Play Play, J.J.

JJ Redick is in the Finals. His Orlando Magic trail the series 3-1 after losing their second overtime game to the Lakers. The score was 99-91 this time. Derek Fisher saved LA's asses in Game 4 and everyone is "this thing is a wrap." Redick has scored in three of the four games (though his field goal % is down by his ankles). Hey, that's pretty good. That's three more than anyone reading these words... Redick has to feel the pressure. Not just because of the obvious--that his team is a few plays away from winning instead of losing. He's also repping Duke University.

People already think Blue Devils are cotton-soft when they go pro. Duke players never reach that next level. Or in common terms, they suck in the pros. Do they?

The school that Duke gets stacked against the most, when discussing the NCAA's best pro factories, is their long-time rival, UNC. The Tarheels have sent enough players to the NBA to make several excellent teams. The list starts with MJ and runs through Billy Cunningham, James Worthy, Bob McAdoo, Mitch Kupchak, Sam Perkins... well this is going to get boring.
But maybe things are shifting, if not completely changed. Who does Carolina have in the league today? Not just existing. Playing at All Star level.

Rasheed Wallace. Vince Carter. Jerry Stackhouse. Antwan Jamison. Except... the first three are old in NBA years. All Star-quality players, for sure, but not anymore. And as good as Jamison is, he's peaked, and no one but very knowledgable fans ever knew his best play is near-elite.
Duke had three of those in the 2008-09 season. Shane Battier. Luol Deng. Elton Brand. As these words are written, summer 09, I'd take any of them over any of the four Carolina players. Any of the Duke players is capable of making the All Star team without too many dissenters.

UNC has multiple Hall of Famers--men who moved to the pros and still excelled. Duke has zero. Its alumni are totally overmatched by Carolina's.

But in recent years, Duke has better pros. That's a first. And it probably won't change when Lawson and Hansbrough lace it up in five months.

And before Dookies think about gloating, keep in mind that Redick can't get a shot off when Kobe's guarding him. It's apparent by body language that Redick is shook by that fact. He's a very recent NCAA player of the year, and what used to be a wide-open trey for him is now a big armbanded elbow in his face. That's how big the gap is between All American and All Star. Excuse me: All World.

Apropos of nothing, if Orlando wins the series--they won't, but if they pulled a hat trick--Hedo should be Finals MVP. Like Jamison, some fans don't realize how good Turkoglu is. His ballhandling, passing, and fifteen-foot fade are sick, and opponents respect all of that. Plus he's blocked Kobe's shit at least twice in big moments so far this series.

So he fools people (especially Lamar "Now N Later" Odom) with that foul-baiting fake jumper so often, he shouldn't just get the trophy for best player in that instance. He should get a Golden Globe, too.

Dream Journal: Garden

A man (angel) ascends into the sky with me. I travel next to him through clouds. Everything is very bright--as if my very vision and other senses have improved or heightened. He smiles at my awed expressions. We are moving very, very quickly. Faster than is possible by any human means. For a few moments I sense but don't see the man near me up there. A brief worry... The clouds part. We are floating over a gigantic garden. The colors are more vibrant than any I've ever seen...

 

 

Dream: Angles

I’m in the red car. Driving in a city that is familiar, on some side streets. The streets are all steep inclines and declines. I am wishing I had a stick instead of auto.

I stop at an intersection. A red light. The light is at the bottom of an incline. This street seems as angled as a ski jump. My brakes are squealing.

A woman is turning up the hill, from my right side. She stops her car right next to mine, puts it in park right there in the street, opens the door and gets out. Walks over and bends over at my open window.  Beautiful face and smile. She’s flirting with me. I am confused and amused. What's your angle? I say.

Her car is keeping another car from going up the hill. But the second driver doesn’t seem to be upset. Although I can’t see that person’s face, a shadow face... they seem to be patiently waiting for my ‘flirty girl’ to move on.

Flirty is still talking to me. My light is now green, but I don’t drive away, listening to her. She is saying a lot but I don't understand a word. I have been to the post office box, and my mail is lying in the back seat. She is now opening and reading my mail...

Dream: Wet Flaps

I am in the jungle, darkness, running. Branches and foliage slap me, hard.

A helicopter above, flying with no lights on. I hit a wall of brush and get stuck like a fly in a web. I panic and fight through.

Land on my hands and knees on a paved two-lane. The chopper is somewhere behind me, way to the left...

Dream: Mic

I’m at a huge outdoor concert at night. And I mean, gigantic. The main stage is about 100 yards away, with thousands of people everywhere.

I’m at a bar to the side of the crowd, getting a drink, chatting with a few people. Someone convinces me to get on stage; it is ‘open mic’ time. I defer, but only in a token way. Finish my drink and go backstage....

When I come on stage lots of people yell although they have no idea who I am. Lots of boos too. The noise of that many voices stuns me. I raise the mic and say, ‘awww, shut the hell up' and there is laughter.

Dream: Tour

I am with P., in a large city. Warm, sunny. We are wandering around, looking at the sights. Dark comes and we still are playing yokels. We talk a lot with our eyes and mouths, not with words.

We walk into a large parking garage whose levels descend far below street level. The car we came in is four or five levels down. I vaguely remember pulling in to park some hours (or days?) before. There is a man in the ticket booth as we enter at street level; he is white, in his 50s, balding, dark hair, glasses, thick bodied. [I describe because he looks familiar somehow.]

For some reason P. and I have different parking tickets. Strange since I previously thought we rode here together. She hands the ticket man her ticket and they exchange a few words, smiling at each other. Just as she is about to step away so I can pay, she leans back and pushes two more dollars into the booth.

I scrounge in my pockets to pay, realizing that I don’t have enough money to pay the ticket as I, too, joke with the ticket man. P. is already walking downstairs, and the ticket man says something like, ‘you’re already paid for; all I need from you is [???] cents,’ which I hand to him. I catch up to P. as she reaches the fourth level...

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