Chances at making sports history are fleeting. They consist of a hodgepodge of greatness, luck, and circumstance. It is so rare that a team can make an impact on the record books, and this is why I think it is necessary to applaud the Nuggets on their history making night in Portland today. They shot 0-22 on three pointers tonight, and that is one hell of a record.

It takes a special kind of team to get a record like that — especially when the team doesn’t consist entirely of 15 Dwight Howard clones who suddenly decide to take a plethora of three point attempts. Denver is not totally inept from behind the arc this season. While they rank 25th in three point field goal percentage, it could be worse. They could be last. In fact, the difference between Denver and the last place team in three point percentage is the same as the difference between Denver and the fourth place team.

Or at least it was until tonight’s game happen. Those stats are bound to look different once NBA.com gets around to updating them. The stats I quoted in the previous paragraph do not reflect the level of victory Denver achieved on this most historic of nights. A victory that cannot be calculated purely in wins or loses.

Although, Denver did lose.

Losing made their entry into history all the more admirable. With three minutes to go, this game was still very winnable, but Denver made a game-long decision to shoot themselves out of victory and into history. They shot themselves into greater history than a mere extra win in the standings. And while, with three minutes to go, Denver could have deviated from that plan, they decided to keep their course.

Full steam ahead to history!

Down by six with three minutes to go, Denver took a three point shot, missed (of course), got an offensive rebound, and then missed another three point shot. In those last three minutes alone, the team took (and missed) five three pointers, yet they still scored ten points through free throws and two point makes. Portland also received the benefit of four gimme points through intention fouls/free throws at the end of the game, giving them an eight point lead that, minus intentional fouls, could have easily been merely a four point lead given that Portland only shot 35.9% for the game. If Denver had taken a different approach in those final minutes, maybe they would have won the game (well, we will get to that later), but at what cost?

Denver also shot horrifically during this game with an overall FG% of 38.8%. Clearly, though, this number is swayed greatly by the three point misses. Taking those away, but still leaving in all the missed midrange shots (Denver made only one shot from midrange or longer the entire game), the FG% looks a lot different. Had Denver not shot a single three pointer the entire game, their FG% would have been 50%.

If we lived in a world where those 22 three point attempts were two point attempts, Denver would have needed to shoot 22.73% to win the game. That would have given Denver 103 points for the game — two more than Portland’s 101. Even an awful team on an awful shooting night can make 5 out of 22 shots.

Of course, it’s not that simple, is it? Surely, Denver did not plan to break the three point record when they went into the game tonight. They went about their normal game plan, saw they were missing threes, and then they went for it. They took advantage of circumstances that were already going in their favor.

The question, then, is what was their decision point? At what point could they have realistically missed a bunch of threes and decided to not take anymore while still most likely winning the game? The easy answer, but incorrect answer, would probably be after their 12th missed three pointer. That leaves ten more shots to change from three pointers to two pointers, and if they kept up their 50% scoring clip on two pointers, they would have won the game.

The problem with that is most of their two pointers were pretty decent shots. There is no way of knowing the quality of the shots if Denver had taken two pointers instead of those last ten three point shots. In some semblance of fairness, I am going to assume Denver would have shot about 40% on those two pointers. That means they would have had to quit taking three pointers somewhere around the ninth or tenth missed shot if they were going to definitely get the win instead of the record.

That seems far too early in the game to give up, and we, the NBA fans, are lucky they didn’t.

It is hard to predict how things would have gone in those close last three minutes if Denver had abandoned their bid for history (because of the before mentioned four points Portland got off of intentional fouls), but it’s worthwhile to guess because that was the last turning point. Denver would have needed to either tie or take the lead in the game before the final ten seconds when they started fouling.

Remember, they shot five three pointers in the last three minutes, but two of those came after the intentional fouling started. That means, if they took two pointers instead of three pointers in those last minutes, they would have had to make two out of three to tie. Considering that two three pointers were taken on one possession, that also means they would have had to score on every possession to even tie the game.

Factor in the extra two possessions Denver got in the final ten seconds from intentional fouling, and to even tie the game, they still would have needed to score on every possession. Since that would have been a near impossibility, it is clearly a good thing that Denver decided to go for the record instead of the win.

