Welcome to another wonderful installment in the web's best NBA team previews. So magical that you will be filled with wonder and astonishment and a magical sense of the magically magic. To check out all the entries in the series, you can click here.
Today, we will be discussing the Portland Trail Blazers, a bright young team with lots of great players, at least one star, and a perennial reputation for being an under-the-radar dark horse. The Portland Trail Blazers are the answer to the question, "How can you be a sleeper if no one is sleeping on you?"
Team I Admire More Than I Like
What I Like
Brandon Roy is the best-kept secret in the NBA who isn't really a secret at all, but who, due to secret media and basketblog edicts must be referred to as some sort of secret or underground figure in every mention of his greatness. The man is a machine, a legitimate superstar, the number one scoring option on a perennial play-off team. Somehow, this is supposedly secret. Brandon Roy is a great player, but let's stop pretending like he's a secret that squares don't know about. I just don't get it: Is it a Portland thing?
Oh also, he's a really swell guy who his teammates deeply admire: "That's a player, that's a team player. That's somebody that I want to go to battle with."
I enjoy Rudy Fernandez, Greg Oden, and Travis Outlaw because if I were writing a movie about basketball and had to come up with punchy names for the talented supporting role players, these are exactly the names I would use. They would also look precisely how they already do, especially Oden.
What I Don't Like
I'd like you to consider some names and think about how they make you feel: Steve Blake. Andre Miller. Joel Pryzbilla. LaMarcus Aldridge. Nicolas Batum.
Okay, so now some self-examination: how do you feel? You feel nothing? You feel numb and empty and devoid of any trace or semblance of feeling? You feel an existential terror at the nothingness that these names evoke? You feel a creeping, persistent, and pernicious ennui? A boredom so deep as to make you wonder if you will ever feel the same now that you have tasted the blankess of the void, a scarring feeling that makes your happiness seem less full, your love for all other things tainted with the cynicism of having felt literally, absolutely nothing? Right. Me too.
In short, a lot of the Trail Blazers leave me so cold, they make me feel dead inside.
The topic at hand is Andre Miller. In light of this numb, hopeless feeling that is feeling my buddy I will direct you to the words of noted Andre Miller expert, Trey Kerby:
1)Some facts about Andre Miller, the most boring player in the NBA.
2) An excerpt from Trey's book. Specifically, a biography about Andre Miller.
God, I feel so cold.
And lo, in the prophecies of our fathers, this was writ of Oden:
"Brandon Roy holds the Gjallarhorn into the air and blows deeply into it, and Oden converses with Olajuwon's head. The world tree, Dikembe Mutombo shudders and groans. The jötunn, Dwight Howard, comes from the east, his shield before him. The Cleavland serpent, Shaquille O'Neal, furiously writhes, causing waves to crash. The Hawks shriek, pale-beaked they tear the corpse of Steve Nash and the ship Naglfar breaks free and sets sail from the east, which Kevin Garnett steers. The fire jötnar inhabitants of Miami come forth. Dwyane Wade advances from the south, his bright sword shining. Lebron James walks the road to Hel and heavens split apart. The gods then do battle with the invaders: Oden dies fighting the wolf, Al Jefferson, causing his wife Frigg her second great sorrow (the first being the death of her son, the god Baldr)."
Oh, Greg Oden! I get confused because of his penchant for always walking around with a raven on each shoulder. Odd, that. Well... Greg Oden will probably get a bunch of double-doubles. All the other stuff is true though.
Cheer on Brandon Roy and his supporting cast of skillful and well-named friends as they publicly and plainly "toil in obscurity." Get a Rasheed Wallace Trail Blazers jersey because those things are badass.