For 54-year-old head coach of the Chicago Blackhawks, Joel Quenneville, his mustache is no exception.

Over the better part of four decades (we assume), Quenneville’s ‘stache has been quietly – but prominently – resting above his upper lip.

In 2010, Quenneville’s wife Elizabeth had this to stay about her husband’s famous facial hair:

“Thank God I didn’t know him before the mustache,” she told the Tribune. “I’ve seen pictures of Joel younger without it, but as long as I’ve known him, he’s always had it.”

For no reason other than the Blackhawks are in the Stanley Cup Final and we want to, here’s a montage of Quenneville’s ‘stache throughout the years.

Coach Q – 1997 (Credit: Getty)

Coach Q – 1999 (Credit: Getty)

Coach Q – 2001 (Credit: Getty)

Coach Q – 2003 (Credit: Getty)

Coach Q – 2005 (Credit: Getty)

Coach Q – 2006 (Credit: Getty)

Coach Q – 2008 (Credit: Getty)

Coach Q – 2009 (Credit: Getty)

Coach Q – 2010 (Credit: Getty)

Coach Q – 2011 (Credit: Getty)

Coach Q – 2013 (Credit: Getty)

In a court deposition filed Monday in federal court, an attorney for former restaurant manager Lisa Jackson presses the 66-year-old Deen about her racial views and those of her brother, Bubba Hiers. Deen is asked if she’s ever used “the N-word.” She responds: “Yes, of course.”

Deen says she likely used the slur in the 1980s after a black man held her at gunpoint at the Georgia bank where she worked.

Deen insists she and her brother object to slurs being used in “any cruel or mean behavior.”

(© 2013 by STATS LLC and Associated Press. Any commercial use or distribution without the express without the express written consent of STATS LLC and Associated Press is strictly prohibited.)

(CBS) The worst possible reason to take a shot is because you think it’s about time you did.

The NBA is full of such “my turn” guys, who are usually found on teams somewhere between middling and miserable. They fill up the regular-season box scores, make a more-than-comfortable living, and are often the ones in the postgame locker room looking at the stat sheet while others trudge to the showers.

There’s never a bad shot, only not enough of them. The scoreboard may as well not exist, nor does any other situation or context.

I never thought we would see two egregious examples of this kind of play from one of the greats of his era, particularly in high-leverage moments of a game with everything at risk. And, yet, there was Dwyane Wade – the ineffective and inefficient incarnation so common in these playoffs – seemingly not knowing or caring what was best for his team.

While Lebron James carried the Heat, Wade was content to be cavalier.

The fourth quarter opened last night with Miami trailing San Antonio 75-65, staring at 12 minutes separating them from historic ignominy on their home floor, with the deteriorating orbits of their stars threatening to shatter an increasingly fragile organization that had been so formidable just weeks ago.

Erik Spoelstra rolled with an undersized lineup of James, Mario Chalmers, Mike Miller, Chris Anderson and Ray Allen – the same arrangement that powered the second-half blowout in Game 2 — and that group was responsible for a 24-9 run from the end of the third that turned a 75-63 Spurs lead into an 87-84 Heat advantage with 3:48 to go.

Enter Wade, replacing the surprisingly effective Miller, whose quietly resourceful night would include 3-4 shooting, seven rebounds and controlled, competent perimeter defense.

Out of the 2:57 timeout with the Heat up by three, Wade chose to loft an errant turnaround jumper that Manu Ginobili rebounded and converted into a driving layup that cut the lead to one. That would be two points contributing to Wade’s team-low plus/minus total for the night of -17.

Next came what will be most remembered: the approach of the abyss, the yellow security tape anticipating the Spurs’ coronation, threes by James and Allen, and Gregg Popovich’s debatable call to match the smaller opposing unit instead of opting for the size advantage inside.

Overtime, and another inexplicable shot by Wade that gave the Spurs a possession to ice the game, the series, and possibly an era for the Heat.

Clinging to a tenuous 101-100 lead with the ball and 30 seconds left, Wade attempted his longest shot of the game on a night where few were falling for him, a 21-footer from the right side of the top of the circle. Instead of working through the offense, Wade took his turn.

