Bleeding hearts of the world UNITE!

Well, it's June and we're running out of options. The question we ask tonight is the same we've been asking for ten months: really, seriously, who is going to beat the Lakers? We've reasoned it out, convincing ourselves that almost any team, the Magic, Mavs, Thunder, or Suns could somehow pull it off, could save us from the collective yawn, the mind-numbing apathy of another post-Laker victory summer.

Now we look to our favorite Green Henchmen to save us. Not a month ago we were gleefully mocking the C's with our movie analogies. Yet tonight we implore, we beg them to rescue us from the smug Phil Jackson Press Conferences, from the douchey Kobe smiles and five-ring photo shoots, and from the harrowing proof that this league, renowned for surprises and upsets, can indeed be as predictable as a telenovela.

I don't care if the Celtics are ever a good team again. I don't care who plays or whether Ubuntu is involved, I don't care if this is an ugly, last ditch effort fueled by Rogaine and Bengay, I just want for the eyes in my face to see proof that somebody can beat this Lakers team.

One thing is certain, you cannot beat the Lakers on accident. The Thunder didn't have the experience, the Jazz lacked the talent, and the Suns just couldn't put it all together. But the Celtics could be different. Hell, they beat the Lakers recently, and that was before Rajon Rondo "hatched." Sure, it was also before the Big Three started aging in dog years, and before their front office started saying things like, "Hey Guys, Meet Rasheed."

The Lakers have been playing like it's Christmas in June. I know one guy who can end that. I'll give you a hint, he's green.

If You See Something, Say Something

IYSSSS is our semi-regular Internet intelligence report, a liberal arts approach to following the NBA on the Web. E-mail us at jewsforjesusshuttlesworth@gmail.com if you've got any suggestions.

Brain On Funk: Amazing how Doc Funk was able to get on that space station with Jay-Z and Prokhorov.

Slam Magazine [via FD]: Preview of Lang Whitaker's cover story on Rondo. "I didn’t watch the NBA until maybe my freshman year of college, because I was trying to get there. It just wasn’t interesting to me." Says he never saw Jordan, never saw Garnett, never saw Hakeem. Makes sense in that his aesthetics are wholly unique and his approach is so blue-collar, but he just keeps moving further down the list of players I'd want to hang out with. Let's all pinky swear to buy this issue when it hits newsstands, underline all our favorite parts and keep it under our pillows.

Slam Magazine: LeBron on stage with Drake. Is LeBron so timid about throwing up the Roc because he doesn't want to offend Drake's Young Money sensibilities or because he suddenly realizes he's not entirely sure what he's supposed to do at a hip-hop show? Because he's a basketball player and all. (He is, right?) I hope he signs with No Limit Records in July instead of an NBA team and records "Make 'Em Say Uhh! Pt. II" featuring Mystikal and Troy Hudson, with Artest dropping Jeezy-level ad-libs.

Don Cannon/ Vitamin Water "Mixtape": In case you wanted to hear all the stale "reasons" why LeBron should/will come to [insert team with cap space here] spit by Jadakiss, Mikey Rocks and others (seriously, doesn't matter who), that's what this is. They all rhyme way too literally here, but Mikey Rocks drives home one thing we can all agree on: "Just no more rings for L.A./Nah, no more rings for L.A."

The No-Look Pass [via BDL]: Ignoring the urge to try to figure out if I would think this was gross if it was an NFL player wearing a comparable shirt. Because it's not. It's Kevin Durant and it's hilarious.

Bibby's World: A Cool Thing

As a huge fan of computers and the movie Minority Report, I find this video to be something out of my own personal fantasy. But what does this have to do with Basketball or friendship? Simple:

Life > Friendship > Basketball

This Machine will change Life.

Machine > Life; therefore,

Machine > Friendship + Basketball

People are always saying, "Who knows what the future holds?" I'll tell you: It's me playing Sega Genesis emulators with motion sensor gloves on.

This Summit Ain't No High Point

NOTE: As I was finishing the following post, news broke that there will be no summit. Whatever. My opinion still stands and it's not like these guys aren't talking in a less official capacity.

While I am (not) sure that Andrew will be getting us ready for Thursday with an extended post on why Celtics-Lakers is a big old crock of horse shit that smells like poop and puts his pretty little head right to sleep, I would like to gripe about the current NBA event that people actually care about.

So Amar'e is in on the conspiracy. He is going to attend this "summit" and take part in a conversation that will apparently shape the foreseeable future of the NBA. He is going to sit in some secret lair with his four besties and talk about where he wants to go for his all expenses paid extended vacation. I, for one, hope that he and Misters James, Johnson, Wade and Bosh all get very lost on the day of that planned summit.

Because, ladies and gentlemen, I don't like it, not one bit. There are plenty of reasons why someone like me should find this kind of thing positive and exciting. First, it's just kind of cool to think about these guys gathering for anything, really. Also, the more people involved with this talk, the better chance my Knicks will be able to land LeBron +1. Plus, the traditional free agent game--with the all-powerful teams courting players and crafting deals that make decisions seem solely money-based--is not really something to mourn when it is absent.

