Like: "so do you ever think about the different path your life might have taken if you had been the son your father named 'O'Lewis Jr.'?" Or, "I've been meaning to ask someone what's it like to be arrested for lynching…" But this was back in the day as they said back in the day. And he had just signed a contract with Adidas, which used to outfit the Nazis, and I wrote a story that was all, "Kevin Garnett Tim Duncan whatevs." And Adidas was kind of proud of this fact because they'd just disposed of Kobe and then he had gone and raped some girl, but none of this did anything for sneaker sales.

In any case, sometimes I think that it's bad that the internet gives everyone access to all this personal information about total strangers they might someday meet and think, "hey, I saw you on the sex offender registry," because it sort of takes the element of discovery out of first encounters, but I didn't realize there was such a wealth of discoverable nuggets of information to learn about Kevin, and that, I guess, is the difference between known and unknown unknowns, or as Malcolm Gladwell would put it, "puzzles" and "mysteries." Watergate, he wrote, was a puzzle; Enron was a mystery; and I am getting the sense that Kevin Garnett's future in the playoffs is out of our hands, but that said it seems to be what everyone's writing about this morning so I thought I'd start there.

After watching Garnett struggle through a workout ,Rivers told the station he's pretty convinced that KG won't be able to run up and down the court without the damn knee swelling up.

"After watching him run, there's no way. So, we're going to move without him. And the way I saw him move today guys, I don't know if he'll be ready."

This means more playing time for Big Baby Davis, but it also means that all networks airing Celtics games throughout the playoffs will be required to have the Willis Reed clip on standby should Garnett limp out of the locker room.

The Celtics begin their quest for a repeat this Saturday against Chicago.

Rivers: Garnett likely out for playoffs [Boston.com]

The goofy looks around the bar at halftime betrayed any fear of jinxing; this title was happening, and one couldn't pretend otherwise. The dominance of the Celtics was overwhelming, all-encompassing and enthralling; it really had the feel of a Harlem Globetrotters-Washington Generals game. Down the stretch, it was like a band winding down a great set. There's Big Baby Davis with a dunk! Leon Powe! Eddie House! Give it up for James Posey! Everybody got their moment. What drama was sucked out by the blowout was more than made up for by the emotional earthquake afterwards; we were legitimately frightened Kevin Garnett was going to explode into a splash of blood and confetti.

It was a celebration, a reminder of what Boston basketball once was and what it was again. We found it best not to attach the Celtics to the Patriots and the Red Sox; let the true diehards have their moment, for they had earned it. (Though if the Celtics win again next year, all bets are off.)

We'll talk about Kobe Bryant and how no one can ever think of him the same, no matter what happens the rest of his career, a little later. For now, we congratulate the Celtics and their fans; these come along rarely, even for Boston fans, and must be held as tightly, for as long, as possible.

Los Angeles 1, Boston 0.

No, that’s not a typo.

From my vantage point, the Lakers won Game 1 of the NBA Finals. I’m not making such a claim in protest — I’m not questioning a particular foul call or coaching move. I’m making that claim because I stopped watching near the end of the second quarter. The Lakers were ahead 45 to 42 and I was sitting in the kitchen, watching the game on my computer. And I was tired. In my defense, it was 4:13 in the morning.

I wasn’t using TiVo or a DVR or the old 2-head RCA my parents held onto until its work to tape-digestion ratio was 1:3. The explanation is simpler: I’m in Spain. That I was able to watch the game at all is a minor miracle. That I made the effort to suffer through extreme fatigue to view a basketball game can only be explained by two things. The first is the same reason shared by anyone else born prior to 1980 — for historical reasons, it’s a compelling series.

The second reason is a little more interesting. I haven’t seen a single NBA game this year. I don’t watch much basketball anyway, but my location for the season — playing for a team on the island of Menorca, where TNT isn’t exactly a fixture on the local channel menu — didn’t help.

My lack of exposure to the NBA was disappointing because of the Boston Celtics.

