Phoenix led for most of the game and seemed to be in control of things midway through the fourth quarter when Gregg Popovich went to the old Hack-A-Shaq strategy. Sure enough, The Big Brick missed both free throws and got yanked from the game. Could you call the move cheesy and pathetic? Sure. But the Spurs call it championship basketball. And it worked. With Shaq on the bench, San Antonio came back to take their first lead of the game. But the Suns maintained their composure and had a 3-point lead in the closing seconds before Michael Finley tied it with a clutch three-ball. Then it was on to overtime, where the Suns still seemed destined to win — despite the fact that Amare Stoudemire (33 points, 7 rebounds) fouled out — until Duncan hit his own clutch three to tie things up again. (And trust me: That was exactly the shot Phoenix wanted San Antonio to take in that situation.)

The Spurs were holding onto their own three-point lead late in the second overtime when Steve Nash (24 points, 13 assists) hit a corner three while almost falling out of bounds to tie the game at 115. But then Manu Ginobili (24 points) took it to the rack and scored the go-ahead basket with less than two seconds left. The Suns were out of timeouts, and Nash's three-quarters court heave was off the mark.

Memo to the Locksmith: Stop tugging on Superman's cape. After watching LeBron James score 20 of his 32 points in the second half, DeShawn Stevenson's swag reserves were running pretty low. And, not surprisingly, the words "overrated" didn't cross his lips a second time. "The talking is over. I didn't say anything to him and he didn't say anything to me. The series has already started. We don't need to talk. We all know what's in the air. I said what I had to say. He (James) is a good player. I do what I can to get under his skin, on and off the court."

Turn's out King James has pretty thick skin. And so do the rest of the Cavs, who responded to Agent Zero's "everybody wants Cleveland in that first round" challenge by beating the Wizards 93-86 to take a 1-0 series lead. LeBron got a little help from friends Zydrunas Ilgauskas (22 points, 11 rebounds), Delonte West (16 points, 5 assists) and Boobie Gibson (11 points off the bench). And then James stuck his own non-trash talk dagger into Washington's back. "93-86 is the only words I need to say."

Gilbert Arenas scored 24 for Washington before fouling out. Antawn Jamison had 23 points and 19 rebounds, and Brendan Haywood added 15 and 10. Stevenson, for all his ballsy bluster, scored only 3 points on 1-for-9 shooting.

Hey, Dirk. You still like this matchup? Chris Paul rocked his first-ever playoff game- - 35 points, 10 assists, 4 steals — and the New Orleans Hornets made Dirk Nowitzki eat his words by beating Dallas in Game 1 by the score of 104-92. Paul scored 15 of those points in the third quarter to help his team overcome a 12-point deficit and take control of the game for good. But Nowitzki — who inexplicably went all "tough guy" on David West — isn't worried. Or at least he's pretending not to be. "It's one game. The team that loses has to go back, adjust and find ways to get it done the next game." Suuuuure, Dirk. Hey, how's that worked out for you the last two years?

Thet Hornets also got strong games from West (23 points, 8 rebounds), Tyson Chandler (10 points, 15 rebounds) and Peja Stojakovic (14 points, 4-for-8 from three-point range). Herr Nowitzki had a double-double (31 points, 10 boards), Josh Howard scored 17, and Jason Kidd almost had a triple-double (11 points, 9 rebounds, 9 assists) when he wasn't getting lit up by CP3.

We don't need no stinking home court advantage! That whole "they can't win on the road" thing didn't phase the Utah Jazz, who stormed the Rockets' house, pooped in the refrigerator, ate the whole wheel of cheese, and won the first game of the series 93-82. Deron Williams (20 points, 10 assists) and Carlos Boozer (20 points, 16 rebounds) got compared to John Stockton and Karl Malone about a dozen (or so) times, and Andre Kirilenko both scored (21 points, 8-for-12 from the field) and harrassed Tracy McGrady into a poor shooting night (7-for-21). And now the Jazz — who were an NBA-best 34-7 at home this season — have the homecourt advantage going their way. (Translation: T-Mac had better invest in some of those facial tissues with lotion; they won't leave his nose all dry and irritated.)

The Rockets — who were without starting point guard Rafer Alson (strained right hamstring) — got 22 points (7-for-7) from Shane Battier, 20 (along with 6 rebounds and 7 assists) from McGrady, and 14 (and 13 boards) from Luis Scola. But Bobby Jackson, who replaced Alston in the starting lineup, shot only 3-for-15, and none of Houston's reserves were able to make an impact off the bench. Said McGrady: "They've kind of taken away our first option and we're a little stagnated on the offensive end and don't know what else to do. We're all out of sync and we don't have too many guys out there who can create their own shot." Yep, that about covers it. Remember, Tracy: Get the Kleenex with lotion. Trust me on this one.

