"That's It."

Peep the relaxed pose. I thought we had Game 5 in the bag.

Shock would be the appropriate word. The manifestation of "shock," especially amongst a large crowd will often turn raucous, and even violent. No such uprising occurred within the one hundred or so people filing through the Madison St. exit via the Third-Level United Center seats. Replace the Bulls jerseys with sports coats and fedoras, and you have an atmosphere reminiscent of the opening scene of Modern Times. Only one major difference: the figurative sheep in the movie are heading somewhere (to their grueling, soul-sucking factory jobs), and Bulls fans are leaving. Essentially walking away from the 2010-11 season.

In stark contrast to the ending of any sporting event, the mass is mostly silent, save for a few murmurs. Even if they wanted to discuss the game, it's unclear if they even knew what just hit them. Probably not. A teenager at the bottom of the stairs digs into his black backpack. He pulls out a Dirk Nowitzki jersey and throws it on. One guy begins to chant, "Nowitzki, Nowitzki..." He doesn't know the "W" is pronounced as a "V."

The symbolism is clear: Dirk Nowitzki will save us from validating the Miami Heat's season. They were good enough to beat the Bulls, but if they choke in the Finals? That would be almost better. One year down, five more to go. But Dirk Nowitzki isn't adding to the Bulls trophy case and the mass knows that. The Mavericks can win the title and it might make some of them feel good momentarily, but it won't change the fact the Bulls will end the season with practically every trophy except the one that matters.

The Nowitzki chants slowly fade as the man realizes no one is chanting along with him. But perhaps most amazing, is the teenager wearing the Nowitzki jersey expects no acknowledgement. He didn't try to play to the crowd or search for approval. He simply put the jersey on and continued to walk. His own one-man protest. But did he think the Bulls even had a chance at Game 5? Was the Nowitzki jersey just a precaution or the acceptance of an inevitable defeat?

After about ten minutes of silent waiting, my girlfriend and I squeeze into the #20 bus. We grab the two available seats closest to the driver. A massive woman with sad eyes and a shower cap atop her head sits across from us. She takes up two seats.

"Who won?" she kindly asks me. I can't tell if she's a sports fan, but I detect a tone of indifference in her voice.

"Not us," I mumble. I have the tendency to do that.

"What?"

"The Heat," I say.

"Oh," she responds softly.

In a strange way, her presence is very comforting. If anything, she reminds me that this isn't the end of the world. There are people, in the city of Chicago, on the bus outside of the United Center at that, who could care less about the outcome of this game. We don't say another word to each other for the rest of the ride.

"It's alright, we just need a little help," a man who steps onto the bus a few stops later says. "We just need to get rid of Boozer and we got three picks this year. We just need to get that boy [Rose] a little help." If it was only that easy.

As I step off the escalator up to the second floor of Ogilvie Train Station a man in a suit approaches me from my right. He takes one bud out of his ear and asks if the Bulls won. I tell him they didn't. "What?" he screams, as shocked as he is angry. A man to my left confirms, "The Bulls lost?" I nod my head. They both go on their way.

I'm the bearer of bad news. The guy in the Rose jersey intent on bringing everyone's mood down. Kill the messenger. Tomorrow is Friday for God's sake.

My girlfriend is in line at Dunkin' Donuts. I lean against a trash can. The confident, "I'm with the GOAT" swag from the picture above has disappeared. I feel like an extension of the trash can. A woman sitting near me is bundled in blankets from head to toe. She must have at least three blankets wrapped around every inch of her body. She has three blankets, a small coffee, and a beige handbag. It takes her a moment, but she is able to adjust the top half of her first blanket enough to peek her head out.

"Did we win?"

"No," I smile.

"So that's it?"

"That's it."

It took uttering those two (three?) little words to finally accept what had happened an hour ago. This was it. I remembered back to last summer when this current roster was being constructed. I remembered scouring the Internet, hoping for the latest news, or amusing myself with some of the rumors. I remembered, as the season drew on, feeling the Bulls would win every game they played. I hadn't felt like that since 1998. I remembered thinking, sometime in February, that the Bulls were good enough to win it all.

