North Star Writers Group

Aside from a few blips, it has been an abysmal year for the NBA playoffs. Maybe we’re just spoiled from last year, but aside from the Warriors’ first-round victory, there has been an undeniable void of real drama. Even worse, we’re headed toward another impossibly boring Spurs-Pistons final.

I don’t think LeBron and his band of cronies have enough heart to compensate for the obvious disparity in talent between the Cavs and the Pistons. And although I think almost everyone has been surprised by the Jazz’s resilience against tough opponents, they are not going to knock off Duncan and the Spurs.

I am quite seriously dreading this year’s finals. From a sports fan’s perspective, it’s downright depressing that the two best teams in the NBA are so boring to watch. And in case you’re not sure why, let me give you three reasons.

1. Both teams play good defense. In most other sports, such as football, defense is still entertaining. But as Robert Horry made very clear when he sent Steve Nash flying into the press box, this type of defense does not go over well in basketball. Unlike football, baseball or hockey, in which a defensive battle turns every touchdown, goal or run into a terrifically exciting moment, a defensive battle in basketball creates a frustrating pinball effect on the court, as well as 10 fewer field goals per team. Low-scoring basketball games = sleep-inducing.

2. Neither team’s leader is an entertaining personality. Tim Duncan, who is arguably among the greatest 25 players ever, is not cocky, funny, heroic or obnoxious (aside from a tendency to argue every call against him). He blocks shots, but he doesn’t send the ball sailing into the 10^th row. He makes baskets, but his dunks are plain and everything else is a bank shot. There is an unmistakable lack of pizzazz in everything about him. If he played for the Sixers, I would be his biggest fan. (But as the Sixers proved yet again, they don’t tank a season in order to get a high draft pick. They earn high draft picks with integrity, i.e. genuinely bad players and coaching.)

And on the Pistons side, Chauncey Billups is just too quiet. He is probably arrogant, but not entertainingly arrogant like Shaq, Kobe or Lebron. He doesn’t possess the ability to take over a game that merits the label “superstar”. And like Duncan, he’s a team player who actually plays for a good team, which is extremely limiting in terms of heroism.

3. You can’t love or hate either team. The Suns are lovable, probably because of Steve Nash. So are the Warriors, because they are overachievers. The Lakers are easy to hate, because of Phil Jackson and Kobe, as are the Knicks, because they’re from New York. One could feasibly hate the Spurs because they tanked a season in order to get Duncan. Or one could almost hate the Pistons because of Rasheed Wallace. But I find it difficult to hate either team. They are great teams because they have coachable players who are well-coached, not because they outspend everyone else in the league. And on the other hand, who could love these teams? What is there to love? They’re machines. We need Neo!

I think I may have unearthed the real conspiracy here. The majority of players on both teams were created in test tubes. I’m not 100 percent certain about this just yet, but I think it is a theory worthy of research.

In the meantime, we are all doomed to watch these robotic squads knock off everyone else yet again, concluding in another series through which most of us will nap.

Unless LeBron really is The One, as is the rumor, and we really are all “witnesses” of the “Second Coming”, a boatload of advertisers are going to hell, and the rest of us will feel right there with them as we sit through this year’s NBA Finals.

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