USA vs. Spain: Live from Barcelona!

Let's get right into it: here's Part 2 of Banter correspondent Alex Livingston's live reports from the Team USA Olympic tune-ups in Barcelona...


As amped as I was about seeing USA take on a feisty Argentinian squad, I was even more excited to see them take on a more polished and talented Spanish team, featuring the Gasol brothers, Jose Calderon, and Serge Ibaka. I had a better seat, and was anticipating a raucous crowd on hand to support the home team. I was not disappointed. 


Now with full knowledge of the no-beer rule (which the poor 45 year old Floridians behind me in line at the concession stand for 15 minutes at halftime were not aware of), I prepared in advance with a few cold ones during my early evening session of texas hold'em. Eventually clubs started to look like spades, straights like full houses, and I decided it was time to head to the venue of Palau St Jordi.


I arrived at the game 30 minutes prior to tip-off, and there was already tremendous energy rippling through the crowd. Various pro-Spain chants and songs were breaking out from all angles. I was seated next to an extremely friendly couple from Madrid, who had made the 3 hour journey to see the game. I got into a friendly but spirited argument with the husband, Aflredo, about who the best player in the league is. He claimed it was Durant (who he, like all Spaniards, pronounced "Doooorahnn. "Bryant was pronounced "Brian", and my favourite, Melo was pronounced "Antoni"). I was of course defending my position of Bismack Biyombo being #1 in the league. Eventually, after polling nearby audience members and reaching a split decision, we agreed to disagree, and it was time for the player introductions.


I was interested to see if the Spaniards, who had cheered for every member of both the USA and Argentina two nights prior, would cheer or boo the American players. While there was a scattering of boos from the most diehard patriots, the American players were mostly received well. The Spanish players were of course given a raucous applause, with Pau receiving the biggest of them all. (Side note: one thing I'd noticed during the warmup was that Pau's jersey said "GASOL" on the back, while Marc's said "MARC." I wonder if this is an older brother status thing, or if Marc had had the more illustrious career thus far, he'd get the honour of wearing his team's last name).


After the intros, the crowd collectively survived a pathetic rendition of the national anthems and it was time for tip-off. Pau won the tip but the Spaniards missed a shot and Chris Paul ended up draining a pure 3 on the ensuing possession for the first points of the game. The Spaniards then went on a 10-0 run, spurred largely by the impressive mid-range jump shooting of Serge Ibaka. They were also assisted by several dubious travel calls against team USA in the early minutes. One thing I noticed in both games is that refs are much more liberal with calling travels; it's possible that they are doing it correctly here and we are just so used to the NBA letting things slide. In any event, Lebron was not happy.


At this point, Coach Krzyzewski (how on earth this name is pronounced "Sha-shef-ski is beyond me) called a timeout, in an effort to regroup his troops. I was going to write a paragraph in the Argentina game about how I felt Carmelo Anthony didn't belong on team USA. My thinking was that on a team so stacked with individual superstars, someone with Melo's selfishness and shoot-first mentality could be better replaced by a role player who played good defense and didn't demand the ball. Boy am I glad that I didn't publish that worthless drivel.


Melo went on an absolute tear after the timeout, starting with draining a tough contested 3, stealing the ball on the defensive end, and draining a wide open 3. He went on to finish with a sensational 23 points in the first half, despite coming off the bench in a game with 10 minute quarters. Still, the Spaniards maintained a lead thanks to a nice 1-2 frontcourt punch of Pau and Ibaka. The two subbed for each other fairly regularly, but also shared some minutes.


Kevin Love was inserted in the game late in the first quarter, which was a nice adjustment by Coach K to counter the size of the Spaniards. The first quarter ended with Melo and Ibaka trading baskets, with Ibaka looking like a 2004 KG, blocking shots, getting rebounds, and displaying a very nice mid-range jumper. By the end of the 1st quarter, the US had cut nicely into the Spanish lead, and were down 23-21.


Early in the 2nd quarter, Lebron nailed a dagger 3 pointer to give the US their first lead since it was 3-0. James Harden was inserted into the lineup midway through the 2nd, putting all four Thunder players on the court at once. As with the previous game, one of the most impressive things about Lebron was his passing and court vision, and he went cross court to a hot Carmelo Anthony for 3 to put the US up 8 with 3 minutes to play in the half. 


Melo continued to show, as he had in the first game, that there wasn't a shot he didn't like. Luckily, this game he was nailing everything, and the Americans lead was growing. With two minutes to go in the game, Kobe had the play of the game so far with an explosive dunk over a Spanish player, bringing the crowd to their feet. Once again, and especially for Kobe, the crowd was willing to cheer for the great Team USA plays, even if they were decisively pro-Spain. With the quarter winding down, Ibaka got called with a questionable goaltend, which was booed heavily by the crowd. Thanks to Melo's 3 and a very solid all-around half by Lebron, the US was up by 13 at the intermission.


Marc Gasol hadn't played any minutes by halftime and (spoiler alert) he didn't play any minutes all game. This was definitely a disappointment because he's probably my favourite member of Team Spain, and definitely my favourite Gasol. However he's recovering from some injuries, and the team is understandably trying to make sure he's healthy for the Olympics.


At halftime, fans were treated to an array of impressive trampoline dunks by a team of kids who looked no older than 16. Leaping 13-15 feet in the air off the trampolines, doing double flips, jumping over 3 people standing on top of each other, these kids were bringing out every trick in the books, and it was quite entertaining. By contrast, most of the other entertainment during intermissions and timeouts was very poor compared to NBA standards. A particularly cringeworthy segment featured the DriveCam, sponsored by some small European car company. If you see yourself on the big screen, you're supposed to imitate yourself driving a car. For some reason, the Spanish fans seemed to soak in this segment. Must be a cultural thing.


Eventually the buzzer sounded and it was time to resume the game. The 2nd half started with the US extending their lead thanks to two huge dunks from Lebron on consecutive offensive possessions. One thing I should've mentioned in the last write-up was the energetic play of Russell Westbrook. Probably the quickest player on the floor, he also played both games with the enthusiasm and intensity level you'd expect in an NBA playoff game. Midway through the 3rd, Westbrook put on a basketball skills clinic, starting by crossing over Calderon, deking around the rest of Team Spain, and putting in a reverse lay-up AND ONE. He followed that up by successfully gambling on a steal early in Spain's next possession, and running down the floor for a thunderous dunk.


At this point, the US was up 19, and Spain called a time-out. Here I began to reflect a bit on the difference between the two games. One thing that came to mind is that Spain lacked a clear leader. Neither Ibaka nor Pau, though both terrific players, possess particularly strong leadership qualities. Two nights prior, the Argentinians had kept the game close thanks to the leadership of Ginobli and Scola, both on the court, and in the huddles. Of the three teams I saw, I'd say Argentina had by far the most team chemistry. 