Like 70 percent of the white males my age, I grew up idolizing Larry Bird. Like those same guys, I hated the Lakers. Like them, too, I learned about basketball by watching the Celtics.

But that’s not why I wanted to watch the Celtics this year. I’ve played in the NBA. Not to be condescending — I, of anyone, have no room to judge — but once I saw what went on outside the big top, the circus lost its luster.

However, there have been some singular personalities along the way. One of them is Kevin Garnett. After spending a training camp with Garnett in Minnesota, I was oddly fascinated with how he would adapt to a new team.

Because I know how to read, and because the phone company in Menorca was able to hook up an internet connection in eight short weeks, I was able to keep up with the Celtics’ progress. It seemed like they were doing okay without my constant observation.

At the same time, another man around whom I spent some time in training camp, one Kobe Bryant, was making a run toward the postseason, and toward the MVP award.

As the Finals drew near, I was actually a little excited by the prospect of watching basketball. The Lakers against the Celtics. Again, obviously, a big deal. But more important, from my perspective anyway, it was a matchup of two of the most impressive basketball personalities with whom I’ve spent any time. They were impressive for completely different reasons, but I’ll get to that.

First, I have to explain how I came to be able to watch the game at all.

When my season ended in Menorca, I “moved” to Barcelona. I’m in the city for reasons that are part of a moderately romantic story that would pique the interest of anyone with a pulse. But that story isn’t why we’re here.

Basketball is big in Spain, but it has not yet climbed any higher than number 16 in the ranking of the country’s most popular sport. Number one being by Champions League Soccer, number 15 being rec soccer played by sufferers of spina bifida.

While basketball continues to play the proverbial second fiddle, its popularity has grown thanks to a very tall Spaniard who plays almost no on-the-ball defense and who wears the raggediest beard this side of Artis Gilmore.

Pau Gasol is from Barcelona. As such, and because these are the NBA Finals , I assumed that it wouldn’t be difficult to find a place to watch the game. Big city, Spanish participant — surely the late start wouldn’t be a problem.

By 2:24 a.m., I had finally succeeded. I was settled in a stool in a Mexican bar on my street, watching Robin Roberts dissect the evolution of the sky hook. I didn’t know why she was dissecting the evolution of the sky hook. Maybe, I thought, they were about to show the 1987 NBA Finals.

Getting to Robin Roberts took some doing.

I started on the Rambla — the street every tourist in Barcelona knows. I hoped that an Irish pub I’d seen might be of some help.

It was not. I did receiver my first clue though: a map marked with the locations of other similarly themed places of business. I quickly learned though, that the Irish and the English have even less interest in basketball…

“The N – B – what?”

Next plan: canvass the neighborhood. I had another lead, given to me by one of my few friends in the city. But the place was closed for construction. Upon exiting the former Linea 6.25, I asked a waiter at a nearby restaurant if he had any ideas. He did: a bar called Bagoa, which he claimed was always open til 5 and which supposedly showed NBA games—a fact to which he could attest, having stopped by many times after work. For some reason, his lazy eye actually made him seem more trustworthy, at least on this particular subject.

After some sleuthery, I found Bagoa. The bartender seemed shocked that I would imply that they would stay open past 2 am. Tip-off—3 a.m. I was beginning to lose faith. And my dwindling hopes were thanks to encounters with the one problem I didn’t think I’d have. In Spain, supper doesn’t even start til midnight.

I went next door, where the bartender said, “Did you try Bagoa? They’re always open until at least 4 or 5.” Obviously, there was a breakdown in communication between proprietor and the general public at the venerable Bagoa.

Next up: another English pub. According to the blond youth behind the counter, they MIGHT be open until 3.

I put some other Barcelona contacts on the case…nothing.

I asked around in the district known as the Born. Everyone looked at me like I was an insane person.

