Tuesday, 24 May 2011

No gas pedal in the dustbowl state

I close my eyes for a second and the Mavericks decide to pull a rabbit out of their hat. That had to be it, because a game that OKC had adrenaline pumping through their jerseys and the raucous crowd ready to drill through the core of the earth to fashion thunder from liquid hot magma… well, no, a major comeback by the Mavs could never happen. Could it?

Dirk dropped four-zero like he was shopping for after dinner entertainment. Ain’t no thang to lean back and drill fadeaways that are seemingly pre-natal instincts for the NBA’s most amazing big man. Dirk-a-dirk. Or maybe it was Jason Kidd stealing and dishing dimes like he was on Suns, Nets, or… Mavs? Mavs, the team that drafted and err, traded him to be the floor-general. And he was last night.

Yes, Mavs, the team that plays as a team, passing, sticking together, locking down for key defensive stops, that rallies around a solid-but-never-great coach who focuses them to just win. And owner that displays his brass balls like another outside-the-box owner of different sport, except he's more genius than loon. Just win baby, just win.

There were signs this could happen, as improbably and stunning the comeback was. At the start, the Thunder exploded early, but the Mavericks hung around, and hung around some more through great OKC bench play. Brendan Haywood played like the starter he thinks he is and the Mavs’ depth and size kept OKC reaching deep into theirs for freshness.

Gas pedal nowhere to be found in the dustbowl state. The Dallas Mark Cubans up tres - uno.

Now the question tickles your brain: can either of these western gunslingers shoot out the old-school-brain-battering-body-shattering-nineties-defense of the Miami Heat or if somehow Poseidon were to rise from Atlantis, the Chicago Bulls?

I’m still picking the Mavs because they deserve the win and they play the most beautiful, fluid, team-oriented ball in the league. But the Heat have stumbled onto the age old formula of lock ‘em down, and have a dependable men to knock ‘em down. With LeBron determined like Rockefeller on an oil expedition and Wade a rampaging bull with blood in his eyes… and oh, Bosh playing like an attacking raptor (grow ya hair out again!) on the boards and spinning shots away from the post, who can stop the sun from rising anew in the east?

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