The main reason this game was turning into a blowout, though, was that the US was playing fantastic team basketball. There were moments in the first game where Lebron, Kobe, and several others, appeared too casual. There was none of that in this game. The stakes were higher, and it showed, as everyone on Team USA was playing with great energy, and the team's sensational offensive talents were coexisting harmoniously.


With 3 minutes left in the third quarter and his team up 20, Westbrook scrambled for a loose ball that eventually got away from him. Even with the outcome of the game barely in question, and having put forth a valiant effort to grab the ball, he was visibly upset with himself for not completing the play. You have to admire what a warrior this guy is. With the quarter winding down, Victor Claver, who was solid all game for the Spaniards, scored a couple quick 3s to keep the Spaniards in it. They finished the quarter down 14.


Just as Melo had dominated the first half, Lebron dominated the final quarter of the game. At one point he jumped what looked like 4 or 5 feet in the air to grab a loose ball over Pau and Ibaka. It's pretty cool that Lebron's strength, leaping ability, and athleticism makes him appear just as tall as Pau on the court. 


Halfway through the fourth quarter, Kevin Love had an impressive possession where, despite being well defended, he grabbed his own offensive rebound 3 times in the same play, before ultimately getting the fingerroll to go. This was followed by two quick 3s from Lebron, and with 4 minutes to go and the US up 23, the game was over.


At this point, much to the delight of the fans, Anthony Davis got his first minutes as a member of Team USA. He didn't score, but he did have a sensational block that was easily a top-5 play of the game. It's easy to see that this guy can be a superstar in the league if he bulks up. As the final seconds ticked off the clock, I was somewhat disappointed that the game was a blowout, but also happy to have seen another display of phenomenal basketball talent. 


The last thing I was wondering was who would win Player of the Game. In my mind, the two candidates were Lebron, who had a great all around game, led the team in assists, and scored 25 points, or Melo, who was almost single-handedly responsible for giving his team a sizeable halftime advantage. In the end, the two ended up earning co-MVP honours. 


I thought that was a classy move by whoever was responsible, and it (coupled with the cheering for plays by both teams) also somewhat illustrates the difference between the two countries. While the US is obsessed with individual success and the American dream (see: F. Scott Fitzgerald), Spain, like much of Europe, is more focused on the overall success and happiness of their society. Certainly a simplification, and perhaps a stretch of an analogy, but it was the first thing that came to mind.


Maybe the biggest thing I took away from those two games: Lebron James is a freak of nature. Seeing him live, you really appreciate all the little things he does in a game, and realize what an incredibly versatile player he is. Seeing those two games was an incredible experience, and an extremely rare one. The only other time to see so much talent on the court at once is during the all-star game, which is a largely fan driven, offensive minded affair. These games were hard fought, competitive basketball games, with players competing not only for themselves and their team, but for their country. 


Hopefully Alfredo isn't too bitter about his country's loss to email me those photos he took, and I'll be able to remember the games for years to come.


Awesome stuff Alex. Stay tuned to Banter next week for a breakdown of this year's ridiculous offseason shenanigans. 

Banter: Live From Barcelona!

Banter's gone International; After a private meeting with David Stern, I managed to secure media credentials for the Olympic tune-ups in Spain and sent my best reporter on the first red-eye out to cover the action...

Jokes aside, my good friend and fellow hoop head Alex Livingston found himself in Barcelona by chance during these "friendlies", and has generously agreed to cover them for Banter, offering a rarely-seen live glimpse of top-notch International play...lest there be a need to mention the Dream Team-esque assembly of talent on the USA roster.

His first recap, from the USA/Argentina tilt a couple nights ago, offers an eclectic look at the international game from the perspective of a seasoned NBA fan seeing his first game abroad, but the real goods are yet to come: Alex has better seats for what's sure to be as intense an exhibition game as could exist; tonight's USA/Spain likely Gold Medal-preview in front of an (albeit sober) hyped Barcelona crowd. 

I'll have that recap up for you guys soon as I can, but for now, enjoy Part 1, and much thanks to Alex for taking the time to share this with us. Without further ado....

I'm in Barcelona for 2 weeks, playing poker, enjoying the beach, and exploring the city. As I was surfing Facebook late Saturday night, after a long day of poker, I stumbled across some pictures on my newsfeed of Team USA players arriving at the Barcelona airport. Having thought the team was in London with the Olympics set to get underway soon, I was confused but decided to explore further. Lucky I did; turns out team USA is in town for 2 warm-up exhibition games vs Argentina an Spain. Thirty minutes later I had a ticket to the game vs Argentina. 

I've been fortunate enough to attend my fair share of NBA games in my life - 17 games in 7 cities if my count is correct. I've seen several high profile games, including a LAC-MEM playoff game this year, and 1 NBA Finals game (ironically the worst game I've been to, LA-BOS game 6, 2010). Nonetheless, until last night I hadn't yet seen the great Kevin Durant play. Nor had I seen that other guy who's better than him. So needless to say, I was pretty pumped about the opportunity to see a team assembled of the best players in the world take on Manu Ginobli, Luis Scola, and a scattered assortment of Argentinians for the low cost of 35 euros.

I attended the game solo and arrived early, planning on having a couple of beers and getting situated in the arena. Upon arrival, I was horrified to discover that there is a nationwide law prohibiting the sale of alcohol at sporting events. For a country that allows drinking on the streets and bullfighting, I found this extremely baffling. Cursing Jermaine O'Neal and Ron Artest, I strolled towards my seats, in search of some entertainment. I immediately noticed that not only were many of the Spanish fans were donning jerseys, but a lot of the jerseys were of random NBA players not on team USA.

I eventually decided to see how many different jerseys I could identify scattered in the crowd. The most common jerseys were (in order) Kobe, Lebron, MJ, Gasol. Other jerseys I saw included: Durant, Melo, Rondo, Blake, Calderon, D-Rose, Kidd, Duncan, Ginobli, Dwight, Fernandez, Garnett, Pierce, Ray Allen, and Westbrook, Nowitzki, Monta, D-Wade, Jennings, Noah, and Anthony Davis. Easily the most obscure jersey I saw was a vintage NJ Nets Shawn Bradley.

When the USA players arrived on the court to warmup, the crowd went absolutely nuts. Each player (not just starters) was introduced by the announcer. Kobe drew by far the loudest ovation, but every team USA player and every Argentinian NBAer received a healthy applause. Argentinian non-NBAers received a faint golf clap. Both national anthems were played and it was time for tip-off.

Tyson Chandler won the tip and Kevin Durant scored the first basket of the game, an easy mid-range jumper. The US got off to a blazing start, and after 4 minutes of play, were up 19-3, with Durant and Kobe accounting for all of USA's points. Argentina was simply too slow and unathletic to stop the US, and too small and soft to generate any offense on the inside. 