I realize now that I've never felt so strongly about a team as I do this one. The 1990s Bulls were an inheritance. I wasn't alive during the down years and too young to remember the battles with the Pistons. I was lucky enough to be born in 1987 in the state of Illinois. My childhood coincided with the second half of Michael Jordan's career and some of the greatest teams in NBA history. My childhood was the Bulls and I did nothing to deserve it. I was simply born in the right place at the right time.

The 2011 team felt more like a well-deserved promotion. I continued to support the Bulls through the 2000s and this year's team felt like repayment for the ups and downs (mostly downs) endured over the last decade. If any fanbase could claim to have paid dues, it's Bulls fans born into the glory of the 1990s who continued to stick around through the 2000s. On the Jumbotron before the game they showed a mix of highlights from the Championship teams and juxtaposed them with the 2010-11 highlights. Knowing already this wouldn't be they year, I nearly cried. A successful Bulls team, to me at least, is more than just having fun and watching good basketball. A successful Bulls team is a large chunk of my childhood and it's that feeling that I always hope can be recreated.        

On the train ride home I pondered the different ways to write about this game. I thought about what I believed to be the slanted calls in the third quarter, the deja vu moment when Rose missed his second free throw to tie the game (I was at the December 18th game against the Clippers when Rose missed the game-tying free throw with less than a second left), fuckin' Boozer, our lack of 4th quarter offense, the unbelievable way LeBron took over the 4th, etc. It wouldn't occur to me until the next day that the only way I could appropriately write about this game was to relay the moments after and the interest this team garnered, even amongst people who probably didn't watch a game all year.

I attempted to give the Bulls a standing ovation moments after the game ended. I stood and clapped alone. Maybe it looked too much like I was applauding the Heat, or maybe others weren't willing to follow the lead of a man screaming obscenities all game. Either way, I felt the Bulls' season-long effort deserved to be recognized. This was never supposed to happen. But somewhere along the line, all of us became so convinced this was the year.

My girlfriend and I stepped off the train and made our way to the 7-Eleven across the street. Dark and nearly one in the morning; the traffic lights were turned off. All we saw were a bunch of flashing red lights. Kind of fitting. My brother had parked the car in the 7-Eleven parking lot. He sat against the hood smoking a cigarette.

"How did ya like that third quarter?" I asked.    

Remembering 1.7 Percent

Let me preface this post by stating, with the exception of the statistics, I don't believe a word of it. If that makes me less of a Bulls fan to the blind faithful, then I'm OK with that. Unable to sleep last night, I began thinking of ways to curb the sting of being down 3-1. This was the best I could come up with. They are a bunch of numbers that have no bearing on the outcome of a basketball game, but I'm hoping they can put things in perspective for some fellow Bulls fans. They didnt' help me sleep at night, but they may make someone feel better about the situation.

1.7

Let's start with the most glib number of all: 4 percent. Teams down 3-1 in the Playoffs have a 4 percent chance of winning the series. Of the 200 teams that have been down 3-1 in a series, 192 of them went on to lose that series. But there have been eight to pull of the impressive feat, and here they are (the home teams are bolded):

2006 - Suns over Lakers (Western Conference First Round)

2003 - Pistons over Magic (Eastern Conference First Round)

1997 - Heat over Knicks (Eastern Conference Semifinals)

1995 - Rockets over Suns (Western Conference Semifinals)

1981 - Celtics over 76ers (Eastern Conference Finals)

1979 - Bullets over Spurs (Western Conference Finals)

1970 - Lakers over Suns (Western Division Semifinals)

1968 - Celtics over 76ers (Eastern Conference Finals)  

1.7

While the odds aren't good, 6 of the 8 teams to come back from 3-1 were the home team, just as Chicago is. Obviously, 2 home games of a possible 3 remaining would seem to be an advantage. But notice that only 3 of the 8 comebacks were from either the Western or Eastern Conference/Divison Finals. One would suspect coming back in the later rounds would be more difficult, considering the competition would likely be tougher. This actually isn't the case. 

1.7

Let's start with the glib again. For nine straight years, the NBA has seen a Conference Finals series start 3-1. In each year, the team down 3-1 has lost. Five of those teams have forced a Game 6, and four have lost in five games. None were able to force a Game 7. Since the NBA began playing Conference/Division Finals as a "Best of 7" format in 1958, 47 series have started 3-1. Of those 47, 25 ended in 5 games, 14 went to a Game 6, and 8 went to a Game 7.

