The Lake Show Closes

The Lake Show Closes

I should have known. Despite winning in six games, the Los Angeles Lakers pretty much mailed in the Hornets series. It was disquieting to see them struggle to contain Chris Paul, much less Trevor Ariza and Marco Belinilli. As I said last month, they looked so tired. Meanwhile, the Mavericks, when tested by the younger, more athletic Trail Blazers, responded forcefully, closing them out in six games as well. But I was fooled by the teams’ respective reputations: the Lakers as the-tough-get-going champions, the Mavericks as playoff underachievers. And so, to me, the path to the conference finals was clear for the Lakers. Pffft. What a joke.

To call it a sweep would be an understatement. It was more like a drubbing; a beat down; a prolonged humiliation. The Mavericks were incredible from pillar to post, and the Lakers behaved like the “Jersey Shore” cast, season three: stupid and lazy and obnoxious. Stories like this have begun appearing that make the team sound more like another Southern California icon, Fleetwood Mac. But… it would explain some things. The Lakers played selfishly on defense, refusing to help each other out, and nearly every player on the team gave a lackluster effort. Kobe tried to get his teammates involved, but they gave up on him after Game Two — when bundle of energy Ron Artest got bounced for a clothesline/smushface maneuver — and just went through the motions for the final two games.

Phil Jackson should be ashamed of his team and himself and, as I write this, he is busy nonchalantly heaping the entire blame on his players alone. It’s easy to say that the players play the game, and should therefore be responsible for what happens. Still, it was more than a lack of effort that left one Maverick sharpshooter open on every possession. There were many instances in which the Lakers appeared to have two players posting up on top of each other. I was so confused at the crippled triangle that I actually was hoping that guru Tex Winter was asleep during the game. Jackson is retiring and he should, although by September the rumors of him coaching the New York Knicks will begin to appear.

People are saying that team owner Dr. Jerry Buss should “blow up” the team. That’s far too dramatic. There are some other adjustments they could make. They need a point guard, first of all. A true point guard. And they need to stop treating Andrew Bynum as a future difference maker. He’s not even close to that. He’s large, but I would trade him and Lamar Odom to the Nets for Deron Williams and the Lopez twin so fast your head would spin. Two local boys (Odom from New York, Bynum from New Jersey) can help to take the team to Brooklyn. Sounds about right. Williams has yet to unpack anyway.

Derek Fisher, as I wondered last week, was in fact relying on muscle memory, not skill, and he has clearly reached the end of his road with the team. His terrible play during the entire series culminated in him nearly single-handedly throwing Game 3 away in its final moments.

There aren’t enough words to describe how lousy Pau Gasol was against the Mavericks. His hurt feelings aside, you need to show up in the playoffs. And while the players are getting lambasted for ending the game in a fit of unsportsmanlike behavior — Lamar Odom and Andrew Bynum getting bounced for hard fouls — I was less repulsed by their lack of sportsmanship. All series long, I was actually calling for someone to “squash” JJ Barea, so when Bynum clobbered him I thought, “Finally.” Not sure how he was permitted to conduct a dribbling clinic for four games, skipping through the lane with floaters, but had he been playing the Bad Boy-era Pistons or the ’95 Knicks, I would be speaking of him in the past tense this morning.

Heading into Saturday night’s Game Three, the Celtics-Heat was still a series, despite what you had read. All the Heat did in games one and two is hold home court. Then the Celtics came back on Saturday and put the smack down, literally, playing the kind of physical, relentless defense that is the mark of a championship club. The Heat play solid man-to-man defense, too, but they don’t possess the same nastiness. And half of their players are terrible.

When they saw Rajon Rondo return from a separated shoulder dislocated elbow — a near-miraculous development, in my eyes — the princes of South Beach wilted. Chris Bosh, the rugged power forward said as much: Game Four will be even more physical. If the Celtics prevail, then I still think it will be curtains for the Heat. If not… well, the Celtics clearly miss Kendrick Perkins, as we have discussed on numerous occasions.

In Memphis, the Grizzlies have shown a surprising resiliency, leading 2–1, thanks to Oklahoma City’s inexplicable shooting drought down the stretch of Game Three. The Thunder still has yet to play the quality of basketball that pushed the Lakers to the brink last year. I still expect that they will, but then again, I’m still waiting for the Blazers to beat the Mavericks. Nevertheless, I am still bullish on the Thunder’s chances, although I am less sure of the outcome that I was a week ago. The Grizzlies are tall, athletic, fearless and playing with house money, at this point. I keep waiting for someone to make Zach Randolph leave his feet, but I have a feeling that it will be a long wait.

I have three words for those who assumed the Chicago Bulls would be in the Eastern Conference Finals: ha ha ha. The Atlanta Hawks, who knotted the series at 2–2 last night, have rewarded my faith by outplaying the Bulls at every position other than, duh, point guard. Even though most people are still overlooking the Hawks, they would be advised not to. Derrick Rose can’t do it alone, the way that Jordan couldn’t do it alone. Not that anyone would compare Derrick Rose to Michael Jordan. Because that would be ludicrous. Right?

Tony Gervino is a New York City-based editor and writer obsessed with honing his bio to make him sound quirky. He can also be found here.

Photo by Keith Allison.