Bleacher Report - Articles by Anthony Wilson

Lakers About To Ruin a Perfect Thing

Anthony Wilson — Wed, 15 Jul 2009 19:24:42 -0400

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anthony Wilson — Tue, 07 Jul 2009 13:03:27 -0400

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

Albert Pujols trots casually around the base paths and into All-Star weekend on what one has to believe will be a professional highpoint for him. The mid-season festivities will take place in his baseball hometown of St. Louis, Mo.

He will partake in the Home Run derby and the game, for which he was the leading vote-getter, a distinction he has never been more deserving of: Pujols is having the best season of a career filled with absolutely nothing but great ones.

I'm starting to wonder if it's more than just a nickname, if he actually is a machine, if he truly is not human. Or if it is a little bit of something else, a persistent thought, the existence of which I am not responsible for.

Pujols flirts with the triple crown, leading the NL in homers and runs batted in whilst coming in third in batting average, attempting to become the first man to achieve that feat since Carl Yastrzemski did it for the Sawx in 1967.

He would become the first NL player to do it since another Cardinal, Joe Medwick, pulled it off all the way back in 1937. But that is only a margin of the equation. It is his startling, all-around consistency with the bat that makes it seem as though he was built, not born, still a noun but a thing rather than a person.

Now in his ninth season, Pujols has never batted below .314, hit fewer than 32 home runs, or driven in less than 103 rbi's. His career 162-game averages? .334/43/130. He has a lifetime OPS of 1.058, the highest of any right-handed hitter in history and fourth all-time behind Bambino, Ballgame, and Iron Horse.

Barring some unforeseen happening, he will be awarded with a third MVP honor at the end of the campaign. And so, in this age, when I think of think of "The Machine," I think of two possibilities, of which there is no in-between: either I am watching the greatest hitter ever...or the other thing.

I think you know what the other thing is. Recent history has told us that if a baseball player seems too good to be true, he probably is.

Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa performed an all-out assault on the record books in 1998, captivating a country, transcending the game as they bumped off Roger Maris (and Sosa would hit 60+ bombs two more times).

It was only later that we realized they were doing it with the aid of enhancements. Some wondered if they were not witnessing the best player ever in Bonds, his output at the plate from '01 to '04 the most eye-popping since Babe Ruth, even though they were achieved during the stage of Bonds' career when he should have been in decline.

Soon after, these years of Barry's would be stigmatized by the same kind of asterisk.

Then we had Alex Rodriguez, the pure talent who was to bring purity back to the all-time home run mark, and Manny Ramirez, the autistic genius wood wielder, meet similar fates as fallen Gods of the diamond whose accomplishments are now tainted.

And now here's Pujols, ostensibly programmed to belt baseballs, but someone who, because of the realities of what we have seen, I have no choice but to be a little skeptical.

Ten years ago, I'd have thought nothing of this, I'd have simply bowed; today I am still reverential but in the back of my mind I am, oh, I don't know, well, like I said, skeptical.

You can't blame me. It sucks, and you can charge it to the game that rather than being able to just marvel at and enjoy someone hitting for average and power on such a startlingly consistent basis, I also must wonder if it is being done naturally.

The Trevor Ariza Situation

Anthony Wilson — Fri, 03 Jul 2009 18:17:17 -0400

Trevor Ariza is gone now. No longer on the Lakers for me to worry about. But I still will think about him, for what could have been and what will be.

I wish Ariza had been retained by the Lakers, obviously; he has a fan-friendly style, the city loved and embraced him, he was a perfect fit for the team, and he had his fingerprints all over this championship season. He knocked down open threes (48 percent in the playoffs), wreaked havoc on defense, and made plays with his athleticism in the open-court. Role players usually do the small things, the things that go unnoticed to the untrained eye (like another Lakers small forward who won championships, Rick Fox), but Ariza's contributions were striking, even if you sit aside those two momentous steals in the Denver series: There was rarely a time when you forgot he was on the court, which is perhaps the greatest compliment one can give him.

But with that being said, when news broke that he was leaning towards leaving the Lakers over hurt feelings, I was disappointed but not devastated.

Ariza is a good player, but not an indispensable one: As Kenny Smith pointed out on TNT the night the Lakers won the championship (in discussing the upcoming free agent scenario surrounding Odom and Ariza), what, really, is the difference between Ariza and Mickael Pietrus? Or for that matter, I'll argue, Shane Battier, James Posey, or Bruce Bowen in his day? The Lakers probably don't win the championship without Ariza this year, but mostly because they traded Radmanovic during the season, leaving them with only one other small forward with a pulse (Walton) and an eternally struggling Vujacic, who lost the crunch-time minutes he thrived on to the returned and improved Ariza. Remember that they made the Finals last season virtually without Ariza, and may have won the whole damn 'chip with a healthy Bynum.

You could have replaced him this year with any of the aforementioned defensive specializing/three-point shooting swing men, and they'd have been fine. Going forward, they could have spent that mid-level exception on Josh Childress, or Gerald Green, or Kleiza, or Marquis Daniels, or Quinton Ross, or Jamario Moon, or Rodney Carney, or Desmond Mason, or Keith Bogans, or Kareem Rush, or Matt Barnes, or Ime Udoka...see what I mean? I don't like any of those guys more than I like Ariza for this team, or even at all, but how much does it really matter? They all have their strengths as small forwards and they're all going to look better playing with Kobe Bryant.

Not to go all Simmons on you (not that there is anything wrong with that), but my dad argued otherwise, suggesting that the Lakers should've done whatever it took to keep Ariza around (among other things). In a move I rarely make, I brought up statistics, pointing out that Ariza averaged only nine points during the regular season and eleven in the playoffs, as a means of putting his virtual worth in perspective.

My father shot back with the same argument I often make: basically, that stats are about context. He's right: I think basketball stats are totally subjective, that too much is made of them in a sport in which there is too much they do not account for. But I do not think they are meaningless, and in Trevor's case I think they pretty much are what they are. Roughly half of Ariza's value (his three point-shooting) is dictated by others: He feasts on the open threes made possible for him by the lack of defensive attention he receives on an offensive juggernaut featuring Kobe Bryant. Rarely does he create his own offense in the half court - occasionally he'll get chased off of the three point line and throw in an awkward runner or soar in for a dunk, but that's about it. The points he gets from his defense will still be there, but he is not a true offensive player.

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

With more minutes, more touches, and more opportunities to score, I suppose he will up his point average about five points, basing that estimate off of the fact that even Battier averaged 14 per in 40 minutes a game for the 2002 Grizzlies—and like those Grizzlies, Houston will suck. This is not a knock against Ariza—most of the players in the league are or would be useless on bad teams.

Ariza excels in that he possesses the kind of intangibles that can help a team on the very verge become a champion, even more so than most other role players do. But he is simply not someone who will guarantee you a ring, if there is such an entity, or bring you a great deal closer by himself, so you don't have to kill yourself to make sure he goes or stays. Role players are generally interchangeable, even those of the highest order, like the talented Ariza. Instead of paying them more than they are worth, you can just sort their minutes out in a different way and/or or add someone else who can contribute roughly the same in overall quality. I understand that sometimes you need what you need and not something else, but no team is perfect, anyway.

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

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

Victor Ortiz Shocked by Tough Marcos Rena Maidana

Anthony Wilson — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 16:08:10 -0400

There are few things in sports that can hijack your undivided attention more quickly or easily than drama inside a boxing ring. It is exhilarating, captivating, and causes one's blood to rush.

The announcers' voice heightens, the crowd rises to its feet and fills the arena with the swelled noise of excitement, and your heart begins to beat with anticipation.

To me, the best of these moments occur when one man possesses the momentum and has his opponent in trouble, and it appears that a fight is nearing its final stages—when it looks like the referee could step in at any second to save a fighter from further abuse (Pacquiao-De la Hoya), when it looks like someone might not survive an early round (Pacquiao-Hatton), whenever a fighter senses he has his man and goes in for the kill (Mosley-Margarito), etc.

These scenarios can come in a variety of ways. Another way to get me hooked? When two guys exchange knockdowns within mere seconds of each other.

That's what happened during the first round of the Victor Ortiz-Marcos Rena Maidana clash that aired on HBO from the Staples Center on Saturday night.

I missed the initial broadcast and figured I would watch the second showing half-heartedly, at the same time I was resuming construction of my more than year long ongoing drawing of Anton Chigurh.

The first knockdown, a hard right hand by Ortiz that dropped Maidana along the ropes, caught the majority of my attention, and may have caused me to lose grip of my pencil.

The ensuing knockdown, a vicious straight right by Maidana delivered immediately following his taking of the mandatory eight count left me, as a fan, no choice but to close the cover of my 18"x24" sketchbook, put it in its resting place and take in the fireworks.

There were more explosions in the second round. Ortiz knocked Maidana down twice. Following the first, commentator Manny Steward remarked that it seemed to give Maidana a quitters disposition.

But he would fight on, however discouraged he appeared, both heavy handed men throwing defense to the wayside in your classic slugfest, as I predicted in my mind how the fight would be determined: One man either scoring a knockout or getting knocked out, himself.

This outcome seemed not only inevitable, but just a matter of time, as there had been four knockdowns, both men were considerably hard punchers, and neither one of them seemed particularly concerned with protecting themselves.

Then, it happened. Maidana had a huge fifth round, using a big right hand to open up a dangerous cut over Ortiz's right eye in the process.

Following the round Ortiz's corner threatened to stop the fight if he kept leaving his hands down. He seemed badly buzzed and was asked if he wanted the fight to be stopped—to which he was noncommittal—and it looked as though the fight could be over.

When the sixth began Maidana jumped all over him, beating and chasing him into a corner and knocking him down with a barrage of punches. This seemed to seal the deal in Ortiz's mind.

He was now swelling badly under his left eye, and the referee had the ringside physician take a look at the cut. The doctor decided that it was too bad to continue, and the bout was called to a halt, much to Ortiz's total contentment with the outcome, as it became conclusive that he was done mentally and wanted nothing more to do with the match.

Ironically, in the pre-fight lead-up of the telecast HBO showed a piece about Ortiz's difficult youth (he lived in a trailer home and he and his siblings were abandoned by his parents) and resiliency.

Max Kellerman stated that there were no questions about Ortiz's heart and Steward made a point of repeatedly touting the character of both fighters, birthed by their troubling lives.

But only one man showed character on this night: The Argentinean underdog Maidana, outgunned and fighting in front of his opponents hometown crowd but making the stand anyway, while Ortiz gave up in a startling display of cowardice.

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

Although I hope I am being completely fair to Victor. He is a pup, and as Max said he made a decision in a rough moment, and of course young people make bad decisions.

In their post-fight conversation Ortiz admitted to being overwhelmed by the L.A. crowd that was so behind him, and this was the first event he has headlined.

Furthermore, I wonder if he was truly troubled by something greater—he told Max that he didn't want to go out on his shield, that he was young and didn't think he should be taking that kind of beating, and that he wants to be able to speak well when he's older.

Excuse me but, huh? Where did that come from? What happened to the hardened young man, and what kind of fighter talks like that?

I understand his rationale, it's the same reasoning that keeps me from going into boxing. But I don't understand it coming from Ortiz, who was, before this night, arguably the hottest young prospect in the game and participant in 26 professional fights. Very weird.

Ortiz was a quitter tonight, that's a fact, but there may be more to the story than that. I can only hope he is/was not experiencing something more pressing.

If he really wants to continue with boxing, I wish him success with that. If he does, then I hope people are understanding, and that he is given a pass as a young person who made a mistake, and that he is allowed another opportunity to be a main attraction.

Maybe one day what happened to him Saturday night will add to his narrative as a great fighter.

If he doesn't want to further pursue this career, then that is fine, too. All I know is that after the fight he said, "I have a lot of thinking to do," and it was the truest line spoken on the night and possibly the most concrete idea we'll take away from it.

Shaq Trade Thickens LeBron-Kobe Plot

Anthony Wilson — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 04:02:19 -0400

The terms have been agreed to. The Phoenix Suns will send Shaquille O'Neal to the Cleveland Cavaliers for Sasha Pavlovic and Ben Wallace in a move long-speculated and now a reality.

The Suns get some cap space, dumping the Daddy's unreasonable contract ($20 million in its final year next year) in exchange for Pavlovic's partially guaranteed salary and a possible buyout of Wallace, who has expressed an interest in retirement and at the worst comes off the books in the basketball event that is next summer.

