Rudy Gayby

Two episodes in two weeks, we’re rolling.

This week, Cuatro-Uno and I discuss March Madness, NFL lockout and ESPN’s documentary, Fab 5.

Enjoy. Share.

All things Miami Heat, this week. Hopefully, no promises, we will begin recording on a more consistent, disciplined schedule.

Moreover, I promise to provide more regularly updated written content. However, I can be read at the San Antonio Current’s website.

Do the right thing.

The Pack’ is Back and so is Below The Fold. Listen this week as Cuatro-Uno and I discuss the Super Bowl, including: our favorite commercials, the horrific half-time show, Rodgers versus Roethlisberger going forward, and the pitfalls of fast food.

Sharing is caring, so let your friends know about Below The Fold. They don’t even need to be friends.

In my most recent Spuriosity column, I argued that the often perceived oil and water relationship between sports and art enthusiasts is an exaggerated misconception. In fact, many of the motives that invite people to art openings and lectures mirror the reasons Spurs fans flock to the AT&T Center or local bars’ viewing parties.

However, one of sports’ greatest features is its ability to be experienced on your couch, within footsteps of clean facilities and a stocked fridge. While the in-home experience of sports stands in opposition to its communal element, rich with organic conversation and happenstance, it nonetheless affords sports viewers the opportunity to study up. Specifically, by watching games via television or computer, I, the viewer, widen my body of consumed games, and subsequently (hopefully) strengthen my understanding of the game. Consequently, the viewer is able to better articulate ideas and arguments regarding the game with friends and strangers, upon their next in-person experience. Simply put, the more basketball (or any other sport) one watches, the better viewer they become.

Today, in London, Google announced its newest toy, Art Project. In a nutshell, web browsers can view pieces within the collections of 17 international art museums. Google’s launch certainly accelerates the proliferation of online art viewing as museum’s attempt to find new methods of connecting art with the general public. The Internet will never replace the uniquely personal, often profound, experience of viewing art within an arm’s reach, but it’s definitely an enhancement that simultaneously breaks down the perceived barriers of art and grants browsers the opportunity to hold a private conversation with the work.

Admittedly, I haven’t done much virtual browsing, but it’s certainly a nice distraction from the Spurs loss to the Portland Trail Blazers, tonight. (Uh oh, sports and art, together again)

What are your thoughts on Google Art Project?

Sorry for Below The Fold’s conspicuous absence last week due to scheduling conflicts.

But, you’re in luck, because we’ve just recorded a new episode.

Get comfy, click play, and hear Cuatro-Uno and I discuss the Academy Awards, Jay Cutler, Blake Griffin aka Chuck Norris with a basketball, the dreadful Cleveland Cavaliers, and of course…But, I Digress.

Pay this podcast forward, my friends. To your friends.

Did the University of Phoenix hand out Body Language Certificates, yesterday?

I missed out on grabbing a copy of the piece of paper that deems me an expert relating to all things unspoken. Then again, my printer is out of ink. Double whammy.

No, but seriously, in the wake of Jay Cutler backlash surrounding his inability to finish the NFC Championship against the Green Bay Packers, why didn’t he appear more injured on the sidelines?

Mr. Cutler, why didn’t you emphatically gesticulate your passion to return to the game even though it was supposedly imprisoned by a knee injury?

Mr. Cutler, when the multitude of cameras routinely spotlighted you on my television screen, couldn’t you have stared straight into the camera with a look of two parts anger, three parts tenacity, and five parts fuck-my-damn-knee-I-owe-you-the-stranger-on-the-other-side-of-the-television-screen-my-knees-body-and-mind?

Mr. Cutler, it was just a knee injury, I mean, it wasn’t a concussion, right?

Mr. Cutler, why didn’t you just ignore the advice and ruling of your team’s medical and coaching staff, respectively?

Mr. Cutler, don’t you realize that I own a Jay Cutler jersey that I spent a ridiculous amount on because I wanted it to be “authentic” and not “replica” and if you fail to return to this game I may be hassled by my buddies? By the way, I’m still unsure how to differentiate between “authentic” and “replica”, can you please explain?

