men's pro basketball

By GORDON MONSON
Salt Lake Tribune
Friday, May 11, 2007

Inspiration made an appearance during Wednesday night's Game 2 of the Utah Jazz-Golden State Warriors playoff series. It did more than appear, it blew in alongside a man suffering the unimaginable, and filled up an entire building. Emanating from him, it was felt everywhere, soaking into everything, working its wonders.

Accompanied by good fortune, too.

The Jazz used all of the above, in addition to some clutch play, to beat Golden State, 127-117, in overtime at EnergySolutions Arena.

The biggest of many big moments came when Derek Fisher hit a huge three from the left side at the 1:06 mark of OT to give the Jazz a six-point lead, finally separating two teams that had stuck and stuck and stuck to each other throughout.

If you believe in good karma coming to a deserving soul, this was an occasion for you.

Fisher, fresh off an airplane from New York, where he was with his family, with his young daughter, who is fighting cancer, it was revealed hours earlier, stepped through the tunnel to the court and was inserted directly into the game with just over three minutes left in the third quarter.

The place erupted.

His three-pointer, Fisher's only basket of the night, underscored a heart wrenching story _ one that shorted even buzzard-tough Jerry Sloan for words.

"He's gone through a lot the last few days,"

Sloan said, afterward. "That matters more than the game itself."

It was telling, indeed, that after a tough loss, putting Golden State in an 0-2 hole in the Western Conference semifinals, the Warriors walked over to Fisher, their former teammate, to embrace him on the court.

After that, if anyone cares about the game itself, here are some details: The Jazz outshot the Warriors by percentage, 53 percent to 42. They outrebounded them, 60 to 32. The Jazz had 31 assists to Golden State's 15.

How, then, was this thing so close?

Here's how: the Warriors made 15 threes to the Jazz's seven. And the Jazz suffered 23 turnovers.

At the end, none of those disadvantaged numbers mattered.

What mattered was that the Jazz found a way to fight back from a 112-107 deficit with just under a minute to play in regulation. After a cooler-than-cool shot by Deron Williams to tie the game with 2.3 seconds remaining, Davis missed a jumper.

OT was the result.

It stayed tight _ until Fisher's shot from beyond the arc, and beyond the realm.

The Jazz got help from a ridiculously large number of players. Six of them scored in double figures, including Boozer with 30, Mehmet Okur with 23, Andrei Kirilenko with 20, Deron Williams with 17, and Gordan Giricek and Paul Millsap with 10 each. The boards were spread around, as well.

It was as though all the Jazz were buoyed by Fisher, their suffering teammate, and his rejoining the fold. Taking what he brought them, along with more playoff lessons, from the importance of effort _ their work on the boards, resilience _ repeatedly, the Jazz forged a lead, only to have the Warriors charge back, toughness _ fighting back from their own deficit at the end, and poise _ that quality came in handy over and over.

One of the most fascinating and compelling aspects to the Jazz in these playoffs is their evolution. It might even be a revolution. They are rapidly changing, in a mostly positive direction, from week to week, even game to game, and, in this particular contest, quarter-by-quarter, possession by possession.

And they, themselves, have no clue, not with any exactness, how far that growth will take them, or where its upper limits are set. They seem to sense some kind of destiny, but who knows what sort?

All the Jazz know is they are on their way somewhere, and they were pleased _ and relieved _ to hang on in Game 2. And happy for the company

By BRUCE JENKINS
San Francisco Chronicle
Thursday, May 10, 2007

By game's end, Derek Fisher just wanted to reach out _ to anyone. After all the veteran Utah Jazz guard had been through, a soothing word from a fan or teammate would have sufficed. He had an even better option, though. Jason Richardson was standing right there.

Extending an arm to his good friend, former teammate and, at the moment, a beaten man, Fisher got a warm embrace in return. That's part of the Golden State Warriors' character _ seeing the bigger picture, recognizing heart and soul when it passes their way. Monta Ellis was there, too, hugging the man who turned Game 2 into a fairy tale win for the Jazz.

"Hugging those guys, that's something I never would have done normally _ not after a Game 2," Fisher said. "That's more of a Game 7 kind of thing. But I'd talked to a lot of those guys in the last couple of days, and they knew my situation."

