Shadows and Dust

LeBron got two new tattoos before these playoffs. One on the right arm says, "What we do in life," while the one on the left arm completes the phrase with, "Echoes in eternity." Well, game five definitely will at least.

Since that quote is from Gladiator, here are a slew of other quotes from Gladiator that would also be fitting right now:

"You have a great name. You must kill your name before he kills you."
Yes, this is the question we have to ask following that loss: What does "LeBron" mean right now? Since his days at St. Vincent-St. Mary's, he has existed as potential personified; the name "LeBron" standing for the coming roundball epoch when he would raze the league then rebuild it in his image without letting any of the crumbs touch the ground. But a game like he played in game five is nowhere to be found in the scriptures.

Of course we're judging him harshly; that's what you do to supposed saviors. So no, this was not just another bad game. That cannot happen with this man. If he wants to fulfill the prophecy, he has to always be the best, always. And he needs to do this all the time, and never not do this. Additionally, he can never not be the best. He was way not the best in game five.

And if it happens in game six, the name "LeBron" may start to stand for something else.

"The frost, it sometimes makes the blade stick."
This Angry LeBron thing? I don't know if that's his jam. Seems like he just saw that Kobe does the angry face, so figured he should do the angry face. Nah. This is Lebron:



Or this:



"I may die here in this cell or in the arena tomorrow. What possible difference can I make?"
I know LeBron, it must be hard to have your impact pretty much negated by Mike Brown's choice of lineups. Because Mike Brown doesn't seem all that good at choosing the most effective lineups, does he? How about Delonte or Varejao or Hickson? But most importantly, Mike Brown needs to remember that the better team is the one who is supposed to impose their style and character on the game. But who knows who the better team is here.

"He sleeps so well because he is loved."
This is the dude who dressed like this after getting bounced from the playoffs last year:



Losing needs to start mattering to him if he wants whatever legendary basketball players are supposed to want.

"I don't pretend to be a man of the people. But I do try to be a man for the people."
I don't speak for each writer on this Website when I say that LeBron James will never be in my Fave Five (and, actually, I know I kind of am speaking for the other writers on this Website, but we all have our own reasons).

But: I love watching him when he asserts, I love that he can turn every muscle twitch into an event and, as a life-long fan of this semi-niche professional league, I love his importance. I love that he developed his own calling-card dunk (you know, his arm juts out perpendicular to his body, his legs just about cross and he freezes for like a minute before putting it through), because I love dunks. I love that he's the first true NBA icon that I've been able to watch from day one and truly digest every nuance of his sprawling narrative as it happens (although I was there for Kobe and Iverson's entrance, I was a touch young to really grasp the meaning).

"He will bring them death, and they will love him for it."
I don't want to get into what this means for free agency too much, but those catty comments in the post-game press conference—"I spoil a lot of people with my play. When you have a bad game here or there, you've had three bad games in a seven-year career, then it's easy to point that out."—are really helping his bid for league supervillain if he does decide to go to the Knicks.

"Ultimately, we're all dead men. Sadly, we cannot choose how, but what we can decide is how we meet that end, in order that we are remembered as men."
A win in game six does not wash this performance away. The only mouthwash for this is a championship.

How Seriously Should we Take Orlando? Part II: Electric Boogaloo

I was going to post this in the comments of Adam's post, but we don't have enough readers for that type of behavior yet. Anyway, while we were both three stories above sea level this past weekend, JoaquinPhoenixSuns told me that this blog needed less words, more turds (well he said "videos" instead of "turds"), so 'ere you go:



Yeah, so many things. Clearly, the slo-mo Jason Williams is the winner here, but also: That bouncy line dancing, Gortat's between-the-legs Euro dunk contest entry, J.J. Redick's very very earnest double-clutch and, most epically, Matt Barnes attempting the low-percentage pass to Mini Sly (he's got stone hands). Just in case you weren't sure how much you liked this team.

How Seriously Should we Take Orlando?

Up until this point, I have refused to answer the above question with anything along the lines of "very". It's THE year for LeBron, right? And knowing that, I have simply refused to acknowledge the idea that any team in the East could pose any sort of threat to the Cavs.

