When Watch The Throne (the Jay-Z/Kanye West collaboration, duh) was released to the masses, the immediate Twitter reaction on was one of the most incredible events I’d ever seen transpire online.  Not only did everyone feel a need to voice their opinion, but every tweeter took at least 20 tweets to thoroughly establish their point. It was a great night to be alive and on Twitter.

The album has been out for a few days now, and the Twitter floods have subsided for the most part. However, trickling in are opinions from our favorite athletes! And understandably, their approval means a lot more than what our best friends think.

Here’s what Brandon Jennings thought about the album:

This UMMMMMM "Watch the Throne" smhhhhh WOW!!!!! #Amazing

August 7, 2011 5:51 pm via Twitter for BlackBerry®ReplyRetweetFavorite

@BL00dline3

Brandon Jennings

But sometimes, you just can’t express how you feel about something in 140 characters. Sometimes, you really have to show people.

(NSFW, because Jay-Z tends to say bad words)

This is T.J. Ford vibing out to “N—- In Paris.” Now, Ford doesn’t exactly say anything. He kind of just bobs his head around with a face that conveys an expression that somehow toes the line of supreme satisfaction and complete-and-utter apathy. He wouldn’t be able to explain that on Twitter — mainly because that last sentence comes out to 158 characters.

And this is Zaza Pachulia being Zaza Pachulia. He isn’t singing a Watch The Throne song, but rather electronic artist Cassius’ “I Love U So”, the original version of what Mr. Hudson covers on “Why I Love You.” However, considering the massive amount of hype that WTT has garnered, it isn’t crazy to think that Zaza found the original through Kanye West’s version. Surely it wouldn’t be the first time Kanye popularized an electronic artist. Remember Daft Punk’s sudden boom once “Stronger” hit the radio?

Granted, neither of them actually let out so much as a whisper, but still: sounds so soulful, don’t you agree?

Photo by Jennifer Endom

It’s been a little more than a month since the lockout began. That’s it. Time has limped and crawled since the official end of the NBA season, and at best we’re looking at another three months of non-activity. For NBA players, the lockout has become a simulation of life after the NBA — after guaranteed contracts and endorsements are over. And like the inevitable slide that occurs with age, the lockout and all of its undesired effects are largely out of their control. This drought has made it clear that basketball won’t always be present on the horizon.

For current players locked out, it means twiddling their thumbs (not literally) while the storm passes. Still, they are lucky. Within a year, the process will resume. Basketball will be played, and large quantities of money will be made. For an unfortunate group of others, an NBA lockout has become a permanent reality.

CBS Sports’ Jeff Goodman detailed the struggles of the high school recruiting class of 2002, a class that was supposed to be one of the most talented in years. In the top five are familiar all-stars in Amar’e Stoudemire, Carmelo Anthony, and Chris Bosh. Three names. But going down the list into the top-25, names are hazy — some uttered with a faint recollection and others with a sigh. Out of the 25 players, only a few managed to survive on their NBA journey.

Amar’e Stoudemire, Carmelo Anthony, Raymond Felton, Chris Bosh and J.J. Redick.

Yes, that’s it.

“Are you serious?” Redick said when informed there were only five NBA guys. “That is nuts. No way.”

“Those numbers are alarming,” added former UNC star Sean May, who spent last year in Turkey. “We had one of the best high school classes ever.”

via Class of 2002 a cautionary tale for today’s All-Americans | CBSSports.com

Other names in the top-25 include:

• Former Timberwolves/Kings gunner Rashad McCants, who was ranked No. 4 in the nation. He’s since been exiled from the NBA, more for his eccentricities than any malicious doing.
• Sean May, whose conditioning woes and frequent injuries have kept him away from the league.
• Four-year Duke point guard Sean Dockery, who may be most remembered for his rivalry with Will Bynum for Chicago supremacy. Bynum currently plays for the Detroit Pistons. Dockery never played in an NBA game.
• Lenny Cooke, a player primed to be the next star NBA swingman. Goodman wrote an excellent feature on his fall from stardom, and how he’s picked up the pieces.