Reflecting on an overtime loss that put them down 0-2 in this Western Conference semifinal, the Warriors thought a lot about Fisher, who didn't arrive at the arena until the third quarter after enduring a life-threatening experience with his daughter, stricken by eye cancer, in New York City. They had to admire the 30 points from Carlos Boozer and the 20 from that madman of the open floor, Andrei Kirilenko, and they were probably cursing Deron Williams, once again, for the clutch shots he hit at the end of regulation and the opening moments of overtime.

Through it all, though, they had to recall the sight of Andris Biedrins at the free-throw line, 1:31 left in regulation, Warriors leading by a point. Matt Barnes had just hauled down an offensive rebound _ a bit of an upset, considering Utah's ridiculous 60-32 edge on the boards _ and Stephen Jackson rifled a perfect pass inside to Biedrins, who got fouled.

Biedrins might be the worst free thrower in the history of the NBA. That's really saying something, but he's definitely in the conversation. Some of his shots don't get past the front rim, slamming off rudely and heading off to bruise someone's knee.

Summoning his absolute best at this crucial time, Biedrins put down both free throws. It seems implausible, on the brink of inexcusable, that Mickael Pietrus and Baron Davis couldn't follow his lead.

The Warriors had a three-point lead when Davis brought the ball down the floor inside the final minute. Fisher rushed to guard him in a classic confrontation: two players known to crave the moment when the tension becomes unbearable. Davis, trying to put the game away. Fisher, trying to at least temporarily forget one of the most devastating episodes of his life. Fisher was relentless, swarming over Davis without mercy, and now Baron was accidentally stepping on the baseline, just inside half court, for a turnover.

"I thought he was trying to foul me," Davis said. "He kept reaching, reaching in. I should have kept the ball in the middle of the floor."

Thanks to the superb defense of Jackson, Mehmet Okur missed a three-point try at the other end, and now Pietrus had two free-throw tries that could seal it with 16 seconds left. He missed them both, completing a sadly invisible performance over 13 minutes of play (he didn't stand so tall afterward, either, brushing away reporters with a no-comment stance).

It was a minor miracle that Okur's ensuing shot, a masterpiece of resolve that brought down the house, was taken just an inch inside the three-point line. That left the Warriors up by a point, and when Davis went to the free-throw line with 6.2 seconds left, he had a chance to restore that three-point lead and put extreme pressure on a team that would rather not shoot from that far (16 attempts from three-point range to the Warriors' 40).

But Davis didn't do his job. As marvelous as he was in a 36-point performance that re-established his edge over Williams, he hit only one of the two free-throw tries. "Went in and out," Davis said of the fateful second one. "I really don't miss 'em, so ..."

So Utah had the opportunity for Williams to drive the lane, hard, then pull up for a difficult little 12-foot floater that went straight in. Bedlam. The Warriors didn't know it then, but they were finished. The overtime, as it turned out, was painfully one-sided making the final 127-117.

"We gave this one away," a crestfallen Davis said. "That hurt. That hurt a lot. We lost it on the free throws, really. That just shouldn't happen. We're confident, though. We were out here on the road and put ourselves in a position to win."

As for Fisher, the man who wrote the fairy tale, "He came into the game and really gave 'em a boost," Davis said. "The situation he's in, man, my hat's off to him. He's got a lot of heart and character."

That certainly applied to both teams after a playoff game that left everyone in the building emotionally spent. Today won't feel so hot for any of the Warriors' fans, but Friday night brings Oracle Arena, that sound none of us can forget, and a sense once again that anything might happen. Welcome to the festivities, Mr. Fisher. You just joined the best show in the NBA.

By DAVE KRIEGER
Scripps Howard News Service
Monday, May 07, 2007

I didn't catch the Mayweather-De La Hoya bout, but I doubt it featured as much cut work as Game 1 of the San Antonio Spurs-Phoenix Suns NBA second-round playoff series.

Down the stretch, Spurs point guard Tony Parker played with a large red welt on his forehead. Suns point guard Steve Nash played with an ugly gash spurting blood from the bridge of his nose.

