Hello. I am the perfect ref. I am the canonical proportion of he/she who controls/ manages the NBA games. It is also my job to deliver on the expectations of David Stern and other league officials. Moreover, I am paid to protect certain players and teams.

For example, when the upstart New Orleans Hornets come out at halftime playing stifling defense and making shots, and pulling within 5 of the stalwart Spurs at the 10:07 mark, I feel the need to call an offensive, if ridiculous, foul on Chris Paul, who incidentally, was taking over an NBA game without being named Lebron James, Kobe Bryant, or Tim Duncan. So, over the next 1:23 of game time, I make sure to call another foul on Chris, and three on David West, who although not playing his best game, has started the third quarter hot and might take over the game. Just for good measure, I’ll call a technical foul on West too. Incidentally, I’ll ignore the fact that Bruce Bowen, a renowned flopper, who switched to Paul after halftime, keeps hitting the floor suddenly and I keep rewarding him with fouls.

So, since on the first of those fouls, Chris made the shot, the Hornets would have been within 2 or 3 points, I feel good that the Hornets are now pushed to 7, which isn’t a huge swing, but those pesky Hornets keep trying to defend. But the longer this goes, the more upset and angry they are and now they’re playing scared, and the lead blossoms to 11. Fortunately, when you have two evenly matched teams, a 10 point swing really IS the game.

[EDIT: Fuck the refs, fuck the Spurs. Steal your home games any way you want. Bring it Monday, bitches. We'll see who the better team is. Believe that.]

OK, people, in vain have I struggled with this all day.

If the team wins, I am going to the airport tonight to meet them, and I think there should be AS MANY PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE. I wrestled with posting this. See, if I plan ahead, I feel like it will jinx them. But then, if I don’t post this, then maybe some people miss out. I am sitting here chanting over and over in my head, “I am not that superstitious. I am not that superstitious.” But man, it is tough for me to type this. Anyway, JUST IN CASE, I am posting the info:

(… OK, just do it. Deep breath. Ready set go.)

What: Hornets Airport Fun

Where: Signature Flight Services, 22nd Street and Aberdeen Street, Kenner, LA. See map below. It’s right off the exit and super easy to find. End of the street on the LEFT.

When: TBD. Game will probably be over around 11ish, so you can figure… shower, press conference, short flight… 2ish? If you’re interested, check back here for flight info after the game.

Who: HornetsHype, Hornets247, HornetsAsylum probably (don’t worry, I can assure you we are all quite normal and attractive looking, despite spending startlingly long quantities of time obsessively digging up Hornets info on the internet), … YOU

What to Bring: Signs, FAN UP stuff, Hornets gear. Hornets Airport Fun is BYOB. This means I will not share my Abitas with you. Bring your own.

I think, in the end, the importance of having people out there outweighs any superstitious jinxing effect posting something like this may have. (That said, the Hornets are 18-1 recently at home, and that one game against the Utah Jazz I don’t think I straightened my hair, I mean I cannot think of anything else I could possibly have done to cause the Hornets to lose in such an egregious fashion… SO I’m going to go take care of that ASAP, if ya know what I mean…)

So FAN UP and get your ass to the airport tonight!!!

But. Only JUST IN CASE.

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Seriously, how money has Mo-Pete been this playoffs in general, and this series in particular? In the second half of the season, as his shot flagged a bit, he fell into Byron Scott’s doghouse, as most Hornets players not named Chris Paul or David West have. He’s a demanding coach who only accepts the best. With the acquisition of Bonzi Wells and Mike James, Mo seemed to be getting less and less time as those other guys played (although shortly thereafter the trade, James was relegated to the bench, and Julian Wright’s ascent began–to the same effect). The Playoffs, however, have changed Peterson’s fate.

Since B. Scott is a big proponent of going with the guys who are playing well, Mo-Pete has steadily got more and more time in the playoffs, and is almost always on the floor in crunch time. Always considered a good defender, Peterson has been outright vicious this series, locking down on Ginobili and aggressively rebounding (any one see that one late last night, when stuck in the corner with a Spur on his back, he just slammed the ball down and effectively dribbled it back into his hands with a mean growl on his face?). Moreover, the man has shot 54% from the field overall and 50% from long-range. So just when the Spurs think they have Peja solved, and are ready to double CP and DX–while Timmy suspiciously watches TC, lest the Crescent City Connection be put in place–Mo steps along the baseline and catches and shoots his way to 4-6 shooting from 3-point land in a crucial Game 5. He was an absolute run-killer, draining 3s every time the Spurs thought they could put some points together and helping the Hornets build their lead bigger and bigger.