It looked like Argentina was going to get pummelled the way the Shambala School did when it faced H.G.S. in the ACIS soccer tournament. However, Argentina called a timeout and regrouped. The most impressive player for either team in the first half: Luis Scola. Scola led an Argentinian charge for the rest of the half, getting to the rim, drawing fouls, fighting for rebounds, and inspiring a more concerted effort from his teammates. Meanwhile, the US seemed content to hang onto their big lead.

With about 3 minutes to go in the first half, Scola and Lebron (who had been quiet thus far) got into a confrontation that turned physical for a second. The two started shoving each other, and for a second it looked like it might escalate, but teammates quickly intervened. I was surprised to see something like that in an international exhibition game, but at least it showed the players were competing. Argentina somehow got 4 consecutive free throws and the ball after the scrap. I have no idea why this happened. I even checked the box score after the game and neither team was assigned any technical fouls.

By halftime, Argentina had cut the defect to 47-41. Still, it seemed inevitable that the game was out of reach. Lebron could take over the game at any point he so chose, but had instead been content to distribute and let Durant and Kobe do the scoring. By halftime, everyone except Unibrow, Beard, and White Guy had seen some action.

One thing I always hate about going to a sports game is taking a piss at halftime. I don't like crowds, and I don't like lines, and trying to take a piss normally involves a healthy dose of both. It took me three or four minutes to find signs for a bathroom, so I expected to see a massive line. Not only was there no line, but there wasn't a single person in the bathroom. I kid you not - it was completely empty. I'm not sure if this was a function of the no-beer law or if Spaniads just don't urinate, but in any event I was quite relieved (x2).

At the beginning of the second half, there was a slightly scary moment where Ginobli jumped up and grabbed Lebron around the neck in an effort to prevent a fastbreak. Lebron fell awkwardly but seemed to be ok. It looked like a minimum Flagrant 1, but the refs just called a regular foul. That incident seemed to motivate Lebron, and he was sensational from that point forward.

About a minute later, Lebron brought the crowd to the feet with a powerful one-hander off of a (thematic) Melo missed jumper. No more than fifteen seconds later, Kobe fed Lebron for an even more impressive oop, which was probably the highlight of the game. Somehow, the dunk wasn't shown on the replay screen, which was disappointing. Lebron's passing was perhaps the most impressive part of his game, as he completed several beautiful cross-court no-look passes, and one lob to Durant that rivalled his own dunk for the best play of the game. His court vision and awareness of his teammates was incredible all game. Scola had a poor third quarter, but Ginobli kept the Argentinians in the game, with some help from some people who's names I don't remember. 

As the US built a 15 point lead in the early fourth quarter, the US finally brought Kevin Love on the floor, after going small most of the game (at one point their lineup was Williams-Westbrook-Lebron-Anthony-Durant). Around this time Ginobli started going crazy, scoring 8 points in about 2 minutes with a layup, 3-pointer, followed by a typical acrobatic Ginobli 3-point play. Meanwhile, the US was continuing to impress with crisp passing, fastbreak opportunities, and all-around athleticism, but were failing to drain shots they'd normally make. 

For some reason they were settling for jumpers (Durant, to his credit, was draining them, Melo was not), when they could've scored on the inside on almost every possession. Tyson Chandler's not known as a highly skilled offensive player, but he had an undeniable size advantage on the Argentinian defensive bigs, and Lebron could've got to the hole on almost any possession. Ginobli's efforts coupled with the USA's bricks meant that with 2 minutes left, the lead was down to 4.

However, Durant and CP3 drained a couple quick 3s, and the game was out of reach. Durant was presented a well-deserved Player of the Game, having scored a very efficient 27 points. It definitely wasn't the most competitive basketball game I've been to, nor was the crowd the loudest or more intense. Nontheless, it was an awesome experience. Lebron was simply incredible when he wanted to be, and seeing him live makes you realize what an insane freak of nature he is physically.

Having the game played at a neutral site was also cool, because it meant that the fans were rooting for good basketball and individual plays, rather than just fostering a stubborn bias towards the home team. Bad calls were booed against either team, and good plays rewarded with applause sizes according to their merit. Always having been a fan of the game and specific players moreso than a fan of a particular team (I have about 5 teams I root for in the NBA), I couldn't ask for a better experience.


And the best news is, I scored a ticket to USA vs SPAIN tmrw!


Sounds like quite the time. Tune in for Part 2 tomorrow...

New World Order - Miami Changes the Game

Now that we've all had a couple days to digest Lebron James being an NBA Champion, there's a much bigger issue lingering in the aftermath of his victory: the fact that the "bad guys" won. These NBA Finals were as close as you could come to a battle of Good vs. Evil in the NBA; like the Avengers movie they so relentlessly (and horribly) tried to tie into the early Playoff rounds. And dammit did Captain America ever just get the shit kicked out of him. Regardless of what you want to argue about Lebron, Wade, Bosh, hell even Erik Spoelstra's personal merits, Miami represents a troubling trend...

Small market teams are already at an inherent disadvantage in the NBA; getting the short end of the proverbial stick in a league that's expanded too quickly and diluted its talent pool, doesn't share revenue, and has shown a disturbing lack of initiative in keeping its teams in one place. 

The obvious irony is that the Thunder - the ostensible "good guys" in this case - arrived in Oklahoma City through a sleazy underhanded pillaging that robbed a deserving fanbase in Seattle of its favorite team. But what happened once Clay Bennett brought the Thunder there (except for going with his 2nd-grade son's art project as a logo) almost was good enough to justify it. The Thunder's fans were amazing, and not in a "We're really drunk and pumped for live sports!!" way like Memphis' GrindHouse faithful, but in a "This city badly needs a positive identity to unite around" way, and they cheered relentlessly, every night, showing a bond with their team unseen in pro sports. The only strike against them is that they're SO good, their team often appears a shell of itself on the road.

Meanwhile, behind the scenes, Sam Presti was being the shrewdest GM in the League. Sure, he got handed a once-in-a-generation player, but he also drafted James Harden and Russell Westbrook when they were far from no-brainers. He unearthed Serge Ibaka. He acquired Nick Collison and Thabo Sefolosha, inexpensive pieces that rounded out his lineup nicely. He hired a pretty good coach. He never panicked, let his team develop together,work hard, improve every year, and break through to the Finals on an epic run after mowing down the three teams that had represented the West in every Finals for the last twelve years. The guy who led them was an ideal superstar; humble, unselfish, had devoted his entire career to winning basketball games, and nothing else. Simply put, you couldn't find a more deserving team in the NBA. 

And then there's Miami.

