didn't want the possession to end that way" or "If their coach wasn't completely useless he'd instill some discipline and find a way to combine that aggressive athleticism with the best point guard alive and get him better looks".

Tony Allen....Well, as someone on Twitter so kindly put it once; "At 3am, in a dimly lit bar, Tony Allen's jumper would still leave alone". Why Lionel Hollins hasn't tried shock therapy or something at this point is beyond me.

"Horrible reffing & fans not booing jumbotron": Kenny Mauer; I describe him pre-game to Alex as "tech-happy and not the best". By the second quarter, he's already blatantly fucked up three calls - right in front of him and us - unleashing a flood of boos from FedEx Forum's faithful as his mistakes are replayed on the 'tron. I'd normally take this with a grain of salt, but also on no fewer than three occasions so far, the big screen's replayed close calls that went to the Clippers, and not a peep from anyone. Maybe they're not that drunk yet. The next morning, I tried to compliment Mr. Mauer when I was behind him in line at the airport newsstand, only to discover that it wasn't actually him, and awkwardly walk away (right, like anyone else who's not European and in their 50s wears their hair like that).

"Ibaka, Jordan": I've spent far too long making faulty comparisons between Serge Ibaka and DeAndre Jordan offensively. I can't lie to myself anymore. After watching Ibaka absolutely devour Dallas on an impressive array of double-team sneaks, offensive glass putbacks, and even a few of his own moves to the hoop a few nights prior, I had hoped Jordan would come even close to measuring up, but was majorly let down. Somebody needs to convince Donald Sterling to hire The Dream to work with this kid over the summer, because he's an absolute monster of a human being, who could be Chris Paul's next version of Tyson Chandler if he had the slightest idea how to finish after taking contact, or even with a defender in his general vicinity. Vinny D's sure as hell not showing him how. As Jordan takes a weak foul and splits at the line, Vinny and CP3 meet at half; Chris does most of the talking. Vinny looks confused.

"Sirius": If the satellite radio station is what immediately came to mind, please stop reading this. If you're familiar with the goosebump-inducing Allan Parsons Project anthem that's become synonymous with NBA playoff drama since MJ made it famous, then you need no explanation as to why nothing in the World could get me more excited for the fourth quarter of a close game than a bunch of people screaming deafeningly loud over this song.

"Vinny, Blake inbounds play": The climax of Vinny's wayward night comes during a crucial inbounds play where Memphis is (predictably) running a pick-and-pop for Gasol to operate in the high post. I can clearly remember thinking to myself "If they score here, it' over". Vinny's halfway on the court, near foul line extended, screaming for Blake Griffin (remember, this is Blake Griffin, not Tyson Chandler, or even Taj Gibson) to hedge closer to the screen. Blake doesn't move, doesn't even acknowledge his coach, then rises above everyone to intercept the inbound pass.

"Juice = Huge": The one regret I have from this trip (aside from ever setting foot in Tunica) is not making the wisest $20 purchase of my life on a 'Juice is My Homeboy' OJ Mayo tee, and rocking it with pride as he proceeded to throw dirt on the grave the Clippers dug for themselves with a careless attitude towards passing and defensive rebounding. Wouldn't have guessed he'd be the killer down the stretch, but tonight he was in Michael Myers mode. Vinny certainly looks very frightened.

"Z-Bo trans steal = play of game": Something I'd have much more reluctantly guessed would be that a Zach Randolph transition steal to step on the Clippers' neck would be the play of a game in which he shared the court with Blake Griffin, but as soon as it happens, Alex and I both nod assent: that was it. By the time Blake finally throws one down, it's too little too late, but damn...Is it ever still a sight.

"Vinny game over, clipboard": With the game out of hand on its final possession, and Mike Conley playing out the motions at the line, Vinny D is suddenly trying on his best "coach deep in thought" act, thoughtfully exchanging glances between his clipboard, the scoreboard, and his white-flag-waving players after a night of frantic confusion and challenged authority. It was nice of him to provide us with one last laugh, even if he couldn't help CP3 guide them into an overtime thriller for us.

I awoke the next morning in the Memphis Comfort Inn, still clad in my 'Believe' tee with my new Grizz fitted shielding my eyes from light that would surely hurt like fuck. It was a pretty nasty hangover; we joined in the post-game victory celebrations (thankfully we avoided a similar outcome to Game 1, and the ensuing post-game riot) as they spilled out onto Beale St and beyond, finally getting a ride back to our hotel from Ashley, a sweetheart (and not hard on the eyes) bartender who we befriended out of mutual frustration with a drunk homeless guy who crashed our patio table. But that's a story for another day; it was time to go back to Canada, and sadly leave this explosion of NBA playoff excitement behind me.

At least I wasn't going back to Tunica.

2012 Banter Awards: Part 2

The NBA needs some new awards. Seriously. Six trophies isn't nearly enough to honor all that transpires during the regular season. Even if they did it on-the-low, less-publicized awards like those ones that get handed out before the Grammy telecast because nobody really cares about them. Plenty of players had seasons that demanded recognition, so giving nods to both the good and bad, here's Part 2 of the 2012 Banter Awards:

Bobby Boucher Trophy - Chris Paul, Los Angeles Clippers

The player whose arrival on a new team created the greatest positive impact.

The Clippers knew this guy was worth the trouble. Even after their first attempt was stymied, they continued pushing, and haven't come close to a shred of regret. Paul's been almost Frankenstien-like with his ability to assemble such maligned talent and create such a scary monster of a team that has far too many point guards, depth issues, a lethal combination of defensive amnesia and apathy, and a clueless coach whose word his players probably value less than CP3's. The Clips have always been a wayward vessel, but at least they have the steadiest hands possible at the helm.

Regards to: Jeremy Lin, Tyson Chandler, Ramon Sessions

Simmons Beauty Rest Award: Tyson Chandler, New York Knicks

The player who had a ridiculously good year, and everybody slept on very hard.

