In the 2007-08 NBA season, the Denver Nuggets finished 50-32, good enough for the 8th seed in the Western Conference.  Their post-season didn't last very long, as they were swept by the Los Angeles Lakers in the first round.  In the 2008-09 campaign they improved to 54-28 and won two playoff series in impressive fashion before succumbing to the Lakers in six games of the Western Conference Finals.

I want to show the shrewd steps they took to remake an underachieving team in an off-season where they had no draft picks, star players with declining trade value, and a bloated $87 million payroll.

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I want to add a little perspective about the worth of NBA free agents.  This isn't a catch-all scientific analysis of the value of free agency, I just want to reflect on the bigger signings from last year's off-season and the results the teams reaped from their investments.

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Now that the evil empire has all but assured another championship notch in it's bed post(season) and the sharp pain of the Blazer's playoff demise has dulled to a slow throb, it's time for a little perpective and reflection.

The moment our beloved Blazers locked in the fourth seed, I looked at our bracket and saw what I believed at the time to be the hardest route to the championship we (I use "we" when I talk about the Blazers because I am a loser) could have possibly drawn.  When the Houston Rockets beat us in six, I lost sight of that.  I hit the panic button.

THE SKY IS FALLING!  We need two new point guards (Deron Williams and Chris Paul), a mentor for Oden (the Big Shaqtus), a lock-down wing defender (Scottie Pippen circa 1994), and some tomahawk missiles for Blazer One. 

THE SKY IS FALLING!  There's no way Nate is a championship-caliber coach; it's time for KP to hire a necromancer to revive Knute Rokne's corpse and have it replace Coach Mac. 

THE SKY IS FALLING!  The city of Portland deserves better announcers than the two Mikes; we need someone with eloquence and a high basketball IQ, why don't we get Barack Obama?  (I made a Mike Barrett+Mike Rice+two second round picks for Barack Obama work on the ESPN trade machine.  The salaries match, get it done KP!)

THE SKY IS FALLING!  Lebron James is going to win the next 15 championships.  He's already won zero in a row!

And then... the rest of the playoffs unfolded.  The Rockets take the L*kers to seven games, even though Yao missed half the series (if only my voodoo doll would have worked 5 games faster).   The L*kers beat Denver in six.  The L*kers up 3-1 in the finals.  The stupid, &^#%ing L*kers are about to win a championship and so far the only team that has tested them is the same team that eliminated the Blazers!

Well gee, it appears that the Blazers were indeed in the toughest bracket in the toughest conference in professional basketball.  Maybe there's some reason for optimism.  The soon-to-be champs don't match up that well against us.  They haven't won at the Rose Garden since the Eisenhower administration.  The only team that took the L*kers to the brink of elimination beat us by less than 3 points in two of their victories WITH their starting center.  And the biggest reason for optimism of all: this team, as is, hasn't come close to reaching it's potential.

I think it's time to moth-ball the daily trade requests.  Put the "Steve Blake sucks" rants on ice (I'm not naming names, but I'm thinking in Ben's general direction).  Remove "toughness" from your Blazer lexicon (again I'm not naming Fatty's name).

Let's sit back and enjoy an off-season where we all have only a cursory interest in the upcoming draft.  Then, let's sit back even further and enjoy watching Bayless bend the rim with the power of his mind during summer league.  After that, it's time to lie down, take a nap, and hibernate 'til pre-season.

Until then, make mine BlazersEdge!

The final horn has sounded.  The last-second desperation heave from three-quarter-court harmlessly bounces twelve feet from it's intended target.  The game is over.  Your team has lost.

At some point in their lives, fans of every NBA franchise will lose something near and dear to them: a playoff game.  To help those of you that do not understand their grief, I've outlined the five stages they go through to cope.

STAGE ONE: BLAME THE REFEREES

Blaming the referees is the only permanent stage of grief.  An imagined slight by an official can cause a wound so deep it never heals.  The pain caused becomes unresolved emotional baggage resulting in episodes of schizophrenic paranoia.  Subjects will claim to have "evidence" of a vast NBA-wide conspiracy (involving David Stern, network executives, the Premier of China, and the Illuminati chapter of the Freemason Society) to fix the outcomes of NBA games.

