All Around The World The Same Song

"Give me that stupid hat and take off your shirt!" Or something along those lines.

All of the worst things people say about Valentine's Day are true. It is a made-up holiday, no doubt, manufactured for the purpose of selling candy, flowers, and Hallmark cards. It puts unnecessary pressure on guys who feel they've done a pretty good job up to this point. Worse yet, Valentine's Day plays on the insecurities of (mostly) women whose existence is validated by a man in their life. You are not single and have not been for some time. Being the pampered soul you are, you bemoan the yearly difficulties of impressing someone who is going to love you regardless.

Valentine's Day is not all anxiety and depression. In a long-term relationship, you, and everyone really, have the tendency to take your partner for granted. Valentine's Day, if nothing else, is your yearly reminder to show them you care, even though you don't always show it. You'd prefer something less traditional as a Valentine's Day warm-up, but your girlfriend wants to see The Vow. You think of hundreds of things, some of them very unsavory, you would rather do, but your girlfriend wants to see The Vow so The Vow is what you're going to see. You've subjected her to the Washington Wizards and the Portland Trail Blazers and Tony Allen enough to understand relationships even things out. You recall a recent conversation:

"Who's playing?"

"The Knicks and Timberwolves."

"Gross. Who do you want to win?"

"Oh, I don't really care."

"Why are you watching if you don't care who wins?"

You have no good answer for this question. It isn't normal to watch a six or so hours of basketball a night? Normal people do other things on Saturday night? You watch basketball because that's what you enjoy, and you cannot explain why you get so much satisfaction from sitting idly and watching others achieve athletic greatness. It isn't easy to love you, you understand, and realize the least you can do is sit still for two more hours and watch The Vow instead of LeBron.


The Vow transports you to a world where you are supposed to believe Channing Tatum is an underdog, overdue bills are paid with LOVE, and a near fatal car accident is ultimately beneficial. Tatum wears a goofy hat in the beginning and ugly sweaters throughout--a deal breaker for most guys, but Channing Tatum is not most guys. He made the women in the theater (about 80 percent of the crowd) swoon when he appeared in a        
non-frontal nude scene. His love interest, Rachel McAdams is a well-dressed coat rack, serving mostly to get Tatum naked and to help him set an impossible "good guy" standard. Despite the plot being structured around McAdams' ability to remember, you get the feeling a hour-long loop of Tatum in his underwear reciting a sappy monologue would have grossed the same.

There is no need to get into the story because you know how the story ends. This does not stop you, however, from becoming immersed. You try to deny it, but a part of you says "Fuck Jeremy," and wonders why it's taking so long for McAdams to make the right decision. This can't possibly be a true story like the opening credits say it is, and if so, how much money are these real people making off this? The actress playing McAdams' sister is fortunate to look like her, you think, helping time move by. You want to feel above this, but you know you aren't. Deep down, you know every basketball season is no different from the worst chick flicks.

The ending, storylines, and drama are the same, played by different actors/players and shifting circumstances based on story/team. You know the year will end with a champion being crowned. You know there will be surprise team and a surprise rookie or two. You know this team will come up short in the playoffs and these breakout player(s) will regress to the mean. You don't care. This is your preferred form of entertainment. The difference being, those who enjoy chick flicks always root for the winner. They know they will leave happy. It's not like that in sports. You don't want your team to be Jeremy or the douchy future-brother-in-law who, in his big scene, questions the profitability of a recording studio in today's day and age. You want your team to be Channing Tatum and there can only be one.

To borrow an English phrase, the Bulls seem to be losing the plot a bit. At full-strength they're the best team in the NBA. Will they ever be at full-strength though? This is not meant to be a panicked reaction to a regular season road loss to Boston without Derrick Rose. This is a legitimate concern come playoff time. The Bulls will finish with the top seed in the East and face Miami in the Eastern Conference Finals. This is the predictable part of the movie. Nagging injuries or not, as long as Rose and Deng play, the Bulls are good enough to get past the first two rounds. Rose and Deng's injuries seem like they aren't going away and Rip Hamilton has literally went away somewhere. No one has seen him in weeks. Twenty-point road wins against bad teams are nice and all, but Miami is the only real competition to get the girl.

It feels like the Bulls are descending into supporting role territory or even worse, one of those woman who hosts an Anti-Valentine's Day Party. That's probably too extreme you're thinking, but remember, you sat through The Vow last night--you're not thinking straight. Your bewilderment and inherent pessimism knows no bounds and you just want the Bulls to be Channing Tatum because The Vow did its job and made you feel oh so inadequate.

See how none of this makes sense?        

To All The Przybillas and a Hundred Dollar Billas

"Disappointment never looked this good."

I happened again. The Bulls dropped their third in the last five after only losing three of their first sixteen games. It's obviously time to panic. You can only place the onus on Deng's return for so long. The Bulls need to make a move and they need to do it now. Dwight Howard recently said he'd be interested in playing in Chicago. He also unknowingly agreed to a long-term deal with the Beirut Bandits, so take his word for what it's worth. Howard to the Bulls isn't happening and Bulls fans know it. Think smaller, more under the radar, but big impact implications. Consider a different 7-foot shot-blocking machine who used to grab 20 boards when given the playing time. Think Joel Przybilla. He's been waiting patiently. He's wants back in. He has plenty to prove and he needs to prove it in a Bulls uniform.

