In the end, the Miami Heat — so full of bluster, dance moves, promise and pyrotechnics last July — went out with not so much a whimper (because even that takes effort), but more of a shrug, in a 105–95 loss. And as their aged, largely silent fans shuffled to the parking lot, heading home to face an uncertain off-season of oppressive heat and 5:30 dinners, they were probably wondering: We paid so much money for this?

LeBron “Coma-Toast” James has another one of his textbook Finals games, largely invisible in its most crucial moments, content with setting up people named Mario Chalmers, Juwan Howard and Udonis Haslem to shoulder the burden that he is being paid to. After a first quarter in which he hit several key jumpers and began to look like his normal, dominant self, James retreated back into his shell, like a turtle at a honey badger convention. Had he not been wearing that white headband, cleverly coordinated with the T-shirts the fans were sporting, I would have had trouble picking him out of the crowd. He finished the game with 21–6–4, but averaged just over three points in the fourth quarters of the Finals’ six games. Not three shots, three points.

Uncharacteristically, Dwyane Wade was another underperforming mega-bazillionaire last night, regularly turning the ball over, and driving into untenable positions on the baseline and kicking it out, not to James, who was somewhere beyond the arc covering his eyes, but to… Eddie House? Still, his performance during the series will be remembered not for Game Six, but for the way it established that the Heat is his team and that he is one of the NBA’s three best players.

The only member of the Heat who could hold his head high was Chris Bosh, and not just because it appears to be five sizes smaller than his frame, but because he played with effort and zeal on both ends. It’s ironic that the guy who was seen as the “okay, you can come, too” in the deal, was the one that came to play. The fact that he was visibly sobbing as he headed into the locker room afterward was sad, and not in a pathetic way. At least he looked like he cared. Beyond that, he was the only member of the big three that didn’t appear overwhelmed at the end, when the players, each reluctant to shoot, were running a variation of the Princeton offense, minus the back cuts. What was clear was that no one, besides for Mario Chalmers, wanted to shoot the ball.

Even for someone as craven as me (and I mean that in the nicest sense), it was sad to see just how completely the Miami Heat capitulated to a visiting team, especially when their fans were expecting a multitude of NBA titles. And let’s face it: they aren’t getting any younger. (My apologies to the guy who keeps writing in, wondering why I make fun of the Heat fan base. My answer: Because I have eyes and they work.)

They had been beaten, at home, so thoroughly, that just before the half, when a guy on the Mavericks whose last name I had thought was Tahini, hit a wobbly elbowed mid-range jumper to take a 53–51 lead, I texted my friend and said, “Well, this one’s over.” You could just tell. Eventual Finals MVP Dirk Nowitzki had two points by then, on awful shooting, and his team was still winning. Jason Terry was positively heroic, scoring 27 points and beating defenders, including James, off the dribble. JJ Barea had 15, Shawn Marion had 12, and Jason Kidd and Deshawn Stevenson had 9 apiece. Brian Cardinal spelled Tyson Chandler for 12 minutes and had some pretty violent fouls and drew a charge, chipping in 3 points.

And even when the Heat and Mavericks were trading runs in the first half, it seemed like the fight had gone out of the Heat. It took six games, but Dallas managed to do something the rest of the league had been unable to: shut the Heat up.

During a postgame press conference, filled with inappropriate questions (sample: “Guys, and I don’t mean this with any disrespect at all, but did you two choke?”), LeBron James and Dwyane Wade were asked to make some sense of what had just transpired. Of the two, Wade was more thoughtful, talking about how well the Mavericks played and expressing confidence that his team would eventually get over the hump.

James, who seemed indifferent (“No, it doesn’t bother me that everyone roots against me. Not at all.”), actually suggested — and I’m paraphrasing here — that everyone who booed him was a loser with a crummy life and when they are done pointing out the obvious — that he, again, shrunk in the Finals — they will return to their awful, miserable existences, while he will still be a multimillionaire in South Beach. It was a brief glimpse into his world — a world that for the foreseeable future, thankfully, does not include any nifty dance moves or a parade. And the Heat did have a really cool parade planned, in case you were wondering.

Tony Gervino is a New York City-based editor and writer obsessed with honing his bio to make him sound quirky. He can also be found here.

Photo of Jason Terry celebrating in Miami last night via Terrence J.

Last Call For The Miami Heat was originally published in The Awl on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Leading up to last night’s game, the NBA Finals had gone as nearly everyone expected: the Miami Heat have played better than the Dallas Mavericks, and they have behaved worse. Game One was a textbook Heat win and exemplified why this match-up is so difficult for the Maverick defenders. LeBron James and Dwyane Wade performed their “I go, now you go” routine and Dirk Nowitzki’s “I go, now…hey you’re a really old and streaky shooter” was simply no match for them.

Game Two was a textbook “Why everyone hates the Heat” loss. Their boorish antics toward the end of the second game, preening and prancing about, throwing fake punches at each other, staring down the Mavericks bench while being up 15 points with 7 minutes left, was actually startling. I have seen a lot of classless acts by great teams — the Pistons refusal to shake the Bulls’ hands after Jordan finally beat them in ’91 comes easily to mind — but I have never seen players put their own egos before actually winning the game. The disrespect they showed the Mavericks was just what it appeared to be — a handful of pampered millionaires with a manufactured grudge trying to look hard.

It was a curious tack to take given the Dallas Mavericks had a more difficult road to these Finals than the Heat did. For the Heat to think they could toy with the Mavericks was the height of arrogance. And guess what? The Mavericks showed that they didn’t buy a ticket to the NBA Finals themselves, and clawed back, while everyone in the free world (other than Heats fans) rejoiced. Not just because the hero-takes-a-fall theme has been popular since Biblical times, or because those of us who like crappy basketball teams are bitter and jealous of the Heat’s wealth of talent. But because we like it when jerks get their comeuppance.