They also receive the 46th pick in today's draft and $500,000 in cash. The Cavaliers get a 37-year-old legend who probably played the last All-Star caliber ball of his career this past season.

What do we get? Another Shaq-Kobe arc. Theirs is a story that will never die.

If Robert Horry was the master of finding himself aligned with the best big men in the game (Olajuwon, O'Neal, Duncan), then Shaq is the best ever at tagging up with the deadliest wing players going.

Young Penny Hardaway, Kobe Bryant, Dewyane Wade, and now LeBron James, The King. The only star perimeter player he never hooked up with in his day was MJ himself. Having laced it up with those four guys is enough to make your career a noteworthy one.

The Big Twitterer's latest partner is Kobe's new foremost rival, even more so than himself at this point, and I wonder how this trade will affect the supposed truce he has with his old teammate. Shaquille has always been known to tout his guy, even when he was playing with Kobe.

Will he be able to pronounce the supreme virtues of his new running mate without demeaning the greatness of his longtime nemesis?

They're allegedly cool now, but we all know that deep down hatred defines the true nature of their relationship, especially from Shaq's end.

Can he resist his natural instinct to trash him, now that the obvious LeBron-Kobe pitched battle has been placed right in front of him and made a part of his life?

The math says no. It's like he's been given one good reason.

I'm wrecking my brain trying to come up with a precedent for this scenario, of a situation in which a partnership is formed between two people, they become forever linked by their alliance/success, have a bitter fallout, and it culminates in one of the agents of the former union committing the ultimate act of treachery by joining forces with his onetime colleague's current chief opponent.

Betrayal, a theme that has been explored countless times throughout pop culture and history, and I cannot come up with a reference, a fact which I will kill myself for once Bill Simmons beats me to it. I'd compare it to Phil Jackson forming such a bond with Jordan through their six championships together, then helping Kobe close the gap on him in Los Angeles, but there is no bitterness between Jordan and Jackson.

I can only imagine what a Lakers-Cavs Finals would look like now, even juicier than before, double the hype and drama.

Kobe, with a win, would vanquish both LeBron and Shaq in one swoop, the proverbial killing of two birds with one stone.

Shaq, with a victory, would be able to find great peace in knowing that he lent a helping hand as LeBron pushed Kobe down the short waterfall and became the king in more than just name.

Both of them would have the opportunity to move one ahead of the other on the all-time rings list, and go up 1-0 head-to-head in a seven-game series.

Will it happen either way? There's no guarantee we will ever see it take place, as Shaq will be a year older next season and without the aid of the wizards that are the Phoenix Suns medical staff.

LeBron always made sure Big Z got his touches on the block and will surely feed the Big Dog, but it's just unlikely that Shaq will be as effective in the upcoming campaign as he was in '09.

ESPN's Chris Broussard, who broke the story, suggests prevent Cleveland from being eaten alive by Dwight Howard again, but if they really wanted to match-up better with the Magic they should have made a move for a swingman, like Stephen Jackson.

Of course, the Spurs have become a become a problem again with their recent acquisition of Richard Jefferson, something the Lakers will have to worry about.

We were let down this year, everyone's dream matchup squashed by Orlando, but I suppose at some point LeBron and Kobe will have to face each other for the championship, and it might as well happen while the Diesel is still around to thicken the narrative and multiply the plot times two.

Lakers: Can the Other Guys Get Some Love?

Anthony Wilson — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 01:27:30 -0400

The Lakers win the NBA championship, and all anyone can talk about is how it's Kobe's fourth and first without Shaq, and Phil's 10th overall, surpassing Red, and where it ranks them all-time.

Well, can a single coach and a single player win a championship by themselves? Of course not—it's a group effort, and so if no one else is going to do it, then allow me this opportunity to thank assistant coaches Brian Shaw and Kurt Rambis, who will be heading their own squadrons in the near future, as well as longtime Zenmaster bench aids Frank Hamblen and Jim Cleamons.

Tex Winter, wherever you are, get well soon, so you can enjoy this also. Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, we salute you as well, you deserve much better than a job as a tutor and a seat behind the bench.

And the front office, I mean, how can Mitch Kupchak not get more praise? He built this team—he had a vision and the patience and fortitude to see it through despite great pressure to do otherwise. This guy knew what he was doing.

And Dr. Buss...in a league in which few owners are willing to put winning above all else, you are one of the exceptions, okaying the Gasol trade even though you knew it would put the team over the luxury tax threshold for years to come. Finances don't matter to you as much as championships and the tradition of great Lakers basketball, and for that we salute you. That's why Los Angeles now has a ninth banner under your keep.

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

...Pau Gasol, who, as Jeff Van Gundy likes to put, is the NBA's best second-best player. This season, and especially in the postseason, he went from a very good player to a great one. Not only does he score on anyone and possess a sky-high basketball IQ, but his defense has become much improved.

Last season it was mock-worthy, then it became adequate, to above-average, to damned good in the Finals, as evidenced by the job he did on Dwight Howard. Gasol held Howard to 15 points a game on a mere 49 percent shooting, 11 percent south of his overall postseason effort. Of course he couldn't have done it without a little help from...

...Lamar Odom, much maligned and asked of for more, but finally arrived. This was his finest season: before the season began, he accepted a demotion to the bench in a contract year and after some brief discontent, he embraced his new role.

Then, when Andrew Bynum went down to a knee injury in January, he quietly and seamlessly filled in until Bynum's return in April, at which point he quietly and seamlessly transitioned back to his position as sixth man. With Drew failing to recover his previous form and constantly plagued by foul trouble, he picked up the slack once again, averaging 13 points and eight rebounds in the Finals and 12 points and nine rebounds overall in 32 minutes a game in the postseason. Redemption and vindication at last.

I'm happy for Lamar—he's been here for a while now, through all of the post-Shaq angst, tons of scrutiny, and enough trade rumors that I'm almost shocked he lasted this long. He's a great guy, adored by his teammates and well-liked by reporters, and there's not a lot of guys unselfish enough to make the sacrifice he made, get jerked around and treated like an object all season, and remain such a positive team guy. Lesser men would have become the kind of cancer that can sabotage a championship dream. If Odom leaves this summer, he will leave a champion, and he didn't need a ring to prove it.

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

...Trevor Ariza. I think Odom is more valuable to this team. With Bynum's injury history and general flightiness, you can't underestimate the importance of having a guy on the bench who fits into the puzzle so easily and brings just as much to the table in his own way.

But Ariza's defense, athleticism, outside shooting, and knack for getting his hand on the ball were huge to this championship run. If he ever learns some moves off the dribble he'll be Eddie Jones 2.0. Every title team has a Trevor Ariza on it; I hope the Lakers still have him next year.

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

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

Sasha Vujacic—Wasn't much of a Machine this time around. Sasha kind of went in the tank this season after a breakout performance last year. He saw a decrease in playing time as Ariza stole the minutes he got playing alongside Kobe to finish games last year, but he also didn't shoot as well as he did last year, from 45 percent overall and 44 percent from deep to 39 and 36 from three.

It was almost as if he played over his head last year and fell back to earth this season. He went scoreless in the Finals, which is kind of incredible—when he signed that new contract last summer no one envisioned him struggling so mightily.

But he's still Sasha, he's still our Sasha, and we love him regardless. Regardless of his poor play he was a key rotation player this year, so he can wear his ring with pride. The same can be said of his back-court buddy...

...Jordan Farmar, another good character guy on a team stacked with them. Jordan hit a sort of junior wall this season, if that exists (I know it doesn't).

He missed time with a knee injury and just flat struggled all season, somehow regressing from a strong sophomore campaign. He lost his job at the end of the season and beginning of the playoffs, shared it, and finally retrieved it in the Finals—a lot of this fluctuation dictated by the match-ups that were presented in each series. He just has to get his confidence back and he'll be fine, I still see him as the point guard of the future. However, I hope...

...Shannon Brown is still around to push him. He's a free agent also, and hopefully the Lakers can afford to keep him.

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

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

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

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

Kobe Bryant Wins Fourth Title, and Now He Can Sleep Soundly

Anthony Wilson — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 05:51:19 -0400

Well, after all of that, now that he's done it, I think the most apt question is, Is anyone surprised? Of course Kobe Bryant led a team to an NBA championship.

For the most part, all the truest of true legends have done it, and who has ever watched Kobe during his career and not realized that they were watching the kind of pure genius you tell your grand-kids about?

He has over the past 13 seasons ascended to levels of play that arguably no other player has achieved. As its peak, his scoring prowess was such that he was capable of scoring 50 to 60 points in literally arbitrary fashion.

Like boxing writers say about Roy Jones or Floyd Mayweather, there have been times when Bryant has operated at a level so superior to the opposition it was just mesmerizing. Defenses ceased to matter.

No contemporary basketball player has outclassed more challengers (team and individual) with his skill and talent.

On top of that, he's a defender, rebounder, passer, and ball-handler—and a triangle offense initiator for the first three championships of his career, Scottie Pippen only if Pippen had to score 25 a night instead of 20 and carry the crunch-time burden as well.

In other words, we have spent all of this time obsessing over something that was inevitable. We know who the best players of all-time are, they're the ones with the rings: Magic, Larry, Mike, Shaq, and Duncan have been the NBA kings of the past 30 years because they acquired the hardware.

Shaquille's presence and impact was so large it cast even a megastar like Kobe into a shadow, and ensured that if Kobe retired without a title as the best player on a team his legacy would have been that of a man who couldn't win a title without the Big Guy.

He would have ranked ahead of the sidekicks—the Pippens and McHales—and he would have placed before the guys who never won rings—the Barkleys and Malones. But he would have fallen short of that most exclusive of clubs, the Elite Company, with Johnson, Bird, and Jordan, etc., that we know he aspires for membership in.

But we knew those guys, and we knew Kobe, so we had to have known this day would come eventually. Of course, I say this with the knowledge that he has won the fourth championship.

If 10 years from now he had hung it up with only three, I'd see him in an entirely different light. Instead, I see this as the accomplishment that verifies how great I already knew he was.

I also see the fourth ring as providing certification to the other three and solidifying with them, proving that he was capable of winning titles as top dawg all along: He doesn't have three rings with Shaq and one ring without, he just has four rings, period. And all he needed was sufficient enough help.

I like to compare the Kobe and Shaq duo to that of Avon Barksdale and Stringer Bell.

I once started a discussion on an HBO message board that pondered who was the better No. 2 between Stringer and Chris Partlow, and a smart commenter somewhat deflated my topic by arguing that Avon and Stringer were more or less partners, as they shared profits.

Still, though, Avon's job description read drug kingpin, while Stringer's read drug lord, and as such while Stringer had an extremely crucial voice and very much his friend's ear, Avon's word was the gavel.

Similarly, while Kobe did more heavy lifting for those teams than any other "sidekick" ever did, in all honesty sharing equal responsibility with Shaq—even serving as the end-of-game go-to-guy and sometimes flat-out carrying the team—in the end he deferred.

Shaq was the focal point of the offense and the most important reason for L.A.'s dominance, and thus 1A, and this was proved each June, when Kobe would fall back and let Shaq go to work in the Finals, content to do the Pippen routine while Shaq put up the monster numbers and collected that little trophy that is now named after Bill Russell.

So I think Kobe needed this one, to show that he could do it guiding the sleigh, and now that he has one of his own he must be considered one of the top-10 players to ever lace 'em up.

He can just go chill out on some farm somewhere if he wants to, and give up basketball, he has nothing left to prove. Of course he'll keep pushing, he wants five and six rings, he wants as many as he can get, he wants to keep rising up the all-time ladder.

But even if he doesn't win another one he can sleep soundly, his legacy is secure. I think the best athletes reach a level of greatness at which everyone's excellence becomes virtually the same.

You may not be the best guy at the table, but it doesn't matter, all that counts is that you get to sit down in the first place. I think Kobe has reached that point. His persecutors will continue to throw rocks, as they say hatred lasts forever, but in truth he has silenced them, and it was really only a matter of time before he did.

Derek Fisher Comes Through for Los Angeles Lakers Again

Anthony Wilson — Fri, 12 Jun 2009 03:39:33 -0400

Derek Fisher has, here in the latter stages of his career, come to be admired as a sort of basketball warhorse. But he was not always so esteemed. Near the end of his first stint with the Lakers, Fisher earned a reputation as a liability for his lack of success defending quick point guards.

