Stop with the Speculation Screeds!

There is much in the way of myth generating in regard to the figures that rule over the DC sports landscape. It seems that certain players, coaches, front office types, and owners around here make statements without even saying them, plan to perform actions that are never performed, and have certain personality traits that have never been completely accounted for. While they attempt to keep their personalities/decisions/feelings about whatever completely under wraps, the dilligent sports reporters and analyzers attempt to unearth these completely secret aspects of their lives in order to compose screeds on how terrible these people actually are at their jobs. Now, we don't want to discount the intrepid work of these writing professionals. Their thankless job provides the conversations we all enjoy having more than the conversations about Susan Boyle. Yet it becomes frustrating when the unknown decisions, feelings, and actions of these figures receive what amounts to a complete and utter bashing despite those feelings not being correctly interpreted and subsequently rebuked once truth or results prove these bashers wrong.

For example: the Wizards recently had what amounted to an aberration of a season (meaning the whole roster was hurt, not just a key cog or two). They realized that with the opportunity to re-assess their needs, they could address the lingering concerns while simultaneously staying the course of their ultimate structure. So they hired Flip Saunders, the most decorated coach in the market, which, unless Phil Jackson was available, isn't exactly brimming with proven ability. Saunders ran teams similar to the Wiz to great success. Sure, he didn't win a title, but only four active coaches can claim that anyway. Maybe his lack of title would be more motivation to make this squad run on all of its cylinders.

Yet, there were echoes of doubt from the analyzers and writers of sport, all of whom were doubtful Flip Saunders would ever wrangle in that insane clubhouse killer Gilbert Arenas, whose zany ways would drive any coach batty. How did they determine that Gilbert would be a problem for any coach he didn't choose via flipping coins? Not through any statements from Gilbert, or any actual proof of his past issues with coaching, but through speculation. Naturally the union of Arenas and Saunders is already off to a fantastic start, with Flip commending Gilbert, and Gilbert lauding the new constructor of his plays. What happened to the impossible-to-coach Gilbert driving every coach insane? We don't think many coaches would hate having a guy who can drop thirty, dish out ten-plus dimes, generate free throws instantly, and hit massive game-winning shots, yet sports analyzer Michael Wilbon figured Saunders would not be able to generate results from this mercurial player, and as a result, the hiring was terrible, awful, laughable, dump-onnable, etc.

Yet yesterday's formal introduction of Flip went with tons of mutual appreciation from Saunders and his new point guard, who will obviously transform into a quicker, more dynamic Chauncy Billups under this new tutilage. Speculation was wrong there, which made the immediate hating of the hire, transcribed through panic-ensuing screeds problematic.

We have the same problem with the sports reporters' treatment of the Redskins' upcoming draft. Now, we aren't going to go all Larry Michael and ask for the heads of these NFL Sources that keep reporting the impending doom and gloom eminating from the unwanton desires of Dan Snyder. We just find it troubling that far-reaching results of player transactions have already been documented despite any sort of genuine happenstance of a Mark Sanchez selection. The skins haven't made any trades, haven't formally swapped any contracts, nor have they stitched together any uniforms with these new players' names on them. So why, again, does Mr. Wilbon tap out another screed about the Redskins' front office inabilities, when none of these crippling transactions have actually been made? Sure Wilbon crows about how idiotic the skins are for not trading down, like they should, yet he fails to mention that the skins did in fact trade down last year. They have traded down to acquire picks a number of times. Just because the skins wine and dine a potential prospect (the same way they wined and dined another potential prospect) doesn't mean that their decision has been curly-R stamped in burgundy and gold. Plenty of speculated skins selections have not happened in the past, why must we assume the ravenous desires of the owner will always be sated, even if no official statements of these desires are ever actually made? If the supposed loud overtures of desire for a rookie quarterback are never actually resulting in his selection, why should you, Denver, Colo ask Jason La Canfora (of all people) for a new team to root for? And what happened to the last quarterback Dan Snyder supposedly lusted after?

We just ask that you all try to save your imminent frustrations for actual football/basketball play. Or consider this extremeskins thread created by DCO homeboi da#1skinsfan. That is, if you are in the mood for more speculation.

Wiz Trade Deadline Grade: A

There is a contingent of people in the local sports press who may have written off the temporarily moribund Wiz. They have been called every "inept" synonym the thesaurus holds during their current cold streak. It seemed like every facet of their structure, from the decision makers to the coaches to the scouts to the few un-injured players left on the squad, should all be let go, replaced with expiring contracts, first round draft choices, and Ja Vale McGee's fully developed future self. With this season a lost cause, why not take apart the entire thing, scrub the salvagable parts, and replace everything with young, cheap, and Hollinger-approved.

The general consensus among those who attempt to report on the Wiz was, whatever deal was on the table, take it, you don't want to lose out on that potential number one pick. But the Wizards, and us here at the DCO, felt differently. The Wizards head-of-everything Manager Ernie Grunfeld felt that this team was perfect as constructed, and none of those trades that all of the NBA would have loved to execute were viable. And for this faith-in-the-Wiz philosophy, Ernie Grunfeld and his pat-staying Wiz have earned a coveted "A" grade from our own team of brilliant draft analysts.

While our draft analysts tend to often be correct in their respective analyses, there really aren't experts on the whole, knowing of Abe Pollin's exact thoughts thing. But we do know that if this potential trade would have been made, a trade both the yammerers of the media and, apparently, executives of NBA teams discussed ad nauseum, it would have destroyed the entire public's desire to ever take in an NBA basketball game.

Trading Antawn Jamison to the Cleveland "Crabaliers"(copyright Carter), would have made the entire National Basketball Association Incorporated become fraudulant. It would have taken something as perfectly American as loyalty seem forbidden. If Ernie Grunfeld would have listened to this contingent of unimaginable opinions, he would have squeezed any viable worthiness out of the league for good.

Yet Grunfeld, harboring DCO HOF-worthy steadfastness, resisted the marketing machinery. He kept his currently slumping Wiz team intact, knowing that full recoveries would lead to that winning tradition, built by Grunfeld et. al. He didn't give those a**holes Antawn. Not even if the referees fix the outcome completely will the Wizards hand-deliver the Cavaliers anything. NOPE!

As someone who "WITNESSED" the last time the Cavaliers played and lost to the Wiz, I know that there is only one team in the NBA that continues to remain either morally, or outcome-ly victorious in this match-up; and it's the Wiz. Again, the Wizards stood victorious. The Cavs couldn't even get a referee to rule favorably for them and execute that trade. One wonders whether David Stern himself blew a whistle during the phone call between the teams, and had Boobie Gibson execute the trade from the free throw line. We are positive that LeBron was crying while refreshing that NBA trade rumors page on worldwide dot com. Again, the Wizards emerge victorious over the least-appealing team in the NBA.