Safe to say this is not what Tyson Chandler thought he was getting himself into. His offseason departure from the reigning champs was a much-scrutinized pass by a team he'd played a vital role for, but he'd landed in an ideal situation: basketball's Mecca needed a center badly, preferably a defensive-minded one, and had plenty of money to throw at a recent championship catalyst to help their own efforts. Chandler held up his end of the bargain; having his best season ever, completely dummying the FG% category while basically playing 1-5 defensively. And all year, few said a fucking word about his play or gave him any credence for the All-Star spot that ROY HIBBERT was awarded, while his team (bar a certain #17) garnered national headlines all season about how they were imploding around him.

Regards to: Josh Smith, Greg Monroe, Ersan Ilyasova

Canibus Award - Demar DeRozan, Toronto Raptors

The player who looked like he was going to blow up this year, and never became much.

Derozan looked to have it all this year; he was coming off a strong campaign for a rebuilding team that was ready to give him all the shine he needed as a vital cog to their young core. Instead of continue to grow, Demar almost regressed; often playing without the vigor that fueled him last season, and showing a wavering commitment to everything but scoring. Even with Andrea's Bargnani's prolonged absence, Derozan's failed to make an impact anywhere near what his potential suggests. It's certainly not too late for him, but, well... I feel like the LL Cool J beef isn't far off.

Regards to: Javale Mcgee, Nicolas Batum, Deandre Jordan

Justin Bieber Award - Dwight Howard, Orlando Magic

The player who was everywhere this year for the wrong reasons; over-exposed through foolishness that warrants some serious down time.

It was Dwight's year; but we all knew that coming in. The looming drama surrounding his impending free agency - and his desire to milk it 'til it bled - was bound to dominate this season from the moment we found out we'd have a season at all. Of course, apart from extremely annoying, this was entirely unfair to the Magic, who had their attempts to reconfigure their roster sidetracked by a year or so.... And even after the months of pretentious indecision, he couldn't even wait 'til after the season to try and get his coach fired. I hate using chat acronyms, but f***ing SMH... That's 2/2 on superstars openly trying to build their brand/public profile in the past couple years, making themselves look like idiots and becoming targets for widespread public scorn in the process. Just give it up and play basketball.

Regards to: Javale Mcgee, Andrew Bynum, Dwyane Wade

Kevin Willis Memorial Award - Grant Hill, Phoenix Suns

The player who nobody could've blamed for retiring a long time ago, and still grinds it out.

Why is Grant Hill doing this? He's 38. He's in his 16th season. He's playing a supporting role on a team stuck in NBA purgatory. That's he's even walking at this point after his busted wheels stole a first-ballot-HOF career from him is astounding. That he's still balling with enough heart to heave led the league in charges drawn last season (I know, it was last season, but still) is truly unique. But why? It's not for the money; Hill comes from a wealthy, well-educated family and has made more himself than even Antoine Walker could blow (ok, maybe not). It's not for a title, otherwise he would've discretely asked for a trade (because he's far too classy to just demand one) long ago. It's for the love of the Game. And that's what this award's about.

Regards to: Kurt Thomas, Anthony Carter, Juwan Howard

JR Rider Memorial Trophy: Dunk of the Year - Gerald Green, New Jersey Nets

Regards to: Lebron James over John Lucas III, the families of Blake Griffin's many victims

Christopher Wallace Award - Ricky Rubio, Minnesota Timberwolves

The fallen player whose team was most hurt by his absence.

Rubio's much-delayed arrival in Minnesota obviously reaped massive benefits; the team that had acquired his rights, and then hoarded point guards as though a nuclear holocaust were approaching (where were Ramon Sessions' minutes) could finally hand the keys over to their quarterback of the future. The on-court translation was almost immediate: Rubio was taking the League by storm with his dynamic court vision and defensive precision, while the Wolves were contending for the playoffs?? And Nikola Pekovic was absolutely destroying people?? Okay, obviously Pekovic's explosion and Rubio's arrival are only loosely connected, but the young Spaniard brought with him something that Minnesota hadn't had in a while: hope. There was a buzz about the Wolves this year; they were competitive, and their disparate parts were playing with a well-oiled cohesion and sense of purpose that nobody expected. That it all basically fell apart when Rubio went down for the season should surprise nobody.

Regards to: Nobody, really. The top three candidates here: Chicago, Memphis, and Atlanta, all played remarkably well in their stars' absences.

Hindenburg Award - Charlotte Bobcats

Given to the NBA's biggest disaster.

It seems redundant and downright cruel to continue bashing the Housecats at this point, but...DAMN. I just slid over to their website to check out their roster for my own amusement, and was greeted with a full-page popup excitedly announcing that the team had signed Jamario Moon?!?!?! Fuck, I'm sorry. This is supposed to be a somewhat-serious award rationale, but I can't even keep a straight face doing this. If Corey Maggette's the best scorer on your team and even a headstrong gunner like him can only muster 15/game...Just fold. No wonder MJ wants out.

Regards to: Washington Wizards, New Jersey Nets, Golden State Warriors (Want to make some easy money? Go find a sports book/dumb friend, throw down on a progressive bet of the Warriors' two best players never making it through a full season together, and wait.)

Congrats to all the winners! Playoff previews coming this week, stay tuned...

Call of Duty: Dwyane Wade and The Yao Ming Tragedy

It had almost been too long since a Miami Heat superstar put his foot in his mouth. Lebron James and Chris Bosh had been displaying an unbecoming mature silence of late, and perhaps aware of his slipping on-court contributions, Dwyane Wade made an odd mis-step with a very foolish public statement: That NBAers should be paid to play in the Olympics.

There's so much wrong with this: that it got said in the first place; that Wade isn't fit with the pride that comes from bringing your country the greatest honor you can; that he tried to cloak his selfishness by contrasting it to the plight of broke college students who are actually being taken advantage of...

Lost in the framing of ridiculous context is the single valid point Wade managed to make: "The biggest thing is now you get no rest,"... "So you go to the end of the season, [Team USA] training camp is two weeks later. You're giving up a lot to do it. It's something you want to do. But it's taxing on your body. You're not playing for the dollar. But it would be nice if you would get compensated." This is pretty reasonable, especially for a guy like Wade who hasn't taken a possession off since AAU, but does a guy like him with a $100 million contract, countless endorsements, and even more public appearance checks really need to pilfer his country's basketball program? You're either playing for the dollar or you're not Dwyane. Just be glad this isn't 1941; that'd be much more taxing free labor.