Mr. Cutler, if I was playing in that game, it would have taken a stretcher, an army, an extremely resistant set of restraints, and a Cost Co. sized dose of the strongest sedative around to tear me from the field. Is it not the same for you?

Mr. Cutler, why aren’t you Phillip Rivers?

Mr. Cutler, don’t you realize that I, an ex-high school junior varsity linebacker and Web MD fanatic, know your body and its limitations better than you do?

Mr. Cutler, don’t you realize that I “owned” you on fantasy team, and that’s supposed to mean some sliver of significance to you?

Mr. Cutler, why don’t you accept the fact that I, and every sports pundit and newly certified body language expert, see you as strictly a football player? That means I expect you to think of only football, forget your health and the opinion of trusted experts, it doesn’t matter. Me and my fraternity, disguised as  football fiends are actually voyeurs of all things sports, placing the responsibility of filling our own personal shortcomings and contradictions on your shoulders.

Mr. Cutler, how long will it take you to accept the plight I, a stranger but fan of sports, have assigned you – you can do what I can’t, but you must make the same decisions as me? C’mon, that’s less than 140 characters, you should be able to memorize that, right?

_________________

Do my questions seem ridiculous?

Maybe.

I would argue they’re no more ridiculous than the onslaught of vitriol being spiraled toward Jay Cutler.

I am not a Chicago Bears fan, although I was rooting for them, yesterday.

I am not a Jay Cutler fan.

I am not even that big of an NFL fan. (Maybe that admission stunts my opinion, but so be it.)

I am not a medical expert.

I never played organized football.

The question to me, borne out of yesterday’s events has nothing to do with Jay Cutler, specifically.

My question, simply put is: On a micro-level, at what point do we draw the line on injuries? On a macro-level, at what point do we draw the line on our expectations of athletes?

If Jay Cutler stays in the game, fighting through the knee injury, and wins the game, I am assuming he’s a hero, right? His display of fortitude and resolve to finish what he’s started becomes the backbone of Disney’s next lighthearted football, comeback film.

On the other hand, if Jay Cutler returns to the game and the Chicago Bears lose, is he still revered for staying in the game? Or does the conversation shift to talk of how Cutler should have pulled himself out of the game?

Not surprising, but I don’t know the answers to these question because it didn’t happen that way.

How can we, in the same breath, lobby and legislate for new rules and regulations aimed at protecting players and attempting to minimize long-term health risks, but also lambaste a player for saying he’s hurt and can’t continue?

Admittedly, this post is written in free form, lacking organization. It stems from the reactive nature of this incident that incites such a buffet of reactions from just about everyone, sports fans and foes.

At this very moment, I am thinking out loud. You are reading my thoughts in real-time.

To the defensive players, past and present, questioning the heart and toughness of Cutler – that’s too easy.

In my opinion, it’s easy to minimize an opponent’s injury when you’re not the one getting chased. You, the defensive player, are the chaser.

Even when fully healthy, 100 % (If that’s possible.), the quarterback position in the NFL is the single most vulnerable position in sports. The quarterback is never above injury, or completely safe from harm. Why don’t you go play quarterback behind the Bears’ offensive line? Ignore the fact that Jay Cutler lead the league in getting sacked with 52, this season.

To the players, past and present, attempting to tweet cunning musings and thunderous 140 characters jabs (while also ignoring grammatical rules and displaying a perceived ignorance of the backspace button) – shut up. Talk all you want, tweet all you want, but the louder you talk or the more often you tweet has no bearing on your performance as an athlete. Sports is about doing, not saying. There’s a reason Tom Brady has three rings, and Antonio Cromartie has zero rings.

Football is a game of reactions. It seems logical to conclude that a large amount of the original reactions to the Cutler incident have since changed, for better or worse. I, of course, would like to think for better.

We are all still processing this story, but it certainly possesses an inherent wealth in its ability to stimulate colorful debates.

What’s my take away?

