For the past four days I have been on vacation on the East Coast; caught up in rushing rivers full of busy people armed with iPod earphones and yoga mats, wearing intensely blank stares as they zoom through underground metro tunnels, offering no indication that they are even aware of your presence. I have let the world pass excitedly around me during this period of respite, content to spend time with friends having a beer, or simply letting the sort of comical faux busy-ness of New York and Washington DC convince me that I probably have other more important things to do. All of that is to say that over the past few days, I haven’t watched much NBA basketball, and it hasn’t really bothered me too much.
I suppose that is part and parcel of where we are at in this postseason that has entertained us, but also left us wanting more, wondering “what if?”, or even worse, “does the outcome even matter?”. Between two lesser metropolises ensconced within the the expansive American south, the San Antonio Spurs showed how capable of a unit they have become over the course of the previous two seasons, and completed their rather easy quest to win the Western Conference. The Memphis Grizzlies ended being exactly who we thought they might be – a defensive juggernaut, but one that needed to beat you in the first three quarters instead of letting it drag too long into the fourth – and we can now keenly watch their organizational present play out of the next few months. At the same time, out East, the Indiana Pacers returned a solid punch to the Miami Heat. Though the Heat’s multi-pronged attack neutralized the Pacers in a 116-94 rout on Sunday, the Pacers returned on Tuesday to put up another brilliant defensive stand, score just enough points, and tie the series at two games apiece,, 99-92. That said, this is nearly the exact same trajectory from last year’s semifinal series, when the Heat and Pacers split their first four games before LeBron and the Heat’s offense became too overwhelming for the Pacers scrappy unit. And frankly, despite the Pacers’ win tonight, common wisdom seems to say that Miami will find a way to win two of the next three games, and secure their third straight trip to the NBA finals. Of course, I’d love for Indiana to prove me wrong. But even in the excitement of a 2-2 series, there still seems to be an air of simple inevitability to the next three games; a one-dimensional matter of the Heat hitting a few more shots against the Pacers brilliant but surmountable defense, and LeBron producing a quasi-signature performance to help his team get over the last hump. In today’s NBA, this is not an unreasonable goal.
When the Decision happened nearly three years ago, pundits asserted that that memorable free agency upheaval, which featured a grab-bag of foundational stars, plus a new collective bargaining agreement between the league and the players, would change the fundamental landscape of the NBA. For the most part, this has been absolutely correct. For all of the exciting storylines that structured the varied narratives of the past few NBA seasons – the rise (and rapid fall?) of the Knicks, the relocation of the Nets, the renewals of the Pacers and the Warriors and the recessions of the Mavericks and Lakers – there really has been an all-too-teleological destination: an NBA finals featuring the best player on the face of the planet, and his sinisterly efficient killing squad, the gleaming Miami Heat. And while there is reason to believe that the Thunder would have put up more of a fight had Westbrook been able to play, we have no hard data to prove this, and must accept that the team that consistently looked like the best team in the conference – that is, the Spurs – was the team that ended up winning their side of the bracket. In the immortal words of an NFL coach whose name is not nearly as important as his infamous sound-byte, both the Spurs and the Heat “are who we thought they were”.
It is in these throat-clearing moments that we begin to realize why we are so anxious about the prevalence of injuries and the disturbing lack of competitiveness in the advanced stages of the NBA postseason. When we wonder about the true extent of Russell Westbrook’s injury, or why Derrick Rose never felt comfortable enough to stand by his shoe advertisements and go “all in”, we are really anxiously wondering: who will ever possibly beat LeBron? When we argue about whether the Grizzlies “won” or “lost” the much-discussed Rudy Gay trade, or whether Dwight Howard would look better on the Lakers, Rockets or Warriors, we may be asking: are we due for another three-’ships-in-five-years run for San Antonio? Indeed, David Stern and the owners locked out the players in an attempt to create parity where it previously had failed to exist, and a select collection of franchises’ won the lion-share of the league’s championships. It was the expressed goal of the NBA brass to give teams like Memphis and Indiana a chance to compete against teams like Miami, and allow for small market teams to construct championship quality rosters without having to, at best, luck into the first pick of the draft (like the Spurs did in 1988 for David Robinson), or, at worst, unabashedly tank for the very same pick (like the same Spurs did in 1997 for Tim Duncan). If this attempt at parity fails to actualize – and this looks likely for at least this season – we are left with furrowed brows and hands shoved deeply into pockets; disappointed that chance, error and happenstance fail to dethrone the logical conclusions that hover over us for months and months on end.
If it happens (and again, I do believe that it will) the finals series between the Heat and Spurs should be a magnificent display of professional basketball. Between these two teams are the epitomes of excellence in this field; the top owners, executives, coaches and, of course, players, that this league we love so dearly has to offer. We will be lucky — yes, lucky– to watch an NBA finals where the greatest post player alive can unleash his hammering defense on the basketball God among men, LeBron James. The ball movement will be exquisite and the scent of hubris will hardly be faint. There will be so little to dislike about these finals, and indeed, the final outcome of the NBA regular and postseason that these sour grapes will quickly be eaten, or left to rot in the fridge, cold and alone.
But until that happens? I’m on vacation.