Przybilla was the 9th overall pick in the 2000 Draft--a draft renowned for its legendary awfulness. This alone makes him a particularly suitable candidate to play 10 minutes a game every tenth game. The oft-injured center was seen jiving on the bench with Greg Oden during his six-year stint in Portland. The duo made the best of a frustrating situation. They compared suits, often leaving the price tag on because who wants to pay for 55 different suits a season when they can just take them back? They chastised Andre Miller's haircut from a distance and exchanged sweet potato pie recipes. Occasionally Przybilla would be forced to leave his friend and play in a game that night. Oden, sulking and lonely, watched as Przybilla developed into a defensive force. He blocked shots and grabbed rebounds with the ferociousness of a descending turkey vulture. He did all of the things (besides score) that Oden was supposed to do better and more frequently for the Trail Blazers.

The Sixers scored 46 of their 98 points in the paint (47 percent) against the Bulls last night. That number is entirely too high for a perimeter-oriented team. Now I ask you, would Przybilla's presence at the end of the Bulls' bench not help in this department? Would his acquisition not put the Eastern Conference on notice like Rasual Butler's did last year? At the very least, Przybilla provides insurance should one of the bigs go down with an injury, assuming Przybilla doesn't go down with an injury first. Przybilla's arrival would also allow Brian Scalabrine to return to the familiar 'victory cigar' role he excelled at last season. In a lockout-shortened season bereft of continuity, Przybilla's arrival could change everything.

As much as I would like to suggest differently, my newfound support of Przybilla is motivated by a case of 'Keeping up with the Jameses.' Przybilla is currently mulling over offers from the Bulls and Heat and expected to make a decision sometime this week. If the Bulls don't get Przybilla, then the Heat do, and I don't want the Heat to get anyone. Envy has its limits. The Heat can take Eddy Curry and place whatever hopes they feel comfortable with on his ability to not register on the Richter Scale. Eddy Curry at best is a resealed driveway. Przybilla could potentially be new siding. I don't care if you can't afford it. You dip into the savings, call up your father-in-law crying, do whatever you have to do to make sure your asshole neighbors aren't the only ones in the neighborhood with new siding.

In summation, Joel Przybilla will contribute very little to the Bulls. He won't play unless someone is injured, but he will designate Scalabrine back to the bench. He may be the secret weapon to clogging up driving lanes in the playoffs or he may pull up lame his first game back on the court. He certainly will not have a problem elbowing a driving Derrick Rose in the head, and I would much rather it be a driving LeBron James or Dwyane Wade he is elbowing in the head. The Heat could use a goonish big man and thus, should not be allowed to have one.

Make it happen Bulls. Send someone else out on the recruiting trip if Derrick Rose doesn't want to go. Joel Przybilla cannot land in Miami. Where he goes will shift the balance of power in the East or make no difference at all.     

Mom, I Finally Made It

Derrick Rose signed a 5-year contract extension worth 94.8 million today. He turned to his mother and proclaimed, "Mom, I finally made it." Just when you thought you couldn't love him anymore he goes and says something like that and makes your heart melt. He plans on putting some of this money into the Englewood neighborhood he grew up in. Of course he does. It has always been my belief that ONE championship from Rose -- because of his humility, already-legendary work ethic, and Chicago roots, would mean more than the SIX championships the 1990s Bulls brought home. I don't think we'll ever see another athlete this beloved by the city of Chicago. His extension is well-deserved, obviously.

Here are some photos to commemorate the event. Click to embiggen.

Prodigious Chicago emcee Common introduces Derrick Rose at a promotional event for his new adiZero Rose 2 basketball shoes.

Meanwhile, LeBron James could not hold back his excitement as he nuzzled up to 'rapper' Drake.

Why Don't You Like Me?

Maybe I'm wrong, but it seems that the younger generation, which I still consider myself to be a part of, has an unhealthy obsession with being hated. Perhaps this this just a poor reflection of the people I associate with and am trying to distance myself from, but I can't go on Facebook or sometimes even Twitter without someone mentioning their "haters." Whether these haters are perceived or real, I'm going with perceived 99 percent of the time, is besides the point. I blame rap music. (Just kidding).

For one to be hated, at least in the context of this younger generation, is usually the result of having achieved success in life. The "haters" are jealous of success and turn to bitterness and hatred of others as a way to mask their own problems. This is by no means a new concept, just one I feel is being flipped around and used as a badge of honor nowadays. I don't think 1950s businessmen gauged their success by the amount of negativity surrounding them, but I also wasn't alive in the 1950s.

The so-called normal people's (by that I mean not rich or famous) claims of being hated usually fall on deaf ears. Let's use my life as an example. I spend hours of my day reading books and Internet articles. I hand-write an unfinished novel in my former high school and college notebooks. When I'm not writing in those notebooks, I stare at the computer screen and think of sports-related things to write on this blog. I own one pair of jeans and about 8-10 T-Shirts. I have a medium-sized record collection, half of which was inherited. No one in their right mind would waste their time being jealous of me.

