Things About the Warriors/Suns Game

There was a time, probably 12 months ago, when 284 points meant something to me.  Back then, I still had hope that the Suns (and to a lesser extent the Warriors) had really discovered a new path.  Gone would be the days of post threats, forcing teams in to bad shots, and controlling the tempo.  These were the new guard.

Things have changed.  The Warriors are an elaborate in-joke of Andy Kaufman proportions.  They’re an experiment gone horribly, horribly wrong.  Maybe this could be fun if the scientist wasn’t intent on ruining what valuable results he could get.  Jamal Crawford is a born Warrior, but he’s wasted.  Andris Biedrins is treated like the tall kid in high school who might be good if he got to play more than 6 minutes a half.  Monta Ellis hates the place that made him.  This isn’t an enjoyable situation to watch, let alone be a part of.

The Suns are an even greater disappointment.  Where the Warriors were a caricature of Don Nelson’s crackpot philosophies, Phoenix were a revolution.  They even had a manifesto and a propagandizing slogan to back it up.  But for a year, that was abandoned.

“Stay the course,” we said. 

“No,” they said.

And now they’ve returned to that place that seemed so great, but now is realized as flawed.  What’s worse is that they’ve returned only after they’ve lost everything that made it work.  Of course, they surely realize that this doesn’t make sense; regardless, they’ve returned, semmingly more out of nostalgia than strategy.

These two teams used to be the twin towers of exuberance, but now they’re hollow, frustrated reminders of a plot to overthrow the NBA.

Things About the Eight Spot

Literally almost every day, the Matts, Roberto, and I meet up at Hardwood Paroxysm headquarters.  It’s a rundown chicken coop outside of Effingham, Illinois with an eMachines PC running Windows Millenium Edition with AOL 7.0 on a 56k dial-up modem.  We lock ourselves in there for a period of 2 hours, making sure to insulate ourselves from any outside environment.  We all wear our favorite plaid shirts and work up significant sweats, hoping to induce hallucination.  Pretty standard blogging behavior, really.

 As soon as we all start tripping, we talk.  Lately, the talk has been all about the eighth seed in the East and what factors are really going to matter.  Most particularly, we’ve been talking about the Charlotte Bobcats and also the green, spotted bobcat who roams about the coop.  We call him Frank.

Anyway, if the Bobcats have a chance, they need to make their move now.  They’re 1.5 games out of the eight seed and for the next week, their schedule is as easy as it gets.  The way we figure, they need to win at least three against Toronto (twice), Sacramento, and Indiana if they’re going to make their push. 

While their schedule after this week isn’t terrible, it gets harder.  They need to stack all the wins they can right now, while the getting’s good.  If not, throw them in with the Knicks as a team that just fell short.

Via Gif Party and ShareBros.

Cue up the sad music, because Chris Mullin is taking a Charlie Brown walk this summer.

But is it good grief of good riddance?

Chris Mullin has done some stupid things.  The contracts of Mike Dunleavy, Jr., Troy Murphy, Adonal Foyle, and Corey Maggette come to mind.  He, in part, was (and is) responsible for the Warriors perennial failures, and though he caught lightning in a bottle when he traded for Baron Davis, whatever spark was captured in 2007 left the bay with Boom.  There is Monta Ellis, there is Andris Biedrins, and there is the ever-ambiguous ‘hope for the future.’  Anthony Randolph has been every bit as fantastic as I thought he’d never be, Brandan Wright should still be a mainstay as an NBA starter, and Marco Belinelli is a tease, but a nice offensive talent.  This is the core that Mullin put together going forward, and though he’ll inevitably overpay them with long-term, lucrative contracts, isn’t the fact that he drafted them something?  You could make that argument.  But overall, Mullin has blown opportunities and hasn’t built a team capable of consistently fighting for a playoff spot.  You only get so many lottery picks before all the ping pong balls in the world can’t save you, and you only get so many freebie mistakes before the fingers start pointing at you.