The two butted heads _ not figuratively _ going for the ball in the fourth quarter. Parker at first appeared to get the worst of it, falling to the floor dazed. Nash went to the Phoenix bench to get his gash treated.

When Parker got his bearings, he walked over to the Suns bench to check on Nash. Instinctively, you might have wondered who would start the woofing.

As Nash looked up, blood covering his nose and at one point running into his eye, you could read his lips as he addressed Parker: "Are you all right?"

The two pros _ one French, one Canadian _ shook hands before Parker retreated from the Suns bench. Evidently, you can have great basketball without adolescent preening or gangsta posing. Who knew?

With all due respect to the six other teams still in the NBA tournament, this should be the championship series. Thankfully, they didn't charge Mayweather-De La Hoya prices for Game 1, but if they had, it would have been worth it.

This is the ultimate match between the old NBA and the new. The Spurs carry the flag of those who love their basketball played "the right way," from Larry Brown's famous catechism. A fundamentally sound team at both ends, they try to run their stuff the same way every time, like an orchestra.

The Suns carry the banner for those who believe the Spurs and Pistons have drained the joy and athleticism from the game in recent years with their compulsive defenses and interminable halfcourt sets. They play a loose, improvisational brand of ball, more like a Grateful Dead show.

For years, traditionalists have insisted no team playing that way can win in the playoffs, when fast breaks dwindle to a precious few and executing intricate halfcourt sets is the name of the game.

This is not exactly a new argument. Doug Moe heard it throughout the 1980s. His up-tempo Nuggets almost always made the playoffs but seldom went far once there.

Although traditionalists blamed this on the way they played, it's impossible to look back on those teams and argue they had any business competing with Magic Johnson's Showtime Lakers.

When George Karl was hired to coach the Nuggets and brought back Moe as an assistant, he brought back the up-tempo offense, too, although it's never been part of his coaching DNA the way it is part of Moe's and Suns coach Mike D'Antoni's.

The Nuggets had no trouble making it work in the regular season. They averaged 105 points per game this season, third in the league behind Phoenix and Golden State.

But they haven't been able to carry that style through the playoffs, in part because they seem to catch the Spurs in the first round every other year. I don't mean to resurrect an old argument, but if there's a game or two in the final weeks next season that the Nuggets can lose to avoid a first-round matchup with the Spurs _ as there were this year _ I say forget all that macho competitive nonsense and lose the darn games.

Anyway, the Nuggets again hoped to take their up-tempo game to the Spurs and again couldn't. The Spurs eliminated their transition game, then eliminated them. They held the Nuggets to an average of 88 points, lower even than their league-leading defensive average (90.1).

The Suns are another matter entirely. D'Antoni, who watched Moe's teams on a little black and white television as a player in Italy in the '80s, believes in the running game as much as any coach since. Phoenix is going to rush the ball up even against the numbers San Antonio always has back.

In Game 1, the Suns won the battle of the pace, getting to triple figures with relative ease, something the Nuggets didn't manage once in their first-round series.

The Spurs always insist they're not a slowdown team that they like to run, too. They lent weight to the case in Game 1, taking full advantage of the porous Suns defense to score 111 points, 13 more than their regular-season average.

Parker and Tim Duncan were monsters, doing to the Suns what Allen Iverson and Carmelo Anthony did to them in Game 1 of the first round, each going over 30. Even with a minor contribution from Manu Ginobili _ and it might be time for milk cartons for Manu _ the Spurs outscored the highest-scoring team in basketball to steal the homecourt advantage, at least for now.

Of course, if you're a Suns fan, you figure that's because Nash was on the bench for several key possessions as his cut man tried to stop the bleeding. Nash, the Canadian, will get stitched up and be back Tuesday, like a hockey player.

That, at least, should make Game 2 a fair fight. On basic cable, no less.

By SCOTT OSLTER
San Francisco Chronicle
Friday, May 04, 2007

Wave high your foam "We're No. 8" fingers, Golden State Warriors fans.

You're riding a miracle.

All of the Bay Area and half of Hollywood turned out Thursday night at Oracle Arena to watch the final installment of that blockbuster hit, "Honey, I Shrunk the Mavericks."

