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A couple of good articles for your attention:

A piece by Simmons at Grantland. I don't care what anyone says, I like Grantland and I like the footnotes.

On Tuesday and Wednesday at the Hilton Anatole in Dallas, in a massive conference room that could have doubled as one half of a basketball court, an eclectic group of maybe 40 people convened to determine whether the NBA would play next year. The combined worth in the room was roughly 10 kajillion dollars. There were owners, lawyers, players, league and union officials, and of course, David Stern and Adam Silver, the two men with the most to lose.

You may have noticed this, but the NBA is back. Not since Michael Jordan was coughing up mucus on Ahmad Rashad in Utah has the league been this compelling: personified by its incredible 2011 Finals, currently riding a four-game "Games That Will Be Shown On ESPN Classic" streak. The NBA has more marketable stars than every other American team sport combined. Its three biggest markets (Los Angeles, New York, and Chicago) feature three playoff teams, five of the best 15 players, the reigning MVP (Derrick Rose), one of the 10-best players ever (Kobe Bryant), and the league's most exciting young star (Blake Griffin). Its signature franchise (Miami) has been the single most polarizing American sports team since … since … (wait, has there ever been a more polarizing American sports team?). Even better, the league has gravitated toward an NFL-type model in which fans watch playoff games no matter who's involved, as we found out during the Oklahoma City-Memphis series.

Internationally, the league has never been stronger: It's the only American sports league that attracts stars from every corner of the world. Digitally, the league has been light years ahead of everyone else, embracing the revolution and staying ahead of the curve with social media and video content. It's also spent the past two decades carefully (and successfully) selling mostly black players to a mostly white audience, an ongoing conundrum that nearly submarined the league in the late-'70s and early-'80s. Throw in a killer 2011 Finals and everything looks fantastic on paper … except for the part that the league is losing money.

Unlike the NFL, they opened the books and showed everyone exactly how much: $300 million. Why are they losing money?

1. The economy tanked and fans don't have the same disposable income.
2. The secondary ticket market lessened the need to buy season tickets; you can just cherry-pick 10 regular-season games online and skip the other 31.
3. We're slowly learning that fans would rather stay home, watch sports on their crystal-clear HD widescreen and surf the Internet over hauling their asses to a stadium, then pay for (overpriced) parking, (overpriced) mediocre food and drinks, and (overpriced) mediocre tickets.
4. Every state-of-the-art arena built in the past 15 years was built to accommodate as many fans as possible, when actually we're learning this decade that things might need to shift the other way: You need fewer seats, you need as many good seats as possible, and you need to figure out a way to engage fans who aren't close enough to the court (like the Cowboys did with their obnoxiously brilliant video screen).
5. Typing this sentence makes me feel like I'm typing the words, "Michael Cera just beat up one of the Klitschko Brothers," but it's absolutely true: Billy Hunter beat David Stern on the last two labor deals.
You know how I know this? Because the players made $2.1 billion dollars this year … and again the owners lost $300 million. Hold on, I have their $300 million right here: Vince Carter ($17.5m), Richard Hamilton ($12.5m), Baron Davis ($13m), Jose Calderon ($9m), Gilbert Arenas ($17.7m), Rashard Lewis ($19.6m), Michael Redd ($18.3m), Matt Carroll ($4.3m), Mike Dunleavy ($10.6m), Jason Kapono ($6.6m), Andrei Kirilenko ($17.8m), Marvin Williams ($7.2m), Jared Jeffries ($6.8m), Vlad Radmanovic ($6.8m), Hedo Turkoglu ($10.2m), Boris Diaw ($9m), Marcus Banks ($4.8m), Joel Pryzbilla ($7.4m), TJ Ford (8.5m), Darius Songalia ($4.8m), Andris Biedrins ($9m), Yao Ming ($17.7m), Sam Dalembert ($13.4m), Memo Okur ($9.9m), DeSagana Diop ($6.4m), Jermaine O'Neal ($5.7m), Eddy Curry ($11.2m), Dan Gadzuric ($7.2m), Troy Murphy ($11.9m). Boom! Everyone on that list ranges from "violently overpaid" to "brazenly stole money and hasn't been arrested yet."1

You tell me: Should a professional sports league be stuck in a situation in which T.J. Ford is guaranteed $8.5 million, and Peter Holt (owner of the Spurs, the No. 1 seed in the Western Conference this season) is guaranteed to lose $8.5 million or more? Probably not. They need to fix it. Hunter's team agrees, to a degree: They're fine with shortening long-term contracts (you will never see one longer than four years again), and they're fine with making it more difficult for stars to jump franchises (even if it means abolishing the sign-and-trade rule). They're even fine with giving back a little money, as well as the owners' plan to frame Lewis and Arenas for murders so they can void their contracts.2 It's just about finding middle ground. If the players made $400 million less last season and the owners shared revenue with each other a little better,3 everyone would have made money. On paper, this seems really, really, really, really, really, really simple.