While the Boston Celtics of 2008 (and likely the Spurs before them) birthed this newfound notion of needing three superstars to win an NBA Championship, the Heat took things to a whole new level. What happened in Boston was 85% a shrewd assembly by Danny Ainge, bringing together three aging legends who were hungry for the title that had eluded them...And 15% Kevin McHale gift-wrapping his best player for his former team (#CelticPride). What happened in Miami, well...shit...can YOU ever think of a time when three of the League's best players all "happened" to be free agents together, out of the same Draft no less (not insinuating anything, just calling facts facts), and signed with the same team? No, because it's never happened before. People were justified in calling it a "short cut" out of initial shock because there was no precedent against which to measure it; it just seemed sleazy and unfair, like they were destined to win (only it took them a season to figure it out because these three guys generally complemented each other like a bad hangover, Wild Turkey, and work). The guy who led them was a formerly arrogant young man who'd been gifted with the greatest physical composition and skill set ever for the game of basketball, but became so consumed with the bullshit surrounding it that he - in his own words - had to "hit rock bottom" before he could rediscover his passion for the game. Simply put, you couldn't find a less deserving team in the NBA. 

And even before they won, you could see unhealthy trends developing:

After fanning on Lebron, the Knicks have already fucked themselves trying to form their own Big 3; two-thirds there with the only foundation that could possibly make less sense than the Bosh/Wade/James lineup, and just not that great of a team. 

The Lakers tried to keep pace and land Chris Paul, somehow invoking the intervention of David Stern, who thought he could step in and denounce the trade. This obviously angered the Lakers, and their legions of fans, called some legitimacy to those conspiracy theorists that said the fix was on, and made the NBA's commissioner look  weak and lost.

Meanwhile, there's an absolute spending frenzy running amok while teams prepare to compete with this inevitable shitstorm of talent stockpiling. Nene just got near-max money. Deandre Jordan just got near-max money. People are realistically talking about James Harden getting a Boss Contract out of pure necessity. Already! DIDN'T WE JUST HAVE A FUCKING LOCKOUT BECAUSE OF THIS SHIT?!?!

South Florida is now sure to take on a role in the NBA much like it does in the Real World: a haven for veterans to chase rings and have fun at the end of their careers. Pat Riley will have his pick of quality againg players willing to barter money for glory at the salary table as this apparent dynasty evolves, which is already tilting the scales even further against already-oppressed small-market teams that aren't managed as well as the Thunder, and whose fans just don't care as much. 

Teams like Milwaukee, Charlotte and Portland (despite who owns them...) just don't have the financial firepower to go over the cap and compete with these superstar legions. Hell, even Oklahoma City, for all their tactically sound drafting and spending, faces big questions about how to keep their core intact going forward. It's cute that Miami's trio took pay cuts - you know, because Lebron James is really hard up for money - to play together, but they did the right thing for the wrong reasons; they fucked up the game. Talent like that is supposed to consume your entire roster, and for a team like the Heat - who just sold out an entire playoff run, sold untold fortunes in merchandise, and are on the verge of signing a TV deal in the $80-$100 million range - to absorb more talent will be pennies in couch cushions for the same sums that could bankrupt the Hornets. 

If things continue this way and really get out of hand; if the big markets continue to stockpile the best available talent, leaving the Underlings to gamble on lottery balls and un-trendy free agent signings, then the NBA can only suffer. The regular season will be a wash. The early rounds of the Playoffs will be formalities. Teams will continue to bleed money, move, and fold while fans lose interest and Skip Bayless annoys us. 

I'm not trying to play Nostradamus here. I'm a fan of the game above all else, and want what's best for the NBA. And as such, this trend scares me; a League that so quickly went from talking about overseas expansion to local contraction may have a problem growing beyond their control. There's only so much BRI to go around; and if a shrinking talent pool available to smaller markets continues to go up in price, then it's only a matter of time before the stands start to empty in some arenas.

When the Finals matchup was determined, it was set in stone that either the epitome of building a team the right way or the wrong way was going to be validated with a Championship. "Good vs. Evil". And Evil winning couldn't look much worse. 

Hate Me Now: A Tyrant Becomes a King

Well, it's happened. Lebron James has won an NBA Title.

Thing is, he didn't arrive here the way I'm sure he thought he would when he "took his talents to South Beach".

At first it was all fun & games, sunny with no chance of showers; even as the Haterade hit them from all angles, Lebron and his new team kept being their jovial, juvenile selves, blissfully ignorant to the trials they were facing. But the boisterous welcome party and arrogant comportment eventually gave way to not only to trepidation, but failure. The demon inside the Dallas Mavericks that the Heat awoke with their silly celebrations late in the 4th Quarter of the 2011 Finals' Game 2 had haunted them - particularly James - incessantly. Until last night.

This redemption wasn't just brought about by fluke coincidence or divine intervention; the Heat had to learn some lessons. Chris Bosh had to learn to get physical and body up on the boards. Dwyane Wade had to learn that he's not the man anymore, a tough pill to swallow. Erik Spoelstra had to learn a thing or two about half-court sets and in-game adjustments, and proved his prowess in these Finals. But mostly, Lebron had to learn to develop that killer instinct; that unflappable swagger carried by a guy who knows he's the best basketball player alive and isn't going to let his team lose.

In the second round against Indiana, down 2-1 and facing more of the scrutiny from the unrelenting Haters, Lebron put his team on his back while it was firmly against the ropes, delivered one of the greatest playoff performances ever, and never really looked back. He played out of his mind the past few weeks (remember who we're talking about here, the guy who perpetually bored us w/ 27/7/7 in regular seasons past), and really proved himself to be worthy of the Crown.

It finally fits.

And not just because Lebron was able to exorcise those Dallas Demons and deliver on the biggest stage; he underwent a total emancipation over the past year, one that consumed not only his game, but his entire being. He matured; he humbled; he evolved. Gone was the kid who mocked Dirk's sickness in the Finals, rocked his own "MVP" tees and embarrassed himself on Twitter every week. In his place was a visibly pacified young man, almost stoic in the midst of all the incessant hatred he faced; one that the entire team pointed to as their leader. He corralled them for a memorable statement of support after the Trayvon Martin shooting; one that drew light to a massive social media trend. He punked off his own team's security at an airport after they denied photos and autographs to fans in the US Military, telling them to step aside and making the whole team get up and sign. And he won the Heat a lot of basketball games by himself, unleashing the most multi-faceted dominance in the history of the NBA.

I said this last year about Dirk, and I'll say it again now, if Lebron James didn't impress you over the past few weeks, then Fuck Off - you're too hard to please. This was a transcendent performance on many levels; Lebron's faced ludicrously high expectations since he came into the public eye, and until his enigmatic collapse vs. Boston in 2010, had always managed to somehow exceed them. After pretty much everybody spent the past two seasons directing all their negative energy at him, we've been too blinded by our own biased emotion to remember why we did it. Because Lebron's become someone different; he's become that player that we always expected him to be: a gracious winner who definitively led his team to a Title. It didn't happen the way we thought it would, hell it didn't happen the way Lebron thought it would either. But after a tumultuous detour, he quickly put himself back on course to claim his Crown. It should cover up that hairline nicely.

