NBA Dramatique, Prelude 9

"We’re called the Warriors because no other word would fit us!” laughed the great white bear of a man. He sat awkwardly cross-legged on the dirt of the ground. Monta wondered how he would find the strength and agility to propel his massive body back to his feet, and almost smiled. “We fight! We’re not the kind of men that think with our heads! We let actions think for us, and sometimes that’s going to help us win. Sometimes it will make us lose. I know that you’re down on yourself, young one. You should be. It was a damned stupid thing that you did. But you will learn from the stupid. You’ll learn from your mistake. You’ll get hungrier. Your friends will expect that hunger from you. Even in moments when you aren’t sure that you feel it, you will see that they expect the fire in your belly. And your need to prove your worthiness to them will bring the hunger back.” The fire crackled in the night air before Monta said anything.

“I hope so. I feel terrible. This was my chance to step up. I feel like the opportunity was put in front of me and I blew it.”

“You didn’t blow it, Monta. I’m telling you, this is what we are. We’re not supposed to do anything right! Hahaha! We hide in the bushes. We sneak around at night. We hit you when you aren’t looking. We look disorganized, and you know what? We are disorganized! People come and people go. You think that it all falls on your shoulders because one guy walked away? One guy!?”

“Well, I guess I do think that” Monta replied.

“Monta, no one guy is that important. As we scramble about the land night after night, some guys decide they don’t want to do it anymore and we never see ‘em again. Some guys decide to join up with a bunch that has a little more organization. They just leave. On the other hand, sometimes somebody we’ve never seen before is fighting along with us like he’s been there from day one. Sometimes we talk guys into leaving those stuffy armies and running free with us. See Ronny over there? Just a few months ago, he was fighting under the Banner, trying to take down the Bastion. Why is he here? I don’t know. I don’t care! It doesn’t matter. He’ll contribute, and that’s all that matters. Guys come and go, Monta. You can’t let yourself believe that one guy makes the difference. So look at yourself. You’re hurt. It doesn’t matter now why you’re hurt. What matters is that you might not be ready to fight when the fight comes. It’s coming soon, I think. I’ve heard noises in the brush, and I think we’re being followed. But if you’re not ready, Mad Jack will be. Andris will be. "Machete" Maggette will be. All of these guys will fight hard while you rest and heal. All they’ll expect in return is that when you can fight, you fight like you have catching up to do.” He fell silent and took a swig of his brew. He was sure that he heard a twig break under the foot of a lurking predator deep in the trees. He was not afraid. “Will you fight when you’re ready?”

“I will. Thanks, Nell.”

“Don’t thank me. Just go out and kill.”

NBA Dramatique, Prelude 8

Joe was all business. He ran the largest factory in the land, and was proud of the product that his factory manufactured. That didn’t mean he was a happy man. Quite the opposite, really. Joe was a man who was never quite satisfied. He knew that to remain competitive, you always had to be one step ahead of the other guy, or at least be ready to catch up quickly. Joe was always trying to find that extra something that was going to put him over the top.

Joe had fired his foreman. The Factory had not managed to out-produce the other warring nations last year (or the year before) under that guy, and as a result their armies had not suffered the attrition and failed supply lines that he had been hoping to force. Joe had a lean army that he drew from the ranks of The Factory’s workers, ensuring cost-effectiveness and reliability. They were a hard-working crew that he felt he could count on. Yet they hadn’t been focused to a sharp enough point on the battlefield, so the sharpener had to be replaced. The new foreman would be arriving any day now.

There were mumblings and rumors that maybe the worker-soldiers grew weary as the war stretched on. People suggested that Joe and/or the old foreman worked the men too hard and expected too much from too few. Joe thought that was a load of crap. He thought about his best guys and the drive of those men. Rip was fast and efficient. Chauncey was a capable and effective team leader. Max was a powerhouse – full of hustle. Wallace was a firecracker that strangers tended to dislike and distrust, but Joe knew that grew out of Wallace’s inner perfectionist. Prince was a go-to guy who always did exactly what you needed him to do. The descriptions in Joe’s mind for these men were true of their roles both in the factory and in a fight. They were solid and consistent. There were other guys, of course. Grunts. Second and third shift guys. He would probably need to lay a few guys off before things really got underway this year. Keep things tight and efficient.

Joe was up early. He was always the first man on the job. It was just about time to flip on the lights.

NBA Dramatique, Prelude 7

Trays were filled with slop. Men shuffled through the food line accepting what they were given, able to muster no enthusiasm for their meal. They carried their trays of “food” to tables they had unofficially claimed as their own, and sat among one another to eat and speak in low tones about secret things. The guards watched everything with an air of disinterest that was false. It was a poorly kept secret that they hoped for an infraction of the rules so they could administer punishment. Punishing brought them both satisfaction and validation.

The prisoners were in identical uniforms, only a number differentiating one man’s shirt from another. To maintain their individuality, each man adorned his skin with multiple tattoos. There was a living art gallery having lunch in the Prison.

“Are we gonna try to do it?” Smith was a young guy. A lot of trouble had found him on the outside. Some of that trouble had managed to find him behind the bars as well.

“Man, you’re always asking questions. Why don’t you shut up? Take it easy. Just ride this out.” Martin had been in a while and seemed to split his time between the infirmary and solitary confinement.