Kawhi Leonard grabbed the rebound, and the Spurs had what they wanted – the ball, a mere one-point deficit, and a timeout to use with 8.8 seconds to go, a basket away from another NBA title.

That Popovich did not then get Tony Parker in the game is questionable, at the least. That Ginobili was left to again careen madly into the defense hunting for a foul was unexpected, but they were handed the kind of opportunity they so rarely have squandered.

Wade may indeed have brilliance remaining in him for one more game, perhaps even similar to the kind on display from James, who finished with 32 points, 10 rebounds, 11 assists and three steals.

He’s lucky to have the chance to prove it, after forcing his team to overcome more than just the Spurs.

Dan Bernstein

(CBS) This can’t be real.

Oh, no.It is.

During today’s edition of First Take on ESPN, the crack panel of guests, which included NBA insder Chris Broussard, debated whether or not Spurs head coach Gregg Popovich should rest his stars in Game 6 of the NBA Finals.

Oh, yeah. The Spurs currently own a 3-2 lead over the Heat in the series. So, there’s that.

Credit: Deadspin.

(CBS) 2-time champion, huh?

Check out the picture of the sockliner in James’ new shoes… It certainly looks like it says “2-time champion.”

Well, LeBron James, not quite yet.

While James may in fact become a two-time NBA champion one day, it’s certainly not a foregone conlcusion.

After all, if the Spurs win tonight, it’s going to be at least a year until he can honestly boast off that accomplishment.

(CBS) If you’ve heard Taylor Swift’s song “22″ you’ve probably wished you didn’t have ears.

That is, until the Miami Dolphins cheerleaders stepped in.

As they did with Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe,” the Dolphins cheerleaders made an otherwise unbearable song, bearable.

Check out the video.

When the Nationals traded right-hander Henry Rodriguez to the Cubs last week, they did so for one main reason.

Rodriguez, though he possesses a strong arm, has struggled with control throughout the duration of his young career.

And it looks like a new jersey hasn’t changed that fact.

During his Cubs debut Monday night, Rodriguez hit an umpire with his first pitch before nailing Carlos Beltran with his second pitch.

Check out the video here. 

Here’s the question:

“A recent report shows that in 40 percent of American families with children, women are the primary earners, yet they continue to earn less than men. What does this say about society?”

And here’s the answer from Marissa Powell:

“I think we can relate this back to education, and how we are … continuing to try to strive to … figure out how to create jobs right now. That is the biggest problem. And I think, especially the men are … um … seen as the leaders of this, and so we need to try to figure out how to create educate better so we can solve this problem. Thank you.”

Watch the horrific video here.

(CBS) The year was 1970. I can vividly recall it as a sticky, sultry midsummer’s day and I was sweating like Robert Hays would later do in “Airplane.” I was in trouble.

Or at least I thought it was.

I had screwed up my 1969 Dodge Charger RT with a toxic mix of foolishness, bravado and street racing. Did somebody say hillbilly? But just as I used to tell my good buddies from the Steger police department, I wasn’t the only one out ratting my car around. Just about everybody I grew up with had a muscle car of some sort, and all of them wanted to race.

Caution. Don’t try running that last lame excuse past a traffic court judge. I once gave it a shot. That’s a no good.

But on this day I had to tell my dad that the brakes didn’t seem right, that the once throaty engine had some funny sound to it and I also thought the tires were out of line, which just might have happened because I’d hit a curb hard.

Check that. Make that real hard.

In truth, I was going to leave the hitting the curb business out. Oh, I was going to say the thing seemed out of line, but I didn’t know the reason.

I figured that my dad, who made his living as an auto mechanic, would be able to fix things. He always could. But what would he do to the ridiculously silly kid who’d been on notice more than once after other incidents of bad driving, and general behavior befitting a Moonshiner.

After all, remember in those days the father was supposed to be the breadwinner and the harsh household disciplinarian. Women were the nurturers, the passionate care-givers, the oh-so loving ones who rarely left the house. My mom did not drive, and like millions of other women at the time, didn’t have a job and wasn’t really expected to.