Of course, these are only a few of them.

Yahoo! Sports’ Marc Spears noted that numerous NBA players have returned to college during the lockout. The work stoppage has players adopting a new perspective on their life not only as basketball players. There is life after basketball. Those forced into a head start on that life echo the importance of education:

“Get your degree,” [Michael] Thompson said. “Everyone that was there won’t be there when it goes sour. Everyone blowing smoke up your ass won’t be there. Go to a good school because, at the end of the day, you have yourself. No one is going to help you.”

via Class of 2002 a cautionary tale for today’s All-Americans | CBSSports.com

There are no tragedies here, but the account of so many dashed dreams is certainly unfortunate. These forgotten faces from the Class of 2002 serve as a reminder that there is no perfect formula for NBA success. Relevance one day can swiftly and unmercifully be taken away. But fate and success — in the NBA and otherwise — favors (but does not guarantee) those with a stable foundation. Players both past and present are learning that it’s never too late to start building.

Serge Ibaka came off the bench for the Spanish national team in yesterday’s Eurobasket 2011 exhibition match against France. He scored nine points on 4-7 shooting, part of a balanced attack that had France reeling from the onset. Looking solely at the numbers, it was a modest performance. Still, it was a far cry from our last encounter with Ibaka — Game 5 of the 2011 Western Conference Finals where he had more fouls (4) than points (2).

While four made baskets isn’t much to discuss, the execution definitely deserves mention. Ibaka displayed the kind of confidence in his jumper that would compel coach Scott Brooks to declare Ibaka’s midrange jumpshot the best on the Thunder. In the 17 games Ibaka played in last season’s playoffs, about 39% of Ibaka’s made field goals were jump shots, according to Synergy Sports. It’s an increasingly vital area to his game, and his talents were on full display in the match. His spot up game was evident, but most promising was a turnaround jumper from inside the free throw line that left just enough to the imagination. Ibaka’s offensive potential is scary; scarier still, his skills are still rudimentary. He has the form and release down. He’s nimble and agile. His footwork is constantly improving. The only thing left is combining these isolated elements into a cohesive package and attaining (and maintaining) consistency.

Playing behind both Pau and Marc Gasol can only help, though that probably goes without saying. Ibaka has consistently been known throughout his career as a quick learner, and there might not be a better experience for him at this stage in his career than learning from two of the most fundamentally sound big men in the world. That kind of tutelage might’ve been worth the process of nationalization itself. Though through any lens, Ibaka’s decision to become a Spanish citizen offers a look at Ibaka’s commitment to this game.

“Spain has become like a second home for me a new country. If I am the one I am today, it is in part due to my days playing over there. I never stopped learning and getting better when I was in Spain. I felt at home, like a Spaniard.”

via Serge Ibaka: Spain is like a second home for me | TalkBasket.net

National pride has a lot to do with international sporting competition, but reducing the games to a symbolic flag-waving competition ignores elements to the experience that stray away from nationalism. The yearly gathering of the world’s best and brightest talents serves as a model U.N. of sorts, advancing the language of sports — a language that with every passing year grows in its universality.

Serge Ibaka became a nationalized citizen and is playing for the Spanish team despite only spending three years in the country as a teenager. But playing for a country means more than just having blood ties to the land. Ultimately, beyond the national colors, it’s still about basketball. Spain was the country that fostered his development, expanded his understanding of the game, and opened doors to opportunities that weren’t previously there. This isn’t necessarily a debt being paid, just a player mindful of his journey — and the people in it — doing his best to say “thank you.”

Pictured above (on the left — that is obviously Arnold Schwarzenegger on the right) is Sergei Bakalov, a personal fitness/dance instructor based in Columbus, Ohio. Any similarities Bakalov’s name might share with the title of this piece (“Serge Ibaka Love”) is just an awesome coincidence. 