While Wade's statements are sure to rile up tons of misguided debate about the general selfishness and pretentiousness of pro athletes (remember, stupidity sells), the above excerpt calls to mind a very valid point made by Mark Cuban; that it's really the owners who are getting screwed. And even after I spent months ripping the owners for their near-squandering of our NBA season, I'm inclined to agree with him.

It's a touchy topic, especially without a large sample of players having been injured in the Olympics to draw scrutiny to the issue, but the truth about what International play can do to a player can be drawn from the tragic story of Yao Ming, who had his career stolen far too early in the name of his country's pride.

A lot of fans are quick to incorrectly lump Yao in the Greg Oden/Sam Bowie category; a massive body that wasn't built to hold itself and was bound for self-implosion. A fallacy. It doesn't take a Rocket scientist (sorry, couldn't resist) to see what happened with Yao, who played in 82, 82 and 80 games over his first 3 NBA seasons.

Meanwhile, his native China was developing technologically at an astounding rate, discovering basketball, and fucking loving it. Conveniently for their government, this explosion of popularity coincided with (and was undoubtedly helped by) Yao's dominance, and he became the face, heart, arms and legs of their national team. But this wasn't some once-every-four-years-biggest-tournament-in-the-world type shit; Yao would fly back to Beijing the day he hung up his Rockets jersey, every offseason, and begin touring with the Chinese team, essentially prolonging his basketball grind year-round. It's not like he had a choice in the matter...

The effects took hold quickly: Yao would play in 57, 48, and 55 games over the next three years, eventually missing entire seasons before shutting it down for good at the ripe age of 30. It sucked for Yao, but you know who really got the short end of the stick? The Houston Rockets.

Yao might've been cut down way before he was due, but he's still doing fine: he's a multi-millionaire, global basketball ambassador, and nothing short of a hero in China. The Rockets, on the other hand, were robbed of the NBA's best center in his prime. They had a #1 overall pick that they labored for years to get snatched from them, which in the process set their franchise back another decade or so. Forget the millions of dollars they lost, they gave up their equity in a championship foundation. Houston had plenty of reason to act a fool when David Stern shut down their Pau Gasol trade, but the underhanded crippling of Yao Ming was by far the decade's most overlooked NBA disaster. That a league allows its players and owners to be taken advantage of without protecting them against such crooked and self-destructive stupidity (you think Yao wouldn't still be the best player on the Chinese team?) is mindless.

The answer isn't obvious, but the question lingers and has to be addressed. With all the clamor about Wade's ridiculousness, there's got to be something said for this mess. If he goes down fighting for his country, he's not taking the ultimate loss, and at the end of the day, a couple extra dollars in his pocket will mean nothing next to what his absence will for his team and their fans.

Hardware Section: The 2012 NBA Awards

Quite the season it's been.

Considering us fans were 99.8% into the ditch of having no season at all, we should've been grateful for anything, but as we near the end of the most frenetic pre-playoff stretch in NBA history, we can at the very least say we've been thoroughly entertained. The quality of play may have been fleeting, as unpracticed, jet-lagged squads struggled through a workload that even their elite conditioning hadn't prepared them for, but we still had plenty to be happy about:

We got to watch two of the game's greats humbly dominate and lead their teams to the conference penthouse; Derrick Rose and Kevin Durant are still coming of age and have also become legends in the making. Meanwhile, we got to laugh at Dwight's INDecision, and saw the League's former favorite punching bag finally seem to have turned the corner with his unreal play and a sudden air of maturity. The NBA's most tantalizing highlight-reel-wet-dream of a combo was paired up and brought a playoff rivalry to the city of LA for the first time ever, while Kobe turned back the clock and reminded us that '06 wasn't THAT long ago. Kevin Love managed to blow up even bigger somehow, teaming with an almost-forgotten Spanish prodigy and an out-of-nowhere Montenegrin monster to lead the unlikeliest of revivals in Minnesota. We had plenty more to celebrate: Kyrie Irving, Serge Ibaka's Block Parties, Gerald Green (for one night), Javale Mcgee, and the awkwardly ironic sense of competitive parity that this season's hectic nature wrought upon professional basketball....And then there was Jeremy Lin.

So now, let us celebrate the best of the best, the truly elite; those who've beasted 66 games in 120 nights and laid claim to the most prestigious hardware in hoops, the 2012 Basketball Banter Awards:

Rookie of the Year: Kyrie Irving, Cleveland Cavaliers

Just as they were drying their tears from the Lebron era, Cleveland fans were blessed with another first overall pick; a parting gift after a season of misery. They invested it in Irving, who although having missed 9/10ths of his year at Duke, was a can't miss scorer/playmaker.

Few shrugged at the pick, and those who did developed season-ending shoulder stiffness very quickly. Irving was an instant offensive boost who performed in the clutch with veteran sagacity and made this a one horse race even before Rubio's wheels fell off. He may not be Queen James, but really, who is?

Regards to: Ricky Rubio, Kemba Walker, Kawhi Leonard

Defensive Player of the Year: Dwight Howard, Orlando Magic

I have a really, really tough time doing this. It's tough because Dwight spent the entire year coasting, his thoughts more directed at the offseason than the postseason; he generally played with the relative intensity of a hormone-injected flamingo. It's tougher because he also undermined his entire team all year, distracting the players with his ongoing foolishness, while handicapping the front office, who lost a year to rebuild while their star flopped about until he got exactly his way. It's even tougher because many worthy competitors made compelling cases, especially Lebron James and Josh Smith, who have re-defined defensive versatility. But nonetheless, even at his worst, Howard's still the best defender in the league. He's just that good. If only he didn't know it.