However, being hated is something the sports fan knows all too well. Miami football. Duke basketball. Yankees baseball. Cowboys football. Big-Three Heat basketball. Ask fans of these teams how kindly they're received. Chances are fans of these teams probably start to enjoy the hate after a while. Save for the still-in-the-process-of-trying-to-win-it-all-Heat, all of these teams have had tremendous success in the past. There are certainly other factors that contribute to the hatred of them and their fan base, but it all starts with success. No one cares about a perennial loser.

Since so many "normal people" gravitate towards sports, it seems natural that one's affiliation with a sports team is probably their only hateable offense. I've always wanted to know what this feels like. The closest I ever felt to hatred because of the team I rooted for was sophomore year of college. I went to school in Wisconsin and the Bears went to the Super Bowl. I wore my Bears hat like a scarlet letter. The Bears went on to lose the Super Bowl, so the joke was kind of on me in the end. The Cubs exist as a mere punchline. Outside of New York, the Bulls teams of the 90s were more revered than hated. 

I think this year's Wisconsin Badgers have a real chance of being the college football team everyone loves to hate. College football teams like Miami, Ohio State, and Notre Dame will always have their fair share of detractors regardless of how good they are, but hatred in sports moves in cycles. When the constants are losing, the public needs a new whipping boy. For Wisconsin, I think all the necessary elements are there for a one-year hatred period.

Take a look at Wisconsin's schedule. Now think of a sexually inappropriate joke to signify how easy something is. Their non-conference schedule includes home games against UNLV, Oregon State, and Div. 1-FCS's own South Dakota, and a game against Northern Illinois at "neutral" Soldier Field. Given the size of Wisconsin's fan base, number of alumni who live in Chicago, and the close proximity to Madison, this is basically another home game. Wisconsin doesn't face a true road contest until October 22nd in East Lansing! Add in the uncertainty surrounding Michigan State, Ohio State, and Penn State's programs, and it's very possible a home game against Nebraska, the fifth game of the season, will be Wisconsin's only roadblock to an undefeated season. Indiana, Purdue, Minnesota, and Illinois are well-dressed punching bags. People love to hate on team's with easy schedules. Especially those god-forsaken SEC supporters.          

Viewers of the Big Ten Network will remember the above commercial well. It's notable now because half of the featured coaches have since been canned, and for just how creepy Joe Paterno is. Would you entrust your child's future with this 84-year-old man? I thought this was supposed to be a promotional tool...You'll notice Bret Bielema sporting his patented Bielema voice.

"Big Dubyah. On the helmet."

"Alrighty, boys. Let's run the pigskin up the gut now. Woo-boy is it a good day for football."

Bielema grew up on a hog farm in Prophetstown, a tiny city in northwest Illinois. "I always chuckle because I came from a town of 1,800 people," Bielema once said. "But I had 2,500 pigs on my farm." If there's a better person to represent the state of Wisconsin and the Midwest as a whole, I can't think of anyone. During his time at Florida, head coach Steve Spurrier used to play with the dumb southerner stereotype. "Well, aww shucks, guys," he'd say. "I'm just slingin' the ball 'round, not worried bout scorin' no heap a points." He ran up the score on opponents and played dumb while doing so.

"We're just playing Wisconsin smash-mouth football," Bielema says. Bielema may just be the Midwest version of 90s Spurrier. Score points, a lot of them, and then rationalize it in the form of regional colloquialisms. Bielema already has the reputation of being a bit of a prick in that respect. The Badgers scored 201 points in their last three games of last year, including 83 on Indiana. They scored 70 or more in three different games. The motivation for this seemed to be because they could. People don't like when teams show up lesser opponents, and if his previous years at the helm are any indication, there will be plenty of that this year from Bielema.

Wisconsin wins the old-fashioned way. Run the ball (preferably 50 times a game), draw up a few intermediate passing routes to keep the defense honest, win the special teams battle, and play reasonably stout defense. There's nothing pretty about this kind of football unless you enjoy seeing 12 yard runs up the middle for six straight minutes. Plenty of people, including myself, love to see a good rushing attack pan out, but plenty others, especially neutrals, want to see the ball fly more than two times every drive. People hate to see boring win, and Wisconsin wins in boring fashion.

To recap: college football appears to be in need of a team to hate this year because the traditionally hated teams probably won't figure prominently in this year's national title race. Wisconsin has many of the necessary elements to make a team worth hating. They have a pathetic non-conference schedule and possibly a weak conference schedule as well. They have a coach with a reputation for running the score up, who represents the Midwest a little more strongly than anyone outside the Midwest is comfortable with. And Wisconsin does not play an exciting brand of football. Get your tomatoes ready.

There's only one thing left to say:

Reaching For The Lance Briggs Jersey

At one point, ten years ago, it was socially acceptable for a grown man to wear a jersey while going about his everyday life. Not so in 2011. Jersey-wearing has been relegated to either the paying fan in attendance, or (usually football) fan taking in the game at a bar. I'm not sure if I'm alone in this assumption, but I tend to judge people based on the jersey they're wearing. These assumptions are wide-ranging and are based on anything from the player's persona to the age and make of the jersey. For example, a LeBron James Heat jersey warrants a 0 on the 1-10 Respect Scale from me, whereas a Detlef Schrempf Sonics pre-1995 logo change jersey warrants a 10.