Naturally, the Wizards have been inspired by this tism-riffic victory. We know that current Wizards boss Ed Tapscott begins every game with an inspirational quotation. This not-trade likely didn't have to lead Tap to resort to his must win quote, namely the "us must trust us" verse from KRS-One's "Ova Ya Head." Nope, the Wiz responded to their non-makeover by steamrolling their last two opponents, emerging from the basements of the league, and looking as spoiler-riffic as ever. Maybe it was Kane's verse first verse from "Anotha Victory" that emblazoned the whiteboard before their last game and victory ("Come, get some, you little bums"), both their second straight overall win and their second straight at the well-groomed Izod Center (not copyright Berman). Cuz the Wiz made quick work of the Jarvis-less and Vince-Carter-ability-less nature of the Nets. Before that, they were firing up Verizon Center with their dismissing of the worse-off T-Wolves. Want to see development in the youth? Watch the current version of Javaris Crittenden popping eyes everytime he ignights a fast break. Check to see if it's McGhee, Andray Blatche, or career-highing kid Domenic McGuire catching his alley-oop toss. This team's reserves are legit.

And all of this luxury tax rigamorow? Not even an issue once next year kicks off, you know, when Gilbert, Brendan, etc etc become healthy and the Wiz return to excitement? The present, and the future, have become brighter. And you don't have to boycott a sporting league in the process.

Wiz on Fast Track to Playoffs

With yesterdays first consecutive win of the season for the formerly-struggling Wiz, talks of playoffs are heating up. How else could you analyze their brilliant sealing off of the vaunted Houston Rockets, who had found a way to fell the Wiz in seven straight ballgames before last night's obvious-that-the-bad-days-are-done W? After the hilarious comedic stylings that followed the Wiz's previous win over the so-much-worse-off (right down to the team name) Oklahoma City Thunder, where ESPN took time away from praising Lebron's latest commercial to pair highlights of poor basketball play with Benny Hill music, cracks from name-mispronouncing highly-paid yappers, and history-bearing stats, it seemed that a win against a team that even bears a slight resemblance to vauntedness would be impossible. This might especially be true considering these same Rockets entered Verizon Center and encountered the Wiz during a short cold snap, where the Wiz managed to miss something like their last eighty shots (and not all of them by DeShawn Stevenson!) before ultimately coming up short in the fourth quarter.

But odds-defying is something this inspired Wizards ballclub seems to encounter naturally. Just check the way the Wiz came close to defying the fixed odds of their Christmas day performance of the Cavs in their last loss, which seems so long ago. This whodathunkit nature translated to this brilliant victory last night in, of all forms, DeShawn Stevenson, who ignored all of the negativity surrounding his postively terrible season by hitting the absolutely huge fourth quarter shot, where he faded right on the baseline and gave the Wiz that insurmountable four-point lead. Stevenson's face finally lost that feeling, after he lost his starting spot, shooting confidence, ablility to effectively do anything, etc. We here at the DC Optimist see that bucket as evidence that this team has transitioned from historically terrible all the way to playoff contender. Could tonight's matchup with the also-vaunted New Orleans Hornets, where DeShawn hit another insane bucket at the end of the game last year be more evidence that the early-season hiccups of the losing variety are in the past?

Credit for the surge in winningness ought to also be doled out to new head coach Ed Tapscot, who has taken to rewarding the young, hungry and effective players with playing time. A Manny-like penchant for relaying inspirational quotes has both us and his newly contributing players inspired. Domenic McGuire does so many little things (and big things, especially defensively), that his inability to hit a jumpshot is inconsequential. Tap has also found ways to incorporate pups Andray Blatche, Nick Young, and occaisionally, Javaris Crittenden. Impressive work all around, as giving the Wiz youth the time to develop their game with playoff positioning a priority. Soon, once the Wizards finally receive a complement of players of the non-injured variety, they will be ready to overcome even the most seemingly insurmountable odds. Something they have shown an adept ability to do.

Wizards Lead Most of Christmas Night

An impressive Christmas night performance by our lightly regarded Wiz, who often spent the night in the lead of the ballgame against their apparently-more-NBA-friendly rivals. However, it wasn't enough to overcome the most one-sided officiating performance in recent history. Instead of having to overcome their tough opening stretch of games, injuries, poor play, porous defense, DeShawn Stevenson's presence, etc, the Wiz had to overcome both the influence of corporate partnerships and apparently something the NBA refers to as officiating last night in their 23rd almost-win. In case you were busy smashing your head against the wall instead of watching the Wizards umpteenth consecutive non-clinching fourth quarter, the Wiz were called for a phantom foul on a three point shooting player wearing 23, then they were called for charging on two consecutive plays, both of the questionable variety, sandwiched between a delightfully ticky-tacky loose ball foul with the game on the line.

There was no doubt that the fortunes of the Wiz were pre-determined, therefore it is unnecessary to look at the final score, since the illuminati-like team of Phil Knight and David Stern apparently phoned in the final score as soon as the Wiz held the lead with under two minutes remaining. The team the Wizards were playing against did nothing to secure a win other than hurl themselves to the floor (as per usual) in some of the poorest acting performances this side of "The Hills," with the "Closer"-like refereeing squad feigning influence by these pretending-to-be-hurt fakers.

Interesting note that before the game, the Wizards' opposition altered their uniform choice so as to appease one of their players and the release of his new, soon-to-be-on-sale-at-Marshall's shoe release. Interesting how exposed as terrible that player would have been if the NBA and Nike hadn't fixed up that fourth quarter and allowed the unfortunate Wiz to end that team's decrepit-home winning streak. Another interesting note that was happily buried in referee-abetted red tape: How another dude with the James surname was unstoppable, while the one from all of the lame commercials was busy complaining to the officials that his charges weren't called.

While the Wizards have had their fair share of moral victories this season, we here at the almost-monthly-updated DC Optimist feel that this moral victory is the most savorable. There was no way the NBA, TNT, Nike, et al were allowing their unfortunately uniformed darlings to fall against a Wiz team seemingly inspired by 24 consecutive hours of "A Christmas Story," which continued to air on the other Turner network. Mike James, likely leaving his now-famous progeny under worthy supervision, was shooting the Cavs's eyes out, and Antawn Jamison, who doled out impressive buckets almost as often as phantom fouls, earned an "A+++++++" grade tonight. And new starter Domenic McGuire is showing how nice it is to not have DeShawn Stevenson play as many minutes as he had earlier in the season with his improving defense, rebounding, passing, and dunking.

So even if after that pathetic excuse for a fixed outcome you have determined that watching NBA action is equivalent to watching a glorified Harlem Globetrotters performance (with terrible comedy courtesy of the anointed one during the commercial breaks!), and you will never tune in again, you ought to reconsider. Because with the odds-defying that the Wiz must overcome every night, that big win number five ought to be a more impressive victory than Ralphie's sudden beatdown of the yellow-eyed Scut Farkas.

