American Idol Judges the NBA's Eastern Conference Playoffs

Ryan Seacrest: We're down to sixteen contestants and breaking it all down for us tonight will be our three judges, offering up their best advice and critiques of the eight teams representing the League's Eastern Conference.

Southeast Division Profiles: Dwight, the Dog Walker

Russ previewed the entire Southeast Division earlier in the week, and to go along with that, here's a fictional profile of Dwight Howard:

On the horizon to any Saturday morning coffee sipper who happens to peak over the ledge of his or her newspaper, Dwight Howard's body rises like a great wooden mast, and the leashes that run out from his hands resemble the knots and grids of a ship's riggings, as he sails across the crosswalk.

NBA Preview Part 3: Southeast Division

NBA preview continues with part 3 and the Southeast Division.

1)  Orlando Magic
Last Year: 59-23, lost in Eastern Conference Finals
Additions: Chris Duhon, Quentin Richardson,
Subtractions: Matt Barnes

The Magic have been a Top 4 team in the NBA the past two seasons and for the foreseeable will a team to contend with, but will they ever have what it takes to get over the hump?  They dominated the last part of last season, winning 27 of their last 34 games and dominating the first two rounds of the playoffs against Charlotte and Atlanta.  But if a team has a big man that can defend Dwight Howard one on one,  like Boston could with Kendrick Perkins, then the offense crumbles around Howard.  Howard is not offensively skilled enough at this point in his career to carry a team on his shoulders unless he can just overpower the opposing front line. If he can't demand a double team, the Magic have a hard time scoring against the elite.  The defense will always be elite with Howard guarding the rim and Stan Van Gundy's ability to coach defense.  But until Howard develops an offensive repertoire beyond dunking, the Magic will have a difficult time getting over the hump, espeically with aging players like Vince Carter and Rashard Lewis on the perimeter. Howard is still young, but he is also entering his seventh season.  Have we seen the best he can offer on offense?
Prediction: 54-28, 4th place


2)  Atlanta Hawks
Last Year: 53-29, 1st round exit
They virtually have the same team as last season, no major additions or subtractions


The Atlanta Hawks are basically in the same position the Wizards were two years ago.  The Hawks have maxed out what they can get out of this roster and were put in a terrible position to sign their top player Joe Johnson (Gilbert Arenas) in order to show that the Hawks were serious about winning, even if it would cripple the franchise financially long-term. In what was easily the worst contract this offseason, the Hawks signed a good player to max money, with Johnson receiving 124 million in a 6 year deal (Gilbert Arenas received an extension worth 6 years 111 million). The Hawks have a solid core of good players, but lack the superstar power needed to a serious threat in a revamped Eastern Conference, with little flexibility to improve the team in the future.  They also had everything go right injury wise last year, and that is bound to not happen this season.  They won't win as many as this year in reaching the playoffs, and they will lose in the first round.
Prediction: 47-35 6th place


3)  Miami Heat
Last Year: 47-35, 1st round exit
Additions: Lebron James, Chris Bosh, Mike Miller, Zydrunas Ilgauskas, Eddie House
Subtractions: Michael Beasley, Jermaine O'Neal, Quentin Richardson, Daquan Cook, Dorell Wright

Unless you are living under a rock, you know about the productive offseason the Miami Heat had.  They have 3 of the top 10 best players in the NBA on one team. They will be unstoppable on offense in both the half court and in transition.  But their success is not guaranteed like most everyone predicts.  They still don't know who is playing center from the litter of veterans they signed in the offseason and a series against the Magic and Dwight Howard will pose quite the mismatch.  And as the preseason has already shown injuries to any of the Big 3 could slow down this juggernaut.  With that said, I expect the Heat to get the number 1 seed and to win the Eastern Conference.  They won't challenge for 70 wins because they will rest their players once they lock up a one seed, but 60 wins or more seems likely.
Prediction: 65-17 1st place 


4)  Charlotte Bobcats
Last Year: 44-38, 1st round exit
Additions: Shaun Livingston, Kwame Brown, Sherron Collins
Subtractions: Raymond Felton, Tyson Chandler, Larry Hughes