Before that, the next available, realistic turning point where Denver could have quit taking three pointers and gone for the win was with 7:07 left in the game. However, from this point forth, Denver only took six three point attempts. They get one extra possession to work with, but they still have to score (on only two pointers) on five out of six possessions to even send the game into overtime and all six possessions to win it.

The very last point where Denver could have quit going for the record like a bunch of cowards and instead probably won was with 2:27 left in the third quarter. They were down by nine points then, but they would have gotten twelve extra two point attempts. By then, we are all thankful that this team had their priorities straight. They would become heroes on this December night — not a bunch of jerks who won a meaningless regular season game.

While this was a team effort on Denver’s part, not everyone contributed to the record. In fact, the record could have been much better if the following players had even attempted a three pointer: JaVale McGee, Kosta Koufos, Kenneth Faried, Timofey Mozgov, and Anthony Randolph. I know these guys are all power forwards or centers, but that is no excuse for lacking team spirit. If Andrew Bynum has the guts to attempt a three pointer, surely the previous list of NON-All-Star players could, too.

But I hate to end on a negative note. This was a night about triumph and the inevitably of greatness — not about gutless non-contributors! (Sorry!)  What Denver did tonight was nothing short of amazing, and it is worth pointing out that they actually had the record for most missed three pointers at 21.

Then the clock was ticking down to the final buzzer.

And Ty Lawson stepped up to the three-point line.

Clang.

Nothing but history — with a new record that is just a little harder to beat.

I am disappointed in the Washington Wizards. Few players get a chance to be forever immortalized in the record books. It is an opportunity that should not be squandered all willy nilly, but that is exactly what the Wizards did. Instead of being a historically bad team, the Wizards are now merely an extremely bad team that will be forgotten.

I know this game against the Trailblazers would have been only their 13th loss to start the season, but their schedule held such great potential for continued losses if they could have only gotten through this one game completely scathed. Their next four games are going to be against teams with winning records — games they will surely lose even still. That would have brought them up to 17 losses to start the season. Their 18th game (and potential record-tying loss) of the season is against New Orleans — another horrible team that is facing injury issues. That would have been quite the dog fight, but I think if they tried extremely hard to not give any effort at all, they could have pulled off the loss.

Still it comes down to them blowing blowing this game, which makes what could have been simultaneously hypothetical and pointless. I had a bad feeling early on when the Wizards first overcame an early deficit and then had the gull to take a double digit second half lead. Yet, they still found themselves back on the road to history when they blew the lead completely in the fourth quarter and found themselves down within the last two and a half minutes.

The moment of truth came when Okafor was at the line with 39 seconds left and the game tied. Nobody blinks when a big man misses a couple free throws. He could have just done it, but no — he made both.

Yet these are the Wizards. America’s Wizards! If there is time on the clock, there is always a chance they can still lose, and they almost pulled it off. The Trailblazers got four possessions and two shot attempts  in the last 39 seconds, but they weren’t able to make any of them. Sure, the Wizards could have played less defense. In fact, they SHOULD have, but the onus is ultimately on Portland for missing two shots (and turning the ball over once).

The Wizards even realized that they were messing up, with Nene blatantly fouling Matthews, but it was too late in the game for the refs to make that kind of call, so it went down as a steal, a timeout, and then a Wizards win. Pathetic. Too little too late on the Wizards’ side.

All I can say is I’m extremely upset. Winning this game didn’t make the Wizards any less terrible, but it did keep them out of the record books. Records were made to be broken, and the Wizards failed to sink to the occasion. They should be ashamed of themselves.

It isn’t Ulysses’ perfection that makes him one of the greatest characters of all time.  And it wasn’t perfection that led Dante, who had never actually read Homer’s epic poem which had yet to be translated into Latin by 1305 when he started the Divine Comedy, to write the greatest canto of the Inferno about Ulysses.  It wasn’t perfection that persuaded Tennyson to write the poem “Ulysses,” a poem that builds on Homer and Dante and turns the Greek soldier into into a beautiful crescendo of death and courage.  So what was it about this one man?  A man who refused to return home until the time was right and then leave a lonely wife and son because of boredom?  A man who willingly sent his crew to their death as they glimpsed the shores of purgatory?  A man whose faults outweighed his virtues?  Even though Dante never read the tales of Ulysses, hearing of his exploits was enough for the Italian to understand what made the Greek so special–his imperfection, or his humanity in the face of everything that made him beyond human.