Regards to: Lebron James, Josh Smith, Serge Ibaka

Coach of the Year: Gregg Popovich, San Antonio Spurs

Some might call this a reputation pick. If you do, I really don't care because it's a total joke that Pop only has one of these trophies, and what happened in San Antonio this season was nothing short of miraculous. The Spurs were write-offs after their first-round dismissal last April; the Death of a Dynasty was proclaimed and people were realistically floating around the once inane concept of breaking up their Big 3. Obviously immune to that nonsense, Pop did as he's always done; made subtle lineup adjustments that kept the Spurs above water, instilling confidence that they'd play through and persevere, while making possibly the fewest XnO errors along the way. After a season that both pundits and fans agreed would be brutal on their aging stars, Pop has steered the Spurs to within two games of the best record in the West, and he's again managed to keep Tim Duncan as fresh as possible for their playoff run. It's a reputation that deserves padding.

Regards to: Tom Thibodeau, Lionel Hollins, Doug Collins

Sixth Man of the Year: James Harden, Oklahoma City Thunder

Very rarely does a player come into the race for an award like this with "it's his to lose" status. Watching him then not only meet those expectations, but laugh at them as Harden did this season, happens about as often as a Dr. Dre album release party. Harden made the entire league Fear the Beard with his adept combination of scoring and playmaking - the kind of seamless balance that's eluded a certain other OKC guard - while playing with a very high IQ that belies his bench status and suggests his ceiling's still a ways off. The numbers are huge, but even they don't tell the whole story. This was romp.

Regards to: James Harden's Beard, Lou Williams, Jamal Crawford

Most Improved Player: Nikola Pekovic, Minnesota Timberwolves

Thanks to a certain New York Knick, the MIP is sure to be more talked about this year than most; Jeremy Lin came out of absolutely nowhere at the perfect time for a reeling squad, and made an epic run that became the story of the season. The hype was incredible, somehow managing to distort reality to the point that something so sudden and historic seemed over-rated. That aside, I've thought about this one very hard, and can't give Lin the MIP for two reasons: first, obviously, he just didn't play enough; his emergence was late into an already-pint-sized season, and was unfortunately cut short. Second, I'm not so much convinced that Jeremy Lin improved as a basketball player, as that he exposed perhaps the greatest collective scouting fuck-up in NBA history.

Meanwhile, Pekovic spent last season as a 6-man, in that he came off the bench and was largely only useful for six fouls. Then this year, Darko Milicic went down (oh no!!), and by the second week of his baptism-by-fire as a replacement starter, Pekovic had evolved into a walking double-double who absolutely punished defenders on the low block and finished with the soft touch Darko couldn't develop after nine years. Nobody saw this coming. Nobody had Nikola Pekovic on their "breakout players" list going into this season; his evolution as a player was exactly what this award's about: a player who rose to the occasion when his team needed it, working his ass off to take his game beyond where anyone thought possible.

Regards to: Ryan Anderson, Jeremy Lin, Kyle Lowry

Most Valuable Player: Lebron James, Miami Heat

Hail the Queen! Two years ago, in my MVP writeup, I said it was going to be very difficult for Lebron James to impress us in the regular season anymore; that even at such a young age his dominance seemed redundant. Well, consider words eaten, as James hit a whole 'nother level this year: the ridiculous numbers were still there, only in fewer minutes. He notched even higher in the PER record books, upping his FG% by adding a once-absent low-post dimension to his game. He burned any faint memories of the once-nonchalant defender, becoming a guy who can now selectively take over games on D and makes a very convincing argument for being the most versatile defensive player in the history of the NBA. All he has to do now, is do it in the Finals.

Regards to: Kevin Durant, Kevin Love, Chris Paul

Congrats to the Official Winners! Part 2, the UnOfficial Awards, drop later this week.

The Requisite MVP Odds Column

It's what everyone's talking about right now, and rightfully so.

Every year, around this time, the MVP discussion blows up the NBA blogosphere (ya, I'm sorry for using that word), and even this season of 11-game nights and mass confusion has been no exception.

Tonight, the Podoloff's two front-runners are facing off in the game that will probably carry the single most weight in the MVP discussion - a clash that couldn't have come at a better time; right as Durant stole the momentum from what seemed like a snap-vote for Queen James. Last year Derrick Rose went completely postal in this such game, actively deconstructing the Heat down the stretch of an ABC Sunday victory that solidified Chicago's 1-seed and his status as MVP, as well as - literally - sending Miami away in tears.

With the debate heating up, now seems like a prime time to lay some MVP gambling guidelines, so here's Banter's Official (don't blame me if you lose a mortgage) 2012 MVP Odds:

Jeremy Lin, New York Knicks: Just kidding.

Josh Smith, Atlanta Hawks: 525:1 - This isn't really serious either. It's just a nod to one of the most criminally underrated seasons in NBA history, in which a fringe All-Star stepped up his post presence when his team's center went down for the count, kept them afloat, had one of the most impressively versatile seasons in recent memory, and was cheated out of the Midseason Classic by his own teammate's reputation nod. Shame.

Tony Parker, San Antonio Spurs: 37:1 - If there was ever a doubt about Pretty Tony's HOF credentials, this season bagged it. He's improbably led the Spurs to within striking distance of 1st in the West when everyone had written them off, with Timmy D at a career-high level of irrelevance. With Duncan on the court so little (if you think Zach Randolph and Marc Gasol manhandling an exhausted TD last spring wasn't permanently seared into Gregg Popovich's mind you're mistaken), much of the offense - playmaking and scoring - has rested on Parker's shoulders, and he's responded with the finest season of his career.

Dwight Howard, Orlando Magic: 25:1 - This is right for all the wrong reasons. Sure, Howard's by far the most dominant two-way center in the League, but he seems to lack the intensity and focus that still separate him from someone like, say, David Robinson (not that anyone's ever made that comparison before). Sure, he's the single reason the Magic are in the playoffs, but his year-long InDecision saga is also the reason they haven't been able to position themselves to contend (and also likely responsible for massive levels of stress increase among Magic fans). Sure, he's probably going to be in the MVP conversation every year for the foreseeable future, but it's looking like a longshot that he'll grasp it.