He had a scorching run during the 2001 playoffs, but by the time the Lakers completed their three-peat the following season, the feeling was that the Lakers were winning in spite of their point guard.

When the Lakers failed to win a fourth consecutive title the following season, management looked to improve their resistance at the position.

That summer, they added future Hall-of-Famer and defensive genius Gary Payton in an attempt to solve the issue. Fisher was moved to the bench, a sort of cold demotion for a man who had been a starter on two championship teams.

And yet, it was Fisher who made the most notable play of that season, authoring one of the most famous shots in NBA history (I believe you know which one I am referring to).

The L.A. dynasty would be dismantled following a shocking upset at the hands of the Pistons in the Finals that June, and Fish would join in on the great exodus, fleeing via free agency.

But after three seasons away from the nest he would return, this time not as a handicap but as a plus: a cool-headed, steady handed veteran leader who would help bridge the gap between long-time back-court mate Kobe Bryant and his young, embattled supporting cast.

Indeed, Fisher's stable play and maturity was a major upgrade over the flighty Smush Parker, and the Lakers made the Finals last season thanks in part to Fish's positive calming influence both on and off the court.

He could've retired last summer, with everyone's respect and his impact appreciated by Lakers Nation. He had earned it. Of course with that being said, when he struggled down the stretch this year his head was once again called for.

His poor play wasn't going to negatively affect his reputation but it was hurting his team. Loyalty is a great notion but it doesn't help win ballgames. It seemed to be the only thing that was allowing him to keep his job, though.

Fisher had always done two things well: make threes and take charges. Now he wasn't doing much of either, only he was still playing 30 minutes a night. He was playing basketball whilst sporting dentures and needing the aid of a cane and it was time to hand the reigns to the young guys, Farmar and Brown.

Then it happened. The real reason Phil Jackson stuck with him, I suppose. Game Four, NBA Finals, Orlando leads L.A. by three with eleven seconds left. Out of the timeout Ariza inbounds to Kobe, who's doubled and forced to give it back to Ariza, who then throws it to Fisher. Fish dribbles the ball calmly into the front-court.

Will the Magic foul? They never do. Jameer Nelson gives Fish way too much room to breathe, so he casually stops behind the three-point line, squares up, and tickles the net for the last basket of regulation.

In overtime, Kobe has been monopolizing the ball to an extreme fault, but now there's 30-some seconds left and he's doubled in the post by Pietrus and Nelson and has no choice but to pass. And Fisher is wide open behind the arc, straight away.

In the very first game of the regular season last year, Bryant found him for a game-tying jumper in the fourth quarter to cap off a rally versus the Rockets.

The Lakers would lose the game but the outcome was besides the point: Kobe may not have trusted the rest of his teammates, but he did trust Fisher, and he trusted him in big moments, and that was evident immediately upon his return.

Thursday night, Kobe gave it up to Fisher again, and the rest is history. The Lakers won, despite being on the bad end of one of the most lopsided officiated games in Finals history.

Not just the 37-20 disparity overall, but the fact that Orlando shot 17 free throws to the Lakers ZERO in the fourth quarter. 17 to ZERO? Really? How can that be? I don't know how the Lakers pulled it out but they did, and Fisher was the hero (along with Ariza), as he cemented his status as one of the best clutch shooting role players of his generation.

It speaks volumes of the old guy, and for the experience and mental fortitude that is so valued in him, and it seems only right that the Lakers are now only a game away from a fourth title this decade and Derek Fisher is right in the middle of it.

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

Anthony Wilson — Sat, 06 Jun 2009 23:13:04 -0400

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

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

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

I'd put Shaq O'neal and Timmothy Duncan before him, too, for they also were the best players on multiple title winning squadrons.

I wouldn't put Jerry West ahead of him: he only won one championship, near the tail-end of his career, on the legendary 1971-72 Lakers, when he was pretty much equals with fellow Hall-of-Famers Chamberlain and Gail Goodrich (sort of a precursor to the KG-P2-Ray thing that happened 36 years later), and, in admittedly one of the great injustices in the history of the sport, never won a (regular season) MVP.

Oscar Robertson was a statistical marvel, but fact is he never won a title on his own - he had to wait until the latter portion of his run, when he was second fiddle to a young Lew Alcindor on the 1970-71 Bucks.

Consider this: This season, Bryant became only the third member of what I consider to be a pretty exclusive club: the "first team All-NBA and all-defense team seven times each" club, joining Jordan and Duncan. I fairness, the all-defense team did not come into existence until the 1968-69 season.

This was Russell's final campaign, and obviously many of the stars of the '60s were greatly precluded from inclusion, so its not the fairest list.

Still though, that's 40 years of hoop right there, and for Bryant to be in such rare company, with the greatest player of all-time and, in my opinion, the best all-around big man of all-time, is a testament to the sweat of his career and the completeness of his game.

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

I was tempted to move Bryant to the very top of the list while watching him carve up the Magic Thursday night in Game 1 of the Finals, specifically his 17-point third quarter performance.

It didn't surpass MJ's best work in that round, but it was a show to be remembered, for the level of superiority and sheer intensity on display.

We already knew Kobe was a magician on the court, and we knew he was dead serious, but Thursday night he appeared to be on the verge of madness. I mean, not even MJ ever wanted a championship so badly he was turning visibly feral in its pursuit.

But I don't think he'll have to wait much longer, it really looks like in the next week he is going to get the prize he pines for. Orlando just didn't look like they belonged in Game One; I'd almost say they looked scared.

They'll play better—Howard won't have another game where he makes only one field goal, for one, and Orlando's 30 percent shooting from the floor indicates that more than giving credit to the Lakers defense (which was excellent), we must recognize that the Magic simply had one of those games.

But I have come up with this rule of thumb: In a match-up between the Lakers and another relatively equally talented team, if Kobe shoots about 40 percent, La La will very likely taste defeat.

If he hovers around 45 percent, they will probably win. If he shoots 50 percent? The opponent has no chance. In L.A.'s two previous trips to the Finals, Bryant shot a respective 39 and 40 percent, and the Lakers lost both times.

But those failures came against the 2004 Pistons and 2008 Celtics, two historically stout defensive clubs that made thwarting him their predicate to success. Not only do the Magic have no such defense or, apparently, game-plan, but Bryant is simply unstoppable now.

He became a better shooter over the summer, adding more arc to his release in an effort to make himself more effective against the Boston-type defense that builds a fortress around the paint and forces him to get his points on long jumpers. He also sets up and plays more in the post now than ever before. He officially has an answer for everything.

So, I see him shooting at least 47-48 percent in this series. Which means it's highly probable that the only remaining question is who is he about to leap-frog in the all-time rankings.

I don't know if one championship will shift him above anyone on my imaginary list, but something tells me he's got more than a single ring left in him. This dude is not nearly done playing basketball at a transcendent level.

So we'll have this discussion now, and then we'll do the same a in a year or so, when he may be ready to make a real move up the ladder.

Desperate Los Angeles Lakers Will Top Orlando Magic In Finals

Anthony Wilson — Sun, 31 May 2009 22:46:05 -0400

Before we tackle the NBA Finals, we must first congratulate LeBron James for being a hero, even in ultimate failure. To see someone play so unbelievably well in a losing effort is both disheartening and something to admire.

He played his ass off, putting up numbers reminiscent of a young MJ, and like young Air he deserved better than the outcome. But he never really had a chance. With Mo Williams playing poorly this postseason, Cleveland reverted back to the one-man team of yonder, er, the past five years.

Didn't matter for two rounds against an expired Detroit and a Hawks team that didn't nearly stack up, but it did now against a troubling Orlando squad. It was already a bad match-up and now it was worse with LeBron forced to go 1-on-5.

His absurd 39-8-8 over the six games wasted. A ridiculous 35-9-7 over 14 playoff games gone down the drain. But he gets none of the blame. In fact, he deserves a consolation prize. Stephen Jackson, anyone?

As for Lakers-Magic...wow. Who would have thunk it? Before the season began, no one thought of Orlando as a legit championship contender. After winning 59 games during the season, they still got no respect.

Then few, Charles Barkley notably included, thought they had a shot against Cleveland. No head coach took more of a beating than Stan Van Gundy, roasted mercilessly by Shaq, called out by his best player in the Boston series.

No franchise player took more heat than Dwight Howard, scolded for being too nice, mocked for his lack of post moves. Then he put 40 on the Cavs Saturday night.

That's what makes their rise seem so premature and surprising, almost like it wasn't supposed to be—they seemed on the verge of imploding during that Celtics series, and Dwight didn't yet seem equipped to lead a team so far, especially if he had to go through a fully-formed superstar to get there.

But here they are. The question is, How?

Once again, the answer is the match-ups. Orlando is built around a big man and four perimeter players. It starts there. Howard controls the boards better than anyone since Rodman, protects the rim with urgency, and dunks everything if you don't wrap him up first (and center Marcin Gortat proves a reliable backup in limited minutes).

Rafer Alston (and before him Jameer Nelson), Courtney Lee, Mickael Pietrus, Hedo Turkoglu, Rashard Lewis, Anthony Johnson, and, when called upon, J.J. Redick, surround him. They slash, pass, but most and best of all, they shoot it, 38 percent during the season and a whopping 10 per game.

It is, by far, the most effective inside-out game in basketball, and it creates nightmares for other top teams.

The keys, I think, are Lewis and Howard. Lewis, the de facto power forward, completes the spreading of the floor, giving Orlando a fourth shooter. That's the small ball part of it. The difference between them and say, '05 and '07 Phoenix or '07 Golden State, is that it never seems to leave them at a disadvantage down low.

Orlando will never be dominated on the boards with Howard in the paint, and he can protect the basket by his lonesome—plus Lewis drags traditional power forwards out on the floor, distorting their influence around the hoop, like he did against Varejao in the Cleveland triumph, and leaving Howard to have a one-man house party in the paint.

When Cleveland focused their attentions on Howard, Lewis seemed to get lost behind the three-point line. It's like pick your poison.

I rooted against Cleveland in that series for a few reasons.

1) They were measured against L.A. so closely, and I didn't want them to struggle versus Orlando any less than the Lakers were against Denver, 2) I was scared of having to see LeBron for seven games, and 3) I was able to take solace in the fact that Orlando's two wins during the regular season came in very close ballgames, and that L.A. does have the home-court advantage.

I think L.A. has the potential to exploit the slender Lewis down low by force-feeding the 7-foot Gasol in the post against him - effectively canceling out Lewis' considerable mobility edge on the other end, something the Cavs couldn't do with Varejao.

Or they can just start Odom—don't even really have to, he'll play big minutes with Bynum inevitably in foul trouble. They're better with him and Gasol at the big spots, anyway.

These are two pretty evenly matched teams on the court, but I think what will get L.A. over the hump is that they need it more. A fire burns in their belly since last year's Finals, it was under control, but it began to rage in Game 6 of the Denver series, as they could practically taste their rematch with destiny.

They seem ready to play their best ball of the season, but if there is one thing I've learned over the last few years, it's that when a new series starts between two teams, nothing that happened before matters except the history between those two teams.

And as I said, Orlando took both meetings during the regular season. At this point, it must be considered foolish to ignore regular season results when trying to gauge playoff contests.

So while L.A. looks ready to roll now, and they will be fully motivated, and they are a monster when filled with inspiration—does any of that matter against a team that simply matches up well with them? History says no.

But I do think their exigency will come into play, at the very end, at what I envision to be the conclusion of the series: Game 6 in Cali, Lakers up 3-2. Their experience in this setting has helped get them a lead in a very competitive series.

Now we're down to the very wire, fourth quarter, championship minutes, ballgame up for grabs. What stops it from going the seventh? The Lakers are too close, too hungry. They won't wait another game. They snatch it as if their lives depended on it.

They make every big play and come up with every 50/50 ball because they have to, because they must throw water on the flames. Desperation, the literal deciding factor.

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

Kobe Bryant Burnishing His Legend in Jordanesque Fashion

Anthony Wilson — Sun, 24 May 2009 03:12:08 -0400

13 seasons. Numerous lengthy playoff runs. The basketball mileage of a man several years older than his actual age.

Played in all 82 regular season games last year, played in all 82 regular season games this year. Played in 21 playoff games last year, has played in 14 playoff games and counting this year.

