Vince Carter Cingular Wireless commercial, I hardly knew ye.

Miami 95, Dallas 92

It's too late for me to say much of anything about these now-concluded NBA Finals, except that after the greatest playoffs I've ever seen, it's extremely unsatisfying to watch a team that dogged it the entire season - and that was well-stocked with deservedly maligned, ring-chasing bastard veterans - ride their fucking-phenomenal star player's coattails to the championship. Yes, the officiating stunk at many crucial moments but that by itself doesn't begin to account for the Mavs' collapse, and a couple of those calls went their way in the waning moments of tonight's game as well.

But oh man, I've got to comment on one of the most brutal aspects of watching this or any other sporting event: the reporters. During one of several undignified tirades this series (and playoffs, and season, etc.), Mark Cuban basically ripped them from asking such stupid questions all the time, and ain't it the truth. The primary line of questioning in tonight's game, for example, was endless variations on "What was going through your mind when ____?" Inevitably, this will be followed by some stock answer about defense, going strong to the basket, etc. Very rarely you'll get someone like Shaq who's colourful (i.e. assholish) enough to occasionally inject some personality into the sideline proceedings, or a bonehead like Rasheed Wallace will lift his fake WWF belt and boldly guarantee victory before completely buckling the next game, but the vast majority of players aren't going to say anything inflammatory or reckless just so they can dazzle Stuart Scott with what little info of interest they have to impart. Why the hell should they? Twice Shaq was asked during the victory celebration how this one compares to his wins w/ the Lakers. Stop beating the same manufactured "storylines" to death, reporters... please! Just stick to injury updates and the like and quit proving what little is going through your mind when you're rehashing these tired questions. I'm just begging for someone at least to have the balls big enough to ask Vince Carter, "So Vince, why don't we feed the dog people food, huh?!? HUH, VINCE?!?"

Anyway, congrats to David Stern's #1 man-crush, Dwyane Wade, and Alonzo Mourning, as I can't really begrudge a guy who came back from a kidney transplant of anything, regardless of his faults. Oh and while evil (i.e. Gary Payton, Jason Williams, Antoine Walker) may have prevailed this time, there is a bright shining light on next year's horizon; generated by a team featuring a returning Amare Stoudamire and a certain Canadian hippie/back-to-back (don't count on a three-peat) MVP. As Velvet Underground visionary Doug Yule once sang, who loves the Sun(s)!