Kobe Bryant, Los Angeles Lakers: 18:1 - Kobe's on the rebound. Not only did he just get divorced, but was also just torn away from the most profound basketball relationship of his life, and found Mike F***ing Brown in its place. The result has been an Iversonian offensive reign that has stat geeks spewing rhetoric about his usage rate, and the traffic on a certain German physician's website going through the roof. In essence, Kobe's been the Lakers this year: he sees his window closing, wants to make an impact on the record books, saw the 8th on #NBARank, and has the same respect for his coach's leash as you did for a substitute teacher in the 5th grade. So it's safe to say he deserves most of the credit for them being 3rd in the West and above everyone's expectations.

Chris Paul, Los Angeles Clippers: 13:1 - Let's call Chris Paul what he is: the NBA's only modern-day Player-Coach. His contributions to the Clippers - particularly in the fourth quarter, where they'd be absolutely rudderless without him - are horrifically underrated and the ultimate testament to how the value of a player can truly transcend the numbers. "Making those around you better" has become such a cliche MVP argument that it almost insults the way he sucks defenders far enough away from Caron Butler for the easiest looks of his career (that he still misses...), creates DeAndre Jordan's entire offensive game or places alley-oops passes too perfectly for Blake Griffin to catch them behind his head. He's the glue holding together a team of talented, maligned pieces and making them a playoff team. That he pulls a Peyton Manning during the fourth quarter of every close game, still has the Clippers (yes, THE CLIPPERS) holding down homecourt, and probably has no chance of winning, is by far the season's most ridiculous MVP fallacy (there's always a few). Which leads me to...

Kevin Love, Minnesota Timberwolves: 12:1 - Love can't be this year's MVP fallacy because his leading of Minnesota's unlikely resurrection has garnered enough fringe MVP buzz that I'm sure a few of the loopier voters are going to give him plenty of love (pun intended). What he is is a perhaps more-poignant 2005 Lebron James: an absolutely dominant player on a (once) hopeful playoff team that has done everything short of filling Gatorade coolers, and calls into debate the true context of "value" as the MVP voting precedent has addressed it. If you took Kevin Love away from the Wolves, it would arguably have more of a devastating impact on Minnesota than any other team losing its ace. In that sense, he should definitely be in the conversation, but because his team was only an 8-seed, and now worse, he stands no legitimate chance, unless the same type of political nonsense that's persisted in any kind of NBA voting (I know how weird that sounds) for years gets completely turned on its head. As much as I'd love to see this guy do it, I'd put my money on one of these two...

Kevin Durant, Oklahoma City Thunder: 2:1 - Durant's kind of a weird guy. I don't mean that in a "he strikes me as strange" way (even after that whole backpack thing), but in that he's done something this season that many superstars would never even consider: he's seemingly almost ceded in the Russell Westbrook Power Struggle that cynics feared would ruin their season. He's allowing Westy to continue getting his at an abnormal rate, and being perhaps the most submissive MVP candidate on this list, while still spearheading a trio that, along with Westbrook and Harden is scoring at a more efficient rate on the floor together than any team in NBA history (seriously, look it up). He's one of the League's most feared clutch assassins, and has delivered to the tune of a season-long stint atop the West. Oh, and he completely ruined Lebron James' shit last week.

Lebron James, Miami Heat: 1.2:1 - Obviously, Durant's trending right now after he embodied an OKC trouncing of the Heat and sent today's ever-fickle masses into pandemonium about how there was a new MVP favorite. I'm a firm believer that the human brain has yet to evolve at the same rate as technology to properly handle all the information we're perpetually bombarded with, and I feel like that might be causing some slight amnesia in a lot of NBA "heads". They've forgotten that before an injury brought on the first real regular-season slump of the Queen's career (and, yes I plan on calling him that until he wins a title), he'd spent months making a mockery of the MVP race, putting up the same ridiculous numbers in fewer minutes, creating points with historic efficiency and aptly defending all five positions, lifting the Heat while Dwyane Wade has sunk to (relatively) unfathomable lows. Well, he's broken out of that slump. So my money's on him.

Good luck with your bets, and enjoy your winnings responsibly.

"I Am Not A Role Model"

Immortal words from a man who's dropped almost as many memorable quotes as double doubles over the years. Charles Barkley was talking about all the troubling behavior most parents sneer at and fear from their children's idols: arguing with referees, brawling with the opposition, spitting on fans and talking more shit than anyone around the NBA would dare these days.

But while the NBA's definitely adopted a more (fan-) friendly approach since the M@P unleashed an almost 9/11-esque overhaul of public policy, basketball's very essence has allowed the league to manufacture a product that's very quickly creating a different kind of harmful role model.

Let's call the NBA what it is: the most star-driven of the Big 4 North American team sports. Not only is basketball the only one where any given star doesn't spend half the game on the bench, but its nature fosters the potential for players to dynamically affect the game in so many ways. Knowing this (and also knowing that Michael Jordan was a once-in-eternity blessing for them) the Sternbot and his cronies have gradually developed (through everything from their promotion style to hand-checking rules that pamper perimeter scorers) a league that puts even more emphasis on their best players, which has shown to exacerbate the already-bloated ego of the typical professional athlete.

The drama unfolding as we speak is pathetic: A guy who's far and away the most dominant two-way player at his position in the NBA (and has been for years despite not having given 110% in any game for about three seasons now) is holding a franchise, hell an entire city of sports fans, hostage at the trade deadline, feigning a slight interest in commitment so he can be courted in Free Agency. This guy (it's Dwight Howard for those of you who haven't figured out by now) has become just the latest in a long line of players who've manipulated franchises - usually for the worse - to get what their way (as if they didn't have enough), taking advantage of how important an asset they know themselves to be. It's a new breed of NBA star: the Diva. It's a disturbing and ridiculous trend.

Vince Carter. Stephon Marbury. Kobe Bryant (the OLD Kobe Bryant...Might also be worth noting that his diva act directly led to two championships). Lebron James. Chris Bosh. Carmelo Anthony. Add Howard to the list after yet another Twitter misstep (you'd think these guys would figure it out by now) made either of two things very clear: 1. Dwight Howard, despite being a nice guy, is clearly indecisive and insincere, two things you'd hope not to see in a franchise guy or anyone that had matured at all since leaving high school for the NBA. 2. Dwight Howard is a lying, attention-starved douchebag.