Afterward, James and Wade displayed a defensiveness that would’ve come in handy during the penultimate seven minutes of the game. Wade questioned whether his extended pose while standing virtually atop the Mavericks bench players could be construed as celebrating. Apparently, in his eyes, celebrating involves confetti and balloons. James did his textbook “you all” media excoriation. And Chris Bosh said that is defense on Nowitzki on the final possession cost his team “two points.” Erik Spoelstra, who coached the final stretch as if he had a softball lodged in his throat, was defiant, telling his team that they had been in that situation “many times before.” Whatever you say, Coach, but can you please stop dressing like a guest at a rom-com wedding?

Dallas was hyped up for Game Three, but never seemed to get in the groove and Miami did just enough to win. I figured that was it: the Heat, having survived the Mavericks’ emotional surge would make it a tidy five-game win. Maybe six. They looked more like a championship team and less like the cast of Honey during rehearsals.

And so as Game Four unfolded I expected the Mavs to try and keep it close, but lose. Even the Abe Lincoln tattoo on Deshawn Stevenson’s neck looked skeptical of his team’s chances. Yet who could have anticipated LeBron James scoring eight measly points on 3-of-11 shooting? If you follow any of Twitter’s NBA pontificators, they have been contorting themselves to give the Heat superstars some context, alternately comparing James then Wade to Michael Jordan. Even last night, they were smugly waiting for LeBron to “take this over” and Wade to “finish them, like Mike.”

Except Wade missed that free throw right at the end (like Mike never did) and LeBron scored 50% fewer points than Jason Terry. I said very early this season that maybe LeBron (who has now had three mediocre Finals games under his elastic waistband) is just a really good Scottie Pippen. Maybe.

And just like that, with the 86–83 win, the Mavericks have created a credible path to the title: win Game Five at home, and one of two in Miami, which is not exactly the greatest home court advantage in NBA history.

Earlier yesterday I would’ve thought the Heat wouldn’t be taxed again this series, and I would have to stop watching basketball for the next five months. But the Mavericks are resilient and gritty, and they’ve hung around long enough to make me believe in them. Even though they are older than Lou Rawls’ older brother, they are compelling to watch, have a great, measured coach and we may actually have the privilege of seeing Commissioner David Stern hand team owner Mark Cuban the Larry O’Brien Trophy, through gritted teeth.

If that happens, you’ll surely see some dancing and it won’t just be in front of the Heat bench. It will be all over America.

Tony Gervino is a New York City-based editor and writer obsessed with honing his bio to make him sound quirky. He can also be found here.

Photo by Keith Allison.

The Mavericks Hang In There was originally published in The Awl on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

In financial circles, the Miami Heat making the NBA Finals is what could be considered a solid return on investment. When the team was cobbled together, an appearance in the NBA Finals seemed like its destiny. Then we saw them play and there appeared to be a chance that they might not even make past the first round of the playoffs. We bought into the Celtics, the Magic, the Bulls. (And by ‘we’ I mean ‘me’ and maybe you, too.)

Yet the NBA Finals, which begin tonight with the Dallas Mavericks looking to pull a “not so fast” on the Miami Heat, feature as much a “team of destiny” angle as has ever existed in the NBA: the league’s one true villain on its final stage, trying to stick its finger in the eye of naysayers; LeBron James, that paper-mâché Jordan (as everyone other than Kobe truly is), lugging his infamous baggage along on the road to immortality. The original storyline, drawn up by pundits back in October, would have had James tangling with Bryant tonight. Having the Dallas Mavericks awaiting him is a wrinkle in the plot, to say the least, and a wildcard in every sense. I’ve search and I can’t find one “expert” who chose the Mavericks to make it this far.

But maybe that’s fitting. The Mavericks are a multi-generational patchwork quilt of NBA talents. Peja Stojakovic and Jason Kidd are both two teams past their trademark squads and two seasons beyond their expected utility. Jason Terry, who still plays with the same enthusiasm he did as a member of the Hawks years ago, has discovered the fountain of youth. Shawn Marion is another nomad, who has played on several different teams (including the Heat and one in Canada, even!). Unfortunately for Dallas, he can offer no useful scouting; the Heat roster has been thoroughly overhauled in the season since he left. I can remember Tyson Chandler being labeled a bust, and a player prone to making boneheaded mistakes in big moments (not that his Chicago Bulls teams had many of them), but he has shed that label going forward. Add in JJ Barea, a player with a knack for weaving his way through the defense and infuriating his opponents. They are too good to be considered “rag-tag,” but it this were a movie, there’d be a fat kid and a pretty freckled girl on owner Mark Cuban’s payroll, too.

Nothing more need be said about Dirk Nowitzki’s play beyond this: he should win the postseason MVP award. He has always been a prolific scorer, but I can’t remember him attacking the rim with such ferocity, and I certainly don’t recall him demanding the ball on every possession. In this stellar postseason run, he’s also proven to be a deft passer and, here’s the shocker, an emotional leader. Five postseasons ago, when the Mavericks coughed up a 2 games-to-0 in the NBA Finals versus Dwyane Wade’s Heat, he appeared downright timid. In sports radio parlance, he choked. But these days he appears to have a swagger to go along with his giant mouthpiece.

If I’m Heat coach Eric Spoelstra, however, I put LeBron James on Nowitzki and that would be that; because if you do not have the quickness to evade James (a la Derrick Rose, who was only slightly effective at it) then you will be effectively marginalized, if not completely shut down. James has been playing that well, and Dirk will be unable to shoot over him. He had better hope that a steady diet of pick and rolls will wear James out or put him into foul trouble. (Neither scenario is comforting.)

