There are some things I will never quite understand about Avatar. For all of the hype, all of the months/years spent building, all of the insanely futuristic special effects and the mountains upon mountains of money put into the project, the movie was supposed to suck. It told the same story I’ve seen a gazillion times, and did it with weird blue creatures that weren’t nearly as cool as “Two Socks” from Dances With Wolves…not to mention that the scenes where the avatar and his alien lady hooked up got my stomach gurgling. Awkward for more than one reason.
Somehow though, I ended up watching the movie. Then watching it again. And again. All the while, I tried to convince myself that “Yep, what everyone told me is right: this movie sucks.” The funny thing? That never happened. It actually turned out to be reasonably entertaining. Even though Pocahontas from the dark ages of decent Disney movies told literally the same exact story, I actually made it through all 759 minutes of Avatar fairly easily.
Why Avatar? Because it actually reminds me a lot of Miami. Seriously. Bear with me.
Everyone told me this Heat team would be a train wreck, or at least wouldn’t win a title (which I guess constitutes a train wreck in this instance). All of the money, all of the Riley genius, all of the star power wouldn’t be enough. The Lakers were back and better than ever, Boston was exactly what the Heat were not (team-oriented, defense-first, hundreds of pounds of beef up front and most of all, they had history together). I heard it all summer from a lot of people outside of Jeff Van Gundy. Those cries grew even louder once the Heat got ruffed up a few times by Boston and then fell to 9-8. There was Bumpgate, and even as the Heat mowed down helpless, lottery-bound teams who lacked the talent to be nothing more than underclassmen shrinking in the way of LeBron, D-Wade and Bosh‘s collective B.M.O.C., no one really believed in them.
But now? These guys are two wins away from an NBA championship, maybe even two straight wins away from the first five game sweep of the Finals since 2004 when Detroit laid waste to the Lakers. This should be a bigger story than it is. Amazingly, people everywhere are suddenly convinced this Heat team is overly talented, needed no luck whatsoever and had this title wrapped up since February. That revisionist history generally happens when you’re this close to glory. But it’s not right at all.
This is a team that gave up on Dorell Wright, who proceeded to go to Golden State, average 16 and five and make more threes than anyone IN THE ENTIRE LEAGUE this year. You can’t tell me this guy wasn’t perfect for this team. Their best big man off the bench is either a guy who really isn’t that big at all (Udonis Haslem) or a guy who somehow made it this far without falling apart (Juwan Howard) and has facial hair older than some of his teammates. They shuffled players in and out of the lineup all season; their two centers for basically the entire year don’t even play anymore. Their opening night starter at point is probably on South Beach partying with Pitbull right now.
A few years ago, they were one pick away from nabbing Derrick Rose instead of Michael Beasley. Now, say what you want about that night, but realistically the Big Three never happens if Rose is wearing a Heat jersey. No chance. Instead, they end up with a guy who now is being run out of Minnesota of all places, all the cards fell in line and BOOM, they have a potential dynasty on their hands.
They benefitted from the unbelievably weird timing of the Perkins trade, and then made it to the Finals to play a Dallas team that has exactly one All-Star. Think about that. The West has been dominated for the past decade by Duncan, Kobe & Shaq. In their first year together, the Heat get Dirk and a bunch of guys who were better players three years ago.
Then, there are the characters of this bunch:
Erik Spoelstra: If Pat Riley is considered the Godfather (in a recent ESPN article, Spoelstra said: “If you know Pat, you go into his office, he calls you in there and it’s like talking to the Godfather. The lights are always dim. He can see you, but you can’t really see him…”), then Spo undoubtedly used to be Fredo. Young. Inexperienced. The organizational b#$%^. He did grunt work, the behind-the-scenes stuff, but when it came time for decisions, all the big wigs would step in front like “Hold it there, kiddo.” It took him well over a decade to finally get some real recognition. How did he never leave? Who does that? That’s like waiting tables at Buffalo Wild Wings for years, struggling with clientele who don’t tip well, waiting for the chance to get behind the bar and it never coming. He was the nerd, the video guy, the tiny college player who rose not through the coaching ranks but through electronics.
Now, he’s a 40-year-old telling LeBron James what to do. And somehow LeBron is listening. So are Chris Bosh & D-Wade. Huh?