Honestly, I am happy for Jay Cutler. While he may have wanted to return even though the doctors and coaches barred it from occurring, I recognize that it’s highly likely that Jay Cutler sees himself as more than just an extremely talented football player. Implicit in Cutler’s actions or perceived lack thereof, is an admission that he can see a life beyond football. Even though his erratic play, and ability to throw to the other team’s defensive players draws comparisons to Brett Favre, maybe Cutler knows he doesn’t want to be Favre – the guy who couldn’t accept his football mortality.

I think it’s refreshing Jay Cutler teared up in response to hearing of his peers’ armchair judgments. Why is it okay for players to cry when they win, but they can’t if they lose? Does crying make Jay Cutler appear less manly?

At its core, the Jay Cutler “Kneegate” further exemplifies the ongoing deconstructing of the modern athlete into a one-dimensional robot designed to entertain and amaze, regardless of the context. Specifically, the modern athlete is responsible for constantly displaying immortal tendencies – the consistent ability to fight through levels of pain, while also performing at the highest possible level.

What I’ve written is my opinion. There is no absolute truth to anything I’ve written. Then again, there is no absolute truth to anything surrounding this debacle other than Jay Cutler suffered a knee sprain.

Jay Cutler’s job is to entertain, which he did getting the Chicago Bears to the NFC Championship game. Jay Cutler isn’t the only member of the Chicago Bears.

This might come as a shock, but Jay Cutler is human.

To some, the seemingly obvious designation of Cutler as human might appear as a naive, broad painting of the brush aimed at finding a cheap out to this discussion.

I assure you it is not. When we live in a world where the decisions of a 27-year-old quarterback shape and lead Monday’s national discourse, and the expectations we assign to this stranger are often greater than those that we assign to our friends and family, he clearly isn’t human anymore. He or she is merely a means to an end.

So, why should Cutler or LeBron or any other professional athlete truly give a damn about what you think?

Your support is fickle, and superficial.

Just like that Certificate of Body Language you just received.

The 2010-2011 NBA season is nearing its midpoint. While the Miami Heat pre-season pony show captivated the masses, other story lines featuring other teams managed to grab some headlines. Or, at the very least, in between LeBron’s manic musings on Twitter, we found other basketball-related topics to chew on. And in some cases, spit out. Here are the top 10 story lines of the nearly halfway-completed 2010-2011 NBA season, according to Rudy Gayby.

10. Allen Iverson’s Turkey Trot – After failing to receive an offer from an NBA team this summer, Iverson packed his bags for Turkey. Signing with Turkish Besiktas, Iverson arrived at the airport in Istanbul to a mob of people. Two months later, according to a translation at HoopsWorld, Allen Iverson “appears close to end his career in basketball.” The 35-year-old, little-big-man recently injured his left ankle and “can’t stand the pain anymore.” The article goes on to say that Iverson is planning on having surgery in the United States, thus ending his stint in Turkey, and likely, his basketball career. If, in fact, we have seen the last of Iverson, the basketball player, we can all agree – it’s been quite the ride. Whether or not you liked Allen Iverson, the individual, it’s hard to knock his passion, energy, and tenacity as one of the most exciting players of his generation. To borrow the cliche, the guy truly played every game like it was his last. My favorite Iverson quote came during his rookie year, after crossing-over Michael Jordan. Asked how it felt to cross-over his hero, Iverson responded, “He’s not my hero. My heroes don’t wear suits.” As athletes become more entrenched in branding themselves as walking corporations with platitude offerings and rehearsed responses, Iverson always gave you his honest truth, filled with its own contradictions and hangs ups. And damn’t, it was real.

9. The body as a prison. – Since the beginning of the 2008-2009 NBA regular season,  Greg Oden and Yao Ming have both played 82 regular season games. Yao, the 2002 No. 1 Pick, and Oden, the 2007 No.1 Pick, have been chronically hobbled by injuries. On November 17, we learned Greg Oden would be out the entire year with season-ending microfracture surgery on his left knee. Thirty-one days later, we received word that Yao was done for the season due to a stress-fracture in his left ankle. Nearly four seasons after being drafted into the NBA, Oden has played in the equivalent of one full NBA season. I’m trying to remain optimistic for a return by both, Yao and Oden, next season. Keep in mind, Greg Oden will be only 23-years-old.