I don't really know how this flawed lineup made the playoffs last year, which is a testament to Larry Brown's ability to get the best out of his players.  But the roster moves made by Michael Jordan and Brown over the offseason leaves me scratching my head and the team much worse off .  They decided to part ways with Ray Felton for monetary reasons, but did not find a viable replacement and will have either Shaun Livingston or DJ Augustin as the starting point guard.  They traded Tyson Chandler for nothing but cap relief from the luxury tax, leaving them with Nazr Mohammad and DeSagana Diop at center.  They have two decent scoring options in Gerald Wallace and Stephen Jackson, one promising young player in Tyrus Thomas, an overweight Boris Diaw, and then huge question marks.  Not good.  They don't make the playoffs this year.
Prediction: 36-46

5)  Washington Wizards
Last Year: 26-56
Additions: John Wall, Kirk Hinrich, Yi Jianlian
Subtractions: Mike Miller, Randy Foye, Quinton Ross

This is my surprise team in the Eastern Conference.  I will simply give my three reasons for why they make the playoffs this year.

1)  Youth Movement. Out with the old, in with the new. John Wall will provide off the charts athleticism at the point guard position with the ability to blow by defenders and create easy opportunities for teammates inside and out.  Andray Blatche had his best numbers last season with 15 and 6 in 27 minutes per game, displaying huge progress as a scorer. JaVale McGee is a young and improving center that will be relied on heavily for his shot blocking, rebounding, and ability to finish around the rim.

2)  Focus:  From the death of Abe Pollin and subsequent ownership change, to Gilbert's legal issues, to the trading of Jamison, Haywood, and Butler, there were huge distractions throughout last season where the team was answering more questions about news off the court than the play on the court.  It was a huge burden and it showed with a 26 win season.  With a new season comes the breath of fresh air of the John Wall era. With the maturity gained by the young players on last year's team, the influx of new players, and a coach who will be able to coach and not babysit, you will see a more focused Wizard team with more consistent energy and effort each and every game.

3)  Eastern Conference.  Even though the Heat and the Bulls got stronger, they were already playoff teams last year.  After the Heat, Celtics, Magic, and Bulls, the rest of the east is pretty wide open.  The Cavs, Bobcats, and Raptors will be much worse. Only the Knicks and the Nets are going to be leaps and bounds better.  The last 2-3 spots have the potential to be filled by the unexpected.
Prediction: 42-40 7th place 1st round exit

LCB Hoops Picks: Eastern Conference Finals

On Thursday the Celtics shocked the World by knocking off King James and his minions, setting the match-ups for the Conference Finals. In keeping with tradition, we're back to make our selections for the teams that will move on to the Championship. However with Berndon still getting acclimated to life at the Beach, you only have the word of Langston to ready you for this rematch of last years conference semifinals.

Orlando Magic Preview: "Western Hotel"

In an effort to gear up for the NBA season, we will view the upcoming season through the eyes of Edward Hopper. Feel free to add your thoughts on the 2010 Magic in our comments section.Ms. Carter sits in the hotel room like a Venus fly trap. She is a snare for men's passions, laid out on a bed, or draped over a chair, like a sports jacket. She is something for them to put on, to impress and strut in front of the mirror with, like peacocks, with their plumes erect.

And the fact that most men are willing to treat a hotel, from lobby to bar and lounge to restaurant table, like a stretch of barnyard, in need of a rooster, makes Ms. Carter's job all the easier, like a cool autumn morning, in Niagara, or a weekend trip to Atlantic City, in Jersey. Ms. Carter runs the trick with a brutal consistency. She saunters into the cocktail lounge; a picture of grace. She times her entrance with precision, making sure her stride cuts into the path of the busboy's at a wrong angle. The scalpel snips an artery as it makes its incision, and blood spills onto the floor, splashing on the tiles like the clanging of silverware and the breaking of plates and the contents of a woman's purse. A tube of lipstick rolls across the floor, striking a man's brown dress shoe. The fly is in the ointment.

Stan Van Gundy stoops to pick up the lip stick. He glances at it, as if he just found a quarter heads up. He takes a few steps forward and squats, resting his elbows on his knees. Despite his porn star mustache, he resembles a prince trapped inside the body of a frog, and, with more grace than one would expect, he croaks, "I believe you dropped this."

"Oh, thank you. I saw him coming, but I thought I could just step in front of him real quick. On my way to the bar."

Van Gundy waves to the bar tender, "And whatever it was you needed from the bar is on me."

"Oh, thank you. I'll have a margarita. I am parched."