MUST READS ON THE WEB

We know you are thinking, "Whoa, since when did the DCO pop up on my RSS feed twice in one week?" Well folks, it's time to celebrate, as for the first time since this blog's inception, a strong, emphatic, positive, enlightening W immediately followed a Wizards post on the DCO! To wit, there is master-scribe Mike Wise, patently preaching for the playtime plugging in of newest Wizard heartthrob JaVale McGee. What a piece from this reformed calmer-downer of the region's hyperbole-spewing set. As if your fill of awesome Wizards stuff wasn't completely sated by that gem, here is this relevant web link from our BFFs at Bulletsforever, who took the time to send me questions, likely to figure out when I might actually post again. Be sure to click on all of their advertisements as well.

Inspiring Wizards Advertisements

Oh Eddie Jordan, you and your undermanned, undergunning, yet never underachieving Wizards have once again struck the earth and dug yourselves another DC Hole of 0-5 to attempt to emerge from heroically once the writing off by the media has finally occurred. What to do now that Brendan, Gilbert, and A.D. are suffering ailments, the Hollinger and fiyastarter ratings sink you to the basement, and the emerging place from this deficit must begin in Utah, where pretty much no one wins? Such early season despair may cause Wiz fans to panic; where might they find the inspiration to trust in the efforts of Eddie's group to bounce back to their better than average ways? Why, if you are practitioners of 'tism, and ride the iron horses of the Metro rail, you might find inspiration in these enormous, seemingly nonsensical advertisements for a giant oil company. Some of the companies weird inner thoughts they hope for the country to share in an effort to conserve energy remain bizarrely chosen (we remain particularly inspired by the lady who will "unplug stuff more."). While the plea from the gentle elderly fellow with his strong beard to "Use less energy" fits right in with this blog's recent output, we see the inspiration in these messages as maybe applying to the Wiz, who are participating in their own cute little Metro ad campaign. Why not combine these two philosophies into one, and thus create the ultimate in energetic ad campaigns, only rivaling the 2003-2004 "Pure Energy" campaign moniker the Wiz used. Below are some prototypes:

Wizards in Mid-to-Late Season Form

Hey wizards fan, maybe you too were as excited as the DCO offices were that the Wizards were finally kicking off some preseason basketball action, action that was televised on Comcast Sportsnet featuring the bumbling, yet lovable duo of Steve Buckhantz and Phil Chenier. Maybe you were so excited that you cooked a steak with a lovely butter and garlic sauce sided with a blue cheese spaghetti dusted with bacon bits (oh Rachel Ray, your bacon-goes-with-anything philosophy is the stuff lives are based around). Maybe you had just cut a slice of your steak and inserted it into your mouth slowly as to let the succulent beef and butter sauce effectively enhance your cholesterol when suddenly the deliciousness that was crafted through your thirty-minutes of hard work vanished as Antawn Jamison, the rock of the lineup, the 20 and 10 big man, the heart and soul, the 08-09 Wes -- according to Abe Pollin, etc, crumpled to the floor after slipping on a hideous Dallas McCains logo en route to smothering Dirk Nowitski. The steak suddenly tasted of garlicky battery acid as 'tawn writhed on the floor and trained Eric Waters rushed to his side along with two others to walk him off the court. The blue cheese spaghetti tasted like live rattlesnakes peppered with pain as Phil and Buck read the requisite "knee sprain" from their reports. The night was officially ruined for you as you took your couch pillow, nestled it on top of your eyelids, threw the recliner back, and forced sleep upon yourself as if it were to stop the sadness of your Wiz-life entering such an early stage of disconnect(ed ligaments).

But, while dinner may have been ruined, FEAR NOT, as even if the Wizards played at mid-to-late season form (as in, body bag style), the news regarding Antawn's knee was good. Strained tendon. He even says he's good to go for the Memphis game, if it were game seven against the Cavs or whatever. Apparently, 'tawn went to the Jason Taylor school of iron-clad ligament enforcement, where even the scariest, most revolting looking knee grabs simply can be stretched out, walked off, and held intact without Gilbert's-career-threatening-like surgery.

It was then, Wizards fan, maybe after you realized that the witnessed knee strain (not sprain) that ruined dinner wasn't so bad, that you decided to partake in the remaining carton of Ben and Jerry's Smores Ice Cream, which was so awesome that you risked cardiac arrest and partook in injesting it. Then suddenly, Chris Miller of Comcast Sportsnet and Ivan Carter of the Post teamed up to deliver more shocking news that transformed the graham crackery goodness into sandpaper inflected drywall spackle. Brendan Haywood, the Wizards' exceedingly brilliant big man, who ratcheted up his game to such a high level last season that all previous years had completely been relegated to "development time," would likely miss 4-6 months (!!) getting surgery on his SPRAINED wrist. All of this news was delivered while Chris Miller flippantly added that Brendan likely chose this surgery because the season was a lost cause without Gilbert at 100% for two months anyways. HUGE INJURY PLUS COMMITMENT QUESTIONING? You too may have vomited a little, and not to taste the ice cream again.

But we here at the DC Optimist are not ones to panic in the face of repeated Wizards' injurious ways. We managed to maintain sanity and witness the sparkling play of three of the Wizards stockpiled bigs, and felt yes, everything would return to the peachy-keen ways of that imaginary period when the Wizards were kind of healthy.

1) Andray Blatche, sporting what appears to be an eraser-inspired Kufi on his head, was spectacular. Worked the post skillfully, spun away from defenders and hit circus shots, enacted fast breaks after getting rebounds, looked all of the freakishly talented 6-11 that we had been salivating over. Big Blatche's 19 and 5 could spot start for either the wood-man, or Jamison, and it would remain exciting.

2) JaVale McGhee, NOT A STIFF. This was the DCO's first witnessing of Pam McGhee's kid, and man, were we impressed with his footwork, general offensive ability, and actual athleticism that is NOT simply the result of extended limbs. Some may have been salty that the Wiz didn't draft some extracurricular activity-loving point guard back-up, but this kid McGhee looks to be the real deal. And this is while Eddie Jordan et al remain steadfast in their assessment that the kid is raw. Could this extra playing time cook him into the well done big man neither Brendan nor Etan could ever have been? Witness Blatche's development and Haywood's development. It is really looking like this team knows a thing or two about making viable centers, folks (ignore the thoughts about this guy when you read that).

3) Oleksiy Pecherov, ALSO NOT A STIFF. Kid was stroking threes and being a general offensive pest. Good stuff from Pesh, who hasn't seen much healthy action either (WIZARD 4 LIFE!). He spent most of his garbage time minutes last year shooting threes that bounced off the front of the rim, now, with a week or two of 100% status, he is nailing those threes.

So see? Even with Brendan's upcoming absence, Jamison's scary tumble, and the overall status of the economy possibly ruining your TV-inspired dinner, things will be OK, Wizards fan. Trust us.

