Mix-and-Match Blog

I'm in the midst of finals, so I'm like an ADHD kid on chocolate right now. But after what could be considered the best game of the season last night, I gotta blog. I just gotta.

Here's what's been on my mind:

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Baron Davis- What could have been:

Hall of Famer? No. All Star? Not this year. Heck, he only made an all-NBA team once, the third team in 2004. When it comes to the premier guards in the NBA, he's always been passed up in favor of AI, Tony Parker, even Mike Bibby. He's never gotten the respect his numbers dictate. Why? He's been relegated to the small-market team his entire career. He's been injury-prone. He's a shoot-first guard on unsuccessful teams.

Yet everyone knew his name.

Hitting Sportscenter's Top 10 every so often with not just the good play, but the ridiculous, And-1 mix-tape play that shouldn't happen. Seeing the numbers, the steal crowns, the point/assist combos, he's like a Steve Nash with hang time. (Never seen Nash dunk, by the way, and definitely not throw down over Kirilenko.)

Maybe it's because he didn't immediately live up to the hype he obtained coming out of UCLA. (Witness: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rdvEMNCQGlk ) Maybe its because his teams were always the underdog, perennially one player or one injury shy of making the playoff jump. Remember, he stayed loyal to Charlotte/NO for his entire career till Golden State, as if he was being punished for something.

But the dude has been under appreciated, and I'm glad he's getting his glory. NellieBall was the best thing that could have happened to him.

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So the house was rockin in Golden State. We saw the energy, we know this. But I realize now that it doesn't only effect the players on the court.

Anyone see the mop-boys? They were flyin all over the place! Whenever a player went down (which was often) these 16-year-old kids would pounce up from behind the basket support, hurdle the photographers, and skid a good 5 feet to the wet spot on the court, often getting there just as the player was being helped up. Once, Dick Bavetta had to stop the game because one of them was scrubbing a spot next to the half-court line. I swear, it was nearly as entertaining as the game.

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My prediction for the series? Jazz in six.

It's not a prediction I like. I want the Red Bull Warriors to advance, with all my heart. Their style of basketball is a breath of fresh air to the stolid and stagnant NBA. Nellie has taken some of the best scorers, and dared teams to keep up. Its amazing. I mean, get this: Utah scored 105 points last night, and got destroyed. In notoriously defense-laden playoff battles, 105 is an orgasm of points. Imagine if the 2005 Spurs-Pistons series had a 105-pt game. I don't think they reached that combined.

But I have endless respect for the General, Jerry Sloan. And he demands the respect of his players. You can see the team concept in their game. Not only are they intelligent, cognisant players, taking the right shots and make the right decisions, but you can see the confidence on them. Any other team would have been completely leveled when all three of its point guards became unavailable. They toss the ball to Kirilenko and keep moving, eventually winning the game in one of the most stunning playoff comebacks since Reggie Miller.

Sloan is playoff-tested. If not for MJ, he'd already have his rings. And this Jazz team is a young, hungry bunch. (Yes, I'm channeling Kenny Smith.) I expect a lot out of them in the coming years, if they keep their pieces together. Their brand of basketball is made for winning.

Besides, how long do those Warrior threes keep falling? If this were a casino, I'd cash out.

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Lastly, I want to mention the Pistons. I hate them.

I hate them because my good friend is a Pistons fan, and watching a game with him could be one of the most aggrivating experiences I've ever, well, experienced. He demands that they are the best team in basketball. He knows the stats, knows the contracts, and dares me and my buddies to answer questions that he won't let us answer. Example:

Him: "Other than Shaq, name a better free agency pick-up than Chauncey Billups. And you can't name Nash because he hasn't done it in the playoffs yet."

Us: awkward silence, pretending to ignore question and watch game

Him: "You can't, can you. See, the Pistons are a great organization."

Never mind the point that free agency really began a decade ago. Never mind the fact that, like Pimp My Ride, Detroit keeps getting beat-up has-beens and assembling them together with some new polish, and with the brains of Joe Xzibit Dumars, they bump their way through a diminished East to the Conference Finals every year. Never mind that they are a scrap heap, one injury away from tumbling like a house of cards.

And dammit if I don't know he's right.

The Pistons rule the East. No one can play on their level. They have a perfect carpet-remnant prom dress working here. (Credit Futurama.) And they are the cockiest mofos on the planet. Honestly, after they sweep the Bulls and the Cavs/Nets, they're going to take a beaten-up Western Conference team at least six games.

I hate them, and I know it's completely because of my friend. I know this makes me seem like I have about as much intelligence as a poop stain. But the Pistons play at a good, hard-nosed, ugly tempo (a must in the playoffs), are about as entertaining as a prostate exam (which is NOT, folks) and have played so much basketball in so many different places that I think my eyes would get an STD if I watched them too long.

Chris Webber, whom as a Laker fan I have eternal hatred for, was the perfect addition. McDyess. Sheed. Lindsay Hunter (I went to grade school with a girl named Lindsay Hunter. True story.) Tesh-alien Prince. These are flawed characters. Its like the old men at the YMCA who know all the tricks and cheap fouls, who routinely kick the ass of the more-athletic high schoolers. This team is held together with spit and duct tape, and they're destroying everybody. I just don't get it.

They're the perfect playoff team. How did this happen?

My buddy keeps bragging. And I can't for the life of me make him stop.

Wish me luck on these finals. Next week I'll be a working man. Hear that, SLAM? Get me now while the gettin's good. No, seriously.