badfish22
06-12-2010, 06:09 PM
http://nba.fanhouse.com/2010/06/02/up-where-they-belong-some-very-special-2010-playoff-teams/
After over a month, and more games than we care to count, it all comes down to this. One series, two teams, and the right to be called the world champions -- even if that title is somewhat misleading. They leave a path of carnage, failure, and dismay in their wake, and slightly over a week, either the Lakers or Celtics will join this jumble of infamy. In fact, those who finish second are, in a sense, the biggest losers out there. Who gets so close and then falls short?
So it stinks to lose in the Finals, and everyone else is forgotten even sooner. With this dissatisfaction lurking -- that for all our troubles, we want a little more to remember and rejoice in -- Tom Ziller and I have put together a few highly-specialized teams for the 2010 postseason. Some are self-explanatory, others, err on the side of having a good time.
Mostly, we hope that they succeed in preserving some of what (little) made these playoffs memorable. They will preserve all these games as more than a teleological rush toward the Finals, or a chopping block onto which we lower those incapable of carrying their teams. This is basketball with feathers. This is our 2010 playoffs.
They Whom the Basketball Gods Smiles Upon
PG: Rajon Rondo
SG: Ray Allen
SF: Grant Hill
PF: Joakim Noah
C: Andrew Bynum
The Basketball Gods appreciate not just exemplary work ethic and grit, but artistic courage and spectacle amid grayscale. Tireless gruntwork figures heavily in pleasing the Gods -- there's a reason "sacrifice" is such a key part of both religion and sport -- but testing the bounds of the mundane world also draws respect from on high.
As such, Rajon Rondo, who single-handedly turned Mo Williams into a punchline and His Holiness LeBron James into a loser, is the captain of the God Squad. Mixing pungent physicality with swiftness and an inclination to embarrass foes, Rondo became the league's "it" player before a back injury relegated the Celtic to the mortal realm. Teammate Ray Allen comes from a different angle. Having sliced through the East looking like Jesus Shuttlesworth, Allen reminds us that only regiment and dedication can lead to fireworks (something Anthony Randolph ought to learn).
Grant Hill, another graybeard, didn't resuscitate earlier triumphs, but continued to rewrite his legacy as Ron Harper II. Joakim Noah's ebullience and talent made him a legitimate star in these playoffs (you heard Obama drop his name!), and Andrew Bynum looked surgery in the eye and spat on it. If Brandon Roy is an hombre for going under the knife and coming back quickly, what's that make Bynum, the Marlboro man? (TZ)
They Who Defile the Basketball Gods
PG: George Hill
SG: Rudy Fernandez
SF: Jeff Green
PF: Rashard Lewis
C: Shaquille O'Neal
The flipside of the All-Basketball Gods team is the Anti-Basketball Gods team. Did these players desecrate basketball, or did the Basketball Gods deal these players rotten hands? You be the judge. All I know is that the Gods don't take kindly to self-important players passing up massive opportunities. It's impossible to argue Blazers guard Rudy Fernandez had a fine chance to elevate himself and his team in the wake of Roy's knee surgery. But Fernandez loafed through much of his series against the Suns, and went from cult hero to political liability in Oregon. Jeff Green didn't loaf, but he betrayed the faith of countless advocates by blowing jumper after jumper (and rebound after rebound) against the Lakers.
Shaquille O'Neal's larger-than-life personality led to sloganeering when Diesel decreed that he planned to "win a ring for the King"; the Gods reminded Shaq who actually makes those decision. Few know that every NBA contract passes through league offices in Secaucus, but also past the desk of the Solicitor-General of the Basketball Gods. Said official is known to add clauses to notable deals; it was decreed that Rashard Lewis "must not make Otis Smith look foolish" upon the approval of Shard's $100 million contract. Whoops.