But that might have to change. As Andrew Abides has pointed out, the Hawks are the worst. I know. But they are still a group of breathing men, and the Magic have been making it appear otherwise during this series. And it's hard to listen to Stan Van Gundy or Vince Carter talk about the selflessness of this team without believing that could legitimately give them an edge. I don't give a fuck how much we hear about how badly the rest of the Cleveland team wants to get LeBron his ring. I call bullshit. Yes, they all want to win a title. I want to win a title. You want to win a title, too. But wanting to win a title for an individual--whether it is yourself or someone else--is different from wanting to win a title with the specific group of people with whom you have been placed.

This Magic team seems to be comprised out of players who all genuinely like each other. And, I should mention, it seems to be comprised out of players who have been assembled with the idea of a well-functioning team, not a "supporting cast". I think this is important. They want to win because they would like to share a moment of congratulatory joy with each other, right? They're having fun.

Can you say the Cavs all like each other? Do they like anything? Okay, Z likes adopting kids and Shaq likes yoga, but come on. I don't see any affection. I don't see any fun. I see fear about the future that would come after losing to Orlando, a fear that as of today, I'm not sure can be avoided.

Round 2 Coming Attractions: Lakers-Jazz

We here at No Regard love our stories. And the playoffs are where each narrative strand that was teased in the regular season is shredded or affirmed. So, here are the second round series as we see them. Some of them are late; so was Kanye's second album, and you used to love his blog. Thank you.

Alright, so Pau Gasol is a superstar. Applaud my lethargic realization if you must, but it is finally unanimously true. No longer is he Diet Dirk, nor Kobe's Snuggly Tauntaun. He is Pau, strange man from a foreign land, 29 years old and incapable of shaving, yet still the real deal, the funk and the noise if you will. Trust me, I hate it. I hate it more than mayonnaise, and I hate mayonnaise, Oz. I wish Pau would just go to hell. Or Spain. Or Memphis. Or really anywhere that would let him work to make a good team great, and not a great team unstoppable. Alas, he lays his head in the City of Angels and plays world class basketball with world class people.

Pau is far from the first of his kind. Phil Jackson finds a poster boy every few years, a young buck plucked from obscurity to help add hardware to his collection and depth to his pool of money. If we're going to make a comparison... SPIEEEEEELBERRRRRRG.

Now if you're trying to figure out how Pau is Tom Hanks, stop. I love Tom Hanks. Tom Hanks makes movie tickets worth money. Pau's basketball style is like watching someone euthanize puppies. As I said before, I want Pau to go to hell. (Perhaps hell is extreme. I would settle for convincing his fame, talent, and good fortune to stop drinking, sit down, and quit blocking my view of the rest of the league.)

As the Lakers go through the motions of beating the Jazz, as I watch four tedious games, I can only ask: Why is this the lopsided matchup we've been left with? How are the Jazz ever supposed to pretend that they will stop Pau without Memo? What is Carlos Boozer supposed to do? Should he block Pau's fadeaway like Customs denied Viktor Navorski's passport? SPOILER ALERT: That didn't work. (Although Stanley Tucci is always fun to watch.)

If you have yet to catch on, The Terminal bored the shit out of me. How was this infinite pool of talent poured into such a shallow well? Why was that the story we were watching? No way this makes for an interesting series. Wake me up when it's over.

Defining Quote:

"Buddy, I think you been spending too much time inhaling them cleaning products."

Lakers in 4.

Round 2 Coming Attractions: Orlando-Atlanta

We here at No Regard love our stories. And the playoffs are where each narrative strand that was teased in the regular season is shredded or affirmed. So, here are the second round series as we see them. Some of them are late; so was Kanye's second album, and you used to love his blog. Thank you.

The Hawks. Are the worst. As (like I've mentioned and you've noticed) we're not always on time with these things, I'm writing this after game one of this series. The Hawks lost by 43 points after letting an undermanned Milwaukee team take them to seven games. Because they are the worst. I'm a Nets fan, so I know what bad is; I know what gutless looks like. And this is it. So, if they're not going to try, neither am I. Fire Mike Woodson now, before the playoffs end. Send a message. Or not. Who cares.