One of the casualties of our modern era is the beauty of imperfections.  There is an asinine idea in our culture that the modern day tragic characters; mainly the highest paid, most talented, larger-than-life athletes; should conform to the perceived moral character of their viewers. Many of the idiots who take exception to those professionals who won’t prescribe to this blame the athlete, not themselves.  They believe a season ticket allows them the right to lord over the athlete, to judge them like the lions of Babylon, who were too cowardly, not clutch enough to finish off Daniel when the time came.  Ben Fountain understood this and in his newest book, Billy Lynne’s Long Halftime Walk he wrote of the NFL and its fans, “It seemed that football must be made to be productive and useful, a net-plus benefit for all mankind, hence the endless motivational yawping about teamwork, sacrifice, discipline, and other modern virtues, the basic thrust of which boiled down to shut up and do as you’re told.”

What’s worse is this theory has shackled one of the greatest athletes who has ever existed to a perception which may or may not be true; shackled him by the theory that the sports fan has the right to judge unworthy those who don’t conform.  I don’t give a shit about the Decision–to be honest I was was halfway through a bottle of bourbon with friends before I knew what was happening.  I don’t give a shit about what you may or may not think LeBron did to the city of Cleveland or how you may or may not think LeBron plays in the clutch (which is the worst kind of objective sports viewing).  What I do care about is the fact that we can watch one of the more interesting characters do things like he did last night, angrily carry a team on his back for no better reason than he can, and do it in a way that was flawed and imperfect, and because of that, beautiful.

There have been a few times throughout this NBA season when I wanted to call it quits.  Turn off the television, logout of twitter and walk outside into what experts refer to as “sunshine.”  It wasn’t the quality of play, which, even with the lockout-shortened season, was exceptional, but the necessity of sports fans to believe the narratives that corner athletes into convenient roles that only exist in the minds of the viewer.  This kind of stagnation of character doesn’t create Greek tragedies, but Nicholas Sparks novels where everything is comfortably predictable and nothing interesting happens.  Luckily I survived this crisis of identity and witnessed one of the greatest playoff performances I’ve ever seen by one of the most imperfect and dynamic athletes of these much maligned modern times.

So you want your athletes to be uniform examples of the pasty-white, middle-class ideals that don’t really exist in this society?  Go watch golf.  You want a sport to sell you on the idea that you are the most important part of what the athlete does?  The NFL is waiting for your call, they have a fantasy team waiting for a new “coach.”  You want bullshit nostalgia?  There’s a thirty-five second shot clock somewhere near your cookie-cutter home, that is if you have enough energy to get your ass off the couch after a long week as low man on the corporate totem-pole.  Just leave me the sport where the athletes are allowed to be egos; allowed to be uneasy and grandiose; allowed to be gymnasts and juggernauts, comic and tragic.  In short give me the imperfections of the hardwood, because only here can I witness an athlete like LeBron dominate like he did in Game Six.  The Heat may not win the finals, it’s very possible the won’t even make it, but this team, and that one athlete, makes the NBA a more interesting, complex place.

When can you tell that it is all over?

At this point in my “career” as an NBA fan, I have become pretty good at calling the date and time of the death of a game. Sometimes I am wrong, and the opposing team will make some kind of miraculous recovery. Usually I am right, and that team will slip into the sweet release of NBA game death. Last night, I called the Clippers’ death about four minutes into the game. Despite a momentary false-recovery, I was ultimately right.

Even during that recovery time, it was obvious things weren’t going to end well. The Clippers were making three after three and still barely staying in the game. The Thunder blocked or altered nearly every shot inside. The Thunder were only up by three at the end of the first quarter, but it was clear what direction this game was headed.

There would be no twist ending.

There would be no heroic effort.

This game was a bleak, existential affair. Once the three balls stopped dropping at an insane rate, the Thunder blew the game open, and that was it. Trying was meaningless, so the Clippers stopped trying.

It makes me wonder — at what point do NBA players realize the game is over?  Surely, the Clippers did not feel great about their chances as Ibaka and company swatted their shots back in their faces. Surely, the Clippers felt nervous when they shot 5-7 on threes in the first quarter and still did not have the lead.