“Chill out, Martin.” The Answer was an old-timer. People inside said that he couldn’t be killed, and they said that because people had tried. “Keep your voices low and look at your food. Don’t draw attention.” He waited a moment while the rest fell silent. “I’ve been on the inside for too long. I don’t want to die in here. I say we try, but we need to get Goldilocks on board.”

The Birdman had just been locked up. He was new to the Prison, but he had a history with people on the inside. He didn’t get the newbie treatment. “I haven’t even seen that guy. I get that he’s the big name in here, but where the hell is he? Was he the guy got paroled?”

“Nah” said the Answer. “That was Marcus. That guy wanted to stay in. Prison said he wasn’t enough of a risk to keep inside for the cost. They let him go. Goldilocks has been goin’ back to court. New evidence came up – four years after the fact. His fate’s up in the air.”

“Well, we’re all listenin’ to you, man. We know you got his ear. Why don’t you talk to Goldilocks for all of us? Let’s get a plan together.”

The Answer put his spoon down and stopped eating. He crossed his arms in front of his chest. The thought of spending another day in Warden Karl’s jail made him want to scream. Several more minutes passed without words. Then he said, maybe to himself, maybe to the rest of them, “Yeah. We gotta get out of here.”

NBA Dramatique, Prelude 6

The horses kicked dust high into the air as they charged up the mountain. The men riding the horses held tightly to their reins and kicked into their flanks to spur them onward. Bandannas covered the men’s faces to protect from the dust, and only their eyes squinted out from beneath the brim of their hats. On the front of each man's shirt was a six-pointed badge identifying its' owner as a Deputy. They reached the flat outcropping that looked far out over the surrounding plains and rumbled to a stop. The horses circled restlessly for a few moments as the men brought them under control and lined up along the southern edge to look upon the land. Far to the southwest great pillars of black smoke grew towards the sky as The Machine began its grinding processes of destruction. Far to the southeast, explosions and multi-colored lights from the Sky Fortress flared across the sky and burned out as new weapons were tested and toyed with.

The Kidd looked over at the German and didn’t speak.

“It’s bad. They’re going to come at us from both sides” the German said. “They both think that we’re unfortified, and knocking us over will make them look stronger to everyone else.”

Howard pulled his horse between them. “We’ll kill ‘em. They can ride in all arrogant if they want. We’ll put ‘em down anyway.”

The German glared at Howard. “You can't act like it's going to be that simple. Look at what's out there. If you look at the sky to your left, you can see a fortress floating in the sky. They've got weapons that we don't even know about. We're on horses. We're just going to 'put 'em down'? See the smoke in the sky to your right? That Machine doesn't care about our badges or our laws, and they're not human. I don't think shooting them does much good."

"I don't care how we do it!" said Howard. "I don't care if we're on horses or if we're running on foot. I don't care if we're using pistols or throwing rocks. And I don't care if we do it with our badges on or if we have to hide our faces while we shoot 'em in the back. We need to regulate these parts. We need to be the authority 'round here."

"You don't care one bit about your badge." The German kept his voice steady, but was visibly frustrated with Howard. "I don't get it. You worked hard your whole life to earn that badge, and now you have it, you don't act like it means a thing. You've got a job to do, Howard. Part of doing that job means that people are counting on you to do what they can't do for themselves. They're looking up to you whether you know it or not, so remember that star is on your chest even when you're not in the mood." Howard looked away from the German and tried to give his friend Stack a knowing glance, but Stack was purposely looking down at the dirt. The German continued. "Sheriff Carlisle has asked us to recon these two outfits, because he thinks one of them is going to try to move against us real soon. He doesn't want us to attack or make ourselves known to them yet. He just wants us to report back with what we see so he can decide what we should do."

Howard shook his head and scoffed. “Why are you always worrying about what someone else wants you to do? You know how to use your weapons. You know how to take a man down. You know that you’re put here to do just that. Why do you think you have to listen to someone tell you how they want you to do it?”

“That’s enough from you, Howard” said the Kidd. “The German’s right. The Sheriff calls the shots. We pull the trigger. That’s the way it works. You don’t like it, ride on.”

Howard locked eyes with the Kidd. They stared each other down for a long moment. Howard flinched and tried to pass off a derisive laugh. “You’re something else, old man.” He pulled his horse along side the Kidd’s. “You haven’t been riding with us that long. Don’t think that being old makes you the boss.” The Kidd kept his gaze on Howard as the young man trotted his horse off the outcropping.

The German started to follow the path down as well. He looked at the Kidd as he passed. "He's got a point, doesn't he?"

Kidd gave the German a sly grin that only he would see and spoke in a low mumble. "Damn punk hothead. Of course he's right. He's just got to learn to be quieter about it."

NBA Dramatique, Prelude 5

There is no kingdom. There is a great fighter, with great power. They knew he was coming before he ever arrived, and all of the armies of this splintered nation waited and hoped that he would rise within their ranks. When he was found, it was in a region that had long been in need of a leader - a land that had never stood triumphant over all of the warring armies. An army fights behind him - an army that believes in him, and follows his lead, and calls him “King” even now, before his reign begins.

The One Who Would Be King dressed quietly, and alone. The others had not yet arrived. As he suited up and prepared for the coming war, he thought not at all about those who would fight beside him. Though he cared for them, and at times considered some of them friends, he knew that they were in some ways forced to live in his shadow. He knew that if he was to obtain the glory that was his destiny, it would be attributed to his own actions. History would not be awed by the work done by those around him. Sometimes this made him unhappy and ashamed, but only sometimes. He would prefer not to think about it, which is why he was not thinking about it now.