As for George Hill, who throttled the Mavericks a couple times but wilted quicker than a peony on Mercury against Phoenix, consider the Gods' message a warning to other would-be hierarchical usurpers: stay in line behind the champ, kid. In other words, Hill will be ready to knock Tony Parker out of the Spurs' blueprint when the Gods decide, not when Hill decides. (TZ)
Team for NBA Hipsters
PG: Brandon Jennings
SG: Rodrigue Beaubois
SF: Nicolas Batum
PF: J.J. Hickson
C: Serge Ibaka
These playoffs offered little in the way of true star turns. That's actually good news for basketball hipsters, those who live to say "whatever, I saw this coming in 2010." Brandon Jennings, the cult favorite who can shoot well enough to make the mainstream, alternated between 30-point gems with absentee stinkers. He was the Leader of the Bucks, even as his play evinced damage and an uncertain future. Whatever, parents just don't understand. Rodrigue Beaubois burned bright for one glorious Game 6 -- a loss, at that. But he had even his team's owner chanting "Free Roddy B," the true mark of an underground sensation, and made Rick Carlisle look totally square for not understanding his genius.
Against the Suns, long-limbed specialist Nicolas Batum -- just call him "Nic" -- showed that he could generate offense with a French flair that offered a viable alternative to Tony Parker. Ever since Boris Diaw burnt out, we've been waiting for this. If Thunder teammate Russell Westbrook earned legitimacy, Serge Ibaka generated buzz and expectations that will carry over into next season. As Kelly Dwyer put it, "he's your favorite player. You just might not know that yet." J.J. Hickson might have been what the Cavs needed against Boston, but more importantly, he'll be waiting in the wings once Ibaka gets played out. (BS)
All-Lost Team
PG: Jeff Teague
SG: Leandro Barbosa
SF: C.J. Miles
PF: Tyrus Thomas
C: Kyrylo Fesenko
I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I think it goes something like this: Leandro Barbosa fell in a giant hole several years ago because he ran so fast he entered another dimension, and only emerged this spring to contribute meaningfully to Phoenix. The only problem was that, while he looked the same on television, in the flesh he looked like Marcus Banks. To everyone else, Goran Dragic looked like Barbosa, and when they joined forces, dimensions collided. Wait, let's backtrack: Jeff Teague, tired of languishing on the bench, sought the advice of scientists who told him in backward-speak that C.J. Miles was neither a starter nor a bench player for Utah, and that Fesenko would provide him with further clues in broken English marked by what may or may not have been a sense of humor.
On the way out, Teague tripped a switch that made the playoffs terrible in this life, but when we're all reincarnated as pine trees and are unable to see, they will be great. Right about now, Tyrus Thomas is waking up on the floor of his condo in Charlotte and realizing that, while Charlotte shares several letters in common with Chicago, the two are very different places and even more different teams. So he entered a state of suspended animation, which is weird because he was already in one, but then it turns out that J.R. had actually never been shot, but that him never being shot was a dream. Then J.R. Rider handed out free water ice. Print "Kevin Garnett is the Smoke Monster" tees with my blessings. (BS)
Sword of Righteousness, Inc.
PG: Deron Williams
SG: Dwyane Wade
SF: Kobe Bryant
PF: Kevin Durant
C: Dirk Nowitzki
In the movie 12 Angry Men, twelve men get extremely angry because they have to decide whether to send a young person to his death. During the NBA playoffs, one very frequent cause of anger is disappointment with one's teammates, or even one's self. It is not an environment for the weak of heart, or those low on self-regard. Then there are those who just play angry. Deron Williams has spent his career proving he's the equal of Chris Paul; this year, everyone called him better than Paul, and that only made him snort louder. Kevin Durant has such a strong aversion to loss, he gets indignant when he's anywhere near it -- the more he's winning, the angrier he gets at loss coming into focus. Wade and Dirk both found themselves alone on the field of battle and went out in a hail of made baskets.