But when did they know for sure?

I imagine a team keeps fighting for a while “just in case” everything magically starts to click. I imagine everyone was hoping beyond hope that Blake Griffin or Chris Paul would get hot and carry the entire game on their backs. After all, that HAS happened before. Like a terminal patient in a hospital, begging God for more time, it is usually futile.

Sometimes bad fortunes turn around.

Usually they don’t.

I don’t have an answer for my question, but I like to ponder it anyway — did the players know when I knew? Four minutes into the game?

As great as it is that we’re even getting an NBA season this year, something about it hasn’t felt right to me. Despite the fact that there’s been some truly great games and moments, everything’s felt a little off. No matter how great the dunk, how clutch the buzzer beater or slick the crossover, nothing that’s happened this season has made me feel the same way a similar play did last year. Even Blake Griffin’s ridiculous dunk on Kendrick Perkins failed to top the sheer glee I felt watching a play like this from last year:

There are some things that once known, cannot be forgotten no matter how hard you try. The lockout brought a lot of these things to light. Like watching your parents go through a divorce, the lockout has forever changed the way I view the NBA as an institution. Before I was able to block out all the horrible behind the scenes going ons, but now I can’t ignore them. Whenever I watch CP3 toss a lob to Blake Griffin all I can think of is a frog-faced David Stern vetoing the trade to the Lakers. Every incredible Dwayne Wade to LeBron James cross-court oop brings up images of offseason tampering. Hell, I can’t even watch Brandon Jennings without thinking of large market/small market bullshit. Even the truly remarkable stories, like Jeremy Lin’s rise to superstardom, get drowned out in sheer annoyance at the media coverage and the bad puns.

Enter: John Wall and Kyrie Irving.

The BBVA Rising Stars Challenge was, by no means, a great game in the traditional sense. Being an exhibition game, there was obviously no defense played, shot selection was questionable at best, and turnovers were abound. That said, it was easily one of the most fun games I’ve ever watched. Period.

We’re living in an era with some of the most talented young point guards ever. Guys like Derrick Rose, Russell Westbrook and Rajon Rondo. And then there’s the Hall of Fame bound veterans like Chris Paul, Deron Williams and Tony Parker. While I used to be able to watch these guys play and soak in the greatness, I can’t anymore. All I can think of is whether or not Boozer has doomed Rose to go ringless, whether Durant and Westbrook can co-exist (for the last fucking time, YES!), if Rondo is happy playing for the aging Celtics, the nixed CP3 for Pau trade, and, of course, whether Deron Williams and Dwight Howard will be playing in Brooklyn or Dallas.

Oh yeah, and this:

But Irving and Wall? Nothing like that. They’re yet-untainted by the ESPN-driven storylines, the behind the scenes tampering from Stern and desires for crossover appeal. Their expectations are still low, so we can just sit back and watch them play their asses off without worrying about rings or contracts or whether they can co-exist with other superstars on the same team. They represent all that I used to love about the NBA, without the horrible aftertaste left in my mouth from the lockout.

The NBA billed this game like they always have (well, technically like they’ve always billed the Rookie/Sophmore Game), as being a spotlight for the future of the NBA. Of course, when the NBA says that, they mean from a talent perspective, but I look at it a bit differently. While the guys playing in this game will be the All-Stars of the future and will go from playing on Friday night to Sunday night, they are fundamentally different from the guys currently playing on Sunday.

Kyrie Irving was seven years old when Jordan retired for the first time. LeBron James was 13. Today’s crop of All-Stars grew up under the long shadow of Michael Jordan and, as such, have tried to do everything they can to be the next Mike. But they can’t. Even if Kobe Bryant finally gets that sixth ring, he’s still Kobe Bryant. If LeBron James somehow makes good on his promise to bring Miami “not one, not two, not three…” rings in Miami, he’s still LeBron James (and an asshole). No matter how much ESPN, TNT and ABC want another Michael Jordan or Chicago Bulls dynasty for ratings, they’ll never get one. And because of that, their constant quest to recapture the magic that was those teams will forever harm the league and those players.