1.7

Three of the 47 teams (1981 Celtics, 1979 Bullets, and 1968 Celtics) were able to defeat their opponent after falling behind 3-1 in the Conference/Division Finals: good for 6.4 percent of the time. Two of those three were the higher-seeded team, even though 5 of the 8 who forced a Game 7, were the lower-seeded team.

1.7

To recap, teams down 3-1 in the Playoffs win their series 4 percent of the time. Teams down 3-1 in the Conference Finals win 6.4 percent of the time. Higher-seeded teams are less likely to force a Game 7 in the Conference Finals, but more likely to win a Game 7 if they can force it.

1.7

Bringing us to 1.7. You most likely knew the significance of the number, but if you didn't, here's why I've typed it at every paragraph break. In 2008, coming off a disappointing 33-49 season, the Bulls finished with the 9th worst record in the NBA, and were given a 1.7 percent chance of landing the 1st overall pick. The Bulls, of course, won the pick and drafted Derrick Rose. The improbable occurred and the future of our franchise was forever transformed. Had the odds held up and the Bulls received the 9th pick, they probably would have chosen between D.J. Augustin, Jerryd Bayless, or Brandon Rush. Try to imagine how successful the Bulls would have been the last three years substituting Rose for either of those three.

The moral of the story is the odds don't always hold up. Bulls fans should know better than any NBA fanbase about pulling off something deemed impossible. If a dream with a 1.7 percent chance can come true, 4 or 6.4 percent doesn't seem all too bad, does it? The games need to be played, just as the lottery balls needed to be chosen. Sure, there are hundreds of thousands more factors that go into how a game can be decided, versus basically the luck of the draw in the lottery. But if 1.7 has taught us anything, it's that "ANYTHING IS POSSIBBBBBBBBLE." Am I really going to end the post like this? Yes. Yes, I am.          

Choose Your Words Wisely

Chris Bosh followed up an atrocious Game 2 with the best game of his career. He scored 34 in a variety of ways: midrange, off the dribble, pick and rolls, on Chicago's reeling defense. The benefit, to me anyway, of Bosh going off, is that reporters can ask Wade and LeBron about him. Naturally, they wanted to know what changed. Did he prepare any differently for Game 3? To which Dwyane Wade offered a glimpse into Miami's pregame locker room routine. Wade revealed that while most of his teammates play music before games, Bosh keeps to himself and reads a book.

This newfound information excited me. Attempting to read a book while a group of grandiose, self-important individuals make noise sounded a lot like my freshman year of college. Maybe Chris Bosh and myself aren't so different after all!

My thoughts shifted focus. What books could Bosh possibly be reading before a big game? The sociologist in me was hoping for something totally unexpected. Hopefully a piece of literature so far removed from my comfortable opinions about Bosh that would force me to reconsider everything I ever thought about him. Maybe Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas? Roots? Lolita? The Odyssey (pictured above)?! There had to be more to Bosh than the soft, insecure, player with the strange mannerisms and a habit of getting all LL Cool J and licking his lips in a perfect circle.

In early May, Shandel Richardson of the Sun-Sentinel wrote about the differences amongst the Big Three. Bosh's love of reading and art, as well as his quiet nature were what Richardson felt set him apart from Wade and James. From the article:

...James and Wade are on their iPods listening to hip-hop lyrics in the locker room during pre-game. A few feet away, Bosh is plugging his headphones into his iPad, usually reading a novel or a book that teaches mental toughness.

The bolded was the answer I was looking for, but not exactly hoping for. So Bosh was reading a book or novel about mental toughness? That basically falls in line with Bosh's narrative up to this point. The article also mentions Bosh is a huge Harry Potter fan, by the way. I realize that saying a book is about "mental toughness" is ridiculously vague. Roots can largely be read as a novel about mental toughness, for instance. But doesn't this mental toughness business scream of self-help? Is Chris Bosh reading self-help books before games? More power to him if he is.

I was hoping for something that would put me on my ass. Like when I saw Andrew Bynum was reading Drown by Junot Diaz. No such luck this time around. It's still pretty cool that Bosh reads before games, though. As a coach, I probably wouldn't want my star power forward reading Lolita anyway.

