Our Lone Reader adopted the Cleveland Cavaliers as his team for this postseason--and presumably afterward, we dunno. His stated reason: Bron-Bron and the boys aren't merely a one man gig and play hard, team-oriented basketball.
I'll give you the "plays hard" part. But the Cavs are the single biggest one-man show outside of Los Angeles. When LeBron doesn't take over, they generally don't stand a chance. Remove him and you've got a try-hard lottery team.
(And this is, by no means, any knock on the kid's talent. He's clearly the real deal, even if, and I choke to write this, Bill Simmons correctly pointed out that his 48 pointer versus Detroit was great, but not in any league with, say, Magic opening in the pivot in the '80 Finals versus Philadelphia and racking up the following line: 42 points, 15 rebounds, 7 assists.)
Like tonight. Look at the guys on the floor right now--Anderson Varejao, Daniel Gibson, Donyell Marshall, Damon Jones and Bron-Bron. Behind LeBron, you have a few 10 pointer type efforts from Pavlovic, Gooden and Gibson, but that's a playoff fraud.
The basketball-watchin' element of the HoG has long held that these Cavaliers, and their Vaccaro-ordained superstar, are all hat and no cowboy. All hominy, no grits. Leaving aside the vast inferiority of the East--which, let's just admit, we can't really do--the Cavs have so far played a less-than-impressive slate. And don't start with "they beat the Pistons" because, even though I picked Detroit to win, that obviously wasn't the Larry Brown group that won the title a few years back. Rasheed was disintegrating, no one was playing team defense...No, that wasn't a title contender. That was a team coached by a grown man named Flip.
So, I'm pleased to announce, my toss-off pick of the Spurs is looking better and better, 103-92, Riverwalk Prickly Pear Margaritas over the Flaming Rivers of Toxic Filth. Go choke on a Milk Bone, Cleveland. This Denver fan doesn't feel your pain.
(That may have been petty, but eh.)
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