Thursday, June 07, 2007 Sayson: Conquering NBA’s Mt. Everest By Homer Sayson Second Overtime
CHICAGO – I’m hypoallergenic, not photogenic. And that’s why my column picture here isn’t Brad Pitt handsome. Not even remotely close.
But it’s the only picture I got. In the best possible angle, in a most choreographed pose. So you can either ignore that little square, or learn to love it. Either way, get used to it, people.
Because starting today, assuming I meet deadlines, my column will appear daily until the 2007 NBA Finals plays itself out.
The world’s grandest basketball spectacle begins with tomorrow’s Game 1 and will end with a Game 7, if necessary, on June 21.
My on-site coverage starts next week, when I travel to Cleveland for Games 3, 4 and 5. Once on the road, I will also write a daily Finals Diary, as well as a Finals Grapevine.
As always, the Diary and Grapevine will be glazed with enough gossip to make Tito Boy Abunda proud.
Instead of relying on wire stories from AP, my editors have asked me to write the results of each game that I cover on-site. It’s extra work, and straight reporting isn’t my strongest suit, but I look forward to doing it.
As a personal mission, I will endeavor to find Eva Longoria, the not so desperate model-actress who will become Mrs. Tony Parker this July. Luscious Eva is the woman of my dreams, the rock of my Gibraltar, the Coke in my rum.
I will do everything to get her autograph and photograph. I will cook for Eva, mow her lawn, wash her dishes, and valet her car. I will also do her dirty laundry, including her Victoria Secret collection.. Mama Mia!!!
Having said that, let’s get on with the program.
I wrote the other day that the Spurs will beat the Cavs 4-2 in their best-of-7 championship series. I was wrong. The Spurs will annihilate the Cavs.
I’ve grown fond of LeBron James. He is Hercules with a Spalding ball, 6-foot-8 inches long and 240 pounds strong. And he is positively fabulous, entering the NBA Finals with a playoffs average of 25.8 points, 8.3 rebounds and 8.3 assists per game.
LeBron is a man for all NBA seasons, regular season and postseason. He can play defense, dunk, shoot treys, dribble-penetrate, find the open man, and make the big shot. I think he can turn water into wine, too.
But the singular sensation that is LeBron cannot beat the freewheeling, pass-happy and team-oriented ballers from San Antonio.
The Spurs are not just an NBA team. They are an army of 12. Deep as a first love.
San Antonio is more loaded than Adonis Dumpit’s .38 caliber revolver. Like the sharp-shooting patrolman, they are tough and quick, and when the Spurs scratch those itchy fingers, the odds for survival are slimmer than Patricia Javier.
There is a myriad of reasons why Cleveland will capitulate against the potent Spurs. But let me give you the most significant one — Tim Duncan, the 6-foot-11 juggernaut who is having the postseason of his life by averaging 23.2 points, 11.4 rebounds and 3.31 blocks a game.
A three-time NBA Finals MVP, Duncan is as dependable as a woman’s intuition. He has a soft touch around the perimeter, a toughness under the basket. Who among the Cavs will defend him?
Zydrunas Ilgauskas? Nope.
Anderson Varejao? I don’t think so.
Drew Gooden? No way, Jose.
Donyell Marshall? Oh, please.
Those aforementioned Cavs stand at least 6-foot-9 tall. They all have the height and might, but not enough fight to conquer the Mt. Everest that is Tim Duncan.
The truth is, no one in Cleveland, and no one in the entire state of Ohio, can stop Tim Duncan.
The Cavs are having a Cinderella season, I know. But the Spurs represent midnight. And this time LeBron’s glass Nike sneakers won’t fit for a championship.