You also had zero chance of slipping any nonsense by her.

Still sweating and feeling as if I’d been on the wrong side of a bad burrito, I gave my dad a bunch of half truths and lies in the process of asking him if he’d take a look at the car.

To my surprise it went well. Rather than breaking into some crazy person as he had every right to do, he simply asked me to follow him to the garage.

So far so good.

Then not so good.

The car had everything wrong I’d expected and a little more.

I want to say the cost in parts was around $300, a hefty sum in those days. He got the engine purring, changed the brakes and would later take the car to friend of his to get it back in line.

And he did all without yelling, although he seemed more than slightly annoyed as he worked. And believe me, my dad was seldom annoyed. About all he said was that if he wanted to join a pit crew, he’d join a freakin’ pit crew.

I was far from the brightest kid around, but I’ll never forget how patient he was that day, how lucky I was not to have the car taken away for good. I did lose some driving privileges for a brief time, but he probably should have done much, much more.

But then I always think of my dad in those terms. The ultimate good guy with a heart of gold burdened by a kid with head of crap. And also someone who, no matter who asked him, preferred never to talk about his time as a soldier for the 34th Infantry Division in World War II.

When Father’s Day became an official U.S. holiday back in 1972, I don’t remember any type of family get-together, perhaps because my mother had died a month earlier and nothing was going to ease that pain.

But there was no party in ‘73 either, although I was already married and had a son of my own by then.

But being self-absorbed, like karma, can be a bitch at times. In all of these years since, I still harbor a deep sense of regret about not spending more time with my dad, who died of a heart attack in January of ’74. He was 56 when he passed, same as my mom.

I realized in the ensuing years that I wanted to know so much more. I wish I could have soaked up every bit of his life, going back to the days when he was a terrific young baseball player who gave it up to go to war.

I know that he and my mom would have loved my four kids, two of whom have become terrific fathers in their own right.

So don’t make any silly mistakes. Don’t let your own anything get in the way of your relationship with your dad today, or, for that matter, any other day.

You know how they say that life’s too short, right? It really is.

A longtime sportswriter for the Chicago Sun-Times, Terry Boers now co-hosts The Boers and Bernstein Show, heard Monday-Friday from 1pm-6pm on 670 The Score. 

This mission-creep was probably inevitable, knowing how subtly and easily such transformations occur, abetted by media in such a rush to push pandering, lazy plot-lines that they blind themselves to the crassness of using tragedy to sell support for a hockey team.

#BostonStrong began in the immediate aftermath of the marathon bombing havoc as nothing but good intention to unify the city and the relief effort. As was noted in this space at the time, the unfortunate aspect of anything “_____Strong” is the continuing reminder of the source of that branding template: the utterly fraudulent Lance Armstrong, and his corrupt, mismanaged charity that bears half his name, LiveStrong.

Negative connotations notwithstanding, BostonStrong has succeeded in galvanizing fundraising for victims and given a proud city a standardized, positive, recognizable slogan as it works to move beyond the terror of those days.

Now imagine what you would have thought at the time — as the manhunt for the murderers was unfolding, say, — if you were told the same expression would soon be on t-shirts and placards, in black and gold with the Bruins’ famous “B,” employed as the equivalent of “Let’s Go ‘Hawks!” with no sense at all of appropriate separation between grim, historic significance and the mere distraction that is sports.

Fans in Toronto faced backlash over a “Toronto Stronger” hat, and CubbyTees.com in Chicago was subjected Friday to what it termed a “good new-fashioned Twitter-lynching” before opting to stop sales of its own “Chicago Stronger” shirt.

(The proprietor of CubbyTees.com was contacted yesterday by the Boers and Bernstein Show, but declined a request for an interview)

No surprise that either product faced that kind of unwelcome reception, but here’s the deal.