Ernie Grunfeld Practices DCO Mantra, Resigns Key Cog(s)

Surely the latest playoff non-triumph delivered via the whimpering LeBron James and his striped cronies would cause the Wizards' certified Genius Manager (GM) Ernie Grunfeld to destroy anything even remotely resembling the 2007-2008 Wizards in lieu of a newer, younger, bigger, playoff-winnier, internet-friendlier team, right? Wrong. Grunfeld, a certified practicer of the DCO's patented mantra ("Relax, everything is going to be fine") has instead decided that the team that again almost beat the cohesive basketball-destroying floppers from Cleveland should remain pretty much intact, brilliantly re-upping all-star awesome Antawn Jamison for four more years, and working towards locking up Gilbert Arenas for what's looking like six years, after which both of their jerseys will mine the rafters next to all of those Mystics attendance championships.

And before you complain-blog about "keeping intact a mediocre team," and blaspheme this brilliant managerial move towards stability, which did not involve acquiring some aged, broken down center as some doofus suggested back when he still maintained a regular position at this blog, keep in mind that this team has yet to truly harness their combined worth. I'd tabulate all of their actual games played together, but then I'd just take work away from Bullets Forever, or I guess I could just link to some post where they have already postulated on this topic. Anyways, while the big three were intact, the Wiz were in first place, and while the wiz were in pieces, they beat the vaunted best team in the league. (Jamison in particular was beasting on the "intense" Garnett) Maintaining the structure of a first-place team is something that highly-approved team-constructors do.

Another thing highly-approved team constructors do is draft well. And after taking in every lamely protracted draft ranking and draft diary, I must say, new Wizard 7-footer JaVale Magee is certified grade-A draft earning material. Why? Naturally, with the Wiz having solid contributors to just about every position combined with a draft that is noticably lacking in talent outside of the first three studs, the predilection for finding a real contributor in these meandering rounds resembles a crap shoot. Thus, taking on a seven foot project, who has an insanely strong basketball pedigree (hmm, what other DC-based superstar has a hoops-playing Mom? Did he just pwn the entire NHL last year?) a wingspan that rivals secret covert ops planes housed in Langley, and an ability to "run the floor" that causes stiffs in Charlotte to cower, was a great decision that smart, foundation-building planners routinely take. Of all people to agree, Michael Wilbon was even on board, not so much as applauding the Grun-trust's decision to go with a Dwight-stopper, as he was hoisting the Wizards' decision-making prowess to the levels of their lauded playoff neighbors. With Magee, Andray Blatche, Nick Young, Domenic McGuire, and Oleksiy Pecherov, there are enormous, young, talented ballers that could cause match-up problems for entire seasons. The buying and selling of tweening prospect Billy Walker to the Celtics was a blip on the radar that likely registers more in De Moines' NBDL plans than in DC, where Ivan Carter assured the 90-thousand or so freaking out in the comment section, that Walker had no chance of cracking the lineup.

Plus, with the selling of this chip, Grunfeld opens up the possibility of retaining the only other questionable piece to this puzzle, the supposed odd-man-out, Roger "The Wheaton Weapon" Mason Jr. According to everyone, like much of the home-grown business that will soon be jettisonned from my 'hood in favor of sleeker, chain-ier stuff, Mason is likely not going to hang around. But with the cash saved in both Jamison's team-first paycut, and the dealing of Walker, Mason could, maybe, be retained.

Stability, punctuated with ground-building efforts from the bottom up. A great gameplan for both your sub-prime mortgaged house and for the construction of the Wiz, whose foreman continues to display traits of brilliance influenced by the 'tism. Here's to the Wiz making some serious noise in 08-09, and not of the "Ow I have torn my crucial joint thingy!" variety.

The Nightmare is Over

Mrs. DCO probably put it best when, shortly after Marian Hossa’s wouldn’t-have-counted-anyway last-second shot trickled harmlessly if-tantalizlingly through the crease, she said, “Someone had to lose, and I’m glad it was the Penguins.” With this godsend of a loss, we are now free from the mental anguish that has plagued us all since Pittsburgh threw their final regular season game against the Flyers so they could match up against Ottawa in the first round. Yes, the Senators, who were swept in the regular season by the Capitals long before it was fashionable, and common, to sweep the Senators. The Peguins’ shell-curling-up-in on that last day denied the Caps a chance to again take down Ottawa in four, and left the Chosen One and his lackeys an open door into the second round and beyond.

We watched in horror as we realized we had to first choose between the Penguins and Rangers. After but a few moments, it was clear we had to, extremely grudgingly, root for New York (I still choke on my keystrokes writing that). Once that trial was passed, it was on to perhaps the greatest conundrum in Washington sports outside a Cowboys-Eagles NFC Championship: Flyers vs. Penguins for the opportunity to play for the Cup. Was there more a sinking feeling in recent hockey history as knowing that one of these reviled franchises, one with the aforementioned Anointed One and one with Danny Briere, would be within but four victories of defiling that fine silver chalice? It was enough to (almost) make an optimist’s heart wilt.

But we got through it and, as always, were able to find something positive in the experience. A celebration of a quarter century of Philly sports dominance was worth seeing the Penguins become Eastern Conference champions – provided they lost the next round. And lose they did, despite Sidney Crosby’s “performance for the ages” in Game 3 and Evgeni Malkin’s imminent breakout heralding, accidental game-winning-goal-assisting Game 5. Rescuing us from more Crosby coddling was Conn Smythe winner Henrik Zetterberg, who tied lil’ Sid for the playoff points lead (often scoring goals) and denied him yet another pair of his birthrights: leading the playoffs in points, and possibly the Conn Smythe itself.


The last week has been a hectic week for DCO, with both members immersed in working obligations in the Central timezone, hence the paucity of posting. All is well now, however, and we are ready to bring you another summer of Nats’ successes (on the field and in the draft room), Capitals’ trophy-collecting and roster-strengthening, Redskins’ gearing-up for a season of continuity, Wizards’ doing the same, and United’s staging of another comeback from a less-than-ideal start. That we get to enjoy such a summer without glowing stories of Crosby’s heroic secondary-assist dishing, his superior “vision” for being able to skate into the offensive zone and drop the puck to a defenseman (a move nobody else has ever pulled off, ever), his unprecedented two-goal game in the Finals, and Malkin’s inspiring 3-point Cup Finals performance makes it all the sweeter.

At last, the only hockey news in front of us is good news. Alex Ovechkin will collect a couple of trophies on June 12. Bruce should collect another, and Nick Backstrom is a prime deserving candidate for yet another. Then we wait on imminent signings of next season’s third-line center Sergei Fedorov, and next season’s starting goalie, Cristobal Huet. Still more goodness follows, with a key free agent signing here and there, followed by a training camp featuring a healthy Michael Nylander, Chris Clark, and Brian Pothier, then on to a division-title-defending season culminating in a Cup run, perhaps with a sweep of the Penguins thrown in. It’s (finally) going to be a good summer.