I wrote this about Lebron almost two years ago; September '10 as the Heat prepared for their first training camp A.D. (Anno Decision):  it's easy and trendy to hate Lebron now, but it was also trendy (and much easier) to hate Kobe Bryant at one point, and ten times less fathomable that he'd bounce back. Let's let the Heat go do their thing for a bit; let this summer's madness subside. Don't forget that underneath this alleged monster is the best basketball player alive. He's got a fresh team - one that's far more talented than any he's been on - and plenty of critics to silence. We can shower Lebron James in Haterade all we want, but when him and D-Wade have their own Court Cuts segment every week, when the Heat win 60+, and when the King can finally hoist the Larry O and rest easy on his throne, it'll be hard for him to feel a single drop.


I'm sure plenty of people don't agree with me; that Lebron's still going to get hated on plenty.


But you could tell this year he was a Man On Fire, consumed with getting his team a Title. And he did.


So rest assured, he doesn't give a fuck. 

Clash of the Titans

So it comes to this.

A seven game bout between the two best teams in NBA, led by its two best players, seeking the ultimate goal.

These two superstars contrast each other as starkly as the teams they lead: a humble, quiet, almost passive-aggressive hipster at the head of a shrewdly-cobbled, well-developed Draft Machine, facing the sleazily concocted South Beach Dark Empire, and the arrogant, dominant Chosen One who despite being one of the most heavily-scrutinized people on the face of the Earth, is still largely an enigma to us.

There's much to be said about this series, and clearly on many levels it promises to be a thrilling conclusion to one of the best NBA postseasons - hell, seasons - ever. Either the epitome of the successful small-market model or trendy superstar-hoarding will be validated with a championship, and Lebron or Durant will win his first ring. While this matchup figures to focus on its two stars, there's much more to it, so let's break it down...

(I'd like to officially note that I'm not buying any "Lebron Choked!" nonsense from last year's finals. I'm writing this under the assumption that he's mentally much stronger - which the only evidence we've seen all year points to - and we're in for a much more standard Lebron showing. Any attempt to dissect this further would be convoluted and unnecessary because nobody else knows what's going on inside Lebron James' head and can aptly assume if he's truly ready.)

The Westbrook Factor - If the WCF proved anything, it's that the Thunder are a much more dangerous team down the stretch of close games when Russ is in Mark Jackson mode and letting Durant handle the scoring. This has been painfully obvious for a couple of years now, but Westbrook finally seems to have gotten the hint himself, and the Thunder are in the Finals because of it. Their chances here hinge slightly on his ability to continue doing this, and to attack an often-exposed rim instead of settling for pullup jumpers. He's the perfect kind of player to put Dwyane Wade in foul trouble, but he's going to have to be selective and keep himself out of overdrive. When Westy dominates the ball and shot chart late, the Thunder suffer, and this series will be too close for them to give that up.


"The Other Guys" - Although what still might be Dwyane Wade's city is now home to Lebron James' basketball team, Wade will have to come up big consistently for Miami to take this home. He's thrown up several offensive disasters already these playoffs, punctuated by his continued facade as a three-point threat. Although this series figures to feature a lot more transition ball than we're used to in the playoffs - which definitely suits Wade and James - close games are sure to slow down in the clutch, and they'll have to be executing well off-the-ball, or else OKC's bigs can easily clog the lane if Miami tries to go 1-on-5, and we all saw how that went last year...

Likewise, this is a crucial series for Chris Bosh, not only in that has to consistently hit shots to keep Ibaka/Collison/whoever honest enough to stay away from Lebron/Wade penetration, but regardless of OKC's lineup, will spend a lot of time fighting against physical off-the-ball play he's been at times reluctant to face head-on. He's developed a "fake tough guy" label, certainly in the seldom-spoken mind of Kevin Durant, and will surely be targeted by the Thunder bigs on the glass.

The Extras from "The Other Guys" - If Miami's supporting cast sucks, they're screwed. It's as simple as that. They went to Game 7 against Boston with sporadic performances, and OKC's just a much better team. Shane Battier will have to be defensively brilliant when matched up with Durant. Joel Anthony will have to battle bigger, better players on the glass, and somehow also protect the rim. Mario Chalmers will have to play his best defense, hit shots when needed and exist within the flow of the offense. Mike Miller will have to channel his 2004 self. All of this will have to occur with relative perpetuity, or this series will not go to a Game 7.

Tempo Control - Obviously both of these teams can score easily and thrive in transition, but the Thunder possess an advantage in that they're also very dangerous in the halfcourt, while Miami's still kinda figuring that one out. If they can keep the pace relatively slow, take care of the ball, and prevent the long rebounds that will let the Heat get out on the break (this means you Russell), the flow should play out in their favor.

Protecting the House - While this is an obvious concern for Miami (no sense in beating a dead horse), it becomes a serious question for the Thunder. Serge Ibaka's proven to be the ultimate help defender when players are slowed down by Kendrick Perkins near the hoop, but without any legitimate post threats on Miami's roster, the temptation may be to go small and play fast, which, tying into the above point, would probably play into Miami's hands. Keeping Perkins in the game not only allows Ibaka to play a more natural role, but keeps the best rim-protection in the series around against Wade and James. This slows things down, forces more Heat jump-shooting, and gives them an indomitable edge on the glass. I hope Scott Brooks sees this.

Clutch City - Perhaps the Thunder's greatest advantage lies in Durant's consistent ability to deliver monster performances down the stretch of big games. He's an ace in the hole, a guy who has never shied away from taking or hitting, not only "the big shot", but many "big shots" in succession against good defenders. People can argue all day about Lebron's clutch ability; allow his past preferences to let an open teammate shoot rather than force up over double-coverage skew them into thinking he isn't very dangerous in the clutch (and much more matured and motivated than he was this time last year), but with Durant, we're seeing the definition of Clutch; potentially one of the best of all time. While Lebron is capable of taking over games in a multitude of ways, Durant's poison has still proven to be more lethal, and after how casually he made his decimation of San Antonio look, I fear for what might be in store for Miami. Regardless of how well they defend the perimeter, this guy can give anybody nightmares, and he doesn't even have to for them to win.

OKC's got depth, homecourt, and a couple matchup options to exploit even if Lebron and Wade come out in "Man On Fire" mode, which is why I see plenty of Seattle basketball fans sending angry Tweets at Clay Bennett while watching a Title Parade on TV in a couple weeks. Thunder in 6.

Fun Police: The Refs and Knowing Your Role

There's a serious problem visibly eating away at the integrity of the NBA.