Van Gundy smiles like a meat cleaver, "A margarita it is." The two order several more drinks over the next three hours. For the first two, Ms. Carter orders margarita after margarita, and Van Gundy orders scotch on the rocks after scotch on the rocks. They spend the last hour sipping beers. Beads of water soak into the coasters like droplets of blood into butcher paper. Van Gundy's hands shakes ever so slightly, and he remembers how is brother Jeff always teased him about being squeamish at the sight of blood. He lets out an awkward laugh; after all, these are drops of water, not even red.

"Yeah, it's a real shame how one can be married for so long, wake up, roll over, and find the bed empty. She left me a note, saying, 'Gone to the beauty parlor. Back by five with your boss Mr. Riley. You better be gone. Make sure you change the sheets.' Saddest day of my life. But without it. You and I wouldn't be here. Would we?" He caresses her hand, and Ms. Carter grins like a needle closing a cut. The fact that she's even listening gives Van Gundy the confidence to ask, "Care for a dance?"

Ms. Carter takes her bow, "Sure," and then commences to lead Van Gundy from the table, through the dance floor, and up to her room. When she lets her dress fall to the floor, Van Gundy feels like he just moved to the top of the organ donor's list, but, just like in surgery, a lot can change in just a few minutes. Still, some things remain the same for eternity. Giving a man a new heart does not grant him immortality, and, outside the realm of fantasy, a tadpole becomes a frog; but a frog stays a frog.

After a little more than just kissing refuses to transform Van Gundy into a prince, he hops off the bed and into the bathroom, not even grabbing an undershirt or a pair of boxers. For the first time in his life, Stan Van Gundy is comfortable with his warts exposed. He lifts the lid of the toilet for his postcoital piss. Then he pauses as the shower curtain is flung back, revealing a large, grizzled man, with an afro, holding a gun. Van Gundy's fear does not cause him to wet himself, but, instead, not have to use the bathroom at all.

"How's it going, Stan? Don't mind me. Do what you have to do."

"Wuh wuh what ah ahh ah are yoo yoo you duh doing here? Hoo hoo who are you?"

"My name's Vince," says the man in the bathtub, raising the gun to Van Gundy's face. Most men might have run or even tried to resist, but Stan Van Gundy, the used car salesman, just turns his head towards the mirror, where he sees the reflected silhouette of a woman on the bed, taking a long drag from a cigarette. Then everything goes black, and his naked body crumples to the floor, like a toad underneath a car tire. Vince then precedes to step out of the bathtub, pull the shower curtain shut, and step over the body, on his way out the bathroom, careful to shut the door behind him.

"Put the cigarette out and grab his wallet."

"You sure you don't wanna have a go on the bed first, Vince?" cracks Ms. Carter, exhaling a mouthful of smoke, appearing as if she were outside in winter as opposed to sitting inside at room temperature. Vince turns away and heads for the door. He finds no pleasure in the choices he's made, only a means for survival. As he walks down the hallway, draped in maroon carpet, his feet beat against the floor like a pulse, and the blood on the bottom of his shoes seeps into the carpet, making unnoticeable stains. When he arrives at the stairwell, he thinks, "Coming home was supposed to change me. It was supposed to make me good again." Ms. Carter rubs the cigarette out on the nightstand, gets dressed, and follows Vince's thuds down the hallway. Her own steps fall like snowflakes, and her face resembles a doctor's after surgery--cold, alert, and ready for the next patient.

The Ever-Changing NBA Landscape, from the Old West to the Shifting of Tectonic Plates

The original idea was to label the above photo, in all its black and white macabre glory as the grave marker for the last decade of NBA basketball. I even had two extended metaphors I planned on using. The first one, since I found the above picture to resemble a tombstone, compared the NBA to the wild west, with Tim Duncan as the straight-shooting Wyatt Earp andShaquille O'Neal as the always witty and physically ailing Doc Holiday. Instead of painting the two big men as rivals, I wanted to paint them as fighting the good fight, together, against theClanton's and McLaury's. In other words, I wanted to paint the last decade as the gunfight at the O.K. Corral, with these two making the last stand for the traditional center everywhere, before rail roads, fences, and the automobile ate up so much land that the court became too small for these Ice Aged mammals and fell into the hands of guards and wingmen that like small rodents are more flash than substance. I wanted to show that Duncan and Shaq needed one another, even if, like Earp and Holiday, they were on opposite sides of the law.