If that was really the reason he was being fired, I think I’d be fine with it.  If it was really a matter of “Chris, you just haven’t been that good,” this whole thing would be easier to swallow.  Don Nelson drew a line in the sand, like he always has, and when the dust cleared Mullin was on one side, and Nellie and team prez Robert Rowell were on the other.  The whole situation reeks of sports politics, the seediness wafting to any NBA fan intent on sniffing the truth.  This isn’t just basketball.  It’s likely a cliche by this point, but I feel a need to reinforce that saddening fact.

Does Mullin deserve to make basketball decisions for the Warriors anymore?  No.  He’s had his run, he’s had his chances, and he blew it.  But when you’re being run out of town like a foreign dictator, everything just seems wrong.  Suddenly, Nellie’s insidiousness overshadows all, and Mullin isn’t quite the bad guy that he should be.

One of the most consistent flaws of basketball fans is our tendency to type players based on how they play basketball.  Bruce Bowen is an wanker because he plays like one.  He tugs at jerseys, undercuts jumpshooters, and bends every possible rule in the name of getting under his opponent’s skin and psyching them out of the game (after all, if you’re playing angry basketball, you’re probably not playing smart basketball).  But off the court, Bowen is one of the league’s premier nice guys.  I haven’t heard a single merited bad word about him as a person, not one anecdote of chronic jerkery.  Yet when we talk about Bruce Bowen, we talk about him in a general sense, and how much we hate him (unless you’re a Spurs fan…we don’t serve your kind here).  It’s not fair, and it’s not justified, but it’s just the way things go in this game, and to some extent, with sports in general.  When your worth is judged on how you perform in such a limited setting, you become your on-court personality in the eyes of the viewers.  If that’s a villain like Bowen, then so be it.

The same idea ties into Nelson.  He’s the “mad scientist.” the offensive wizard, and the cooky, unconventional coach who escapes to Maui in the offseason.  His coaching style appears whimsical, and so he appears whimsical.  But now, more than ever, we need to realize that he, as a person, is not.  His basketball mind is a unique one, and he’s done plenty of things that make me smile and think about the game in new ways.  But time and time again, he has angered everyone around him, and split town with more enemies than friends.  Mullin had a good gig going before The Whimsical One waltzed into town, and though his performance was poor, his job never seemed to be in jeopardy.  One Don Nelson later, Mullin seems to be the one packing his bags while Nellie coasts through thend of the season, laughing maniacally on that extended flight to the islands.  Nellie might be doing us all a favor by getting rid of Mullin, but is a good move for all the wrong reasons still a good move?

Paroxi-Wife columns may only be marginally related to the game of basketball.  But at least it gives you something to read while your wife is trying to tell you about her day, right?

Readers, I am not as fired up as I was last week after The Bachelor.  Not sure what to say about that except Dancing With the Stars doesn’t lead to nearly that much of an emotional reaction.  But I thought I’d leave you all with some thoughts before I take the husband and escape to Las Vegas for a weekend with family.

1. Dwayne Wade has been awesome to watch, which everyone knows.  But all the hype just makes me really relieved that he’s not shacking up with Star Jones, because otherwise we’d all be subjected to her scary face between shots.  Be thankful for this every time you watch a Heat game, kids.

2. I get this whole appreciation of Latin American fans thing that was going on, but don’t you think it would have been cooler if the jerseys had actually had the Spanish words for the teams (El Calor, etc.) and not just the word “the” in Spanish?  Lame.

3. League Pass needs to stop showing Snuggie infomercials, or I’m going to break down and buy one and that’ll totally ruin my image.  Although, my dad actually bought one this weekend (oh, the shame) and discovered they don’t go all the way around you.  But I guess maybe that’s because then it’d just be a really large sweatshirt.

4. People do the stupidest things when they realize they’re on camera.  I really don’t understand it.  Take those fools who sit behind the announcers’ table, and then make peace signs during time-outs.  Do they ever, during a normal day, just flash a peace sign at a crowd of people?  What possesses them to think now would be the BEST TIME EVER to do that for the first time in their lives?

5. Kendrick Prickens runs like a fool.  Fo’ real.  It’s like he’s out for a jog at the Common, not playing a high-intensity game against other professional athletes, some of whom are as big as a Mack truck.