Here’s the most important thing to realize about the Pro Football Hall of Fame: It does not exist.

The pro Basketball Hall of Fame doesn’t exist, either. The Baseball Hall of Fame is equally unreal, in the same way that all Halls of Fame1 are unreal. There are certainly buildings that house these fabricated facilities in Ohio and Massachusetts and New York, and you can drive to them and buy a ticket and walk inside, and the various rooms are filled with statues and arcane uniforms and officially licensed shot glasses available for purchase in the various gift shops. You can see these things and you can tap your fingers on the glass display cases and you can buy a cup of coffee that will taste and smell and burn like coffee, but this experience is no different than living in The Matrix: It’s a construction of the mind. It’s multiple layers of symbols and simulation that are meaningless unless we decide a meaning must exist. But because this is what we do (and because we all do it, without even wondering why), the Pro Football Hall of Fame represents the pinnacle achievement within a life in football. Players and coaches love to insist that the most important goal in their professional lives is the winning of championships, but they are all lying when they say that. Either they are lying consciously or they’re so socialized by the omnipresence of that childish falsehood that they’ve actually convinced themselves Jeff Hostetler’s career was more fulfilling than Dan Marino’s, simply because Scott Norwood missed a field goal in 1991. The Hall of Fame does not exist, so it’s unaffected by reality; it matters more than reality, because ideas are more important than actions.

via Chuck Klosterman on the Pro Football Hall of Fame induction – Grantland.

The Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame is very real – as real as Damon Stoudamire.

There’s a beautiful sense of contemporary nostalgia among the displays on the three floors of the museum in Springfield. The body floats on, as if riding a moving walkway, while the mind wanders and appreciates that which draws one’s attention. It is a celebration of much more than those who reached the pinnacle of the game – the Hall strives to encapsulate all of basketball history. To argue that the Hall isn’t real is to dismiss the experience of re-reading The Undisputed Guide to Pro Basketball History’s section on the basketball’s early barnstorming teams, including an all-female team called “the Redheads,” then seeing their jersey on display.

That is what the Hall of Fame accomplishes at its very best: a sense of connecting both with history and one’s own personal relationship to the game and its characters. For the best and most important members of basketball’s story, the circle of enshrinement falls flat – a dimly lit parlor with small displays (though it does contain some fascinating artifacts of the game) unbecoming of so many larger-than-life people.

—

The Hall truly belongs to the cogs of history who find their names and jerseys on display to help paint a more detailed picture. People like Stoudamire, whose Toronto jersey is on display both as a sign of the international expansion of the game and the…interesting design choices made by the Raptors of that era. As a University of Arizona alum, the jersey reminds me of cheering like crazy for the Wildcats even as a kid. Their Final Four trip in the mid-90s made me want to go to school in Tucson. To see Stoudamire’s jersey was to be taken on a ride through the course of my life. Not everyone will have that connection to Stoudamire, of course, but I guarantee there’s at least one display that has a similar effect for most people.

In that context, Klosterman is absolutely right. Much of the “meaning” of the Hall of Fame comes from layers and layers of symbols that we overlay on a not-quite-impressive building that has Cold Stone and Subway signs hanging on the doors and garbage can-quality team mini-basketballs for sale in the gift shop. The idea of being elected to “the Hall of Fame” is ethereal and being offended by a museum’s decision to leave you out of their club seems rather short-sighted.

None of that will matter to the people inducted into the imaginary land of Springfield on Friday night. Perhaps they will “die” as basketball players in our mind on that night, as Klosterman says. Maybe from that point on we’ll view them only within the context of  those who followed and how they measure up. And it will matter even less to the less athletic, the less accomplished, who find their way to Springfield as well to become part of the lore of our game. The meaning we imbue in the Hall resonates in these seemingly insignificant that, for some reason, someone saw fit to put on display.