No, it's not PED abuse, nor is it fighting and injury scandal; the typical type of topics plaguing professional sports. Nor is it thuggery and violence, the kind of issues that cynics blindly point to as prevalent because their rare instances make headlines. And as ridiculous as it's becoming, it's not even the laziness/incompetence that's slowly corrupting the League's award process.

This one is right in front of our eyes: The refs are stealing the show. David Stern's let the Elephants out of the pen, and we're all suffering because of it.

They're blowing calls. They're making inconsistent rulings. They're wildly suppressing emotion with the ever-looming threat of the dreaded T-Bomb, and in the worst cases, taking the game out of the players' hands in the most crucial moments. It's over-zealous. It's obstructive. It's bullshit. It's been subtly happening for years, but this season, it's getting intolerably out of hand.

Things hit a boiling point last night when veteran official Dan Crawford felt the need to set an authoritative tone in the ECF with three early T's on the Celtics over a seven minute-span; all for seemingly innocent, natural reactions during the course of an intense Playoff game. On the next dead ball, an irately perplexed Doc Rivers -clearly trying to calm every searing nerve in his body - approached the official seeking reason, but fell on deaf ears and crossed arms as Crawford stood there without even acknowledging him. Go Home Team! Clearly Crawford needed to get over himself last night; remember that players are allowed to dislike a call and that his role is to maintain a balanced, impartial playing field. Instead he, and far too many other refs, have seemingly formed a reckless Gestapo of dubiousness.

The irrelevant question is whether this is a result of David Stern over or under-exerting his control over the refs. The obvious answer is that he needs to, for lack of a more eloquent delivery, tighten his shit up.

The NBA was very lucky to escape the Donaghy Saga with as little damage as they did, despite his repeated attempts to expose what he alleged was referee corruption on a much larger scale. The consequent efforts to ease the minds of pundits and conspiracy theorists, hell to assure all of us that the refs are on the up and up, has been sluggish to be generous. It's understandable that calls get fucked up, but not to such an extent, and not when the games matter most, and as such, the most eyes are on the NBA.

What happened last night manages to delve even deeper: Referees holding such an Orwellian grip on a game's course compromises a large part of basketball's appeal. It's an emotional game: not only does it nearly-perfectly combine strength and agility in a momentous, swing-heavy competition, but players are much more personable; exposed fully without pads, helmets and visors. The NBA delivering its best product depends on these players being fully invested in the contest; not perpetually concerned about lingering whistles.

It's time to let the players play. Hopefully whoever manages the @NBA Twitter account caught wind of all the hysteria last night. And hopefully that person isn't a total pushover. Because the League can only suffer if nothing's done.

How The West Was Won: WCF Preview

This was supposed to be a thrilling postseason: An all-out battle royale, with no de-facto favorite, poised to go down as the best spring of basketball us hoops junkies almost never had. Unfortunately, by the end of its first game, a rare Tom Thibodeau coaching blunder had rendered one Conference nearly obsolete for weeks, and left much of the focus where we'd grown accustomed to having it: The West.

Fittingly, because emerging from that bracket are the two teams playing unquestionably the best ball right now; the two that many see hoisting the Larry O in the very near future. The Spurs and Thunder have taken two distinctly different paths to this Western Conference Final, and their convergence pits two different styles of basketball against each other: it's youth vs. experience, athleticism vs. IQ, momentum vs. discipline, star power vs. depth, Jedis vs. The Empire, you get the idea...

There's so many things going on that will make this series compelling: Not only are the Thunder vying to keep up with the ridiculously fast pace they've set for themselves by breaking through to the Finals, the Spurs are on the cusp of something truly inconceivable, threatening to win a fifth title in 13 seasons with Duncan/Pop, which in terms of longevity of dominance, is simply unmatched in modern-era team sports.

Beyond that, Kevin Durant and Tim Duncan are at very important crossroads in their respective legacies. This is bar none the most important series of Durant's career, and he has the right mix of talent and swagger to make this his moment now that his team's supposed to be the favorite. I say "supposed to" because, let's face it, San Antonio was nowhere near the Title picture a few months ago, and their presence here is the ultimate testament to Popovich and Duncan's brilliance (sure, Parker's been their best player this year, but make no mistake, Timmy D still leads this team). If Duncan cops the full fist of rings, it will only elevate his rank in the NBA's All-Time Pantheon (word to Bill Simmons), and truly render his status as the best power forward ever inarguable (if it isn't already).

On paper, this series figures to be a lot about the point guards, which is probably deceiving. Parker and Westbrook are two amazing players who are going to make huge contributions, but if you're expecting a duel between them to swing things, you're in for disappointment. Not only will their contributions likely come close to cancelling each other out in the run of things, but despite Westbrook's stubbornness and desire for revenge (after Tony dropped 42 on him), odds are they'll spend little time matched up. With other defensively-apt guards who probably match up better on D, it would make sense for both players to save energy (and fouls) not chasing the other around all series. Instead, look for the West Finals to be defined by:

Kevin Durant - OK, so this is kind of obvious. Not only is he the best player in this series, but the Spurs have absolutely no answer for him offensively. He can expect a Kawhi Leonard-led bevy of defensive schemes, and generally better team contention than he faced vs. LA. But what Durant needs to do in this series, is take the fuck over; channel his inner Kobe and unleash. San Antonio has depth on this team for days, and their true edge lies with KD. I fear for his inability to grab the wheel of what Westbrook will surely see as his own moment; they've come this far with things falling into place, but it might be time for Durant to put them there.

Tim Duncan - Timmy was kept fresh as possible for the playoffs through the unusually dense regular season, and it's showing. He's been awesome, and as intimidating as the Thunder's post D might be, Duncan's pretty much a nightmare matchup for them: a guy who's very comfortable posting up away from the hoop, with a complete arsenal of moves, and smart enough to pass out of Ibaka's lurking help coverage. If he can pick his spots when he's forced into the trenches and avoid getting Gasol'd like in last year's first round, Timmy could give OKC all kinds of problems.

James Harden's Beard - As brilliant as Harden's been this season (and really, on a historical level, you're talking Ginobili and McHale who've had better seasons in the 6thMOY's history) this will be his ultimate test,  because his ability to quell San Antonio's depth might be the most important factor in this series. Even if Durant doesn't give them 30+ per, OKC can still win if Harden does what Harden does, and calmly counter-acts the Jax/Manu combo that Thabo Sefolosha just can't balance out both ways. There's really no reason to expect he won't, but like Durant, Harden's consistent brilliance might have to even find another gear the way the Spurs are playing right now, which brings us to....