6. I was really sad to see that Skeets called Numb3rs the dumbest show on TV.  I finally got Matt into it, AND they keep referencing basketball! I was gloating about what a genius I was- though I was sad to learn I was going to have to stare at Pau Gasol’s ugly mug for an hour- and then got kicked to the curb.

7. Think the Machine ever showers? I can’t figure out if his hair always looks that greasy and disheveled, or if it’s just during the game.  At the same time, he’d be justified not showering, because he’s a Machine, and that might interfere with the wires.  Just another mystery for these times…

8.  I saw these prints and could not stop thinking about which players or teams they would best suit.  This is what being a sports blogger’s wife has done to me.

9. The annoucer is having way too much fun saying “Pau” and “Yao” in the same sentence.  How now brown cow.  See? You’re annoyed your time was wasted while I was playing with sounds and listening to myself rhyme while you’re just trying to get through your night.

A) Don’t speak, Tim.  I know just what you’re saying.  So please stop explaining.  Don’t tell me…cause it hurts.

B) We live in a cynical world. A cynical world. And we work in a business of tough competitors. I love you. You… complete me.

Thank you, embedded ESPN video player.  Thank you.

For months now, Moore has been pouring glass after glass of punch for the Cult of Wade 2.0 (and by extension, the Cult of True Heat-hood), and I’ve thought about taking a sip.  I’m actually pretty parched.  But there was a slight conflict of interests — I kind of like the Mavs, and Dwyane Wade (who may or may not have had help from a crew of anthropomorphic zebras) kind of peed all over them on his quest for basketball domination in the summer of 2006.

No more.  I’m ready to fully embrace the new Wade — and I’m talking about the Wade beyond 2.0.

For me, the distinction between versions doesn’t have to rely on significant evolutions in Wade’s game.  Wade 1.0 defeated the Mavericks in the Finals, Wade 2.0 brought my opinions of him back into the world of general awe and indifference, and this new, yet to be truly defined edition has made me a legitimate fan.  That’s a pretty big swing in essentially two seasons.

His numbers are gaudy and impossible to ignore, but my growing infatuation with Wade comes mostly from the impossibly effortless way that he is wholly and completely full of effort.  Every drive the the basket looks like the equivalent of a morning jog for a man of truly transcendent talent, but what could easily be a double-clutch layup or a floater elevates and elevates into a dunk that signals relentlessness more than overwhelming athleticism.  When LeBron goes up to dunk on you, he’s a force of nature.  But we have ways to predict weather patterns, seismographs that measure tremors before an earthquake, and receding tides that warn of the hurricane to come.  When Wade goes up for a dunk on you, he finishes through Space Jam-esque disregard for the laws of space and time and an iron will.  So much of what he does on the court is possible because of that will alone, and it’s the catalyst that turns effort and talent into something else entirely.

One of the most beautiful things about what Wade has become is that he’s infinitely more ‘connected’ to the real world than LeBron (to whom he is inextricably linked).  LeBron is a unique specimen in almost any regard; he combines a one-in-a-bajillion physical profile with a ridiculous understanding of passing angles and an unparalleled ability to attack the basket.  To me, that means that you’ll never really see a “poor man’s LeBron.”  You might hear of a playmaking small forward and instinctively make the comparison, but James is so unique and so incredible that I seriously doubt he can ever be replicated, even for the sake of poor people.  Wade, on the other hand, is a 6’4” shooting guard.  He has limited range (though he didn’t show it last night, and he’s certainly on the rise), and is primarily a slasher.  Who shoots midrange jumpers.  And crazy, acrobatic layups.  And makes nutty passes.  Whatever.  The point is, though Wade may be just as undefinable, his success appears to be much more attainable.

Of course it’s not, and that’s what makes Wade so special.  Players will be declared disciples of the Wadian school and fooled into thinking that this type of play is somehow more mortal, but they’re wrong.  Dwyane Wade has achieved demi-god status, and there’s no going back.