The moment it became clear that “Boston Strong” crossed over from purely altruistic endeavor to Bruin-themed hockey catchphrase, the right to take offense at such response was forfeited, even if such hats or shirts are in such obviously questionable taste. I’m not saying I’d ever want to wear one — nor would I be comfortable with my fully-Blackhawks-crazed wife or son doing so either – but I will support those who produce or purchase them against the convenient, unwarranted indignation of the social-media masses.

Either the term is sacrosanct or it isn’t. If it’s okay for one fandom to in any way conflate it with their support of an NHL title-contender, then they can’t hide behind sensitivity when opposing forces turn it back at them. Once it’s about hockey, there’s no more finger-wagging.

Any weak claim that “Toronto Stronger” or “Chicago Stronger” insults victims can be summarily refuted by pointing out that if there is such an insult, it occurred when all their pain was repackaged crudely and obtusely to aggrandize support for the Bruins, Red Sox, or any others paid to hit something with a stick or play with a ball.

After the negative reaction they endured, CubbyTees.com posted “The design poked fun at the embarrassing, self-congratulatory branding of the tragedy, and its inappropriate adoption by SOME BOSTON FANS AS A MINIMIZING SPORTS ANTHEM, not the sad reality of that day’s mayhem. The design was based on the puzzling creation of a “Boston Strong” slogan in the first place, and then the use of that banner for the glory of New England pro teams.”

Many in Boston, it seems, feel they have earned the right to use “Boston Strong” however they deem fit, then are shamelessly using the bombing victims as a shield when confronted with a snarky rejoinder. Once the choice is made to engage in the arena of civic trash-talk, one must abide by the often rough-edged protocols that push the limits of proper discretion.

Besides, a more effective way for Boston fans to show how “strong” they are is by not overreacting to a silly t-shirt.

Dan Bernstein

Terry Boers, Bob from Niles and Dan Bernstein.

(CBS) Presenting, Bob from Niles! 

Bob made the journey to the Howard Street Inn in Niles to catch up with his good friends, Dan Bernstein and Terry Boers as The Boers and Bernstein Show broadcasts lives from the Howard Street Inn in Niles!

(CBS) If there is any grumbling still going on, I can’t hear it.

It was louder the last time the Blackhawks were in this position, taking the national stage for a shot at their sport’s greatest prize. Anyone paying attention was aware of a lingering, bitter undercurrent cross-cutting the waves of excitement during the Chicago Hockey Restoration of 2009 and 2010, when the hardest of the hard core were struggling to make peace with success.

The 8,000 or so who cocooned themselves in the United Center for most of the early 21st century to live through the unfortunate coaching regimes of Alpo Suhonen, Brian Sutter, Trent Yawney and Denis Savard had made a deeper, more dedicated investment, and understandably – if misguidedly — felt entitled to a greater share of the emotional profits.

They fell victim to the same fallacy of finite appreciation and fear of the mainstream that has haunted so many fans of sports teams, musicians, comedians and writers. The disdainful sneers at wide-eyed dilettantes on the concourse were the same ones seen at whatever Lollapalooza stage showcased the latest band to be plucked out of that club in Athens, Georgia where they used to play for the 50 people who were there from the start. The eye-rolls for the still-cheering rookies who didn’t notice the linesman already called the play offsides were no different from those directed at the long line of adoring fans at Comic-Con, waiting to get the hottest graphic novel signed by an author that a year ago was only known in his dormitory at Oberlin.

The ‘Hawks were theirs, dammit. The joy was theirs, too, and not for the late-coming party moths.

Some of the resentment was directed at John McDonough, the former Cubs boss hired by Rocky Wirtz to rip away years of built-up scar tissue from a calcified franchise and get it moving again. The rapid acceleration to prominence both on the ice and off was enough to rattle some of the lifers, who were disoriented by the predictably effective marketing plan.

“Too Cub,” was one common lament, a derisive poke at self-involved fans more concerned with the atmosphere than the action.

Any lingering discontent was eventually overwhelmed, however. A championship has a way of doing that, dissolving whatever impediment remained to relishing the rare experience of a parade through city streets.

It is undeniably true that another Blackhawks title this year could never recapture the cathartic exultation of 2010, with its sense of arrival and approval, of redemption, and return from exile. But there is something to be said, now, for the more contented, assimilated fandom.