If he thought about it, he would have to think about those in his army that had fought for far more years than he had. Not one of them had ever been seen as “the chosen one”. He would have thought about the wars of the past, and how sometimes his troops would fall, and not be capable of combat. They were never happy to miss it. They felt useless and dishonored. He would have thought about the politics of this world he planned to shape, and knew that the man he called friend today could be an enemy next week, and an enemy could become a friend tomorrow. But thinking about these things would confuse the real issue, and he would not have that.

The real issue was winning. The real issue was beating everyone else. The real issue was claiming the title and the throne that everyone knew was his destiny. The real issue was to become King James not just in name but in station. In jewels on his hand.

He was within reach of the throne once, only to be soundly defeated by the onslaught of The Machine. The Machine was getting old, and breaking down, and he did not believe that The Machine would survive a final showdown with him again. There were other factions that he was more concerned about this time. The Western Banner had broken the Machine in the last war, then battled and lost against the Bastion. The Western Banner employed the world’s most dangerous assassin. If there was one individual that James felt was a threat, it was that damned assassin. Every tribe got stronger with every new war, it seemed. There were easily a half dozen armies the last time that fought hard and gave them trouble. There would be probably a half-dozen more that would come back stronger this time.

Z came around the corner and found James alone. James looked up into the face of Z. It was the face of a man that was never considered “the chosen one”, was never going to be glorified if the glory came. It was the face of a man who had fought many times, and for many years before The One Who Would Be King had shown up. It was the face of a man that James often considered to be a friend.

“We will win it all this time?” Z asked.

James looked him in the eye and said nothing for a moment.

“Yes. All of it.”

NBA Dramatique, Prelude 4

The New Guy got off the bus. He hadn’t arrived at his destination, but the bus driver was not willing to drive him all the way. “That’s a wasteland! Nobody goes in there for anything good. I’ll let you out right here, and if you decide to walk into that place, it’s your own fault!” So the New Guy walked.

When he finally got there, he could see the bus driver hadn’t been lying. The place was in shambles. Broken windows, graffiti, trash blowing in the street. A man whom he recognized as one of his comrades appeared to be passed-out drunk outside of an open door.

The New Guy walked cautiously toward that door, trying to nudge the drunken guy awake with his foot as he passed. No response. He entered, instantly surprised by the oppressive heat indoors, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light after being out in the bright sun. Ten men were in the narrow room, laying on cots, or sitting on chairs, or stretched out on the floor. Two played a video game at the far end. Four played cards. Two read magazines. Two slept, snoring. The room was full of smoke. He recognized all of them, but hadn’t met any. No one bothered to stop what they were doing when he entered, nor was his presence acknowledged in any way.

“Hey, everybody!” he said, smiling. “Call me Rose. I’m the new guy, I guess.”

One of the magazines was dropped in annoyance. “Hooray, New Guy. You’ve arrived.” The sarcasm was unmistakable.

“Uhh. Yeah.” A few seconds went by, and still no one seemed interested in saying hello or even recognizing that another living being had entered the room. “Listen, guys. I’m really happy to be here. I’m ready to put in the work, and I think we can do some amazing things. I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you better.” No one stirred. “When do we start training?”

Annoyed Magazine Reader kept the page to his face, but from behind it said “Don’t know. Still waiting for the New Boss to get here, New Guy.”

The New Guy didn’t bother putting his bags down. He walked out of the room through the door he entered, passed the unconscious drunk, and back out into the street. Down the road another block, he could see the site of the historic battlefield, and made his way toward it. He found himself alone inside, and looked upward at the flags of champions that had come before. It wasn’t that long ago, and yet so much had changed for these people. A Superhero used to make this his home. The one that they had all looked up to had been here, fought here, won here. Now no one seemed to care. No one who fought for this army seemed to recognize that their colors had been His colors, and that to lose in those colors dishonored Him. He was like a god to all of them, and they didn’t seem to care. “That’s my job. That must be what I’m here for.” He looked back up at those flags and shouted “I’m here to make them care! I’m here to help them remember!” He was young.

Great idea. Really.

This is not what Denver needs.

NBA Dramatique, Prelude 3

Feet fell without grace upon the metal catwalk, clanging loudly above. “He’s watching” said the General to no one as he turned his eyes upward toward the noise. The troops went through the drills, some more enthusiastically than others. The General had a reputation. He was known to be hard on soldiers, and even harder on young soldiers. He was known as a guy who got things done. He had a lot to do here.

The General was old, and there is no enemy as difficult to defeat as age. He knew it. He could feel the foot soldiers of time moving into position all around him. He just hoped that he could find a way to outsmart them at least once more. The stain of failure had soiled the General’s record, and it made many people across many lands who were familiar with war question the abilities of a man they had once seen as unquestionable. Oh, many still had faith in him (out loud), but the whispers behind his back were multiplying. He needed to go out with a win. He needed to retire with vindication.

“Hit the showers! You’re done for the day. Be here an hour earlier tomorrow and expect to stay two hours later!” He watched them file out, heads hung from fatigue or the knowing shame of letting him down. They dripped sweat and smelled of exertion. He sat - once they had all exited - to collect his thoughts and begin planning for the next day of training.