Then there's the chief. Kobe Bryant is about to enter his seventh NBA Finals, and while you may hear him praised for refining his game with age, the truth is, he's just found new ways to get mad and stay that way. That stuff he does with his jaw looks like he's either trying to wrench his TMJ to a premature end, or gnaw apart any enemy in site. When he gets around this bunch, though, Kobe is all smiles and butterflies. With their wings ripped off. (BS)
Five Men and a Playground
PG: Steve Nash
SG: J.R. Smith
SF: LeBron James
PF: Josh Smith
C: Lamar Odom
The playoffs are a time for serious basketball that decides how men will be remembered once they die. That said, they also go on forever, and lend themselves to idle thought experiments. Here's one: If you were back on the court in your favorite hood, or playing NBA Street for the first time, what five guys would you pick to really set the night on fire? Actually, during that immortal clash of body and spirit that was Hawks-Bucks, Hubie brought this up to illustrate the peculiar dynamic of that series. Hubie may have struck cliche gold, but I want to take it in another direction: the ultimate unit for wide-open loose-ruled playground ball.
Steve Nash at PG is a no-brainer. J.R. Smith bowed out of the playoffs early, but his intergalactic threes and crazed dunks make him a welcome addition. For once, he belongs, and Nash might even keep him in line. Josh Smith, well, that one's self-explanatory. LeBron and Odom gives you two other ball-handlers and trick-passers -- not to mention James' ability to fire away like Smith and finish like, well, other Smith. There's no real center, not even a post player, but that's the price you pay for infinity. The NBA can argue about whether this is next level or utter chaos, but out here on the streets, it's just a recipe for back-breaking funk and illest halfcourt sets you've ever seen. (BS)
Five Men in a Foxhole
PG: Derek Fisher
SG: Manu Ginobili
SF: Jared Dudley
PF: Paul Millsap
C: Kendrick Perkins
Are we done with the swing set and hobby horses now? Basketball is war. While Shoals' playground team is busy eating tater tots and playing pattycake, the five guys on Team Foxhole (coached by Mark Schlereth) show the meaning of the word "sacrifice." No one takes more vicious screens than Derek Fisher, the Lakers' graybeard. Manu Ginobili went two series with a broken nose, continuing to careen through lanes with no fear. Jared Dudley is a socially aware Ron Artest (I'll let you decide what that means), and Paul Millsap has all the brawn a playoff team needs. (His talent won't send Carlos Boozer out of town -- his steel exoskeleton will. Karl Malone taught the great people of Utah playoff teams need mettle.) Kendrick Perkins' scowl once made Snap, Crackle and Pop shut up. (TZ)
All-Dad Team
PG: Andre Miller
SG: Joe Johnson
SF: Stephen Jackson
PF: Taj Gibson
C: Nick Collison
Going on census data alone, your dad is likely to prefer golf, golfing, or baseball to the NBA. Still, the playoffs always feature some players who really speak to everyone's inner dad. Andre Miller's early triumphs against the Suns and that hotshot Steve Nash were like his Rockport beating your Nikes in a shoe fight, which is something families do when they get together and quickly run out of things to talk about. Joe Johnson took his sweet time dispatching with the Bucks and then dissipated against Orlando. That's not important. He's a good kid who doesn't need the acclaim. Reminds me of someone who went to Purdue in the 1700's.
Stephen Jackson has gone from juvenile delinquent to a rickety approximation of den leader for Larry Brown's Bobcats. Brown and Michael Jordan are busy drawing pictures of golf clubs, so it's left to Jackson to set an example. No one's perfect, not even your father. That's part of growing up and becoming a dad yourself. Raising children is hard! (note: All-Dad is distinct from "All-Grown", which does not exist, but if it did, would denote those players who have crossed that threshold where you and your friends start becoming parents. See the All-Baby Team below.).