8. Shit or get off the pot. – Remember the 2000 Presidential Election between the eventual winner, George W. Bush, and Al Gore? Remember how it took 5 weeks to officially declare a winner? Remember how the election didn’t have a declared winner until the U.S. Supreme Court handed down their historic December 12, 5-4 decision in favor of Bush, stopping the Florida recount? Relatively, the Carmelo Anthony trade talks are inconsequential. However, constant discussion of trade rumors involving Carmelo and initially the New York Knicks, and now New Jersey Nets, continue to spew out hourly, in 140 characters or less. Does it make me less of a basketball fan if I don’t care where Carmelo Anthony ends up? Does my apathy highlight some greater truth about my possibly declining relationship with basketball? Honestly, when it comes to Carmelo, I’m just not that into him. At this point, Carmelo’s cock-blocking my basketball viewing.

7. Otis Smith’s favorite band must be America (that band that sang “A Horse with No Name”). – In America’s 1982 single, “You Can Do Magic”, Russ Ballard wrote, “You can do magic/You can have anything that you desire/Magic, and you know/You’re the one who can put out the fire.” On December 18, Otis Smith, General Manager of the Orlando Magic, took those lyrics to heart and gave his team a makeover of Bridalplasty proportions. Smith executed an eight-player trade that involved three teams – Magic, Phoenix Suns, and Washington Wizards. In short, Smith shipped Marcin Gortat, Vince Carter, and Mickael Pietrus, along with a 2011 first round pick and cash to the Phoenix Suns for ex-Magic Hedo Turkoglu and Jason Richardson. Additionally, Smith swapped albatross contracts, trading Rashard Lewis for the Washington Wizard’s enigma, Gilbert Arenas. Almost four weeks removed from the trade, and Smith’s all-in move appears to being paying dividends. Currently, the Magic have won 9 straight games, dating back to their 22-point victory over the San Antonio Spurs, on December 23. Granted, it’s all meaningless when the records and win-streaks are erased come post-season time as Orlando will need to find a solution for handling the Boston Celtic’s depth in the big and tall department.

6. The plight of the company man. - I guess both sides can’t win. For every Otis Smith, there is a Steve Nash. The arrival of Marcin Gortat in Phoenix appeared mutually beneficial for Gortat and the Suns. It gave Gortat the casting call for the role of starting center in the NBA he so desperately wanted, and it provided the Suns with a big body, beyond the oft-injured frame of Robin Lopez. Since Gortat’s December 19 debut in a Suns uniform, Phoenix has posted a dreadful 3-8 record, including most recently, a 132-98 bludgeoning by the Denver Nuggets. Overall, the Phoenix Suns currently hold a 15-21 record, 11th in the Western Conference. One year ago today, on January 12, the Phoenix Suns were fourth in the Western Conference, posting a solid 24-14 record. The biggest loser in the setting of the Suns is its company man and leader, Steve Nash. The two-time MVP and perennial table-setter lacks his former, most loyal diner, Amare Stoudemire. When you watch the Phoenix Suns on television, it’s immediately evident they hemorrhaged intimidation points this offseason when they let Stoudemire walk over to the Knicks. Phoenix’s three leading scorers, Vince Carter, Steve Nash, and Grant Hill are 33, 36, and 38. Personally, the hardest part about watching the Phoenix Suns, who have been on national television at least 9 times already this season, is witnessing the imprisonment of Nash. In today’s NBA, most players don’t want to play in a small-market city or a team likely to never win a title, like a Sacramento, Minnesota, Cleveland, Milwaukee, Indiana, Toronto, and the list goes on. Players realize that the ultimate litmus for whether their resumes are good or great is an NBA title. Thus, players have no qualms ditching cities for perceived greener pastures with promises of glory. I genuinely believe Steve Nash wants an NBA title just as bad as the next guy, but at the same time Nash places loyalty to an organization and its community at a premium. Maybe it stems from the generally agreed upon conclusion that international players care more about playing for their country’s than winning NBA titles. I am hopeful Steve Nash is traded soon in order to play for a legitimate contender. He has earned that right.

