There is equally a reason why so many fans scoff at the synthetic construction of the Miami Heat. And its not because those fans are simply “drinking hater-ade.” Its because true fans of the game appreciate natural development above truly manufactured assembly.

While the talents of Dwayne Wade, LeBron James and Chris Bosh are as undeniable as the sun rising in the East, the ersatz teaming of the trio is just as contrarily conspicuous as is evident the display their elite skill.

They are roundly rooted against, and rightfully so.  Every unbiased eye wants to see the prognosticator who has the nerve to suppose instant gratification while holding a stacked deck, bust out in the end.

When the Heat are compared to great teams who featured great superstars of years past, the incontrovertible fact remains that the level that the Heat have hyped in plastic has never been seen before.  Call it a factor of today’s free-agency culture if you so choose.  To do so is a cop out on the real underlying themes and bona-fide idiosyncrasies of all-time great winners.

The everlasting royalty of champions that have endured similar burdens all share one abiding trait – losing at the pinnacle didn’t make them look instantly for alternate ways around the obstacle.  They stayed steadfast, and ultimately in the end, reaped the benefits.  This is something LeBron James will never have the opportunity to experience, by his own discretion, due to the decided departure from his native franchise, in which he transparently, hastily and prematurely decreed could never become a winner.

This is the result of his “decision.”  A now artificial attempt by his own naive decree.

The prime example of this true winners dynamic is the plight of Jerry West.  After being unceasingly beaten by Boston and even New York, year after year, in seven straight attempts at an NBA crown, did he strive to team up with the Celtics or the Knicks at any point therein?  No.

That was the last thing a true champion like West ever considered.  On his eight try he finally made good on his crusade, which in his own words, eventually made it all worth it.  And I’m quite sure it truly did.

This is what true champions do.  They don’t relinquish to become some sort of Robin on a team that already has a Batman, they instead, endure, endlessly, and live with the results, without the expense of selling out.

The supposed “best player in the NBA” has never been obtained before through free-agency, in accompaniment with another top 10 NBA player through the same avenues, to already join a team that features a top 3 NBA supernova.  All other great champions past have accrued, wait, there’s that word again, organically.

There is no precedence that can be sited that equals the lengths the Heat have grasped in their effort to fabricate a champion.  The level at which they have reached to tops them all.  This is precisely why fans defy them, and this fact needs to ultimately be recognized and realized, whether you can see through the “modern, free-agency world” smokescreen or not.  It is abundantly evident, staring all in denial square in the face.

All this being considered, there are still fans who want to load their salad with packaged and commercialized ingredients, who’s only purpose is for the sake of getting over on the system at the expense of the authentic element.

I’ll always pay more to have something brought to my plate that was grown and cultured and tended over time – not pay less for something that was thrown together in short-cutting imitation for a cheap bite.

Take it back to the chef.  Thanks.  Check, please.

For a kid growing up in the 80’s, the Lakers dominance was a right of passage. In 1987, I was six years old and I have real memories of the moment when Magic sunk his sky-hook against the Celtics. The Lakers made eight out of ten NBA Finals in the 80’s and won five. Hearing Chick Hearn calling Magic’s sky-hook still gives me the chills.

In 1989, at the age of 8, I watched the Lakers’ last title for a while. After making the Finals in 1991, the franchise lost their superstar and fell on some hard times. Names like Magic, Kareem, and Big Game James were replaced by guys named VanExel, Sedale, Vlade, and Pig. In 1993-94, they finished 16 games below .500 and didn’t make the playoffs. Even for a 12-year old Lakers fanatic, Vlade’s soft Euro-game, Elden Campbell’s small hands, and James Edwards’ fade-away post moves didn’t cut it. VanExel was too young, Sedale too old, and even then George Lynch annoyed me.

While the Lakers continued to improve both in talent and in their record, the remainder of the pre-Shaq era was largely filled with end-of-season frustration and the realization that the Western Conference was completely inferior and that the Lakers were even inferior within the Western Conference.

In one offseason, Shaq’s decision to sign with the Lakers changed everything. No longer did Lakers fans have to deal with the frustration of a 7-foot center who was reluctant to dunk. Shaq’s game was everything that the Lakers seemed to need and more. More importantly, Shaq gave the Lakers a headliner they had been missing in the years since Magic retired. In a star-studded city like Los Angeles, don’t underestimate the impact of a headliner.

Despite losses to the Jazz in the playoffs and frustrating finishes to season, watching Shaq was ALWAYS a treat. As a fan, you always felt like you might see a feat of athletic dominance that you’d never seen before. The Diesel was “bigger, stronger, and faster” personified.

It took patience to wait for Phil Jackson to move to Los Angeles and for Kobe Bryant to mature enough to provide the second punch in the Lakers’ attack. But while we waited for the team to mature, Shaq provided mammoth dunk after mammoth dunk.

During the 1999-2000 season, Shaq took both his game and his showmanship to another level. In the new Staples Center — the entertainment crown jewel of Los Angeles — fans were serenaded with the theme from Superman whenever their own “Superman” established his dominance over an opponent.

The Lakers won the title in 2000 and the next two after that. His amazing ability on the court was sealed.

But I will remember other things most about Shaq and his time in Los Angeles.

I will remember not answering the questions asked by someone like Craig Saeger or John Ireland, but rather answer whatever question he felt like answering.

Sideline guy: “Shaq, you scored 37 points and pulled down 22 rebounds. Was the game plan to get the ball into you early?”