But the guys playing on Friday night? To them, Jordan’s just a brand. They didn’t grow up with him. Sure, his impact on the league was there, but they don’t have any memories attached to the flu game. They weren’t alive for The Shot. They missed it. They grew up watching guys like Allen Iverson, Chris Webber and Steve Nash. Guys that, while great, never won it all. They grew up watching guys like Kevin Garnett, Kobe and Shaq who, while dominant, couldn’t do it on their own. They grew up outside the shadow cast by Jordan. And as such, they’re free to be themselves and decide who Kyrie Irving, John Wall or DeMarcus Cousins wants to be. They don’t invite these comparisons, they don’t count the rings, they just play their goddamn asses off and entertain the fans.

Kyrie Irving and John Wall had a lot to be spiteful about on Friday. Despite having a rookie season that’s virtually unprecidented, Kyrie was passed up on Sunday for Deron Williams and Joe Johnson. When Johnson backed out for injury and Kyrie had a second chance to make the All-Star Team, he again got passed up for Rajon Rondo. Despite being the number one pick in 2010 and the MVP of the Rookie/Sophomore Game that year, John Wall fell down the draft board and went after a guy like Jeremy Lin who’s NBA career is a mere handful of games long. While they could have gone out and played with a chip on their shoulder, out to prove that they should have been playing on Sunday or drafted earlier, instead they went out and had a hell of a lot of fun. And in doing so, they reminded everyone why they were number one draft picks.

Kyrie’s perfect 8/8 from behind the arch notched him his first accolade in the league, the Rising Stars Challenge MVP. He also got his first (at least that I’ve seen) dunk of his pro career thanks to a lob pass from John Wall that had me leaping off my couch at 2:30am when I was catching this thanks to my DVR. Meanwhile, John Wall won the dunk contest a day early without even being in it, Tristan Thompson quietly put up 20 to lead Team Shaq in scoring (personally, I can’t believe I’m writing that) and the Ricky Rubio/Blake Griffin combination somehow lived up to the hype and was everything I was hoping it would be.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NMxGNC63xFk&feature=related

It was a refreshing change of pace. It’s seemingly been forever since I’ve watched a game where it looks like everyone’s having fun. I can’t remember the last time I watched someone come down from a dunk with a smile on their face instead of an overly macho mean mug or listened to commentators that were actually watching and enjoying the game. In a strange way, the Rising Stars Challenge, even if only for a fleeting moment, cut through all that bullshit and reminded me of why I love this game so much. To me, it was the true highlight of All-Star Weekend, and has given me hope that the NBA can get back to what’s important and why we all love this sport so much. Fun.

Warning: This article contains spoilers. Read at your own risk.

Yet another turnover lead to Russell Westbrook’s open dunk in a game that seemed to be spiraling out of control for the Mavericks. The ball bounced casually to Rick Carlisle, who punted it directly into the stands. It was a metaphor for futility in a game that was mostly futile for the Mavericks… in a season that has often been futile as well. It was a perfect moment that encapsulated this ugly game.

A careless turnover.

Another Westbrook field goal.

A moment of comic hopelessness.

Sure, the Dallas Mavericks made it a game for a second. Somewhere around a minute and a half left in the game, I actually thought they might win it, but that was only a fleeting thought. It was a little cartoon hummingbird fluttering around my ear, whispering silly nonsense before flying off again. It was a thought — a moment — that did not make sense.

Then the Thunder went on a little run, and the world made sense again.

Of course, the Mavericks were going to lose this game. Brendan Haywood and Lamar Odom were out injured and sick. Dirk Nowitzki was running around with his hobbled knee visibly dragging behind him. If it weren’t for Jason Terry going off for 25 points on 10 shots, this game would have been a blowout. Dallas was defeated from the start, and they came out playing like that.

Their passes were lazy.

They moved like lobotomized slugs on both ends of the court.

They lost.

It was already obvious in the second quarter what was going to happen when Westbrook got his “fuck this” face and started to rip apart what was left of Dallas. The Mavericks were both the kicked ball and the kicker. They were pushed around and they were defeated. Westbrook took advantage of the situation. He was that skeezy guy who purposefully dates girls on the rebound from tough breakups because he knows they will let him do whatever the hell he wants.

So he did whatever the hell he wanted.