It’s funny how that bit of forethought worked out.

Twitter awoke from its 113-day long slumber (and don’t try to tell me that twitter’s been fine without basketball. That’s a lie, and you know it) to revel in the friendly between Spain and France today. Full of surreal moments – Serge Ibaka hitting 20-foot jumpers with regularity, Marc Gasol and Nic Batum displaying a camaraderie that crosses international borders and finds a home in the NBA, and Andre the Giant announcing – the game was a dream occasion to watch real NBA players in a game that {almost [kind of (not at all)]} mattered.*

*That is to say, the result didn’t matter. The game itself absolutely mattered. It established Spain, with its barnstorm-worthy lineup, as the clear favorite going into Eurobasket. It showed us that Ibaka might develop a decent offensive repertoire. It gave us Gasol-to-Gasol on the fastbreak. Most importantly, it gave us all a nice reprieve from an offseason that feels more barren than it is because of whitewashed team websites and a looming leviathan.

Not all dreams are pleasant, though.

Batum left the game during the third quarter with what Fabrice Auclert of BasketUSA.com said was an apparent injury to his teeth or mouth. He returned to action in the fourth quarter but the site called Tuesday’s game a “nightmare evening” for Batum.

via Spain Drops France In EuroBasket Tune-up – Blazer’s Edge.

Poor Nicolas. Today, he was the kid at summer camp who fell into a patch of poison oak, had to deal with the drunk “nurse” in the infirmary, glued his hands together during arts and crafts, then was forced by that too peppy counselor to participate in the potato sack race. Upon which he tripped over a rake left out by the “I’m too old for this s—” janitor, knocked out two of his adult teeth, and found that his parents lied to him and went on a vacation of their own – out of the country, naturally – during his time at camp and can’t be contacted.

It’s a memory that none of us will forget; that one time during the dog days of summer where we got to gather around our technological campfire and swap stories while listening to two men clamor on in French. Those are always the best of times, you guys.

It – and the scars – will stick with Batum for a long time, too.

Photo by UltimateGingerbread from Flickr

He doesn’t just want that to be the coach’s philosophy. It appears he wants it to be a part of who the person is at the very core, someone whose “DNA is up-tempo.”

“Someone whose DNA is, ‘That’s how I coached. That’s how my teams have played. That’s how I believe we should play,’” Kahn said. “Because we’ve very carefully built this roster over the last couple years to play this style of play.”

via David Kahn of Minnesota Timberwolves wants ‘up-tempo DNA’ in next coach – ESPN.

While they were free from a coach unable to stock their pantry with wins, times were indeed dark for David Kahnsel and Glentel Taylor. After severing ties with Rambis the Woodcutter, the two boys fled into the forests of Minnesota, yearning to find the sustenance they were sure they needed.

“If only we can find up-tempo!” Kahnsel constantly cried, much to the cosnternation of Glentel. Glentel started to lose faith in Kahnsel and his plan, but at this point had little to gain by venturing out on his own. The raving maniac, his cravings for speed, his steadfast belief in the recipe he carried with him and the need to find the right cook – all Glentel could do was hang on for dear life and hope that his brother would lead him to a place where his idea of a feast was more than .500.

Then, a clearing – and what a sight! A home, miraculously constructed of fast breaks, open-court smashes, and Magic Johnson’s smile appeared before the two men. From the open windows wafted the aroma of victory and contentment. Kahnsel and Glentel shared a glance. As quickly as the trees parted, their faces became alight with new-found grins. Here was their new home! Here was their triumph!

Kahnsel, the manifestation of his desires, charged like a madman for the door. He prepared to knock, only to find the door flung open by a kindly old man with a gleam in his eye. Dressed impeccably, with salt and pepper hair and a pair of spectacles that screamed “wisdom,” he was everything Kahnsel ever wanted.