So why is it so hard? Why are we 20 days away from that self-imposed June 30 deadline with no real momentum? Where is the urgency? Why did Derek Fisher, the head of the National Basketball Players Association, decide that his family vacation was more important than a fairly crucial labor meeting in Miami last week?4 And why doesn't anyone realize that the league will absolutely shut things down on July 1 if there's no agreement? This isn't like what's happening in the NFL, where both sides are staring each other down like two assholes fighting over the last Maybach in a Mercedes dealership because they literally can't figure out how to split up the hundreds of millions they're making. The NBA infrastructure is fundamentally flawed right now: Superstars shouldn't be able to hold free agency over their teams' heads like an anvil; frauds like Eddy Curry shouldn't be able to cash eight-figure paychecks for six straight years with no repercussions; and idiotic owners and front offices need to be protected from themselves because teams knew we were heading for a hard salary cap and still splurged for the likes of Channing Frye, Drew Gooden, Josh Childress, and Mike Conley.

It's like a big jigsaw puzzle: You can see all the pieces, they all make sense, but it's impossible to figure out how to assemble them. I am cautiously optimistic only because this is David Stern's last rodeo; it's just seems incomprehensible that the final chapter of his legacy would be, "LOCKED OUT THE PLAYERS, LOST ALL THE MOMENTUM FROM A FANTASTIC SEASON, TURNED FANS AGAINST THE LEAGUE." He wants to set up Adam Silver to succeed in his place; he wants to make sure no franchises fold on his watch (a genuine source of pride for him, a streak that has extended to 27 years); and he doesn't want to be remembered by his owners like NFL owners remember Paul Tagliabue, who sold them out and left money on the table just because he wanted to get one final deal done and get the hell out of there. Stern also cares about the smaller market owners — particularly the Maloofs (he still calls them "the boys"), Peter Holt (the most respected NBA owner, as well as the head of the labor committee), Minnesota's Glen Taylor (the other bigwig on the labor committee), and Michael Jordan (no need to explain) — and wants to make sure they're protected going forward.

An underrated difference between the NBA and NFL: In the NFL, three greedy billionaire megalomaniacs (Bob Kraft, Jerry Richardson, and Jerry Jones) have controlled the owners' side of the labor talks, while Roger Goodell has been exposed as a glorified puppet, a talking Ken doll who plays the media brilliantly but has no real juice at all.5 Any time you have the selfish interests of three people representing 30, you're headed for trouble — especially in a league in which wealthy people buy teams for the same reason that they'd purchase an obscenely lavish yacht. You have to see my new boat, it's fantastic! The NBA works differently; its owners are more interactive, more accountable, more diverse, more available, more hands-on.6 They have more at stake because, unlike the NFL (where the money just pours in), you can never feel safe when you're owning an NBA team … not when the league dramatically ebbs and flows depending on the quality of its superstars, not during this economy, and not when it's becoming more and more unclear why anyone would want to attend more than eight to 10 regular-season games per year unless they had fantastic seats.

The NFL lockout concerns me more because the league's owners haven't put real thought into it. They're just greedy. You can't predict what will happen in a situation when the only motivating factor is greed; it's like trying to predict the weather. The reasons for an NBA lockout (or, the threat of it) feel much more genuine. For instance, let's say you had a son in kindergarten who wasn't reading at the same level as everyone else. That's a problem. But it's a fixable problem. You could read with him every night, find him a tutor, work on him with his letters … as long as he's not dyslexic, the kid will catch up to everyone else, as long as you spend the time.

Now, let's say that you didn't do anything. And let's say your kid is now in the fourth grade, and he still can't read or write very well. That's a real problem. You're going to have to work three times harder to get him up to speed, and only because you blew it by not taking care of it sooner.

