Nothing But Iron: NBI on the NBA June 17, 2006 by Steven R. Lagman, M.D., C.A.S.W. Yeah, I follow the NBA. I don’t pick it up until summer’s first harvest, but opinions grow as fast as lettuce, so I offer a sample of my bounty of biases for your sportsreading salad bowl. Add a vinaigrette if you like, but don’t get it on your monitor screen. No need to brace yourself for one of those bitter up-on-the-soapbox lashings of the NBA style of play. I am not here to accuse the league of perverting the game of basketball with selfish sloppiness. Sure there are lapses when the old influences emerge like a belch at a dinner party, mostly catalyzed by fatigue or a shot clock that would challenge a mom trying to melt cheese in a microwave, but mostly I see excellent basketball. I am not being a bit facetious when I say that the quality of play in the NBA Finals threatens to suck me into next year’s regular season. Short of Devin Harris and five or six other Mavs, including Avery Johnson, being traded to the Bucks that probably won’t really happen. There are only so many 24-second shot clocks in a day and I heard a new semi-pro partial-contact arena badminton league debuts next winter. That just begs to be covered. I would say I am pleasantly surprised by the NBA, but I am not surprised. Outside of the playoffs, you could almost count the minutes of pro basketball I have watched in the last decade on the goals of a typical World Cup soccer match, but I have seen enough to appreciate the trend. There is a simple reason that successful NBA teams are mining precious metals like defensive stance, shot challenging, passing and pick setting, and it has nothing to do with a deep respect of the game’s fundamentals. It helps them win. Team play gives teams an edge. Ask Kobe and LeBron if you don’t believe me. So what’s wrong with the Dallas Mavericks? They flogged Miami in the first two, fizzled in the fourth quarter in game 3 and fell flat on their faces in game 4. That’s a lot of fs. Is this latest two-game losing streak a critical implosion in the making, or could it be that winning the NBA Championship is just kinda hard? Would the apparent slide have anything to do with the fact that Dallas is playing either the best or the second-best team in the NBA? Would it have anything to do with Dwayne Wade, who, on top having a double-team demanding paint monster as a decoy, has Jordanesque skills savvy (despite having attended UW-Marquette, a second-tier state college)? Could it be that Miami is adapting to the the Dallas’s tenacious double-down, rotate-to-cover defense? Lastly, do you suppose home court advantage is a factor? There is a reason these series often go seven games and it may not be rocket surgery science. It could be that both teams are really good, and neither wants to lose. Would we want it any other way? Well maybe Dallas in six would be fine. Maverick’s fan? Yes I am. As I basketball fan I admire and respect the Heat. But I like Dallas. I like Michael Finley, even though he’s gone. I like Devin Harris, who, in spite of the ill-applied predictions of some NBI readers, is a legitimate pro-caliber player with a legitimate shot at a ring. I like Mark Cuban. He’s a little nutty at times, but you have to admire his passion. He beats the smell out of Marge Schott, Al Davis or the Bidwell family. I had to say smell instead of the offensive H-word that rhymes with it, because the latter might trigger your sensitivity blocker, which would block the H-word and the non-offensive content of this column, including run-on sentences, although it will be interesting to see if the word Schott gets through. I like how Avery Johnson coaches. When I see Dirk Nowitzky bolt from the lane and extend his 7-foot frame to its limit to defend a three-point attempt on the baseline I know there is good coaching. Jerry Stackhouse got suspended for fouling Shaq. Johnson called it "baloney". Shaq was unaware of the impact, telling an NBI reporter, "I thought it was the air coming out of the air conditioning duct." Give Johnson credit for his restraint. Use of deli items in the public criticism of NBA disciplinary actions qualifies him for a 40% discount on any related fine. I have another B word that would work just as well, but that would cost me. Oh wait, the NBA can’t fine me, so that’s bullshirt, I mean bullspit, ahh . . . you know what I mean. Stackhouse is no wimp, but the league suspending him in the NBA Finals for a flagrant foul against 7-1, 325-pound Shaq is about as sensible as charging deer with vandalism for running into SUVs. The suspension will hurt the Mavericks. But it might help them. There are few motivators more powerful than injustice. By the way, anybody doubt that Harris belongs in the NBA now? Just in case the shots still aren’t falling in game five, a word of advice for Dirk and Josh and Jason: Get the ball to Devin. How many times during his productive streak in the third and fourth quarters of game 4 did you see Harris standing wide open at the arc while his teammates’ shots hit more iron than blacksmiths at the Kentucky Derby? Exit NBA, enter PGA. The big news is that Tiger, without so much as a meow, collapsed at the turn. Didn’t even come close to making the cut. I suppose that fact will be overanalyzed long after winner cashes his check. Maybe we should cut Tiger a little Mulligan. His dad died, and he hasn’t played much since. What should we have expected? One golf expert wrote that "someone in Tiger’s entourage should have told him to sit this one out." I am not suggesting I know more than a golf expert, but that’s salami. Even if the ultimate result is failure, Tiger has sure as ghell earned the right to try. Lastly, by popular demand: poetry. At least it is in the very loose sense, meaning some of the words rhyme. It was inspired, as many things are, by my brother Bruce, who henceforth will be known as Dr. Bruess. In the context of us helping our sister buy a used car, I asked him this simple, yes-or-no-will-do-just-fine question: Can she drive a stick? He e-mailed the following: She cannot drive a stick you see, she cannot drive one unlike me, She will not, can not drive a manny, must have auto in her tranny. Can she drive one in a box? Can she drive one without socks? No she mustn’t drive a shifting car, it will not get her very far. She cannot drive a stick you see, she cannot drive one unlike me. For continuity sake I replied: I'm glad you spent some extra time, to entertain me with a rhyme, I guess we'll let the car decide, upon which gear for sister's ride. Still, to drive, she must rehearse, the use of forward and reverse. At what you wrote, I laughed out loud; for this small feat you can be proud. I'm glad you spent some extra time, to entertain me with a rhyme. Unless Kim gets a sports car with an automatic transmission, none of this rhyming has any thing to do with sports, but I just wanted you to see that we are not as shallow as you think we are. I’m not sure we convinced you. ______________ Nothing But Iron is an amateur sports column. This issue is dedicated to Raul M. Lagman, the author’s dad, who loved to laugh. Dad Lagman would surely have been amused that his sons sometimes communicate with one and other in silly rhymes. This issue is also dedicated to the author’s wife and kids, all of whom were instrumental in him achieving the status of fatherhood. © 2006 DrTM Enterprises. All rights reserved.