“Your home, sir, is lovely! My brother and I are orphans searching for a place to spend the night and a bite to eat. Might we bother you?” Glentel spoke up as his slack-jawed brother stood in wide-eyed admiration.

The old man smiled and, without a word, gestured to the boys to enter. He led them to the kitchen – a raucous room, striking a balance between alchemical experimentation and gastronomical exploitation. Here were things that should not be – whole ducks roasted in the blink of an eye, egg timers that measured nanoseconds and molecules of water with so much energy that they existed naturally as steam.

“Please, boys, sit down. I’ll be right back!”

As they excitedly sat at a small table in a room adjoining the kitchen, Khnhsel could hardly contain his enthusiasm. “We’ve found a new home! We’re finally going to get everything we wanted, Gentel!”

“Let’s make sure this guy is everything he seems he is first, Kahnsel. We don’t want to make any hasty dec…”

That suddenly, the old man was back. His arms flowed with trays of food and drink – for a split second, anyway, before he set them down faster than either boy could see. Lightning was in this man’s DNA, flying back and forth between the two rooms, piling the table higher and higher until it strained and squeaked under the load.

“Eat boys! Eat! There’s so much more! FASTER! YOU ARE NOT EATING FAST ENOUGH!”

Half from terror, half from hunger, Kahnsel and Glentel choked down as much as they could as quickly as they could. They became incredibly sloppy as they became more and more laden by the burden of speed. Every other bite ended up on the floor or on their clothes. Glasses were raised and liquids spilled over the shoulder in a desperate attempt to keep up with the untenable pace. Soon the boys could do nothing but react to the flow of solids and liquids around them. There was no time to think. There was no time to plan.

Most detrimental of all, there was no time to feel. As they ate, the old man circled the table, taking bite after bite out of Kahnsel and Glentel. Yet in their furious flurry, neither brother had the time to stop and consider the situation. Neither could question whether what they were doing was right. In seven courses or less, both boys were rendered skeletons, completely cannibalized by Kahnsel’s dreams.

And the worst part of all? Timberwolves fans had to watch on television the entire time.

Photo by xxmirjanaxx on Flickr

I’ve been continuing a little rehab on my knee and now I’m back working out. I’ve been really working on my mental approach to the game. I’ve done that by watching film, studying myself, and being more analytical, rather than spontaneous, in my everyday life. I must say though, the highlight of my summer has been my wedding!

via Charlotte Observer - Bobcats’ Tyrus Thomas rehabbing his way through lockout

Tyrus Thomas has been one of the poster children for athletic, gifted players who lack the consistency or mental approach to truly succeed in the league. Think Darius Miles, Lamar Odom (to a certain degree), Josh Smith, Stromile Swift, Jonathan Bender, etc. Those long players between 6’8-6’11 that should be dominating at multiple positions, throwing up triple-doubles and altering our perception of a basketball player.

Instead, these players tend to never pan out, or live up to their potential. They have all of the physical tools in the world, just not the mindset to match it or maximize their talents. After their playing days, or towards the backend of their careers, their mindset begins to shift, as their athleticism fades and their skills (and thought process) have to be honed to stay competitive. Once they can’t gracefully move up and down the floor, lay the ball in from the free-throw line, or effortlessly defend players half their size, they have an epiphany of sorts.

Some, such as Odom, find a particular niche and are perfectly fine with their careers. Others, such as Bender, have utter regret about the way their career turned out. Thomas probably finds himself somewhere in the middle. He’s starting to find himself as an athletic game-changer on both ends of the floor, but he probably has higher expectations for himself as a former number four pick. He wants to develop a go-to post move (or maybe one in general).

At 25 (in nine days), Thomas will soon be entering the prime of his career. His averages of 17.5 points and 9.4 rebounds per 36 min. are up there with some of the better power forwards, so if he can stay out of foul trouble (4.7 per 36 min.) and learn to develop a more cohesive offensive game, Thomas can see his average of 21.0 minutes per game increase to upwards of 30.