Best Songaila Suspension Outrage Comment

Everyone knows that the place to get the pulse of the Wizards fanbase, in addition to the lame taunts of trolling Clevelanders, is the oft-bizarre, un-modded comments section of the Washington Post's Wizards Insider blog! While they already pay someone to find the super-sweet comments, we found one particular quip that was so brilliant we thought that more props ought to be distributed.

Instead of posting rightful outrage against the conspiracy-driving Lebron Official-nados ourselves, we thought we would instead let the anonymous commenter speak for us all (in his/her best Buckhantz voice):

"IT'S NOT POSSIBLE!!!"

Great job there, guy/girl. RE: Lame Cleveland trolls posting the same lame DeShawn Stevenson statutory rape joke like 12 times in a row, it still isn't funny.

These others however, funny:

"I can't feel my jaw!!!" - DC Man88

"The NBA. Where fixing the playoffs happens." - Ben

"Wanna know the definition of irony?
Cavs fans coming on Wizards site to say we are crybabies.
Calling US crybabies? You need to wake up and smell the crap. Have you seen what your poster boy has been doing all series long?" - Brickjp

etc. etc. etc. for like ever.

Other blogs are gathering the responses, including a rather neutered one from DCO bff Jake the Snake from Bullets Forever. C'Mon Jake, if the NBA governing bodies can't express professionalism, why should you. (still love you though)

Knotts Landing On the Anointed One

While Pro'Verb's hot fiyah spittings have been both awe-inspiring ("Incredibly hot" -- says DeShawn) and timely, the real ether brought to this series was from frequently poetic newspaper scribe Tom Knott. Who better to unleash the furies upon the anointed one and his team of striped cronies than the Moonie-fed slam poet, who can be a bit onery, especially when his nemesis Etan Thomas, ne "the Poet" in Knott-speak, or those pesky Gilbert Arenas attention ploys are involved, but that's what happens when you got an MC that's fed up with the BS and must speak on it. Wednesday's column "Sweet Crybaby James" just about obliterates Mike Wise's previous efforts (although this Tough Juice appreciation piece and this "Win it for Abe!" piece may have drawn two or three tears over here). T-Knott throws those viscious one-sentence dart-'graphs in such a venomous free-prosed manner complete with those Knott-isms you love—the nicknames, the political-incorrectness, every sentence beginning with a preposition likely throwing grammar Nazis into the throws of a fit that no serial comma could ever induce—providing the freestyle cypha that the media's coverage has delved into with its most fortuitous effort. Peep game:

"DeShawn Stevenson knocked off the headband of James in Game 4, and you
could have thought Stevenson was guilty of assault and battery.

Such embellishing is customary in Cleveland, where even the elementary
comes cloaked in superlatives if James is behind it.

His pass to Delonte West in the final seconds of Game 4 — the object of
so much gushing — was hardly awe-inspiring. It was a play that as many as
three-quarters of the players in the NBA could have made. It merely required
James to spot the second defender drifting toward him and dump the ball to the
open teammate on the baseline.

It did not send chills down the back of anyone, excluding the LeBrohava
Witnesses of Cleveland, so psychologically crippled by the John Elway Drive, the
Earnest Byner Fumble and the Jordan Shot over Craig Ehlo that it indulges anyone
it believes could end the championship curse."

DAYUMN SON! The sheriff of Knottingham lands blow after blow upon the headbanded one's coddled dome, and this was all done BEFORE the triumphant triumphs of game five! Could this column have had a reverse Mike Wise effect in Cleveland, where copies were given to the urine-colored shirt clad DeShawn booers and Bog commenters in attendance in order to congratulate them for being "intimidating"? Of course that might require them having reading comprehension skills, most of which they, and their column-writing representers seem to lack.

How about a Pro'Verb-Sin-Knott-tra collabo? It has got Black Republicans trumped, trust.

UPDATE: Knott's column this morning = genius.

Exclusive Look at DeShawn Stevenson's iTunes Selections

Through some seriously investigative means, the DCO was able to find DeShawn Stevenson's personal computer and instead of checking for and posting incriminating stuff like most blogs do according to Buzz Bissinger, we decided instead to post his iTunes playlist. Interesting choice of songs here, not necessarily because of that whole rap-troversy that follows this series, with the diss song, and the subsequent response song, etc, but because of the lyrical content of this, which is apparently, the only song in DeShawn's playlist:

Say hello
To the bad guy
Hello
They say i'm a bad guy
I come from the bottom
But now i'm mad fly
Hello
They say i'm a menace
That's the picture they paint
Hello
They say a lot about me Let me yell ya what i ain't
Hello
They say i'm a bad guy
Say Hi to the bad guy
Hello
I come from the bottom But now i'm mad fly
They say i'm a menace That's the picture they paint
They say a lot about me Let me tell ya what i ain't
Say hello
Hello
Ay, ay,
They say a lot about me
Let me tell you what i ain't

Pertinent lyrics, no?

Tough Juice Nutritional Information

Intricate Detailed Game 5 Post

Optimistic Observations From Up North

I’m back to posting after a little more than a week in my new location, experiencing, at the moment, only mild withdrawal from my beloved DC sports, thanks to some fortuitously timed television broadcasts.

Our cable was hooked up just in time to see all of Game 7 between the Caps and Flyers. While the result of that game and series was undeniably undesirable (Tom Poti for tripping in overtime? Really?), it’s hard to see the Caps now-ended season as anything more than an unqualified success and another step on the road to a decade’s worth of Cup contention. The stated goal was to make the playoffs. Playoffs made. Next year: advance. Given the way Jack-Adams-winner-in-waiting Bruce II and the lads played since November, it’s hard to see anything but serious advancement happening next year.

There was also some disappointment. Mike Wise, so close to DCO Hall of Fame induction with so many recent non-Jason-La-Canfora-like columns, backslid in a serious way during the last week. Disturbing evidence surfaced in his mostly positive eulogy of the Caps’ season. The insidious shades of long-dormant optimism hating came to the surface in Wise’s decidedly unwise quoting of a deluded Flyers’ fan who somehow thought his team forged the Capitals into mature hockey players with their unwielding manliness:

Bottom line about the series comes from an astute Flyers fan, who said: "When your team plays like a hockey team and not a bunch of figure skaters with padding, you win. Our fans and team didn't beat the Caps up. We made them men. You're welcome."
Down the road, the Caps will thank you, Philadelphia, from the bottom of their Game 7 hearts.