5. Woe is CLE. – If you’re a professional basketball player and you lose by 55-points, doesn’t that give me the right to question your credentials? The Cleveland Cavaliers might be one of the most pathetic teams I’ve seen in recent memory. You know when there’s a car accident and pieces of the vehicle are often unsalvageable, save a few meaningless parts. Well, if you took the car parts you could spare, and then forged them together, you’d have the Cleveland Cavaliers. A collection of spare parts joined together, lacking the primary pieces to generate any speed. Forget acceleration, this car can’t even start. The Cavalier’s league-worst record, 8-30, is even worse than it looks upon first glance. Since LeBron returned to Cleveland on December 1, the Cavaliers have won one game. One single game. In fact, this is that point where I could crack the joke that the Cavaliers haven’t won a basketball game since last year, 2010. The Cavaliers are currently suffering an 11-game losing streak, while four teams in the NBA still haven’t even reached 11 total losses for the season (San Antonio, Miami, Boston, Dallas). Adding salt to the wound is news that hustle-man, Anderson Varejao will miss the remainder of the season. As an aside, I bet Varejao is ecstatic he doesn’t have to get embarrassed on a nightly basis. What is going through the mind of Clevelanders, particularly fans of the Cavaliers? Knitted in their blanket of despair is the pattern of LeBron’s mug sticking his tongue out at his ex-employer. The current members of the Cavaliers aren’t going to be canonized in any historical books for their individual merits. However, that could change and they could be forever nestled in the chorus of NBA punch-lines, if the misery and absence of any displayed effort continues. Diane Keaton’s face might become the snap-shot of the Cavaliers’ season.

4. The delayed Jay-Z effect? – In Jay-Z’s ubiquitous ear worm of late-2009 and early-2010, “Empire State of Mind”, Alicia Keys sang, “These streets will make you feel brand new/These lights will inspire you.” In basketball terms, Madison Square Garden perfectly captures The Big Apple’s singular presence as iconic city and unmatched stage. The New York Knicks haven’t won a playoff series since spring 2000, and haven’t even sniffed the playoffs since 2004. For all intents and purposes, the New York Knicks were a joke. A franchise operating solely under its name, location, and venue. It’s the freaking New York Knicks. After unsuccessfully bidding for the services of LeBron James this offseason, the Donnie Walsh and the Knicks signed Amare Stoudemire and signed a serviceable, underrated point guard in Raymond Felton. One year after starting 15-22, this year’s Knicks flipped it, currently holding a 22-15 record. Trade talks continue to linger about the possibility of adding Carmelo, or even the idea of trading for Steve Nash and reuniting the trio of Nash, Stoudemire, and Coach D’Antoni. Speculation and prognostication aside, it’s exciting to see the Knicks playing inspired basketball under the MSG lights.

3. The B.K. Lounge is open, but for only 82 games y’all. – The hours of operation for the B.K. Lounge close at the end of the regular season. Blake Griffin and Kevin Love continue to galvanize not only basketball fans, but lovers of leaping, and spring cleaning. Quite possibly the most athletic redhead in the history of sports, Blake Griffin, continues to mystify physicists as he defies gravity more often than members of the Jersey Shore go tanning. On the other hand, lacking the grace of Griffin, Kevin Love never steps onto the court without a bottle of Windex. The pasty, California kid, leads the league in rebounding with more than 15 boards per game. The only man in the world who might bring more artistry around the glass is Dale Chihuly, but I can only look at blown glass for so long until it all looks the same. Love and Griffin sit 1-2 in both double-doubles and rebounding average categories, as they have earned 34 and 29 double-doubles, respectively. Since you won’t be seeing Griffin’s Clippers or Love’s T-Wolves in the playoffs, savor it. And remember, when the regular season concludes, you can always nosedive into nostalgia by surfing YouTube. Watching Blake Griffin fly really is the epitome of basketball pornography.