Taj Gibson is the Good Son incarnate, unassuming, loyal, and rewarded for his his work. Nick Collison never met a lawn he wouldn't mow -- that's his style of play in a nutshell, and from what my sources tell me, also his approach to livin' life to the fullest. The clincher: You know everyone on this list would appreciate a good Lazy Boy. (BS)
Through the Eyes of a Child
PG: Jameer "Crib Midget" Nelson
SG: Sasha Vujacic
SF: Luol Deng
PF: Glen "Big Baby" Davis
C: Tyson Chandler
Babies aren't as easy to please as you'd think. A set of car keys or a healthy serving of puréed squash can only go so far. Infants need constant and diverse stimulation. Luckily, the playoffs had everything a baby could want. I dare you to say "Sasha Vujacic" to an infant and try to escape without a giggle. "Luol DANG!" is targeted more to the toddler set, but still ultra-effective. The esteemed Tim Povtak alerted us to Jameer Nelson's secret nickname "Crib Midget," a moniker since given to untold numbers of children whose parents are NBA fanatics. Likewise, youngsters love their own, which grants Big Baby star status among kid-kind.
Tyson Chandler is a tricky one -- he's a full-grown man without an endearingly "cute" nickname. He's no babyface -- he has a impeccably trimmed beard, after all. But he just seems so darn likable. And babies have that karmic Spidey sense; they can distinguish between benevolent and dangerous dogs, and the creepy uncle always gets the spit-up. Chandler gets nothing but smiles, and that earns him a berth on Team Baby, even if he only stuck around for four games. (TZ)
Team Edward
PG: Tony Parker
SG: Marquis Daniels
SF: Caron Butler
PF: Ersan Ilyasova
C: Kevin Garnett
Team Jacob
PG: Mo Williams
SG: Ron Artest
SF: Gerald Wallace
PF: Pau Gasol
C: Robin Lopez
Because sometimes, no man is safe. You've got to take a side or risk being beaten to death next time you venture to your local shopping mall. Here's hoping you -- and these players -- end up on the right side at the right time. You can take your pick; these guys, pretty much stuck there by destiny and dark burdens that few fans will ever know about. Just saying, bring garlic to Ilyasova's pool party, and pack a piece full of silver if Robin Lopez invites you to go shopping for Xtreme Pogo Balls.
Oh, and dear NBA, you messed up big-time by not doing a Twilight: Eclipse tie-in. Or were they holding out for the NFL preseason? Whatever. They walk, run and jump among you. Those spots would have written themselves, even more so than Avatar. (BS)
After over a month, and more games than we care to count, it all comes down to this. One series, two teams, and the right to be called the world champions -- even if that title is somewhat misleading. They leave a path of carnage, failure, and dismay in their wake, and slightly over a week, either the Lakers or Celtics will join this jumble of infamy. In fact, those who finish second are, in a sense, the biggest losers out there. Who gets so close and then falls short?
So it stinks to lose in the Finals, and everyone else is forgotten even sooner. With this dissatisfaction lurking -- that for all our troubles, we want a little more to remember and rejoice in -- Tom Ziller and I have put together a few highly-specialized teams for the 2010 postseason. Some are self-explanatory, others, err on the side of having a good time.
Mostly, we hope that they succeed in preserving some of what (little) made these playoffs memorable. They will preserve all these games as more than a teleological rush toward the Finals, or a chopping block onto which we lower those incapable of carrying their teams. This is basketball with feathers. This is our 2010 playoffs.
They Whom the Basketball Gods Smiles Upon
PG: Rajon Rondo
SG: Ray Allen
SF: Grant Hill
PF: Joakim Noah
C: Andrew Bynum
The Basketball Gods appreciate not just exemplary work ethic and grit, but artistic courage and spectacle amid grayscale. Tireless gruntwork figures heavily in pleasing the Gods -- there's a reason "sacrifice" is such a key part of both religion and sport -- but testing the bounds of the mundane world also draws respect from on high.
As such, Rajon Rondo, who single-handedly turned Mo Williams into a punchline and His Holiness LeBron James into a loser, is the captain of the God Squad. Mixing pungent physicality with swiftness and an inclination to embarrass foes, Rondo became the league's "it" player before a back injury relegated the Celtic to the mortal realm. Teammate Ray Allen comes from a different angle. Having sliced through the East looking like Jesus Shuttlesworth, Allen reminds us that only regiment and dedication can lead to fireworks (something Anthony Randolph ought to learn).