The biggest takeaway is that Thomas wants to change. He’s watching film, studying his own game, and being analytical, to paraphrase Thomas. Very rarely do players realize what they’re doing wrong in the beginning/middle of their careers. It’s usually at the end, when it’s too late to change things. But Thomas has a chance to make something of himself, to live up to the potential he showed at LSU and in Chicago. Eventually, they all grow up.

Photo by Andre Fran from Flickr

Howard wrote back, “that upsets me cuz I don’t wait till the playoffs to play hard. I give y’all my best everynite. Y becuz some people don’t get a chance to be at everygame. And I want them to always remember the nite they saw me play. So. I play for y’all. I feed off the fans. ESP at home. It’s a different atmosphere in the playoffs at the arena. That same atmosphere should be during the season.”

via Orlando Sentinel – Dwight Howard wants fans to be louder during regular season

Dwight Howard has a problem with Orlando. Not with the roster, although he’s said he needs more help. Not with Stan Van Gundy, even though he’s criticized him for his use of Gilbert Arenas. And not with GM Otis Smith, despite the fact that Howard was upset that he didn’t have much say in the Magic’s recent trades. No, Howard’s problem is much different, and possibly much worse; it’s with the fans.

In at least his third recent remark criticizing the Magic fans and community, Howard took another shot at the citizens that basically help pay his salary. In early June, Howard said:

“And I want the Magic to do whatever they can to make sure that we can get our city behind us. That’s the only thing that I want to happen: just to have the city behind me and the support of our fans.”

via ESPN.com – Dwight Howard: Orlando is first choice

Call me crazy, but that’s a backhanded cheap shot at the fans, basically saying they’re not that supportive of their only sports team. I’m not a Magic fan, and don’t regularly attend or watch games, so I can’t validate whether or not Howard’s claims are true. It appears the luxury and box suites are located close to the court, dulling the fan’s cheering, which could be the source of the problem. Or it could be Howard is taking the easy way out and blaming the fans on his way out.

Whenever there’s a messy breakup in the NBA, it usually has to do with teammates (Kobe vs. Shaq), money (Carlos Boozer), coaching/player differences (John Kuester), or a terrible GM (Isiah Thomas). Rarely, if ever, is it about the team lacking fan support. No one ever blames the fans, at least not continuously. But Howard has, does and will keep doing so.

Howard says the fans support will be a major factor in him returning to the Magic or not. Really? Not the roster, coach or GM? I don’t buy that for a second. It’s a cop out. I understand that a rawdy crowd can help motivate or inspire you to play harder/better, but why should their approval or support be your main motivation? What about beating the Heat or not losing to the Hawks in the first round? What about being a top-10 center of all-time? Winning a championship? Do the fans really have that much sway in your basketball career?

If you want to leave Orlando, do it for greener pastures, not better fans. If the atmosphere is boring, which it may be, do something about it. Figure out a way to increase fan attendance and activity. Make the “D-fence” chants louder. But son’t complain and isolate your customers; especially not now. Howard normally epitomizes his Superman persona to a tee, but publicly criticizing the citizens he serves to protect is far from anything the Man of Steel would do.

Photo by ndunnewind from Flickr

If the Heat cannot sign preferred choices Shane Battier, Grant Hill or Tayshaun Prince postlockout, Miami will consider Michael Redd and Tracy McGrady, among others.

via UM’s Armstrong, Forston, Benjamin trying to take next step – Sports Buzz – MiamiHerald.com.

The Miami Heat were two games (or fourth quarters) away from winning the NBA title. Not bad for a roster assembled right before (and during) the season. Regardless of your feelings towards LeBron & Co., there has to be a sense of admiration for what they achieved. Building a championship-level team isn’t easy, it takes time. More importantly, it takes team chemistry. Talent doesn’t always prevail, despite false perceived notions. The fact that Miami destroyed the Boston Celtics and Chicago Bulls Keyser Soze-style is praiseworthy; it was truly an amazing sight to see.