Referee Paranoia is uncurable.  Once you notice symptoms, it's already too late.  The damage has been done.  The condition is permanent and can only get worse.  In some extreme cases of Referee Paranoia, subjects become so despondent they quit watching professional basketball altogether, even going so far as to compare it to the WWE.

If you notice a friend or loved one complaining about NBA officials at local taverns or internet fansites, contact a doctor immediately.  You need to invest in a set of prescription ear plugs.

STAGE TWO: FIRE THE COACH

The second stage of grief focuses the blame away from outside forces and onto the other perceived cause for the loss: the head coach.  Individuals in this stage of grief believe the local team needs to be the opposite of what it is now.  If it's a slow-paced team, they should focus on fast-breaking more often; if their offensive-oriented, they should become defensive-oriented.  They believe the only way to address these issues is to fire the coach.

This stage is treatable, but only by firing the coach.  Once treated, the grief is resolved until the next playoff loss when the individual goes through a similar stage of grief called "Fire the GM".

STAGE THREE: TRADE THE PLAYERS

This is another delusional stage of grief where the individual believes that an opposing team will accept a combination of bench-players and second round picks for their franchise's go-to guy.  In certain situations, such as a trade with Kevin McHale, these delusions can turn into an extended period of euphoria.

Behavior during this stage consists of four-hours stints on ESPN's trade machine, posting hypothetical trade scenario blogs on internet fansites, and managing over three fantasy baskeball teams.

STAGE FOUR: DRAFT SAVIOR

During the fourth stage, the individual becomes convinced that the solution to the playoff loss is a can't-miss sleeper, easily obtained late in the draft, who predictably went to their alma mater.

STAGE FIVE: THERE'S ALWAYS NEXT YEAR

In the final stage, the individual analyzes his teams deficiencies and makes excuses for why it will be different next year.  Often times the perceived solutions are a new player, coach, or draft pick obtained during the off-season, though that's not always the case.  Sometimes it can be explained-away as the team having time to "gel" or the "re-dedication" of on oft-troubled and lazy star.

The individual believes that next season his team will be an invincible juggernaut, only able to be stopped by crooked referees.

UNDERSTANDING

Please help raise awareness about how to deal with playoff grief by reccomending this blog as early and often as you can.  Blazer fans will need to know these stages to help better understand the Rockets fans' behavior after they lose game seven.

GO BLAZERS!

His father, Rocky Dennis.

His mother, the chick from Creed.

GO BLAZERS!

In all seriousness, I have really enjoyed the respectful back and forth our two sites have been able to partake in since this series started. 

My heart goes out to Dikembe Mutombo.  I was glad he got a standing-O from the Rose Garden crowd.  I've loved his game since his M & M days with Alonzo Mourning at Georgetown. 

Speaking of which, a buddy of mine, JJ, went to university there at the same time as Mutombo.  Dikembe didn't have full command of the English language at that time and when JJ saw him go into a D.C. bar to hit on ladies the only pickup line he could muster was, "Who wants to sex Mutombo?".

After last night's game I want to sex B. Roy.

PeaceLoveAndHappiness,

BlazerTag

There's radiation burns on my retinas from staring at the warm glow of the laptop screen as it beams up-to-the-nanosecond NBA rumor updates against the pale flesh of my ashen face.  It's three in the morning and I can't remember when I last slept.  What day is it, again?

My full bladder aches for evacuation.  But... I... must... hold... on...  I can't just get up and leave now, there's too much at stake.  I know the second I get up there will be a brand-new post about how disgruntled Charlie Villanueva is in Scott Skiles's system, or how some sports hack in Philly called-out Samuel Dalembert in his latest column.  Sure, I can read it after I return from the bathroom, but by that time it's too late.  I'll have missed my opportunity to click the comment button and add "First!".

Wait a minute.  They don't post rumors at three in the morning.  What was I thinking?  No one is up at this hour.  It will be at least eight AM Eastern Standard Time before anything new goes up.  What am I doing?  That's still two hours from now!

Oh well, I'll just kill time at the ESPN trade machine and see what the Blazers can get for Petteri Kopponnen + RLEC.  Devin Harris?  Richard Jefferson and Ramon Sessions?  The ESPN trade machine is a magical place where anything can happen (I once made a Pete Best + Ringo Starr for Paul McCartney + John Lennon deal work).