We can’t call it Nova, because he’s been at this for a month, been coming close to it for a season. There’s no burn out. Just energy, pouring through Jamario Moon on ridiculously high dunks that actually matter, surging through Beasley’s confidence on the elbow jumper, blinding poor Salmons as he tries to dribble behind his back at the top of the keywith the most dangerous help defender in the game swooping to his weak hand, and igniting a fear in every team they face, and every team looking at them for the playoffs.

Seriously, if you’re the Hawks right now, aren’t you considering tanking? You held your ground with Boston last year, and you’re a better team, they’re a worse one. The Cavs are a tough order, but you have the athleticism to at least make it a contest. Orlando would be even worse, but they’re still fighting the “unproven” tag. The Heat certainly seems like the best option, but do you want to face this man?  Wade’s ruthless at this point. He has no aspirations beyond “Destroy whatever is in front of me and make people love me for it.” He missed crucial free throws tonight. HUGE free throws that he just did not hit. And those free throws pale to the ridiculous plays he made, including one of the most exciting last six seconds I can remember. When it was regulation and Gordon missed that free throw (which you just knew, Gordon being Gordon on a big night, he was going to miss one. I even talked him through it. “That’s it, Ben. Just think about the paycheck. That’s why you’re here. Think about shooting another three with a defender in your face. Think about taking the ball from Rose. That’s it…” CLANG!), I was pretty sure it was over. There’s no way the Bulls let him get a shot in this situation. I mean, you only have to guard one guy. You can live with Chalmers, Beasley, Cook, anyone. Just don’t let… NET.

Wade did it on 21 shots, tonight. 47 on 21 shots. 12 assists. 6 boards. 4 steals. 3 blocks. How is this guy getting into the paint and blocking guys out?

In second overtime, down two, Wade looked absolutely gassed. He had that look like there was nothing left. Like his body was giving up. The 1.0 look.

2.0 was simply pulling a rope-a-dope. He caught the ball at the slight left wing, and measured. Good defense by the Bulls. Man defender to guard the pull-up three, man-help on the drive. As long as he’s not able to get to the corner…BAM. It was like watching a cannonball soar through the air,and then hit its burst.

At this point, there’s nothing Wade’s not doing that would help his team. Defense, leadership, scoring, big shots, rebounding, hustle plays, savvy, consistency, efficiency, highlight reels, all of it. He had five turnover tonight. But if you have four steals and 12 assists, haven’t you made up for it?

This season has lacked some of the magic of last season. The Lakers dominance is part of it, the simple finality of the fact that they’ll be holding the trophy in June. The fall of the Suns and Mavericks is part, and the lack of a good surprise story. But maybe that’s what the Heat and Wade are. There’s a certain symmetry to this Heat squad. Reminiscent of Wade’s Caron and Odom team, bubbling over with talent and promise, the showcase of Wade and what he could be. Now he’s reached possibly his full potential, and he’s got another young nucleus to build around. They’ve come this far and they’re only a season removed from outright disaster.

The Eastern Conference top seeds may no longer just be playing for homecourt, they may be playing to avoid Wade.

We’re lucky to be watching this time, because as irritating as our fathers were with how they talked of how great the old stars were, we’re living in a similar time. Kobe, LeBron, Wade, Howard, Shaq, Nash,Deron, CP3, The Boston 4 (welcome, Rondo), the Portland Army, we get to watch them night in and night out. And in a little over a month’s time, we get to watch them (well most of them, thanks for playing Shaq) in what they were made for, a seven game series, not a one-off adventure, with strategy and moments and greatness. That’s been the shift this week. We’d been stuck in the doldrums of the post-Deadline-blues. But you can feel it now, just like spring. The playoffs are coming.

And good God, are they going to be intense.

***************

Other thoughts from Bulls-Heat:

Joakim Noah really is a pretty good basketball player. He’s not the kind of player you can build around, but he’s the kind of player you can’t win championships without.

Most of the people I was talking to online were rooting for triple-overtime, that’s how good this game is.