2. “Larger than Life” – Florida’s hottest, new, manufactured boy-band continues to put on a quite a show during its 13-game, road winning-streak. Maybe the Miami Heat studied the racehorse, Zenyatta, during the off-season. The six-year-old mare that won an astonishing 19 of 20 career races faced opponents with the same game-plan – winning from behind. After a mediocre 8-7 start, they mirrored Zenyatta’s maneuvering, lengthening their stride game-by-game, inching their way closer and closer to the front of the pack. Granted, the season isn’t even halfway complete, but the Miami Heat sit atop the Eastern Conference at 30-9, and owners of a 9-game winning-streak. In my opinion, the single biggest contributor to the Heat’s recent success is LeBron fully embracing his role as villain. The section of LeBron’s brain previously assigned for “taking mental notes” has been replaced with the desire to destroy the competition and tweeting “karma’s a bitch” to his old employer’s woes. LeBrand, Flash and “Top Bunk” Bosh, barring any injuries, will only continue to develop more chemistry as the season approaches its real test – the NBA Playoffs. I don’t know if you watched Total Request Live in it’s hey-day when Carson Daly hosted and the Backstreet Boys still meant something, but doesn’t this video remind you of the Miami Heat Welcome Party? All jokes aside, the Miami Heat are marching and I can’t help but stop and watch the parade.

1. Tupac would’ve been a Spurs fan. – I don’t know if Coach Gregg Popovich listens to rap, but the Spurs’ plan of attack this season can be encapsulated into the 1996 Tupac Shakur single, “How Do u Want It.” The former half-court offense loyalists have adopted and efficiently executed a fast lane offense. Any given night, a different man in Silver-and-Black takes the keys and says, “Don’t worry, I’ll get us there, tonight.” Manu Ginobili sank his first buzzer-beater and didn’t waste anytime, earning his second the very next night – in the form of taking a Carmelo Anthony charge as the final horn sounded. Tony Parker is distributing the ball more than ever before, remember Parker’s only 28-years-old. Chances are, Parker grew tired of being buried on the Staff Recommendation’s for best point guard’s in the league. The dude has three NBA Championships, save Derek Fisher, that’s more than the other starting point guards in the NBA, combined. And, of course, Vintage aka Tim Duncan. He doesn’t pump out as many barrels as previous years, but the grapes are still unmatched and Timmy’s tannins continue to leave a bitter taste in the mouth of opponents. Then, there’s the steady three-point hand of Matt Bonner, who gives me chest pains when he puts the ball on the floor. Dicky Jeff started off hot, but has tapered off as of late. When George Hill isn’t busy staring down, pointing at, or stripping Kobe Bryant, he’s blossoming into one of the league’s most promising, diamonds-in-the-rough. While not quite a diamond, Gary Neal, the 26-year-old Jack Kerouac of European basketball has found a house he can call a home in San Antonio, under the tutelage of Coach Pop. Neal proves fearless when it comes to shooting the basketball, he attacks with a stream of consciousness approach – spontaneous, unedited and vulnerably raw. I don’t know what a franchise-best, 32-6 start means long-term, but the Spurs can mimic the closing of the chorus to “How Do U Want It” in saying, “I’m for real.” After being subjected to the Summer 2010 Ego Masturbation Marathon, wouldn’t it be poetic justice if the San Antonio Spurs, the Association’s perennial men of modesty and character, hoisted the 2010-2011 NBA Championship?

After a seven-week layoff, Cuatro-Uno and I are proud to welcome back, Below The Fold.

Click play, and help us shake off the rust as we discuss, off-the-cuff, the BCS National Championship, NBA, and NFL Playoff Predictions. Toward the end is when it gets good, Cuatro-Uno has the gull to even hint at the ridiculous suggestion that Peyton Manning is overrated.

Barring any changes, Below The Fold will return next Tuesday for another episode.

Enjoy. And share. With friends and family. Go. Do it. Now.

I’m recommending the NBA institute a new individual, regular season award.