Many of those newbies in the building three years ago have earned some legitimacy. What were unwanted interlopers trespassing in the 300 level are now actual people with names, and are perhaps even friends. Some of the same people asking “What quarter is it?” not too long ago are now the same ones screaming at Don Van Massenhoven to finally make that obvious interference call on David Backes, already.

Speaking personally, some of us can look back to three years ago and would never have known at the time that our wife would ever be correctly exasperated by an ineffective power play, or recognizing and calling out a stupid retaliatory penalty, or that our son would be asking for the newest Bauer Vapors to replace his well-worn (but still entirely useful) CCM Vectors.

This is how good teams are supposed to progress, and how solid fan bases weave together naturally.

There will always be enough silliness on the fringes to be the targets of our healthy disdain, whether it be the drooling dolts mugging for the cameras behind the TV pregame set, the cringe-inducing media fanboys and fangirls who see nothing wrong with their unabashed, unprofessional ‘Hawks homerism, the brutes still cheering pointless fights, or the next bit of useless information from Pierre McGuire.

The last Stanley Cup Final was about more than that year’s team, both burdened and enhanced by history and forced modernity. The ultimate result was deeper and more resonant because of that, and can never be duplicated.

This one would be the next step, though: a maturing, evolving hockey city growing comfortable in its own skin.

Dan Bernstein

Credit: CBSSports.com

(CBS) Ah, the Internet is a wonderful place.

This morning, we told you the story of how Chad Johnson was sentenced to 30 days in jail after violating probation in a domestic violence case involving his then-wife, TV reality star Evelyn Lozada.

But wait, there’s more.

A plea deal had been reached that would have allowed Johnson to avoid jail time… That is, until he playfully slapped his attorney on the butt during the proceeding. After judge Kathleen McHugh saw Johnson’s antics, she rejected the plea agreement and ordered him to spend 30 days in jail.

We now present you with the GIF of Johnson’s butt slap.

(CBS) Tiago Splitter, why don’t you just take a seat for a little while?

Splitter, the 6-foot-11 Spurs center out of Brazil, caught a bounce pass from Tony Park in the fourth quarter of Game 2 of the NBA Finals and went up for what he thought would be an easy dunk.

Little did he know LeBron James would be waiting for him as he approached the rim.

James, timing his jump perfectly, met Splitter at the peak of his jump, blocked the ball and sent a dejected Splitter back down to earth.

(CBS) — After more than a year and a half, the only person not still actively involved in the Jerry Sandusky scandal is Jerry Sandusky.

The man who used Joe Paterno’s careful protection to rape multiple children over years now rots in prison, where he will die.

What has occurred since his incarceration is exactly what so many have been quick to deny in their failed attempts to wash themselves clean, solidifying this as what it always has truly been – and what it will always be — the Penn State Scandal.

The Harrisburg Patriot-News yesterday called the ongoing indignity a “statewide nightmare.”

Pennsylvania Governor Tom Corbett reacted to his crumbling political standing by filing a frivolous federal lawsuit against the NCAA sanctions, attempting an inane argument on antitrust grounds that was tossed out of court Thursday for lacking legal reason. And he himself is under official review for his decision to stall the investigation of claims against Sandusky in 2009 when he was Attorney General, conveniently avoiding any mess as he ran for governor. It looks like he is going to lose, this time around.

Corbett tried a cynical appeal to what he knows is still a large portion of the electorate, there: the Pennsylvainian to whom college football remains sadly, sickly important. This voter cannot comprehend the evil of Paterno’s documented negligence, even when presented with his own, sworn testimony. This voter takes personally the punishments handed down to the program, not understanding that unprecedented horrors deserve unprecedented response.

Paterno’s desperate family and friends will not stop crying, either, showing no desire to let the wounds to their close community heal. Their ongoing propaganda campaign has yet to find traction outside of the insular environment in which they have always existed, instead revealing the effort as self-serving, unsuccessful scab-picking.