There are certain players where if they’re having a huge night, I’m pretty sure their team is going to lose. Ben Gordon is one such player. In order for him to put up gaudy numbers, he has to shoot. A lot. He only shot twice more than Wade. Which would be fine, if he should be the focal point of the offense. But he shouldn’t. And if he is, that means he’s running ISO, and that means he’s probably doing it when his team is out of position to rebound, which means no one is in a defensive set, which means Vinny Del Negro is coaching.

Mario Chalmers is really sharp for how much responsibility he has in the offense. It’ll be nice next year when Wade doesn’t have to bring the ball up as Chalmers’ maturity evolves.

Brad Miller looked pretty confused most of the time. Lots of effort, but that foul with 32 seconds left was abysmal. Keep your head, smokey.

I marvel at how good John Salmons is for how short his vertical is. Seriously. It’s a bunny hop. And he dunks!

The behind the basket shot of the Wade game-winner was awesome. Just awesome. I went back and checked the replay, and the steal looked clean. Trey noted that Salmons went one-on-one in the easiest to double zone on the floor. Wade actually double gambled on him, getting the strip the second time on the aforementioned behind the back dribble.

Hinrich was SORELY missed.

Moon is having the same kind of surge and effect on Wade as Delonte West has on LeBron. There’s a natural chemistry there, and it’s good to see him playing well again.

Eric Spoelstra after the Wade shot looked like a kid. Just amazed.

Wade immediately ran to the scorer’s table to celebrate with the fans, and in the post-game, mentioned his missed free throws. This is the guy you want leading your team.

I promise I’ll stop gushing once Cleveland/Boston exposes their numerous and precise flaws.

Imagine what happens if Orlando gets the one. We get Hawks-Heat, followed by Heat-Magic and possibly Cavs-Heat in the ECF. I’m sorry Boston, this is what’s best for us all.

Un. Believe. Able.

Reckless (adj.): utterly unconcerned about the consequences of some action; without caution; careless (usually fol. by of): to be reckless of danger.

Earlier in the season, I noted that the Andrew Bynum foul on Gerald Wallace deserved a suspension. Not because Bynum was trying to hurt anyone. He wasn’t.  At all.  The thought didn’t enter his mind. That’s the problem. It was a reckless play by the biggest guy on the court. When you have that kind of size, and that kind of speed, I’m of the opinion that as a professional, you need to have control of your body in order to avoid situations that could endanger the career and lives of your peers. Like, oh, say, internal bleeding.

But no! The world cried! It was just unfortunate! The injury should have no bearing! It was just a freak accident! Besides, Gerald Wallace has a history of injuries! Sure, none of them fall under the severity of internal freaking bleeding, but hey! Stone’s throw! What, you want to wussify basketball! This is just good, hard, playoff basketball! You don’t want to take a foul, don’t come in the lane!

A few days later, LeBron James went baseline against the Los Angeles Lakers. Bynum made a play on the ball. He had no regard for the results of his attempt on the ball. The result was him throwing LeBron to the ground. LeBron landed hard. He got up, because, um, the man’s a tank. But since that point, I’ve noticed LeBron focusing on his perimeter game, and he hardly attempted to drive inside until the fourth quarter of the 2nd matchup.

I’d noticed Ariza before. Ariza is a true Hustle Junkie. Nothing but foot on the pedal. The kind of guy you love if he’s on your side. Heck, with all the dunks and breakaway steals, most people in the general NBA loved his resurgence too. But I kept noticing that he’d dive for balls through players. He’d go for fouls with arms fully extended, often making a lot of contact. I mean, it was fun to watch. Seriously. But I kept thinking, “wow, that’s dangerous.” Again. And again.

Fernandez will most likely (thank God) be okay. And maybe it was just an isolated incident. A freak play. By no means was it dirty. Ariza wasn’t trying to club him in the head. The problem is not that Ariza meant to hurt him. It’s that he didn’t care if he did. It wasn’t dirty. It was reckless.