In between, he took on the toughest defensive assignments as he helped our country bring back gold.

The Rockets employed a defensive genius and a swarming help defense that closed off driving lanes to try and contain him last series, which went seven games.

In the current series, the Nuggets beat him up for 40 minutes a night with multiple defenders and a strong help defense that meets him at every turn.

And for the first time you can see the weariness from all of that wear and tear is finally starting to take its toll on him.

He's exhausted.

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

This is the real stuff legends are made of.

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

Bryant is now doing something similar.

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

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

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

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

Kobe's been The Man for years, but now he is being chased by hungry youngsters who want what he's got. Some are beginning to call Carmelo Anthony the game's best pure scorer, and more are designating LeBron James as the league's new best player, two unofficial titles Bryant has held a grip on for most of this decade.

The Nuggets are arguably just as talented as the Lakers (especially now that Anthony is turning into a superstar, a poor Game 3 showing notwithstanding), and Kobe's own team has struggled to find their footing.

The funny thing is that for all the talk about how deep and gifted this Lakers team is, his supporting cast behave so often like stooges that in many ways the on-court burden he carries is just as heavy as it's ever been.

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

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

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

Which makes what he is doing, the way he is rising to the challenge, all the more exhilarating to behold. Kobe Bryant is playing the most impressive and inspiring ball of his career, like it or not it has been quite Jordanesque, and he is turning himself into a truly immortal basketball player right as we speak.

He shall be pictured in black and white, looking weary yet triumphant, because that was when the great Kobe Bryant was at his greatest.

_

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

I listened to the remainder of the first quarter on A.M. frequencies. By the time I got home, the Lakers trailed by two, 28-26.

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

I Love the Lakers, But I Hate Them

Anthony Wilson — Sat, 16 May 2009 02:01:33 -0400

If you came up to me on the street one day and told me that a team that featured Ron Artest, Shane Battier, Aaron Brooks, Luis Scola My Friend From Argentina, Chuck Hayes, Carl Landry, Von Wafer, Kyle Lowry, and Brent Barry would be facing a team with Kobe Bryant, Pau Gasol, Lamar Odom, Andrew Bynum, Trevor Ariza, Derek Fisher, Sasha Vujacic, Luke Walton, Josh Powell, and Shannon Brown, and they were going to play 100 times, just based on the names you just gave me, I would pick the latter team to win all 100 times.

Seriously. That's what should happen.

And yet, the first team has beaten the second team by double-digits in two of the last three games, even though they lost the game in between by 40 points, and even though this is the playoffs and its supposed to matter.

As a Lakers fan, it makes me sick to my stomach. Watching them struggle against themselves to beat this courageous Houston team, it reminds me of the time in 2003, when the Pacers lost a first-round playoffs series to the Celtics, and Bill Simmons bashed Isiah Thomas for losing a series in which he had 10 of the 12 best players.

Why will the Lakers be hosting a completely unnecessary and embarrassing Game 7 to the Rockets on Sunday night?

Let me count the ways, in no particular order.

1. They don't know how to play defense

I'll give them this much credit: At least they're trying to play defense. That's more than you could say for them in the Utah series, or pretty much the entire regular season.

But still, even with the effort (it tells you something about the team when I am commending them for actually making a valid attempt to stop the other team from scoring), the Lakers are still pretty pitiful on that end of the floor.

Before the season, Phil Jackson appointed assistant coach Kurt Rambis as a kind of defensive coordinator for the team.

Rambis came up with a scheme that overloaded the strong side of the floor, trapping the man with the ball and forcing passes to the weak side.

It made them vulnerable to open threes and scramble situations, but they conceded that. I guess it worked well enough, I don't know.

After the first 20 or so games of the season, the Lakers just stopped playing defense altogether. I noticed a bit of that defense Thursday night, but in this series the Lakers have mostly just played defense like idiots.

That's what we'll call it: The Idiot Defense.

I have news for anyone on the Lakers coaching staff this may concern: Your defense sucks. It doesn't work.

Someone is always open. The players help out on everyone. They'd double my grandma. This is hurting them against Houston. The Rockets have no one who demands a natural double-team (by that I mean no one on Houston commands a second defender unless an uncommon match-up happens where they have a gross size advantage, such as when Brown was matched up with Artest).

The only help should come when Brooks gets past Fisher. If Artest wants to post up Ariza, let him. If the Lakers let Artest post-up Ariza without help for a whole game, is he going to score 40 points?

In the slim chance that he does, does that help the Rockets? Of course not.

But no matter who on Houston has the ball, it seems that the Lakers are cheating off of their individual assignments, then bringing help whenever the guy with the ball makes a move.

Why not just play everyone straight up, rather than let Houston's stellar ball movement pick them apart?

Also, Kobe chases the ball on defense, and can wreak havoc playing that way. But when he leaves Battier alone like he does, it often results in a clean look at a three for the No-Stats All-Star, as he's too far away to get back, and his teammates are not covering for him.

Either Kobe needs to stop playing that way, play a little more honest, or his teammates need to, as Jeff Van Gundy put it during the telecast, "help the helper." But something needs to be established.

Game 4 excluded, Battier has made only four threes in five games. But he's too good of a shooter and it's too much of a risk to leave him open. It's almost like playing Russian Roulette. I don't get it.

One other defensive problem...

2. Aaron Brooks is owning them

Playing against the Lakers has the same effect on fleet point guards that using steroids has on baseball players. It jumps them a level.

I believe it was none other than that old despised prophet Jose Canseco who said that steroids help turn a decent player into a great player and a great player into a superhuman player.

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

Mike Bibby has been a terrific NBA point guard for more than a decade now, but the last (and only) time he played the Lakers in a playoff series, he looked an unearthed legend, like he was going to be an All-Star for the subsequent 10 years.

Why? Because being defended by (mostly) Fisher (God bless his soul), he was able to get anywhere on the floor that he pleased at any time. Furthermore, maybe even worse, the Kings would put Bibby in the screen-roll...and Lord knows the Lakers haven't been able to defend that thing since before Shaq got here.

No switch on the play, and Bibby picked them apart with long jumpers.

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

Now enter Chris Paul, er, Aaron Brooks, who looks like Chris Rock but doesn't make me laugh as much.

Brooks is a good player. There is no disputing that. His speed and quickness are blinding, making him more valuable in today's NBA than ever before, and he can score. But seriously...Aaron Brooks?

We shouldn't be able to corral Aaron Brooks? He should be wreaking havoc in the NBA playoffs? Really?

He has been the single most important player in this series for the Rockets; he's only in his second year, and he's only started 40 games in his career, so he's still learning and he's still inconsistent, but when he has played well the Rockets have won: 19 points in Game 1, 34 in Game 4, 26 in Game 6, mostly on layups and threes.

The assists totals have not been high, but they disguise the baskets he's making with his penetrating, which causes the defense to react, and then his dishing, which even if it doesn't end in a dime ends up being the pass that led that to a pass that led to a bucket.

Just shoot me already.

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

Now let's see: L.A. rotates 7-1 Bynum, 7-0 Gasol, and 6-11 Odom (the best rebounder of the three) at the big spots. And not only are those guys tall, they have extra long arms.

Meanwhile, Houston competes with 6-9 Scola, 6-9 (yeah, right) Landry, and 6-6 Hayes as their 4-5's.

And yet, Houston still manages to compete on the boards, because L.A.'s big men allow their bigs to seal them off without making a real effort to fight for position.

I know guys like Landry and Hayes are beefier and stronger than thin guys like Odom and Gasol, but come on...if L.A.'s big guys try hard enough, if they push back a little and move their bodies, they will own the boards.

To be accurate, the Lakers have out-rebounded the Rockets 131-124 in the last three games, and are pretty much dead even on the offensive glass (33 to Houston's 34). But that's the point: they should be dominating.

To make sure I was being fair to the Lakers, I looked up the rebounding numbers for Cleveland's 4-0 sweep of Atlanta.

Just as I suspected: the Cavs outboarded the Hawks 178-123 overall, and 53-41 on the offensive end. Now that's a team that's doing what it needs to be doing.

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

But that's just me.

Which brings us to our final point.

4. Phil Jackson?

I do think the guy cares. He's famously nonchalant, but he was up off the bench early and often in Game 6. And I'm sure he wants a 10th ring.

He's clearly great at managing great talent, his teams have rarely underachieved, and he instills a calmness and confidence in his players that prevents them from panicking under any situation.

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

Hey, I love Phil Jackson. I am forever indebted to the guy. He came here and turned EVERYTHING around...the Lakers had gotten swept out of the playoffs in consecutive years before his arrival and were looking like a talented team with no direction, a team with potential going nowhere fast, and then he comes in and they immediately win three straight championships.

Think about that. That was an incredible job by him. No one else could have done what he did in such a short period of time. There is some genius in Phil Jackson. He doesn't get enough credit.

Anyone who thinks of Phil Jackson as some cat who just won a grip of titles with the best players in the league needs to seriously contemplate the first half of this paragraph.

It's just that, since his initial year back in 2006, when he coached a team with Smush Parker and Kwame Brown as starters to a 45-win season, then came up with the brilliant game-plan that nearly allowed the underdog Lakers to topple the favored Suns in the first round of the playoffs, it doesn't seem that he's done much, except sit back and watch the team become stacked.

That's why I wonder how much he cares. They're paying him $12 million for this year and the next. Is that the main reason he's still coaching?

Of course, I'm writing all of this after an extremely bad loss. If the Lakers win Sunday, which is likely but not a sure thing, obviously, I'll still be disappointed in them, and more relieved than happy. No way this thing should have gone seven.

But if they end up winning the championship, all of this will be either dismissed as a speed-bump on the road to a ring, or forgotten altogether. No one will care.

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

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

Only One Thing Can Stop LeBron James

Anthony Wilson — Sun, 10 May 2009 02:50:30 -0400

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

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

Why do I bring this up? Well, in the final part of his three-part preview of last weekend's Manny Pacquiao-Ricky Hatton fight, Shoefly predicted that Pacquiao would win, because while Hatton was a great fighter, he didn't possess the magic Manny now holds, and it was going to take something greater than him to shoot down the Filipino as fast and relentless as he is flying now.

Shoefly focuses on the seemingly inevitable Pacquiao-Mayweather bout. I echo his sentiment in my recap of the fight: If anyone is going to beat Pacquaio, as ferocious and mesmerizing as he is performing at the moment, it is going to have to be Floyd, the only fighter playing on the same historic field.

As I watch LeBron James tear through the Eastern bracket of the NBA playoffs, I think of this scenario. On Saturday, the Cavs defeated the Hawks 97-82 to take a 3-0 lead in their conference semifinal series. James finished with 47 points, 12 rebounds, and 8 assists on 15-25 shooting.

For the postseason, he is averaging 33.7 points, 10 rebounds, and 6.6 assists on 55 percent shooting, and his team is 7-0. But more than just the phenomenal production, it's the way it's done that makes you realize you are watching an icon of icons.

Every game LeBron makes a couple of highlight-reel worthy dunks, and occasionally he'll hit a three-point shot from near the half-court line, followed by a cool ass pose. He's not only the most dominant player since Michael Jordan, he's the most spectacular, too.

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

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

I think you know who I am referring to.

Dwight Howard is a great player, but he's like Hatton: not great enough for this task. No, it will take something more. Enter the 2008-09 Los Angeles Lakers, a team of superior talent to the Cavaliers that is not as impressive to watch.

But basketball is about matchups, and the Lakers beat the Cavaliers, handily, both times they faced them this season, including handing them their only legitimate defeat on their home court (the other came in the last game of the season, a one-point loss to the 76ers in which Cleveland rested their starters after already having locked up home-court advantage throughout the playoffs).

Sure, LeBron is going to be unstoppable, he is going to put on a show, he didn't play well in those two games but that is irrelevant now as he has ascended once again this spring, a man on a mission, not unlike Ethan Hunt, Omar Little, and Jake Shuttlesworth. He makes his team better like no one ever has.

But L.A. has not yet reached their potential as a team. What if the Lakers are saving their best ball for the Finals, and once they get there they become the team they are capable of being? The team that plays focused and resolute and defends, like they have in their biggest games this year.

The squadron that is hungry, the team that crushes you with their strength in numbers, coming at you and at you and at you, in waves, until you are overwhelmed.