Then I would put Wade on Terry, Mario Chalmers and Mike Miller on Barea and Kidd, Bosh on Chandler (dragging him away from the paint when the Heat is on offense) and Udonis Haslem on Marion. After that, it becomes a matter of who else in the Mavericks can step up. (My guess is Marion attempts to rediscover his dominant scoring ways of two teams ago.) The Heat’s defense was fearsome against the Bulls. And much of the Mavericks’ late-game success against the Thunder amounted to them waiting for many Awl readers’ favorite son, “Me First” Russell Westbrook, to stymie his own team’s momentum.

On offense, the Heat can create all kinds of match-up nightmares for the Mavericks. Who is going to be able to check James? Or Wade? Unlike the Thunder series, they can’t focus on denying the Heat duo the ball; those two run the entire offense. They will spread the floor and they will get to the rim, virtually at will. If Mike Miller, who will park in the corner, behind the arc, is shooting well, this may be the series where the Mavericks’ age and lack of speed will catch up to them.

So I guess this is my way of saying that I think the Heat are going to beat the Mavericks in 5 or 6 games. I hope I’m wrong. I want the Mavericks to shoot the lights out and for Lil JJ to create opportunities for his teammates, and for the Heat to run out of gas. And for Dallas to flip the script and become the team of destiny. Just thinking about it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy.

And yet I have trouble envisioning the Heat losing, especially after they are so close to what I’m sure to them feels like redemption after all the abuse that’s been heaped on them. Except it’s not really redemption. It’s more like a dividend for that loyal fan out there who may not have stuck with them through thick and thin, but did buy a t-shirt two months ago and has a really cool Heat screen saver on his iPad. In other words, as I said earlier, you can look at it as nothing more than a solid return on investment.

Tony Gervino is a New York City-based editor and writer obsessed with honing his bio to make him sound quirky. He can also be found here.

Photo by Keith Allison from Flickr.

The Miami Heat Rewards Program For Valued Fans was originally published in The Awl on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

If it were anyone other than the Dallas Mavericks — a team whose past playoff flameouts are legendary — the Western Conference championship series would be over today.

The word “devastating” is the only apt one for Monday night’s developments: Oklahoma City, at home, blew a 15-point lead with 5 minutes left and now find themselves down three games to one, teetering on the brink of losing, again, in the Western Conference Finals. They were poised to knot the series at 2–2, on the verge of overcoming what appears to be a postseason-long hierarchical rift between maybe the best player in the game, Kevin Durant, and the NBA’s fourth-best point guard, Russell Westbrook. It is almost comical watching Durant stand idly by while Westbrook fritters away the 24 second clock before vainly trying to thread the needle to Nick Collison, who is a smart player and a rugged defender, but who couldn’t finish a sentence, much less a lay-up, with Tyson Chandler on his back. James Harden has been saving the team on many nights, but now even he seems frozen out of the offense.

Okie State head coach Scott Brooks attempted to wrest the team back from Westbrook by benching him during the fourth quarter of a Game 3 victory. It was a move so courageous his nickname should be Braveheart. And, it should be noted, it resulted in a victory. Hint hint.

But Dirk Nowitzki, man. He has been so tough. And Jason Terry has hit about 300 treys from the corner. (I refuse to acknowledge J.J. Runt’s existence. His play irritates me.) They were aided, however, by Westbrook, who was back to his old tricks in Game 4: lazily defending switches, practicing his highlight-reel driving forays (unsuccessfully, I might add) and generally keeping his own offense so off-balance, it’s hard to see them threading the needle now, and winning three straight games. Especially since two are in Dallas, a team whose crowd actually seems to out-white Okie State crew of white-haired seniors. And yet … two of the games are in Dallas and that team knows from epic collapses. Whether they have one left in them is the question.

Rarely does Reggie Miller make as much sense as he did in the closing minutes of last night’s game: the Chicago Bulls were gassed. Their starters had played too many minutes and, heading into overtime they looked like Oscar de la Hoya in the 6th round versus Manny Pacquiao. Like, “Really? Another one?”

Bulls head coach Tom Thibodeau admitted as much during a timeout when he exhorted them to “push through” their exhaustion. They couldn’t and didn’t. The team’s performance was miserable during the extra period — MVP Derrick Rose played as if he had a fork protruding from his head — and the players’ complete lack of energy gave LeBron James an opportunity to practice his funny faces and dance moves for when, if he has such an occasion in two weeks, he actually wins something significant, other than a high-school championship. His behavior, even while the game was still going on, was tasteless and crass and… the crowd loved it, at least when they managed to look up from their iPhones. Former NBA Finals MVP Kobe Bryant looks like a pillar of probity in comparison. (Let me know if I need to repeat that statement for emphasis.)

The Bulls looked so beaten after the final buzzer that, like the Thunder, it seems difficult to envision them winning three straight games. While two of those contests are at home, they are facing a team that won last night with Dwyane Wade hardly contributing. Unfortunately for Chicago, Wade, unlike LeBron, has actually won an NBA championship. And you get the feeling that he will shoulder the load in Game Six, leaving LeBron more time to scowl and taunt the crowd.

God help the Bulls.

Tony Gervino is a New York City-based editor and writer obsessed with honing his bio to make him sound quirky. He can also be found here.

Photo by Keith Allison.

Sit Down, Westbrook was originally published in The Awl on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Let’s gloss over the fact that I blew the last round. Everyone thought the Lakers would win easily and I merely went with the crowd. That’s the simplest explanation for how I misread that situation so thoroughly. Allow me to explain: I had the Celtics favored, sure, but I’d been worried all season that their trading of Kendrick Perkins would ultimately cost them against the Heat. (And it did.) The Thunder was my pre-season (trust me), mid-season, and pre-playoff pick to emerge from the Western Conference. The Memphis Grizzlies pushed them about as far as they could, but the Thunder rotation is eight deep. James Harden and Nick Collison were the mostly unsung heroes of the series. And Kendrick Perkins is moving on, while Danny Ainge’s team is sitting home, aging. (Don’t get me started.) We already know about the Lakers making me look foolish. But who could’ve know what was happening behind the scenes? (Besides Kobe’s wife Vanessa, of course.)