Grant Hill, another graybeard, didn't resuscitate earlier triumphs, but continued to rewrite his legacy as Ron Harper II. Joakim Noah's ebullience and talent made him a legitimate star in these playoffs (you heard Obama drop his name!), and Andrew Bynum looked surgery in the eye and spat on it. If Brandon Roy is an hombre for going under the knife and coming back quickly, what's that make Bynum, the Marlboro man? (TZ)
They Who Defile the Basketball Gods
PG: George Hill
SG: Rudy Fernandez
SF: Jeff Green
PF: Rashard Lewis
C: Shaquille O'Neal
The flipside of the All-Basketball Gods team is the Anti-Basketball Gods team. Did these players desecrate basketball, or did the Basketball Gods deal these players rotten hands? You be the judge. All I know is that the Gods don't take kindly to self-important players passing up massive opportunities. It's impossible to argue Blazers guard Rudy Fernandez had a fine chance to elevate himself and his team in the wake of Roy's knee surgery. But Fernandez loafed through much of his series against the Suns, and went from cult hero to political liability in Oregon. Jeff Green didn't loaf, but he betrayed the faith of countless advocates by blowing jumper after jumper (and rebound after rebound) against the Lakers.
Shaquille O'Neal's larger-than-life personality led to sloganeering when Diesel decreed that he planned to "win a ring for the King"; the Gods reminded Shaq who actually makes those decision. Few know that every NBA contract passes through league offices in Secaucus, but also past the desk of the Solicitor-General of the Basketball Gods. Said official is known to add clauses to notable deals; it was decreed that Rashard Lewis "must not make Otis Smith look foolish" upon the approval of Shard's $100 million contract. Whoops.
As for George Hill, who throttled the Mavericks a couple times but wilted quicker than a peony on Mercury against Phoenix, consider the Gods' message a warning to other would-be hierarchical usurpers: stay in line behind the champ, kid. In other words, Hill will be ready to knock Tony Parker out of the Spurs' blueprint when the Gods decide, not when Hill decides. (TZ)
Team for NBA Hipsters
PG: Brandon Jennings
SG: Rodrigue Beaubois
SF: Nicolas Batum
PF: J.J. Hickson
C: Serge Ibaka
These playoffs offered little in the way of true star turns. That's actually good news for basketball hipsters, those who live to say "whatever, I saw this coming in 2010." Brandon Jennings, the cult favorite who can shoot well enough to make the mainstream, alternated between 30-point gems with absentee stinkers. He was the Leader of the Bucks, even as his play evinced damage and an uncertain future. Whatever, parents just don't understand. Rodrigue Beaubois burned bright for one glorious Game 6 -- a loss, at that. But he had even his team's owner chanting "Free Roddy B," the true mark of an underground sensation, and made Rick Carlisle look totally square for not understanding his genius.
Against the Suns, long-limbed specialist Nicolas Batum -- just call him "Nic" -- showed that he could generate offense with a French flair that offered a viable alternative to Tony Parker. Ever since Boris Diaw burnt out, we've been waiting for this. If Thunder teammate Russell Westbrook earned legitimacy, Serge Ibaka generated buzz and expectations that will carry over into next season. As Kelly Dwyer put it, "he's your favorite player. You just might not know that yet." J.J. Hickson might have been what the Cavs needed against Boston, but more importantly, he'll be waiting in the wings once Ibaka gets played out. (BS)
All-Lost Team
PG: Jeff Teague
SG: Leandro Barbosa
SF: C.J. Miles
PF: Tyrus Thomas
C: Kyrylo Fesenko
I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I think it goes something like this: Leandro Barbosa fell in a giant hole several years ago because he ran so fast he entered another dimension, and only emerged this spring to contribute meaningfully to Phoenix. The only problem was that, while he looked the same on television, in the flesh he looked like Marcus Banks. To everyone else, Goran Dragic looked like Barbosa, and when they joined forces, dimensions collided. Wait, let's backtrack: Jeff Teague, tired of languishing on the bench, sought the advice of scientists who told him in backward-speak that C.J. Miles was neither a starter nor a bench player for Utah, and that Fesenko would provide him with further clues in broken English marked by what may or may not have been a sense of humor.