What if Andrew Bynum gets his timing down, and Kobe, in his prime, starving for a fourth ring, approaching the most important battle of his career (if the Lakers can beat the Cavs, there is hope for his very own mini-dynasty; if they cannot, LeBron rules autocratically for the next six years) displays that perfect basketball balance that he has shown at times in the past?

What if their desire, to avenge last season's failure, surpasses that of Cleveland's, to avenge theirs of two years ago?

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

Is Manny Pacquiao The Best Boxer Ever?

Anthony Wilson — Sun, 03 May 2009 19:41:42 -0400

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

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

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

A great star at his greatest.

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

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

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

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

Eight years of tutelage from trainer Freddie Roach (the Phil Jackson to his MJ), however, have turned him into an all-around dynamo.

"The Coach" has helped improve Manny's defense (specifically his head movement, now stellar) and diversify his punch selection. In addition, his power has followed him as he has moved up through the weight classes, and with Saturday's victory over Hatton, he is now only the second ever six-division title-holder (joining Oscar De la Hoya), and the first ever four-time Ring Magazine champion.

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

The first query may be single choice.

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

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

Floyd may be the only person on the planet capable of matching Manny's speed and quickness, although he deploys it in a different way.

Whereas Pacquiao is a relentless attacker who stops throwing only to adjust his trunks, Mayweather is a counter-puncher, an in-and-out fighter trained since childhood not to get hit. He is also the sports best defensive fighter, as well as its most disciplined.

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

Winner takes all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Once again, job well done.

But there are larger things at stake.

Western Conference Playoffs First Round Preview

Anthony Wilson — Thu, 16 Apr 2009 23:27:10 -0400

Now, for two months of angst.

Let's get it started...

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

Utah hasn't been right all season. For most of the year, they were marred by injuries—specifically to Carlos Boozer (missed 45 games), but also Andrei Kirilenko (15 games), Deron Williams (14 games), and Mehmet Okur (10 games).

Boozer finally returned in late February, in the middle of Utah's 12-game winning streak, and it seemed that the Jazz were going to make a serious run. But it has not been so. Utah has sputtered at the end of the season, losing 11 of their last 18, including home losses to Minnesota and Golden State this month.

They have all their people back, but still aren't truly healthy—Boozer is still at less than 100 percent. He hasn't been himself. Thursday night against the Lakers, Williams looked all alone out there.

As for the Lakers—I mean, wow. They have the most talented team in the league by far. Lately, Shannon Brown, acquired from the Bobcats near the trade deadline in the deal that sent away Vladimir Radmanovic, has been stealing minutes from Jordan Farmar—just another good player for the Lakers, as if they needed any more.

Andrew Bynum, just returned from a knee injury, is already getting his explosiveness back. Kobe Bryant, now 30, has picked his spots brilliantly this season (preserving himself at the beginning and end of the campaign and dominating in the middle, when Bynum was out) and is now ready to go full throttle.

I mean, freaking Lamar Odom comes off the bench.

I agree with Charles Barkley - if the Lakers don't win the championship this season, it ain't happening. Think about it: What would make the Lakers win a championship in the next five years that won't allow them to win it this year? Better players? There hasn't been an NBA team this stacked in more than 20 years.

If L.A. doesn't win it all this year, they don't have what it takes and never will, and the missing ingredient sure as hell won't be talent. And I love the Lakers more than almost anything.

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

Verdict: Lakers in four.

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

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

Carmelo Anthony had some injuries this season—a broken wrist, a bad elbow—the latter likely the cause for his field goal percentage dipping five points, from 49 to only 44. Still, though, he can score the ball with the best of them, and is an improved all-around player.

Nene had himself a career year. K-Mart still does K-Mart things. J.R. Smith lights it up off the bench. And Chris Anderson may be the best backup big man in the game right now - always makes an impact on the game with his shot-blocking, rebounding, and athleticism.

As far as the Hornets go, aren't they a two-man team at this point? It's an excellent tandem to have—David West was terrific in April, averaging a 24-9 on 52 percent shooting, and he's a bulldog, too. And Chris Paul is the best 6'1"-and under player who ever lived.

But they don't have enough help—Rasual Butler is okay, I guess, but you'd rather have him coming off the bench. Peja is playing hurt—he averaged 10 points a game on only 34 percent from three and 35 percent overall in 35 minutes a game in April, after playing only two games in March.

Tyson Chandler missed almost a month before returning for the last game of the regular season.

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

Verdict: Nuggets in six.

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

In the past, Dallas matched up well with San Antonio. But that was when Dallas was good. Then again, San Antonio isn't what they once were, either - not with Manu Ginobili out for the year and Tim Duncan's knees aching, God bless his soul.

He'll fight like a warrior, as he always does when he's playing hurt, and Tony Parker is now the third best point guard in the league, behind Paul and Williams. He'll probably average 30 points and 10 assists in this series. Still, it's hard to imagine how they can get by the way they are.

These guys had a great run.

Verdict: Mavericks in six.

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

Probably the toughest first round matchup to call:

On the one hand, Portland has more talent. That's obvious. Brandon Roy is one of the 10 best players in the league; LaMarcus Aldridge is the re-birth of the Portland-era Rasheed Wallace, minus the techs; Rudy Fernandez and Travis Outlaw are outstanding off the bench; and Batum, Blake, Sergio Rodriguez, and the "Vanilla Gorilla" Joel Przybilla are excellent role players.

Hell, when he's not sitting on the bench in foul trouble, even Greg Oden comes in and contributes, using his sheer size to throw people around down low, grab some boards, get some put-backs, power home some dunks, and, occasionally, block a shot or two.

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

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

Houston, on the other hand, is a veteran team with a veteran coach and playoff experience, if not the good kind (they always lose in the first round). Yao is unstoppable on the low-block, and they play defense, and they play well together.

Other than Yao, their biggest advantage may be this: the ability to tag-team Roy with Artest and Battier. As good as Brandon is, he isn't exactly an unstoppable virtuoso force of a scorer, a la Kobe or LeBron or Wade. I could see them giving him some trouble.

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

That is the way it goes.

Verdict: Houston in seven.

Check back tomorrow for the East preview...

Pau Gasol: The NBA's Newest Secondary Superstar

Anthony Wilson — Wed, 15 Apr 2009 04:26:56 -0400

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

After last season's NBA Finals, Jemele Hill called him Pau Ga-soft.

But Jeff Van Gundy defined him most justly.

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

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

The Lakers are 86-21 with Gasol in the lineup over the past two seasons. The Spaniard has found his ultimate niche in Los Angeles.

The steady seven-footer, Mr. Consistency, with the all-around game. Mr. 19/10/4 on 57-percent shooting, serving as the Pinky to Kobe Bryant's Brain.

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

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

Doug Collins once suggested that Gasol was the most skilled big man in the game, and he very well may be.

He is an excellent passer. He is an excellent shooter. He is a nightmare both facing up and with his back to the basket, where he uses craft and finesse to dominate stronger, more physical defenders. He has terrific hands and a great touch around the hoop, where he can finish equally well with either hand.

But he's also toughened up. Gasol still isn't going to out-muscle anyone, and he does still fall down a lot—almost like a stage actress fainting during a play—but he does seem a bit more willing to pound bodies in his back-up.

The dude had his manhood questioned after last June's debacle, and like the rest of his teammates, he will no longer be pushed around.

If the Lakers manage a championship or two, or three, out of this bunch, the name Pau Gasol will join a list of great players who were not the best on their teams.

Before Gasol, there was Scottie Pippen, the greatest supporting actor of them all (Kobe doesn't count; he and Shaq were really more like two Brandos sharing the same movie).

Before Pippen, there was James Worthy and Kevin McHale. There is nothing wrong with being mentioned with any of these men. It is an honor.

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

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

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

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

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

But first, we must hand out some awards.

M.V.P—LeBron James, Cavaliers. Duh.

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

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

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

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

Coach of the Year—Mike Brown, Cavaliers. Opened up the offense, accepted the Phil Jackson doctrine of never panicking—allowing the players to play through rough patches, rather than bailing them out with timeouts.

Before, the Cavs pretty much won solely because they had LeBron, and almost in spite of Brown. This year, Brown has hit his stride.

All-NBA First Team

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

All-NBA Second Team

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

All-NBA Third Team

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

All-NBA Defense First Team

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

All-NBA Defense Second Team

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

All-Rookie First Team

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

All-Rookie Second Team

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

UNC's Trouncing of Michigan State: A Case Study in Matchups

Anthony Wilson — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 18:28:00 -0400

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The best team is the team that survives.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They would have matched up well with anyone.

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

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

Hey, it was a favorable matchup.

It's Not Wise To Bet Against LeBron James

Anthony Wilson — Fri, 03 Apr 2009 00:17:54 -0400

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

Swish.

If you or I were to make a shot like that, we would have no choice but to celebrate; it would be an organic reaction to making a miracle shot that we didn't really expect to make. But LeBron doesn't treat it like a lucky shot; in fact, he even shoots it like he knows it's going to go in.

His response to its tickling off the net is both cocky and causal. Perhaps not surprisingly then, LeBron has a reputation for making such trick baskets.

These seemingly trivial feats make James seem like a mythic figure walking the earth, the kind of athlete my generations kids will tell their grand-kids legends about, fact mixed in with fiction. They make him seem like a modern-day Babe Ruth.

Which he pretty much is.

Should he win the MVP? Pfft. Don't insult him.

Of course he should win the MVP. It's his birthright. He was literally put on this earth to collect Maurice Podoloff Trophys.

Sure, I can think of several reasons for both Dwyane Wade and Kobe Bryant as to why those two gentlemen are deserving of the award. But I can also think of one major reason why they are not: LeBron James.

The "King" has learned to dominate on both ends, he's led a much improved (by the single acquisition of point guard Mo Williams) but still not great collection of teammates to the league's best record (61-14 through Thursday, a full two games ahead of Kobe and the Lakers), and he's having one of the best all-around statistical seasons anyone has ever had.

He is the MVP. Just hand him the damn trophy now.

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

By the time LeBron James was 16, he was already the best high school basketball player in the country, the only sophomore ever selected first-team All-American. As a junior he made the cover of Sports Illustrated, the venerable magazine dubbing him "The Chosen One."

As a senior, he started the trend of ESPN airing high school games showcasing the nation's best prep ballplayers. He entered the pro game amid an unprecedented level of scrutiny and expectation, which he couldn't possibly live up to, everyone thought. After all, he was only a kid.

And so in his very first NBA game, he put up a 25-6-9 against a championship-contending Sacramento squad. Thus began the legend of LeBron James.

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

The moniker given to him by SI is now also a tattoo spread across his upper back, and I have already in this article given an effort to properly define his greatness by making an allusion to a feat accomplished only by Jesus. James does inspire sacrilege.

As far as basketball players go, he may be the most God-like we've seen. His physical makeup, when conjoined with the nature of his athleticism, seems unreasonable.

That someone so big and burly could also be so fast, quick, agile, and explosive does not seem anatomically possible. But through James we see that it is.

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

Even this season, with the addition of Williams, Cleveland has overachieved. Williams is a very good point guard, but ideally, you'd want him as your third best player, not your second, especially if you planned on winning 65-plus games.

And yet the Cavs march on, the best win total in team history and counting, more than any other reason because LeBron is, by his lonesome, better than many teams' two best players combined.

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

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

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

The Cavs put the fear of LeBron in me.

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar: The (Relatively) Neglected Legend

Anthony Wilson — Mon, 16 Mar 2009 00:58:18 -0400

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alcindor arrived in Westwood in 1966, to much fanfare. He was LeBron James before LeBron James.

In his college debut (and the inaugural game at the brand-new Pauley Pavillion), Alcindor led the Bruins freshman team to a 15-point victory over the preseason No. 1 ranked UCLA varsity, who had won the first two of Wooden's 10 national titles in 1964 and 1965.

In each of his three seasons on the varsity, the Bruins would win the NCAA title, amassing a total of 88 wins versus only two losses during that span, with Alcindor averaging more than 26 points and 15 rebounds per game.

In his senior year of 1969 Alcindor was awarded the initial Naismith Men's College Player of the Year Award, after winning the AP award the previous two seasons.

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

Drafted by the Milwaukee Bucks with the first overall selection in the 1969 NBA draft, Alcindor entered the pro ranks at an auspicious moment: on the heels of Bill Russell's retirement and at the toes of Wilt Chamberlain's 33rd birthday.