And then, inspiration: Why not the Mexican bar that is all of 4 paces from my front door? It wasn’t exactly what I had envisioned, which was a rowdy pub filled with Spanish dudes, some of whom were clapping me on the back whenever Gasol made a fallaway. In fact, when Robin Roberts was on the screen, I wasn’t even sure I’d make it to tip-off; it looked for all the world like they were about to throw me out. But at least I can say that I watched James Taylor do the national anthem in El Ultimo Agave.

Of course, I’m not sure if what they were showing was ’08 James Taylor or ’87 James Taylor. I doubt the crowd recognized much of a difference.

When El Ultimo Agave kicked out its ultimo customer (me), I reported upstairs to my computer. I had done some work earlier in the evening and had learned a little about how to watch live sports over the internet using means of questionable legality. For me, the answer was a program or protocol or plugin called SopCast. I had doubts as to whether it would work consistently but, lo and behold, there was Mark Jackson making grand statements with a complete lack of any sense of restraint or irony.

It didn’t take me long to remember why I had wanted to watch the game in the first place.

I should add a disclaimer here. I wrote a book about a few years of my basketball career. In that book, I did my best not to be too judgmental. But I failed on several occasions. Certain people were just that difficult to be around. One of those people is Kobe Bryant.

My first NBA training camp was with the Los Angeles Lakers. I quickly realized that Kobe Bryant was selfish, arrogant, and completely insufferable. I also quickly realized that he is extraordinarily talented. Like, really, really good. But then, something else: People allowed all of the former because of the latter. In fact, many people assumed that part of the reason for the latter was the former: that Kobe Bryant is so good BECAUSE he’s selfish, arrogant, and completely insufferable. For a while, even though I couldn’t stand him as a human being, I bought their reasoning. They must be right, I thought—these people probably know more about basketball than I do.

But then I made a few more stops on the career Tilt-a-Whirl. I spent time with Steve Nash, Shareef Abdur-Rahim, and, most applicable to this discussion, with Kevin Garnett.

Kevin Garnett is also extraordinarily talented. Like, really, really good. And at first, I was afraid that he too suffered from the same syndrome as Bryant. His first words to me weren’t even spoken to me—they were spoken around me, as I ventured onto the court for my first pre-preseason pickup game.

“I don’t know who that white boy is. He doesn’t get to play yet.”

It was not love at first sight.

But over the three weeks I spent around the man in training camp, I developed a relatively deep respect for him. I qualify that respect only because I realize that three weeks doesn’t seem all that long. An experience like an NBA training camp is something of a pressure cooker, though, and teammates learn about one another’s character very quickly.

Kevin Garnett shares some of Bryant’s personality traits. He’s arrogant…but he realizes it. He can be insufferable…but he laughs about it. He’s intense…but he can turn it off.

The contrast between the two was evident even in the first quarter of the first game of this year’s Finals. Bryant took bad shot after bad shot, with no one questioning his decisions. For whatever reason, people—including the self-professed guru of coaching team-oriented basketball—assume that closely guarded fadeaways with a 25% likelihood of success are better since they’re taken by the team’s superstar.

Meanwhile, Garnett was playing fairly well. But that’s not the important part. It was evident, just from watching his face that Garnett was, of all things, nervous.

And I guess that’s why I liked him so much when I spent three weeks in the Timberwolves’ training camp. Kevin Garnett is almost like the rest of us. He’s gets nervous like the rest of us…laughs at himself like the rest of us…sees how ridiculous his job is, just like the rest of us. Kobe Bryant thinks that it’s perfectly normal that he is widely considered to be the best player in basketball.

Kevin Garnett is like the sane person who thinks he might be going crazy. Kobe Bryant is the crazy person who thinks that everyone else is insane.

Of course, for all my love of Kevin Garnett, and for all the distaste I happen to have for Kobe Bryant and the style of basketball he represents to me, Bryant’s Lakers were winning when I gave up on the game.

And so, grudgingly, I have to admit that—just like in 1987—sometimes the bad guys win.

In short games that end because the viewer gets bored and sleepy.