We, like most other bloggers, have focused on CP and DX, and often secondarily on Peja and TC (ticktock’s crush aside), and have even tried to give shout outs to Ju-Ju, Bonzi, and the role-players that contribute in big ways unexpectedly and impressively. Yet Mo is no role player. He’s a starter. And as one co-blogger posited, seriously, how many teams have a better 5th player on their line-up? I mean this as no disrespect to Mo by calling him a 5th player, but rather try to point out how quality he is in a league where salary cap, free agency, and ego often prevent a massive collection of talent. But the Bees got it. In spades.

And my man Morris is one of the big reasons this team has a legitimate chance to make a championship team this year. So keep it up Mo!

I say awesome. I have no shame.

And yes, he missed both free throws.

The Hornets took a 3-2 series lead last night in resounding fashion, putting the patented Third Quarter Smackdown on the Spurs. Guess they haven’t figured out all our secrets yet, huh?

When you talk about breakout performances, and you’re going to talk about them considering this is the Hornets’ first playoff run together and also the first time much of the nation has been able to see Hornets games nationally televised, we’ve all heard about Chris Paul. Who was again routinely excellent (for him anyway… I feel as if I’ve typed this sentence 20 times before… why is that? am I having deja vu? where am I? I need a 4th cup of coffee).

But it wasn’t Chris Paul who was the hero of the day.

David West. Dude played like a man on the verge of something great. I really don’t know how to even talk about David West last night. Should we just have a moment of silence? I’m sitting in the arena with two Spurs fans in front of me and an elderly lady to my left, and I knew it probably wasn’t the best place in which to be yelling, “D WEST MOTHAF*@KAS!!!” at the top of my voice. But it just slipped out… like 6 or 8 times. And then to find out he was injured half the game.

Byron Scott said after the game he’s thinking West and Chandler will be OK for Thursday, so we’ll have to keep watching that situation for updates. Or, you know, you could listen to Dr. Chris Paul, who, when one of the news writers at the postgame press conference asked David West about his back pain, piped up from off camera, “He’ll be fine. Ain’t nothing wrong with him,” to everyone’s laughter. Haha. Tyson, in his own postgame interview, said he wanted to go back into the game but the trainer nixed that idea.

And now, I’m gonna leave you with some other people’s words on our very own DX. Because last night was his night. All eyes were on him, maybe as they never have been before, and it feels right that this post should be about him as well:

“David West scoring 38 points in an 83-possession game is a remarkable and impressive accomplishment. He may have had the best game of the postseason thus far, and it’s worth a re-telling. 38 points, 14 rebounds (four offensive), five assists, two steals, five blocks, just two turnovers. In a low, low possession game. Tell your friends.

I’m pretty confident when I call this the best performance of the 2008 Playoffs.” – Kelly Dwyer, Yahoo

“Despite a bad back, David West was destroying everyone Gregg Popovich put in front of him, finishing with 38 points, 14 boards, 5 assists and 5 blocks. In between possessions West was hobbling up and down the court — he basically had the game Kobe was going for when he kept launching shots in L.A.’s most recent loss.” – Dime

“…West barely spoke a word the past two days. He had been dreadful in Game 4, and the less that Scott heard out of him, the more certain he became that this pressure game would bring out the best of him. They’ve been together four years now, and it took Scott until this season to truly understand the gravity, the harshness, that his perfectionist power forward has for himself.

‘When he plays bad, he takes it real personal,’ Scott said. ‘He goes within himself and really starts to think about what he has to do for the next game. I love that about him. It took me a year or so to kind of realize that from a personality standpoint, thinking about what he didn’t do, and what he has to do next. There were times, though, where I wondered to myself: What is he pissed off at now?’” – Adrian Wojnarowski

Uh-oh. Spurs shoulda asked Dallas what happens when David West goes silent for two days straight. And so here we are. With two shining golden chances.

Two chances to close it out.

Two chances to say, “You thought you knew everything about us. But we’re not who you thought we were.”