A window was on the verge of widely opening for a new giant to enter through and dominate the game and to carry on the tradition of great centers.

Alcindor did not disappoint. In his rookie season, he averaged 29 points and 15 rebounds per game. In his second season he led the Milwaukee Bucks to their first and only NBA championship, winning the Finals MVP for his efforts in the 4-0 sweep of the Washington Bullets.

The day after winning the championship, he officially changed his name to Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, as part of a conversion to Islam that had taken place years prior.

But only the name on the back of the jersey would change, as Abdul-Jabbar would continue to play at his usual dominating level. During the 1970s, he won five regular season MVPs, and developed his signature move, the unblockable sky-hook, which would carry him to more than 38,000 points.

In 1975, he would be traded to the Los Angeles Lakers, where he led a group of good, but not great, ballplayers to the playoffs several times with no championship success.

However, this would change in 1979, when a rookie guard named Magic Johnson joined the club. In their first season as teammates, Abdul-Jabbar, now 33, would win his final, and still record, sixth MVP award, and the Lakers would win the first of five titles during the 1980s.

Six years later, he was still averaging more than 20 points per game. In 1985 he had won a second Finals MVP award, as the Lakers beat the Boston Celtics for the first time ever in the championship series, highlighted by Abdul-Jabbar's famous 30-point, 17-rebound, 8-assist, 3-block performance in a huge Game Two win at Boston Garden.

It was a direct response to a poor showing in Game One's 148-114 loss, commonly referred to as the "Memorial Day Massacre."

Today, Abdul-Jabbar stands as the game's all-time leader in total points, field goals made, minutes played, and All-Star game selections, and being the complete player that he was, he also ranks in the top-five in total rebounds and blocks.

Furthermore, he is the sole inventor of the most unstoppable shot in basketball history, as well as the only man ever to use it, let alone to perfect it. His pro career was an achievement in longevity and conditioning; no one else has ever played so well for so long. And few were as great in their primes.

Which creates the contradiction.

In 2003, SLAM Magazine did a list ranking the 75 best players in NBA annals. And in this list they ranked Abdul-Jabbar...seventh.

Seventh? How can someone with Abdul-Jabbar's resume be ranked only seventh? Fundamentally, it makes no sense. Sure, Magic was really the most indispensable player on the Showtime Lakers, and sure, Magic and Co. sort of carried him to those last two titles. But that is nitpicking.

This was a clearly distinguished basketball player. Obviously, the list was in no way definitive, but it is consistent with the persistent undervaluing of Abdul-Jabbar's career.

My opinion? Despite his obvious greatness, Abdul-Jabbar was never beloved. But more importantly, he was never even liked by the media, whom he distrusted and avoided. And the fourth estate is the most powerful in all of sports.

They are the ones who burnish the reputations and make the myths. At All-Star weekend, Phil Jackson, speaking of his once feuding former superstar duo, Shaquille O'Neal and Kobe Bryant, said, "The last man standing writes the history." This is so true.

But here's the thing: The media will always be the last ones standing. They will outlast any athlete. And so they write the history.

And so while they have not actively sought to sabotage Kareem, they also have not actively tried to pimp him, to cultivate his legend. He has never truly received the proper amount of attention, the kind of attention his exploits would seem to demand.

Which is why SLAM, a magazine founded in 1992, driven by writers who belong to the hip-hop era and the urban culture of the 1990s, ranked him at No. 7.

It wasn't because they have any personal biases against a man that none of them likely ever covered or got to know very well, but because they have been impacted by the lack of recognition given to him by their older colleagues, who reported on him during his playing days and had the power to cultivate his legacy and ensure that he receive his just due, but did not.

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

What I cannot blame the media for, though, is Abdul-Jabbar's middling coaching career. He has been an assistant coach with the Los Angeles Clippers and the Seattle SuperSonics, and a scout with the New York Knicks.

His only head coaching experience came in the USBL, where he led the Oklahoma Storm to the league championship in 2002. Since 2005, he has occupied a special position as a tutor for Lakers centers, specifically youngster Andrew Bynum, whom he has helped develop into one of the game's best pivots.

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

No one is to be accosted for this. Abdul-Jabbar cannot be faulted for his once distant nature, nor can any NBA general manager be faulted for having the doubts that they have about him. But it is unfortunate.

Magic got to be a head coach in the NBA, as did Larry Bird, Jerry West, and Bill Russell. Kareem wants to be a head coach in the NBA, but no one will hire him. And for that, I feel sorry for him.

You'd think his illustrious list of achievements would have earned him a shot, just the respect that they signal for, but they haven't.

But this shouldn't be surprising, because they also haven't earned him the recognition he deserves as basketball's all-time most decorated player.

This congruence can be traced back to his personality. His star can't help but shine, but it doesn't shine as brightly as it should.

Kareem Abdul-Jabbar should be getting a better deal.

The Revenge of Dwyane "Omar" Wade

Anthony Wilson — Sun, 08 Mar 2009 23:58:00 -0400

The way Dwyane Wade has been playing this season, he reminds me of Omar in seasons one and five of The Wire.

Offended by Baltimore's most prominent and ruthless drug dealers, his crew depleted, HBO's likable stickup artist goes on the hunt for revenge all by his lonesome. He more than held his own, did his share of killing, but was ultimately gunned down.

After two injury-marred seasons, in which he missed a combined 62 games, you could almost say people had forgotten Dwyane Wade's name, or at least the way it made them feel only three years ago.

And so, a chip on both shoulders, Flash set out this season to refresh memories. He has succeeded. His body leaner than ever, with hops and quickness fully intact and a new weapon—a perfected 20-foot jump shot, his version of Omar's trusty shotgun—at his disposal, Mr. Wade is having one of the best year's of any player this decade.

The one man on a one-man team, Wade has dragged the Heat into contention. They are 33-29, fifth place in the East and only a game and a half out of home-court advantage in the first round of the playoffs.

Bet on Wade getting them that spot.

Coming into Saturday's game against Cleveland, he was averaging 29.5 points (first in the league), 5.1 rebounds, 7.5 assists (third), 2.2 steals (third), and 1.4 blocks (21st). The points, assists, steals, and blocks are all career-highs. He has scored 40 or more points in a league-best nine games.

He is on pace to record the most swats ever for a player 6'4" or shorter.

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

Always a fearless competitor, Wade has been downright bloodthirsty this year. He's been on a mission. The Heat have a rookie head coach. They start a rookie point guard. Their second leading scorer is a rookie, and he only averages 14 points per game.

Their second best player for the first half of the season was Shawn Marion, who's either past his prime at the age of 30 or was simply of greatly diminished value to them in their half-court style of play.

Near the trade deadline he was dealt to Toronto in exchange for Jermaine O'Neal, also 30, who is about half the player he once was.

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

As a pure scorer, Wade, 27, now most closely resembles a first-three-peat-era Michael Jordan. But while MJ was a true 2, Wade is a throwback to the '60s, when there was no such thing as "point guard" (well, other than Bob Cousy, I guess) or "shooting guard"—backcourt players were simply called "guards."

Thus, we'd have to go back further than 30 years to find the last time a pure "guard" was playing as well: Jerry West, when he was wreaking havoc with the Lakers.

But here's the thing: As we inch closer to the playoffs, we get nearer the time of year when Wade does his best work. He's been a killer since way back, especially in the postseason.

He put himself on the map during his sophomore year in college, when he dropped a 29-11-11 on top-ranked, top-seeded Kentucky to advance Marquette to the Final Four (it was only the third triple-double in NCAA tournament history).

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

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

In other words, if you are an East playoff team, you should have a healthy fear of Mr. Wade this spring. He may be outnumbered, but as he's been showing us all year, he's still got it. In fact, he's more dangerous than ever.

Wade's been kicking ass all year, but what better way for him provide exclamation for his mini-comeback than to win a series in the playoffs, then make one of the East's big dogs sweat some in the second round.

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

The Ongoing Disgracing of Allen Iverson

Anthony Wilson — Fri, 06 Mar 2009 02:23:35 -0500

First, the Detroit Pistons traded for him, and asked him to fit into a system that is not meant for him, that has never been meant for him, that is the polar opposite of a system that he could ever fit into.

They were asking him to, at 33 and in his 13th season, become a player who is the antithesis of the player he has always been.

They struggled, a perennial powerhouse fading into mediocrity.

Then Allen Iverson got hurt.

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

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

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

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

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

Iverson has always been a player who dominated the ball in his team's offense, and his most accomplished season came in 2001 in Philly, when he was surrounded by one great defensive star (Dikembe Mutombo, acquired halfway through the season for shot-blocker Theo Ratliff) and a bunch of role players (Tyrone Hill, George Lynch, Eric Snow, Matt Geiger, Todd MacCullough, Jumaine Jones, Raja Bell, and Kevin Ollie) who not only weren't scorers, but embraced the fact that none of them were going to have many opportunities to be one.

Iverson accounted for about a third of the team's shot attempts, and everyone else picked up the scraps and did the dirty work. And A.I. won his only MVP as Philly won 56 games and made the Finals.

Now, he was going to the team long acknowledged and praised as the most cohesive in the league, because of the ability of their key players to perform their roles so well, always within the framework of the team.

The Joe Dumars Pistons of this early 21st century will always be remembered as a fiercely strong unit of five, who eschewed the notion of any superstar pecking order and stood as a shining example of basketball in its most idealistic form. In other words, they were all unselfish.

Three of the Pistons famed starting five remained—Tayshaun Prince, Rasheed Wallace, and Hamilton. Prince and Wallace are just like the people Iverson played with in Philly, only much more talented.

Both of them are capable of more impressive individual statistics, but neither of them has the personality to even assert themselves (sometimes to the detriment of the team, actually), let alone put their own interest over that of the team. They just want to do the little things.

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

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

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

Granted, we don't even really know how good Iverson is anymore. Playing in the Detroit system, where they ask you to be one of five, has obviously hindered Allen's scoring average.

And his shooting percentage is the lowest it's been since 2004. And his quiet accordance with his pending demotion to substitute status suggests that maybe he realizes he is past his prime.

Or maybe he's just desperate and willing to do whatever it takes to win as he understands that time is beginning to work against him in his quest to win a championship. But something tells me Allen Iverson could still average 25 points a game, given the green light.

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

But the fact remains that he's Allen Freaking Iverson—to paraphrase Mark Jackson, Don't you know his name? You know his work—and at the very least he's still good enough that he shouldn't have anyone even asking him to come off the bleeping bench. He deserves better.

But I guess Snoop was right when she said deserve ain't got nothing to do with it.

Funniest Moments In Sports? Too Many To Name

Anthony Wilson — Thu, 19 Feb 2009 00:48:15 -0500

About a week ago, Rory from Bleacher Report shot me an e-mail. It's subject? "Funniest Moments In Sports." All of you fine gentlemen and gentlewomen on this site received the same message, requesting your contributions. Immediately, I thought of two classics: Joe Namath making his move on Suzy Kolber on "Monday Night Football" and Allen Iverson saying the word "practice" 20+ times during a press conference in 2002. There are so many examples.

At the end of the day, these sports that we follow are merely games, so they cannot be taken too seriously. On top of that, people are funny. So in the sports world, humorous stuff is happening all of the time.

Funny is any NBA studio show featuring any combination of Ernie Johnson, Ahmad Rashad, Gary Payton, Chris Webber, Kenny Smith, and Charles Barkley (making his return Thursday night on TNT).

It's Bill Simmons and his buddy Jack-O mocking Alex Rodriguez's attempts to explain the mess he 's made for himself by using steroids.

It's A-Rod being asked whether or not he would have admitted taking performance enhancers if he had not been caught, and him dancing around the question, when we all know the only correct answer was "no."

It's Nate Robinson and Dwight Howard walking together after arriving at the arena in Phoenix on the night they were to compete against each other in the dunk contest at All-Star Weekend, and Robinson looking into the camera and whispering, "He (Howard) has no idea I'm going to win."

It's Shaq's choreographed dance routine with the JabbaWockeeZ during pre-game introductions, and his subsequent coining of himself as "The Big JabbaWockee."

It's Kobe Bryant hogging the ball during that same game. It's Bryant pretending not to be disgusted by having to be in O'Neal's general vicinity.

It's Ron Artest acting crazy.

It's Craig Sager's suits.

It's Kevin Garnett making fun of Craig Sager's suits, and making fun of Sager for wearing them.