And this is only the beginning.

The Warriors blew Dallas out of the gym and the series with a 111-86 win, and don't bother looking for a more thrillingly improbable moment in Bay Area sports. This was it.

Yes, the Mavericks were literally 86'd.

When it was over, how did the Warriors react? In the locker room, Jason Richardson and Mickael Pietrus hugged and giggled. Giggled. Grown men.

Who's the hero?

Could be Baron Davis, playing with one hamstring tied behind his back, fluid on his knee, and still leading the show.

Could be Stephen Jackson, who shot the lights out, you'll excuse the expression, 7-for-7 from the three-point arc before he missed. Thirty-three points for the guy the Pacers gift-wrapped to the Warriors half a season ago and who almost blew himself out of the series with his temper.

"Baron told me midway in the second quarter he wasn't feeling as good as he was previous games," Jackson said. "He wanted me to carry us."

Done. Best fill-in leader since Rudolph the Reindeer.

The hero could even be Matt Barnes, who ignited the Warriors' eye-popping 26-3 third-quarter run with this play:

Trying a desperation save of a ball going out of bounds on the Mavericks' baseline, Barnes leaped, grabbed the ball and fired a fastball off the head and neck of Jason Terry. It was a desperate, absolutely vicious and clean play, and the Warriors got the ball. Andres Biedrins scored inside to give the Warriors a four-point lead that soon became 23.

The Mavericks are still ducking in fear.

Barnes book-ended the run by thunder dunking on Dirk Nowitzki, whoever he is.

Or the hero could be Don Nelson, who wrote this unbelievably corny screenplay.

Good coach, lousy liar.

Nelson has been saying all along that the Warriors aren't as good as the Mavericks.

He'll be saying the same thing soon about either the Jazz or the Rockets, up next on the Warriors' hit list. Who are you going to believe _ Nellie or your eyes?

If Nelson says any team is better than the Warriors right now, he's talking right out of his armpit. The Jazz and the Rockets were both rooting for the Mavericks on Thursday night, because nobody in the NBA wants a piece of this team right now.

The Golden State Warriors are out of control.

Nobody has any idea of how to stop them. The fact that they are a seven-man rotation, with two of the seven nursing bad hamstrings and more seems to only intensify the mystery.

Nelson has also been saying that whatever slim chance the Warriors have in any given game is only valid if Davis stays healthy.

"Boom Dizzle,'' who is the swizzle that that stirs the Warriors' sizzle, had his hammie fizzle Thursday night in the first half. Alternately limping and flying the rest of the night, he finished with 20 points and 10 rebounds.

Trust me, this is no time to start believing anything Nellie says.

Nelson is trying to downplay the fact that he's coaching America's Team _ a bunch of rejects and castoffs playing incredible warp-speed, we-are-family hoops. They're playing dream-team ball and they give off a whiff of danger.

And they're enjoying this even more than the fans are, if that's possible.

Now opponents not only worry about being posterized by Barnes, but they worry about being spun like tops by the Warriors fast break, and pick-pocketed by the Warriors' bumblebee defense.

The Jazz and Rockets are phoning Charles Barkley right now, begging him to keep his mouth shut.

What the heck, if you haven't already, jump on the bandwagon.

Paste on your chin a Baron Davis beard that looks like a locomotive cowcatcher.

Spike your hair like Biedrins. Or go Mohawk like Barnes, and let the tattoos creep up your neck.

Give the world your best Stephen Jackson 3-T scowl, or the Monta Ellis high-school-yearbook smile, and state your affection for your teammates with a Pietrus French accent, coolest of its type since Maurice Chavalier.

Then light up a stogie like Nellie and ice down the scotch, and yell at the kids for being boneheads and fine 'em while you're hugging 'em and telling 'em you love 'em and are proud of 'em.

No wonder the Warriors are capturing the national imagination, and a posse/entourage that includes Snoop Dogg, Carlos Santana and Owen Wilson.

The Warriors are desperadoes playing like they're carefree and have nothing to lose. Which is it? Who knows? If it was easy to win as the No. 8 seed because of no pressure, more teams would do it.