Round 2 Coming Attractions: Phoenix-San Antonio

We here at No Regard love our stories. And the playoffs are where each narrative strand that was teased in the regular season is shredded or affirmed. So, here are the second round series as we see them. Some of them are late; so was Kanye's second album, and you used to love his blog. Faced. Thank you.

The NBA, or any professional sports league for that matter, has never seen a pair of twins more likely to attempt a good, old-fashioned, PG-rated Twin Switcharoo than the Lopez brothers. The guys are not only well-documented goofballs, but Mouse House junkies as well. Peep this, from a 2008 Sports Illustrated piece by Ramona Shelburne:

"Their dorm rooms at Stanford are filled with Disney figurines. They know every single shred of Disney trivia. Names of obscure characters, the actors who voiced every part, Walt Disney's favorite color. And being Stanford students, they have been known to get into spirited intellectual debates on the relative merits of traditional animation versus computer generated characters."

No doubt The Parent Trap was their favorite movie for a minute. They must be downright giddy right now that they're about to pull off the coup they rambunctiously plotted many a night while riding a mean Dr. Pepper sugar high.

Robin didn't play game one of the series, but word is he'll most likely get some burn later on. How convenient: We haven't seen Brook since April 14, definitely enough time for a Stanford grad to learn the Suns' sets. During the regular season, Brook held Duncan to 13 and 14 points, so not a bad replacement for his brother, who also had some luck against the Big Fundamental this year. If the Suns' miracle training staff was able to heal Robin, they would have applied the salve before the playoffs so he was ready for round one. But they didn't, so now we all get to watch two kids stick it to all those mean grown-ups out there.

That's really all I have. We all know this is going to be great.

You honestly want analysis of the basketball at hand here? Okay. Popovich and the Spurs in the playoffs are always something something something. Steve Nash just sees the game something and at his age is still something something. You know the big guys on both teams (Ginobili, Duncan, Stoudemire, etc.) are something and something, but the the x-factors here blah blah blah. If the Suns want to win, they are going to need Jason Richardson to words, analysis and words. Also, home-court advantage really means nothing to the Spurs and Amar'e is one championship run away from making those Rec Specs iconic. Needless to say, we're looking at a donnybrook here.

The only other thing the Suns need to worry about is the original Stanford twin NBAer Jarron Collins tattling on the Lopez kids, ruining the giddy rouse for all of us.

Defining quote
Hallie: I have a brilliant beyond brilliant idea!

Suns in 7

Fire-Eyed Man

"I am little concerned with beauty or perfection. I don't care for the great centuries. All I care about is life, struggle, intensity."- Emile Zola

If one were to do a Google search of this blog's name, he or she would most likely encounter a video of LeBron James posterizing Kevin Garnett during the 2008 playoffs. Even though Garnett's Celtics went on to win the Finals that year, there is something about that dunk that makes me think KG did not forget about it after getting his ring.

The kind of intensity, the kind of competitiveness, that lives inside of Kevin Garnett is the kind that is not easily sated. It is the kind that makes you wonder if he ever sleeps at night, or if he is constantly plagued by visions of a late pass, a missed assignment, a shot clinked off the back of the rim. Andrew Abides and I used to wonder what it would be like to go out for a drink with Garnett. Would he race you to the bottom of each pint? Stare at you menacingly as you tried to beat his score on Big Buck Hunter? See who could slam his tip down on the bar the hardest? Is there anything the man can't turn into a chance to prove his superiority?

With these kinds of questions running through my head, I find it impossible to not think about how Garnett sees himself in this, LeBron's, NBA.

It might be worth considering whether KG could have ever been the figurehead that LeBron has become. For years, he existed as (arguably, I suppose) the best player in the NBA, a freakishly athletic big man who made everyone on his team better and just about always found a way to win, except for when it really counted. Sound familiar? But just as Garnett finally found that team success he yearned for so badly, he was no longer that best player, according to conventional wisdom. It is no secret that Kevin Garnett, in many ways, ushered in the modern era of this game, and yet, his name will not be the one mentioned as its owner. No matter how much more success his teams have than LeBron's, he will end up being remembered not as "one of the top five players of all time," but more like, "one of the best big men of all time" or "one of the fiercest competitors in history." It is hard to say exactly what KG's legacy will look like, but it is fairly easy to say what it won't look like.