It's the old Portland Jailblazers.

It's the feud between Stephon Marbury and Isiah Thomas.

It's the Anucha Browne Sanders v. Isiah and MSG trial.

It's the comments index on SLAM Online.

It's Oklahoma State head football coach Mike Gundy hilariously exclaiming, "I'm a man! I'm 40!" as if telling us his exact age would have added anything at all to the point he was trying to make.

It's Bob Knight's tirades.

It's Jim Mora, Herm Edwards, Denny Green, and Mike Singletary at the podium.

It's Bill Parcells with with reporters.

It's Bill Belichick being totally bland and completely facetious with reporters.

It's bloggers making fun of Emmitt Smith's malapropisms.

It's this exchange between Mike Tyson and Jim Gray during a post-fight interview several years ago:

Gray: Mike, were you really sick this week? What was the problem?

Tyson: I broke my back.

(pause)

Gray: What do you mean by that?

Tyson: My back is broken.

Gray: A vertebrae, what portion?

Tyson: Well, spinal.

It's Jim Rome.

It's Joe McDonnell and Doug Krikorian's old drive-time radio show on ESPN 710.

It's streakers.

It's all of those things and so much more.

Our country is currently mired in the most frightening and depressing economic funk that it's been in about 80 years. These are scary times. So, now more than ever, it's good to laugh whenever we can, because not much is funny. Following sports is one surefire was to guarantee ourselves some chuckles.

Kobe Bryant's 61 Reminds Us of His Greatness

Anthony Wilson — Tue, 03 Feb 2009 02:52:25 -0500

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

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

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

Known for his icy, on-court intensity, Mr. Bryant looked as serious and focused on this night as he has during any single game of his brilliant, 13-year career. Earlier Monday, it was announced that center Andrew Bynum would miss two to three months with (another) serious knee injury.

After his instantly classic performance, Bryant explained that he wanted to make sure his team didn't come out flat against the Knicks as a result of the bad news.

He succeeded, scoring 18 of Los Angeles' 31 first quarter points, as I planned a column for later in the week on Bryant's greatness. Then he scored 16 more in the second period as the Lakers took an 11-point halftime lead.

After 12 more in the third and 15 in the fourth, Bryant had set a new Garden record, with a point total that will remind all New Yorkers of a deceased Yankee who also set a mark, and had a career, defined by the number 61 (although of course that record has now fallen).

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

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

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

All of this was done in an intelligent, calculated effort to maintain his eminence.

Similarly, Bryant is now 30 and as a result of his early entry into the league and the large number of postseason games he has played in, possesses more mileage than the average player that age. And so, while still a very gifted athlete, Bryant is no longer quite the explosive leaper he once was.

Furthermore, and maybe even more importantly, Bryant realizes that aggressively attacking the basket will only add to the wear and tear on his body and make him more easily fatigued later on down the line.

So Bryant, like Jordan before him, has made the jumpshot his best friend, and we all wish we had best friends like Kobe Bryant's jumpshot. It has become so accurate that he is currently shooting the best floor percentage of his career (48 percent).

It was on full display in Gotham, as he sliced the Knicks to pieces with a barrage of short and mid-range jumpers. He shot 19-of-31 overall, including 3-6 from deep, and made all 20 of his free throws.

His footwork and ballhandling is flawless, and his ingenuity is unmatched, so he can create an opportunity for a shot, as well as the space he needs to get off a good look, at any time.

The smartest player in the league, Bryant is canny as hell and always keeps a defender off-balance. And so when the occasion occurs, he'll still use his explosive first step to drive past his defender and to the hoop. He even moves well without the ball.

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

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

It was also the fifth 60-point game of his career (all coming in the last three seasons).

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

Monday night, he redirected our attention to his greatness.

LeBron plays there Wednesday night.

Super Bowl XLIII: As Good As Any Ever

Anthony Wilson — Mon, 02 Feb 2009 01:53:08 -0500

The query is sure to be thrown around.

Was that the best Super Bowl game ever played?

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

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

It had it all.

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

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

Before Sunday's kickoff, anybody who said that Ben Roethlisberger wasn't a great quarterback was merely mistaken; Now, they just look foolish.

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

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

Mixed in between we even had a few memorable commercials.

Warner has now recorded the top three single-game passage yardage performances in Super Bowl history. He has led two teams to the Big Game, one of them the NFL's version of the Los Angeles Clippers, and he nearly won it for them.

In this one, Warner finished 31-of-43 for 377 yards, three touchdowns, and one interception, rallied his team back from a 20-7 fourth quarter deficit against the league's best defense to set his team up for the upset, and cemented his place in the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

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

Timeout

My favorite commercials of the night:

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

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

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

Time in

We all knew that Holmes was a very good young receiver and dangerous deep threat, but I, for one, had no idea he was capable of taking over the last three minutes of the freaking Super Bowl. He finished with nine catches for 131 yards and the season's winning touchdown reception.

Holmes may never be as dominant, at least on a consistent basis, as he was in the pressure-cooked moments of Sunday night's affair, but for at least one evening he was legendary.

On NBC's pregame telecast, guest analyst Rodney Harrison stated that Roethlisberger was not a great quarterback, but a great football player, which could possibly be interpreted as a backhanded compliment.

But John Elway wasn't really a great quarterback, either, in the pure pocket-passer sense—at least not as a young player, as all of his best throwing seasons came after the age of 32.

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

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

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

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

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

And one of the best games of this past college football season was Texas at Texas Tech, when the Longhorns gamely fought back against the Red Raiders, took the lead, then got their hearts ripped out in the end.

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

Now, the night belongs to history.

It was one to remember.

Golden State Warriors: Best of NBA's Worst

Anthony Wilson — Sat, 31 Jan 2009 23:16:59 -0500

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

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

If it hadn't been for Bronzino doing his best Black Cat impersonation against them at the Oracle last Saturday, they would have succeeded in shooting down arguably the best team in basketball.

And now let's take a look at this squad: there's Monta, there's Crawford, there's Jack, there's Maggette, there's Auzubike. Biedrins handles the boards, while Turiaf blocks an absurd number of shots for the amount of time that he plays (2.1 in only 18.4 minutes a game off the bench).

All of those wing guys can score, meaning they will only naturally thrive playing Nellieball (as anyone reasonable gifted offensive player would).

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

So, in what has been a very difficult season to be a Warriors fan, at least they have a solid second half of the season to look forward to, as their team pulls off some upsets and potentially plays spoiler in April.

It's not like I think they could beat any really good team in a seven-game series, but the point is, on any given night, the Warriors are good enough that they could defeat anybody and it shouldn't be that shocking.

Better than being a Wizards fan.

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

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

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

Memphis (11-35): Well, I'm a strong advocate of O.J. Mayo, whom I think is a future franchise guy, but he seems to have marginalized Rudy Gay a bit (hasn't gotten any better this year). I like Marc Gasol, a beefier, more physical, less-skilled version of his brother, Pau.

And I think it's good that new head coach Lionel Hollins has made Mike Conley the starter at the point—I still think he's going to be very good, he's just one of those one's that has a longer learning curve. Not everyone is Derrick Rose.

Minnesota (16-29): I love Big Al, but he's not a center—Andrew Bynum dominated him on both ends Friday night when they were both in the game. It's not Al's fault; he's only 6-9. Bynum is 7-1.

Problem is, Love isn't any taller than Jefferson, meaning they're going to be starting two power forwards for the next decade and will always be undersized against teams with true centers. Love will rebound with anybody, but he's not guarding any five's.

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

At least they've finally found a good coach.

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

Durant is an awesome talent, but he needs to help his team win more games.

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

The guy's a future All-Star, he's made a believer out of me.

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

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

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

Analyzing the NBA All-Star Game Reserve Selections with Antwonomous

Anthony Wilson — Fri, 30 Jan 2009 02:15:47 -0500

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

Western Conference

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

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

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

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

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

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

F David West, Hornets - Now it gets tricky.

When it was announced that the "19-foot Assassin" would be making his second consecutive appearance (and he was the last Western player to be revealed), I immediately said "I know I can find some forward that's more deserving than David West."

Turns out I could only come up with one forward—Big Al Jefferson, the league's most gifted, young, low-post scorer, currently throwing up a 23-11 on a 16-28 Minny squadron.

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

I think this was one of those cases. The other six reserve picks were no-brainers; so I felt that the last one was a toss-up between Jefferson (who's probably a better player than West), and if not him than Deron Williams, if only because Williams is so underrated it's frustrating and he should have made it to the team the past two seasons but didn't.

You have to admit, it's pretty ridiculous that Deron Williams has never been an All-Star before. Everyone agrees that he's the second best point guard in the world, but he still doesn't get nearly the recognition he deserves. It's confusing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eastern Conference

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

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

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

David Lee is probably having the best year of all East centers—16 points and 12 boards nightly, on 57 percent from the field. Ilgauskus has been hurt, and Lee has been simply been better than Okafor and Bogut.

He's also on a 20-25 team, and the East squad already has three members on teams under .500—which matters to me, but not the coaches, apparently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

First of all, Mo Williams has got to be an All-Star. Orlando has three All-Stars, Boston has two All-Stars, Cleveland has...one. Jameer Nelson does more for the Magic than Williams does for the Cavs?

Other than LeBron taking a step forward and establishing himself as the best player since M.J., Mo Williams has been the ultimate reason Cleveland has gone from a one-man team that could beat anybody in a seven-game series because of that one man, to a true team that could potentially win 65 games.

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

But that's just me.

Around the NBA with Antwonomous

Anthony Wilson — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 00:01:20 -0500

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

1. Kevin Durant's Meaningless Brilliance

The aspect of Durant's game that, while a focus point of praise for him since his days at Texas I still feel is somewhat underrated, is his unbelievable versatility.

At UT, Durant got his points pretty much the same way he does now—skilled attacking from the perimeter with a smooth jumpshot. But aside from that, there has been very little carry over.

In college, Durant jumped the opening tip and played near the basket on defense, blocked nearly two shots per game, and controlled the defensive glass (11 boards per; he also averaged nearly two steals).

He didn't have much ballhandling responsibility, and didn't even bother passing the ball. I'm not saying he was selfish; he was just performing his role, and passing the ball was not one of his responsibilities.

That's why last year, while watching him in an early season tilt against the Clips in LA, when P.J. Carlesimo had him manning the 2, I was startled by his very legitimate guard skills: There was one play where he casually dribbled the ball upcourt and initiated the offense, and it didn't seem unnatural at all.

And he proved to be a pretty decent passer, and of course he guarded other shooting guards—I'm not saying he did a good job, but all that matters is that he did it.

So although, as a whole, I would say that his rookie year was underwhelming (he didn't have a game with double-digit rebounds once all of last season), it was still inherently amazing to me.

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

But here's the point: How many guys do you know that could go from playing what basically equated to some kind of virtuoso center in college (like Dirk on the 2004 Mavs) to a full-time 2 or 3 in the pros? How many? Seriously?

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

2. Mayo v. Love

You know who O.J. Mayo reminds me of? A miniature version of the neophyte Kobe Bryant. No. 1, he's fearless. No. 2, he's a ballhog. No. 3, he's a fierce competitor. And No. 4, he's obsessed with the game of basketball.

Like Mamba, his entire life revolved around one day making it to this point, where he would make it to the NBA and be a superstar at the highest level of hoop.

Like young Kobe, Mayo has, ostensibly, a single-minded approach to the game right now—he's still in that phase where his main objective is becoming the best basketball player he can become, and that does come at the expense of his teammates.

But he'll continue to get better and mature, just like Kobe did—and the kid's got superstar written all over him.

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

But while Love may never develop into a franchise player, like Mayo seems destined to become, we must also realize that this isn't the second coming of Roy for Foye.

Love is an extremely gifted rebounder (8.3 per in only 22.7 minutes a night through Saturday), and once he improves the other parts of his game and starts playing more minutes and becomes more experienced, he will average an easy double-double for the next 15 years—I'm talking something like 15 and 13—and he's going to help a good team win basketball games one day.

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

3. LeBron v. Kobe

Has LeBron James surpassed Kobe Bryant for title of Best Basketball Player in the World? In a word, yes, and I'm from Los Angeles.

LeBron has added some Kobe to his game this year—he's diversified his offensive portfolio, implementing an improved mid-range jump shot and some pretty slick one-on-one moves to the greatest power game any wing player has ever had.