I have an issue with men who wear the jersey of a player who has long since played for a particular team. To this day, I spot Cade McNown, Kyle Orton, and Muhsin Muhammad jerseys around Chicago-area bars. I'm sorry, you may be the world's biggest Greg Olsen or Nathan Vasher fan, but those Bears jerseys no longer have any business being worn out in public. There's a few exceptions to the former player rule. First, if a player is retired and his best years were spent with the team on the jersey then it's OK to wear. However, if this former player also spent the twilight of his career, struggling to stay on with a few other teams, these jerseys are unacceptable. If Green Bay fans want to forgive and forget and dust off the ol' Brett Favre number 4, then that's fine. Brett Favre Jets and Vikings jerseys should remain in the back of the closet collecting dust.  Jerseys of a franchise's all-time greats are also acceptable in my book. You'll see a smattering of 34s, 51s, and 89s at Soldier Field this year. It's good to pay homage.

When considering which player's jersey to purchase, I have six simple rules:

1) Don't be fooled by the fan favorite that somehow is beloved even though he sucks at playing his sport. Tony Campana and Brian Scalabrine are better examples than any Bears player.
2) Stay away from the big-contract guy your team just snagged away. This is more of an issue in basketball or baseball where contracts are guaranteed and player productions sometimes falls off once they receive their payday. Julius Peppers is a good football counterexample.
3) Beware of the one-year wonder. These are sometimes hard to identify, but a good bet is on a guy who was drafted in the late-first or second round of the NBA draft, a closer, or a Pro Bowl special teams player.
4) Make sure the player in question will be with your team for at least three more years -- there's nothing worse (in the jersey purchasing world) than ponying up 80+ dollars for a jersey of a player who is traded or leaves as a free-agent a year later. It is almost impossible to predict trades, but age, production, contract situation, team needs, and how close or far away a team is from contending are good indicators. If there's even a hint of a player testing the free-agent waters, hold off on his jersey purchase.
5) If a player how gotten into even the slightest bit of off the field trouble, reevaluate the jersey purchase. This is the hardest point to adhere to, mainly because an athlete's character is often misunderstood or overblown to move along a slow news day.
6) Under no circumstances should you buy a LeBron James Heat jersey.

Lance Briggs is the only NFL jersey I have ever owned. I always wanted an NFL jersey to wear on Sundays. As luck would have it, my girlfriend and my anniversary was/is a week before the start of football season. She needed a gift idea and I was more than happy to suggest a Bears jersey. I wrote last year about the general lack of excitement surrounding the Bears before the start of the season. At the time, Briggs seemed to be the only Bear worthy of a jersey purchase.

I proudly wore my Briggs jersey during every game last year. Little did I know, I broke rule number 5 on my list. Lance Briggs hasn't had any pressing off the field issues -- unless you want to count the time he crashed his Lamborghini on Edens Expressway and left the scene under mysterious circumstances. It's kind of amazing this didn't draw more ire than it did.

Briggs does however have a reputation for being a bit of headcase. After being hit with the franchise tag in 2007 to prevent him from becoming a free-agent he demanded a trade, and, among other things said, "I've played my last snap for them. I'll never play another down for Chicago again." The Bears caved and Briggs received a 6-year deal worth up to 36 million before the 2007 season and is currently looking for a new deal.

I understand the lack of guaranteed contracts combined with football's inherent injury risk places players in a difficult situation. They feel they should be compensated relative to what the next guy with similar production is getting. They can be cut or suffer a career ending injury at any time, lose guaranteed millions and most people won't blink an eye. There's a sense of urgency from NFL players to get paid NOW, and there has to be. I understand, but how many contract squabbles are too many?

To tie everything together, since I believe everything comes back around, I wonder: how will people judge a man in a Lance Briggs jersey? Not warmly, I presume. Especially if Briggs' contract talk, or lack thereof, seems to have an impact on the season. Briggs has not played a down of preseason football due to injury. Just as the man wearing the LeBron James 6 navigates his way through life constantly being shot sideways glances, I too am prepared for a potential Lance Briggs backlash. If wearing his jersey means I'll be looked at as a whining, insecure, money grabber who needs to be coddled and reaffirmed of his place in the world, then so be it. The jersey fits, after all.

A Wolf In Genie's Clothing

The day has finally arrived. Shaquille O'Neal has decided to retire and I'm overcome with the sentiment I always thought I would be: It's about time. Shaq's beaten and bloated body checked out three years ago. His media personality -- the attention-seeking egomaniac that cunningly masqueraded as a charming quote machine has run its course. At age 39, Shaq finally retired and don't think for a second that his timing -- a Wednesday, on the day off between NBA Finals games -- was not strategic. He wanted the spotlight all to himself, and the media will undoubtedly comply. It's the least they could do, really, for someone who provided week's worth of headlines and talking points during his 19-year career.