I also thought the Hawks would topple the Bulls, ignoring the fact that they play in Atlanta, the City of Runners-up. Playing against the favored Magic in the first round, they rewarded my faith. But the Bulls, playing far more physically than they did against the Pacers, persevered against Atlanta in a very competitive six-game series. Maybe the Pacers series was a wake-up call for the team with the NBA’s best record. It can’t have been fun getting pushed around by the likes of Jeff Foster, who I had figured was long retired and working in insurance.

In any case, the Conference Finals feature compelling storylines. In the Western Conference, the NBA brass has to choose between praying for an oddly coiffed, nudgy owner (Mark Cuban) in an American Girl-sized t-shirt and a city (Oklahoma City) whose skyline is less significant than Hogsmeade’s and whose entire fan base looks like the audience from “Jersey Boys.” And in the East, it’s the “Big Three” versus the “Big One” — easier to digest.

The Bulls — as was shown last night in a stirring 103–82 victory in Game One — will be a formidable opponent for the Miami Heat; the odds-makers may even favor the team. I know the majority of basketball fans will be in Chicago’s corner. I tweeted last week that rooting for the Heat was like rooting for CEO pay increases and that LeBron James was the Lloyd Blankfein of the NBA. Both true.

I’ll be rooting hard for the Bulls to overwhelm the Heat. Over the course of the season, they’ve been the far better team. Chicago should win the series and, I think they will win, convincingly so. The Heat is only three players deep — James, Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh — and the Bulls defense is all about challenging and swarming, wearing teams out in the fourth quarter. You need to have a bench to play against the Bulls, and the Heat has only the calcified remains of the 2004 season on theirs. The Heat has two superstars, a third guy with a very small head; equal parts talent and dickishness fuel the team as the players want to prove everyone wrong. But, at this point in the season, “us against the world” doesn’t get you there. And no one said they were bad players; just bad people. There’s a difference.

Still, it won’t be easy. Luol Deng needs to alleviate some of the scoring pressure that Derrick Rose feels, Carlos Boozer must be able to rebound and box defenders out, giving Joakim Noah the freedom to step out further from the paint and help challenge BronBron’s shots, and Kyle Korver has to effectively fill the John Paxson/Steve Kerr role by hitting 60% of his shots. Yet the Bulls, who have gotten better as the playoffs have gone on, are way too deep and too strong for Miami and the Heat’s dream of “three against the world” dies in Game Six, in front of their aged, disinterested fan base in their corny white t-shirts.

The Dallas Mavericks have shocked me and proved me wrong every step of the way this season, so I am hard-pressed to bet against them again. But… I am. On paper, they are the most experienced and well-rested team. Dirk Nowitzi isn’t one of the Top 10 players of all time, as his head coach Rick Carlisle mutton-headedly claimed last week; but he is tough to match up with, and he has finally learned how to make his teammates better. To that end, I’ve never seen Jason Kidd shoot more accurately, and the way recovered bruiser Shawn Marion has transformed himself into a relatively fleet-footed small forward is a testament to sublimating one’s ego. I’ve been taking shots at Jason Terry for as long as he has been playing, but he kept his emotions in check this postseason, especially versus Los Angeles, and his shooting stroke is as undeniable as that airplane thing he does after hitting treys is annoying. Peja Stojaković, who is old enough to remember the Lakers-Kings wars at this decade’s outset, is putting a fine cap on his career. And Tyson Chandler is emerging, finally. They look like champions.

And yet… for all the reasons I have already stated over the past few weeks, I believe that the Thunder will prevail. It’s their year. They have the size, speed and young legs to keep pressuring the Mavericks. They will emerge from another closely contested series, probably in seven games.

So there you have it: the NBA will be looking at an Oklahoma City-Chicago matchup for the Finals. Two exciting, young teams filled with likeable players to attract the interest of even the most cynical among us. And the outcome of that series? I haven’t the foggiest.

Tony Gervino is a New York City-based editor and writer obsessed with honing his bio to make him sound quirky. He can also be found here

Photo by Keith Allison.

Down To Four was originally published in The Awl on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

I should have known. Despite winning in six games, the Los Angeles Lakers pretty much mailed in the Hornets series. It was disquieting to see them struggle to contain Chris Paul, much less Trevor Ariza and Marco Belinilli. As I said last month, they looked so tired. Meanwhile, the Mavericks, when tested by the younger, more athletic Trail Blazers, responded forcefully, closing them out in six games as well. But I was fooled by the teams’ respective reputations: the Lakers as the-tough-get-going champions, the Mavericks as playoff underachievers. And so, to me, the path to the conference finals was clear for the Lakers. Pffft. What a joke.

To call it a sweep would be an understatement. It was more like a drubbing; a beat down; a prolonged humiliation. The Mavericks were incredible from pillar to post, and the Lakers behaved like the “Jersey Shore” cast, season three: stupid and lazy and obnoxious. Stories like this have begun appearing that make the team sound more like another Southern California icon, Fleetwood Mac. But… it would explain some things. The Lakers played selfishly on defense, refusing to help each other out, and nearly every player on the team gave a lackluster effort. Kobe tried to get his teammates involved, but they gave up on him after Game Two — when bundle of energy Ron Artest got bounced for a clothesline/smushface maneuver — and just went through the motions for the final two games.

Phil Jackson should be ashamed of his team and himself and, as I write this, he is busy nonchalantly heaping the entire blame on his players alone. It’s easy to say that the players play the game, and should therefore be responsible for what happens. Still, it was more than a lack of effort that left one Maverick sharpshooter open on every possession. There were many instances in which the Lakers appeared to have two players posting up on top of each other. I was so confused at the crippled triangle that I actually was hoping that guru Tex Winter was asleep during the game. Jackson is retiring and he should, although by September the rumors of him coaching the New York Knicks will begin to appear.