They too filed an absurd, egotistical lawsuit, one that will likely meet some similar fate as Corbett’s pointless gambit.

Keep looking at us! Keep looking at this! Look closer!

Ok. Ick. Still.

Credit should go to the school itself, which has accepted the sanctions, adopted the sensible reforms supplied by the Freeh Report, and has chosen not be party to any reactive litigation. That could change, though, as an insurrection is brewing even there. Paterno-crazed alums recently elected new trustees more keen on finding a way to restore the ruined name of their dead coach than actually running a proud university. Their influence should not be underestimated, supported by the same misguided instincts Corbett still wants to exploit. They want that statue back up, regardless of the defiant, cold-hearted statement it would make to the many victims and their families.

This same faction is determined to make life difficult on coach Bill O’Brien, who is one of the handful of important people on that campus with a working moral compass, and a sense of poise and perspective. It would be a shame if one of those truly wanting to help the school climb out of the morass is an eventual casualty of its twisted infighting.

Penn State officials accused of lying to authorities about their involvement in the cover-up continue to make headlines, as well. Former AD Tim Curley and senior vice president Gary Schultz had appeals denied Friday by the state’s Supreme Court, and even the preliminary hearing for them and former president Graham Spanier has not been scheduled, delayed by multiple defense motions.

They are allowed to make their case, of course. But each bit of news also serves to pull the awful feelings back to the fore, and provide new platforms for too many slithering, venomous cultists whose own self-worth seems to be only that of a crumbled program that long lived a great lie.

The worst sports story of our lifetimes carries on at a slow burn. It will simmer in public view for years, always reducing into a dark concentrate of monstrous crimes, unspeakably blind eyes, chanting crowds and false gods.

“It’s not the ‘Penn State scandal!’” we hear. “It’s not the ‘Penn State scandal!’”

With every passing day that anxious Penn State people feel compelled to say it, the more wrong they are.

Dan Bernstein

Cavallari tweeted the news Friday afternoon.

Earlier Friday, TMZ reported the duo had purchased a marriage license at the Davidson County Clerk in Nashville, Tenn.

Cutler and Cavallari were originally engaged in April of 2011, but called it off in July of that year. The two then rekindled their romance a few months later.

In August, Cavallari gave birth to their son, Camden.

Im officially Kristin Elizabeth Cutler!!!!! instagram.com/p/aRHsY0tQ0P/

—
Kristin Cavallari (@KristinCav) June 07, 2013

That much was true after the Spurs snatched Game 1 of the NBA Finals last night in Miami behind 21 points and six assists from Parker.

Arguably Parker’s most spectacular play came in the final seconds of the fourth quarter with the Spurs leading 90-88.

With roughly 7 seconds to play and two seconds left on the shot clock, Parker dribbled around James before falling to the ground. As the final tenths of a second clicked off the shot clock, Parker got to his feet and hit a miraculous shot to put the Spurs up by four points with 5.2 seconds to play.

The Spurs kept the Heat off the board in the finals seconds, earning the 1-0 series lead.

Check out the video of Parker’s unbelievable shot below.

This, from Thomas.

When asked why he won’t release Eddie Vanderdoes from his letter of intent, Brian Kelly said, ‘We have to hold to the integrity of the program,’ referring to the letter of intent program. So, Mr. Kelly. There is no integrity in college sports. And you’re talking like you have any? You left Cincinnati to go to Notre Dame before the Sugar Bowl, while you were under contract. You interviewed with the Eagles this year, while you were under contract. Yet you hold an 18 year old who has changed his mind about playing in South Bend accountable… and then you accuse him of lacking integrity? He was just following your example of keeping integrity of a program. If you live in a glass house, don’t throw stones. Brian Kelly, who ya crappin’?

(CBS) While all eyes are on the glamorous, victorious Heat, champions of the Eastern Conference, Bulls fans would be wise to worry about the losers.

The Pacers got caught in a storm in Game 7, overwhelmed by superior talent and experience to the point that they became skittish, uncertain and clumsy. The intelligence and force of one of basketball’s greatest-ever players was difficult enough for them to overcome, even without one temporarily-rejuvenated future Hall-of-Famer on one side, and another on the wing hitting threes.