Not even Hawks fans understand what's happening.

From where we were coming home after Game 2 to where we are now, it's just night and day. I'm trying to think of an adjective to describe the win and the energy in the building, but the Thesaurus is failing me, so I am forced to make up my own words. It was spectnomenal. It was fantasterful. It was ricoculous.

If you think Hawks fans are stunned, though, man, Celtics fans sound downright lobotomized.

Did that really just happen? Was it all a bad dream? I knew going to bed last night that those would be my first thoughts waking up. I have to admit that I'm still dumbfounded. I don't know if I'm supposed to sooth people's fears and assure them that everything's going to be alright or if I should be slamming on the panic button and declaring a threat level green in Celtic Nation.

Inevitably, the spotlight is falling on Kevin Garnett, who, jeez, can he really come up short again? (Garnett wasn't much help late last night.)

Listen, it still seems pretty likely that the Celtics are gonna win this series. But, man, the Hawks suddenly got awfully scary. A first-round exit? For the team the reinvigorated basketball in Boston? No way that could happen, right? Right?

• Revenge. In the first regular-season game between Kevin Garnett and the bouquet of former Celtics traded for him, Boston struggled to put away Minnesota, 87-86. Kendrick Perkins finished with 21 points, including a go-ahead put-back with 16.6 seconds left, and Garnett added 10 points and 16 boards despite leaving the game for 4 minutes with an abdominal strain. "It felt like I got sniped from the rafters or something, you know," KG said. "I just had a sharp pain come from my stomach and I just wanted the doctors to look at it. They looked at it and said I was fine, so I came back out." Man, for someone who regularly hunts squirrels and shit, Kevin McHale is one bad shot.

• What Is "Real"? How Do You Define "Real"? Shawn Marion dropped in a silky baseline floater with 1.1 seconds left for his only field goal as the Suns melted Cleveland with a season-high 17 3-pointers in a 110-108 over the Cavaliers. Raja Bell scored 27 points and Steve Nash added 26 — 21 on 3-pointers. That's real, son.

• Flying High. Peja Stojakovic — and his goatee — nailed five 3-pointers in a four-minute span in the third to lead the Hornets over the Clippers 111-92. The win was NO's seventh straight. New Orleans made 14 3-pointers over all, including 12 in the second half. "I don't know how to explain that," said Peja, who finished with 26 points overall. "You always think: 'You never know if you don't try.' You've got to let it fly. Some nights they go in, some nights not." That sounded like poetry.

• Mind Boggling. Whatever you do, DON'T look at the Western Conference playoff standings this morning. It's a holy hot mess of crowded. Carlos Boozer made his first 13 shots and scored 33 points to lead the Jazz over the Kings 127-113. And in Portland, Tracy McGrady had 15 points and Carl Landry added 12 and eight as the Rockets snapped the Blazers' 12-game home-winning streak with an 89-79 win. I think the Nuggets won too.

• You Should've Heard What They Yelled At Tamia! Grant Hill shrugged off relentless boos from his former fans for 14 points, eight boards and no injuries as the Suns beat the Magic 106-96. Leandro Barbosa, who absolutely loves living on Planet Orange, scored a career-high 39 points in the win.

• Hell, Paxson Would Trade For Coby Karl Right About Now. A restless United Center crowd started the wave after the Bulls fell behind 30-plus points in the fourth. That's really all you need to know. Raps 101, Bulls a lot less.

• Denver Digs Deep. Real deep. Trailing by 25 points in the first half, the Nuggs used Carmelo Anthony's 32 points and 10 rebounds to pull off the monster come-from-behind victory over the Pacers, 113-106. Indiana has now lost three in a row after starting the season 3-0. They are who we thought they are ... white dudes!

"We are just scratching the surface on what we can do,'' Pierce said. "We enjoy seeing the next player make a great play and no one cares who gets credit.'' Everything should be fine, as long as they keep running the pick and roll!