People are saying that team owner Dr. Jerry Buss should “blow up” the team. That’s far too dramatic. There are some other adjustments they could make. They need a point guard, first of all. A true point guard. And they need to stop treating Andrew Bynum as a future difference maker. He’s not even close to that. He’s large, but I would trade him and Lamar Odom to the Nets for Deron Williams and the Lopez twin so fast your head would spin. Two local boys (Odom from New York, Bynum from New Jersey) can help to take the team to Brooklyn. Sounds about right. Williams has yet to unpack anyway.

Derek Fisher, as I wondered last week, was in fact relying on muscle memory, not skill, and he has clearly reached the end of his road with the team. His terrible play during the entire series culminated in him nearly single-handedly throwing Game 3 away in its final moments.

There aren’t enough words to describe how lousy Pau Gasol was against the Mavericks. His hurt feelings aside, you need to show up in the playoffs. And while the players are getting lambasted for ending the game in a fit of unsportsmanlike behavior — Lamar Odom and Andrew Bynum getting bounced for hard fouls — I was less repulsed by their lack of sportsmanship. All series long, I was actually calling for someone to “squash” JJ Barea, so when Bynum clobbered him I thought, “Finally.” Not sure how he was permitted to conduct a dribbling clinic for four games, skipping through the lane with floaters, but had he been playing the Bad Boy-era Pistons or the ’95 Knicks, I would be speaking of him in the past tense this morning.

Heading into Saturday night’s Game Three, the Celtics-Heat was still a series, despite what you had read. All the Heat did in games one and two is hold home court. Then the Celtics came back on Saturday and put the smack down, literally, playing the kind of physical, relentless defense that is the mark of a championship club. The Heat play solid man-to-man defense, too, but they don’t possess the same nastiness. And half of their players are terrible.

When they saw Rajon Rondo return from a separated shoulder dislocated elbow — a near-miraculous development, in my eyes — the princes of South Beach wilted. Chris Bosh, the rugged power forward said as much: Game Four will be even more physical. If the Celtics prevail, then I still think it will be curtains for the Heat. If not… well, the Celtics clearly miss Kendrick Perkins, as we have discussed on numerous occasions.

In Memphis, the Grizzlies have shown a surprising resiliency, leading 2–1, thanks to Oklahoma City’s inexplicable shooting drought down the stretch of Game Three. The Thunder still has yet to play the quality of basketball that pushed the Lakers to the brink last year. I still expect that they will, but then again, I’m still waiting for the Blazers to beat the Mavericks. Nevertheless, I am still bullish on the Thunder’s chances, although I am less sure of the outcome that I was a week ago. The Grizzlies are tall, athletic, fearless and playing with house money, at this point. I keep waiting for someone to make Zach Randolph leave his feet, but I have a feeling that it will be a long wait.

I have three words for those who assumed the Chicago Bulls would be in the Eastern Conference Finals: ha ha ha. The Atlanta Hawks, who knotted the series at 2–2 last night, have rewarded my faith by outplaying the Bulls at every position other than, duh, point guard. Even though most people are still overlooking the Hawks, they would be advised not to. Derrick Rose can’t do it alone, the way that Jordan couldn’t do it alone. Not that anyone would compare Derrick Rose to Michael Jordan. Because that would be ludicrous. Right?

Tony Gervino is a New York City-based editor and writer obsessed with honing his bio to make him sound quirky. He can also be found here.

Photo by Keith Allison.

The Lake Show Closes was originally published in The Awl on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Picking huge upsets in a playoff series is a relatively cowardly enterprise that’s made to seem courageous by those calling them. “Going out on a limb” isn’t really any such thing, as two days after predictions are made, no one remembers them. Except if they were right. Then everyone knows about this stunning act of bravery.

Most of the time, I gravitate toward the moderate upsets, all of which I believe in my heart will happen. And my picks either pay off handsomely (Hawks over the Magic — told ya!) or do not (TrailBlazers over the Mavericks — oops).

I’ve spent a few hours looking at everyone’s prognostications, including the 412 people ESPN.com asked, and no one could’ve imagined that the Memphis Grizzlies, led by the twice cast-off Zach Randolph, a lesser Gasol (Marc), two of the NBA’s grittier players, Shane Battier and Tony Allen, could beat the San Antonio Spurs, the team with the NBA’s second-best regular-season record. And, to do so forcefully enough that it might actually send the current Spurs team spiraling toward dissolution. The Spurs looked old and tired. Tim Duncan seemed resigned to being bullied, and I was disappointed that the referees (who must not have gotten the pro forma “protect the superstars” memo) seemed inclined to let Grizzlies defenders pepper his back with forearm shivers. Even Tony Parker’s French smirk seemed forced.

I don’t think the Spurs made the mistake of looking beyond the Grizzlies, as some are contending; it seemed more like they got smacked in the face and shrank back, collectively figuring that it was not their year. It was like a reckoning, shockingly. With this next round, where bad blood only seems to be simmering in one match-up, the results should be more predictable: The Lakers rose to the occasion against the Hornets and should keep that going against the Mavs. Unlike the Spurs, the Lakers initially played a low-energy brand of hoops, but rallied under the peerless determination of Kobe Bryant, who is still such a dangerous offensive threat, even with a balky ankle. The Lakers, perhaps anticipating the same fate as the Spurs, added grit and hunger to their team last off-season with ugly winners (literally) Steve Blake and Matt Barnes to compensate for Derek Fisher, who now seems to be relying on muscle memory in big games. Chris Paul was amazing, and almost pulled it off, but one guy can only do so much.

The Mavericks resoundingly beat the Blazers, and so I must give them credit for that. Jason Kidd was rejuvenated, Dirk Nowitzki didn’t get rattled and the Blazers couldn’t put four strong quarters together. They were explosive, but the Mavs were able to withstand their runs. Unfortunately, Dallas will be coming up against a veteran team in the Lakers, whose ability to win big games and big series is unrivaled. I’m thinking six games, but I can see the Lakers putting them to bed in five.