Mike Bibby & Joel Anthony: I mentioned this on Twitter yesterday. Have you ever heard of an NBA championship team that started a PG/C combo averaging a combined 6.8 points a night in the playoffs? Ever? How is that even possible? Aren’t these supposed to be the two most important positions on the floor? Every little kid grows up hearing that: if you can dribble, they try to make you a floor general. If you’re tall, goofy and hitting acne before anyone else, they make you a pivot.
Anthony just made his first basket of the entire Finals the other night. One basket! In their last nine playoff games, he has 11 points. That’s uncharted territory.
Yes, he’s a nice defensive player. He’s athletic, quick and doesn’t mind if his entire role on offense is to listen to LeBron yell: “Go here”…”Come give me a screen”…”Get out”…”Joel, WTF?” This is a guy who once airballed a dunk. This is a guy who never played basketball growing up, his only influence being one of those basketball drill books that inspire just about nothing outside of complete boredom. And he can’t catch. Like literally. People make fun of some guys for having stone hands. Anthony really does.
But he works hard enough that team officials have barred him at times from using the gym, he knows how to use his quickness inside and he doesn’t give a s$%^ about a pat on the butt, something they need on a team full of guys who constantly need that. And he also has the best nickname in the league. The Warden.
Then, there’s Bibby, a guy I thought had basically retired about two years ago. One of my boys is a huge Bibby fan (don’t ask me why, that’s like still pouring through your Goosebumps collection) and I used to argue with him all the time. I’d joke. He’d never take me seriously. I think I’ve told him at least a dozen times that I thought Bibby was the worst starting point guard in the league. This was back when he was on Atlanta. He was terrible even back then.
Now, he waddles and moves so slowly that I actually find myself thinking, “Wait, they should be starting Chalmers” as if that isn’t the most ridiculous thing I could possibly say. That’s how less-than-average Bibby is. Now, it’s to the point where if Bibby hits even one three a game, he’s done his job. Who wouldn’t want that job? He doesn’t have to play defense knowing he has the best duo of off-ball wing defenders the NBA has ever seen beside him. He doesn’t have to run the offense. He drifts around the arc, touches the ball once every few possessions and gets to fire up threes. Sign me up!
Mike Miller: He was supposed to be their James Posey, except he forgot how to shoot about two and a half seasons ago, his thumbs can’t grip or move anymore and he looks damn near 65 after those years languishing in Washington. Not to mention that when he finally does get healthy, he ends up with some serious issues with his newborn child. The guy can’t catch a break.
Besides all that, he only needs to give them a good seven minutes a night and another average four minutes, one or two baskets and his penchant for engulfing rebounds. That’s one thing I’ll never understand: how is this dude the team’s third best rebounder? And the two best also both play on the wing? Huh?
Chris Bosh: The most maligned great player in the league. Remember his last visit to the playoffs in Toronto? He got bulldozed, chicken-winged in half by Dwight Howard. Now he’s hitting game-winners on the road in the NBA Finals.
Finally, LeBron James: How many people out there truly believed at the start of the year that LeBron would cede control to Wade? Seven? 15? It didn’t matter that it was the right thing to do. ‘Bron ran that entire Cleveland organization and for most of this year, played exactly the way he always has, which isn’t exactly a bad thing.
But suddenly, take out the very end of Game 2, and in these Finals the Heat are playing exactly the way they should: Wade as the Jordanesque killer on the wing, taking all the big shots, getting out on the break, the run-stopper, and James as the Swiss Army Knife, defending five positions, keeping the role guys involved every once in a while and running the offense from the top of the key. The marriage of Bosh-Wade-‘Bron was supposed to work in theory, but those things rarely ever do in the NBA. Somehow though, it all came together at exactly the right time.
How did this all happen? Wade was really the only sure thing coming into this season, and yet everything else fell into place. The Heat haven’t won the title yet, but I think it’s pretty obvious who the more talented team is. Besides the final six minutes of Game 2, they’ve controlled this series. If they don’t win it, I’ll consider it one of the more colossal Finals failures of the past 20 years.
This is good news for Heat fans and bad news for the rest of the NBA because they’re only going to get better from here.
What do you think?
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