Gregg Popovich - This man is a genius. It doesn't get highlighted enough, but any coach in the League right now is at an automatic disadvantage against him. He's quite comfortably the best X n O's guy in the NBA, and the united, unselfish mentality he imparts upon his players produces maximum on-court efficiency. There's a reason why the Spurs have excelled for so long with the same core in place and a revolving door of players around them; Pop finds the right talent, who will buy into their system, and constructs a near-flawless gameplan based on the skills in front of him. He will outsmart Scott Brooks at several points during every game of this series, and there's very little to be done about it. He's the Bill Belichick of basketball - only he doesn't cheat. And he gives the best post-game presser ever. I'd pay more money than I have to talk ball over beers with him for an hour, only I know there's no chance he could be bothered to.

The Pick & Roll - Both of these teams thrive on it; one of them defends it very well. OKC will be at a decided disadvantage with Ibaka defending high screens - despite his fearsome low-post presence, his quickness/orientation will be exposed in those sets, while the Spurs need only worry about Durant's length on switches (but when is Durant's length ever not an issue?) and Westbrook's explosiveness (again, pretty much unavoidable). If Ibaka spends too much time stranded on high screens, look for Nick Collison's minutes to spike, because you know San Antonio's going to be executing flawlessly.

The X-Factors - Benches: Critical in any series, but in this one more than most. The Spurs can go ten deep with capable scorers, and OKC well...can't. It's going to take not only an impressive effort from Harden to balance the scales, but airtight defense around the hoop. There's going to be a lot of onus on Collison to defend Duncan/Diaw, as Perkins is too slow for them, and Ibaka's too hyperactive. At the same time, all OKC's bigs are going to have to rotate well against arguably the best-passing corps of big men in the League, and be prepared for relentless attacking from Parker, and to a lesser extent Ginobili. Kawhi Leonard and Action Jackson are likewise going to have to defend Kevin Durant very well; he's long, he's quick, he's the best clutch scorer in the NBA (and it's not even close let's not kid ourselves) and the momentous dynasty-toppling wave he's riding right now has a Jordan-esque series written all over it if they're not top-notch.

All considered, there seems to be too much going San Antonio's way for me to bet against them. True, they haven't demolished opposition of a quality quite like OKC's so far this spring, but the Spurs aren't some untested, volatile squad that's going to lose its shit if they split at home. They're too composed, too deep, too thorough, to have the wheels come off in any significant way. The Thunder are certainly capable of pulling off what I can't really call an upset, but it seems like there's a few more ifs on their side of the equation. Regardless, this should be one hell of a good series, and I'm hoping for the potential of something memorable to deliver, so with my heart and my head: Spurs in 7.

Grizzly Watch

I never would've expected that a night of my drunken observations about the Memphis Grizzlies would land me a permanent gig, but sure enough, somebody thinks my ramblings are worthy of some more ink.


I was contacted over the weekend by an editor from HoopsAddict.com, who had stumbled across my report from Game 2, apparently wasn't appalled, and, in need of someone to cover the Grizz, dropped me a line. There was obvious irony to this happening during the game that eliminated Memphis from the playoffs, so my first task was to come up with a Season-in-Review type piece, which I figured I'd toss up here to bridge the gap between where I've come from and going as an NBA blogger. I'll be updating regularly on the Grizz for HoopsAddict next season (weekly updates, notes from big games, etc) but my need to rage about all things NBA will never die; Banter's not going anywhere.


I'm pretty sure this will be up on HoopsAddict soon, but here's an un-edited exclusive sneak peek for Banter's loyal followers:

It really wasn't supposed to end this way. This early.

I know how strange that sounds - I mean, we're talking about the Memphis Grizzlies, the team that waywardly wandered away from Vancouver and seemed as out of place in the NBA as a Grizzly bear in the city of Memphis - but this season was supposed to be different.
Yet here we are - mere months removed from the "Western Dark Horse" and "Think About How Dangerous They'll be With Rudy Gay" talk - and the Grizz are cleaning out their lockers prematurely yet again, with plenty of question marks and a 27-point cumulus cloud hanging over their offseason.

Where did it all go wrong? Unfortunately for Memphis' intensely passionate fans (Beale St. doesn't mess around pre-game), there's no obvious scapegoat; no clear target for index fingers, other than the one no team can avoid: fate. It was obvious that the Grizz were going to have to make some adjustments in welcoming back a dynamic talent like Rudy Gay back to a system that propelled them past the Spurs and to within a game of the Western Conference Finals last spring. But the full-on identity crisis Memphis was set up for when Darrell Arthur, and then worse yet Zach Randolph, went down for large stretches, would ultimately condemn their season.

Like any self-respecting, competitive team, they didn't roll over; they adjusted, adapted, but hardly evolved. Despite Marreese Speights' solid efforts to fill the rebounding and scoring voids left in the frontcourt, the team was thinner, weaker; forced to stray from the post-oriented offense and punishing transition game that defined their success. They were winning games; staying above water for Randolph's return, but they were also getting comfortable outside their own skin. Grizzlies in sheep's clothing. Rudy Gay and OJ Mayo were scoring most of their points; Marc Gasol was shouldering more of a load on the glass, facing more attention on D than he ever had, and fighting off even more bodies for rebounds (and still made the All-Star team); Mike Conley got more comfortable looking for his shot than looking for a man on the block; and the vaunted energy of their bench looked suddenly languid.

In what was already a season of many adjustments for every NBA player and team, the Grizzlies had to re-create themselves yet again when Randolph returned - this time to share the scoring load with Gay - just in time for the playoffs.

That the postseason began with a completely anomalous, unlikely, historic, and utterly soul-crushing collapse (one that was cued by Chris Paul forcing Vinny Del Negro to put him back in the game during the 4th, to be fuelled by series of three-point bombs from Nick Young and gritty hustle from Reggie Evans, two noted playoff assassins) didn't help matters. Starting a series with such an epic swing of momentum surely took the wind out of their lungs, but the Grizzlies weren't ever truly out of it, only they waited until their backs were against the wall, down 3-1, to move their attack closer to the hoop and truly abuse their edge. They managed to force Game 7, but couldn't close the deal; it wasn't too little, just too late.

And so ends their 2012 season; not as it was supposed to, but what should've been can't change what is... So what will become of these Grizzlies?

The obvious dilemma going forward will be Rudy Gay's role/presence on this team. As recently as 18 months ago, he was given a generous contract and pegged as their Franchise Guy; there's no denying Gay's talent. You also can't deny this truth; the Grizzlies - with largely the same lineup - went a fair bit deeper in the playoffs, against tougher competition, without him last year. And in the games that saved Memphis' season, Gasol and Randolph carried the bulk of the load.

Logic would certainly point to moving Gay; he's versatile, he's athletic, he performed well last season and probably hasn't hit his cieling yet; but he's like Memphis used to seem in the NBA: just out of place. His trade value might never be higher again, there's a ton of money tied up in him, and when you consider what he could bring back: a more functional upgrade at the point, bench scoring that isn't OJ Mayo (who the Grizz seemingly can't wait to get rid of), a legit post presence to shore  Randolph and Gasol (hell, bring Mayo/Conley into the fold and Chris Wallace could probably get all of the above) it's hard to ignore.  It would be a dramatic move, but "dramatic" could also describe the 27-point meltdown that arguably could've cost Memphis a trip to the Second Round. To quote a sage old man (Jaffar from Aladdin, don't sleep): "Desperate time calls for desperate measures". The Thunder aren't getting much older anytime soon.