Have the Warriors exceeded expectations? As Yogi Berra once said, "They've done more than that."

"They're a hot team right now," Mavs' coach Avery Johnson said. "They can kind of put you in a bind with their small lineup."

Who knew that in basketball, tall is bad?

Jump on that bandwagon fast, because it's running on fumes and a rubber-band motor, it's held together by Ace bandages, and it's coming to a gym near you, giggling and roaring and completely out of control.

By DAVE KRIEGER
Scripps Howard News Service
Thursday, May 03, 2007

When it was over, old Michael Finley hugged it out with young Carmelo Anthony and held it just long enough to deliver a message.

"I told him the truth," Finley said. "He's a tough matchup for me. I've learned a lot, and I'm still a big fan of his and the sky's the limit for him.

"I've always been a fan of his, even when he was in college, and I will continue to be that. I just can't show that when I'm playing against him, but I'll always be a fan of his and Allen Iverson."

Isn't everybody? Anthony and Iverson can play together. That much we learned this season. Now it's time for the Denver Nuggets to get them the support they need to succeed together.

For the second time in three years, the Spurs provided a postseason blueprint for improvement if the Nuggets' brass will only follow it.

First on the list is depth. When the Nuggets deployed substitutes still learning to shave, the Spurs answered with battle-tested veterans. It was no contest.

"We probably didn't have enough pieces," Nuggets coach George Karl allowed. "The depth of San Antonio was very obvious, and we need to evaluate that."

Second on the list is Finley's weapon of choice. The Spurs finished third in the NBA in three-point shooting. The Nuggets finished 28th. The Spurs made almost twice as many threes (41-23) in the series. Many, including Finley's eight in Game 5, were killers.

As Spurs coach Gregg Popovich pointed out afterward, the three-point shot has become an indispensable part of the NBA game. For too long, the Nuggets have refused to recognize this fact.

"The floor has to be spread," Popovich said. "With all the schemes double-teaming players, whether they're perimeter or post players, teams have to have the floor spread either to be able to shoot a three or to create penetration, especially with the rules the way they are out on the perimeter, where the bumping is called a lot more readily. So the three-point shot is mandatory."

If there is one consistent element through the Nuggets' first-round failures during the past four years, it is an inability to shoot the three. This must change.

When Steve Blake got hot in the first half Wednesday, it was a nice little streak. When Finley got hot for the Spurs, it was the beginning of the end.

That's the threat a proven shooter provides.

It's easy to underestimate the Spurs. You watch them for a minute and they seem slow and methodical. But watch them over the course of a series like this one _ or the one two years ago, for that matter _ and you see the qualities that make them perennial championship contenders.

As they became accustomed to the Nuggets, their defense kept improving. Popovich said his defensive game plan changed very little from the series two years ago, the difference being the need to account more closely for Iverson than he accounted for Andre Miller. But the principles were the same _ get back in transition and blanket Anthony.

That's essentially how the Nuggets played the Spurs, too, and they did it pretty well. They got back in transition and blanketed Tim Duncan. The problem was the Spurs had so many other weapons, and Duncan had the intelligence and unselfishness to find them.

"I thought he was a wonderful quarterback for us for the whole series," Popovich said.

In the end, the Spurs wore the Nuggets down mentally, just as they did two years ago. The Nuggets would play a sound defensive series, force Duncan to surrender the ball, close out every shooter, and then Finley or Robert Horry would hit a three anyway.

The Spurs would run at Anthony or Iverson, who would make the right pass, but his teammate, not being a shooter, would clang the shot.

As this process repeated, their confidence waned. You could see it in their faces. By the final game, the two stars were taking it on their own shoulders with tough, contested shots. They wanted the responsibility, which is a good thing. They didn't have enough help from their friends, which is not.

"This is a much tougher team," Duncan said, comparing these Nuggets to those of two years ago. "They're going to be a very good team for a lot of years if they keep this crew together. Incredibly talented, incredibly physical, a good mixture with Nene and Marcus Camby back there at the big positions. It's a lot different series than it was."

It was another tough lesson for a franchise that has had more than its share. The better team won this series. There can be no debate about that.