That's where the NBA is sitting right now, in the kindergarten stage … and they have to take care of it now. Which is why we will have a lockout if they don't. And look, I hate bringing this up during such an astonishingly compelling Finals, but it's impossible NOT to think about this stuff. Professional basketball, potentially, is one or two games away from disappearing for a while. That's why those games are so important: The more momentum we have, the harder it will be for both sides to walk away on June 30. You never want to leave a hot blackjack table. Ever. Keep the cards coming, keep the drinks coming, keep the run going. It's the only way. You don't leave. And yet that's what they would be doing with a lockout in three weeks.

So as fans, we have more at stake with these last two Finals games than anyone in the series. We need one or two more killer games. We need more momentum, higher ratings, more drama, more everything. The better this goes, the harder it will be for everything to stop. Keep your fingers crossed.

As for the rest of the characters, here's what's at stake:

Jason Terry: After draining the single biggest irrational confidence shot by someone not named Ali Farokhmanesh (Terry's 3 to clinch Game 5 of the Finals), he's climbing up the all-time Irrational Confidence charts and breathing down Vernon Maxwell's neck. Just remember, Mad Max has a ring.

The Miami Welcome Party: We're one Dallas victory away from it becoming permanently funny.

Me & Cousin Sal: We went heavy on Dallas to win in six games (+450). As Sal points out, we are 0-344 in hedging situations. Should we let the wager ride? Should we hedge with Miami to win the series (+120)? Just know that, whatever we decide, it will swing the series in the opposite direction. We have these powers. Just ask our wallets. Speaking of wallets …

Mike Bibby: $6.417 million. That's what he gave up next season to chase a ring this season.

Erik Spoelstra: If they lose, I'd like to sum things up with the words of a rowing Fredo Corleone. Hail Mary, full of grace. Our Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb … (KAPOW!)

Dwyane Wade's "Eff You" 3:7 We're one Dallas win away from that becoming an iconic "don't count your chickens before they hatch" sports moment. You can't do that crap unless you know, with absolute certainty, that the series is over. For instance, Larry Legend iced the '86 Rockets in Game 6 by grabbing a loose ball with the shot clock winding down, dribbling through three people just so he could plant himself in front of Houston's bench, then draining a 3 with his ass in their faces. Game over. That's when you do it. Wade jumped the gun. If they lose, he will never live it down.

Peja Stojakovic: Wait, he's still alive?

Tyson Chandler: Actually, it's already happened win or lose — he's basically turned into 2008 Kevin Garnett but without a jump shot. Along with Dirk Nowitzki, James Harden, Dwyane Wade, and Zack Randolph, he's one of the five biggest winners of the 2011 Playoffs.

Chris Bosh: A decent lock to be traded this summer if Miami blows this series. There will have to be a scapegoat. You know, other than Spoelstra.8

Brian Cardinal: Balding/sweaty/doughy immortality. A role model and idol for a future generation of Haleys and Scalabrines.

Jason Kidd: A much-belated ring, a historical bump (from top 40 to top 35), the memory that he was an extremely rich man's version of what GP gave the 2006 Heat, and also living proof to Rajon Rondo that ANYONE can turn into a deadly 3-point shooter with some work.

Juwan Howard: There's nothing at stake; he already won. A friend of mine e-mailed me last night, "I can't believe Juwan Howard is playing in the Finals right now. I'm glad I taped this game on my Betamax."

Cleveland fans: Maybe they haven't won a title since the 1960s, but what's unfolding in this series is damned close. It's like when beaten-down Boston fans took pride in Ray Bourque winning a Cup in Colorado, only the exact opposite.

ABC & ESPN: Don't tell anyone, but if there's a Game 7, Disney makes an extra $110 billion (all numbers approximate). You might see everyone on Dallas foul out in Game 6. I think Tyson Chandler already has 2 fouls and the game doesn't start for another 48 hours.

Rick Carlisle: If he wins, no more Jim Carrey jokes as well as an overdue ascent to "best game coach alive right now." Nobody controls a game with timeouts better than Carlisle, nobody uses his subs better or more effectively, and few coaches make better adjustments within a series (even simple ones, like moving Dirk's high-post game from the top of the foul line to the left side of the floor, just because it seemed like Miami was getting used to it). He's really, really smart.9

Dwyane Wade: If Miami pulls this off and he's the hero (our most likely scenario), that puts the following things in play historically: (a) "Kobe vs. Wade" becomes an argument; (b) any "clutch Finals players" list has to include him; (c) any "best player alive" argument begins with him first; (d) he has to be mentioned in any list that includes the best 20 players ever from that point forward; and (e) we'll remember him forever as an evil genius who somehow convinced his biggest archrival to move to HIS city, play for HIS team, and become HIS sidekick.