There's really no other way to look at it. Even if Howard truly is torn and loves Orlando as a city and team, they'd both be better off if he let them down easy and told them it wasn't going to work. Seriously. Dwight Howard is close to a decade into his NBA career and surely must know by this point if he's motivated by money or glory. Either way his decision's easy: The Magic can give him far more money than any other team, but aren't close to winning a title this season, or next season, and have someone who gave Rashard Lewis $400 quadrillion to shoot threes and ignore defense steering the helm of their franchise.

For the past eight months, Magic fans everywhere have been sleeping on beds of nails, while Howard's been happily Twittering around and listlessly dominating the paint, caught up in this fantasy while he captures headlines and sparks debate; the entire league caught up in his indecisiveness.

This is not what basketball's about.

It's about guys like Derrick Rose and Kevin Durant; guys who catch headlines with their play instead of their childish behavior. When it came time for them to make their future-binding decisions, they didn't flop their intentions around, hold nationally-televised events or ask their fans where to go, they just put pen to paper with the teams that drafted them and continued playing, sorry dominating, as if it had never happened. They're team guys; guys you'd want to bring home to Mom if you were a scout and "Mom" was an NBA GM. They're humble, work their asses off, and are never going to do what Dwight Howard is doing to basketball, hell pro sports, right now. What's sad and telling is that remarkably few players have been able to take heed from Rose and Durant, and that the masses continue to fuel their antics; giving the Dwights of the World satisfaction every time we click a trade rumor link.

I'd love, just for once to see a headline like "Rose keeps word, signs extension" or "Durant re-signs without first demanding trade". Because the guy who's just trying to go out there and win basketball games is becoming a rare breed.

Rollin' a .5 - The Halftime Awards

As we creep up to the earliest All-Star game ever, the race for the NBA's annual awards is heating up and sure to be trendy conversation among hoop-heads over the next two months. Here's an early look at who should be getting some recognition; Banter's Halftime Awards

MVP - Lebron James, Miami Heat

It's kind of sick when you think about it really. The guy who'd been the NBA's #1 or #1a in everyone's eyes for several years came out and got noticeably better. Obviously shook by coming closer than he ever has to a title, only to spend a prolonged offseason hearing how he cost his team the chance to grasp it, Bron's been putting up ridiculous numbers while (understandably) playing the fewest minutes of his career. He's scoring at an insanely efficient rate and has Miami right where they should be despite injuries to Wade, roster shuffles, and the thrills of a 3 on 5 offense. It'll take a lot for someone to snare this from him.

Regards to: Derrick Rose, Chris Paul, Kevin Durant

Rookie of the Half - Kyrie Irving, Cleveland Cavaliers

This award was seemingly Irving's to lose from the get-go, and despite a rookie class that's outperformed its diminutive expectations, Irving's been its top performer and an instant dose of hope to a city whose basketball fans had no reason to have any. Ricky Rubio's been putting on a very impressive show with his flashy passing and incredible defense (seriously, he's on pace to become the first rookie to lead the L in steals. Ever.), but it almost seems as though his familiarity with the European game has lulled him into a false sense of security, thinking he can get away with a lot of fancy bullshit on offense that just doesn't fly in the NBA, and has cost his team multiple games down the stretch. Still should be a tight race, but give Irving the edge.

Regards to: Ricky Rubio, Kemba Walker, Iman Shumpert

Coach of the Half - Doug Collins, Philadelphia 76ers

Normally this award's a clusterfuck of subjectivity and misled voters who look at a team's improvement and automatically assume the coach had everything to do with it. Well, in this case, he did. Philly has (with one exception) the exact same roster as last season, and are on pace to improve from the 7th to 3rd seed in a suddenly tougher East. None of their players have had breakout seasons, just another year of tutelage from an underrated coach with a proven track record of successfully developing young talent. This one should be a no-brainer.

Regards to: Rick Adelman, Gregg Popovich, Frank Vogel

Defensive Player of the Half - Dwight Howard, Orlando Magic

Tough call here, especially when you consider that the Magic aren't playing up to potential and Howard's listlessly cruising through the first half of this season while his this whole "trade" thing plays out. But even on cruise control, Howard's a game-changing force on D night-in and night-out (which, this year is tougher than any season), anchoring what, around him, are mostly average-at best defenders who've gotten comfortable having such a huge beast protecting the rim. This trophy's supposed to go the league's best defensive player, so that's who's getting it.

Regards to: Andre Iguodala, Tyson Chandler, Josh Smith

Sixth Man of the Half - James Harden, Oklahoma City Thunder

You could've safely made a bet on this one before the season started, and although Lou Williams is giving Harden some heat, he's even better than last year's playoff run and the most consistent, multi-faceted bench player in the NBA right now. His emergence as a legit 3rd scoring option has been critical for an OKC bench that would otherwise rely on their stars for half their points every night. His team's on top of the West and Harden's looking as though his ceiling hasn't been hit yet.

Regards to: Lou Williams, Mo Williams, Al Harrington

Most Improved Player: Jeremy Lin, New York Knicks

This pick might be....Controversial. I figure not everyone's on board as the only person I've really discussed this with this week (someone whose opinion I value) thinks I'm dead wrong. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm a victim of the hype; this guy was a nobody two weeks ago. But the way I see it, in the context of this award, Jeremy Lin has just had the most impressive two weeks in NBA HISTORY. Surely that's enough to make him the favorite in a season we haven't even played two months of yet.

Regards to: Kyle Lowry, Ryan Anderson, Nikola Pekovic

Who The Hell is Jeremy Lin?

Just last week, you would have represented an overwhelming majority of the general public, and even a large spectrum of NBA fans, if you uttered those words. My, how times change. Now, everyone (and I do mean everyone) knows a lot more about Jeremy Lin:

Jeremy Lin is a Harvard graduate.

Jeremy Lin is the NBA's first Asian-American player.

Jeremy Lin was undrafted, and ten days ago, didn't know if he'd have a guaranteed contract for the rest of the season.

We know this because, against every fathomable degree of logic and probability, Jeremy Lin came out this week for a floundering team without its two best players and dropped the highest-scoring trio of debut starts in NBA history; all W's.