I’m not saying that players need to not touch each other on defense. I’m not saying there’s no place for hard fouls. I’m not saying that if a guy puts an elbow in your back, you don’t remind him next time he goes up. But there’s got to be some semblance of respect for the guys that share the floor with you. They’re trying to make a living, just the same as you. I’m in competition with another company, I don’t want to do something that results in their house getting torn down. You can want to win without abandoning regard for the safety of the other 6-foot to 7-foot full speed players you’re battling against. The game was over. Rudy was going up for a simple dunk.

Davis was just as guilty the other night. It’s not a matter of dirty (though the Celtics will definitely use whatever edge they feel is necessary). It’s a matter of reckless. And it’s a matter of not risking the health and livelihood of a guy over your frustration that you just got the forum blue beat out of you by a team that plays worse defense than you do.

We’ve seen two players hit the deck and go to the hospital as a result of a Lakers foul this season. What’s it going to take before the league sends a message, even one so simple as “Not a big deal, but keep control.”

What say you? Should NBA players be concerned with the safety of other players, or should they simply have one goal in mind, winning?

We’re pretty big on the Race for Eight around here, the battle for the East’s eight playoff spot.  Not just because it conveniently worked out that we each have a horse in the race, but because all of the teams are flawed in really interesting ways and most are actually playing some of their best ball this season.  Add in the fact that none of this matters because they’re gettting obliterated by the 1 seed and that there are six teams within 3.5 games of each other, and we’ve decided to put some extra effort into covering this race for you. And since there’s really no telling who’s going to win the thing (our money’s on the Bulls, which means our money’s on Vinny Del Negro, which means our money might as well be on Puff the Magic Dragon, who lives by the sea), we thought we’d put together a little tournament to determine who SHOULD win this thing, based on nine factors. Today’s factor is: COACHING!

Everyone had pretty much made up their minds about Larry Brown before this season started. Codger. Emotionally brutal. Curmudgeon. A torture artist to the youth. An old fashioned guy who road the coattails of the Pistons’ special brand of chemistry to a championship (their only one). The guy who was so acerbic, he helped tear apart the Knicks locker room (even if it’s become clear that locker room was a disaster area to start). There was no way he would be able to grow the young Bobcats into anything worthwhile. And for a while, it seemed that way. Then things started to click. And when the pieces didn’t click, the Bobcats abandoned the youth movement for players who could actually, you know, play.

As a general rule, I always reward youth movements and tend to look down on sacrificing long-term potential for a quick fix with veterans. But when you saw this team post-Diaw and Bell’s arrival, you saw a remarkably different club. A team that got what Brown was selling. The fundamentals. Crisp passing. Active defense without gambling. Smart fouls. Doing the things that get you wins. Brown’s entire philosophy depends on a high level of basketball IQ. A lot of this comes from his time, oddly, in the ABA. Even though that was a pretty reckless and out there league, the talent distribution wasn’t as even as it is in the NBA. There was a bigger gap between your average star and your average bench player than there is in the NBA. So if you’re going to win, everybody’s got to know what they’re doing. That’s the theory, anyway.

And it’s not like Brown hasn’t done anything inventive. Think about the fact that in essence, he’s starting three forwards. Emeka Okafor is pretty close to a true center, but I wouldn’t call him an absolute center. Gerald Wallace has been saved from having to play the power forward spot (and still got himself seriously injured, but I digress). And Diaw is fluttering in between the 3 and 5, mixing in and at times, running focal point for the offense from the elbow. Diaw’s become largely everything you wanted to see from him in Phoenix. But instead of other players who plummetted once they were removed from 7SOL, Diaw has flourished, and his inside passing is a huge reason for the Cats’ success. And that’s a system to credit Brown with.

Furthermore, when I asked DJ Augustin at Summer League if he was worried about Brown and his reputation on young point guards, he didn’t express anything but excitement at the challenge. I thought the kid was either feeding me stock answers or in denial. But Augustin has flourished, alongside Raymond Felton, who no one thought Brown could reach. Augustin is not only showing the flashes of a talented rookie, but doing the things on the floor that Brown wants him to in order to gain minutes. Throw in the fact that Brown has turned a phenomenally shallow team with sub-par starters into a well-rounded team with at least adequate depth,and the fact that this team knows what it’s doing on inbound plays and when it should foul,and Brown’s got the edge in this matchup for the Playoff Paroxysm.