I’m happy for Zach Randolph, I guess, but, as a Knicks fan, I don’t ever remember seeing the “blue collar player and blue collar worker,” as Randolph described himself after Friday night’s clinching game. He had an amazing series, a career series really, but I think his run ends against Oklahoma City, as the Thunder are everything the Spurs are not — young, athletic and hungry. They also have a stout interior defense with Serge Ibaka, Nazr Mohammed and Kendrick Perkins. Randolph won’t have as much freedom in the lane as he did against the Spurs. And he may actually have to leave his feet once or twice.

I don’t think that Memphis has an answer, defensively, for Kevin Durant, and Westbrook is reasserting himself at the right time. I’m sticking with my prediction that the Thunder will win it all. This series will be five games. The Grizzlies should be proud of themselves. And wait until next year.

Once upon a time, the Celtics were built to beat the Heat. Like, really beat the Heat. They had two experienced scorers (Paul Pierce, Ray Allen) that could compete with the Heat’s two scorers (LeBron James and Dwyane Wade), they had a range-y big man (Kevin Garnett) that could hold his own against the Heat’s range-y big man (Chris Bosh). And they had a true center in Kendrick Perkins — someone to provide interior defense, grab rebounds and maybe even score a little. Someone young with energy.

And someone the team traded away.

GM Danny Ainge can cite all kinds of reasons for his shocking decision — free agent Perkins was probably leaving after the season anyway — but no one considers the Celtics the “team of the future.” Other than the Mavs or Spurs, they are built to win today, right now, this year. Their window is closing. My fear is that, with the trade, the team has shut it on themselves. But the Celtics may still have enough to get past the Heat, who I saw struggle more against the high-energy Sixers than the series’ tally indicates. They may actually have the worst bench in the playoffs. I see this as a six- or seven-game series and I see the Celtics prevailing. But if the Heat win — and Game One was a good start, although the referee that ejected Paul Pierce should be benched for the series — the fault is all Ainge’s.

Okay, so, I’m going out on a limb here and picking an upset: The Atlanta Hawks will beat the Chicago Bulls. Since floating this idea to a few friends, their reactions were the same: Wanna bet? No, literally, they wanted to see if I would stand behind my choice. I would, but I hate taking people’s money.

I misjudged the Bulls last round, thinking they were going to steamroll the woefully less-talented Pacers. But what happened was that the Pacers played ferociously, the Bulls seemed content to sacrifice intensity, and Indiana came within a few bounces from pulling off a Grizzlies-style upset. Not sure what Carlos Boozer thinks he is accomplishing, but he needs to play defense, rebound and provide a physical presence. If a scrub opponent like Jeff Foster delivers flagrant fouls to your team’s stars (as he did to both Luol Deng and Derrick Rose), you need to respond in kind. Tattoos and growling don’t equal toughness, especially with those fussy, groomed eyebrows.

Derrick Rose is extraordinary, and bailed his team out against the Pacers. He again will be the best player in this series. And I like Deng and Kyle Korver, too. But the Atlanta Hawks are a more balanced team and have more experience on this stage. Al Horford, Joe Johnson and Josh Smith will get the job done (and that’s even if Kirk Hinrich is severely limited). I see a team that is peaking at the exact right time and the Hawks will win the series in six games.

Courageous of me, I know.

Tony Gervino is a New York City-based editor and writer obsessed with honing his bio to make him sound quirky. He can also be found here.

Photo by Keith Allison, from Flickr.

Another Round, Another Upset was originally published in The Awl on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

That headline says it all, really. The teams whose core players are nearing 30, or have passed it, certainly looked aged last weekend. The Lakers lost, as did the Spurs, while the Celtics, Mavericks and Heat escaped by the skin of their teeth in about as exciting a first round of playoffs as I can remember.

Rarely is the end for basketball players both extreme and definitive; instead, often a gradual deterioration takes place. Players will start getting beaten off the dribble or having their shots blocked — signs that don’t immediately show up in the traditional stats line. But a decline in skills becomes more noticeable when the playoffs arrive and there’s no more scrub teams left to feast upon. Locked in a struggle with younger, fresher, hungrier opponents, older players will look — well, old. Every year there is one such match-up. Last weekend, by my reckoning, there were five. Either that, or it was just a really super-crappy weekend for favorites.

Both may be true. Had the Bulls been playing anyone other than the Indiana Pacers, the 2011 NBA Playoffs’ weakest team, they would’ve lost Game 1. I’ve never seen a player like Derrick Rose. He sleepwalked through much of the second half and yet still scored 39, with 19 points from the line. They were down by ten with three minutes-plus left, and while still maintaining that bored expression, he knifed through the Pacers defense again and again. In Game 2, there was more of the same, although Rose had an off-shooting night. For him.

If Carmelo Anthony hadn’t gone ice-cold at the wrong time and his team all rec-league in the last 45 seconds of the game — a recurring theme for the Knicks’ playoff teams — the Celtics would’ve dug themselves into a hole on Sunday night. Their defense was dogged, but their offense was mediocre. What can you say about Jermaine O’Neal? Nothing, except that he had 12 points and 5 blocks, and probably saved the Celtics season. Out west, the Mavericks, who came a hair from fulfilling the destiny that I laid out for them last week, were one truly otherworldly shooting performance from Jason Kidd (the likes of which I have never seen before from him) away from losing to Portland. And making Mark Cuban cry. It would’ve been so perfect.

The Spurs lost to the Grizzlies after a last-second shot from an unlikely source: Shane Battier. It was a great shot, but had Richard Jefferson hit a wide-open trey at the buzzer to send the game to OT we probably wouldn’t even be having this conversation. So I’m not really worried about the team with the Western Conference’s best record. The Spurs were missing their second-best player in Manu Ginobili, who will return for Game Two on Wednesday. And I don’t know if the Grizz can count on that kind of performance from Zach Randolph for the next six games.

