The Steve Kerr Moment

The Steve Kerr moment exists wherever Steve Kerr exists. 

The 2015 NBA Playoffs start today:

I woke up this morning singing like a little kid. My lyrics went something like: "It's the Playoffs. There's a payoff. It sounds like Superman. But it's Tim Duncan man. He's coming to dunk all over your town!" Then I quickly made fun of Blake Griffin for being a sissy. It made no sense. It was awful. My wife wished she was deaf. I don't care. I'm excited. This is my favorite sporting event. I love the games. I love the TNT ad slogans and Hollywood-NBA mash-up ad campaigns. I love the rampant Twitter feeds. I love the weaving and unraveling of narratives. I love it all. For in my mind, it's as otherworldly as two mythic beasts colliding in epic fashion on the big screen:



Washington @ Toronto (12:30 Saturday)

NBA MVP Links: Stephen Curry & Anthony Davis

This week, I've been keeping late nights reading and writing and grading. Okay, mostly I've just been grading. Anyway, here are some links to some recent pieces I've done over at ESPN TrueHoop's BallerBall on the MVP debate:

In hindsight, the 2009 NBA Draft is full of what if moments. Going into the night, everyone knew Blake Griffin would be selected number one overall by the Clippers. The number two pick was Hasheem Thabeet, chosen by the Memphis Grizz. Then the Thunder chose James Harden. The King picked Tyreke Evans. For the most part, all of these picks made sense at the time, although Memphis whiffed terribly on the Thabeet pick. (Imagine what a Grizz triumvirate of Z-Bo, Marc Gasol, and Harden could have accomplished.) And then there's what Minnesota did, which was inexplicable at the time and has become even more so. The Timberwolves front office, led by David Khan, selected not one but two point guards ahead of Stephen Curry. First, the team took Ricky Rubio. Second, the team selected Jonny Flynn. Golden State then snatched up Stephen Curry. And, if not for Harden, then the best player of the 2009 Draft class would undeniably be the little guard that could from Davidson.

Number of the Day: Monta Ellis' 39.7

As in the 39.7 ppg the Golden State guard averaged over the course of the last seven days in which he was named Western Conference Player of the Week.  Ellis' lines from the past week:

Golden State Warriors Put Stephen Jackson on the Block: "Office at Night"

We will continue to view the NBA season through the eyes of Edward Hopper. Feel free to add your thoughts on the 2010 Warriors in our comments section.The metal of the file cabinet feels cold against the palm of her hand, like a flagpole in December. She reaches further into the drawer, searching for the warmth of manilla folders and green hanging binders. Her fingerprints shuffle through the contents of the cabinet, making the sounds of boots through snow, and her palm leaves a smudge on the outside of the drawer, like breath on a window in winter, when she lifts it. She looks over at her boss, sitting at his desk made from cedar and thinks to herself, "God dammit, look over here. I didn't wear this blue dress today for nothing. Look over here, you fat, old man. " Ms. Anthony Randolph has played this game of cat and mouse for a little over a year now, wearing sweaters that hug her like an x-ray, swaying her hips like wisps of willow, and leaning over Mr. Don Nelson's desk like a crane with cleavage, but the old man pays no mind, causing Ms. Randolph to think, "what's a woman got to do to get ahead in this place?" She notices Mr. Nelson's hand shake. The letter he clasps begins to rattle in his fingers like a china tea cup, sitting on a saucer, with a spoon it, during an earthquake. She takes a half step towards the desk, treading lightly, and leans in with her right shoulder. The letter reads:

Dear Mr. Nelson,

I'm sick of you. I'm sick of your company. I want to blow the whole place to kingdom come, and I will, if you don't move me to another branch, in another city, as soon as possible. I've looked into your eyes, and I've seen your soul; and I pity its glassy coldness, you f#ckin' wretch of a man.

Sincerely,

Stephen Jackson

PS I better never hear you call me Captain Jack, or any other faggot pirate name, behind my back again.

Ms. Randolph stands with her jaw hanging lower than a low cut sweater. She's only had one direct encounter with Stephen Jackson, but it was enough to let her know that the contents of this letter should be taken seriously. Her second week at work, Ms. Randolph stayed late revising the company's file system when smoke began to creep from underneath the door to Jackson's office. At first, the smoke exited the room in strands as thin as the hairs on an old man's head, but the smoke continued to grow positive increments until one was forced to assume that Jackson's office was indeed an oven with a burn pot roast trapped in its belly. Ms. Randolph ran to the door and knocked on it, "Mr. Jackson...Mr. Jackson! are you alright? Is everything okay?"

"No, everything is not alright. The damn door won't open."