The footsteps that he had heard above were now echoing off of the floor and coming towards him from his left. He knew who it was but looked up just the same. As the tall bald man made his way toward him, the General was aware for a moment of their one similarity. “That man was a super hero” he said quietly to himself, “and even he couldn’t escape age.”

“How do they look, Larry?” the Superhero asked.

The General shook his head briefly. “Not that good, Mike. Not really that good.”

“Can you change it?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I can. It’s going to take a lot of work. There will be many complaints. Some guys will want to quit. They’ll want out. I might break one or two of the softer ones.”

The Superhero laughed. “OK, Larry. You do what you need to do to them. We need to win.”

The General was uncertain if the Superhero meant “we” as in all of them collectively, or if he meant “we, Larry. You and I”. Either could be true. The two old men alone now on this floor needed to win. One needed to restore his legacy and the other needed to add a dimension to his own. The General decided that it didn’t really matter what the Superhero meant. They just needed to win.

I was just thinking...

Just for the fun of it, I made some predictions about 10 days ago about the end of the upcoming season. I am sure they will be way off once June gets here, but I was thinking - why would I pick the Pistons to win it all when they're dealing with a new coach? That doesn't make sense! So, I'm going to tweak my prediction just slightly and say that the Cavs beat the Pistons in the conference finals. 'Sheed goes absolutely nuts at the final buzzer and might go to prison. Then in the Finals, Hornets beat the Cavs, causing LeBron to take a vow of silence towards the media for the next year so that he doesn't have to repeatedly discuss his plans to leave Cleveland.

That's my prediction. Ok, not really. I just wanted to say that despite my previous post, I don't think the Pistons will capture the title with a new coach.

Maybe the Spurs can do it again...

NBA Dramatique, Prelude 2

Kevin walked with a purpose. He knew where he was going and what he needed to do. He was all business. There would be nothing to distract him. His schedule allowed for extra time that would be spent as people on the street noticed him, recognized his face, and approached him in an attempt to befriend him. He appreciated the people and respected their admiration, and was happy to have done what he had done for them. But he was serious-minded and did not come out today to make friends. He knew how to get things done.

Kevin entered the grand stone building through one of the many glass doors. The air inside was a full 20 degrees cooler, and dry, and subtly smelled of being many times recycled. He was dressed not for war, but for business. It made him no less imposing. Heads turned involuntarily to watch him walk by and crowds parted without being asked. He entered a spacious lobby and was quickly met by three men also in business suits – older, shorter, facilitators. They shook hands and smiled. Kevin walked with them to an office just off the lobby and sat at a large desk. The three men spoke for a time about Kevin’s money and how much he had and how he could get more of it by letting them take charge of it. He found their presentation appealing and believable, and he decided that they could have twelve million of his dollars.

Kevin walked back through the lobby with the three men and enough people there had seen him pass through the first time that there were now three times as many people. Many of them tried to pretend that they were going about some other task when all they really were there for was to see him, but there were a few that boldly intercepted the group of suited men. Kevin was polite but economical with his time. He shook a few hands and smiled and signed two autographs but did not allow conversations to linger. He said good-bye to the three advisers and exited the building. His business here was done, and he was now headed to the training facility. War was coming again, and he would again stand and fight for the Bastion. They had secured The Prize, and he was determined to keep it.

Kevin’s investment ended up earning him over eighty million dollars. He was lucky.

Four minutes after he walked out of the stone building, three men in masks entered, drew guns, and attempted to rob the bank operating in the lobby. They were unsuccessful. All three were killed, as well as one bank customer, one bank employee, and one police officer. Kevin was lucky that he walked with a purpose.

On the other side of the city, Rajon shifted into sixth gear and blazed past other drivers on the freeway. He crossed under a bridge, behind which sat the cruiser of a state trooper. The state trooper was in pain and shock, as just seconds before he had sneezed violently, causing the hot coffee in his mug to splash out onto his crotch and burn him. He was not paying attention to the sports car that passed him by at 140 miles per hour. Rajon was lucky.

Paul had decided not to go out on Friday. His friends went without him. As he sat at home and watched a movie, there was a knock on his door. Felicia had dropped by on a whim just to say hello. Paul was happy to see her, as he had thought of Felicia often since he had last seen her (several years ago). He had always been interested in her, and she in him, but there was always a circumstance of timing that kept them apart. Tonight, they talked, relaxed, and then had sex for hours before falling into a restful sleep. Paul was lucky. His friends that night had found themselves spending a lot more money, getting into far fewer places, and drawing the interest of no women without their very popular, wealthy, and well-known friend along side them.

Good luck for one almost always means bad luck for another. The Bastion was lucky.

NBA Dramatique, Prelude 1

Money. So many times so many things boil down to money. Such is the life of a mercenary. You fight because of pay, not principles. Your allegiances are based on the value of your services in the eyes of those willing to pay for those services. That kind of life makes you unsentimental in a very short time. You see everything as transient and tenuous and your skin thickens and your heart hardens.

Josh’s friend was gone. Josh’s friend, Josh, was gone. He was a merc pilot too. The funny thing though is that Gone Josh had very drastically changed the mercenary universe by the way he became gone. Gone Josh reminded them all that the world was a big place.