* * *

Mr. Joakim Noah has found himself in some hot water after directing a homophobic slur to an unruly fan while on the bench. Hint: Noah said, "Fuck you, faggot." "Fuck you" is fine nowadays. But "faggot?" Not so much. Here's the video:

Noah was fined 50 thousand dollars for his words and expressed regret in his conversation with openly gay sportswriter Kevin Arnovitz. I was watching the incident with my brother, girlfriend, and a friend. We were originally split down the middle about whether Noah was directing his rage towards himself or someone else. It seemed unlikely, at least to myself and my friend, that Noah would snap at a fan. I'm pretty sure he's heckled ferociously everywhere he goes.

Noah was most likely frustrated that he had just picked up his second foul in the first quarter. The fan apparently said something about his mother. I'm sure he's heard insults about his mother before, but combined with an ineffective start to an important game, the moment got the best of him. Obviously, Noah was wrong. He was wrong for using the word he did. He was wrong for paying a heckling fan the time of day to begin with. Unfortunately, the fan in question will face no repercussions. A small percentage of paying fans at every game feel the price of admission affords them the privilege of saying whatever they want to players and coaches. Other than Sam Amico's "One Free Punch rule," there isn't much the NBA can do. It's up to players to control their emotions, Noah couldn't, and was caught on camera.

What worries me is that this incident received as much attention as it did solely because a homophobic slur was involved. What if Noah had called the guy a dick? The NBA probably does nothing. While I commend the NBA for running ads and addressing offensive incidents such as this one, Noah's slur was only part of the problem. Heated fan-player interactions will outlast whichever form of ignorance our country is preoccupied with fighting.

Dueling Banjos

The weekend is here, both Conference Finals have come to a 1-1 stalwart, and magnificently, feature what may be five of the NBA's six best players (Dwight Howard has been fishing a while now, someone rock the boat and wake him up). Kevin Durant dominated summer headlines, as Team USA ran their offense through him while slowly crunching international competition beneath their feet. LeBron, Wade, and "The Decision" took over from there. Derrick Rose received MVP honors and NBA writers penned one thousand different articles on the meaning of humility and how Rose is saving the NBA -- and the world. Lost in the fracas, as he usually seems to be, was Dirk Nowitzki.

Nowitzki is everything I've loved about this year's Playoffs. Heading into this season he was an immensely talented player, but a perpetual loser / choke artist. After Game 1 he became the best international player ever and possibly one of the ten greatest players of all-time. Step back, cock the basketball behind your head, fadeaway off of one leg, and throw perspective out the window.

I began searching for reasons why Nowitzki has been so underrated -- in terms of his legacy and the unique blend of size and skill he's brought to the game, moreso than being recognized as an All-Star and elite player. The first explanation would seem to be bad timing. Nowitzki's prime has coincided with the primes of Hall-of-Famers Kobe Bryant, Tim Duncan, Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce, Allen Iverson, Shaquille O'Neal, Vince Carter, Steve Nash, and Jason Kidd. All were arguably better or more exciting players for the majority of their careers. Add in players like Stephon Marbury, Steve Francis, and Tracy McGrady who ultimately didn't have HOF careers, but for a short time took the league by storm. Then the post-2003 draft picks: LeBron James, Carmelo Anthony, Dwyane Wade, and Dwight Howard, who brought new excitement and marketability to a league who's star players were either getting old or failing to live up to the lofty standards that were set for them. If someone were to ask you in 25 years who the best 10 or 15 players of the last decade were, would it really be inconceivable to forget about Dirk?

For better or worse, athletes are measured by the number of Championships they've won. I'm sure you've seen the trailer for Bad Teacher by now. Unfortunately for Dirk, his two best Dallas Mavericks teams are best known for their epic Playoff collapses. The 2006 team was up 2-0 in the NBA Finals, firmly in control of Game 3 before surrendering a double digit lead in Miami, and went on to lose four straight. Then the 2007 team, Dallas' best team in franchise history, were ousted in the first round by 8th-seeded Golden State. Dirk played well in Games 2-5, but awful in Game 1 and series-clinching Game 6; the two most likely to be remembered. Those two seasons have come to define Dirk and the Dallas Mavericks. Despite the accolades and for all the substance they've played with the past decade, they're not good enough to win a Championship.

