Up until last week, I was rooting for the Blazers harder than any other team in the league. No, not in the overhyped, unproven "every former Sonic fan will instantly become a Blazer fan" way, but because I admire how they've built their team through the draft -- and the local connection (B-Roy, Martell Webster, Nate McMillan) certainly doesn't hurt. But once they threatened to sue any team for signing Darius Miles, who, at the time the threat was made, needed to play in only two more games to count against Portland's salary cap for the next two years (his $9 million annual tab will prevent the Blazers from being major players in the free agent market), I've been rooting against them. Not for them to lose, per se, but for D-Miles, whose career Portland disingenuously declared over a couple years ago when their true motive was to further scrub away their Jailblazers image, to stick it to them. And last night, he did, in more ways than one.

Let's start with the obvious: He played last night for the Grizzlies, in their loss to the mighty Cavaliers. That means D-Miles needs just one more second of game action to dash Portland's hopes of luring a top-flight free agent anytime soon (never mind that the should be more than fine nurturing their current roster or using any number of surplus pieces to improve via trade). But if Portland is serious about carrying out their lawsuit -- and we'd be shocked if they were, considering it's one of the more frivolous legal threats we've ever come across -- it's what else Miles did last night that should nail that coffin shut. First, he re-signed with the woeful Grizzlies and not an arch rival like Utah or the Lakers. Hence, it would be pretty tough to prove that Memphis' motives are anything but pure here. But perhaps most damaging was the fact that Miles scored 13 points in 13 minutes against the best team in the East (and the franchise that traded him to Portland, ironically). It doesn't really matter if that eruption came in garbage time or not; any basketball player who can do that against any NBA defense most certainly has at least a little gas left in the tank. If Memphis -- or anyone -- had acquired D. Miles and put him in with 30 seconds to go so their team's starting small forward could get a standing ovation, Portland might have a claim here. But last night, D-Miles proved that they're pissing in the wind.

As Seely noted yesterday, if former-Blazer Darius Miles plays two more NBA games this season, it will cost the Blazers $18 million and force them to pay the luxury tax--money that's distributed to the other NBA teams. Perfectly aware of this vulnerability, of course, the Blazers have fired off a pre-emptive warning. If anyone signs Miles with the intention of messing up their cap space, they say, they'll sue.

This is a pretty stupid move by Portland. First, the organization that has been obsessed with rehabilitating its reputation after the arrest-filled early-oughts, and that is well-suited to play the underdog role with a young team in a small market, is behaving like a boorish corporate behoemeth, threatening gratuitous lawsuits and making local fans (they lobbied to get Seattle defined as part of the Portand media market) essentially watch their games on pay-per-view.

And what team is really going to have a hard time signing Miles in a non-tortious manner? The only way Portland has a hint of a case is if a team gives all sorts of signals that they're signing Miles to mess with Portland. Absent a paper trail and a ton of leaks, teams are in the clear. And they can thank Portland's latest missive for a timely reminder of that fact.

Because if the erstwhile "next Kevin Garnett" plays two more games this year, his whopper of a salary will count against the Trail Blazers' cap for the next couple years, thus hampering them severely in the free agent market.

Candace Parker is pregnant with her and husband Sheldon Williams first child. Parker, of course, is the best player in women's basketball, and also one of the most physically attractive. Williams, of course, is a lottery bust who plays for one of the NBA's worst teams and has a face that looks like it's been trampled by a herd of buffalo. So yeah, let's hope the baby gets Parker's looks.

Former Seattle SuperSonic and forever Buzzer Beater favorite Vlad Radmanovic--normally allergic to rebounding and any action in the paint--put up 16 points in 18 minutes against Portland last night. Scoring binges from Vlade are not unusual; what is unusual is seven trips to the foul line. He also pulled down a respectable four rebounds in his limited time on the floor. This from a guy who probably thinks The Key is a new nightclub. What gives, Vlad? This isn't a contract year.

  
Remember Bob Weiss, the hapless baldie on the Sonics sideline whose inability to get his team even to pantomime defense led to his firing 30 games into the 05'-06' season? Now remember Bonzi Wells, the foulmouthed, free-spitting former Blazers swingman who, in explaining a home game in which he threw towels and water bottles on the court and flipped the bird to some fans, said "I just black out sometimes"?

Well, the basketball gods have brought them together--in China, with the Shanxi Zhongyu. (Just three years ago, Wells turned down a $36 million contract in the NBA.) In keeping with the disciplined nature of Weiss' teams, Wells recently concluded a three-game stretch in which he went 11-54 from three-point range. Read the hilarious highlights here.

This kid from OKC has a few words for Sonics fans. Note that Buzzer Beater commenter and Haymaker & Sally star Camp Jones is among the shit-talking responders:

Photo of MacCulloch at pinball tournament from Pinball News.

The Washington Post ran a great story yesterday on how former-Husky Todd MacCulloch has immersed himself in competitive pinball after a nerve condition in his feet forced him to retire early from the NBA. H/t to True Hoop.

One of the amusing things about the sports world is the way it lionizes practitioners of cheesy pop psychology and motivational ploys. Phil Jackson has been dubbed "Zen Master" mostly for staying quiet, playing fourth-grade mind games with his players and the press, and alluding occasionally to Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

Pat Riley is similarly hailed as a deep and powerful thinker on the psychology of peak performance. This afternoon's broadcast of the Miami/Chicago game provided a shining example of Riley's brilliance--in his own words. This is why sports needs an equivalent to Inside the Actors Studio:
 

These tickets are gone now. Sorry, everyone.