But I threw out that idea when I started watching The History Channel in heavy doses. Shaqand Duncan are not Earp and Holiday. They are bitter rivals, forced to battle with one another because of their proximity on the League's timeline. They are a woolly mammoth and a saber tooth tiger.

In the last decade, interest in the NBA froze, as seen by the frosty TV ratings of the NBA Finals. While Shaq roamed the Arctic tundra with Duncan clawing at his flesh, casual sports fans, like elementary schoolers visiting the Smithsonian just wanted to see the dinosaur exhibits. The casual fan couldn't get over the idea that Jordan as T-Rex would dominate a woolly mammoth and a saber tooth tiger, not thinking about the fact that a T-Rex would never survive in sub-freezing temperatures. I thought this metaphor of the last decade as a slow-moving glacier carving out the League's future was as good as fossilized and then a few things happened:

namely the economy, volcanic eruptions, and a sputtering of ideas....

This past season trade rumors flew, but nothing happened other than the Detroit-Denver trade that sent AI to Detroit and Billups to Denver. It was like a poker game where no one ups the ante. It would not have been surprising to hear that NBA owners were hiding cash under their mattresses and in lunch pales, buried in the backyard, afraid to take financial risks because of a bear market economy.

This willingness for so many teams to stand pat made it seem like the League was going to just wait for the Ice Age to thaw, especially when Cleveland decided not to trade for Shaq and San Antonio chose not to acquire Richard Jefferson or Vince Carter. The lack of action at the trade deadline made it appear that our two 7-foot cowboys were riding off into the sunset, but, as they rode out, someone yelled, "rape!" or "help! we're being robbed!" or "draw," followed by the sound of a pistol being cocked; and, at that moment, RC Buford decided that Tim Duncan needed another deputy to watch his back and traded two old horses and a mule for Richard Jefferson, who wins the award for always seeming younger than he really is. He's like the Cougar of the NBA; he looks 20, but he's pushing 30. He's also the Spurs hired gun.

Unfortunately, for Spurs fan, this gunfight appears to be outside the realm of Hollywood script writing. Buford was not the only one who heard time's pistol being cocked behind him. Steve Kerr also heard it, leading to Shaq the Woolly Mammoth's migration to Cleveland, which prompted the Magic to trade for Vince Carter, sending Hedo Turkoglu and Marcin Gortat back out into the wild. Then, the Detroit Pistons received verbal commitments from Ben Gordon and Charlie Villanueva, while their own Ice Age relic, Rasheed Wallace, desperately went in search of a way to keep his place in the NBA food chain as a relevant player on a championshipteam, and his search could land him anywhere from Boston to Cleveland to San Antonio. Zack Randolph was sent to the Grizzlies for Quentin Richardson, and, lastly, the Lakers appear to have struck a deal with Ron Artest, causing the Rockets to court Trevor Ariza. Too much is at work right now for this fight to boil down into one man versus another, in the middle of the street; there are too many pieces involved for it to be as simple as High Noon.

This offseason started off like a scene from the Old West but became a show and tell of how the world works like a card game, meaning that one card in a deck of 52 can dictate the destinies of several franchises all at once. The Spurs pushed their chips to the middle, like they were moving land masses, and traded all their front court depth for the chance to win one last hand. Then, one team after another called their bluff by pushing their chips into the middle as well. A gun fight tends to have only two sides to it. One man challenges another by saying, "draw." A gunfight comes down to two men, timing, and guts. Sometimes, before the gunfight, there is the preface of the poker game, which comes down to luck and a reading of temperaments.

This offseason is the last big hand of this poker game. The last two hands saw LA, San Antonio, Cleveland, Boston, Detroit, Orlando, Phoenix, and Houston sit around the poker table staring blankly at one another for well into the night. They're the usual players at the saloon's big money table, getting together like this every decade or so.