Mark Cuban: Spent the right amount of money, hired the right people, brought in the right players, took the right chances (for the most part), made one tremendous decision (taking on Tyson Chandler's contract),10 and most importantly, kept a low profile and let his players do the talking for him. You can't do better as an NBA owner than Cuban did these past few months. Except for the part when he shot 3s while wearing a tank top before Game 4. Just a little Richard Simmons-y. Just a smidge.

Pat Riley: He's already a winner: What he pulled off last summer means he influenced the Finals in four different decades, something only Red Auerbach can say. (And he's dead.) Don't be surprised if, behind the scenes, Mr. Riley becomes a little more involved heading into these last two games. Miami needs to get a little bit tougher … and nobody knows how to motivate quite like Pat Riley.

Dirk Nowitzki: He's already propelled himself into the top 20 and a permanent "Barkley, Malone or Nowitzki?" discussion; he's erased any lingering scars from the 2006 Finals and 2007 Playoffs; and he's clinched "one of the best clutch scorers of his generation" status. But if he wins the title with a bunch of role players? That nudges him up a level; now we'd have to discuss him with Julius Erving, Bob Pettit, John Havlicek, and maybe even Tim Duncan as one of the Greatest Forwards Ever Not Named Larry Bird. However it plays out, he's already the biggest winner from this series. You can't say enough about Dirk Nowitzki.

German cars: No longer the best thing about Germany. Huge loss for Mercedes, BMW, and Audi.

LeBron James: You know, just the run-of-the-mill stuff … like his legacy as a player. I watched him pretty closely in Game 5 from my seat: He doesn't seem comfortable, as if he lost his identity as a basketball player to some degree.11 Is it possible that he's so talented that he never ended up concentrating on one great thing? He never developed a go-to gimmick like Dirk's high-post game, Wade's one-on-one game, Kobe's one-on-one game, Duncan's low-post game … he's like one of those fancy diners that has a six-page menu loaded with options, only when you ask the waitress what's good, she says, "I don't know, everything!" But wait … I asked you what's good.

When his erratic 3-pointer was falling against Boston and Chicago, it made him seem unstoppable. Now it's gone again. What's left? He's doing a tremendous Scottie Pippen impersonation, right down to his numbers every game … and I'll let that sentence speak for itself. What's really shocked me: LeBron's inability to adjust to however these high-pressure games seem to be playing out. When Jordan's shot wasn't falling, he got to the rim. When Bird's shot wasn't falling, he went down low and crashed the boards. Magic learned to morph into whatever his team needed from him: He could run fast breaks, go down low, get Worthy going, feed Kareem, whatever; he always made the right decision. LeBron? It's like he can't figure it out. There's never a Plan B for him.

Dallas made a key adjustment in Game 4, sticking Shawn Marion on Wade and Kidd on LeBron — with the implication being, "We can do this because LeBron won't make us pay by taking Kidd down low and torching him" — and it worked like a charm. In the fourth quarter of Game 4, they mixed it up by throwing a zone at Miami, hoping LeBron would get confused, stand around, avoid long 3s, and stop moving. That worked, too. To repeat: The Mavericks built their defensive strategy around LeBron's limitations and predictabilities. Not a good sign for someone currently finishing his eighth season. What's at stake for LeBron? He already lost. The emperor has no clothes. He needs to unleash two of the most phenomenal performances in Finals history — not one, two — to change my mind on that one.

Everyone Who Loves the NBA: We already won. What a series. Too bad we might be three weeks away from losing again.

From Stein:

MIAMI -- Five games into these coin-flip NBA Finals, there's been no shortage of surprises. Everyone surely has their own list.

And here's my top five heading into Sunday night's Game 6:

LeBron and D-Wade have so little respect for the star on the other side
Hopefully you never bought into the quaint notion going into these Finals that this wasn't really a rematch because each team only had two holdovers from their 2006 encounter. Let's clarify something, America: This was always a rematch, no matter how much the rosters have turned over, since it reunited two stars from the respective franchises who've had an icy relationship ever since the Miami comeback/Dallas collapse in '06.