And, see, if you live in New Orleans, that’s something you understand. And it’s a reason for loving this team even more. You understand being counted out and downplayed, swept out of sight. And you know, somehow you just know, that every step the Hornets take toward the future, every time they claw themselves out of a halftime hole, every time they get up in someone’s face with attitude, every game they win, every time someone sees Chris Paul play for the first time and writes an article saying, “Wow. How did I miss this? This is great“… it means a little more than a number in a win-loss column.

Anyway, win or lose, we’ll get to see the Hornets again. Thanks, guys, for that.

“…The Spurs fell into a burning ring of fire…”

Oddly similar to the first two, except diagonal and sponsored by Harrahs! I’m assuming they’re going to be laid out on the seats for us like last time (hey, Hornets people, do you listen to us?), free for everyone in attendance. Can you say… GOLD OUT!

We’re also going to get a Buzzfest from 6:00 PM- 8:00 PM (naturally), featuring Bag of Donuts. Game time for Game 5 is 8:30. Geaux Hornets!!

Unexpected, this is. And unfortunate.

You know how much I love seeing the Hornets get media hype. You know it’s the mission on which this site was built.

But there’s such a thing as overhype. I know, unbelievable, right?

Even I was rolling my eyes at the torrent of articles last week talking about the meteoric rise of the Hornets, the Changing of the Guard, and how Chris Paul is the Next Coming of Whoever and the Savior of Basketball. Partly because, well, yeah, the Hornets are up-and-coming. Thanks for finally noticing. But I thought it was overhype. It was too much too soon.

I thought, “Well, the Hornets needed playoff confidence, so maybe it’s OK?” But there’s a difference between confidence and believing your own legend. And maybe the Hornets started believing their legend, a little too much. See, that’s the thing about the media. They’re not content with you and your story. They’ve got to spin it, they’ve got to enlarge it, they’ve got to shape it into something else more exciting. That story? That’s not you. It’s something they made, and then called by your name. But you’re in trouble now. Now the Spurs believe their own legend. And if you’re the Hornets, that is the very last thing you wanted to let happen.

You thought the Spurs were going to be content to win one game in their castle? You thought they were going to roll over for you? You thought this was going to be easy?

And now here we are, tied 2-2, with essentially a must-win Game 5 at home. Simply put, if the Hornets drop this game, I’m not sure I believe they can pull this out. I went on one of the forums last night and had to sign off in disgust. Supposed Hornets fans, bragging about how they’d picked the Spurs in 6 from the beginning? Why would you brag about that? Jesus. “Let me go on a fan forum and brag about my own total douchebaggery.” Yeah, no thanks. With fans like that, who needs enemies? Is this how it’s going to end, before it’s even over?

No. That’s not the way to go. That’s not the way the Hornets are going to go. Dropping 4 straight? That hasn’t happened all season.

It comes down to this.

Tell us what we have to do.

It’s come down to this before. And before, and before. If you were there, you remember. You know what the power of the mob can do. The Hornets are 17-1 at home going back to February. If you want us to boo, we’ll boo every time they’re touching the ball. If you want us to scream, we’ll scream. If you ask for gold, we will give you gold. (And, in fact, more gold shirts are on the schedule for Tuesday night.)

And so, here’s my message to the Hornets: We’re your home advantage. You created us. You made us, from 8,000 half-assed people in the lower bowl to what we are today. It’s your advantage. You earned it. Just like you earned the right to be in a best-of-3, this week, with the defending champions. Me, personally? I will do whatever it takes. But unfortunately, guys, I don’t get to be on the court playing the game. That part’s up to you.

I somehow feel arts and crafts time coming on… and you know what that means.

FAN UP OR SHUT UP.

Coach Scott: With the regular season over, I imagine that you’re feeling a bit like Alice. Tumbling down the rabbit hole?

Chris Paul: You could say that.

Coach Scott: I can see it in your eyes. You have the look of a man who accepts what he sees because he’s expecting to wake up. Ironically, this is not far from the truth. Do you believe in fate, Chris Paul?

Chris Paul: No.

Coach Scott: Why not?

Chris Paul: ‘Cause I don’t like the idea that I’m not in control of the game.

