D12's Future: Zo, the Fro or Something Else?

So what exactly is the takeaway story from last night's Laker win? LA goes up 3-1, but really, who is so surprised? Kobe looking tired, less capable than usual of one of his fire-of-hell rebound games? The point guard jumble for Orlando, which to me feels less like a team with two solid PG's and more like the schizophrenia of a QB platoon?

No, I think it has to be Dwight Howard's line. Forget about all the excessive, pinpoint analysis we've been doing of where Howard needs the ball, what moves he lacks, or how dumb it is that he always dribbles in the paint. Look at the numbers: In 49 minutes, Howard shot 5 for 12 from the floor and 6 for 14 from the line. That was good for 16 points, a decent number. But more importantly, dude had 21 boards and a Finals record nine blocks. Seven turnovers, too, but let's gloss over that one. It's that damn dribbling.

This is the kind of line you expect the reigning Defensive Player of the Year to have. But throughout these playoffs, we've been force-fed the notion that Howard either needs to, is about to, or already has improved his offensive game. Why? Because Orlando's superstar has been cast a worthy successor not only to Shaquille O'Neal, but to the entire big man tradition. This, we're told, is what legit centers will look like in the future.

The only problem is, between Howard's offensive hiccups and free throw woes, he's still limited offensively. There are ways to make him more effective, and yes, his truly ungodly size/strength/athleticism combo can sometimes count for an automatic two. Just as often, though, you're likely to get a misfire, panicky lunge, or—worst of all—a trip to the line.

While there are games where Howard piles up points, they depend largely on opportunism. And yet he's not quite a committed garbagemen, since for some reason Dwight doesn't exactly have that Moses Malone (or even Shawn Marion) insistence on going right back up after a rebound.

What if Howard isn't the rightful heir to Shaquille O'Neal and mentor Patrick Ewing—the sleeker, faster, 21st century model of a classic—but a bigger version of some lesser, but no less important players? Look at that line: It's vintage Ben Wallace, when he was a one-man wrecking crew on defense who pretty much guarded the entire opposing frontcourt. And while his numbers went down slightly once Sheed came to town in 2003-04, the per-game averages remained respectable up through the end of his time in Detroit.

That's not meant as a knock on Howard, more an insinuation that we should recognize those ridiculous Wallace campaigns as truly historic seasons. If basketball cognoscenti have elevated Dennis Rodman to a near-HOF level, then shouldn't Ben Wallace receive similar respect? And, taking this even further, would it be such a disappointment if Dwight Howard turned out to be a bigger, badder Ben Wallace, rather than the Prius of true centers? If anything, Howard's relative lack of versatility on defense makes me think that he has a ways to go before he even reaches Wallace's former stature; he may never have that kind of on-ball ability or nose for general disruption.

Maybe it's better we look to models like Alonzo Mourning or Nate Thurmond, hard-working intimidators who controlled the paint for contenders despite never really mastering the scoring part of things. And as the game changes, maybe Howard is the new model for the center precisely because he specializes at things that only big men can do—as opposed to, say, scoring or serving as the focal point of a system. Does this make Howard near-legendary, like everyone wants him to be already? No, but it certainly clarifies his usefulness.

But I'll tell you what, if he could succeed in using his considerable physical gifts—gifts that are light years ahead of what Mourning had to work with—to expand his defensive repertoire, he could one day live up to the example of Ben Wallace in his prime. It would take work, and time that could be devoted to free throws or trying to figure out that whole offensive thing. On the other hand, imagine Ben Wallace, but bigger. It's a scary thought. Now think about how good Wallace actually was. It gets even scarier.

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