Or have you already forgotten the All-Star Game in 2007 when Dwyane Wade and Dirk Nowitzki were the only two starters on the floor in Las Vegas who didn't even bump fists?

But I was actually gullible enough to believe, as well as I remember D-Wade versus Dirk at full chill, that the way Nowitzki has played this postseason would quash some of the Heat hubris we've seen since July, when they staged their infamous laser-light show to celebrate the signings of LeBron James and Chris Bosh as a championship unto itself.

I was foolish enough to think, after a season of ill-conceived statements blowing up in their faces, that Wade and James wouldn't invite more of America's bile by doing something like mocking Nowitzki's recent sinus infection with news cameras rolling with every word and step after they finished up their shootaround.

Wrong and wrong.

You can bet that Wade and James will try to spin this as an episode of misunderstood humor -- another example of how they get no leeway from a voracious and biased national media monster that the Miami Herald's Dan LeBatard brilliantly dubbed an All You Can Heat frenzy -- but they'll deserve every ounce of the flak they get this time. They crossed a line with disrespect so flip and blatant.

Especially Wade.

His own rep for inflating/creating drama is such that folks all over American Airlines Center on Thursday night, in the stands and on press row, were questioning how badly that left hip was hurting in Game 5 ... even when Wade actually left the court twice for treatment. It makes no sense that Wade would fake an injury that cost him a huge chunk of game time ... but it makes far, far less for a peer of Wade's stature, as opposed to outside observers, to look straight into the lens and accuse Nowitzki of staging the wheezing misery that was broadcast worldwide in Game 4.

Given the chance to respond Friday night after the Mavericks landed in Miami, Nowitzki declined comment when reached by ESPN.com.

The safest prediction you can make in this impossibly hard-to-call series is that Dirk and D-Wade and LeBron are about to be besieged with questions on the subject at Saturday's media availabilities, now that the tension that has always lingered beneath the surface with these teams has been fully (and foolishly) rekindled for everyone to see.

Dirk 26, LeBron 0
It's true even if you're in the minority, like me, who thinks LeBron isn't getting enough slack for what the minutes he's logging and ground he's covering defensively are doing to his gas tank.

It's still stunning, making all those allowances, to see the disparity between Nowitzki's end-game production and what James isn't doing in the final five minutes of games.

Stunning.

In what NBA statisticians recognize as "clutch time," which equates to the final five minutes of regulation or overtime with the score within five points either way, Nowitzki has 26 points on 8-for-13 shooting from the field and 9-for-9 accuracy at the line.

LeBron? After leading the league in this category through the first three rounds of the playoffs and finally chipping away at the skepticism about his ability to close, James has zero points on 0-for-7 shooting and is still waiting for his first "clutch time" trip to the line. Udonis Haslem (17) has scored more fourth-quarter points in the Finals than James (11), with Nowitzki out of sight at 52 and counting.

I repeat: I'm inclined to cut him more slack than most for the load he's carrying, minutes-wise (LeBron again played the entire second half in Game 5), and the way Dallas' peerless ball movement has James moving East-to-West as the Mavs hoped. Until it hits you, again, that Nowitzki doesn't have a Wade or Bosh to share the burden with at closing time.

There isn't a superstar in the league who carries a larger load offensively than Dirk, who's second-best teammate is, well, after 110 games this season we're still not sure. As ESPN's own Jeff Van Gundy told my man Howard Beck of the New York Times of the way Nowitzki is outnumbered: "How many times has the star power been stacked so much in one team's stable?"

So there's no way the gap should be this wide, even accounting for the world's growing appreciation of Dirk's unquestioned clutchness.

Fatigue works to only a degree as a James alibi. Since Game 1, when the smoothness of his 3-point stroke had me salivating, LeBron is 3-for-18 on 3s and looking shakier with every jumper. His confidence to launch or drive has clearly been sapped, with only two games, at most, left on the schedule to find it.

Miami hasn't been toeing the line this time
Jittery Mavs fans who still have nightmares about the 97 trips to the line that Dwyane Wade made in the '06 Finals were undoubtedly fearing another free-throw parade five years later. Especially since this incarnation of the Heat, at least in theory, has two rim-attacking stars now.

Yet it's actually Dallas and Dirk, five games in, that hold the aggression and free-throw edge. Which obviously makes it far, far easier for Mavs owner Mark Cuban to maintain his vow of media silence that began in earnest during Dallas' second-round sweep of the Los Angeles Lakers.