Bad enough is the quoting of this nitwit. Worse is the lending of credence to the baldly faulty logic by referring to the fan as “astute”. Still worse is thanking the fan for this logic, while failing to ask if this pillar of astute fandom helped to boo his team off the ice after Game 6. And let’s examine the logic. First, the wildly clichéd “figure skater” derision, applied in an appropriately clichéd fashion to the Capitals, simply because they possess a modicum of true hockey skill and don’t base their game purely on goalie-running. Oh, and Alex Ovechkin is nothing like a figure skater, if that’s what this idiot was getting at. Second, I would argue that a few months of must-win hockey, culminating in a season-closing, division-clinching 11-1 run, made this team “men” much more than a bunch louts and their badly conceived playoff slogan.

With the Caps gone, Wise went back to his true favorite pastime: Wizards bashing, as Bobtimist Prime ably documented. So we’ve had to cancel the DCO HOF bust-carving. We’re sure Wise is crushed.

Speaking of DCO HOF members, this past week has seen John Lannan extend his scoreless inning streak to 14 innings, a solid 23.7% of the way to Orel Hershiser’s record of 59 innings.

Thursday the 24th brought me a nice treat, being able to concurrently watch the Nats’ 10-5 dismantling of the Mets and the Wizards’ 108-72 emphatic dumping of the Cavs on blessed regional and national cable. For a few precious hours, Westport, CT, felt a lot like Alexandria, VA. It was fleeting, of course, as the end of the Capitals’ season sunk in and the Nationals moved off to non-New-York climbs, but it was a nice transitional day.

It was also a start of a nice little run by the Nats, who’ve won four out of five since then. Busting out of that early season slump? Yes. Just like Ryan Zimmerman, he of the 3-for-4, 3 RBI performance last night, is emerging from his own early season nadir.

I’d be totally remiss in not mentioning another A+ draft effort from the Redskins. A trio of optimism-spouting second-round picks, ready to make all sorts of pass-catching, field-stretching contributions: that’s the stuff. So positive-sounding was this article that I thought for a moment, “what’s with La Canfora and all the positivity?” Foolish me should have realized such ‘tism was impossible from such a purveyor of negativity, and that the more forward-thinking Jason Reid penned this lovely draftee introduction.

So, not the worst week, even with the Caps temporarily feeling the sting of first-round elimination and the Wizards being pushed to the proverbial brink. Just as it’s doubtless the Caps will be back, it’s doubtless the Wizards will yet make this a long and competitive series, the faulty predictions of an allegedly infallible golden boy notwithstanding. I hope to be able to post a little more now, with the move settling down, and look forward to following from afar the Wizards’ comeback and another Nationals season turnaround. With any luck I’ll even be able to pop into DC for a game or two this summer.

Things We Have Witnessed

- Cowardice on display with the anointed one crying to the officials, Jay-Z, David Stern, et al. regarding the false injurous reputation of the Wizards, not only during a heinously overwrought skinned elbow incident, but also during a press conference yesterday. Whatever falsely upheld legacy that Lebron weilds upon his leaving of the Cavs and joining of the Brooklyn whoevers before he retires ought to be stained by his behavior during this series.

- More cowardice on display as the anointed one pretended to want to drop the gloves against Deshawn after a namby-pamby flagrant-one to which he added in his legendarily lame presser yesterday that "if it were on the playground something would have happened." Yeah, it wouldn't have been a foul.

- The only Cavs fans in existence sitting behind me during game four making lamely racist quips about Deshawn Stevenson being "high" despite no official reports deeming such a thing as ever happening. The quips about Caron being a former drug dealer were also tasteless, but such trivial racism is the only thing to grasp when you have no championships, ever, to grasp.

- Lebron providing more locker room post-its for the Wiz to generate positive, competivitive-fire-igniting reaction in the form of winning the next three.

- Possibly the lamest diss song since "What's Clef Got to Do With It" being performed by the supposed greatest rapper alive. A pathetic attempt to stay interesting by grampa Jigga, trying hard to help poor baby Lebron stave humiliation at the constantly-trumping via pop culture, Stevenson. Someone get Cam'Ron on the horn.

- Mike Wise forgoeing all the fine work done during the Caps series to awkwardly pretend to understand the rap music, then return to the fawn-fest upon anointed's passing up of the game winner.

- Seven-step drives to the hoop.

- The Verizon Center, rife with Optimilitia members, again turning the place out with fan-tastically brilliant "over-rated" chants, cheers for every Deshawn move, and lustful boos for the oft-terrible officiating. Hopefully game six will feature a Cavalier catching a wayward beer bottle too.

- The effectiveness of pretending to be injured, as it is the main thrust of Cleveland's defensive philosophy.

- A very not-100% Gilbert gutting out a series he could have street-clothesed through.

- Brendan Haywood being awesome on and off the court.

- The mainstream media and the NBA establishment's rampant desire for mute, smiley, styrofoamy talking game-slaves over interesting people who offer a glint of personality. The manner in which Cleveland's terrible clatch of column-scribes have eviscerated Stevenson for speaking the truth, oftentimes reaching for generalizations not unlike the douche-bag Cavs fans who sat behind me and chortled in ESPN hats, has truly been a sight to behold. One wonders the purpose of becoming a basketball reporter, as when a player expresses some sort of opinion that isn't 100% vanilla milquetoast, said player becomes the anti-Christ all of a sudden. Now Gilbert is an attention-whore for writing a blog that has revolutionized professional sports on the internet, and these people would rather him be a wordless chimp, chucking up jumpshots after passing three times, lest he possibly make a name for himself.

- The weeks-long phenomenon that is "Crank Dat" getting stuck into your head.

- The ineptitude of Gary Williams's recruitment strategies (hello urria ballers Beasley, Durant, Green, Hibbert, etc. all never having been invited to college park).

- The blossoming of a young, strong-willed, best-offense-shutter-downer pitcher in John Lannan
- A universally well-thought-of NFL draft, where all needs were met; despite what you may have read from meandering hate-scribe La Canfora.

- The inevitable cutting of Larry Hughes from the Bulls followed by him re-signing at the vets minimum to play for the Wiz followed by a career resurgence.

"They Are Trying to Hurt Me, Danny!"

When not badmouthing Verizon Center bound, hopefully-white-clad faithfuls, Ivan Carter puts in the reporting god-work, as evidenced by his recent lip-reading of the intolerable douche-bag anointed one, providing the quote of the playoffs. Here's what IC wrote:

I'm no professional lip reader but I swear that after Brendan Haywood's hard
foul on LeBron James last night, James mouthed the words "They're trying to hurt
me Danny!" to referee Dan Crawford.