Ms. Randolph, using the the folds of her dress like a hot pad, grabbed the brass door knob and turned it, opening the door with an ease that suggested the door had not been jammed shut or locked at all. Inside the office, in the midst of an inferno of smoke, Mr. Jackson kneeled on his knees, chest bare and pantless, a metal trash can hiding his crotch, singing, "Come on , baby, light my fire!" In the trash can, Jackson fanned all the paper contents of his office as they burned into oblivion. Now, as Ms. Randolph reads the letter in Mr. Nelson's hands, all she can picture are the flames from the trash can reflected in the pupils of Mr. Jackson.

Ms. Randolph takes a half step back and pivots toward the file cabinet, pressing her palms against it, to feel its coolness, and she can not help but notice that sweat runs down Mr. Nelson's forehead, as if he were wild boar, rotating over a fire with an apple in his mouth. The buzz of the intercom interrupts the silence of the room, "bzzzzzzzz. Mr. Nelson, there is a man picketing outside the building."

"Is it Jackson?"

"I don't believe so, sir. He's holding a sign that says, 'HELLO, WORLD, MY NAME'S ELLIS, AND I'M TIRED OF TAKING THE BLAME FOR YOUR SINS! 2012 APPROACHES!!!'"

Mr. Nelson takes a moment to respond and then summons the strength to utter, "I'll be right down." His voice is not convincing that he will be right down, and he wallows in his desk chair for minutes that weigh like years. Then he rises from his chair, takes in a deep breath, lifts his shoulders to the sky, and buttons the top button of his sports jacket. "Ms. Randolph, could you be so kind as to file this letter under 'J.' I trust that you will keep its contents a secret." He hands her the letter and walks out of his office, with the stubbornness of a pig, pretending its destiny is something other than sausage, ham, or bacon.

Ms. Randolph opens the file cabinet and places the letter in the 'J' folder, using her index finger to open up enough space in the folder to insert the letter. When she withdraws her finger, the folder becomes a razor against her skin, and a drop of blood lands on the Jackson letter, looking like the slush caused by a snowflake falling on a sidewalk that is no longer below freezing.

Number of the Weekend: Brandon Jennings Nets 55

I guess there's more to Italy than pasta, wine, beautiful women, and stereotypes. Is the Rookie of the Year competition officially over now?

By the way, Jennings' 55 points is tied for 15th for most points in a single game by active players (click here for the all time list):

1. Kobe 81

2. Kobe 65

3. Kobe, T-Mac 62

5. Kobe, Shaq 61

7. Kobe, Arenas, AI 60

10. Kobe, AI 58

12. Michael Redd 57

13. Kobe, LeBron 56

15. Brandon Jennings, Wade, LeBron, Tony Parker, Jermaine O'Neal, Kobe 55

The number of the day is:

12, as in twelve different players scored in double digits during last nights game between the Lakers and Warriors at the Oracle Arena in Oakland. The Warriors were led by Cory Maggette, Steven Jackson and Jamal Crawford with the latter scoring 23 and the other two dropping 24 points each. Joining them with double digits scoring for the Warriors were Monta Ellis(15), Anthony Randolph (career high 14), and former Laker Ronny Turiaf (14 points). Thanks to their frenetically paced offensive attack they managed to push the Lakers to the brink leading the by as much as 12 and holding the lead over the Lakers from the middle of the first through much of the fourth.

The Lakers got hot in the fourth going on a 17-3 run thanks to back-to-back threes from Trevor Ariza and twelve points from reigning league MVP Kobe Bryant. Lamar Odom continued his fantastic play of late, scoring 22 points and grabbing 7 rebounds. Surprisingly Josh Powell scored 17 points and grabbed 7 boards off the bench, his break-out game of the season can most likely be attributed to the news of the Chris Mihm trade to Memphis for a future 2nd round pick which will boost his playing time greatly. Already mentioned Trevor Ariza dropped 17 off the bench, hitting 7-12 field goals and 3-5 from downtown. Pau was his usual awesome self; scoring 24 points, 13 rebounds, and 5 assists. Derek Fisher continues to be dangerous from deep, scoring all 12 of his points on 4-7 shooting. But what about the reigning league MVP? Although he had a rough shooting night (9-22), the crowd praised his performance with an MVP chant in the waining moments of the game. Bryant ended with 30 points, but also added 9 assists and 2 amazing blocks. In the end the Warriors offensive attack wasn't enough as the Lakers prevailed 129-121.

The loss moves the Warriors record to 19-36, and 12 games out from the 8th seed. Its a good thing these Warriors have no shot at the playoffs, because this would be the last team the Lakers would want to face in the first round on the playoffs. There next game is Saturday against the improving Oklahoma City Thunder. With the win the Lakers remain with the best record in the L at 44-10, the third best start in Laker history. There next game in Friday in Los Angeles, where they face off with the Hornets. The game can be seen on ESPN at 10:30.