So Gone Josh got big money to go fight wars in a different part of the world. He didn’t defect to another warring tribe in this nation, and it struck Josh as somewhat strange that he would see his friend neither fighting at his side nor facing him down from the ranks of the opposition. There would be no aerial dogfight in which they could match skills. He was just gone.

Josh didn’t leave. He thought he could get even bigger money than Gone Josh from one of the warlords here, and he was right. In the end the air force that he had been flying for would continue to pay him to keep flying, and they would pay very well.

So what was he facing in the battles ahead? The pilots that he knew were getting better. The new guys looked decent. Their wing commander, Woodson, was still hanging around, for better or for worse. Would they be a more powerful force this time? Was it up to him? Was he the guy that made the difference? Was it time to stop thinking like a solo flier and start joining the squadron? Was it time to make this an air force to fear? There would surely be money in that.

NBA Dramatique: An Introduction

I started my little blog here just to have a place where I could put my own two cents in regarding the activities of the NBA. I’ve liked having that place, but there have been a number of things working against me being able to turn the page into what I ultimately wanted it to be – a well-known forum for fans of my favorite sport to convene and converse. For starters, I wasn’t posting anything on a regular basis. I’ve always been a procrastinator, and the blog was certainly a victim. I’ve had big, big changes sweep through my life since I started the blog, and I wasn’t making a priority of my writing. Secondly, I didn’t see much point in busting my butt to put information out there that any web-savvy basketball fan could find on a dozen other sites. I realized that I needed to find a unique voice if I was going to bother speaking on the subject. I gave it a lot of thought over the summer, and I found the idea I was looking for.

What I’m going to attempt here is a fictionalized account of the NBA season as it happens. I don’t think this is going to interest everyone, but it interests me. I hope that my enthusiasm translates into something that at least a few people will enjoy following.

This idea came to me by looking for a way that I could express just how impressive and dramatic I find the game. I thought about the things that entertained me, not just in basketball, but all around. I've always liked stories. When I was a boy, I especially liked myths and other tales of heroic drama. I was a huge comic book fan for many years. Even as a kid playing with G.I. Joe or He-Man action figures, the story came first for me. I would think up plots or copy them from comics or shows, and then I would tell my younger brother what we needed to accomplish in that play session. Ridiculous, right? But this has carried over into many aspects of my adult life, and watching the NBA season unfold has never (for me) just been about guys playing a game. There are story-lines all over the place, and the more of them you know, the more you can enjoy what happens. I've tried to inject an other-worldly element into how I'll describe the game to you as a way of trying to express how awe-inspiring I believe the sport to be. I wanted to be able to show the super-human and fantastic elements of professional basketball without falling into the clichéd and over-used descriptions of the play-by-play commentator.

Here is a very important disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. The story will unfold in a way that is inspired by the real-world events of the NBA, but it is not necessarily meant to be seen as an editorial statement on the teams or players as portrayed. I don’t know any of the people that work for the NBA or play professional basketball. The names I use are representations of characters, inspired by real people, but not meant to be a reflection of any real person’s thoughts, attitudes, actions, or behavior. Think of it as a big epic fantasy sci-fi war story that I cast using the stars of the NBA. I love this game and I love the league, and the last thing I want is to offend anyone that is a real participant in the game. That being said, I have to make bad guys out of some of these people for dramatic effect. It’s nothing personal.

I’ll begin things by posting an introduction to one team each day leading up to the beginning of the season. My plan is to continue the story on a daily or near daily basis, all the way through the last game of the finals. I hope you enjoy this as the season progresses, and I hope I can see it through to the end. I’d love to get your feedback on what you think of the story.

Wow. That Would be Crazy.

NBA.com has a page up right now detailing what happened when they let NBA Live 09 simulate the upcoming season. It's funny and a little insane and there would be some serious craziness if things really shook out like that in the East. Check it out.

Josh Howard is Sorry

ESPN is reporting that Dallas Mavericks forward Josh Howard is apologizing for "everything that's happened in the past five months."

Thanks, Josh. That whole $700 billion dollar bail-out thing had me worried. I'm glad you took responsibility. All those Chinese babies with the tainted milk probably appreciate your apology too. And when I quit my job at the beginning of June and shook my life around like dice in a Yahtzee cup - man, I've been waiting for you to step up on that one.

But seriously, I don't think Howard has anything to apologize for. No harm came to anyone as a result of his activities over the past five months, as far as I'm aware. So in my book there's no need to say you're sorry.

In my opinion, I think we owe you an apology, Josh. I'd like to speak for many when I say we're sorry. We're sorry that you've grown into adulthood with some bad misconceptions. It's unfortunate that you have not been taught that reckless actions, like street racing, could put many people (in addition to yourself) in harm's way. Even if you think it's weak to be concerned with other people's safety, why don't you care more about your own health? Why don't you care that you have been gifted with physical ability surpassing billions of people? Not only do you participate in dangerous driving, but you do damage to your lungs and possibly your brain when you smoke weed. I'm sorry that no one ever took the time to explain that to you, or if they did, I'm sorry that they didn't make you realize that they were telling you that because they cared about you. I'm on no soapbox. I've done both of those things that you did, Josh. I was lucky enough to either realize on my own or have people help me understand that I was putting myself in danger by participating in those activities. I was lucky enough that my mistakes weren't on the news. So I think we should be sorry for making a big deal out of things that are hopefully youthful indiscretions.