That is pretty much the most softest, manly-less display of basketball fakery in the history of men playing each other in non-soccer sports. Lebron, him with the grimmacing wincing "whoa-I-got-touched" facial expressions delivered whilst given another favorable whistle, is pleading to the NBA officials to throw the genial Brendan Haywood out of the game for causing what amounted to be a skinned elbow, just begging Dan Crawford to save him from the slight contact that playing in a basketball game might affront. Now I don't want to invoke Bobby Knight, really ever, but in this situation, I must. The General said during one of his numerous ESPN whore-sessions, "This is a game where kids get bloody noses, and broken arms..." I figured that this whole "playoff toughness" mentality that is supposed to be proving paramount according to those twinkling piano, zoomed-in-images NBA commercials would involve not literally crying to the officials about a team playing hard. As if Haywood's foul, one that pretty much 100% of Oakland Terrace Elementary School Saturday afternoon ballaz have experienced at least twice per game, was done to maliciously destroy that super important layer of skin that protects poor Lebron's precious shoving-0ff elbow.

Actions such as this need to hurl the 'militia into the throes of throatal response. Recent displays post-Caps games have been wondrous, and we need to apply the same amount of fracas-inducing attitude towards Mr. Shill. Chant's of "Man" Stevenson's "OVER-RATED" mantra need to be audible. Posters of the above image need to be visible. Resistance to Cleveland professional hackery need to be strongly reinforced. Referees need to be reminded that they do not work for Nike with "REF-YOU-SUCK"s. I want to not be able to feel my ears.

Wizards to Schedule Playoff Games During Your First Child's Birth

Seriously, wtf Abe?

Apparently, unbeknownst to the dude owning like 49% of the team, the Wizards will AGAIN be playing a playoff game AT THE EXACT SAME TIME as the Caps tonight, just as they did Saturday night, to which I had to receive text updates of the Wiz score from the incomparable Fredy while I participated in another friggin' awesome red-out at Verizon. If I had known that the Wiz were to be playing their first playoff game simultaneously, I might have thought to stay home and thus miss Verizon Center's tribute to the DC Optimist through its playing of "UWay" after a glorious third period Cristobal save. Holy validation! I am correct to assume that the brilliant minds on display at the Verizon Center, having pieced together such brilliance as the opening playoff vid punctuated with the Dale Hunter SWOTGWG at the end, happened upon our blogspot, noted the awesomeness and the resulting burrowing effect of the song into their subconscious, and then played it for the rest of the Caps fanaticals, thus boosting their enjoyment factor 10-fold? I only hope that when the cup is hoisted, I am given at least one trip around the rink after Milan Jurcina's turn. Just kidding, I guess full access to the locker room whenever we wanted was reward enough.

So yeah, what exactly happened at the Wiz game Saturday? Apparently, Deshawn "Man" Stevenson was crazy accurate with his shot, and he kept Lebron James in check almost all game! Gilbert played, Caron played...wow, reading from a box score sure doesn't breed pertinent analysis like actually viewing live footage would. But the guys who both schedule Wizards games and serve to profit from them seem to think that since I enjoy basketball, I care not about local hockey teams. But these wealthy individuals would be wrong. Despite what Ivan Carter keeps carping about regarding the regal lameness of a Wizards game-event, this city loves all five of its sporting teams, especially when they participate in playoff action! Wouldn't it be lovely if we could participate in watching them at a time in which we could fully view them without the aid of DVR (which I don't have thanks to Comcast's gouging rates causing me to eat Ramen noodles three days a week just so I can see Phil Chenier's glorious 'stache in high-def)? I bet the people who both own and schedule the Wizards and the Capitals games may think that because I enjoy watching hockey in person for a substantially larger fee than normal, I also don't care for the rap music, right? Why can't the people who stand to earn significant sums of dough from my enjoyment of both of their sports see that I, and many of the 40-plus per day readers of this site both enjoy the Capitals' playoffitude, and the Wizards' playoffitude. The Verizon Center technical reps understood, thus their installation of "UWay" into the arena song cannon (obviously replacing the heinous "Good Ole Hockey Game"). Why can't the folks who own that building and fund those brilliant minds see that as well?

Ugh.

For the last portion of this post, I would like to abstain from further negativity and instead celebrate the contributions of the dude whose namesake is this blog's title (which kind of confused some people, as it is a two-headed monster, but one whose namesake invokes just one participant). This blog was born out of the DC Optimist's brilliant mind and fed uppedness with local sports coverage and its lack of positivity. He managed to take a lackadaisical lackey on with a sorta-cute name and an obsession with the internet and let him express his thoughts in a manner that impressed his mother and aunt, both frequent readers, and got the attention of people who matter. This blog has been a wondrous outlet for my creative spellingz and wordingz and to have people actually reference it, as I repeat, THE VERIZON CENTER DID DURING A PLAYOFF GAME SATURDAY, is a magnificent feeling, one that could not have been felt without the steady contributions of the actual DCO. I truly feel like the Semin to his Ovie. Especially when I disappear for like two or three weeks trying to find some clever way to incorporate my love of crime novels, rap music and boxing into some post about Lorenzo Alexander. 80% of the good stuff came from him, and as if there wasn't enough self-fellation going on around here recently, I felt like with his departure to Yankee-Met-whoever is winning country, a bit of this blog will vanish up there with him and Mrs. DCO and thus more tribute should be paid.

:(

But fear not, tism-hounds, I (promise) to step up my blog-game as these playoff series become more intense (and congruently shown on television)! I will be flipping betwixt both broadcasts tonight and will detail my finest feelings in a manner that properly encapsulates some sort of originality, praise, analysis, jokes, and fun you've come to expect from the DC Optimist, but will have to receive from his sidekick (and Semin has been pretty freakin' awesome this series no? BTW: Here's a preview of tomorrow's post, Semin's punching in the face of Danny "lil [**female dog curse word**]" Brierre earns him Conn Smythe honors).

Stay Tuned (unless it is being broadcasted simultaneously with something else you enjoy).

Wizards Playoff Preview: COLD GETTIN' DUMB

Hey party people, it's Wizards playoff season, and you know what that means (as based on the past two seasons), it's time for Lebron and his roster of referee friends to make their way through the speed bump that is the Wizards towards his endless anointing via the NBA marketing machinery, right? Well according to Wilbon (WILBON!) that is wrong. QUICK, take one guess who might agree with the onery occassional-carer of DC sports: that's right, us. Wizards. Sweep. You know the drill. Except this time, the humor and irony that trying hard to find the silver lining in a season torn from us by a non-playoff-participating Jordanairre's statistic amassing legs is not the basis behind this post. No, the Wizards will sweep because the Wizards are a better team. And Lebron, and his newly added clatch of crusty old floppers are barely treading water since they were thrown together as if they were methadone attempting to break a smack addiction (something native Clevelanders may know about). The team has just gone from mediocre to extra mediocre, while the Wiz have risen high!