I'm probably being too harsh on Shaq. For all of his perceived character flaws, he was a tremendous player. Probably the most physically dominant basketball player I've ever seen. My appreciation for Shaq's offensive prowess divvies up nicely into three parts, which coincide with his stints in Orlando, Los Angeles, and Miami.

I was five years old when the Magic selected O'Neal with the first overall pick in the 1992 Draft. Growing up, I remember hearing about the physically imposing presence that Shaq was. He unabashedly dunked on his opponents, he brought down backboards, and did so because he was so much bigger and stronger than everyone he went up against. According to the people around me, Shaq was basically a brute. He dominated more because of his strength, almost in opposition to a fruitful set of basketball skills. This partly accurate understanding seems to have stuck.

When Shaq joined the Lakers in 1996, I was mostly preoccupied with the Bulls. Shaq's turn-of-the-decade championship years were when I really started to pay attention. I was intrigued by Shaq because he was still the most physically dominant player in the League -- capable of 30 and 15 every time out -- but possessed skills that I rarely heard people talk about. Sure, many if not most of his points were catches within five feet that he easily threw down. But I remember Shaq's footwork in the post being much more advanced than I would have thought for someone his size. I also thought he was never properly credited for his excellent touch around the basket. This was also around the time when team's began employing the "Hack-a-Shaq" philosophy. Shaq will always be remembered for his poor free throw shooting, mainly because sending him to the line in the early 2000s was the only chance you had at containing him.

Shaq joined the Heat in 2004 with plenty left in the tank. He almost won the MVP after his first year in Miami and was rewarded with a 100 million dollar contract. He began to break down the following year and was never truly the same. Shaq could no longer play major minutes and had lost some of the underrated athleticism that made him more than just a dunker. Forced to contribute in other ways, Shaq became a great passer, particularly out of double-teams in the post, and was a huge reason the Heat won the title in 2006.

O'Neal's last three years have rubbed me the wrong way. He was dealt to Phoenix and made some disparaging remarks about his teammates and coach in Miami on the way out. This was Shaq's specialty through out his career: he burned bridges everywhere he played, and disregarded the efforts and importance of the star player that played alongside him; and even non-teammates such as Yao Ming and Dwight Howard who threatened to take his spot as the next big thing at the center position. He blatantly chased championships during the last two years of his career in Cleveland and Boston. All of this has been swept under the rug though because he's Shaq. And the good-natured, 7-foot goofball couldn't possibly be in it for any other reason than to dunk a few basketballs and share a few laughs.

* * *

It's time to open up "The Box." "The Box" is a white, 16 x 25 cardboard box that weighs roughly 15 pounds and sits atop my bookshelf. It is filled with basketball memorabilia I collected during my childhood, mostly between 1993-2003. I start digging around inside whenever I feel the urge, or something like Shaq's retirement happens. I found a few interesting Shaq artifacts.

Here are a couple of cards from Shaq's Lakers days. Notice the way the back of both cards focus on his size and strength. Click on all of these pictures to enlarge.

The only player with a 40-20 in each of the first two games of a Playoff series. When you accomplish something having to do with points and rebounds that Wilt Chamberlain didn't, you're other-worldly.

In 2000-01, O'Neal scored 974 more points than any other center. By contrast, Dwight Howard led the League in scoring amongst centers in 2010-11. He scored 111 more points than Brook Lopez.

Here's a Shaq action figure. He's donning his 1993 NBA All-Star jersey. This once belonged to my brother. Hopefully he's not still looking for it.

And a Shaq basketball (the signature is not real). I remember taking this ball outside and playing with it once. Then a voice inside my head said, "What the fuck are you doing, Joe? You're going to want this to be in good condition so you can look at it when you're older." Foresight.

This is a Shaq rookie card in which he yams on Alonzo Mourning. Mourning probably got away with the foul.

Also making an appearance: Ol' Jud Buechler from the back-lookin' Tom Tolbert.

Remember me? I was the bald white guy that used to annoy the shit out of you during halftime before Jon Barry. Suck it, Jon. You'd be unemployable if it wasn't for me.

Shaq rookie card equipped with shiny, silver encasement. I thought this one would be worth at least 50 bucks. I saw it on eBay for as low as $1.25.

            
Shaq should be a controversial figure. Instead, he endeared himself to the media early and kept fans wrapped around his finger. Shaq was great at deflecting his own personal shortcomings into funny quips. He was also a hell of a basketball player, and a cultural icon. We'll remember him mostly for the latter two, and it's probably better that way.

"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.

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.

Day 12: Heat-Sixers (Game 5)

Discussions surrounding the Heat started to become a little ridiculous after Game 2. The Heat were coming off an easy 21 point victory, and one writer wondered if winning big was detrimental to the Heat. Yes, the Heat somehow became more susceptible to an upset because they blew a team out. The article argued that because the Heat struggled to close games during the regular season, mopping the floor with teams in the postseason was simply a recreation of their successful runs. What the Heat really needed was to learn how to finish close games.

I digested this opinion and immediately thought, would we be asking the same question if it was the Lakers, Spurs, or Celtics rolling through the first round? Of course we wouldn't. We'd say these teams were elevating their game come Playoff time and priming themselves for the long stretch. Basically, we'd spin this positively.