Then there's "Dirk's Quirks." He looked like a member of Ace of Base when he came into the league. This undoubtedly contributed to the "soft" discourse.

He's constantly adjusting his jersey even though it seems to fit him fine. He also has a tendency to try and tuck his hair around his ear, even though his hair seems to trend that way regardless. Dirk's quirks: they can be quite distracting. Next time the Mavs are on, observe how Dirk reacts when Dallas is struggling. He may get them back in it, but during a crucial stretch he's going to do the stupid jersey or hair adjustment and I promise you'll think a little less of him.

But back to why Dirk is finally getting his due as one of the toughest covers in NBA history. He scored in a variety of ways in his 48-point Game 1 performance. Nine of his fifteen shots came on the right side of the floor, and eight of those nine were 12 to 18 feet away from the basket. There was no secret to what Nowitzki was doing. He posted up every time down the floor, received the ball, and either drew a foul or shot is patented fadeaway. Oklahoma City's defenders were barely able to touch Nowitzki, so his 24 free throws were a bit of an aberration, but the fact that he made all 24 was not. 

There's one particular Nowitzki shot I want to talk about. Late in the 4th quarter and the Mavericks are up by seven. Nowitzki, who logged 41 minutes on the night was clearly tired. He received the ball in the post, 18-feet out. Serge Ibaka would be the victim this time. Nowitzki turned around and faced Ibaka. He was literally too tired to do anything, even bend over. He stood there with Ibaka in his face and the ball at his hip. Nowitzki held the ball for about five seconds before just raising up -- a last ditch effort. The highly arced ball fell right through the net. I don't care about a player's size or position. He isn't supposed to be able to catch the ball 18 feet out, face his defender, and swish a shot because he was too tired to do anything else. That has been Dirk Nowitzki in the 2010 Playoffs. 

The Thunder played him better in Game 2, fronting him and sending a help defender from the weakside. They also limited him to only ten free throw attempts. Nowitzki still made 10 of his 17 shots and made some excellent passes out of the double team. There's not much Oklahoma City can do with him, but they did just enough to win Game 2.

Meanwhile, Russell Westbrook is getting his typical treatment from the media. When he attacks the rim he's being too aggressive and needs to get the ball to Durant. When he doesn't attack he's being too passive and hurting his team. I'd hate to be in his position. What's funny is how Durant is getting off scot-free. Sometimes Westbrook can't get him the ball because he either hasn't used his screen properly, or isn't strong enough to create space for himself. Not Westbrook's fault, but he's received the brunt of the criticism. Magic Johnson, as part of ESPN's horrible "Bold Predictions" piece, actually said he expected Westbrook to have a 25-14-8 game. How the fuck can Westbrook win?

To Durant's credit, he'd defended Westbrook's decision-making, even drawing the ire of some who claim he's not being assertive enough. Rubbish, I say. Durant just wants to be one of the guys. Him and Westbrook have taken to MySpace to release their debut EP.

The NBA's answer to The Cool Kids?

I'm about to criticize Tom Thibodeau. Are you sure you want to do that? Yes. Really? Yes. I mean, I think so. Realllllly?

That's what I thought.

If you've watched even five Bulls games this year, you know that Thibs can be a little stubborn with his rotations. Of course, his stubbornness tends to pay off, so it's never really an issue. It was in Game 2 and cost the Bulls the game. Thibs subbed in Korver for Brewer with just under 9 minutes left in the game. The Bulls were playing with a Rose-Korver-Deng-Gibson-Asik lineup against Miami's Wade-James-Miller-Haslem-Bosh. Thibs' thinking was for Korver to hit a few threes (the Bulls were down 73-69 when Korver checked in) and get them right back in the game. Not a bad strategy except Korver has to play defense and Mike Miller was the only easy cover on the floor. Rose, who wouldn't sit the entire second half, was forced to guard Wade. This isn't bad for stretches, but not when the Bulls are completely dependent on Rose for offense at the end of a close game. Korver missed both of his three-point attempts in the 4th quarter. He was 1-3 from behind the arc in the 2nd quarter.

