The Sound of the Suburbs

Do you wanna marry ... a lumberjack?

I didn't think so. Kinda like watching the Winter Olympics. Pass.

Bad enough the Games start with a horrible death in the most exciting event offered -- and not to belittle in the least the poor man and his loving family because my heart goes out to them -- but it just puts a damper on the whole event. And yes, what a horrible bastard I am demeaning the efforts of all the global athletes who have given their hearts and souls for years in search of gold.

More power to them.

I'll take the jingoistic tactic and stick to our dumbass American wheelhouse: hoop, football and baseball. Isn't it about time for pitchers and catchers to report?!

Makes me wonder if Gaylord Perry always got to camp on time, getting that spitter in gear in the crackling Florida February air, and Satchel Paige too ... I don't think so.

So Marcus Camby gets moved by the Clippers for a couple of journeyman and 3M bucks. Donald Sterling, true to form, dumps the third leading rebounder in the NBA for next to nothing, meaning if Brandon Roy gets healthy, Portland makes a run in the West and might even make it to the WCF depending on the draw. Go Blazers!

What is it with MC anyway? Among the most traded players in league history yet by all outward appearances a good citizen, good teammate and hard-working baller who does what it takes to win and then some; best of luck to him in the cozy confines of The Rose Garden. Camby is the perfect guy for Portland; an expert rebounder who knows how to play the glass, which will come in handy when Rudy Fernandez starts heaving 3s. Rudy is a budding star, a deadeye legend in his own mind, and MC will only make him better because there's no better longshot bet than a gunner who misses a heave then gets it back in the same spot for a deuce. For that to happen, of course, it takes a village ... and a rebounder.

I love this game.

Most interesting note about the Dallas All-Star game was three studs clearly telling their coach they needed a blow: KG, Paul Pierce and Tim Duncan. Minimal minutes played. Holding it for the playoffs. Prudent move, gents.

As noted previously in this space, Boston is saving it all for spring, as well they should. They're likely headed for a No. 3 seed and a first-round test v. Larry Brown's Bobcats, who will be a tough out. Boston can only be glad it won't draw Atlanta, who owns the Celtics, in the first round. Stephen Jackson, Gerald Wallace, the rejuvenated and underrated Nazr Mohammed (another doofus Dumars deal) will prove an obstacle in round one, particularly for Boston. If Orlando and Cleveland finish two-one, they will wipe the mat with Miami and Chicago/Milwaukee whomever in the first round while Boston expends so much energy beating Charlotte by the time it gets to Orlando, the Celtics could be chump bait.

Of course, the theory is Boston got Sheed to clamp down Superman but good luck with that. I still won't count Boston out but, barring injury or a major deal tomorrow, the Celtic get flattened by Orlando who then give LBJ and the Cavs all they can handle, with or without Stoudmire, Jamison or Troy Murphy.

Still, Cleveland will win the East because it is their time and, spare me the West deets, LA will be there at the end.

But I repeat myself.

The 82-game NBA slog takes forever, somehow seeming longer than the 162 MLB year, because baseball has its slow, inexorable axis turning season unlike basketball, which is such a speed-freak game due in no small part to the fact our nightly highlight diet consists of high-flying threes and slamaroonies.

Baseball moves at its own speed while hoop fans are poised for the post from day one. But you gotta pay the rent if you're an NBA owner, so there.

Frankly, I can't wait for baseball because the opening season Yankees-Red Sox series will offer more cumulative drama than every NBA game in March combined. But when the playoffs start, ah, suddenly every possession will be War.

I can't wait for any number of reasons:

Chauncey Billups and Denver, the tattooed love boys of Colorado, who will push every opponent to the limit; San Antonio making one last Alamo stand, McDyess, Jefferson and Blair rising up alongside the aging but still killer in a short series nucleus of Duncan/Parker/Ginobili; eighth seed Houston-Portland-New Orleans or Memphis throwing a scare into LA while everyone bitches that all aforementioned above .500 squads should make it in while the pathetic Eastern back-of-the-bus teams make it in with lousy records; Rondo putting Boston on his Kentucky back and taking those old legs as far as they can go; Vince Carter on the spot with his career on the line, knowing he'll be tabbed as nothing less than a perennial failure if Orlando doesn't make it back to the Finals; and Cleveland, the current pick to Go All The Way, with the incumbent pressure to satiate their leader LeBron into staying with only a title fitting the bill...bring it on already.