The Hawks did to the Magic what I thought they would (just like I told you — once out of eight games) and beat Orlando, in spite of 2,000 points and 1,500 rebounds from Dwight Howard (okay, 46 and 19). I see Orlando winning the next one at home and then losing in Atlanta. And although I think the Nuggets played ably in Oklahoma City, the game still felt like the Thunder are the better team, preserving their energy. The Thunder have two of the better players in the NBA and I still don’t see the Nuggets having any answer for them, no matter how close Game One was.

Shockingly, the two teams that should be the most concerned are the sluggish Lakers, who Hornets point guard Chris Paul tormented so thoroughly, and the thin Heat, against whom a clear roadmap to victory has emerged — have more than the two good players and run them until they need to rest their starters. Both will still win their first-round matchups (the Heat convincingly clobbered the Sixers last night) but I could envision both of them losing in the second round. If either of them lose, it’s a disaster for the league. If both go down, the NBA headquarters will fly their flag at half-mast, for the next decade.

I’m being completely serious.

Tony Gervino is a New York City-based editor and writer obsessed with honing his bio to make him sound quirky. He can also be found here.

Photo by Keith Allison.

In The Playoffs, Old Teams Look Old was originally published in The Awl on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

The first round of the NBA playoffs is upon us — thankfully, I don’t mean that literally — and I, for one, am excited. Not only because I will get to hear “Won’t Back Down” by Tom Petty alongside footage of Kevin Garnett staring and sweating (pretty much the content of every NBA promo during the past five years), but also a really good team is going to lose their first round match-up to someone not as good, and an ESPN anchor of indiscriminate race will dutifully report how it is a “shocker” and how it “changes things” — even though, you know, we aren’t morons.

If I had to choose a team least likely to flame out in the playoff’s first-round, it would probably be the Chicago Bulls, who will have so little trouble with the Indiana Pacers that Derrick Rose will have to write “game v. Pacers” on his hand, so he doesn’t forget that he has somewhere to be. And the team most likely to be upset in the first round will be the Dallas Mavericks, by the Portland Trailblazers, which I’ll explain later. Hopefully.

In the Eastern Conference, only two of the four match-ups appear to be competitive. In addition to the Bulls, who have been making a clicking sound since before the All-Star break, the Miami Heat have lost just enough games to draw a great matchup for them — the Philadelphia Sixers who have no answer for LeBron James or Dwyane Wade. Both of those series will be uneventful and filled with “a 17-point lead at the half!” proclamations from the poor announcers, trying to make blowouts sound even remotely exciting. Perhaps I’m in the minority, but I’ve seen both James and Wade play scintillating playoff basketball, and the Sixers second-best player, is playing with a broken hand. Andre Igoudala is pretty fantastic, but Jrue Holiday has proven nothing in all of his many, many NBA playoff games. I hope the Heat lose (I really do), but I think there’s a better chance of the Sixers mascot, Hip-Hop, tearing off his mask to reveal Allen Iverson than the Sixers winning this series. No offense, Sixers.

The other two games are harder to predict. I naturally assumed that the Orlando Magic would finish as one of the top three seeds. My bad. I say that because, other than the Bulls, they probably field the deepest team in the Eastern Conference, although the coalescing I had assumed would’ve happened by now just hasn’t. I’m still waiting to see Gilbert Arenas to wake up, but I have to acknowledge that may never happen.

The problem is that no one will give the Hawks a chance, despite the fact that they took the season series three games to one, and they match-up rather well with the Magic. If Joe Johnson has learned from last year’s unfocused meltdown — no one ever remembers your regular season success, unless they’re writing about you choking — Al Horford can occupy Howard’s attention long enough for the Hawks’ complementary pieces (Smith, Crawford, Williams and Horford) to outshoot and out-rebound their counterparts on the major (Richardson, Turkoglu and Redick). And I can see the Hawks stealing this series. There I said it. I may have hedgingly chosen an Atlanta team to win a sporting event. At any moment, lightning may strike me down.

Where to begin with the Knicks-Celtics? Well, I can tell you what I think and what I believe — and they are two different things. I think the Knicks can make a series of this. And that the Celtics cannot defend Carmelo Anthony and, defensively, Chauncey Billups can impede, if not limit, Rajon Rondo. And the Knicks lack of an interior presence isn’t a shortcoming against a team that traded its own interior presence away a few months ago. And that the Celtics are old and fading and the Knicks are peaking. And here’s what I believe: the Celtics have been there, they are unbelievably well-coached, they get every call, run a disciplined half-court offense that in Paul Pierce has a small forward who is a near-equal offensively to Carmelo. And I believe that Kevin Garnett plays with an intensity that is unmatched on the Knicks. If the Celtics come out firing, it will be a 5-game series. Tragically.

The Western Conference playoffs will probably have two close series. Although I have been underwhelmed by the Spurs’ bloodless efficiency all season, there’s only a 20% chance that they lose to the Memphis Grizzlies, the team that the blogosphere has anointed this season’s Cinderella. I like Zach Randolph but he will have his hands full with Tim Duncan. The rest of the Spurs are too experienced: Tony Parker will run circles (literally) around Mike Conley. Besides, the Spurs are too focused already on what’s next to even contemplate losing this series. I just read on one of those blogs that the Spurs will regret taking Grizzlies, with whom they split the season series, lightly, and I almost spit my coffee. This one is over now, three days before it begins.

The smart money is obviously on the Los Angeles Lakers to step all over the New Orleans Hornets, and at this point, I would probably go with that prediction, especially since David West is out. If Andrew Bynum is more banged up than they are saying, and Kobe continues to look like a guy suffering from sleep apnea and overuse — his tantrum-into-a-gay-slur performance the other night was a sure sign that he needs some time off — and the Hornets can force the tempo, this could be a hairy series for the Lakers. Chris Paul will have big games, as he seems to grow in the spotlight, but I have a feeling that, afterward, the storyline will be that Chris Paul looked around his locker room filled with castoffs from other teams (no offense, Trevor Ariza) and realize that, to win in the new NBA, he needs to play with one or two more superstars. Like, you know, the Knicks.