The thing that people have really wanted to talk about is your comment on the Star-Spangled Banner. I'm a white guy but, in a way, I share your sentiment. I stand up at a game when the lights go down and they want to perform the Star-Spangled Banner. I can show that much respect. But I don't put my hand on my heart and I don't sing. In my opinion, and an unpopular one it's sure to be, that level of involvement crosses over from respect to jingoism. I choose silence as a commentary on my disappointment with the American government, and my belief that our nation's leaders have failed to lead for many, many years. Now, my opinion my be just as hated as the one that you expressed. The difference though is that I've explained myself a little, and could explain my position further if questioned. I'm sorry for you that your political leaders, teachers, friends, and your parents have not helped you develop an eloquence that would have allowed you to make a statement on the dissonance between race relations and American patriotism. Instead, your statement that you don't participate because you're black comes across as being simple, ill-informed, and nonsensical. Really, I suppose, that's exactly what it is, and that's why I think the apology is owed to you, not the other way around. You're young and full of opinions that you don't yet have the experience and wisdom to be quoted on in a national forum. It's everyone else's fault that you were quoted anyway. Not yours. I'm also sorry that angry and ignorant commentary was directed at you after those comments were made public that probably made you feel somewhat justified in making them. As a nation, and as human beings, we should all be above that.

Apologize only to yourself for making choices that diminish your self-worth. Seek out the wisdom of books and people who have lived through harder things than you have. No one can tell you that your opinions are wrong, but you should come to the argument with the proper tools to defend those opinions.

So long, White Chocolate

The word out of L.A. this evening is that Jason Williams is hanging up his sneakers after a ten-year career in the NBA. I only knew Jason's game from the 05-06 Heat, but from what I've read, he was a real show-off. I mean that in a good way. Williams was probably not the ideal point guard and was probably a coach's nightmare, but I'll always have some appreciation for him because of that title run he made with Miami.

So, Jason, if you're really going away for good, I wish you the best. You helped make my little brother (a Heat fan) love the game of basketball, and I appreciate you doing that. Maybe you looked at the situation you were going into with the Clippers and realized that your best days in the NBA were behind you. Just remember, no matter what anyone might say about your career now that it's over, you were a champion. Good luck.

Who I Want to Win

Some people only watch one particular team. If that team isn't playing, the rest of the basketball world makes no difference to them. I consider that to be an emotional attachment without context. I'm interested in the records of at least half the league, either hoping they win or hoping they don't. Mostly, though, the team that I'm pulling for is directly related to who they are playing. I'd like to put my preferences in a list form, as best as I can. If you're at the top of the list, I want you to win. If you're at the bottom, I hope you lose. So if team 8 plays team 12, I'm hoping team 8 wins. If team 12 plays team 17, I'm hoping team 12 wins.

Here's what I'm feeling right now, before the first game happens. This is subject to change during the course of the season.

1. Spurs
2. Trailblazers
3. Heat
4. Wizards
5. Cavaliers
6. Celtics
7. Knicks
8. Suns
9. 76ers
10. Rockets
11. Thunder
12. Grizzlies
13. Bucks
14. Timberwolves
15. Raptors
16. Magic
17. Hawks
18. Bobcats
19. Hornets
20. Bulls
21. Nets
22. Warriors
23. Clippers
24. Pacers
25. Lakers
26. Nuggets
27. Kings
28. Pistons
29. Mavericks
30. Jazz

These are not predictions! Not power rankings! I know the Jazz could stomp most of the teams listed above them, so could the Mavs and Pistons and Lakers. This is just how the season would shake out if I had my choice. I'm a little iffy on that 1-2 combo. I really like the way the Blazers are going to come out this year.

If it all turned out the way I wanted, either the Spurs or the Blazers would face the Suns in the Western Conference Finals, with the Suns losing in 7. The east would have Miami and D.C. face off for 6 games (it's almost funny to type that). The winner of the west would win the finals in 4 games.

However, if I were going to make predictions now, before the first game even tips off, this is my guess:

The Eastern Conference will find the Pistons facing the Cavaliers. Although the Cavs will make a dominant push through the play-offs, the Pistons will recognize that their championship window is closing and dig down deep to overcome Cleveland in six games.

In the West, youth causes serious upsets. Despite the notion that they're too inexperienced to go deep into the postseason, the Trailblazers (passing the Spurs in a surprising 4 games) enter the Conference Finals against the also young Hornets (dispatching the Lakers in six games). Hornets win in five and proceed to the Finals, where Detroit closes a five-year gap in championship celebrations.

In June, we can probably all look back at this and have a good laugh.

Offseason Activity

I'm breaking my silence a little to drop a few lines on offseason drama. There won't be too much of this kind of thing on my blog once my special project ramps up in October, but one of my friends is looking for something to read, so he's nudged me into posting this. As always, I'd love to have you make your own comments in response to what I have to say.

First, here's some things that haven't happened...yet.

Miami trades...

As of this writing, Miami hasn't done a thing to bring in any real help. They got Beasley in the draft (unproven, immature?), brought in Magloire (washed up, inflated ego?), and resigned Quinn (pretty much a bench guy), but everyone has expected them to make a deal that has yet to materialize. With Beasley, Marion, Haslem, and Dorell Wright all apparently having some value as trade pieces, Miami has done surprisingly little to improve at point guard and center. My guess is that Riley wants to see this team perform, and see if his guys will step up where needed. I think also he's eager to see what kind of rapport the players develop with Spoelstra in his new role as head coach. Once we're a few months in, Riley can re-examine the Heat's assets and liabilities, gauge the likelihood of a contribution from Alonzo Mourning, and capitalize on other teams' dissapointing starts.