I just watched him lead his team to another victory, hanging 20 and 8 on a suddenly legitimate Minnesota team, and felt under-whelmed...Remember this is Jeremy Lin we're talking about here, 20 and 8 in a W doesn't underwhelm me unless you're Lebron James or you've been sucking for my fantasy team (...Russell....). What's this World coming to? You can't make this shit up, it's too unreal...Hell I should probably stop writing this right now and get the jump on penning a script for Linsanity: An Underdog Story. In my MIP post last week, I spoke of the various factors that have come together to make unlikely breakouts not all the unlikely this year, and a perfect storm of those variables has created one of the most out-of-nowhere -and certainly sudden - stars in pro sports history. That he's doing it on basketball's biggest stage, for a team who would've traded Walt Frazier's closet for legitimate point guard, makes it even more ridiculous.

Jeremy Lin's story has come along at the perfect time as well. A couple weeks ago, The BS Report talked about how this season's hectic, action-filled schedule was perfect for the on-the-fly social media generation that can watch several games at once, while receiving Twitter updates and harassing the friends they just passed in their online pool. Consequently, Lin's spellbinding story (and really, it sounds ridiculous, but there's nothing else to call it) has rippled much further than it would've ten, even five years ago. The internet's more ubiquitous than ever, and in total pandemonium about what's going on: This morning, after dumping 38 on Kobe and the Lakers, Lin headlined NBA.com's front page, but also ESPN's, and even on Yahoo!, MSN, and even CNN before news of Whitney Houston's passing broke.

I feel like this is big. "News", by and large, as we've come to know it, is garbage. Most of what we're exposed to as mass-media-minions in today's unavoidably informative society is either depressing rhetoric about foreign wars, gun violence, and the trillions of ways to give yourself cancer, or agenda-pushing horseshit that's hardly worth its weight in the salt you should take it with. We're (to some extent) being suppressed by this overload of negative information, because let's face it, it's what people are going to tune in for.

Rarely does such an improbable and non-polarizing feel-good story come along, and that it's permeating into a media pool that's inundated with tragedy and dishonesty is promising. This sounds corny, but plain and simple, the World needs more inspiration; more Jeremy Lins, more reasons to celebrate successes and believe that with driven application, it can be duplicated. If even one little kid, who doesn't watch basketball and never otherwise would've heard of Jeremy Lin, sees him on TV, thinks his story's cool, and gains the confidence to strive for something big and improbable, then we're all better off.

It's going to be interesting to see how Jeremy Lin adapts to having his name known; not only is he suddenly one of the NBA's biggest celebrities, but he'll have a target on him every time he steps onto the floor and won't be taking anyone by surprise ever again. Things are gonna be changing very quickly for him, and even though we feel like we know everything there is to know about Jeremy Lin after this crazy week, we're about to find out much more...

PED Watch '12: The Early MIP Candidates

Last year was an exciting one for the Most Improved Player race; a bunch of young guys primed for blow-up seasons delivered on their immense promise and made for a wide-open contest before Kevin Love went all Vince in Oakland while hardly leaving the floor.

This season, PED Watch is back for another thrilling drive to the MIP in what might be the perfect year for widespread outbreaks. Everything about this 66-game clusterfuck lends itself to young guys with upside getting opportunity: veterans being out of shape from the long offseason (and expected no-season), fresher legs having more energy every night, more injuries, more lineup changes, and the added X-factor that only 3 of 30 NBA teams are definitely not in dice-rolling mode. Ya, things have been pretty hectic so far, but who's stood out among the rest? Here's some love for the guys who really spent the extra down time last year puttin' in work:

Kyle Lowry, Houston Rockets - The Rockets had a pretty awful year due to some bullshit out of their own control, from sources both indirect (the Chinese government) and very direct (David Stern), that collectively crippled this otherwise well-managed team. When the transaction they'd spent years saving for was corruptly denied, Houston had little to smile about. Then Lowry came out guns-a-blazin', doing his best Kevin Johnson impersonation and leading the Rockets attack with a poise that put an already-stacked class of NBA PG's on notice. Had he kept up his early pace, this column may not have been worth writing, but despite a recent shooting gaffe (a 9 game stretch where he went 30-99), he remains the strongest contender.

Ryan Anderson, Orlando Magic - As if Otis Smith didn't already look stupid enough for signing Rashard Lewis, but he's managed to cushion the insult to his own injury by unearthing a guy who does everything Lewis did for them (arguably better) at a zillionth of the cost. While even Anderson hasn't been immune to the recent plague of disconnect on an injured and obviously distracted Magic squad, he's having a career year, offering a unique combination of tough, versatile defense from the 4 with deadly 3-point shooting. Pat Garrity must be proud.

Greg Monroe, Detroit Pistons - Having NBA League Pass is awesome for any number of reasons, most of all the ability to see teams that never get any burn on TV. It's great being able to watch the young, exciting Wolves come of age, the under-repped Pacers prove their threat, or the clueless Wizards just try not to kill each other. There's one team that I can find no time for: Detroit. Because they're a fucking quagmire of everything that's wrong with the NBA these days: horrible contracts, maligned talent, no identity, untimely stagnation, awful coaching, and the lack of balls to fire the guy with deep franchise roots whose front office savvy expired quicker than a Radio Shack warranty. It's a shame because Greg Monroe's just an absolute beast who's going to be a perennial All-Star once Dwight changes conferences and/or he gets the hell out of Detroit.

Nikola Pekovic, Minnesota Timberwolves - Playing the game with an aggressiveness that matches his Russian gangster/kodiak bear stature, Pekovic has blossomed in his newfound starting role as Kevin Love's bash brother and Ricky Rubio's low-post muse. Apparently thriving under the tutelage of 80's great and Wolves assistant Jack Sikma, the fans in Minny have been treated to Peko's re-defined court awareness, and improved footwork and finishing (there's been a lot more Godfather music echoing through the Target Center lately), as well as a sense of primacy: he's playing like he knows he's a force, and making Love's responsibility to dominate that much easier. Looks like another blown shot for Darko.