The Bulls are going to have trouble scoring against Miami regardless of the situation, but they most definitely won't be successful if Rose has to play the entire second half and guard Dwyane Wade for the last nine minutes of the game. Korver has to be given a short leash. If he's off he has to stay on the bench. At least with Brewer in the game, the Bulls have their best defensive lineup to accompany Rose. Rose can guard the most favorable perimeter match up and focus solely on offense. With Korver missing shots, too much pressure is put on a tired Rose to perform on both ends of the floor. Thibs stuck with Korver too long and it cost them.

I still maintain that the biggest advantage the Bulls have in this series is their coaching. Thibs won't make this type of mistake again. The Heat only scored 85 points despite 53 points on 54 percent shooting from James and Wade. The Bulls shot 34 percent (15 percent from three) and were in the game until the last couple of minutes. They let one get away.

Sometimes you have to lose yourself before you find anything.

The Ascension Of Taj Gibson

Bulls color commentator Stacey King dubbed Taj Gibson "Hard-Hat Lunch-Pail" earlier in the season. The name was supposed to give Gibson the distinction of a hard-nosed player. The type of bench guy that does the little things that usually don't end up in the box score but help his team win games. It goes without saying that Gibson and players like him are usually devoid of flash. To borrow another Staceyism, "Gibson must not have gotten the memo."

The second-year power forward provided the two flashiest and most memorable moments of Chicago's 103-82 Game One victory. The first coming at the beginning of the second quarter:



The backpedalling Wade acknowledged post-game that he had no chance of disrupting Gibson's momentum and blocking his shot. "First time I got dunked on all year," Wade added. "I'll take my 90-to-1 blocks to dunked on ratio." Of course, Wade has been dunked on this year, but not by a back-up power forward known mostly for his offensive rebounding and defensive rotations. Wade's admission, no matter how exaggerated, revealed a chink in his armor. It's one thing for him to lose a ball game, and quite another to be embarrassed while doing so.

Gibson's second dunk came in 4th quarter garbage time but was even more spectacular:



This clip was pretty much the game in a nut shell. The Bulls moved the ball, got open looks, and when it came time to crash the offensive boards, they did with much more zeal than Miami. Gibson skied above his own 7 foot teammate while Miller, Howard, and Haslem did little more than look on. Gibson's dunk was impressive aesthetically but no doubt garnered the attention it did because a) it was against Miami, and b) it was Taj Gibson, the unlikeliest of throwdown heroes in a game that featured Wade, James, and Rose.

Coming into the 2010-11 season, Gibson was thought of as more of a hard-luck loser than anything else. He played well beyond his years as a rookie last year, replacing an injured Tyrus Thomas in the starting lineup and kept the job even after Thomas returned. The Bulls needed an inside scorer and for all the things Gibson was capable of doing, volume scoring wasn't one of them. In came free-agent Carlos Boozer -- the man who was supposed to lessen Rose's burden on offense. Boozer injured his hand under mysterious circumstances, Gibson replaced him in the starting lineup, Boozer came back and returned to 20-10 form, and Gibson initially had a tough time adjusting to his reduced role off the bench.

Boozer struggled during the regular season when paired with Joakim Noah in late February. Noah returned from his thumb injury and Boozer's scoring and rebounding numbers dipped. Boozer's defense was also called into question numerous times. The Bulls were fortunate to encounter an easier stretch of their schedule while Noah was out. When the competition grew tougher all the way into the Playoffs, Boozer rarely responded. He blamed it on turf toe. Fans called for his head. I was one of those fans.

Gibson's contributions became more pronounced with Boozer as his natural foil. Boozer was making 14.4 million compared to Gibson's 1.1 million. Boozer missed 23 games of the season due to injury, while Gibson missed only two games in two years. Boozer played lazy defense, failed to close out shooters and was always late on his rotations, and to make matters worse, wasn't scoring effectively. Gibson played excellent defense, provided a shot-blocking presence down low, snatched offensive rebounds, and dove for loose balls. Gibson just seemed like he was trying harder, and improperly compensated for his effort.