Let’s call it the Most Valuable Player (MVP) award for players on bad teams. The semantics of the word “bad” are loosely policed, thus the award is available to any member of a non-playoff qualifying roster.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you – the Most Valuable Prisoner award.

Granted, I haven’t spent much time researching alternative candidates seeing as how the name of the award was inspired by a specific player. However, I feel confident my nomination stands at the forefront of the prisoner discussion.

Kevin Wesley Love. The 22-year-old, third year power forward for the NBA team whose presence in the standings consistently mirrors the Mercury reading on its winter thermometers – somewhere at or near the bottom. The Minnesota Timberwolves.

Nearly halfway through the 2010-2011 campaign and the T-Wolves (so dreadful we’ve become too lazy to even recite their entire team name) are a dreadful 9-27. Up to this point, the T-Wolves have played a league-leading 20 road games, winning only two. On the other hand, their home record is more respectable, a sub- .500, 7-9.

Kevin Love is one of three members of the T-Wolves roster that has registered minutes in every single game, this season. Rookie Wes Johnson and the schizophrenic scorer in Corey Brewer being the others.

It’s as if Kevin Love is experiencing the menacing backhand of karma, enacting revenge on some terrible deed or series of deeds Love committed in a past life.

Let me hit you with some statistics. Don’t worry, I’’ll be gentle.

Kevin Love averages nearly 21 points, coupled with a handily league-leading 15.6 rebounds per game. Listed at a generous 6’10”, Love shoots 45-percent from the floor, including nearly 43-percent from three-point distance. Not to mention, Love shoots an enviable 87.6-percent from the charity stripe, which makes him the third best free throw shooter at least 6’10 (behind Dirk Nowitzki and Danilo Gallinari, respectively).

According to ESPN’s logarithmic guru, John Hollinger, Kevin Love has the eleventh best PER rating in the entire league. For those of you unaware of what PER is, not that I feel comfortable in my comprehension, it’s a measure of player’s efficiency, based upon a player’s per minute productivity that factors in a number of statistical categories. Among power forwards, Love is fourth in the league, but he is actually the third highest PER-rated power forward because the current league leader, Samardo Samuels, has played only four games.

Love has grabbed at least 20 rebounds in a game, already six times this season. Including a behemoth 31-point, 31-rebound display in a November 12 win over the New York Knicks.

Twice this season, Big Love has gone a perfect 5-5 from behind the three-point arc in a game.

Love has scored at least 30 points in a game, four times this season. The T-Wolves have failed to win three of the four, the exception being the aforementioned 31-31 output against the Knicks.

The T-Wolves are a pathetic 3-7 when Love scores at least 25 points.

In theory, if Kevin Love had stayed at UCLA for four seasons, he would be graduating this Spring.

Scary. The kid is only 22-years-old.

Make no mistake though, Love’s dazzling performances speak to a man whose game is constantly maturing and whose stock continues to rise.

It’s just hard to do much moving when you’re trapped in the basketball jail cell that is the forever-stagnant, Minnesota T-Wolves.

SOS Kevin Love, the NBA’s Most Valuable Prisoner.

“Yet, according to conventional medical wisdom, he has no business even being on the court. And so, for the last seven years, the Rockets have embarked upon a grand experiment in a quest to create and maintain the first supersized superstar. It has involved equal parts basketball training, physical conditioning and cultural education and has been remarkably successful, all things considered. To examine the process is to get a glimpse at what may be the outer limits of big-man play, for Yao is as close to a finished product as there is in the NBA, a player who, according to one NBA scout, “has maxed out his potential as much as any player in the league.” – “The Superbigs” The Art of a Beautiful Game (2009) by Chris Ballard

Last night, during the San Antonio Spurs thrilling victory over the Denver Nuggets, I posed the following question to my girlfriend: If the NBA followed universities and colleges, and offered the basketball equivalent of honorary degrees in the form of honorary championship rings, which player, past or present, would you select first?

Without much hesitation, “Yao Ming,” she said.