The season ended for Indiana after an impressive scrap through the Hawks and the Knicks, finally bowing out only after pushing the favorites to the brink with physical interior play. They care about defense, and it is evident in their concentration and execution that the commitment goes beyond mere words.

The Bulls expect to return a finally-mentally-ready Derrick Rose to their lineup next year, leading a familiar starting group of now well-seasoned pros in what is perceived to be another static season of contending without really going for it. Gar Forman and John Paxson plan to retain as much salary-cap flexibility as possible for a luxury-tax offender, remodeling the bottom half of the roster with another merry band of cheap misfits for Tom Thibodeau to maximize and deploy. The regular-season wins will pile up again.

Problem is, now, the Pacers are better than the Bulls. And they might stay that way for a while.

Forward David West is a free agent, but most believe it likely that he re-signs. His comments have indicated nothing but a desire to remain a Pacer, the team is aware of his critical importance, and there is ample money available for a more than reasonable offer.

Talk of them using the amnesty provision on Danny Granger is wrong, since they already pushed that one-time button to jettison James Posey. Even so, Granger could still be an asset as the primary scoring option for their second unit, or a trade piece that helps them shore up that miserable bench: his expiring $14 million deal is attractive in itself.

The bigger issue is the rapid rise of their current players. Bulls fans can be as excited as they want about Jimmy Butler solidifying himself as a decent performer, but Paul George is now a genuine star. The 2013 NBA Most Improved Player and All-NBA 3rd-teamer is a two-way standout who has already taken the challenge of guarding Rose individually in the playoffs.

Center Roy Hibbert has surpassed the expectations many of us had for him as a plodding, pear-shaped kid out of college. He’s not fast, but he works to run the floor. He’s not quick, but his footwork is more polished. He has developed counters for his primary moves in the post, and learned to defend the basket without reaching and fouling. The height and weight can’t be taught.

Lance Stephenson merited defensive attention from LeBron James, and is getting better and more aware with every minute he plays. Few in the league are as difficult to contain end-to-end off a defensive rebound.

And coach Frank Vogel’s flinty, pugnacious style has been readily accepted. He clearly has their attention.

All it takes is one superior team to make a mockery of a supposed championship window, and the Heat have a current hold on the East. Their reign may be shorter-lived than previously believed, though, now that the miles on Dwyane Wade are evident, Chris Bosh still struggles to define his game, and contract clocks tick.

What’s too bad for the Bulls is that somebody in their own division appears closer to calling “next.”

Dan Bernstein

Need proof?

Check out the photo below from Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals.

LeBron James. (Credit: Twitter)

But that didn’t stop one Division I football coach from allegedly promising the nation’s top recruit, defensive end Da’Shawn Hand, a meeting with the King of Pop.

Here’s the story from CBS Sports’ Bruce Feldman.

Feldman: What is the craziest thing that has happened to you since you’ve been named the nation’s No. 1 recruit?

Hand: Well, I ain’t gonna say any names, but one coach told me that since I’m the No. 1 player, I’m gonna get to meet Michael Jackson. I said, “Isn’t he already dead?” The coach goes, “Well, alright, you can meet Tito.” I was like, alright. OK, I’m done.

(CBS) — Nobody should have to be thankful for the existence of the Miami Marlins.

The woebegone fish are chasing historical badness, winning at a .255 clip while fielding a $30 million payroll of mostly replacement-level players, playing in front of nobody in a city that hates them, hates their ownership, and actively avoids their weird, costly little ballpark as if there were a chemical spill.

Yet one team has to appreciate that they’re around, and that’s the Chicago White Sox.

You see, without their Floridian friends the Sox would be dead last in Major League Baseball in offensive Wins Above Replacement, with their 29th-best total of 0.3 still ahead of the Marlins seemingly impossible aggregate team tally of -1.9. Their Weighted On Base Average – the best catch-all measure of hitting – is a mere .290, with only the Marlins behind them at an astonishing .265.