Skiles and D’Antoni are the other candidates, but as much fun as the Bucks have been, it’s been a complete antithesis of “The Skiles Way.” Porous defense. Insufficient fundamentals. Technicals. Highlight reels. Skiles still has not fully committed to Ramon Sessions, despite his brilliant play. Ridnour has been great at times, and runs the offense well, but there’s simply no reason for him to take Sessions’ minutes. His greatest accomplishment may have been what he’s managed to pull out of V-Nuv. But then, that’s always been there, and it may have simply been V-Nuv getting it. Skiles deserves credit,but not enough to overtake Brown.

D’Antoni is a stronger challenge. The Knicks are not a good basketball team, talent-wise. What’s always been incredible about D’Antoni (and by always, I mean the last five years) is that he’s able to take guys who’s deficiencies would glare out at you, and turn them into players you say “You know, he’s really good at X.” He puts players in positions to showcase their strengths.  And he’s done that. Nate Robinson. David Lee. Earlier in the season it was Crawford. Now it’s Harrington. And the fact that they’re able to pull it enough together to even be in on this race, with the cap-saving moves they’ve put in place? That’s a pretty phenomenal job. But up against Brown’s defense and fundamentals, with a superior roster, who’s got the edge, really? As good as Mike is, he works exponentially with talent. Start low and he’ll finish strong. Start strong, and he’ll get jobbed by Steve Kerr. But with these matchups, not enough to overtake Brown.

Jim O’Brien’s been really good in Indiana, when you consider the injuries. And really, he’s put together some phenomenal accomplishments given that roster. But at some point, you have to look at how disorganized they look on offense sometimes, at how much time certain players get, and about their defensive inability to get stops when they need them. Good, not great, not enough to get the W here. Lawrence Frank, same kind of deal. He’s operating with the most talent of any of these teams, and they’re still not getting anywhere. They can’t get any momentum. And too often, his out of bounds last second plays consist of “get that guy the ball.” So though Frank has certainly proven that with top level talent he can take them to the top, I don’t think necessarily with this crew he’s got what it takes to edge the rest.

Then there’s Vinny Del Negro.

…

And that’ll do it! Bobcats take the W and jump out to a lead. We’ll bring you continuing coverage of the Playoff Paroxysm for the next nine days, and then throughout as the ACTUAL race sorts itself out. Stay tuned.

MARK IT ZERO!

So, STAT’s out for the year, which sucks. He’s become a polarizing figure without actually being outspoken this year. He’s the big man alternative to Ben Gordon in a lot of ways. It’s not that he’s a bad player, he’s actually a very, very good basketball player. But his weaknesses stick out like a sore thumb and he thinks he’s worth more than he is. The difference is, you can actually build a team around Stoudemire, he’s not a black hole, and Ben Gordon plays better defense.

Not having him around means we can look forward to about a million more questions about him over the coming summer. If the Suns go on an amazing streak and somehow make some progress in the playoffs, the question will be if Amare was holding them back. If they flame out, it might be time to blow the whole thing up, and he would be the first to go. And the entire time, dude had to have freaking EYE surgery. That’s messed up right there, dude.

So let’s go over the good and the bad of this.

Good:

• Louis Amundson gets more burn, and he’s incredibly entertaining.
• Brief spells with Matt Barnes playing center, which is hilarious.
• Less discussion of how Shaq and Amare get along.
• Better defense.
• Possibility of summer intrigue.
• Possibility of fashionable eyepatches.

Bad:

• The dude had his retina detach and had to get surgery. On his eye.
• No Nash-Amare highlights for the rest of the year.
• More Shaq.
• Possibility of no Suns in the playoffs.
• Endless questions about his health over the summer.

Feel better, Amar’e. And dude, maybe lose the apostrophe. It’s brought nothing but bad luck. Like a black cat. Or Stephon Marbury.

Oh, and on top of traditional medicine and a holistic approach, please look into cybernetics. The opportunity to nickname you the STA- T-800 is too tempting to resist.