But not when it comes to the Heat. Everything about the Heat is looked at critically. Some of that is the left over animosity following "The Decision" and some of it is fueled by the fear that the Heat may take over the league. The Heat haven't won anything yet, their critics will point out; and that is why we're allowed to question their crunch time struggles.

Strangely enough, Game 2 was the only one-sided affair. The four other games followed a similar pattern. The Sixers got off to a fast start, the Heat quickly squashed them in the second quarter, and both teams played relatively even in the second half, with the Heat converting down the stretch. With the exception of Game 2, every game was decided by 8 points or less. I'd call those close games. The Heat have proven themselves capable of closing out games in this series, but even that isn't enough. Boston's transition defense is better and they play at a slower pace. The Heat will need to beat Boston in order to earn any respect.

I've always maintained (speaking in generalities of course) that beating the Heat came down to limiting Chris Bosh. My line of thinking went: LeBron and Wade are going to score their customary 50 to 60 points regardless of how well you play them. Miami's team outside of the Big Three couldn't be counted on for any significant production. Therefore, Bosh and his 18 points per game were the wild card. If you could limit him to 10 or 12 and force the supporting cast to beat you, then you stand a pretty good chance of winning.

My thinking was largely molded from the Bosh's performances in Miami's opening game against Boston (8 points, 3-11 shooting) and his infamous 1-18 game in Chicago. The way I remembered them, Miami's losses were the result of poor games from Bosh and the supporting cast, while LeBron and Wade went off. The Game 4 loss seemed to support my theory. Bosh (12 points) and everyone not named Wade or LeBron (17 combined points) had their worst game of the series, and Wade and LeBron combined for 53.

My memory failed me.

Wade was just as likely to have a bad game as Bosh in games the Heat lost. Bosh averaged 18.7 ppg during the regular season, 17 ppg in Heat losses. In every Heat loss each member of the Big Three participated in, at least one of them had a bad game. But they also won plenty of games when either LeBron, Wade, or Bosh put together a less than stellar performance. They did it with great defense and timely scoring from their supporting cast.

So far the supporting cast has come through: 34, 30, 25, and 33 points in Games 1, 2, 3, and 5, and lockdown team defense. But we don't want to hear about that. How will the Heat respond when they have the ball for the last possession, down by two. Who takes the shot? LeBron did in Game 4 and the Heat lost. Ultimately, the Heat will be judged in the closing seconds of a ball game. The closing seconds figure to mean more against Boston.  

Cleveland's Long Road To Rebuilding

A central theme of Miami and Cleveland's fourth and final match-up of the season Tuesday night was "showing up." Most observers, including myself, felt all Miami had to do was show up in order to win. They'd won the previous three match-ups by an average of 20 points, more than tripled the Cavs win total this season, and flat out possess more talent on their roster.

LeBron James also failed to show up for the pregame introductions, launching a thousand speculations as to why. The least likely among them is that James was scared to face the chorus of boos waiting for him. Unlikely because James has been serenaded with boos from every city this season and took part in the introductions on December 2nd, the last time the Heat played in Cleveland.

James claimed he was in the restroom during the introductions. Obviously, an eight-year veteran who hasn't missed a pregame introduction in his career shouldn't be granted the benefit of the doubt in this case. James most likely skipped the introductions in protest of some of his friends and associates being denied access to an underground parking garage at Quicken Loans Arena. The privilege, routinely granted to James' entourage when he was a member of the team, isn't typically granted to visiting players.

James hogged the pre-game and much of the in-game conversation, posting the 36th triple-double of his career. But Tuesday night was undoubtedly about the Cavaliers and their 102-90 win.

In their first meeting in Cleveland, the Cavs were rightly accused of cowering to LeBron. They joked with him as he approached their bench during free throw attempts and offered very little resistance on the defensive end. The Cavs went on to lose 35 of their next 36 games. Followers of the team pointed to the Miami game as the one that rocked the Cavs' confidence.

Heading into Tuesday's game the future of both teams was already decided. The 14-58 Cavs were headed for the draft lottery and the 51-22 Heat were gunning for the 2nd seed in the Eastern Conference playoffs. A win figured to mean more to the Heat, but no one bothered to mention that to the new look Cavs.

Ryan Hollins shut Bosh down, holding him to 10 points on 5-14 shooting. He provided the defensive intensity that was sorely lacking during their December match up. Anthony Parker hit four three-pointers, all of which either prolonged a Cleveland run, or killed one of Miami's. Luke Harangody came off the bench looking to score and poured in seven 2nd quarter points. He was the biggest reason the Cavs held an 11-point lead at halftime. All unlikely heroes indeed, which seems only fitting for Cleveland's Herculean toppling of the supposed Miami super team.

I'm reminded of a quote from 1994 children's movie classic Little Giants, which coincidentally took place in Urbana, Ohio, about 200 miles southwest of Cleveland. Giants coach and perpetual loser Danny O'Shea addresses his depleted team at halftime of a blowout at the hands of the Cowboys, coached by his older brother Kevin. 

