The State of the Eastern Conference

Most of the basketball world has recently focused on the supposed westward shift of the NBA’s balance of power, but lost in this idea is the fact that over half of the champions in the last 20 years have come from the East, as well as three of the last five. The real shift in power balance seems to be happening within the Eastern conference itself; Boston’s quick rise to power after suffering through an agonizing 2006/07 campaign was just phase one. Detroit, once the epitome of the saying "as solid as oak", is bending and about to break, as evinced back in the spring. Miami was a one-hit wonder and, while expect them to better their previous season, I don't expect anything even resembling championship contention.

Boston will undoubtedly come back just as strong (though the loss of James Posey might make life a tad more difficult), so I expect them to repeat as conference champions. Below them, though, there's been left something of a vacuum. Yes, Joe Dumars has now said he'll keep his core intact, but that's only after he spent the summer exploring ways to shake things up.

And now, entirely at the fault of the Restoration Drama course I'm currently enrolled in, I present you with The Easterne Conference: A Drama in One Part.

A dimly lit mansion, gothic and gaudy, coated in years of dust. The walls are bare, distinguished only by darkened squares where paintings, now covered by white sheets and stored in the cellar, once hung. Light filters in through tattered red curtains at the top of a grand staircase; to the left of the stairs, a single candle burns atop a piano. Rasheed Wallace is seated at the piano, slowly emptying a snifter of brandy, lightly pressing the keys and singing under his breath. A Detroit Pistons logo, faded and missing pieces, barely adorns the floor.

Rasheed (trailing off):
The way you wear your hat
The way you sip your tea
The memory of all that
No, they can't take that away from me...

Enter: Dwight Howard and Chris Bosh

Dwight:
Who goes there!

Chris (to Dwight):
Step lightly, friend; so sweet a voice oft
Masks the sourest of demons.

Dwight:
Worry not, for it is our time.
This house they call Easterne is in flux,
Its owners aging, begging for our sword,
It is no longer time to be light afoot;
We must be swift in action!

Chris brandishes the hilt of a dagger, nodding to Dwight in silence, giving the signal to attack. Rasheed takes no note of their presence, drunkenly pawing at the ivory keys, sobbing gently. Dwight lunges at Rasheed.

Dwight:
Vanquish thine enemy!

There is a brief struggle as Rasheed clings to the piano bench, but the young duo of Dwight and Chris is too much; the scrum ends in a flurry of blades and spatters of blood. Dwight and Chris rise from the floor, and Rasheed lays motionless.

Enter LeBron James, swinging in on a chandelier.

LeBron:
Who is it that dares to enter my home?

LeBron stands across the room, staring down the two men opposite him.

Enter: Kevin Garnett, head topped with a crown of gold, petting a cat.

Kevin:
What noise is this!
A squabble! Kittens scratching over spilled milk!
Be gone, all of you!

Kevin lightly kicks Rasheed.

Kevin:
And have this cleaned.

LeBron, Dwight, and Chris avert their eyes and slink silently out of the room, passing Ben Gordon, face in hands, weeping, on their way out.

Exuent all.

And there you have it, the Eastern conference in one act. I wanted to work in just how terrible Milwaukee and New York will be, but I think those jokes will have 82-game punchlines that will likely just be sad by the end anyway.

I've got some essay to write this weekend, but early next week should see the first phase of season previews. I haven't decided if I should it team by team, division by division, or conference by conference yet, so if you've got suggestions, I'd love to hear them.

Here is my favourite toaster:

Toaster

More soon.



be well.
-nh