And yet, I just straight-up hate the idea of this summit. I hate the fact that these players can collectively decide to make the Eastern Conference even more top-heavy. I hate that they are all sort of giving the finger to their current teams, at least in a more visible way than free agents have tended to do in the past. But honestly, my real problem here comes down to the fact that I still have some crazy notion that opponents should try to win against each other to the point where they could not really be friends. Next season, when I see Wade and Bron or Bosh and Amare going head to head, I will be thinking about how they collectively decided that these were the matchups that would occur. It will seem contrived and just a little too...friendly.

Maybe I'm too old-fashioned and maybe my NBA mythology is a little too much based on a warrior model, but goddammit, I would at least like to pretend that these guys don't get to plan out the next five years of the league based on the buddy system.

Troy's Bucket

"Don't you realize? The next time you see sky, it'll be over another town. The next time you take a test, it'll be in some other school. Our parents, they want the best of stuff for us. But right now, they got to do what's right for them. Because it's their time. Their time! Up there! Down here, it's our time. It's our time down here. That's all over the second we ride up Troy's bucket."


Before we jump into this "historic" journey that is the 2010 NBA finals (the equivalent of two billionaires fighting for $1,000,000), let's give proper respect to your favorite team that's not your favorite team: The Phoenix Suns.

This movie match-up thing is close to it's breaking point (and we are all thankful we only have one left), but this one just might be optimistic enough to work. Getting some pleasantries out of the way: Nash looked like Sloth after getting hit in the eye, but is Mikey to the death. Amar'e is Corey Feldman. Grant Hill is Oscar-worthy in the Josh Brolin role of older brother who's not sure if they're allowed to be doing this. Leondro is Data and I guess Dudley gets requests for the Truffle Shuffle? Steve Kerr is Mikey's dad, ignoring his son's desire for stability and only thinking business. And whoa: Phil Jackson is Ma Fratelli.


Whatever, this is not about how they match up to the movie, this is about the feeling you first got watching Nash on the Suns and about how that era might be ending.

Yeeesssssss! We Can

The deadpan humor here is top-notch on both sides and you know Obama didn't need any prepping for this interview; he is so at ease talking about basketball. But mostly, I just love hearing our president say "the league" and be talking about our league.

If You See Something, Say Something

IYSSSS is our semi-regular Internet intelligence report, a liberal arts approach to following the NBA on the Web. E-mail us at jewsforjesusshuttlesworth@gmail.com if you've got any suggestions.

FreeDarko: Photographic proof that there is more to Kobe than any of us know.

DraftExpress on YouTube: Let's all just remember to revisit these draft prospect interviews five years from now. Someone in Cousins' camp obviously told him he needs to act mature, but seems like he mixed up maturity with somberness; dude looks plain sad. But biggest lesson here: THESE GUYS ARE KIDS (except John Wall).

Robin Lopez Twitter: If you're wondering if Fropez had anything to say about his strong playoff performance on Twitter, I'll save you the time: He didn't. But reading his most recent tweet, from March 24, is well worth your time.

Slam Magazine: Z's thoughts on Mike Brown's exit just reinforce his stigma as the kindest man in the world. And Stan Van Gundy is also what he always is: Saucy and a little misguided.

True Hoop: [Affects Hubie Brown voice] Henry Abbott is the best NBA journalist we have in this game, and Greg Oden is the most heartbreaking player. Watching him talk about Durant is debilitating.

The Element of Surprise

Of course it can be said that any basketball team will be at a disadvantage if they go into a matchup having to face a team they were not expecting. This just makes sense. What I can't help but to wonder now, as the Orlando Magic hobble back home after narrowly avoiding a sweep, is whether there is a special kind of disadvantage when a team wrongly expects to face the best player in the world.

To think of the kind of psychological buildup necessary to prepare for LeBron James is to understand what it means to pit yourself up against the weight of the world. It must go beyond merely assigning yourself the self-inspiring underdog status and become the sort of feeling that allows a complete sense of freedom from external pressures. Think about it. If, as I had predicted, the Magic were playing the Cavs in these Eastern Conference Finals, they would have been going in as the team that no one would expect to win, even though they had been on a tremendous tear leading up to the point.

Instead, they have gone into this series with the Celtics as perhaps favorites, and if not that, a team without any real psychological footing. The Celtics do not offer the sort of drama off of which a team like the Magic could feed. Despite their success over the past few years, they do not give a team like the Magic those performance-enhancing butterflies. They never gave Orlando a chance to shock the world, because no matter what happened this series, it likely wouldn't have really shocked very many people.

The pragmatic way of looking at this is to say, "The Celtics offer tougher all-around matchups than the Cavs would have," or "Rondo is a caliber of point guard Orlando had not yet faced these playoffs, nor would they have faced in Mo Williams," or "Boston is just such an experienced team!" These are the things people are saying, no?

But, really, it seems just as likely to me that this performance by Orlando--which, I promise, has been far more disappointing than what it would have been against Cleveland--may have an explanation that lies in something less tangible: the tragedy of broken promises, the burden of misplaced expectations, and the robbery of the all-too valuable role as giant-killer.