Danny O'Shea: ...you guys belong out there with those Cowboys. You know how I know that? Because I belong out there with my brother.


Rudy Zolteck: Give us a break, coach. You could never beat Kevin O'Shea at *anything*!

Danny O'Shea: That's not true. I did beat him once.

Jake Berman: When?

Danny O'Shea: When we were kids. We used to race our bikes down Cherry Hill every day after school. We raced every day and he always beat me, but one time, one time... I beat him.

Jake Berman: You beat Kevin down Cherry Hill?

Danny O'Shea: Yes, I did. He ate my dust.

This was the Cavs' one time.
 
It is now important for the Cavaliers and the city of Cleveland to move on. Even the Packers had to get over the hump and beat Brett Favre before they won the Super Bowl. The LeBron James chapter is now closed. Continuing to curse his name and sell out only the games he plays in just shows how dependent they are on the idea of LeBron.
Tuesday night was about the Cleveland Cavaliers and no one else. They showed up and beat a team they didn't deserve to be on the floor with. The city of Cleveland can be proud, if only for one night. This feeling, even more important than the upcoming 2011 Draft, is the first step towards the rebuilding process.

A Good Cry

The Miami Heat taught us all a valuable lesson yesterday. Actually, a few valuable lessons. Firstly, about professional basketball, and secondly, their competitive spirit. The fun part of course is that we probably weren't meant to learn any of this.
Heat coach Erik Spoelstra's admission that a few Miami Heat players were crying in the locker room after their 87-86 loss to the Bulls set off yet another firestorm that the franchise has grown so accustomed to dealing with this year. Spoelstra's comments were meant to exhibit how badly the team wanted to win. Instead, most people used the comments to argue that the Heat were a mentally soft team, a viewpoint they probably already held, and were looking to confirm. And so goes the double standard...
There's a long-held view about the NBA, propagated mostly by the over-50 crowd that the players don't care. They're content earning a paycheck and being friends with each other. Basically, winning is the least of their worries.
The NBA naysayers point to the college game as a true model of how players should carry themselves. In this year's March Madness tournament, the camera will surely focus on a lone player on the bench, head down, crying into his towel. This will probably be a senior, and the best player on a lowly-ranked Cinderella team.
"Look at how passionate he is," the NBA naysayer will say. "Now that's a player who gave it his all, came up short, and couldn't hold his emotions in any longer. I've never seen an NBA player care that much."
So thank you Erik Spoelstra for revealing that your players were crying. Thank you Dwight Howard for going on The Dan Patrick Show and telling him that you cried numerous times after losses your rookie season, and also after losing the 2009 NBA Finals to the Lakers.
When college players cry it's because they care so much about the game, when professional players cry it's because they're pussies. NBA players care, maybe not all of them, but most do. The question should be, why are they crucified for caring?

There's some revisionist history at work regarding the 2010 Summer free-agency period. Most people now will say "The Decision" and the premature celebration parade the Heat threw before even filling out the roster were their main gripes. Lies, all lies.
The problem, in most people's eyes, was that LeBron and Wade, two of the best, if not the two best players in basketball were playing together. This was supposed to mark the end of competitiveness as we knew it. How could LeBron and Wade want to play together? Didn't they have a competitive bone in their body?
The Heat were looked at as a team that wanted to coast to a Championship. A team that would be able to put an end to all competition. Hell, even the Heat players themselves believed this. It hasn't worked out that way. The Heat are the third best team in the East. They're 1-9 against elite teams and have looked absolutely clueless on offense at times. It hasn't been easy, and it isn't going to be easy.
Now we're seeing the Heat's true colors. They realize they can't coast through the season. They're putting forth maximum effort, but guess what? They're just not that good. Not Championship-level good, at least.
I wrote a few weeks ago that teaming up may have been the most competitive thing the Heat could have done. The competition instead would come from within. Playing with elite teammates would in fact push them to greater heights, more so than playing against elite opponents ever could. Turns out I, and many others underrated their outside competition.
The Heat crying in the locker room tells me they've accepted a challenge and want to win. They may not win anything significant but it won't be because they're afraid of a little competition. At the end of the day, that's all I want. I want to feel like athletes give as much of a fuck as I do. And I believe the Heat do.
Some things are meant to stay in house. I'm glad this little crying incident didn't.