On the way out, Teague tripped a switch that made the playoffs terrible in this life, but when we're all reincarnated as pine trees and are unable to see, they will be great. Right about now, Tyrus Thomas is waking up on the floor of his condo in Charlotte and realizing that, while Charlotte shares several letters in common with Chicago, the two are very different places and even more different teams. So he entered a state of suspended animation, which is weird because he was already in one, but then it turns out that J.R. had actually never been shot, but that him never being shot was a dream. Then J.R. Rider handed out free water ice. Print "Kevin Garnett is the Smoke Monster" tees with my blessings. (BS)
Sword of Righteousness, Inc.
PG: Deron Williams
SG: Dwyane Wade
SF: Kobe Bryant
PF: Kevin Durant
C: Dirk Nowitzki
In the movie 12 Angry Men, twelve men get extremely angry because they have to decide whether to send a young person to his death. During the NBA playoffs, one very frequent cause of anger is disappointment with one's teammates, or even one's self. It is not an environment for the weak of heart, or those low on self-regard. Then there are those who just play angry. Deron Williams has spent his career proving he's the equal of Chris Paul; this year, everyone called him better than Paul, and that only made him snort louder. Kevin Durant has such a strong aversion to loss, he gets indignant when he's anywhere near it -- the more he's winning, the angrier he gets at loss coming into focus. Wade and Dirk both found themselves alone on the field of battle and went out in a hail of made baskets.
Then there's the chief. Kobe Bryant is about to enter his seventh NBA Finals, and while you may hear him praised for refining his game with age, the truth is, he's just found new ways to get mad and stay that way. That stuff he does with his jaw looks like he's either trying to wrench his TMJ to a premature end, or gnaw apart any enemy in site. When he gets around this bunch, though, Kobe is all smiles and butterflies. With their wings ripped off. (BS)
Five Men and a Playground
PG: Steve Nash
SG: J.R. Smith
SF: LeBron James
PF: Josh Smith
C: Lamar Odom
The playoffs are a time for serious basketball that decides how men will be remembered once they die. That said, they also go on forever, and lend themselves to idle thought experiments. Here's one: If you were back on the court in your favorite hood, or playing NBA Street for the first time, what five guys would you pick to really set the night on fire? Actually, during that immortal clash of body and spirit that was Hawks-Bucks, Hubie brought this up to illustrate the peculiar dynamic of that series. Hubie may have struck cliche gold, but I want to take it in another direction: the ultimate unit for wide-open loose-ruled playground ball.
Steve Nash at PG is a no-brainer. J.R. Smith bowed out of the playoffs early, but his intergalactic threes and crazed dunks make him a welcome addition. For once, he belongs, and Nash might even keep him in line. Josh Smith, well, that one's self-explanatory. LeBron and Odom gives you two other ball-handlers and trick-passers -- not to mention James' ability to fire away like Smith and finish like, well, other Smith. There's no real center, not even a post player, but that's the price you pay for infinity. The NBA can argue about whether this is next level or utter chaos, but out here on the streets, it's just a recipe for back-breaking funk and illest halfcourt sets you've ever seen. (BS)
Five Men in a Foxhole
PG: Derek Fisher
SG: Manu Ginobili
SF: Jared Dudley
PF: Paul Millsap
C: Kendrick Perkins
Are we done with the swing set and hobby horses now? Basketball is war. While Shoals' playground team is busy eating tater tots and playing pattycake, the five guys on Team Foxhole (coached by Mark Schlereth) show the meaning of the word "sacrifice." No one takes more vicious screens than Derek Fisher, the Lakers' graybeard. Manu Ginobili went two series with a broken nose, continuing to careen through lanes with no fear. Jared Dudley is a socially aware Ron Artest (I'll let you decide what that means), and Paul Millsap has all the brawn a playoff team needs. (His talent won't send Carlos Boozer out of town -- his steel exoskeleton will. Karl Malone taught the great people of Utah playoff teams need mettle.) Kendrick Perkins' scowl once made Snap, Crackle and Pop shut up. (TZ)
All-Dad Team
PG: Andre Miller
SG: Joe Johnson
SF: Stephen Jackson
PF: Taj Gibson
C: Nick Collison
Going on census data alone, your dad is likely to prefer golf, golfing, or baseball to the NBA. Still, the playoffs always feature some players who really speak to everyone's inner dad. Andre Miller's early triumphs against the Suns and that hotshot Steve Nash were like his Rockport beating your Nikes in a shoe fight, which is something families do when they get together and quickly run out of things to talk about. Joe Johnson took his sweet time dispatching with the Bucks and then dissipated against Orlando. That's not important. He's a good kid who doesn't need the acclaim. Reminds me of someone who went to Purdue in the 1700's.