And he's become an absolutely devastating man defender, having on several occasions already this season taken elite opposing small forwards completely out of the game offensively.

To wit:

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

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

Of course, this is no knock on Mamba. We all knew that LeBron would one day catch and then pass Kobe as the game's top player. It was inevitable. But Kobe is more dangerous than ever.

He doesn't have the same bounce he once had, but he's crafty as hell and I think he's the second best shooter in the game, behind Dirk. What other NBA player is better shooting from all over the floor, with a hand in their face?

Think about it for a second. No one. And as the great Mark Heisler once noted, there's nothing more important in basketball than the ability to shoot.

When M.J. came back for the first time, no longer an acrobat at 32, he was, as Heisler called it, a "Larry Bird-level shotmaker," which made him better than ever. Think of Kobe the same way.

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

4. Pau Gasol

I've been thinking about this one.

Doug Collins wondered during TNT's MLK day broadcast of the Lakers and Cavs, "Is there a more skilled big man than Pau Gasol?" Immediately, I considered Duncan, whom I think is better with his back to the basket because he's stronger and can always get the position he wants. Gasol can't; he's not strong enough or physical enough.

But then again, you could make the argument that that has nothing to do with skill.

And so Gasol may be the game's most skilled big. He's an almost automatic mid-range and face-up jumpshooter—even better than TD, believe it or not. And he's just got a ton of finesse moves: a spin move, hook shots, short turnarounds, fakes, you name it.

He can finish around the hoop with either hand and is one hell of a passer.

So, yeah. Pau Gasol might be the game's most skilled big.

5. Greg Oden

Not to infringe on Simmons' territory here, but I watched the 2007 NCAA Championship game with my dad, and we both marveled at Mr. Oden's body and athleticism, which reminded both of us of a young David Robinson.

He shredded Florida's big man threesome of Joakim Noah, Al Horford, and Chris Richard (about as mighty a trio of college big men as you'll see on one team) to the tune of 25 points and 12 rebounds in a truly awesome performance (even though they lost).

That night, I became convinced that Oden was the next great NBA center.

But then he hurt his knee, and not only has it created serious doubts that he'll ever stay healthy as a pro, but, at least so far, it seems to have robbed him of the explosiveness that once made him such a freak of nature (which microfracture surgery is known to do, of course).

Dude's a monster—a legit 7'1" (I'm not sure if he's grown any since college, but it looks like he has), and he's bulked up since his one season at OSU: He was ripped as a Buckeye, now he's just big. So he's still a man amongst boys around the basket.

But I've yet to see any flashes of a young D-Rob from him this season; he just doesn't have the same turbulence. Maybe it's gone for good, maybe he'll get some of it back, like Amar’e has. Suffice it to say, I'm disappointed by the whole ordeal.

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

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

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

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

Inspired by this past Thursday's edition of the NBA on TNT (featuring an Emmy-worthy guest appearing from "The Glove" himself, Gary Payton). So, just how much should team success factor into this individual honor?

Personally, I think to try and argue that record is irrelevant in the matter is absurd. It's okay to have a couple guys from poor teams fill out the All-Star rosters, but there should never be more than a couple, and they should never start.

For example, GP thinks Al Jefferson should start at forward for the West (over Tim Duncan, for the love of God). One huge problem here: Even after winning nine of their last 11, Big Al's T'Wolves are still only 15-27. If Jefferson were really the kind of guy that should be starting in the All-Star game, would his team be 15-27? Of course not.

Remember KG in Minny, T-Mac in Orlando, and AI in Philly? All of those guys took below average teams and, by virtue of their skill and will, made them at least average. And in the years that those players were on teams that were well below .500 at the break (like McGrady in 2004), guess what? They didn't deserve to start. Period.

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

Boston Celtics Need Intimidating Nickname

Anthony Wilson — Wed, 31 Dec 2008 18:01:43 -0500

I never knew the color green could be so intimidating.

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

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

The Celtics, on the other hand, seem unapproachable. If I saw a person on the street that carried the same disposition one of these Celtics displays on the court, I'd look for someone else to give me directions.

Boston is like the tough antagonist team in sports movies or TV sitcoms that you're supposed to root against, that appears on screen for the first time walking in slow motion.

Basketball fans know that once the buzzer sounds, the C's are cooperative gentlemen. But we know that only because we follow the sport. The casual fan, flicking channels and happening upon one of their games, isn't going to be able to decipher that.

Starting with KG, and trickling on down the line, the Celts ooze intensity. And not just in their faces, but in their play. I have never seen a more aggressive defense. Sometimes, like during the Christmas-Day tilt with the Lakers, it goes from simply stalwart to spectacular. It's like their defense starts attacking the other team's offense, Boston's swarming, smothering athleticism and contesting of every shot overwhelming.

It happens when the C's are making a run, they always close it out with defensive rebounds, and if they're on the road, you'll hear a lot of hooting and hollering from their bench.

The Celtics get a lot of flack for hooting and hollering, but that's more annoying than intimidating.

Kendrick Perkins, an excellent role player, needs to shut the hell up. Seriously. Just because you won one championship averaging six points and six rebounds on a team with Garnett, Pierce, and Ray Allen doesn't mean you're Shaquille O'Neal.

And Kevin, I must admonish you also: There's no need for all that nonsense. I don't play favorites.

Of course, the Celtics, who lead the league in technical fouls, wouldn't behave so brashly if they weren't so damned good and couldn't back it up. I didn't truly believe that the Lakers would pull out that close Dec. 25 game until they did. After losing in Portland Tuesday night, the C's are now 8-1 in games decided by fewer than nine points.

Nothing fazes them. They're the iciest team in basketball. We knew Pierce and Allen were assassins, but have you seen KG this year? Last spring, he played through the most important games of his career and was shaky in the biggest moments (that's always been the biggest knock on him), but his team achieved the ultimate success, and thus, the weight of having never won a championship has been extricated from his shoulders forever.

And it seems as though the relief of this pressure has turned Garnett into a clutch player. KG don't feel nothin' no more. He's not as cool about it as Allen and Pierce; you can tell it's new to him, and he seems almost pleased with himself. But the fact remains that Boston has three players on their roster who are ready and willing to take and make big shots, and that their entire team thrives in tense situations.

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

You know who these Celtics remind me of: John Thompson's Patrick Ewing-led Georgetown Hoyas. The intense physical play, trash talking, and hellacious defense, along with the reality of their (nearly) all-black squad, evokes comparisons to Hoya Paranoia (with KG simultaneously embodying both Thompson and Ewing)—specifically the '85 squad that HBO immortalized (well, right up until the part about the loss to Villanova).

You mean to tell me you don't recognize some of the parallels?

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

How Peyton Manning Earned His Place Among the NFL's All-Time Greats

Anthony Wilson — Sun, 21 Dec 2008 17:55:17 -0500

His name belongs with the greats.

Montana. Unitas. Brown. Rice. Butkus.

Manning.

Sounds right.

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

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

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

It's one thing to put up a bunch of crazy stats and win a bunch of games and even win a championship when the conditions are relatively amicable. But Michael Jordan's finest hour was his last one, in his final season with the Bulls, aged 35, when he led Chicago to a 62-win season and a championship despite Scottie Pippen missing 38 games during the regular campaign and being practically debilitated by a back injury by the last game of the Finals.

Muhammad Ali's greatest athletic triumph came at 32, when he was considered past his prime and even Howard Cosell said he had no chance versus the younger, seemingly indestructible George Foreman, but knocked Big George out, anyway.

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

So what happens? He spends the first half of the season playing himself into form, and now the Colts have won seven straight, clinching a seventh consecutive playoff berth Tuesday night with a victory over the Jaguars in Jacksonville.

Manning's line: 29-of-34, 364 yards, three touchdowns.

During the winning streak, he has thrown 16 touchdowns and only three picks, in the process establishing himself as the favorite for a record-tying third MVP award and giving his career the substance that turn the greatest of players into mythical beings.

This season the Colts became the first team in NFL history to win 11 or more games in six straight seasons. But this is the least imposing of all of those squadrons.

Bob Sanders has been hurt. That would be okay, because Bob Sanders is always hurt, but on top of that Manning's longtime center, Jeff Saturday, has been in and out of the lineup. So has Joseph Addai, and he's averaged 3.5 yards per carry when he's, same as his backup, Dominic Rhodes. As a result, the Colts are ranked 31st in the league in rushing. And Marvin Harrison, once the Frick to Manning's Frack, is, definitively—and understandably, at 36—no longer the man he once was.

True greatness is measured in times of adversity.

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

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

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

This year, Manning has become that kind of player.

"Dream Match" Turns Into Mismatch

Anthony Wilson — Sun, 07 Dec 2008 05:02:07 -0500

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

It was annihilation you had to see to fully comprehend. If you didn't witness with your own two eyes, you would not be able to truly grasp it. Manny Pacquiao crushed Oscar de la Hoya Saturday night in Las Vegas. He destroyed him. He decimated him. He humiliated him. He hit him and he hit him and he hit him again. Then he hit him some more.

It got worse over the eight rounds; by the end, Oscar wasn't even swinging back. He was just getting hit. Over and over and over again.

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

It went from shocking to kind of numbing to just plain hard to watch. It wasn't quite Larry Holmes beating up a defenseless Muhammad Ali in 1980, but it was something like it. Of course, I know that fight only through the internet; I wasn't born until 1988, so I truly only know Ali's legend via ESPN Classic, a movie starring Will Smith, and YouTube.

It would be impossible for me to watch a grainy, 28 year old tape of him on a computer screen and feel the same pangs of sympathy for Ali that those who lived through his career did as he was absorbing blow after blow.

But I lived through Oscar's run. Roy Jones Jr., Bernard Hopkins, and Floyd Mayweather Jr. are the best boxers of this era, but Oscar was unequivocally the most famous. Plus, he was from (East) LA, my hometown. He's a good man. I was rooting for Oscar last night. Now, I know how those Ali followers felt.

Saturday's tilt made me squeamish, and when it became obvious in the seventh and eighth rounds that referee Tony Weeks could step in at any time (and arguably should have, although I respect that he gave the aged warrior the benefit of the doubt), my heart started beating in anticipation. Oscar was getting pummeled, and the stoppage could come at any moment.

Dueling emotions were at work here: on the one hand, I didn't want to see De la Hoya go out like that. On the other, he was being badly embarrassed, and even his puncher's chance seemed vanished—so why not just stop it?

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

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

But that's sports, right? Pacquaio, 29, is in the prime of his career. Oscar is 35, not even competitive on this night. It goes like that. LaDainian Tomlinson, once as breathtakingly good as any tailback to ever play, is averaging 3.7 yards per carry this season. Through 13 games, he has had two 100-yard outings and is on pace for the poorest rushing totals (yards and touchdowns) of his career.

His toe may still be bothering him, but the real problem is that he's 29 now—running backs start going downhill at 28. Adrian Peterson, aged 23, is the guy now.

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

Greg Maddux retired this week. Nobody lasts forever.

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

Oscar's legacy? Obvious Hall-of-Famer, 10-time world champion in six different weight classes, Olympic gold medalist in Barcelona in 1992. No fighter ever generated more money. Totally classy. Never ducked anybody—he fought Tito, he fought Shane (twice), he fought Hopkins, he fought Floyd, he fought Pacman.

But what endures may be that he lost all six of those matches (albeit a couple of them controversially), and the argument can be made that he never beat a truly great fighter at the peak of their powers (Julio Cesar Chavez, whom he beat twice, and Pernell Whitaker, were both probably beyond their apex's).

The final Compubox number's from the night? 224 of 585 total landed for Manny, as opposed to 83 of 402 for Oscar. 195 of 333 power punches met their mark for Pacquiao, only 51 of 164 De la Hoya, 59 percent to 31 percent. But if you didn't see it, you still don't get it.

Oscar did. He was ulitmately non-committal, but also reasonable, about his boxing future in his post-fight interview with Larry Merchant. While he stopped just short of saying "I'm finished," his words spoke of a man that knew he was.

He told Roach, his former trainer turned nemesis who in the events leading up to the match said that after watching Oscar's victory over Steve Forbes in May, he realized De la Hoya no longer had his fastball and predicted that the "Golden Boy" would be stopped in the ninth in this one, after the fight, "You were right, Freddie. I don't have it anymore."

He doesn't.

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