LOST ANGELES — Traffic on the 110 was at a standstill most of yesterday afternoon and into the late evening as a result of two horrific crashes inside Staples Center.
The first mishap occurred when the Clippers squandered a 24-point first half lead to the Spurs, who now hold an insurmountable 3-0 spread in their Western Conference no-sweat, semifinals series.
Unfazed and unscathed by their early boredom, the jingling, jangling Spurs eased to a 10-point, almost taunting (hack-a-Reggie Evans) victory after flattening my disoriented Paper Clips with a 24-0 gut-check salute in the third quarter.
It took the Clippers breath away, broke their spirit and shattered what little was left of their confidence.
Not that it would make a difference, but Chris Paul’s injured groin and ailing ankles must be factored into the Clips’ joyless ride.
He’s moving like C3PO instead of CP3.
This just in: Next of kin have been notified not to expect the Clippers to recover their senses any time soon. Their elimination tonight is an accident report about to be filed.
The second collision involved the Lakers, a replay of their damaging downfall in Game 2 when they surrendered a seven-point lead to the Thunder in the final two minutes. This time their crumble began with about eight minutes left.
With Kobe Bryant misfiring seven of eight times during that span, one more degree difficult and further out than the last, and Andrew Bynum (1-2 FG) and Pau Gasol (0-0) rarely sniffing leather, the Thunder overcame a 13-point deficit (8:02 mark) and won with a flick of Kevin Durant’s wrist.
Everyone in the building had become mesmerized by Kobe’s majesty (until his excesses got the worst of him) except Russell Westbrook and Durant, who outdistanced his 38 points with 68 of their own.
Looking for the “best” shot he could get, Durant serenely buried a 3-point poison pellet. Unaccountably, Metta World Peace backed up instead of crowding the NBA’s leading scorer as ticks on the shot clock (3.8) and seconds on the game time piece (13.7) grew scarce.
Frustrated?
“Very” Kobe readily acknowledged.
Traumatized?
Nobody’s question went to that extreme. Even if it had, you know the Black Mamba would’ve contemptuously shrugged off the suggestion that a loss of a game could ever leave him so powerless. The emotional state of his teammates, of course, is another story.
During the preseason, Kobe scoffed at the prevailing notion the team’s turmoil created by the voided trade of (the now guaranteed to be gone) Gasol and the exodus of Lamar Odom would distract him from attending to the business of basketball.
“That’s stupid talk,” he told me. “I just went through a divorce. Nothin’ is worse than that and I’m dealing with it.”
OK, so how do you prefer to view the Lakers’ ledger?
You could make a strong case they should be up 3-1; thus, their mood going into tomorrow’s (shamefully scheduled third game in four nights) possible conclusion might not be as depressing as commonly suspected.
Naturally, the Thunder are convinced they should’ve smashed the Lakers in four straight and already be home waiting on the Spurs to finish demolishing the Clippers.
I’ll be shocked if the Clippers aren’t totaled by late tonight and the Lakers are liquidated 24 hours later in Oklahoma City…though let’s give them some credit for proving good enough to give away two wins.
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Think there are enough storylines going into this afternoon’s pivotal Game 4 pressure cooker at the former Jose Conseco Fieldhouse?
Sure, champions-to-be-crowned and eventual pretenders to the throne have laid the sort of eggs Benedict the heavenly Heat did in the second half of Game 3 against the relatively nameless Pacers, whose ascension to eminence has principally been obscured by Miami’s morass.
However, none came with the Dramamine that has accompanied the Heat’s hyperventilating two-season long publicity campaign.
Miami began the series with the Pacers, who barged into the playoff picture at the last moment last season and proved not to be rodeo show props against the Bulls, with a distinct height disadvantage. When Chris Bosh went down in Game 1 with a strained abdomen, the disparity became obtrusive…as well as who’s the real MVP of the team, if not the league.
Roy Hibbert has exploited that tall tale to the tune of 44 points, 40 rebounds (14 offensive) and nine blocks through three games. The best part about the Georgetown product’s emergence since Frank Vogel replaced the unremittingly negative Jim O’Brien is John Thompson Sr. can’t claim credit for his development.
Of course, having to pay precious little attention to the likes of overwhelmed Joel Anthony and Dexter Pittman and undersized Udonis Haslem (still, an absurd seven minutes in Game 3), makes it substantially easier to help harass what’s left of the irreverent trinity.
Though LeBron James tries to take charges versus taking counterfeit charges, Dwyane Wade looks like Sidney Moncrief did on the downslope of his career. His legs are failing, his body is battered and his mind is messed up.
Hence, Wade taking out his frustration on a Pacer down the stretch of Game 2 and Friday night turning on coach Erik Spoelstra, whose job, by the way, is safe until Madge Johnson asserts otherwise.
Nine years competing harder than most, playing that all-out style, wears heavily on the knees. Column conscience Ricky St. Jean brought Wade’s lack of explosion (missed dunks) to this space’s attention months ago. He was even having trouble just getting off shots. His lateral quickness is definitely lacking and his first step isn’t nearly as lethal.
At the same time, as much as Wade is hurtin’ for certain, Hibbert and Paul George deserve corresponding responsibility for his shooting breakdown (2-13 in Game 3) and more turnovers (10) than assists (nine) overall. Wade, 18-58 FG, is being draped (by the 6-10 George) and hemmed (by the 7-2 Hibbert) the few times he is able to infiltrate the paint.
I ask you; is there a tougher, taller, more uncompromising defensive NBA backcourt than Paul and George Hill?
Now I’m telling you: Trades don’t get any fairer than last season’s deal that sent Hill from the Spurs to the Pacers for Kawhi Leonard, who was the No. 15 pick and now starting small forward.
It’s no mystery why Larry Bird (Vogel, Hibbert, George, Hill, David West, Darren Collison, Tyler Hansbrough) was voted executive of-the-year by his peers for radically renovating the Pacers’ roster. And why Spurs’ VP R.C. Buford (Leonard, Boris Diaw, Stephen Jackson-for-Richard Jefferson and Danny Green) finished second.
Hill averaged a mere 9.6 points on just over 44 percent shooting in the regular season, but, the moment he got promoted by default (Collision’s injury) the Pacers became almost unbeatable. His postseason polling numbers: 14.2 points in round one against Orlando and 15 in this series to lead Indy’s balanced diet of nonentities.
LeBron’s composite cache ain’t bad (81 points, 31 rebounds, 13 assists, 10 steals), but the Heat are learning what he discovered countless times as a Cavalier, he can’t do it alone. Those fantasy days of “get on my back, I’m drivin’” were passed down to Dwight Howard, who also found out the hard way good help is hard to find and that it has to stay healthy.
Spoelstra’s down to two options: Either turn Eddy Curry loose or start Miss Jane Pittman.
This just in: To even up the odds, David Stern has ordered the Pacers to rehire O’Brien.
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And then, there are your Celtics. Melting like movie-theatre butter, they finagled Philly right back into the thick of things…the same 76ers’ squad that bulk-rate mailed in Game 3.
Don’t ask me to explain what happened. I left my hotel room with Boston up 18. By the time I reached Staples Center, Doug Collins was holding another children-infested unprofessional press conference attended by the relatives and friends of the toy’s new owners.
Now, we have a good, old-fashioned mini-series, with the scene shifting to RomneyCare Land tomorrow night. To neutralize the home court/crowd advantage, Stern has ordered the Celtics to rehire Jim O’Brien.