• A Cuttino Above. And what the hell is going on with the Clippers? Even though they are missing Elton Brand, Shaun Livingston, Cuttino Mobley and Ruben Patterson (the latter two exiting with injuries in the first quarter on Wednesday), they keep winning. Sam Cassell scored 35 points to lead Los Angeles (4-0) to a 104-89 win over the Pacers.

• Cafe Nervosa. The SuperSonics lost their fifth straight — not the best of beginnings for a team trying to avoid moving to Oklahoma — as Rudy Gay scored 25 points in the Grizzlies' 105-98 win. Kevin Durant scored 17 points for Seattle, off to its worst start in 38 years.

• Boiling Point. Hmm, has there ever been a year in which both an NFL and NBA team from the same city have gone winless? Manu Ginobili had 25 points to lead the Spurs past the Heat 88-78, Miami falling to 0-4.

No site captures this feel more than the great Free Darko, which we read like a doctor's chart every day during the NBA season. They understand the dichotomy between individual achievement and collective glory, and how those are not mutually exclusive. And they've got a way with letters too. Right now, they're actually doing a writeup on every single NBA player.

Therefore, we've asked them to look at the arcs of certain players going into this season, what 2007-08 means to them, their teams and their legacies. They'll be previewing a player a day, up to tipoff.

Today: Kevin Garnett. Your author is Dr. Lawyer IndianChief. His words are after the jump.

——————————————-

Kevin Garnett is the moral center of the NBA universe and the newfound spokesman for the league after being traded from Minnesota to Boston this summer. As a Timberwolves fan since Sidney Lowe was running point with Sam Mitchell on the wing, my NBA offseason felt like a parental divorce, a reincarnation, a bar mitzvah and a funeral all in one. I revoke a mentor, I breathed anew, I grew up a little bit, and I performed mummification and ancestral worship rituals at the site of a lost loved one. My forecast for KG's season will read as the NBA fan's seven stages of grief.

1. Underwhelmed dullness. I always thought it would hurt more than it actually did, but my rationalization mechanisms kicked in immediately. A general desensitizing hum accompanied my complete lack of surprise, given that the Timberwolves had already reportedly been shopping KG around the time of the draft. His conclusion in Minnesota seemed logical — occurring neither after some definitive dispute with management nor at the end of a wearied contract. This departure was as anticlimactic as the Timberwolves last season, as they finished in the dungeons of the Western Conference while KG rode the bench with "tendonitis." Tabula Rasa, KG takes a new step forward with the Celtics.

2. Existential Void. When a player goes to Boston, he does not ascend to a grander stage, but rather he is engulfed by a cosmic vortex of muscle encased in a stratosphere of HGH clouds and musk. From the synaptic firings in Peter Gammons' brain to the Red Sox cap worn by the 14-year-old girl in Newton, there's a poison going on. Boston is sports hell. When a player departs to Chicago, the world embraces him. In New York or LA, that player will be ogled and monitored like some Komodo Dragon exhibit at the Aquarium. But for any player to go to Boston means that he has committed to a light of arguing with ESPN at night over who stole the covers. As blatant as KG's existence is on Sports Illustrated covers and in Adidas commercials, it is now as though he doesn't exist at all.

3. Bitter Well-wishing. KG is That Dude. Here's to a million more triple-doubles in losing efforts. The Celtics could win the Eastern Conference. But winning the Eastern Conference doesn't mean shit. New Jersey is probably gonna be real good. With Jamal Magloire. And with David Wesley. Yeah, New Jersey is gonna be trouble for Boston. Don't sleep on New Jersey. Or the Knicks.

But seriously. I'm just happy that KG looks the happiest he's been for a while.