It would have been a nice story if Dallas came back and won the game after the inspiration of Carlisle’s kicked ball. It would have been a small moment of victory in a season filled mostly with doubt and fear. Dallas came so close to that small moment. That nice story. Dallas came so close, but in the end, Nowitzki kept missing shots as his knee got heavier and heavier. Terry was not enough, and nobody else came close to stepping up.

That kicked ball was ultimately futile even as inspiration. It did not matter. There is no fighting against futility. Not when Oklahoma City has clearly passed Dallas as the superior team. Not when all of Dallas’ useful big men were either injured on the bench or injured on the court. Not when this team’s best days are clearly behind them.

Well, at least the kicked ball was funny. Maybe the players can joke with Carlisle about it in the locker room. That’s sort of a victory, right?

The Verdict

This game started off hot, but the second half was a grind. Add in a slew of turnovers from both teams, and it made for an ugly game. Probably not worth watching unless you want to see Dirk try to morbidly shoot his way into proving he is still injured. Just YouTube the Carlisle thing.

Score: 1/5

Warning: This Review contains spoilers. Read at your own risk.

Bad things happen to good people. It isn’t fair, but the world is chaotic. Cosmic justice doesn’t exist, so sometimes good people get the shaft. Last night’s game between the Kings and the Pacers is an example of this chaos. The Pacers were the better team. They mostly played better. They still lost.

I watched this game after it was already over, so I knew the result of the game before I saw the game itself. The final score (92-88) does not tell the story of the game. I expected this to be a close one where the Pacers displayed how to play basketball correctly (but boringly) and the Kings got by on luck and talent — the score swinging back and forth the entire way.

Midway through the third quarter, it was obvious this was going to be an entirely different story. The Pacers were up by double digits based on playing hard. The Kings didn’t seem to have enough talent to overcome what a fucking mess they are. The quarter ended with the Pacers up fourteen points.

That made the whole thing sadder for me.

It would be one thing to watch the Pacers lose in a game that was close the entire way. I could deal with that. I don’t even particularly like one of these teams over the other. It is how the loss happened that made me so sad.

Watching the Pacers in the fourth quarter was like watching a Greek tragedy. I knew they were doomed. I had the final score. Everything was going wrong, and yet the Pacers were still trying. They still thought they had a shot. I wanted to come to them as a man from the future and explain how hopeless it was.

Through three quarters, the Pacers were on pace to finish with 107 points. Everything was going right for them. They were Oedipus just floating along. They were king. They had the hot wife and some great kids. Suddenly, fouls stopped going their way. Shots stopped falling. It was like they already gouged out their own eyes, they were shooting so bad.

As the fourth quarter death-marched-on, the Pacers slowly started to realize what was happening. It was evident in their body language. The way they stopped looking surprised when they were called for yet another foul. It became clear to them that they were doomed from the start.

The Kings shot 30.1% and missed 23 three-pointers, but they still won. The Pacers shot 43.6% and still lost. There was no significant difference in fouls or rebounds or turnovers. This game wasn’t won or lost because the Kings played better. The Pacers lost this game because the world is chaotic. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Verdict:

This was a very slow game that didn’t become interesting until the Pacers collapsed in the fourth quarter. The first three quarters can be skipped over entirely while still enjoying this game to the max. Even then, it is only worth watching if you like to watch a team that is clearly better completely fall apart in a quarter despite still trying very hard.

Score: 2/5

Warning: This review contains spoilers. Read at your own risk.

When the season ended on the Memphis Grizzlies last year, there was a tiny thought. It was the smallest of questions. It was something people said almost to amuse themselves. What will happen when Rudy Gay is healthy and playing next season? The Grizzlies overachieved in the playoffs. They were an eight seed in the badass Western Conference, yet they ended up moments away from playing in the Western Conference Finals. They did all this without their injured franchise player.

So people asked the question: Are the Grizzlies better without Rudy Gay?

Gay has spent most of this early season so far trying to prove that they are better with him playing. The stage was set for him on this random Tuesday night against the Oklahoma City Thunder. Zach Randolph is injured for a while. The Thunder were the very team to knock the Grizzlies out of the playoffs. The story was set to be an almost triumphant tale — regardless of if it was a tale with any truth. This random Tuesday night could have been Gay’s proof that he succeeded in leading his team to victory against the mighty Thunder when Zach Randolph could not.