But the blueprint for the Nuggets is clear. The stars are on hand. That's the tough part.

"Looking at that Spurs team is like looking at where we want to be," Iverson said.

This summer, it will be the organization's job to help them get there.

By GREGG PATTON
The Press-Enterprise
Thursday, May 03, 2007

The Los Angeles Lakers walked off the floor Wednesday night and into who knows what?

But whatever this team looks like when it reassembles next fall, it ought to be better than this _ a struggle to make the postseason and an early exit from a first-round series they could not make competitive.

Their Game 5 loss was gutsy, but, in the end, just a prideful effort that fell short. The previous time the Lakers came to Phoenix facing elimination in Game 7 a year ago, they barely showed up and lost by a mile and a half.

This time, with the odds significantly steeper against them, they showed the kind of grit and purpose that has been lacking lately.

They made the Suns work for it. There would be no early celebrating in the US Airways Center at the Lakers' expense. That the game went to the final minute and ended 119-110 would have to serve as consolation.

It was a respectful way to go out, for sure, but nothing more.

The expected happened. The Suns advanced. The Lakers are all about next year. In fact, they have been for a while. People have been talking about what's ahead since the first two games of the postseason _ if not before that.

Whatever patience there was among the Lakers faithful seems to have vaporized over the past few months. Hard to believe that in January the team was hobnobbing with the Western Conference elite.

Lamar Odom, Luke Walton and Kwame Brown actually looked like a semi-cohesive unit around Kobe Bryant. Happily, the Lakers also had second-year, teenage center Andrew Bynum playing ahead of schedule. His flashes of athleticism made him one of the most-coveted young players in the league, the one guy opposing general managers tried to pry away from Mitch Kupchak as the trading deadline approached.

Of course, that seems like light years ago. Injuries to Odom, Walton, Brown and Vladimir Radmanovic _ and a schedule that got nasty _ turned the Lakers to mush.

In Brown's absence, Bynum was pushed into the fray, and the fray exposed him. He is, indeed 19 years old, and very much still a project.

By Wednesday night, the January Lakers were irrelevant. Odom gamely pushed his banged-up body, but his damaged left arm made every free throw and layup a chore. His 33 points and 10 rebounds were a testament to his toughness and value. Too bad it may have to be his farewell, if the Lakers are going to have a new star in his place next year.

Odom preferred focusing on the better times.

"We looked good," he said of the initial success the team had. "Then there were injuries, and more injuries. It kept the team apart.

"We had our ups and downs. It's too bad we started with the ups."

Walton echoed his sentiments, insisting the team doesn't need a dramatic makeover.

"People should look back at what we were capable of," he said. "We were playing like the Suns _ passing the ball, everyone involved. But it's up to management. They'll decide whether to keep us or send people different places."

He conceded that change figures to be in the air, though.

"Obviously, playing in LA, and you lose in the first round, that doesn't make it," he said. "People expect championships."

That's it, isn't it? The grace period is over. It's been three years since the Lakers turned the franchise into Kobe-or-bust. Bust is knocking at the door. No one is OK with mediocrity from the Lakers. It isn't in the organization's genes.

Every time you turn on the radio or read a blog these days, someone else has Minnesota's Kevin Garnett on his way to LA. It's a nice dream, if you're a Lakers fan. Let's suppose, while we're fantasizing, that the Timberwolves would agree to move him, and move him to another team in the West, and that KG would approve.

Realistically, of course, if the Lakers were to acquire a big-name partner for Bryant _ Garnett or anyone else in his class _ it will cost them. To match a salary, Odom is the most likely to go. To get an all-star, Bynum will have to go, too.

It's time.

The Lakers need help now. The Kobe Window probably stays open another four years or so. Waiting for Bynum makes sense if you're anyone but the Lakers. This is a beast of a franchise that needs feeding now, not later.

The January Lakers were a mirage _ a team playing at the top of its game, taking advantage of a friendly early schedule.

The May Lakers are banged up, for sure, but more like the real thing. This is a franchise running in place.

First-round farewells are getting old. What LA needs is something very new around Kobe.

It's hard, but necessary. Shake it up.