Ben Gordon plays for...

Ben Gordon is in a terrible spot. It's called "Chicago." Ben wants money that the Bulls don't want to spend, and they seem perfectly willing to say "Alright, Ben. I guess we'll catch you later" because they know he's not worth as much as he wants, they know no other team can pay him what he wants, and they totally caught his agent bluffing on the whole playing-in-Russia thing. That team is in bad shape. They absolutely fell apart last year, they have poor team chemistry, and they're going to be working with a brand-new coach. There's also a young new guard in town who comes with the pressure of being the number one draft pick. It's going to be absolutely crucial, I think, for the coach to connect with the young guys in a way that Skiles couldn't. He has to inject a stronger sense of team into the Bulls or they're going to continue sucking. Gordon needs to decide if he wants to be a part of their rejuvenation, and if so he needs to accept less money and dedicate himself to being a positive component. If he can't make that choice, I think the Bulls would be happy to decide to leave him waiting at the curb.

Remember that lousy GM?

Now that the Isaiah era is over in New York, Walsh and D'Antoni are going to be trying like hell to fix his mistakes. Marbury is problem number one, Z-Bo is problem number two. Here's the thing with Randolph: the only reason he made it to New York was because Isaiah didn't have the sense to say no. Portland had a young team with a lot of promise, Randolph was locker room cancer, and they decided to get that guy the hell away fom the young, good players that they had assembled. Everyone knew Randolph was trouble, but Isaiah didn't care. I don't think Portland could have unloaded his issues on anyone else. True, they had to take Steve Francis, but they just bought out his trouble-making ass for a lot less than they would have paid to waive Randolph and the Blazers got Channing Frye out of it! I think that Donnie Walsh sees himself in a situation similar to Portland's when they dumped Zach. I think that he would prefer to get rid of Marbury and Randolph both and never think of them again. I'm sure, though, that he doesn't want to spend money to get rid of them knowing that another GM will pick them up at a bargain rate and he'll have nothing to show for it. The Knicks are going to have to find a way to convince some team that the risk is worth it, and that means playing these guys. Regardless of how they produce, though, the Knicks aren't going to keep either player any longer than they have to.

I'll throw some more opinions out in a few days. Talk to you soon.

Things to come...

I just wanted to make a quick post here for a short announcement. I've been purposely quiet on this page since the end of last season. I wanted to take some time to think about my approach to this blog and how I could make a unique niche for myself in the over-populated world of basketball/NBA/sports blogs. The web is full of them, really. I've come up with something that I think is pretty interesting, and I've had a lot of fun thinking up my particular approach. I'll go into more detail at a later date, but I hope it's something that a lot of people can enjoy. If it's not to your taste, there's plenty of other websites out there for you to visit. I'll be silent here for the rest of the month, but you (and I!) should expect posts every day beginning in October. I hope to see you then.

This one’s in the books!

The Boston Celtics brought an end to the 2007-2008 NBA season last night by achieving their 17^th championship, and crushing the L.A. Lakers in the process. I have to say that I wanted this to happen all year. I said to several people throughout the season that the only way I wouldn’t be pulling for the Celtics to win it all was if they had to face the Spurs at the end. Even if they had faced the Spurs, I would have been happy with either team winning the title. Really, it wasn’t Boston and it wasn’t the Celtics that I was rooting for. I wanted to see Kevin Garnett become a champion. I wanted to see Ray Allen become a champion. I wanted to see Paul Pierce become a champion. Those guys, especially Garnett, always seemed to have a quiet struggle within themselves between knowing that they could do it and sensing that they would never get the chance. I’m very happy that they got the chance and made the most of it.

I hadn’t started the blog yet when all of the trades went down, so I have no proof for what I’m going to write next. When Boston traded for Ray Allen, I didn’t really get it. I know I wasn’t the only person to think it was a bad move. As much of a scorer Allen has been in his career, I felt that he was an old guy with lingering injuries that wasn’t going to put the Celtics in any different situation than they were already in. When they got KG, I was impressed. I was excited for Garnett, Pierce, Allen, and the Celtics franchise. I thought they had a really good shot at the title. When they signed James Posey, I was almost certain that they would win it. That might sound crazy, and I’ve heard things about Posey that indicate he’s not always well thought of, but I see him differently. I became familiar with Posey when he played for the Miami Heat two years ago when they took the title. I’ve written in earlier posts about seeing that Heat team scrape their way to the top of the heap, and James Posey’s three-point shooting was a big part of Miami’s story that year. I knew when the Celtics got Posey, they were a major threat. Pat Riley knew it too and was quoted saying so. Jeff Van Gundy said the same thing last night, and I pointed at the screen and shouted “that’s right!” My girlfriend looked at me like I was a crazy person.

So congratulations to the Celtics, to the city of Boston, to Garnett, Pierce, Allen, Posey, House, Rondo, Davis, Powe, Brown, and the rest of the team. Congratulations to the fans of the Celtics and to everyone who enjoyed the story of the season as it played out.