The Bulls seem to be coming together at the right time. Boozer has looked active on the offensive and defensive end. He's getting his customary 10 to 15 shots per game and most of them are good looks. Gibson has finally embraced his role off the bench. He's teamed up with Asik to terrorize team's second units. Watching Gibson, there was very little doubt about whether he was up for this match up. The two are no longer contrasted like divorced parents. Boozer is the starter and Taj is one of the best reserve forwards in the NBA.

The Heat will hear from Gibson again. His big plays won't be as flashy the next time around, but that's to be expected. Take a harder look at what led to Gibson's two monster dunks: Running the floor and crashing the offensive boards. Two little things. The little things Gibson does so well.

Greivis Vasquez, Placeholder

Greivis Vasquez hit the two biggest shots of his young career in Memphis' 133-123 triple-overtime loss Monday night. The first was less of a calculated buzzer beating three-pointer, but more of an assured 26-foot fling to force a second overtime. Vasquez struck again at the end of the second overtime, converting a three point play over Westbrook to put the Grizzlies up three, seconds after Westbrook had tied the game with a trey.

Durant, Westbrook, Gasol, and Randolph were all bigger stories in this game. They're better players for one, played more minutes, had a bigger impact on the game, and will continue to factor into the NBA's changing of the guard. But I couldn't help but focus on Vasquez -- for the simple fact that he'd nudged his way, once again, into uncharted territory. He was only playing because Mike Conley Jr. fouled out in the first overtime.

I thought back to Draft Day when Vasquez emerged from the paying crowd after David Stern announced the Grizzlies had selected him with the 28th overall pick. There was Vasquez again, crashing a party he wasn't invited to.



I looked back at the 2010 NBA Draft blog I wrote in June to see if Vasquez's appearance elicited the same response in me as it does today. Not surprisingly, Vasquez was little more than a footnote in my post. I was discussing why 14 of the first 15 draft pick were in attendance:

The NBA extended more invitations to players this year. Very possible, but if they were going to invite 15 or so, they might as well have invited 20 to include players like Greivis Vasquez who had to sit in the stands; the equivalent of flying coach.

Fitting because the announcers have also chosen to discuss Vasquez as a subplot of Kevin Durant's story; the second and less important piece of a "Cool Story Bro" anecdote. Durant and Vasquez played high school ball together in Maryland, and now they're playing against each other in the Playoffs! They used to be best friends and now they're enemies for a few weeks! This story probably isn't even brought up if Vasquez was high school teammates with BJ Mullens.

Make no mistake, the Grizzlies are a better team when Conley, not Vasquez, is on the floor. Conley runs the offense more proficiently, he finds the open man more often than not, and usually is not looking to score first. But Vasquez plays like a guy who bought his own ticket to the NBA Draft. He plays like every minute he's on the floor is a minute somebody is trying to take away from him. I like those kind of players. They deserve to force overtime once in a while too.

Joe Johnson And The Definitions Of Swagger

I'm 24 years of age and am still not sure what the word "swagger" means. I have a general idea, but like all words, it becomes co-opted by various groups of people and undergoes a contextual transformation. For our purposes here, "swagger" will be discussed as a noun rather than a verb. According to The Merriam-Webster Dictionary, swagger is defined as:

     A very confident and typically arrogant or aggressive gait or manner.

An entry on UrbanDictionary.com takes the definition a step further, suggesting that swagger is not just an inherent attitude, but a reflection of one's appearance:

     The confidence exuded as a reflection of one's dress, shoe game, attitude, and how one handles a situation.

Rapper T.I., in his song "56 Bars," jokingly takes this another step further, referencing "swag" as an entity separate from the human being it represents:

     Somebody better tell 'em mane / They swag owe my swag everything / Very plain to see you study me awful hard / To the point that my swag need a bodyguard

Naturally, Atlanta's Joe Johnson would use such a layered, sometimes conflicting term to credit the Hawks' success. "I just think our swagger is a little bit different," Johnson told TNT's David Aldridge after Atlanta's 103-95 road win. "This is the post season, not the regular season."

The differentiation of the term usually boils down to whether swagger is something inherent, or always there; versus being a reflection of success, and only there when things are going well. So it's no surprise that Johnson speaks of his team's swagger as if it's a light switch in a dark room. The Atlanta Hawks have acquired the reputation of an all-or-nothing team. They're either going to play really well or very poorly, and probably lose interest at some point either way.