San Antonio won 117-115 in double overtime to take the 1-0 series lead. Timothy Duncan finished with a cool ranch 40 points. Stay tuned for Game 2, when more rarities surface: Shaquille O'Neal makes a 3-point shot. Bruce Bowen helps up the guy he just knocked down. And Steve Nash guards someone.

(Ok, this is the last post of the day. Unless...)

You want to know how truly lopsided this game was? Well, my friend Matty and I talk during the occasional regular season game. The frequency of phone calls increase as we get further into the post season. We have exchanged literally hundreds of phone calls over the years and not once have we ever talked during actual game play. We've always limited discussion to commercials only... until tonight, during the second quarter. The game, and this series, was that over. O-V-E-R.

Sure, you say, the Cavs were down 2-0 to the Pistons and won the next four. But those two games were relatively close. This one? Well, if you watched "The Sopranos" last night, you didn't miss much here. (Those of us who taped it to watch afterwards hardly found it worth our while.) We congratulate the Spurs. That doesn't make it any more fun.

Damon Jones (+19) is the Answer! [Pounding The Rock]

Duncan looked around in bewildered laughter. "Did you watch last series? (laughs) No, it's not the most physical I've been in. Those guys last series were a lot more physical than these guys."

And then D'Antoni let out a sarcastic, "Oh, really?" and followed it with, "Yeah! Well, half of it. Their half. Now we gotta make it our half. So, yeah, it's very physical."

And there you have it. Mike D'Antoni sees the series as a brutal carnival of pain, while Tim Duncan laughs at the notion that that it's even remotely physical. And I love Tim Duncan, don't get me wrong, but this is not Charles Oakley we're talking about. To that same question, Oak would have rolled his eyes and made a jack-off gesture.

Add this to Amare Stoudamire's bitching about Bruce Bowen being dirty (he kneed Steve Nash in the balls last night, too, and it looked soft of intentional) and anyone's total refusal to do anything about Bruce Bowen being dirty, and you've got your difference here. The Suns are soft. S-O-F-capital T ... sofT. And it's not a particularly hard team that's making them look that way.

Meanwhile, back in the Eastern Conference, the best player in either game yesterday was Jason Kidd, who racked up his 11th career playoff triple-double (23, 13, and 14 ... damn), leaving him behind only Magic Johnson on that list (with an incredible 30).

New Jersey 96, Cleveland 85 [ESPN]
Phoenix 101, San Antonio 108 [ESPN]

NBA ref Joey Crawford must've woken up this morning under the mistaken impression that Tim Duncan was Rasheed Wallace. Crawford gave Duncan one technical as Duncan questioned a call while sitting on the bench.

Minutes later, a call (and a bad one, I should note) went against Spurs forward Fabricio Oberto, and while Duncan and Robert Horry laughed about something (probably the call, but who knows?), Joey Crawford elected to give Duncan a second technical and eject him from the game. Horry found the whole thing hilarious.

This is Tim Duncan, the Stone Buddha himself, we're talking about. I don't know how old Joey Crawford is, but when you're at the point where you're giving guys technical fouls because you think they might be laughing at you... I don't know, it might be time to give it up.

It came down to one 14-second possession for the Mavs, in need of two points to force overtime. Dirk Nowitzki was hassled by Bruce Bowen, and he couldn't get a shot off. He went cross-court to Jerry Stackhouse, Manu Ginobili tipped the pass, bought the Spurs some time, and pinned Stackhouse in the corner, forcing an airball as time expired.

I thought the Spurs might have been a little vulnerable today, given the 36-hour rest, the travel, and the physical six-game series, but then again, the Mavs have had a long layoff themselves. Regardless, both teams played Game One at a pretty high level, and this has the potential to really be an incredible series.

Spurs 87, Mavericks 85 [ESPN.com]
Mark Cuban Would Like To Remind You Who, In Fact, He Is [Deadspin]

I round the corner to see Tim Duncan forcibly holding a girl around the waist with one arm to sit on his lap and is wiggling her around like a grinding lap-dance motion.

Yeah. It gets worse. Enjoy the rest after the jump.