When the Heat were at their best, there might have been a more fun team to watch other than … wait for it … the Dallas Mavericks. No, they didn’t match the Celtics’ 2008 success and win it all. But for all of their flaws, which were much more notable than the ’08 Celtics’ squad, they still managed to compete for a title. More importantly, it appears time  is their friend, as they’ll have at least a few years to win multiple championships.

Assuming this lockout eventually ends, there will have to be some sort of free agency period, in which the Heat will try and find their missing piece. As of right now, only James, Wade, Bosh, Joel Anthony, Udonis Haslem, Mike Miller, Mario Chalmers and Norris Cole are under contract, a pretty top-heavy roster lacking size and shooting (unless Miller returns to form). Unless Chalmers is their desired PG, which is debatable, the Heat may look for an upgrade their as well. And oh yeah, there’s that missing piece down low, where Anthony has done his best to hold down the fort.

As mentioned in the above quotation, the Heat are looking at the elite wings of this free agent class (Butler and Kirilenko excluded). The logic here is that Miller isn’t that good, so the Heat will need someone who can back up Wade and James for 15-20 minutes a night. In a perfect world it’s Battier or Hill (Prince isn’t likely to. But this isn’t a perfect world. Both will likely command much more lucrative offers, and the Heat will likely not have much more than the veteran’s minimum to offer. Of course, either one could take a massive pay-cut in leu of winning a title, but even joining a star-studded Heat team wouldn’t assure Battier or Hill of their elusive NBA championship.

Sorry to Scott Leedy in advance, but T-Mac and Redd aren’t the answer either. McGrady surpassed expectations last season, but wasn’t that good of a player. He can provide ballhandling and passing, plus an all-around game, but won’t provide the shooting the Heat need to help stretch the floor. At the minimum? Maybe. But anything more? No thanks. Which brings us to Redd, one of the better shooters of the past decade. He’s injury-prone, and probably nothing more than a spot-up shooter at this point.

The Heat, as currently constructed, are fine. Yeah, they have flaws, but they also have two of three best perimeter players and another top-10 big man. Chalmers took major strides last season, looking more and more like a starting PG for years to come. He still has wrinkles he needs to iron out, but he’s a good, cheap option. Haslem and Anthony do adequate jobs as the ‘other’ big, each bringing something different to the table (most notably defense and toughness). Cole has decent potential and will hopefully bring back his awesome flattop. Miller does Miller things; he’s a shooter who dealt with hand and thumb problems all season. Maybe next year he comes back better. Maybe not. Either way, they’re stuck with him.

The point is, the Heat will be contending for the next five seasons whether or not they add another ‘big’ piece. But, if they choose to do so, they must be smart, as one mistake (like Miller, at this point) can completely destroy their cap space. There’s not doubt that the Miller/Jones wing combo off the bench can be improved upon, but going out and spending a lot of money on bench players that play the same position as your two best players isn’t a smart idea. Add size, shooting or athleticism. Go get Sam Dalembert. Go get Raymond Felton (just kidding). If you want to improve, add where you’re weak, not where you’re strong.

Photo courtesy of Billboard.com.

This edition of Got Skillz is not, strictly speaking, about the musical pursuits of basketball players. As anybody with a functional Twitter account no doubt is well aware, last night saw the release of Watch the Throne, the hotly anticipated new album from Kanye West and Jay-Z. The track “Gotta Have It” features this line from Kanye: “Ain’t that where the Heat play?/N***as hate ballers these days/Ain’t that like LeBron James?” To which Jay responds: “Ain’t that just like D-Wade?” Rappers name-check ballers all the time, but this one felt strikingly appropriate. An album-length collaboration from Kanye and Hov is more or less equivalent to LeBron and Wade teaming up in Miami, and comes with many of the same questions.
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