Better without me? Gay seemed to ask, The Grizzlies are better without Randolph.

Gay tried to shoot himself into existence. Out of any Grizzlies player with four or more shots, he had by far the worst FG% (about 33%). He took 21 shots — five more than Marc Gasol, the Grizzlies’ leading scorer — yet he only scored 16 points. Of course, the true failure in his stat line was his zero assists. His desperate need to prove himself without any regard to his own team was his own undoing.

Gay had a chance on this night to prove how much better he is than Randolph — his questionable, cancer of a teammate. Instead, he was everything that was wrong with the Grizzlies. He was a tale of hubris — shooting the ball at his own disbelief.

There is no way I miss the next one, the thought practically tumbling out of Gay’s head with every shot.

At some point in the fourth quarter, the defense for both teams made the game an ugly, bloodied mess. Shots were missed all over the place. Suddenly, Memphis started throwing the ball to Marc Gasol, and he scored in bunches. Then Rudy Gay took over, and the Grizzlies lost.

The story of this game was a story of a man not believing the truth about himself until the bitter end.

Rudy Gay is not the Grizzlies’ best player. He only thinks he is.

Verdict:

This game was back-and-forth almost the entire time. It was entertaining and had moments of both beautiful offense and beautiful defense. Rudy Gay’s ultimate failure as a basketball player in this game only added to the story given the game’s tight score and near-playoff atmosphere. This is a game I would watch again.

Score: 4/5

Warning: This review contains spoilers. Read at your own risk.

The story was set up perfectly. On a warm Miami night, the Celtics charged back from being down double digits to win the game. They stepped up as a team while their best player, Paul Pierce was injured. Ray Allen carried them with a barrage of three-pointers on a turn-back-the-clock night while Rajon Rondo played his sidekick, set-up man. It was an example of flashy versus ugly. New versus old. Hip versus Jermaine O’Neal still playing in the league. It was a classic underdog story… until the twist happened and the Heat won.

That twist was Norris Cole.

This was an NBA game for M. Night Shyamalan fans. It started slow — setting the mood of the story. The Heat were crushing the Celtics early on, and it looked like it would be a blowout. It looked like it would be the world’s most boring game — an NBA All-Star game where only one team actually brought the All-Stars. But that slow start was merely setting us up for the payoff later.

The Celtics came roaring back in the third quarter, leading the viewers to believe the classic come-from-behind plot was happening. Nothing is more exciting than a come-from-behind victory – especially when combined with “the-old-guy’s-still-got-it” plot (Ray Allen) and “the-step-it-up-while-our-best-player-is-injured” plot (Ray Allen/Rajon Rondo). The viewers even got a taste of Keyon Dooling becoming an underdog spark off the bench.

When the fourth quarter started, I thought I was sure how the game would end — with a Ray Allen buzzer-beater three-pointer barely winning the game. Instead, the game took an odd turn. Norris Cole took over the game. I never saw it coming. It was this game’s “BRUCE WILLIS IS ACTUALLY DEAD!?!?!?” moment.  It was the perfect plot for this game.

If Lebron James or Dwayne Wade had taken over in the fourth quarter, this game would have been half as interesting.  That plot has been so played out, it has become the standard romantic comedy-type plot of the NBA (you know, boy meets girl, they fall in love, something weird happens, and then they come back together by the end… with a Dwayne Wade dunk? I lost my grip on this metaphor).  There is no catch to that plot. Nothing makes it all that special. So we got Norris Cole instead.

The Miami Heat are the least underdog team in the NBA. Everyone expects them to win, and if they do not, it is kind of a surprise. They are completely unlikeable as a team. That is what makes Norris Cole’s fourth quarter performance in this game so special. That took this game from “pretty good” to “pretty great.”  Norris Cole was the biggest underdog on either team, and he won the game for the Heat.

Verdict:

I doubt I would watch this game again. It started off slow, and it relies heavily on a twist ending. However, I would definitely recommend watching this game to anyone who has never seen it before and does not know how it ends. It is a great one-time-watch, but definitely not an instant classic by any stretch of the imagination.

Score: 3.5/5