Of course, my girlfriend is a tad biased. She’s from Houston. The Rockets are an after-thought in Texas, relative to the Spurs and Mavericks.

“No player has brought more viewers to the NBA than Yao Ming,” my girlfriend continued. “Besides, he seems like such a nice guy.”

Admittedly, my girlfriend threw me a curveball. Yao Ming was not the answer I expected.

However, the answer was topical – Yesterday, the Houston Rockets announced that Yao Ming will likely miss the remainder of the 2010-2011 season with a stress fracture in his left ankle. The ankle connected to the foot that caused him to miss the entire 2009-2010 season.

Today, above and below the fold of sport pages stretching from San Antonio to Shanghai, news of Yao’s injury invokes sadness, anger, frustration, surprise, no surprise, etc.

Questions linger: When will Yao recover? Will Yao recover? Will Yao ever play in the NBA again? Was the Rockets November 10 loss to the Wizards, the last time we will see Yao in a Rockets uniform? If, in fact, Yao has played his last NBA game, how will he be remembered?

I’ll leave the long-term health prognosis to the doctors, the short and long-term effects on the Rockets roster to the x’s and o’s hoopheads, and I’ll worry about writing Yao’s legacy when says he’s done playing basketball.

Truthfully, Yao might be the grand experiment in the NBA, but every NBA player is a walking experiment. The unfathomable abundance of talent possessed by NBA players is constantly probed, challenged, and honed by coaches, peers and prognosticators.

Certain in every professional athlete’s career is that one day it will end. Their returns will begin to diminish. There is no uniform shelf-life or pre-determined expiration date for one’s career. Variables that can affect their experiment are both, seen and unseen.

The comparison is often made that great sports is like theater – the viewer or fan, at any point in time, is susceptible to becoming completely immersed in every move of the actor, in this case the athlete. The drama confined to a field of play becomes a stage exhibiting real-time drama, spontaneity, creativity, passion, and constant plot shifting.

NBA players shortcomings, aging, deterioration is laid bare on the court in front of adoring fans, dressed in their favorite player’s jersey. The fan is a spectator to human drama in one of its most organic forms, from the elation of victory to the melancholy of defeat.

Today’s athletes are pleasure robots. One dimensional machines with storage compartments, carrying the hopes and expectations of fans, peers, coaches, prognosticators, and Twitter. They are supposed to help me win fantasy football, this weekend. They are supposed to act as though they are each the athletic embodiment of Jesus. I don’t want my athletes to walk on water. I want them to run on water. The athlete isn’t supposed to have the freewill to choose his employer. If he or she doesn’t like his co-workers, so what? He works for me, the fan, right? Off the court, you better not do anything that I wouldn’t do, even though the majority of my investment in them is rooted in a voyeuristic obsession with what they can do, that I can’t. I own their jersey, I “own” them on fantasy, I must know them as people, right? Had a bad day? A poor showing? Suck it up, I’m coming with the probing, futile questions before you can even put your underpants on. Privacy? Haha, what’s that?

I’m consistent in one thing – digressing, but when it comes to the case study of Yao Ming, I have something to say.

Today, Jerome Solomon, reporter at the Houston Chronicle, wrote: “If we have seen the last of Yao as a Rocket, as a basketball player, we’re left mostly with thoughts of what could have been. A sad day indeed.”

Solomon got it right when he said “a sad day indeed.”

However, it begs the question, at what point would Yao cross the imaginary line, delivering on “what could have been?”

Would the line keep moving?

In China, Yao made the NBA relevant to 1.3 billion people. Up to this point, career averages of 19 points, 9 rebounds, 2 blocks on 52-percent shooting from the floor, and a staggering 83-percent from the free throw line. Seven-time NBA All-Star.

I am not silly enough to ignore the fact that Yao was entering his prime. In theory, the numbers were only supposed to improve.

If you, yourself, were a seven-year member of the most highly-selective group for your respective craft, what would you say if the questions of “what could have been” lingered?

I can’t answer. On my best day, my talents are relatively pedestrian.

At the very least, I’d demand an honorary ring.