4. Concern for Legacy. The old conventional wisdom, partially perpetuated by me, was to explain Tim Duncan's championship success (compared to the KG dearth) by essentially text messaging, "DUNCAN HAD ALL THAT HELP HE HAD PARKER AND GINOBILI IMAGINE WHAT GARNETT COULD DO WITH HELP." New conventional wisdom is, KG, be careful what you wish for. See, now it's like, Duncan grabbed those two post-Admiral rings with only Manu and Tony P by his side. If Garnett can't capture the Larry O'Brien trophy rolling with Paul Pierce and Ray Allen—two proven alpha dog all-stars—then really what is his fairytale? KG's career to this point has been chalk full of built-in excuses: Starbury's departure, the death of Malik Sealy, the failure to resign Chauncey Billups, lost draft picks because of the Joe Smith scandal, the Cassell & Sprewell contract flare-ups. KG truly loved his Minnesota situation, because it came with those apologies. One could blame Kevin McHale or Glen Taylor or the heavens for all of Minnesota's struggles. But now you stand at centerstage. And now the failure to win a championship will fall squarely on your shoulders. Ask AI (that formerly rugged emblem of underdogged Philadelphia) how he likes his legacy dying a slow baby blue death.

5. Resuscitation. Time to exhale. The Target Center has taken on the character of an elephant graveyard for the past few seasons. Every corporate sponsor-entrusted ticket holder has been walking around with blue hair and clenched cheeks wondering when somebody would finally machete that tension. Is it strange to say that watching a team headed by Al Jefferson will be more enjoyable than watching that same team led by KG for the past two years? There is nothing more frustrating than watching a player who does everything. Those players are never good. Watching KG's teams was like watching daytime Emmy award winners. Sebastian Telfair and Corey Brewer running around recklessly is like Mr. Wizard. Again, the legacy issue. KG go forth, but if the Timberwolves win one more game than last year (33), you have some serious soul-searching to do.

6. Confusion. Kevin Garnett is on the Celtics. Tell me that even he doesn't think he looks weird wearing that shamrock green. "HAS THE BALANCE OF POWER SHIFTED TO THE EAST?!" No. But grown men walk the forests with no identities. No selfs.

7. Disdain. KG is the prime exemplar of this new genre of athlete that I like to call, the passive-aggressive toddlers (PATs). Donovan McNabb plays quarterback for that team. Shaq is center. These guys are masterful interview subjects, they keep the fans in their pocket and always deflect blame toward someone else—usually some invisible front office figure caricatured to look like Rich Uncle Pennybags. They never admit their hypocrisy, preferring to redefine what their definition of "is" is. Whereas guys like T.O., A-Rod, and Kobe just kind of bug us, the PATs are worse, because they portray an illusion of "taking the high road." With KG, I have documented all of these transgressions in more depth here. But a recent Slam Interview, in which he talks about being betrayed by the Timberwolves front office, dumped like a lousy boyfriend, blindsided ... how he never asked for a trade ... how saddened he was by Flip Saunders' departure ... all of that verbosity really reopened wounds for me. And whatever is coming from Garnett's mouth stinks something awful.

At the time of the coaching switch...KG called McHale taking over for Saunders a "breath of fresh air."

In an interview last year, ALSO with Slam's Lang Whitaker, KG practically begged to leave Minnesota.

Not to mention his famous "Thank God for opt-outs" muckraking at the trade deadline.

We're not that stupid, KG. We remember all the good times and we remember the petty chatter as well. It's gonna be a good year for you, but it will never feel the same.

• Cubs In First!. The very red-haired Matt Murton, who was in the minors less than a week ago, scored on Brett Myers' bases-loaded wild pitch in the ninth as Chicago beat Philadelphia 5-4 on Wednesday. Combined with Milwaukee's 8-5 loss to the Mets, that vaults the Cubs into first place in the NL Central, one percentage point ahead of the Brewers. Time to mambo!

• One Is The Lonliest Number. Barry Bonds was 0-for-3 with an intentional walk as the Dodgers came back late for a 6-4 win over the Giants. And might I add that I have never seen so many swinging bunts for base hits in one contest, ever.

• OK Braves, Here's Your Division Title. Mark Teixeira wasted no time impressing his new employers, as his three-run homer led the Braves to a 12-3 win over the Astros. Teixeira was acquired from Texas on Tuesday in a seven-player trade.