Coach Scott: I know exactly what you mean. Let me tell you why you’re here. You’re here because you know something. What you know, you can’t explain. But you feel it. You felt it your entire life. That there’s something missing from the game. You don’t know what it is, but it’s there. Like a splinter in your mind–driving you mad. It is this feeling that has brought you to me. Do you know what I’m talking about?

Chris Paul: The Playoffs?

Coach Scott: Do you want to know what they are?

Chris Paul: [nods his head]

Coach Scott: The Playoffs are everywhere, they are all around us thanks to David Stern. Even now, in this very room (although for the love of Zion do not watch the Celtics-Cavs series– it’s just plain ugly). Once you understand the NBA Playoffs you will see them when you look out your window, or when you open a newspaper. You will feel them when you have your days off or when you fall asleep or when you pay your considerable taxes. They are the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth.

Chris Paul: What truth?

Coach Scott: That experience does not matter, Chris Paul. They would have you believe that like everyone else, you were born into bondage, born inside a prison that you cannot smell, taste, or touch–until, of course, you have been there. [long pause, sighs] Unfortunately, no one can be told what the NBA Playoffs are. You have to see them for yourself. This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. [In his left hand, Coach Scott shows a blue pill]

Chris Paul: [Watches Coach Scott patiently]

Coach Scott: You take the blue pill and the story ends. You wake in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. [a red pill is shown in his other hand] You take the red pill and you stay in Wonderland and I show you how deep the rabbit-hole goes.

Chris Paul: [Long pause; Chris Paul begins to reach for the red pill]

Coach Scott: Remember–all I am offering is the truth, nothing more.

Chris Paul: [Chris Paul takes the red pill and swallows it with a glass of water]

Coach Scott: You have to let it all go, Chris Paul. Fear, doubt, and disbelief. Free your mind.

Chris Paul: What will happen to me?

Coach Scott: You are The One, Chris Paul. You see, you may have spent the last few years looking for me, but I have spent my entire life looking for you.

Chris Paul: But I’m not the one with “Chosen One” tattooed on my back.

Coach Scott: That is irrelevant. I believe it is our fate to be here. It is our destiny. I believe this postseason holds, for each and every one of your teammates, the very meaning of our lives. This is a war and we are soldiers. What if by Tuesday we beat the Spurs? And the Lakers after that? What if then we take out the scabs from the Eastern Conference and that war is over and we and we alone were NBA Champions? Isn’t that worth fighting for? Isn’t that worth dying for?

Chris Paul: Dying?

Coach Scott: You are The One, Chris Paul.

Chris Paul: NBA Champions?

Coach Scott: That’s right. This very season.

Chris Paul: Whoa. [Pauses] Are you saying I can choose whether we win or lose?

Coach Scott: No. You’ve already made the choice. Now you have to understand it.

Chris Paul: No. I can’t do that. I won’t.

Coach Scott: Well, you have to.

Chris Paul: Why?

Coach Scott: Because you’re The One.

Because for once in the playoffs, the “other” Western Conference game was too early to cause me to narcoleptically drop into sleep (Seriously. I slept through both Lakers/Nuggets and Jazz/Rockets. I don’t think I’ve seen a single game from that side of the bracket), I actually watched it. OK, you try watching two teams you dislike play a Game 3 in front of fans who annoy the crap out of you. You gotta find something to amuse yourself.

Unsurprisingly, this game degenerated quickly into the gutter when mW brought up Andrei Kirilenko’s deal. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, Kirilenko’s wife apparently gives him permission to sleep with one other woman per year. This is made twice as funny by the fact that AK-47 is, well, let’s just say he’s not the most attractive dude in the NBA.

So I stated that I would do any other Jazz starter on the floor over Kirilenko, including D-ron Williams (who, I’ve previously stated, both plays and looks like a bulldog) and Carlos Boozer’s eyebrows (they might be out to take over the world). I thought this was not too bold of a statement, since Kirilenko is just that skeevy.

Yeah. That was before ESPN put up Mehmet Okur’s mugshot on the screen, which has convinced me that he is in fact a vampire. No, seriously. I got it for you. See left. Tell me that man is not out to suck your blood. And it was also before I discovered the following set of incriminating photos of the Utah Jazz at a party. (At this point, I would like to thank the Internet for the joy it gives me on a daily basis.)

So, to sum up. I would like to state that this is an official takeback.

I would NOT do the Utah Jazz. And I don’t care about their series either.