Finally --- although it could have gone on forever as far as I'm concerned --- the first round of the 2009 NBA Playoffs is in the books. Like March Madness' first four days, Round One on the senior circuit is as good as it gets.

That said, and in honor of Spinal Tap's Unplugged & Unwigged Tour, here are the Top 11 Reasons To Love The First Round ...

11) Ray "The Replicant" Allen. It's clear this man is physiologically incapable of sweating. Congressional hearings should convene immediately. Seriously ... whether draining 51 in Game Six or fouling out in Game Four, the man DOES NOT VISIBLY PERSPIRE. Talk about ice water in the veins. Saying He's Got Game is one of the great understatements in cinematic history.

10) Chauncey Billups. A man on a mission, sending a nightly Candygram to Joe Dumars while guiding Denver to a withering beatdown of Chris Paul's overmatched Hornets, Billups remains Mr. Big Shot. His coup de grace was leading his team to a 58-point spread over New Orleans in Game Four. Yes, in case you missed it, 58 points, more than Billups' alma mater Detroit could manage through three quarters nearly every night during their humiliating trouncing at the hands of the Cavaliers, which was over so long ago Allen Iverson's back healed in the meantime.

9) Ron Artest, who, despite helping the Rockets out of the first round, made a colossal ass of himself during a TNT segment that should be put in a time capsule, dissing everyone from Kobe Bryant to Charles Barkley. Still, if he is somehow able to neutralize Kobe and make Round Two competitive, he will redeem himself and not look like a guy who's one CNN update from being the next Michael Vick.

8) Dallas Mavericks. Out of nowhere, Dirk Nowitzki and Josh Howard fly under the radar and maul the Spurs, the preeminent unappreciated sports franchise of the last decade. Winning two on the road and closing in five, Dallas is ready to give Denver, and possibly LA, everything they can handle. Watch out.

7) Joey Crawford. Rebounding from his infamous flipout at Tim Duncan years ago, Crawford, the 21st Century version of Mendy Rudolph, was lead dog in easily the most intense game of the playoffs thus far, Game Six in Chicago v. Boston. Stifling the early incendiary incident between Rajon Rondo and Kirk Hinrich, coming on the heels of Rondo's facial to Brad Miller at the end of Game Five, the bulletheaded Crawford proved again why he is The Man in the striped shirt.

6) Pau Gasol. This guy is just getting warmed up, still smarting from the heat of the LA media for his "soft" performance last year against The Celtics. Put aside the fact Andrew Bynum was in civvies while Pau had to handle KG, Perkins and Davis in the paint with Lamar Odom's head in the sand. Gasol is, like Kobe and Lamar, on a mission this year. Don't bet against them.

5) Monkey Off The Back in Houston and Atlanta. Congrats to Yao and Joe Johnson for leading their franchises out of the first round for the first time in a long time. While they remain the two lowest-seeded teams left in the playoffs, Yao and Johnson are both outstanding players at the heart of a team concept in both locker rooms. Kobe and LeBron are on deck for their respective teams, but don't think Houston nor Atlanta are just happy to be there; they will compete.

4) Orlando Magic. Despite their first-round win over Philly in six, the issue remains, as one Sixer said, that they appear better WITHOUT Superman. That's because Howard remains a defensive menace, rebounding monster yet an offensive liability, who stops the flow when the ball goes into him on the block. Lewis, Turkoglu and Alston all look liberated without him, and Howard's twofer in Game Five where he elbowed Samuel Dalembert and took out his own man Courtney Lee in just minutes left observers wondering how high Clark Kent can really fly when it matters.

3) Eddie House. He's come a long way from Mike D'Antoni's doghouse in Phoenix. His Game Seven performance was Big Time, going five for five from downtown, igniting the Celtic Faithful and atoning for Rajon Rondo's sins at the foul line.

2) Chicago Bulls. Derrick Rose singlehandedly made a mockery of David Stern's hapless one-and-done rule, turning in a better rookie year than Michael Jordan. Noah, Salmons, Hinrich et.al. were simply inspiring, in one of the most intense series in league history, while Ben Gordon took it to another level. Here's hoping he stays in Chicago (after the incredibly dumb move of turning down their filthy lucre a year ago) just to keep this key franchise coming.