Stephen Jackson has gone from juvenile delinquent to a rickety approximation of den leader for Larry Brown's Bobcats. Brown and Michael Jordan are busy drawing pictures of golf clubs, so it's left to Jackson to set an example. No one's perfect, not even your father. That's part of growing up and becoming a dad yourself. Raising children is hard! (note: All-Dad is distinct from "All-Grown", which does not exist, but if it did, would denote those players who have crossed that threshold where you and your friends start becoming parents. See the All-Baby Team below.).
Taj Gibson is the Good Son incarnate, unassuming, loyal, and rewarded for his his work. Nick Collison never met a lawn he wouldn't mow -- that's his style of play in a nutshell, and from what my sources tell me, also his approach to livin' life to the fullest. The clincher: You know everyone on this list would appreciate a good Lazy Boy. (BS)
Through the Eyes of a Child
PG: Jameer "Crib Midget" Nelson
SG: Sasha Vujacic
SF: Luol Deng
PF: Glen "Big Baby" Davis
C: Tyson Chandler
Babies aren't as easy to please as you'd think. A set of car keys or a healthy serving of puréed squash can only go so far. Infants need constant and diverse stimulation. Luckily, the playoffs had everything a baby could want. I dare you to say "Sasha Vujacic" to an infant and try to escape without a giggle. "Luol DANG!" is targeted more to the toddler set, but still ultra-effective. The esteemed Tim Povtak alerted us to Jameer Nelson's secret nickname "Crib Midget," a moniker since given to untold numbers of children whose parents are NBA fanatics. Likewise, youngsters love their own, which grants Big Baby star status among kid-kind.
Tyson Chandler is a tricky one -- he's a full-grown man without an endearingly "cute" nickname. He's no babyface -- he has a impeccably trimmed beard, after all. But he just seems so darn likable. And babies have that karmic Spidey sense; they can distinguish between benevolent and dangerous dogs, and the creepy uncle always gets the spit-up. Chandler gets nothing but smiles, and that earns him a berth on Team Baby, even if he only stuck around for four games. (TZ)
Team Edward
PG: Tony Parker
SG: Marquis Daniels
SF: Caron Butler
PF: Ersan Ilyasova
C: Kevin Garnett
Team Jacob
PG: Mo Williams
SG: Ron Artest
SF: Gerald Wallace
PF: Pau Gasol
C: Robin Lopez
Because sometimes, no man is safe. You've got to take a side or risk being beaten to death next time you venture to your local shopping mall. Here's hoping you -- and these players -- end up on the right side at the right time. You can take your pick; these guys, pretty much stuck there by destiny and dark burdens that few fans will ever know about. Just saying, bring garlic to Ilyasova's pool party, and pack a piece full of silver if Robin Lopez invites you to go shopping for Xtreme Pogo Balls.
Oh, and dear NBA, you messed up big-time by not doing a Twilight: Eclipse tie-in. Or were they holding out for the NFL preseason? Whatever. They walk, run and jump among you. Those spots would have written themselves, even more so than Avatar. (BS)