Personally, I think the Oklahoma City Thundersticks and Denver Nuggets series will be entertaining, but then again, I thought “Wrestlemania 27” was entertaining. Will the games be high scoring? Yes. Will the Nuggets win more than two of them? I can’t see that happening. People speak of the Knicks cast-offs as if they are a group of seasoned playoff performers. Not so much. They are, to a man (except Mozgov) good complementary players, but none can elevate enough to give Oklahoma City trouble, especially since that team was gifted the Celtics interior presence, Kendrick Perkins, earlier this season.

Matter of fact, if I had to choose a team to come out of the Western Conference, it would be Oklahoma City, with Kevin Durant, Russell Westbrook, that guy with the funny beard whose name escapes me and the center who should be leading the Celtics to the Eastern Conference title. Take that, everybody even remotely involved in basketball punditry.

Last, but certainly not least, the Portland Trailblazers will topple the No. 2 3 seed, Dallas Mavericks. They will steal game one in Dallas, and the Mavs, who are the Michael Jordan of playoff underachievers, will never recover. I could be wrong, but I see it going this way. And then Mark Cuban will scratch his head, grab his Wiffle ball bat and head back to his mansion filled, presumably, with Ed Hardy-designed Mavericks t-shirts and mom jeans, contemplating what a guy has to do to buy a team in an actual professional sports town. No offense, Cowboys.

Tony Gervino is a New York City-based editor and writer obsessed with honing his bio to make him sound quirky. He can also be found here.

Photo by Keith Allison.

Playoffs? PLAYOFFS? Playoffs. was originally published in The Awl on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

On Monday evening, I watched the National Championship game at Old Town tavern, which was a relatively brainless (but in no way shocking) decision, as the mounted TV’s 25-inch screen appears to be coated with a viscous substance that I will assume, for all intents and purposes, is hurled biscuit gravy. And by hurled, I mean thrown. Of course. I was meeting a friend and neither of us are exactly rocket scientists, or even scientists or any kind, so we decided, “Hey let’s watch the game on the worst TV left in America.”

In the midst of watching the UConn Man-Huskies (probably the lousiest National Champion I have ever witnessed) perform an alien autopsy on the Butler Bulldogs (about as well coached a basketball team as I have ever seen crap the bed) we began speaking about the 2011 Basketball Hall of Fame inductees announced earlier that day. I casually mentioned that, without Reggie Miller, I thought it was a very weak class, save for my man Arvydas Sabonis, the Lithuanian strongman, who was an incredible player in his day — sometime around the 16th century. Sabonis was, without question, the best passing center to ever play the game. He is what Tex Winters (creator of the triangle offense and fellow inductee) dreamt about when he came up with his simple-complicated plan of having big-galoot-as-rock-distributor.

There were a couple of others that I won’t pretend to know or care anything about. And also, wickedly sideburned Artis Gilmore, another big galoot (albeit one that couldn’t really pass) and a guy who was on the Globetrotters from a time when the team could actually play full games without taking time off to clown rich white kids courtside with pails of confetti. But the committee proclaimed them all to be fit to be feted, even the ladies, and so I’ll take their word on that.

Or will I?

For starters, I had my doubts about Chris Mullin’s inclusion. When I said that, I thought that my friend’s exaggerated double take would actually paralyze him. I loved watching Mullin at St. John’s, but I can’t ever remember him being the best player on his NBA team, the Golden State Warriors, despite having five insane years, averaging 25 and 5. (Mitch Richmond was always a little better.) And I could name 20 guys that scored as many or more career points that are not Hall of Famers, who could take him. (Here are three right off the bat: Bernard King, Spencer Haywood and Sidney Moncrief. Trust me, I have 17 more all ready to go.)

But when I got home and looked up Mullin’s career stats — because that’s when I do my best research: hours after I make a blanket statement in a bar — I realized that he deserved to be included because of the totality of his career: high school, college, the NBA and international. He’s still borderline in my eyes, but now he’s on the good side of that border.

But I’m firm on Dennis Rodman, whose inclusion is the real wellspring of my ire. His presence in the Hall of Fame rewards one-dimensional players for winning championships in a team sport. He was a two-time Defensive Player of the Year (’90 and ’91) but he was only named to the NBA All-Star team twice as well (’90 and ’92.) He may have five championship rings, but the Pistons, Bulls and Spurs were great, deep squads.

In some games, Rodman scored zero points, and in none of them, was he an offensive force. He may have averaged 13.1 rebounds per game over his career, but he only scored 7.3 points a game. In the playoffs, his number shrunk to 9.9 and 6.4. Putting an incomplete player like him in the Hall is like crowning a headless woman Miss America.

I’m not dismissing defense. While Rodman was named NBA’s All-Defensive First Team seven times in his career, I don’t hold that feat in the same regard as Michael Jordan’s nine times, or Kobe’s eight. Why not? Because those players added defense to the existing burden of scoring, and setting other players up. Running an offense. Playing on both ends of the court. Rodman never had to worry about anything other than not losing his head, rebounding and fronting on defense. Sure he was great at it, but he never elevated his game to be anything more than what he was: the third or fourth best player on any team on which he played.

But it’s too late now, I realize: once again, no one asked me and now a staggeringly one-dimensional player is in the Basketball Hall of Fame. And I’m sure that in his eyes, everything from here on in is gravy.

Tony Gervino is a New York City-based editor and writer obsessed with honing his bio to make him sound quirky. He can also be found here.

Photo by Eric Molina via Flickr.

Some Measured Thoughts On This Year’s NBA Hall Of Fame Class was originally published in The Awl on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.