So the offseason looms, with much at stake. The return of Darrell Arthur will only help bolster Memphis' questionable bench and restore the swagger that once took the NBA by storm, but if the Grizzlies want to stop swimming upstream, he shouldn't be the only thing to change about this roster. Maybe trading Rudy Gay isn't the way the franchise wants to go; I called Wallace crazy when he gave Pau Gasol away, but that seemed to work out, so who knows what he has up his sleeve. One thing's for sure: After a season of adjustments that moved them backwards, it's time to adjust again, and hopefully continue to move forward.

Got It Twisted: The MVP Ballots

Well, what we long suspected is official: Lebron James has etched his name in another Podoloff trophy, cementing his legacy among the greatest in NBA history, and making him likely, already, the best player to not have won a title. But not only should we be celebrating Lebron's maturation instead of still slighting him for last season, there isn't much to really talk about here; Lebron completely dominated every possible facet of a basketball game this year (even slightly improving his Achilles-esque free throw shooting) and as good as Kevin Durant, Chris Paul, and yes even Kobe were this year, if you don't think Lebron deserves the MVP, then you don't deserve a say in who gets these awards. In fact, one apparent "expert" gave Queen James a fifth-place vote (and another a fourth) which just hurts my brain trying to put into words, so after about ten minutes, I've pretty much given up.

The NBA intentionally allows voters to vaguely interpret "Value" by not setting out specific criteria. While this sparks debate, curiosity, and competition, it also promotes lunacy and bias, allowing for some completely dubious selections, and subsequent fodder for verbal warfare. While I wish the minds that decided these matters were keen enough to steer such an important task through abstraction, it's highly obvious that they need to be kept on a tighter leash, as evidenced not only by Lebron's anomalous 5-slot, but by the following examples of utter ridiculousness:

Dwight Howard - 3rd (1), 4th (1), 5th (5)

This might seem a bit hypocritical; I gave Howard the DPOY a few weeks ago without holding his year's worth of shenanigans against him. I tried to separate his immature mentality from his on-court performance, and felt that even at 75%, he was still he best defender in the League this year, his constant ability to alter a team's gameplan by mere presence still resonating. But this is a whole different story. Let's talk about "Value", principally defined by Merriam Webster as 'a fair return or equivalent in good, services, or money, for something exchanged'.  

The Orlando Magic paid Dwight Howard $17,149,243 this year to help them win an NBA championship. Instead of play his hardest and focus on the team, as he should, Howard half-assed it, coasting through games, expanding nothing about his game, having an obvious disconnect with his teammates, and committing more to his Twitter account than the Magic organization. All year this went on; you could call it pretentious if people weren't eating InDecision up like McNuggets. We thought it had finally come to an end when Howard re-upped at the deadline......But no. After already handcuffing the Magic's ability to build for the future for entire year, Dwight then sought to re-model the team in his eye, beginning with the attempted covert mid-season offing of Stan Van Gundy. As usual, Howard didn't handle things very smoothly and the news became public, creating an awkward rift that conveniently led to his first prolonged injury absence ever and the end of his time in Orlando, as they bowed out of the Playoffs' first round. Aside from being by far the most irritating, Dwight Howard was, at least by some definitions, the least valuable player in the NBA this season. 

Derrick Rose - 3rd (1) 

Not sure what logic led to this selection (likely a couple draught and an Illinois area code), but it's pretty mind-numbing. Derrick Rose is a very good basketball player; the reigning MVP and a consensus Top-10 player. That being said, if you were a die-hard Bulls fan who'd just awoken from a coma, and immediately asked how the Bulls did this year, if I told you Derrick Rose sat out almost half of this season, I could take everything you own on a bet that they tied for the League's best record. Not only is it ridiculous to be giving a vote to a player who spent as much time in Versace as Adidas, this season proved, if anything,    Chicago's a lot better without Rose than any of us thought. 

Dirk Nowitzki - 4th (1), 5th (1)

OK, Dirk put a ring on it, and he was amazing, we all saw. This year? Granted, he was coming back from an offseason of injury recovery and admitted complacency, but let's look at the raw numbers (I hate leaning on stats but this is an easy way to prove a redundant argument): Dirk averaged 21.6 ppg/6.7 rpg this season, shooting .457 from the field. You've gotta dig back to 99-00 - Diggler's second season - to find lower scoring and rebound averages, and he hasn't shot so poorly since his rookie season. The Mavs finished seventh in the West. And two people with the power to alter the course of basketball's most important regular season award think he was a top-five player this year? ......Yeahhhh, fuck off.

Tim Duncan - 4th (1)

This just kinda makes me laugh. All due respect to Tim Duncan and his legendary career, but I can't even really take this seriously, so I'm going to have some fun here; let's lean on more stats: If Brandon Jennings, DeMarcus Cousins, Chris Bosh, Antawn Jamison, Demar DeRozan, Paul Millsap, Tyreke Evans, John Wall, Ty Lawson and Ryan Anderson averaged more points than you did this season, while playing fewer minutes than Hedo Turkoglu, Jared Dudley, Gordon Hayward, Marco Benlinelli, Alonzo Gee, Chandler Parsons and Zaza Pachulia, then you have no place on the MVP ballot. Some moron looked at San Antonio in first place, saw the forest for the trees, then clear-cut the entire thing with his giant theoretical bulldozer.  

Joe Johnson - 5th (1) 

After getting a good giggle in, this just kind of depresses me. It's sad for so many reasons: Joe Johnson's constantly playing at about 85-90%; the Hawks are paying him wayyyy too much money to lead them into a purgatory of mediocrity; Josh Smith has to endure yet another reminder of how much his season was slept on, and Larry Drew will have to deal with another quasi-meltdown as a result. Mostly it saddens me to think that someone who respects their knowledge of basketball enough to cover the NBA as a professional is either corrupted or stupid enough to think Joe Johnson was the 5th-best player in the League this year. In all honesty without a shred of bias of misconception, this guy wasn't definitely the best player on his own team this season, and they middled out in what's still the shallower playoff bracket. What the flying fucking hell is he doing anywhere near the MVP trophy? This is too much: the NBA needs to do something, ANYTHING between guiding these voters and replacing them, because anyone with half a brain who knows basketball and looks at these results has to start taking this as a bit of a joke. And any true NBA fan who has respect for the game and wants the best for it wants to see this award celebrated, not mocked. So, with that in mind, let's salute something they did get right: Your 2012 MVP, Lebron James. 

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.