• For Whom The Bell Tolls. Buddy Bell announced that he will quit as manager of the last-place Royals at the end of the season; KC then charged out and beat the Twins 5-3 in 10 innings at the Metrodome. Bell will join the Royals' front office braintrust.

Three views of Garnett in Boston:

• The Sports Feller: "All three [Garnett, Ray Allen, Paul Pierce] are about to become relevant again in April, May and June. Would you bet against them having monster seasons? Would you bet against them embarking on a 100-game mission to make the Finals? Hell, have three star teammates ever had more to prove in one season?"

• Empty The Bench: "Garnett's conscience has handcuffed him to failure for years, but was it merely due to the sub-par teams he was on? Could a selfless and conscientious player who cares more for the game than himself succeed in this game? Perhaps we have the rare opportunity to find out."

• Simon On sports: "Can we not ignore the fact that only two months ago Garnett wanted absolutely nothing to do with Boston? This deal was set months ago but KG didn't want to deal with the wintry weather. He vetoed the deal, aka gave Boston a big middle finger, why should we ignore this fact, I certainly refuse to."

We always enjoy such pre-draft trade talk, because it further illustrates that the most exciting part of the NBA these days involves salary caps, draft slots and superstar appeasement. Seriously, have they played a game since LeBron's explosion against the Pistons? Before that, it was just the Warriors-Mavericks, right?

Anyway, probably worth checking out Inside Hoops every 10 minutes for the next 48 hours. One never knows.

Suns Back In Kevin Garnett Chase [ESPN]

• Steve Nash Eaten By Wolves. A motivated Kevin Garnett is a thing to behold. The Phoenix Suns were just one win short of going through January without a loss, before Garnett stopped them with 44 points and 11 rebounds in Minnesota's 121-112 win on Monday, snapping the Suns' 17-game win streak. Garnett scored 15 points in the fourth quarter. Raja Bell had 26 points for Phoenix.

• It Wasn't Supposed To Go Like This, Was It? Tough times in Denver. Allen Iverson and Carmelo Anthony were both injured in Charlotte's 105-101 win over the Nuggets; Gerald Wallace had 25 points and 13 rebounds to lead the winners. Iverson (31 points) sprained his right ankle and Anthony (25) sprained his left wrist as the Nuggets lost their third straight. Well, things could be worse. You could be Latrell Sprewell.

• Surprise, Surprise!. We love it when they go for the win. Down by two with time about to expire, Vince Carter opted for a 3 instead of a two and hit it just before the buzzer, giving the Nets a 116-115 win over the Jazz.

• Not Your Average Joe. Joe Johnson got his third 30-point game with 34 points (22 in the second half), leading Atlanta over Orlando 93-83. Ther Hawks hope to have point guard Speedy Claxton back to practice today. Claxton has missed 15 games with a sore knee.

I've been critical of David Stern and his obsessively fascist measures to cultivate a friendly, lilly-white non-threatening image for the NBA, but perhaps I was misguided on that.

Because when you see something like the video above, you realize just how deep the NBA's image problem goes. If this sort of thing continues, everyone's going to start thinking the NBA's superstar players are... well... a bunch of panty-wearing mimsies who are incapable of violence under any circumstance.

It's time to encourage players wear brass knucks, bulletproof vests, prison shanks in their socks... anything that will make someone feel tough. It's time for a leaguewide memo that reads something like, "Alright, boys. On Wednesday, January 24th, if you want to get in a fight, just this once, I'll look the other way... because I need someone to throw a punch and not look like Richard Simmons in the process, otherwise, people are going to start watching hockey."

The mad geniuses at Free Darko aren't taking the summer off: They're finding absolute gems like this video, which features Timberwolves superstar Kevin Garnett gets his Bob Harris on while visiting an Asian television show.

Clean your ear, baby ... clean your ear.

The People's Champ [Free Darko]