Memphis Roar

Its all about recruiting, but from time to time, we like a little distraction. Enjoy the Cory’s column on the Bulls vs. Celtics first round series.

by Cory Hedgepeth

One of the great aspects of an NBA series isn’t always the winner-loser scenario. It’s not always the celebratory passage of duck boats harboring Paul Pierce as he waves to crowds down Tremont st. It’s not always the eruption of fans spilling out into the streets of Hollywood when Kobe hits Shaq for the greatest alley-oop in NBA history. And its not just Rip Hamilton retiring Reggie Miller with a hustle, over the shoulder decisive blocked shot.

Nope, not always (although Rip Hamilton should be canonized one day by the NBA for that spectacular play).

That’s the great thing about a series. Its drama, pure and simple. It puts a lot of egos in close confines with one another, gives them a national audience, puts history on the line, taunts potential sports legacy, manipulates city pride and shoves a microphone in the face of it all, constantly.

You don’t get that by playing one game.

Allow me to admit two things. First, by year’s end, I will not be able to remember who won the Celebrity Apprentice. Second, I watch Celebrity Apprentice, which was obvious if you read the first admission. You know what I will remember? I will remember Joan Rivers walking off the show after her daughter was fired by The Donald. I will remember that Clint Black and Dennis Rodman set the stage for what would be the highest viewed pay per view celebrity cagematch event of all-time (hey, one can dream).

And I will remember Rajon Rondo’s David hand grabbing Brad Miller’s Goliath head and pulling him to the floor. There are no excuses to be made, that’s how it went down, we all saw it. He wasn’t going for the ball. Of course, Miller inevitably misses two free throws and ends up the epicenter of a swarm of microphones all looking for one thing. And they got it: A battered, stitched up, defeated Brad Miller, still in his Bulls jersey, panned against the backdrop of his mercy-laden locker. The only thing missing from Miller’s proverbial post-game press conference was a case of swine flu. He had it all. Stitches. Defeat. A newly acquired archenemy. Controversy. A city in shambles after a tough loss. It just doesn’t get any better than that. If Mike Tyson would have interrupted the post-game interview dressed in drag and rambling on about all things impetuous, it wouldn’t have made this moment any better (unless Tyson had a case of the swine flu, of course).

This is why I love the NBA Playoffs. Its not always where amazing happens, but where drama happens. I love drama, but now that the dust has settled over the greatest series ever’s horizon, its time to lend a bit of perspective to the hype-machine that was the Rondo Foul.

Lets look over a few questions:

Should Rajon Rondo have been called for a flagrant 2?

The answer is yes. The answer is also absolutely. Both answers mean the same thing, but the latter has more journalistic emphasis street cred and the former is kind of, well, non-committal. Rondo didn’t go for the ball, he went for the head. If you deny this, your probably four Guiness too deep in some irish, cavernous bar talking to a guy you don’t know about how he sucks for going to Harvard and how, at the very least, you’re original (hope you find the girl, my friend, she’s hot). If you are still reading and a reasonable human being, allow me to clarify: It doesn’t make Rondo a cheap player (more on that in a bit), but it does make him subject to a flagrant 2. Ya’ don’t go after someone’s head. Pretty simple.

Would a flagrant 2 have determined the outcome of the game?

The answer is yes. But not absolutely. See how non-committal that comes off? The Bulls could have chosen to send Ben Gordon to the line on a flagrant 2, but would they have? Miller shoots at a pretty high percentage, so I do see some odds he toughs it out and takes the shots, Rocky 16 style. But if someone else shoots, one has to think they make at least one.

Is any of this a big deal?

The answer is yes. But again, not absolutely. My God, I am starting to sound like the recent Bachelor: I commit, but then I really don’t commit. To make this easier, lets take a walk down memory lane.

Anyone happen to remember Kevin McHale clotheslining Kurt Rambis? I know, dirty foul, right? But like a Filet Mignon, it’s aged now. And with age, it’s become a representation of the NBA’s playoff brutality served up with a glass of Chateau Mouton Rothschild. It’s an iconic play that defines a rivalry built on the pillars of some of the NBA’s greatest all time players. Sure, you see the Magic hookshot played with relentless frequency over and over (please note that no one discusses Kareem being open under the basket, with heroism comes immunity). With so many heroic moments to choose from, the McHale foul lives prestigiously amongst a montage of NBA Finals greatness.

The point is, Rondo’s foul was not as bad at McHale’s foul. In fact, it’s devoid an entire spectrum of reasons why it’s not of the same class, mainly the player size comparisons: Rondo’s a lot smaller than Miller. Also, the Bulls-Celtics rivalry aspect is fresh and the series was seemingly several weeks short of relevance (it was the first round, something even I keep forgetting). It’s not a big deal.

But the play is iconic. It’s next year’s NBA Playoff montage on TNT, where facial reconstruction happens. It’s good versus evil. It’s the what I want to watch: A series that spills the blood from players that have spent there entire lives dreaming of that one shot at the big trophy in the after life.

I for one am thankful for the Bulls and Celtics first round clash. And I take with it the Rondo foul. For me, the instant after it happened, while a swaying Brad Miller stood at the line like a redwood being sawed at the base, the foul had already aged for me.

Is Rose the second coming in Chicago?

I know, we’re still not allowed to go there. By there, you know exactly what I mean. But if the playoffs proved anything at all, its that Derek Rose is about as talented and gutsy of a point guard the league has ever seen come in. Talk about drama? How about a 21-year-old point guard playing out of his mind and matching the likes of Magic Johnson in the ever-so-important statistical columns for rookie point guards in the playoffs? That’s drama. And I can’t wait to watch him next year.

Which celebrity fight would you rather pay to see? Rondo versus Hinrich or Brande Roderick versus Melissa Rivers?

There’s that name again. Rondo. It seems my entire column is about that man. Well, it kind of is, but I wanted to discuss all the subplots that made the series an almost PPV event. Or at least the ones my stream of conscious mindset allowed for. Rondo played incredible during the series, so for him to have encrusted this series with so many great dramatic infusions, well, the man deserves an award.

But I wouldn’t pay to see him fight Hinrich over such an epic matchup as Melissa Rivers and Brande Roderick. First off, Melissa and Brande have to deal with Donald Trump whom obviously trumps David Stern in terms of rules that would effect the fighters. Trump would let ‘um fight, it would be a no chippy foul zone. Also, Melissa is in an ankle brace, which lends a bit of gimpory to the battle. Look, in summary, the only thing that could come remotely close to beating the recent Bulls and Celtics round 1 awesomeness would be a playmate battling a botoxified human shell that moves and cries. I mean, honestly, watch this near fight (vid below) and then compare to Hinrich and Rondo being separated by a ref. No question, the winner is estrogen. You can’t script this kind of hate. Before you watch though, always remember, when a playmate gets hit in the face, there are no winners.

I’m out. Go Tigers.