Could the NBA's marketing machine have made Garnett into the kind of commercial, pop cultural superstar we have seen LBJ become? Probably not. His background was a little too questionable, his temper was a little too real, his body was a little too lanky, and his style was just never as smooth as LeBron's. Perhaps most importantly, he came along at a time when the NBA wasn't sure if it wanted a face, and if it did, it sure as hell didn't know what that face was supposed to look like.

So tonight, as LeBron takes home his MVP trophy and Garnett takes home the knowledge that he and his Celtics made James and his Cavs look like a JV squad in Game 2, think about the idea of motivation. Think about what is at stake for certain players as this season winds down, but more than that, think about what is at stake for certain players as their careers wind down. Think about legacies. Think about history. Think about life. Think about what it truly means to have no regard. Think about this face:

Round 2 Coming Attractions: Boston-Cleveland

We here at No Regard love our stories. And the playoffs are where each narrative strand that was teased in the regular season is shredded or affirmed. So, here are the second round series as we see them. (And if they're late? Well, we are sorry.) Thank you.

When the lucky viewer first meets Dupree in You, Me and Dupree he arrives at his best friend Carl’s wedding in great spirits; he’s ready to make a winning contribution to the celebratory festivities and re-live his glory days. On paper, Dupree’s presence in Carl’s life is advantageous for both parties. I imagine that, when their respective squads signed Rasheed Wallace and Shaquille O’Neal, Celtics fans and Cavs fans felt a lot like Carl right after Dupree showed up at his wedding. Both players seemed like the missing link in potential championship runs. Cs fans envisioned Wallace as the perfect sixth man to mimic KG’s intensity off the bench and Cavs fans salivated realizing they finally had an answer to Dwight Howard whose last name didn’t start with a Z. But once the dust settled, Carl, Bostonians and Clevelanders realized that having Dupree around is more than just shots, spicy Buffalo wings and HBO. This series begs the question, which very tall man is the real Dupree?

Ball don’t lie, but neither does Sheed’s three-point field goal percentage this season, a terrible 28.3. Additionally, Sheed scored on his own basket a few weeks ago, much like when Dupree used Carl’s private bathroom while Carl was trying to slam his new wife. In terms of basketball and friendships, it doesn’t get much worse than hitting a lay-up on your own hoop and cock-blocking. These two points alone make Sheed a serious candidate for the real Dupree. That said, Shaq has absolutely had his fair share of Dupree-like moments.

His numbers are about as low as they’ve been in his entire life; specifically, scoring 50 percent less than his career average, just 12 points a game. He’s the oldest player in the league and it shows. Watching him try to keep pace with LeBron is seriously laughable, and I’m convinced that Barkley, after a long night of drinking and analyzing on TNT, would beat him in a full-court sprint. He hasn’t burned down the Q yet, like Dupree did to Carl’s house while trying to set the mood with his new girlfriend, but he might well be on his way.

Dupree means well, but he’s a massive a jackass and ruins a great thing for Carl. Similarly, Sheed is a massive jackass, but I’m not even convinced he means well. He entered this season looking like post-strike Shawn Kemp for god’s sake (fat, for those of you who forget). And while Shaq has many failings this year, he’s brought his “I’ve won four rings and I desperately want another one so I can have more than Kobe" mentality to this Cavs team and it's clear this has infected Bron (he seems more possessed than he’s ever been, adopting Kobe's apocalyptic grimace a few years early). The real Dupree’s about to stand up, and he’ll be wearing green.

Cleveland in 7.

Defining Quote
Carl Peterson: What you did in the bathroom last night was disgusting.

Dupree: I know, I'm never eating buffalo wings again.

Editors Note: I wrote this entry before game one and understand that Sheed killed it in game 2 and Shaq was garbage. That said, one game doesn't change a season. He'll still be the real Dupree. Just watch.