The question then is can the Hawks summon the magical swag they've found just in time for the Playoffs when they don't jump out to a 9-0 lead on the road and shoot 54 percent from behind the arc? Will 120-million dollar man Joe Johnson be able to make a positive impact on the floor when the Bulls are closing out better, and he's not hitting his shot? Most of us don't think so because the Hawks or Johnson haven't given us a reason to.

Atlanta's ability to hold on late in the 4th quarter in Game 6 of the Magic series was a necessary first step towards shedding their losing ways, or lack of swagger, whatever you want to call it. The Atlanta I remember would have tripped over the coffee table while reaching for the light switch. Now they have to do it again, and despite a 1-0 series lead, I bank on the old Atlanta showing up.

In the words of Sporting News' Sean Deveney, "Swagger is good, but it won't necessarily lead to a deep postseason run." Amen. Bulls in five.

Russell Westbrook As Sonic The Hedgehog

Russell Westbrook must be confused. Everything was gravy a few short weeks ago. Westbrook, along with teammate Kevin Durant, despite being a Top-4 seed and serious Championship contender, were cast as the lovable underdogs. America's answer to the more productive, and less likable Miami Heat duo. The Thunder are no longer underdogs, but a team that has dropped their first game against a Memphis team, led by Zach Randolph and Marc Gasol, whose novelty outweighs basketball talent. Unfortunately for Westbrook, he picked a bad time to have his two worst Playoff performances. The first coming in a series-clinching Game 4 of the Denver series, and the second in an always pivotal first game of the Conference Semifinals. Both resulted in Oklahoma City losses -- their only two in 2011's short-lived postseason.

Oklahoma City's problems go well beyond Westbrook. Interior defense, bench play, and rebounding to name a few. Westbrook has been heavily scrutinized for his shot selection and the sheer volume of his shots. He attempted 30, many of them bad, in the Thunder's Game 4 loss in Denver. Westbrook had attempted 30 or more shots only once in the regular season, a three-point win over the Nets in which Kevin Durant didn't play. Westbrook attempted 23 shots in Oklahoma City's Game 1 loss, a number he reached in the regular season only eight of the 82 games he started. He attempted 23 or more shots in about ten percent of his regular season games, and has already hit that mark in three of the Thunder's six playoff games. That type of irregularity, especially in losing efforts, gets noticed.

"Offensively we're going too fast," Thunder head coach Scott Brooks hollered during a 2nd quarter timeout. "Let the offense work for us." Brooks hung on the word "fast" as if he'd just witnessed a murder. He might as well have been staring right at Westbrook. But Russell Westbrook knows only one speed. He's always going fast, and his speed can be just as detrimental as it is beneficial. He's Sonic the Hedgehog.      



Remember playing Sonic? His speed often times defied the power of a Sega Genesis controller. The user could rev him up and direct him towards various loops and trampolines, but ultimately where Sonic would end up was anybody's guess. The user was just as likely to fall into a wall of golden rings as a cave full of deadly spikes, and all of it happened so fast. Such is the Russell Westbrook conundrum.

Westbrook's game has always been a little bit out of control. It worked wonderfully in FIBA play where the size, strength, and speed of his opponents paled in comparison to his own. But in the NBA his style of play often leads to low percentage pull-up jumpers, errant passes, and stripped balls. Westbrook led the league in turnovers this year and his inaugural 2008-09 season. He added seven more in Game 1, accounting for about 40 percent of his team's turnovers.

This is how Westbrook has always played. He's a high risk, high reward player. He has attempted three more shots per game in the Playoffs than the regular season, but the turnovers and questionable shot selection have remained the same. The difference is that the Thunder normally win. They've still won four of their six games, but losses are put under a microscope in the Playoffs. Some people have had the nerve to suggest Westbrook is trying to be the hero this postseason, and as a result refusing to defer to Durant, the team's best player. I've also heard some suggestions that a possible Marbury-Garnett in Minnesota tiff is developing between the two. Nonsense. They've won with Westbrook playing this way and will continue to. It's just not always pretty.

The question shouldn't be how do we slow down Westbrook? But what's waiting on the other side of the loop?