The Mavs, in these Finals, have shot 137 free throws entering Game 6 to Miami's 115. Nowitzki has shot a series-high 44 -- draining 43 -- compared to Wade's 42 attempts.

In 2006, Wade shot 46 free throws alone in the final two games of that series, but he's generally finishing plays in this reunion with the Mavs -- and shooting a heady 58 percent from the floor -- more than he's looking for bailouts. And when Game 5 was starting to have an '06 feel, with Wade racking up six quick free-throw attempts in the opening quarter, everything changed after Wade's collision with Brian Cardinal. The resulting left hip contusion required two trips to the locker room for treatment and seemed to rob Wade of his usual slashing prowess.

Eventually, though, as with most of the series storylines, we end up focused on LeBron and what's not happening for him. Through five games, James has earned a whopping 16 trips to the line, which computes to a measly 3.2 per game. He shot 8.8 free throws per game in the Eastern Conference finals against Chicago, but that James was turning corners with conviction and trying to get to the bucket. By mixing up its pick-and-roll blitzing and sagging zones, Dallas has discouraged James from driving in spite of all his between-games promises to attack.

Costly stuff in a series where the Mavs' margin of victory in their three wins in 4.7 points. The Heat have held a led inside six minutes in all three of those losses, but Dallas has outscored Miami by a tidy 65-41 in the final five minutes of fourth quarters.

The success of the Dallas D
The culture-changing impact and defensive improvement triggered by Tyson Chandler's arrival in Dallas has been well-chronicled. But the Mavs' resistance has gone to another level, intensity-wise, in this series, which might be the biggest reason besides Nowitzki's brilliance that Dallas has a 3-2 lead.

You've heard Nowitzki, even in victory, describe the Heat's collective length, footspeed and athleticism as the most troublesome he's ever coped with in the playoffs when it comes to double teams and fast closeouts on open shooters. But Dirk and Co. have risen to that challenge by countering Miami's D with some pretty stout stuff of their own.

The Mavs rely on a man-to-man scheme, orchestrated by lead assistant coach Dwane Casey, that requires quick and precise help to counter their age and corresponding lack of quickness. Yet it's a man-to-man scheme that allows for easy switching to a zone, which helps keep the Heat guessing.

Other key factors include Nowitzki's improvement as a team defender and signal-caller responsible for calling out what play the opposition is running, along with the scrappiness supplied by charge-takers like DeShawn Stevenson and Brian Cardinal.

But Chandler's presence and passion are the keys, as well as his crucial ability to avoid foul trouble for much of the series to lessen the impact of Brendan Haywood's hip injury.

Strong individual work from Shawn Marion and Jason Kidd completes the puzzle. As they did in the Western Conference finals, taking turns on Kevin Durant and Russell Westbrook, Marion and Kidd switch back and forth on Wade and James, constantly changing the looks they're getting from a team that has changed its identity.

The knock on the Mavericks of old, for much of Nowitzki's career, focused on their inability to get stops when they needed them. In these Finals, when Miami has put the clamps on the league's No. 1-ranked team in offensive efficiency this postseason, Dallas was still able to dig out wins in Game 2 and Game 4 when the ball wasn't going down like it did in Game 5.

Frequent references to the "Basketball Gods"
I realize that this is more of an interview-podium surprise that might have escaped even the most hard-core Finals consumers, but I've found it interesting, after Game 4 and Game 5, to hear both Wade and Mavs coach Rick Carlisle make a "basketball gods" reference, proving that it's not just us media types who spout this stuff.

Wade, after a crucial free throw in the final minute of Game 4 bounced in and out: "The basketball gods just had other plans."

Carlisle, after the Mavs had about four high-arching prayers from behind the 3-point line -- from a variety of shooters including Jason Terry, J.J. Barea and Nowitzki -- answered in Game 5: "Look, we threw in some difficult shots. But when you play as hard as we've been playing, the basketball gods tend to be kinder to you."

Confession time: I'm struggling these days to give any credence to the notion of hoops-focused higher powers when the prospect of a lockout in two weeks looms over one of the best Finals that I've ever attended and threatens to shut down the league when it's in its healthiest state since Michael Jordan retired.

Yet I suppose we can all be thankful, at the very least, that we're getting a really good show in the dreaded event this is the last NBA basketball we're going to see for a while.