It's nice to be so unlike last year, when people were giving the Wiz-Cavs series the same amount of attention they gave quarterlife during it's epic one episode run. In fact many are calling this series the Envy-Eli Porter MC battle of the east in both it's competitiveness and it's inclusion of rap and hilarity. We too are excited about the potential rap battle between DeShawn "Man" Stevenson's new bff, Souljah Boy, and Lebron's tired old father figure fogey-type bff, Jay-Z. Now, Bobtimist has been known to bump one or four of Jay-Z's eight number one albums from time to time in "the whip," but ever since the much publicized lame Lebron comparison between his old idol (who actually experienced success without the aid of record company official types abetting his rise to prominence through the non-calling of industry rules) and how he is like MC Joe Camel while DeShawn is like Souljah Boy, because he isn't as important, talented, or necessary, I have been upset with the misperception. Unlike "Man's" brilliant player analysis, Lebron is wrong.

When making a metaphor, as many rappers do from time to time, one must find some sort of congruence on both sides of the "like" and in the case of DeShawn Stevenson's play, he is not congruent to the teenage fad dance creating, likely-forgotten-three-months-from-now, flash-in-the-pan rapper Souljah Boy. If you look at "Man's" career (and fellow blogger-types, please stop calling him D-Steve, that sounds like a terrible nickname the IT department would give their newest database management administrator David Stevens after his third straight homerun during the company softball team's two-game winning streak) you will see that he was never "like" a one-hit phenomenon who will subsequently fade out into a career of Indian Reservation Casino performances and VH1 talking head gigs.

Although "Man" began in a phenom-sort of way, coming straight out of high school to the league, winning legendary dunk contests at Mickey-D's All-American games, he ended up losing touch with the mainstream golden oldies Stockton and Malone in these formative stages, but he put in endless work, eventually landing in the perfect situation in Washington where in his two years of steadfast improvement, he has flourished as both a defensive pest and a spot shooter (career-highs in three pointers two consecutive years). If any rapper type could be compared to "Man", a practice performed better on many-a blog sites, I think the New York rapper AZ (not to be confused with Jay-Z) would be a better comparison. AZ began as the phenom sort, stealing the show from Nas during "Life's a B1%ch" and instead of forming into the mainstream rap-god everyone saw in him, he settled into a steady stream of solid releases. AZ even goes so far as to lash out at the supposed big guns, like he did when he went after 50 Cent on the "Royal Salute" track.

Which brings us to the other side of this analogy, and who better to compare Lebron to than 50. Insane hype before the first full-length album/season, a steady string of well-received materials but an overall disdain for anything truly spectacular, lots of style, yet little substance, quite literally a douche bag, -- seems a lot more congruous than Jay-Z, who has put in a lion share more work, and provided many more quality releases (unlike Lebrick's last release vs. the Wiz --clank!), than 50 ever will. A more apt comparison to Jay-Z would be someone like, as Jigga often mentions, Michael Jordan, who touched the untouchable reached the unreachable blah blah blah for so long before wilting into a terrible general manager. (The jury is out whether Jigga's reign as the Def Jam CEO = Michael's years in Washington).

So I would say that Lebron, in addition to being overrated, is obviously wrong in his actual rating abilities. So with "Man" trying to hook Souljah Boy up with tickets and a game-worn for the series and the Optimilitia hopefully energizing the lame-according-to-Ivan-Carter crowds with their steady chants of "OVER-RATED" during free throws, it's obvious that the Wizards have the right idea when it comes to getting into someone's head (unlike one jerk-hole-ish way to get inside someone's head that should have been assessed with a technical, but I digress).

So does that make the Wizards the "dumbest team in the history of civilization," as stated by the autobiography-writing, and re-writing Charles Barkely? Only in the sense that they are COLD GETTIN' DUMB on the court during this series. As relentless as Kurtis Mantronik's bassline was in that stellar Just-Ice gem, the Wiz will be relentlessly attacking the basket, this time with healthy, talented, superstars, not crochety pieces on the washed-up side of their careers. Caron Butler: back after nursing a sore knee and the notion that he is injury-prone. Antawn Jamison: also returning from bumps and bruises after manly performances against the elite. Gilbert Arenas: another returner from injury who only sealed the Wiz's playoff positioning with a classic fourth quarter against the Sixers last week. Antonio Daniels: soldiering through a torn wrist ligament towards another strong playoff series. Brendan Haywood: Career highs in everything. The bench rotation: Songaila, Mason, Blatche, the kids. All a huuuuge improvement over disasters of yesteryears.

No need for snark, this is series is sweep material, Right? YAH TRICK YAAAAHH!

"One of those Manly Games"

That quote is from playoff-bound Wizards coach Eddie Jordan regarding his team pwning the constantly vaunted Boston Celtics and their best record in the league for a third straight time. It references a style of play where 'men' emerge from the pomp, circumstance, anticipation nerves and pressure packing that usually belie a team that has withstood much in the way of adversity on their way to another successful season. The 'manliness' that was on display in front of 20,000-plus at the Verizon Center became glaringly apparent when Antawn Jamison shook an "intense" Kevin Garnett on the baseline with a post move, swung left and blasted a dunk over the grill of Kendrick Perkins. On the next play, Garnett, who earlier managed to toss two no-look passes into the stands, attempted to post up Jamison, only to have the ball deflected off of his leg by non-nicknamed number 4 and his inherrent tenacity. One wonders if Garnett, who couldn't help but recognize the swagger of the Wiz after the game, cried to John Thompson after seeing the highlights (at least he managed to block some shots after the whistle. INTENSELY).

We were supposed to be mourning this Wizards team, after Jamison and Deshawn "Man" Stevenson crumbled during that freak jump ball and subsequent Buckhantz "NOOOOOOOO!" against the Bucks, but as we noted earlier, this team can withstand gut punches, much like Andray Blatche withstood gunshots and Oleksiy Pecherov withstood the screams in terror of young children who bear witness to his ghastliness. That is why the Wizards remain the manliest team in the league. When the Miami Heat received a few injurious days, they withered like the pages of an old paper back, with on-again, off-again head coach Pat Riley taking "scouting trips" during the more mundane required schedule appearances. Quitting in the face of adversity is not manly.

Neither is posturing, as the intense KG continued to do last night despite being worked up and down the court by Jamison and Brendan Haywood. Remember before the year started when Gilbert was on a media rampage, and he made some comments about not double-teaming Garnett in the clutch and it lead to a bunch of people bad mouthing him and Bostonians to lose their chowdah? Geez, Gilbert sure is sounding clairvoyant now, despite weathering the boos of a lustful Boston crowd in the only non-successful meeting between the C's that occurred after his fateful interview with Dime. It reminds me of other sets of clairvoyant predictions made in these parts. Could weathering the maelstrom and emerging in a strong playoff position be in the cards for the Nationals? We think so!

Now that the real big three have returned, it is time to properly get excited about the Wiz. The fourth seed could be secured in a very Caps-like fashion if the next four games are won, and Cleveland falters slightly. A first-round matchup with those hated Cavs, who, barring the intervention of marketing-minded referees, shouldn't be much of a problem, as shouldn't a second rounder with those Celtics and their vauntedness.