Paul George, Indiana Pacers - While it's hard to really blow up on a team as well-balanced and mundane as the Pacers, George has done his best to make his name ring out. His surgical long-range trigger's given him the confidence to exploit less athletic defenders off the dribble, and while his finishing in traffic and mid-range decision making aren't always as smooth as his perimeter game (including on D), he's shown many flashes of greatness this year and will only get better with more, well, as the rappers call it, "swag".

DeAndre Jordan, Los Angeles Clippers - There's a valid but finite argument to made about a guy's candidacy for this award when his numbers are up across the board and he's second in the League in blocks and FG%. Jordan's improvement this season goes far beyond the numbers and delves into his role as the backbone of, let's call a spade a spade, an awful defensive unit. Sure, Chris Paul's as good an on-the-ball defender as you'll find in the backcourt, but behind him? Mo Williams plays defense like Lebron plays 4th quarters. Caron Butler's clearly lost the quickness that made him so effective on D and appears to have gone the way of Metta World Peace. Chauncey was already a step slow and now isn't stepping at all. And Blake? Serious case of Defense ADHD. Jordan's gotta force himself into the role of Tyson Chandler as a 3rd-year player, on a woeful defensive team facing the greatest expectations and hype, with Vinny Del Negro as his coach. And he's doing a pretty good job so far.

I'd also like to add an honorary nomination for the entire Philadelphia 76ers roster; although I can't find the gumption to nominate a single player (what, is Spencer Hawes finally growing a pair really that impressive?), they're vastly improved as a unit and playing above the sum of their parts by such a wide margin over anyone that it needs its own footnote. They made no significant roster changes, just gave a good coach another season to continue developing their young talent, worked hard on their games, and made the adjustments they needed to win together. They embody everything this award does, and that they've done it as an entire team makes it all the more impressive.

A few names you might've expected to see here that got the slash; Andrea Bargnani (because he was almost playing above Raptor status, God had to smite him), James Harden (as well as he's playing he kinda crashed his own MIP party too hard last spring), Jeff Teague (ditto), Jeremy Lin (because one week's not enough, even though I'm sure the Knicks' backcourt sucks enough for him to keep stylin' on 'em), and DeMarcus Cousins (when you spend an entire year hearing "oh, he's worth the headaches" you kinda just expect him to play well).

That's all for PED Watch '12. I'll be back in a few days to take some time off the poker grind and drop a live game blog (haven't figured out which one yet). I've been meaning to do one for awhile, just gets kinda overwhelming balancing several tournaments with the quad-game view on League Pass Broadband (#seizures). Anyways, til then, peace.

Being David Kahn

There's a lot of confusing shit going on in the NBA this year. Granted, this was a hastily assembled season that's given way to statistical oblivion and managerial panic, but still, some things have always just managed to escape all boundaries of logic and justice.

Take, for example, David Kahn being given a job as an NBA GM. At the time, Kahn was a dual degree holder (English and Law) with an impressive real estate portfolio, who although having had spent time working for the Pacers in 90's, had absolutely no first-hand experience with any sort of basketball operations. So, of course, he was handed the keys to an NBA franchise. This made absolutely no sense and was completely unfair.

Kahn went on to perform a myriad of impressive, and equally confusing, feats over his front office tenure: A month after his hiring, he kicked off his regime by drafting three point guards in the same first round, keeping the worst to run his offense (Jonny Flynn), trading the best (Ty Lawson), then weeks later handing two career fringe starters (Luke Ridnour, Ramon Sessions) - who by sheer coincidence also happen to be point guards - like $45 million. The hits continued: taking a public spin as Mike Beasley's narcotics councilor, getting no equity from salary-dumping their best player, over-paying Darko Milicic when no one else was willing to pay him anything...These were not only impressive in that it took either a massive amount of courage or miseducation to pull them off, but the fact that Kahn was able to continuously do this without getting fired was just simply fucking incredible.

This past week was a big one for Kahn; he had to make good on just about the only thing he's done right so far as GM by getting All-Star forward (and glimmering inspiration for white, unathletic ballers everywhere) Kevin Love to commit to the team long-term. It was widely assumed that Love would be getting the same max deal classmate Russell Westbrook had inked the previous week, but in an unrivaled feat of ballsy under-valuing of talent, Kahn managed to convince Love - you know, the guy doing 25 and 15 - that he was worth relatively the same amount of money as Nene - you know, the guy having a career year at 14 and 9.

I'm at a loss here - genuinely confused - because this demonstrates more savvy than all of Kahn's previous transactions combined. He got great value on a borderline top-10 player, and while Love's opt-out clause gives Minnesota a small window to grow into a real team, they'll be better positioned going forward to lock down guys who they'll need to contend. While K-Lovie undeniably got screwed (seriously, he's working harder than anyone on that team at all times), the bullet he bit financially will reap benefits for the franchise in years to come, make him the unselfish superstar, and Kahn the.....(hold on, I need to mentally prepare myself for this).......(still not ready yet)......(ok, here it goes)...competent GM.

Is David Kahn finally getting it? Was he just playing dumb the whole time and duping rival GMs into underestimating him? Was the whole point guard thing just a sick level? Because suddenly, Minnesota's roster - with the addition of Nash heir apparent Ricky Rubio - is exciting, (relatively) competitive, and loaded with upside. While most GMs would've thrown as much money as they could at Love to entice him to stay in a cold, crappy basketball market with no winning history, Kahn didn't lose sight of the team, and in fact put more pressure on himself to turn this team around on a tighter schedule. Not what I ever expected from someone who had the foresight to joke to reporters about the league fixing last year's draft lottery for Dan Gilbert's autistic son (and expect to not be murdered on Twitter within 5 minutes), but still impressive.

All things said, I hope for Love's sake that this works out in his favor and he gets to reap the benefits of a successful basketball career. Up until this week, I would've said there wasn't a chance in hell of that happening with Minnesota under their current reign, but if this isn't just a momentary lapse of intelligence and cunning, then maybe Kahn isn't so dim-witted after all.

Of course, part of me is still secretly praying it is. This guy's just way too hilarious. KAAAAAHHHHHHNNNNNN