LA and Boston are the old money; they've been around forever, and their spots at the table are reserved until the day they die. San Antonio's been on a hot streak of late, winning enough of the old money that he has to be kept at the table to give the aristocrats a chance at winning it all back. Detroit's always been a steady player, never takes too much of a risk; when he stays in the game, one knows he's got a good hand--he never bluffs. Houston's the same way. Every time he stays, it's a calculated risk that anyone in their right mind would have taken. Orlando and Cleveland are new money. Everyone's watching them closely, just to see how they handle the pressures of finally getting seats at the big table, wondering if they're the new San Antonio or just another Sacramento. Lastly, there's Phoenix, and Phoenix is here because somebody always has to go out first; and Phoenix fills this role. Phoenix talks and drinks too much. Phoenix takes every raising of the stakes personally. Phoenix bets when he should fold and folds when he should bet.

All San Antonio's chips are on the table, but they are not the only ones playing this hand as if they were starving. Early in tonight's game, Phoenix put too much stock in a decent hand and lost almost everything. Now, in an effort to just hang around, Phoenix unbuckles his great grandfather's pocket watch and slides it across the table, his fingers tremble as they leave the gold watch next to Cleveland, and Cleveland responds by flicking a couple of chips Phoenix's way. The rest of the table eyes the transaction critically. First of all, they're all thinking Phoenix gave up the watch all too cheaply, and second of all, no one should be kept at the table who doesn't belong there; leave drunkards to the bottle and cattle rustlers to the gallows. Cleveland's given Phoenix false hope. Phoenix only has a pair of Aces, a club and a spade.

Detroit and Houston fold; all they have is the pair available off the flop. Boston's been here before; he matches San Antonio. He's got a flush. LA has a full house; he matches San Antonio. Orlando hesitates, but he then matches the other three; he's only got two pair. Cleveland matches; he's holding a three of a kind. All have a hand that justifies their confidence; but how many men at one table can lady luck kiss?

San Antonio, the dealer, burns one card, and then places his hand on the deck. The four community cards are a 10 of diamonds, a 10 of clubs, a Queen of diamonds, and a King of diamonds. San Antonio eyes the other players at the table and then looks at the two cards in his left hand, a Jack of diamonds and a four of clubs. San Antonio begins to lift the corner of the river, knowing that once turned it will either bring disastrous rapids or the ocean.

San Antonio feels the table shaking and looks down at the floor. The whole room is shaking from wall to wall. Lamps flicker and glass clinks together like rain drops on a tin roof. Outside, a man yells, "stampede!" not draw. A dust cloud consumes the view outside of the swinging saloon doors, and from the yellow storm comes the sound of growling and a loud pitched elephant's wail. A trunk flails about in the wind; it's woolly and covered with claw marks. Snow piles up at the door so high that the doors stop swinging. San Antonio realizes that it was never a dust cloud outside but a blizzard mixing snow with dirt. The card waits to be turned.

San Antonio begins to lift it from the deck when the back wall of the saloon melts into lava. Sparks fly, and a river of red and orange flows into the snow bank, melting it. Here in the saloon water meets fire, and the floor splits in two.

San Antonio, LA, Boston, Cleveland, and Orlando are on one side, and the NBA's 25 other teams reside on the other--the have's and the have not's. The have's use the poker table as a raft while the have not's melt like wax in the fire.

The world does this ever so often, breaking itself apart to make something new. Super-continents like Rodinia and Pangaea come together and then get ripped apart. Mountains fall into oceans and oceans pull back like bed sheets. Shaq moves west, then east, then west, and then east again, scarring North America with his feet like glaciers digging lakes. Tim Duncan's fate as the league's polar ice cap rests in the fate of a river card. Time's gun is cocked, and now it comes down to waiting for a kiss.

San Antonio needs the Ace of Diamonds. They have Tim Duncan, Tony Parker, Manu Ginobili, and Richard Jefferson, but they still need the fifth piece for their starting line up, whether it's Rasheed Wallace or Marcin Gortat. Otherwise, they will melt from the heat created by the preponderance of volcanic eruptions that hurtled five teams toward one another like tectonic plates and sunk the rest of the league into a sea of mediocrity.

The stillness at the trade deadline, during the season, was just the calm before the storm, and now the government, the banks, the investors, and those families that saved wisely are buying up assets. San Antonio fans, if this bold offseason doesn't buy back the family farm, then we're no better off than the Joad family, and we may share the same fate as those 25 other teams for a long time to come. We're no longer a player next offseason because of our financial obligations to Jefferson, and this offseason may just be a tremor compared with what's to come in the summer of 2010.

The last gasp of the Woolly Mammoth and Saber Tooth Tiger is upon us, and it promises to be one helluva a gun fight.