Shaq: “My teammates were really great tonight, I love this city and we are all excited to get this win on the road.”

Genius.

I’ll remember Shaq’s glossing himself “The Big Aristotle” after some deep conversations with and study under the Zen Master.

I’ll remember his story about how Phil Jackson made him swim out into a lake to help him with a chore when he went to visit Jackson in Montana after Jackson committed to the Lakers. Whether it happened or not, it was a great story and vintage Shaq showmanship.

I’ll always remember conversations with my college roommate, Kurt, about how his teammates were the stupidest people alive if they didn’t throw the ball into Shaq in the post on every possession. He was that dominant.

Most of all, I’ll probably remember some of Shaq’s quotes about being allowed to be abused in the post.

Many of them are chronicled here at http://shaqquotes.com .

Some of my favorites are:

“Keep in mind, I’m not allowed to be tough. I’m tamed.” Shaq had to take abuse all game, every game, and not strike back. His self-awareness of the fact that he was “tamed” is an interesting observation. For those who question how hard he tried or how much he cared, you should also question what kind of madness may have happened to other people on the court had he cared a little more or acted out on what were surely his desires to get all the Matt Geigers of the world back for inflicting constant physical harm upon him.

“You guys make the rules up, so a foul is a foul.  It doesn’t matter if a guy is bigger and stronger. It’s not my fault I ate my Frosted Flakes when I was little, and you ate Wheaties.”

Shaq gave Barkley-level quotes while being likeable during his playing days. He had what was arguably the most dominant 5 year stretch a player could have. He went away from Los Angeles and while he was bitter, he had built up so much good will, that it was still hard to dislike him as an overweight and bitter also-ran who was run out of town. As a Lakers fan, I was truly happy for him when he won another title.

Despite an injury-plagued end to his career, Shaq even made the Celtics more likable this year. His impact on the game will be measured against Bird, Magic, Jordan, Chamberlain, Robertson, West, Erving, and Jabbar. At a time when everyone complained about a Jordan-less league Shaq was the main attraction, carrying the weight of David Stern’s post-Jordan bitterness on his broad shoulders with ease. His presence will be missed on the court.

His retirement, however, opens up an opportunity for the greatest pre/post game show in NBA history. I can’t watch those games, but I would probably tune in to see Shaq, Charles, Kenny, and EJ on a pre-game, halftime, or post-game show. Can you dig it?

Watching Sir’ Dirk diggler his way between double teams then drop the off-foot fade away, with feathered bangs haunting his brow is like hot chocolate with a bust of hand-whipped cream lapping at the tongue…sizzle sizzle and more busty sizzle.

My nizzle.

Fans swore off of Dirk after his Mavs famous meltdown in 06′ and 07′; said he was overrated, couldn’t hit the big shot, seven feet but soft as butter, a lanky vanilla–sweet but melts with contact.

Well not so fast.

In the meantime Nowitski has collected an MVP, eclipsed twenty thousand career points,and freeze framed his Shaggy Doobie Do face in the list of all-time greats. Dirk’s freakazoid bar, with his insante giftedness to dribble like a point, hit the fade away like a guard, rebound as a forward and finish inside is Lady Gaga unparalleled.

Did I just say Lady Gaga unparalleled?  I did because Dirk is the the greatest powerforward to ever play this game.

Yes you heard me. My condolences to Timmy Duncan, but today I am writing with a blasphemous resignation to the truth of things. I have post stamped this through the mailman, and asked his caddy Sir Charles, to verify its arrival. Dirk is not only the greatest powerforward, but when it comes to closers is listed as: MJ….Bird…..West…..Kobe….Dirk.

Monday’s performance was one of the greatest this league has ever seen. Dropping 48 on OKC in game one of the Western Conference Finals, he did it in Gaga fashion: 12-15 shooting, 24-24 from the free throw line, hitting clutch jumpers late to close out the Thunder in the fourth quarter. Setting the tone from the get go, Dirk started 4-4 with the Mavs first ten points, and twenty in the first half. It was obvious  that this Sir’ Dirk is no longer living under the devils of his past.

OKC looked stupefied in his wakes and had no answer for him all evening, throwing seven different defenders his way including: former Defensive Player of the Year Thabo Sefalosha, and block king Serge Ibaka. His unguardable abilities and size caused former NBA coach turned ESPN TV personality Jeff Van Gundy, to continualy pose the X and O question, “How do you stop that?” His sidekick, former point guard Mark Jackson returned, “You got to close the air space.”

Air space?

This is not about some make believe air space, this is about fate. As much as I love the twenty-three year old Durant–a two time scoring champ, and gifted 6’10 wingman with the ability to hit the three, take you off dribble, and get up and finish, I am aware that his moment has not arrived yet.

It was obvious Monday who the better team is. This is not your usual lay-down and die Dallas Mavs team who’ve become more of a hard-nosed defensive squad with their yet classic art of tres droplet supremes. Key moments on Monday included: Barrea sparking Dallas with twelve straight points in the third, and Jason Kidd bringing stability at point when Darantula made it a game scoring Jasseven of his teams ten points in a 10-0 run in the fourth to pull to within five with 3:34 to play. Like a black widow spider dangling from a single thread, only to lose her luscious prey a few inches from her triangular grasp, that is as close as things would get. This year there is no hesitation from the Mavs–a collective of cast-aways, bridging their way to title ascension.

And with a German juggernaut like Dirk taking them there, it bids the question, “will this finally be their year?”