Big, Imposing Question Marks

Minding my own business a few days ago, I noticed a retweet from someone I was following which read something like this: "1) Rose wins MVP 2) Tibs wins COY 3) Bulls get 1 seed 4) Bulls win finals." The tweet, typed in earnest, was retweeted to mock Bulls fans and their tendency to be "a little" delusional.
But looking at that list, all of those things are possible, right? I've prided myself in remaining, or at least trying to remain rational throughout this season. The last thing I want to do is fall off the wagon now.
Either way, the tweet got me to thinking about the percent chance of each scenario occurring. These numbers are not based on any higher formula, just a simple high or low number used to signify likelihood.
Tom Thibodeau wins Coach of the Year --> 90 Percent. The COY trend is well known by now: give the award to the coach of the league's most improved team. Fresh off of two straight 41 win seasons and low playoff seeds, the Bulls are now in line to secure a Top 3 seed and a win total in the upper-50s. Most people expected the Bulls to improve, but not to the degree they have. A 4 seed and 50 wins seemed about right in preseason, and that was assuming the team would be healthy. Thibs has preached defense since day one and it shows. The Bulls are winning games on the defensive end.
Gregg Popovich is another candidate, but is often overlooked for the honor because the Spurs have been consistently good for so long. I'm not sure a 68 win season would even win him the award this year.
A wild card is first-year 76ers coach Doug Collins. Collins not only has Philadelphia in the playoff hunt, but challenging the Knicks for the sixth spot. In reality, the 76ers are probably the biggest surprise team of the NBA thus far. But a potential sixth seed doesn't compete with a possible one seed and legitimate Finals hopes.
Derrick Rose wins MVP --> 75 Percent. I've been going back and forth with this number. A few days ago I thought it was just right. Today, I feel it might be a little high. For the last month or so the MVP race seemed to be between D. Rose and LeBron. LeBron had the disadvantage of the whole Decision/playing with other superstars thing. Also, like the Spurs, he's so consistently good, we tend to overlook him. Rose seemed to be cast as the anti-LeBron and benefited from the misconception that Chicago would be a 20-win team without him.
But now Dwight Howard has entered the equation. If you're voting for the MVP based on numbers alone, then Howard deserves the award. Since the trade, he's averaging 25 points, 15 rebounds, and 2 blocks a game. All while shooting 61 percent from the field. Even "video-game numbers" would be an inappropriate way to describe that beautiful stat line. Not to mention, Howard has a bigger impact on the defensive end than any other NBA player and is the sole reason Orlando has been a Top 5 defensive team for so long.
That's great, but isn't the MVP a reflection of his team's success to an extent? Orlando is no slouch, they're 38-22. However, here's something I've found interesting. In almost every Boston, Miami, or Chicago playoff article I've read, the writer has mentioned how important it is for BOS/MIA/CHI to secure the one seed, so they don't have to meet up with either BOS/MIA/CHI in the second round. As if Orlando would be an easy out in round 2. They're being completely overlooked and that has to count for something. The MVP is a regular season award, and the MVP should be on an elite team. Even after the trades, no one is buying that Orlando is an elite team.

Bulls win NBA Finals --> 20 Percent. This number is based off of my opinion that there are five legitimate title contenders: San Antonio, LA, Boston, Miami, and Chicago. I have no idea which team to pick. I think all five are equally capable of tearing through the playoffs, and being exploited. 20 percent is my way of saying the Bulls are one of five teams, and I don't think any team is the favorite.
The Bulls are 5-3 against these teams, with a losing record only against Boston (1-2). They have the size to match up with Boston and LA, the athleticism to hang with Miami, and the defensive prowess to contain San Antonio. It would help though, if they could win this upcoming game against Miami, and secure at least one road win against an elite team.
Bulls earn the 1 Seed --> 15 percent. If the Bulls were to procure the number one seed in the East, they'd need two things to happen:
1) Boston to lose in Chicago and Miami, in addition to blowing a few "gimme" road games. The Celtics have the fifth highest road winning percentage in the NBA.
2) Miami needs to continue their futility against good teams and lose at least half of their next ten games.
Here's the breakdown:

CELTICS 43-15
12 of 24 remaining games against playoff teams
13 Road Games
@Chicago, @Miami

HEAT 43-17
13 of 22 remaining games against playoff teams
9 Road Games
vs. Chicago, vs. Boston

BULLS 41-17
12 of 24 remaining games against playoff teams
13 Road Games
@Miami, vs. Boston

The Heat have the most intriguing race to the 1 seed. Their next ten games are against playoff teams. They have a combined 6-6 record against those teams, plus two meetings with San Antonio, who they haven't played yet. This ten game stretch will make or break their chances of grabbing the top seed. They play 8 of these 10 games at home. If the Heat can come away with 7 or 8 wins in that stretch, they should set themselves up nicely for a push towards the one seed.
The Celtics currently hold a one game advantage over Miami, and two games over Chicago. While they have Jeff Green and Nenad Krstic to incorporate into the system, the core of their team has been together for the last four years. They're a veteran team and, I hate this cliche but, know what it takes to win.
Here's something else the Boston Celtics know: the Chicago Bulls are the only Eastern Conference team that can beat them in a seven game series. I believe wholeheartedly that they're terrified of facing the Bulls in the playoffs. That will be motivation enough to focus on the top spot and hope the Heat can knock the Bulls off. If they have to play the Bulls in the EC Finals, they do so knowing they have home court advantage against a team with limited postseason experience that has played poorly on the road this year.
The Celtics know this is probably their last stand. No way I see them loosening the reins and letting the one seed slip away.
I'm still concerned about the Bulls' propensity to lose on the road and play down to inferior competition. The good news is that they finally have their full team healthy. Perhaps having everyone back will instill a focus in them. Regardless, the Bulls are the dark horse to grab the one seed, and whether they do or not, will likely have the most momentum heading into the playoffs.
A few months from now, we'll have the answers to all of these questions. I'm 100 percent sure of that.