It wasn't always like this, sure during the off-season maybe, but I've been better since then I swear.  Besides everybody does it then.  We can't help ourselves.  It's all KP's fault.  He's an enabler.  Watching him on draft night swap 2nd round draft picks and cash for a foreigner I've never heard of or flip-flopping first rounders with a mouth-breathing GM (I'm not naming name's, but I'm thinking in Kevin McHale's general direction) gives me the buzz I crave, man. 

It's not like I'm addicted or anything.  I just want a little something to tide me over 'til then.  And another one of these cheapie Taurean Green for Von Wafer deals just ain't gonna cut it.  If the trade involves Shavlik Randolph and Shavlik Randolph only, it doesn't count.  I need a bigger fix than that, man.

Oh crap, maybe I am addicted.  All the signs are there: the poor hygiene, the shakes, and the obsession.  It's all I can think about.  It's even started seeping into my regular life.  Today I tried to trade a Twinkie to the Plaid Pantry clerk for a Reese's peanut-butter cup and a Ho-Ho to be named later.  Sure, the Twinkie was half-eaten, but the Peanut-butter cup might have salmonella.  Doesn't he read the paper?  This was a win-win deal for the both of us. Why didn't he understand?

Oh well, at least I have my support network at Blazersedge.com.  The number of fanposts speculating about what Jason Quick might have been insinuating could very well happen should the Blazers possibly decide that maybe they'll upgrade at certain positions now number in the teens.  This is where I belong.

And it's not just the bonehead readers, commenters, and fanposters who are guilty.  Even that old pro, Dave, made a post about trading for SHAQUILLE 'effin O'NEAL!  DaveDaveDaveDaveDave.  Not you, too!  I never thought this could happen to you.  You're as bad as the rest of us.  Can't you see there's no way it's gonna happen.  Steve Kerr staked his reputation on the Big Aristotle.  There's no turning back!

I think it's high-time I stepped away from the laptop and forged on to the first step.  It's called acceptance.  The reckoning is nigh.  I'll climb to the mountain-top and shout for all the world to hear.

"Hello, my name is BlazerTag and I'm a trade-aholic."

Thanks be to God, Allah, and Buddha that Terry Porter and Bobby Gross FINALLY had their number retired.  I am sick to death watching negligent Trail Blazers management sit idle while our rafters sit bereft of retired jersey numbers of Blazers greats past.

Sure, Bill Walton (#32), Maurice Lucas (#20), Larry Steele (#15), Dave Twardzik (#13), Lloyd Neal (#36), and now Gross (#30) have all had their numbers retired.  But what about the other members of that championship squad?  Isn't it time we recognized the invaluable contributions of Lionel Hollins (#14), Herm Gilliam (#3), Johnny Davis (#16), Robin Jones (#34), Wally Walker (#42), and Corky Calhoun (#10)?  Where's the outrage?

And what about all the all-stars we've had in the past?  Sidney Wicks (#21) isn't up there.  Either are Kermit Washington (#42), Jim Paxson (#4), Kevin Duckworth (#00), Cliff Robinson (#3), or Rasheed Wallace (#30).  All of them were All-stars.  Shouldn't their numbers be retired?

Come to think of it, Brandon Roy (#7) was an all-star, too.  Why wait until he's retired to retire his jersey number?  I don't want anyone else wearing his number while he's still in the league.  Maybe we should just hang Brandon in the rafters and lower him down during a fireworks display at the pregame introductions.  It would be like the start of a WWF match (the games are already officiated like one).

And what about Scottie Pippen(#33)?  He is a 6-time NBA champion and one of the fifty greatest players of all-time!  And Shareef Abdur-Rahim (#3), Steve Smith (#8), Shawn Kemp (#40), Dale Davis (#34), Walter Davis (#6), and Detlef Schrempf (#12) were all all-stars.  Who cares if it was with other teams.

Every single number should be retired until the only available jerseys are pi, thirty-twelve, absolute zero, infinity, and negative two.  Then we should retire those numbers, too.  We'll have the only team that has triple digit jersey numbers.  The rafters will be so clogged with banners that the fire marshall will have to shut down the Rose Garden.  Then it will be time to laugh!

HA HA HA!  In your face the rest of the NBA!