Who's ready to f*ck up two lottery picks?

The Cleveland Cavaliers won the first pick in the 2011 NBA Draft last night, and Dan Gilbert and Co. are now on the clock to most likely select Duke point guard Kyrie Irving in what many are I’m calling one of the worst drafts in NBA history. But the Cavs have a great chance to rebuild in the post-LeBron era with the top pick and the No. 4 pick, with which they’ll probably select a big European player, because that’s what this draft looks like. However, it’s Dan Gilbert we’re talking about and he doesn’t need to rebuild, because his Cavs will win a championship before LeBron James and the Miami Heat, who you can watch tonight in Game 2 of the Eastern Conference Finals, which is the last round before the NBA Finals, after which a team wins a championship, in case Dan is confused.

Playoff semantics aside, Dan sent his 14-year old son Nick, who suffers from neurofibromatosis, as the team’s ambassador to David Stern’s lip-craving butt, and Minnesota Timberwolves general manager David Kahn used Nick’s presence to air his thoughts on the Lottery selection process.

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I know I buried the NBA playoffs a few weeks back, but I want to exhume the corpse in order to give it a proper autopsy.  Except by autopsy I mean scorn and ridicule.

Listen, I really, really like the NBA.  Why that is any more, I'm not exactly sure, but I wanted to give these Finals one last chance.  Too many people had said that Tony Parker and Manu Ginobili weren't boring, that the Spurs play the "right" way, that the Cavs questionable offense was offset by their tenacious defense.  Plus, you know, LEBRON.  So I tuned in.

I'm not a basketball genius, but I know a little.  I can appreciate it the same way I can art: I know enough to tell the difference between a Picasso and a Monet, a Jasper James Johns (pre-coffee typo) from a Jackson Pollock.  More importantly, I can tell by looking whether something's good or something's shit.  And I can say with resolute authority that Game 3 was shit.  Utter shit.  All different kinds of shit mixed in a shitty shit cocktail.  The lowest scoring Finals game since the advent of the shot clock doesn't begin to describe how awful that was to watch.

I suppose somebody won last night, and I suspect it was the team led by the guy that tore up the T-Birds' ride in Grease.  But it sure as hell wasn't the fans.  The few of us that tuned in were all witnesses to crap.