This blog was something that I have wanted to get going for a while now, and I have high hopes for it next season. My posting was really sporadic, and I’m not ever going to get anyone other than family and friends to read it if I don’t make it more active. Next year is going to be a break-out year for me and for NBA on the Brain. Thanks for reading, and keep your eye on this space. As news comes out over the summer, I’ll get some more posts up. I can’t write much about the draft because I am willfully ignorant of college basketball. I don’t know a thing about any of the guys in the draft pool except a few of their names. But trades will happen, coaching moves may still occur, and there will be things to talk about. That being said, it’s way too early to begin talking about next season, but I do have some gut feelings that I’m going to put out there now. We’ll see how the moves of the summer affect my opinions by opening night of 08-09.

Prediction 1: Celtics don’t repeat. These guys knew this year that this was their best chance to win a title. It was now or never. That drove them to the title, but next year won’t have the same sense of urgency, and those old guys are going to be one more year closer to retirement.

Prediction 2: Portland is going to tear it up. I’ve been telling people that Portland is going to be crushing dreams next year. I think with Oden, Roy, Aldridge, Webster, Fernandez, and to a degree, Frye and Przybilla, they’ve got a pretty insane team. I think they could probably use another seasoned vet on the roster for guidance, but I can’t wait to watch them play.

Prediction 3: San Antonio will scare me. I think they need to do some serious work this summer. I didn’t like the look of the team at all this year. Too much reliance on older players that just didn’t have the juice anymore. The Spurs are going to either struggle in the early part of the season with bringing new components into the fold, and then breaking into a streak of mind-numbing dominance after the all-star break, OR they’re going to look sloppy and old all year and possibly even miss the play-offs. The Western Conference is not getting any worse and the other teams are looking at the Spurs like the sick animal in the pack.

Prediction 4: These teams will be better next season: Atlanta, Chicago, Miami, New York, Portland. These teams will be worse: Boston, Denver, Detroit, Phoenix, San Antonio.

I’m already looking forward to it. Talk to you soon.

Worst blogger ever.

Yeah. That's me. I blogged this year like the Heat played basketball. Practically not at all. I'm not going to make a bunch of excuses, I'm just going to say that I didn't live up to my own expectations. The guys over at Hardwood Paroxysm posted blogger awards last week, and it will be my goal to be on their list this time next year. Wish me luck.

The first round is well underway, so my two cents about things so far:

Pistons/Sixers - No one expected this to be a contest, except maybe the Sixers. Detroit is one of three teams that I love to see lose, so I'm happy this series isn't going completely their way. Go Sixers.

Magic/Raptors - Don't care. I really don't. Both teams can play an impressive game, both teams have impressive players. Neither team has a snowball's chance in hell of going all the way. Orlando will Probably take this round.

Celtics/Hawks - The Celtics are going to tear through these playoffs. There is no doubt in my mind. And the only way I'll be rooting against them in the Finals is if they're facing San Antonio. Still, there's no excuse for dropping a game to Atlanta, even if it's in Atlanta. Go Celts.

Cavs/Wizards - This one is really getting to me. As a team, the Wizards are superior to the Cavaliers. As a player, LeBron James is superior to the Wizards. I think that Washington should be tearing Cleveland apart, but it's not happening because LeBron isn't letting it happen. The Wizards are also being hurt, I think, by Gilbert Arenas (knee) and DeShawn Stevenson(mouth). I would like to see the Wizards win this one, but I really just want the series to end now so I don't have to listen to any more middle-aged men talk about Soulja Boy and Jay-Z.

Lakers/Nuggets - I think the Nuggets are pure garbage. Not all of them as individuals - Iverson is amazing and I think Anthony could be insanely great in a different environment. I don't like the Nuggets because I think their team culture ruins potential. They have a collection of negative personalities and a coach that either can't or won't keep those personalities in check, so until a major change is made in the Nuggets organization that team will flounder. And in doing so they will have squandered years of talent from some incredible players. Go Lakers.

Jazz/Rockets - I wanted to see Houston win this series until T-Mac went on his "woe is me" sarcastic diatribe a few days ago. Screw that guy. He's a loser. Go Jazz.

Hornets/Mavericks - Dallas is another team that I enjoy seeing lose under any and all circumstances. I can respect Dirk, and I had respect for Devin Harris when he was on the team, but I don't like the attitude of the rest of the team. They're smug pricks, and I like to see them crumble in the playoffs. I seriously don't think I've enjoyed any playoff series more than I enjoyed last year's disassembly by the Golden State Warriors. It was exquisite. Go Hornets.

Spurs/Suns - hahahahahahahahahahahaha!! I'm loving it. Ok, admittedly, San Antonio played like turd today. And those first two games were serious tests of faith to sit through and hope for the win. But they did it. Never give up on the Spurs. Never. I have a soft spot for the Suns. They're a good team and I learned a lot about the game through that team. But the Spurs own their asses in the post-season. They just do, and you can see it all in the actions of Amare Stoudemire. His frustration every time he gets whistled for a foul is almost a physical object tumbling out of his mouth. He knows deep inside that if they just get past the Spurs, they probably win it all, and yet the Spurs manage to put him down every single time, and it is breaking his heart. It's breaking his spirit. This series isn't over yet, but I could see in Amare's pre-game body language that he knows the Spurs are still just a little bit better than his team. Go Spurs go!