And last but not least ...
1) LeBron James. As the LA Times' sage NBA columnist Mark Heisler wrote of the Cavs-Pistons series midway through, "Is this really necessary?" No, it wasn't, except to serve notice to the rest of the league that this very much looks like LBJ's year, and a great shot at The Mistake By The Lake's first title in contemporary sports history. He's the MVP but that's chickenfeed to him. The main course lies ahead when Cleveland and the Lakers collide in the Finals.

Bring on Round Two.

At last spring has sprung and the NBA Playoffs are here! It's been like waiting for JJ Cale tour dates ... excruciating. My favorite 70-year-old recently issued his 26th album, per Wikipedia. (Hell, they must be counting bootlegs because I have 'em all and by my count they number about half that but, hey, who am I to question Wikipedia.) "Roll On" is the same record he's made for decades but they're all great so go buy it immediately. He is a genius and you owe it to yourself if you like the electric guitar (which should leave no one out).

Sir Cale started his brief Western tour with two dates at McCabe's Guitar Shop in Santa Monica, capacity 150 or so, and of course your humble narrator was there both nights. After the Friday warmup gig, where I found myself seated beside actor Bruce Greenwood with Harry Dean Stanton a few rows behind (remember his "embrace confrontation" speech in "Repo Man?" The inspirational last gasp of political incorrectness, courtesy of Alex Cox).

Night two, after three numbers JJ says, "Got a couple friends who are gonna join us," and down the McCabe's upstairs steps come Tom Petty AND his ace lead gee-tar man Mike Campbell, who spent the next hour or so supplementing the quietly rockin' Cale band for any number of hits including "After Midnight," "Cocaine" and my personal favorite, "Tijuana" (sample lyric: "Hey Mister, will you take us 'cross the border, we'll work for just a quarter.") Talk about your money's worth for a twenty buck ticket.

Anyway, The Playoffs.

We all love predictions, which are usually as far off base as the Yankees' christening of the new Stadium with a nine-run Cleveland seventh inning. (What a "stretch" that must have been for Bronx Bomber faithful; thanks to the metal detectors, a collective seppuku was narrowly avoided.)

So let's get to it, and yes, I reserve the right to redo my picks after the first round.

From the top, Lakers over Cavs in six. Of course, this seems like King James' year but Bryant IS the new MJ, with a will to win unparalleled in sports besides Tiger Woods'. And Pau Gasol will shed his soft label like snakeskin as he makes Z-Man and Anderson Varejao (easily the most annoying hairdo in sports history) look like Laurel and Hardy moving a piano.

Earlier, however, I see Cleveland, Boston, Miami and Orlando in round one of the East; LA, Houston, Dallas and Denver in the West. The best series will be Houston-Portland with a young talented Trail Blazer team feeding off Rose Garden mania to extend it to seven, but the big Chairman Yao and McMurphy Artest will take care of business in the end and prevail.

In the East, well, as morbid as it sounds everybody is thinking it and somebody has to say it: Did Danny Ainge suffer a heart attack when he heard the KG news? Poor guy. Still, Danny can never be an entirely sympathetic figure in the unforgettable wake of his infamous moment as a Sun when he fired a fastball into Mario Elie's face on an inbounds play during a playoff Rocket series. Not to kick a guy when he's down but just sayin' ...

The Billups-Paul faceoff should be entertaining as well. Expect Mr. Big Shot to be fueled not only by the results of the catastrophically lopsided AI-CB regular-season deal results but his seeing Detroit's imminent, inevitable humiliation at the hands of the Cavs. Go Chauncey. Not to mention C-Anthony has a LOT to prove in the post. Few Orangemen have made an impact in the NBA, so it's about time somebody does. Sorry, Jonny Flynn --- and I hope you prove me wrong --- but I see your pro career mirroring Illini Dee Brown's. Then we have the Denver-Dallas tossup. I'll stick with the Nuggets due to the altitude factor (seriously).

Cleveland edges Orlando in the East finals and Lord Stern's ear-to-ear grin foretells record Nielsen numbers topping last year's old school BOS-LAX series. Kobe avenges his regular-season MVP loss to LBJ with the more important playoff honor, not to mention his first ring without Shaq, getting that Big Aristotle monkey off his back.

While not a fan, I have only immense respect and fear of Jellybean Bryant's offspring. Kobe Bryant will not be denied at crunch time.