I attended UNC-Chapel Hill. During the 1996-97 hoops season, I was a bouncer in a bar on Franklin Street called Papagayos, which sadly no longer exists. This particular evening the Heels had lost at home to Tim Duncan and Wake Forest. After the game, UNC center and dorky german 7 footer Serge Zwikker made an appearance at the bar. After a few quick drinks, Zwikker and friends left due the amount of jeers and rebukes. On his way out, some Heels fans pelted him with balled-up bar napkins.

Shortly after he leaves, in rolls Tim Duncan with some nondescript non-basketball player. Instantly the bar starts buzzing, as Duncan was dominating the ACC and NCAA at this point, a clear lottery pick. The very same dickhead frat boy UNC students that were harassing Serge immediately fall all over themselves to kiss his ass and buy him drinks. Tim takes it all in stride, happily obliging the sycophants, all dudes. I was working the door, and it wasn't that crowded (slow tues or wed night) so I just stayed at my post, happily zoned out. About an hour later a girl (hot petite blond sorority type; at UNC, they are a dime a dozen) in a panic and tells me someone is molesting her friend at a corner table. As the only bouncer, it is my job to keep order, and I was always quick to eject anyone I heard using racial slurs, homophobes, or harassing women.

(Full disclosure: I am six-foot, 220, an avid martial artist and enjoyed opening the door with people's faces when they had it coming.)

I round the corner to see Tim Duncan forcibly holding a girl around the waist with one arm to sit on his lap and is wiggling her around like a grinding lap-dance motion. She is yelling, "stop it, let go of me," and he is using his other hand to clasp her shoulder and grope her breasts. Now, keep in mind, there are like 4-5 UNC frat type guys AT THE TABLE watching him do this, and not saying shit, some even laughing (cuz apparently date rape is funny), because these were the very same fuckheads who were kissing Duncan's ass, asking him where he wanted to play NBA ball and buying him drinks when he got there. Tim Duncan's back is to me, so I tap him on the shoulder and calmly and quietly tell him to let go of her. He tells me to fuck off, without even turning around.

So I say sternly but calmly something along the lines of, "Well, you are going have to let go of her and get out because you are not welcome here anymore." (I always started things assertive but mellow and zen-like, so as to avoid inflaming drunken macho reactions. If you can control things by keeping calm, things go easier in these situations.) So he lets go, she darts up and runs to the ladies room, he stands up slowly and turns to face me. Now, I am not scared of too many people, but the fact remains: He is way taller, faster, stronger; in every way he will totally dominate me. Martial arts training aside, if I can't take him down fast, like by sweeping his leg and hopefully breaking a knee, I am fucked, because he could've picked me up by my ankles and swung me around like a club against the closest wall.

He looks down at me with total contempt and says, "Fuck off before I kick your ass. Don't you know who I am?" Now, inside I am crapping my pants, but fighting is all about controlling your fear, so on the outside I am (or am trying to be) John Wayne, Clint Eastwood and Bruce Lee all rolled into one. I look him dead in the eye (as best I am able given the height difference) and say, word for word (I will never forget, and I still don't know where I came up with this): "Look TIM, you ain't in the NBA yet. Now if you don't get the fuck out of here right now I am gonna call ESPN, Sports Illustrated, and Coach Odom as soon as I get done breaking your knee and ruining your fucking career." He is stunned by my audacity, like the lion regarding the mouse that roared.

Then he gets this weird look on his face, like he is mulling over what a bad idea it would be to get in a fight over this kind of thing at a Chapel Hill bar so publicly. Then he says "Fuck you. This place sucks. I am OUTTA HERE!" like it was his idea, like I had pissed in his margarita or something. I hollered at his back "Good! Get the fuck out, that's all I asked!" to the applause of the few patrons at the bar. I ended up going home with the pretty brunette he had been harassing, having played her Knight-in-shining flannel.

The weird thing is, he goes on to get drafted by the Spurs, spends his rookie offseason living with David Robinson and getting counseled on how to conduct yourself in the pros, craft the perfect media-friendly role-model image... to think this guy could have just as easily become the next Rasheed Wallace without the wise council of the Admiral.

The more rings Tim gets, and the longer he goes on as a NBA role model, the less likely people are to believe this, but I was there, and I had plenty of witnesses. Yes, it was a long time ago and people change, but that night that fucker was way out of line.

(Ed. Note: We're still a LITTLE skeptical ... but this guy didn't seem like he was bull-shitting to us.)

Athlete Run-Ins: When Shaq Wants Your Girl [Deadspin]