Forget about Dr. Buss, Mitch Kupchak and even Action Jackson; this guy wants to, needs to, MUST prove himself to three people: Magic Johnson, Jerry West and The Wife, not necessarily in that order. He now has a better supporting cast than Jordan ever had, playing against a higher grade of evolutionary competition, and he will amass multiple rings in the fourth quarter of his astonishing career.

He sure ain't lovable, but he is the best there is, and you can only sit back and enjoy the ride of a pure hoop aesthete at the peak of his powers. Just remember the Lakers' back-to-back road whipping posts in Boston and Cleveland, without Bynum (Kupchak's second greatest move next to the Gasol Rock 'N' Roll Swindle).

Home court won't mean Jack, because Joker Jack Nicholson will be riding higher than JJ Cale in June when his boys bring it on home. Five Easy Pieces indeed.

At last, the NBA Playoffs are here!

Unfortunately for me, a Piston fan who was rooting for the lottery, my boys choked their way into a quick brooming from the Cavs, who are on fire and will show no mercy.

The great LBJ, who broke Detroit's will two years ago with his Game 5 ballroom blitz, driving the lane at will while Rasheed Wallace et.al. stood by and watched him own the paint like a man among boys (where was Rick "Clothesline" Mahorn when I needed him?!), will decimate Detroit in four, five max. (Will The Thrill Bynum just MIGHT go wild one night. This is what it has come to for Piston faithful, counting on a guy who didn't even PLAY the first half of the season thanks to Curry's Alice in Wonderland rotation and the AI debacle).

Like their hometown, the Pistons need a bailout more than GM. Yes, Joe Dumars has cleared lotsa cap space so he can get ... who??? Carlos Boozer? Well, at least he has a post game.

It remains one of the great mysteries in sport why Dumars, Flip Saunders, Michael Curry (certainly one of the worst rookie coaches in history), Dave Cowens and even Mike Abdenour have allowed Wallace to devolve into a three-point line bystander. A guy who used to be a dominant low-post animal is now heaving up half his shots a game (I read the box every night) from 25 or more.

Can't anybody tell this multi-millionaire to GET IN THE GD PAINT and operate?! Apparently not. And Piston Nation (sic) was hardly surprised by the predictably sour finish to Monday's pivotal showdown with the Bulls, a date with peaking Cleveland or banged-up Boston at stake. At the Palace nonetheless.

Wallace, like Karl Malone, neither of whom made an end-of-game playoff bucket in his career, gets the ball with five on the clock, down by two, and heaves an airball three when he had ten feet open in front of him to launch an easier shot to tie and send it to OT. Antonio McDyess, easily the team's MVP this year who needs to have his head examined for not signing with Boston after clearing Denver waivers, got stuck with the loose ball and missed a tough angle corner shot while Sheed was probably conjuring up a new routine for his tiresome and now just plain offensive pre-game dance-circle jive ritual.

While I can't argue with Dumars' dumping Mr. Big Shot Billups in the spirit of Branch Rickey's "better to trade him a year early than a year late" philosophy, the Pistons are a gutless embarrassment. This was illustrated shortly after the passing of benevolent owner Bill Davidson, whose money PAID these clowns. The Motor City Badmen responded to Mr. D's death with an inexplicable loss at home to ... Memphis. Maybe dumbass Curry should have screened the tape of Bobby Murcer knocking it out of the park to beat the Orioles after Thurman Munson's funeral. But he was probably too busy buying another heinous checkered suit while Darrell Walker was drawing up offensive schemes. Love ya, Darrell but don't recall you as a scoring machine.

God, I miss Flip Saunders, let alone Larry Brown, one of the greatest coaches in history (Bobcats over Lakers TWICE this year ... I rest my case).

With LB the Pistons would have beaten Cleveland and San Antonio in 2006 a year after their gutwrenching seven-game war with the Spurs. Sadly, for basketball purists everywhere, they became the last superstar-less team to win a title, reminiscent to me --- not to mention Phil Jackson --- of the selfless Willis Reed Knicks, before a slow descent into the maelstrom featuring regular-season domination and playoff abomination.

As for the rest of the playoffs, I'll break that down next time but, barring a KG resurrection, we're looking at a David Stern wet dream: Kobe v. LeBron, and I see the Lakers in six.

And living in LA as a Lakerhater, I should probably make plans to leave town in mid-June to avoid the nauseating spectacle of another parade down Figueroa.

But hey! You gotta love pros like Bryant, Gasol, Fisher. Not only do they not get dumbass Ts, they NEVER quit. Listening, Sheed?