As this is written, Robin Ventura’s team has scored 183 runs, also good for 29th. A certain other team has scored 152. Not surprisingly, their Weighted Runs Created Plus, which is a park and league-adjusted barometer of offensive value, is 29th out of 30, too. So is their grand total of 72 doubles. Ahead of whom I needn’t say. The Sox were able to win the race to the bottom so far in one category, however, with their three triples.

And it’s not just an issue of team stats, either, when context and expectations are considered. A stripped-down roster of cheap, place-holding bums is supposed to produce like this, which is why there’s no reason for concern over, say, Adeiny Hechavarria, Rob Brantly and Justin Ruggiano not justifying their combined $3.75 million.

When it’s $122 million coming off a season that included months leading the division, tougher questions have to be asked about the continued, frustrating inability to hit, run and score.

Jeff Keppinger was the lone off-season free agent acquisition, and for his $3.5 million he is nothing less than the worst hitter currently in the game, ranking 170th out of the 170 qualifed players with a wOBA of .217. The Sox have four others languishing near the bottom, with Adam Dunn (149th at .278), Alexei Ramirez (142nd at .290), Paul Konerko (132nd at .294) and Alejandro DeAza (126th at .303) earning a total salary this season of $37.5 million.

Tyler Flowers is lucky not to be among those qualified for the leaderboard on Fangraphs.com, because his own pathetic wOBA of .269 would put him at #154.

They used to hit enough home runs to cover for their low on-base percentage and lack of team speed in a hitter-friendly home park, but even that panacea is gone. They are 20th in baseball with 52 homers, which won’t cut it when that’s really the only way they can score.

None of this can be written off to bad luck, either, when the team BABIP of .280 is right about at their ten-year team average of .287. Slow teams with lower line-drive rates turn fewer batted balls into hits.

You can lead the optimistic charge if you like, clinging to the chance for individuals to regress a bit to their historical means and hoping for overachievement elsewhere. It can happen.

I’d rather call the Sox offense what it appears to be: slightly better right now than one of the worst the game has ever seen.

Dan Bernstein

Instead, they poured praised on their favorite “Home Run Hitler.”

Typos strike again.

Check out the Yearbook gaffe below, courtesy of Deadspin.

Photo Credit: Deadspin

(CBS) Alarm bells are going off, and nobody seems to notice or care.

The Cubs are welcoming the White Sox for a shortened, weak-coffee version of their annual interleague get-together – a grudgeless match for rights that don’t merit bragging. Their front office brain-trust is busy preparing for the amateur draft, sifting through scouting reports and slotting names on their board in advance of their favorite day on the calendar.

Meanwhile, they’d be wise to take a close look at their $60 million cornerstone shortstop, who should by now be the least of their concerns as the long-term rebuild pushes ahead.

Starlin Castro is not improving. In fact, he’s slipping.

Theo Epstein and Jed Hoyer placed a big bet on the then 22-year-old with that eight-year deal last year, confident that the mercurial talent could tighten up both his defensive lapses and plate discipline enough to ensure a mid-20s breakout that would make him look like a bargain.

“We’re building a young core, and Starlin’s right in the middle of that,” Hoyer said last August, when it seemed sensible to lock in the cost-control of a shortstop who had already accumulated impressive offensive numbers through nearly three full seasons at such a young age.

The statistical trend, however, must now be keeping Hoyer up at night. If the rapid growth in Castro’s game is to come, some scary year-to-year numbers need to reverse themselves.

Castro’s weighted on-base average (or wOBA, a better measure of total offense than on-base % plus slugging %) in 2011 was a slightly above-average .338. Last year is was right around the league average of .323. This year, through 223 plate appearances, it’s an unacceptable .301.

What’s worse are the strikeout and walk numbers critical to the Cubs’ way of approaching the game, as both rates continue in the wrong direction. Castro walked 4.9% of the time in 2011, popped up to 5.2% last year, but is back down to a career-low 4% this season. He struck out at a 13.4% clip in 2011, 14.5% last year, and is currently at a career-worst 16.1%.

His power is fading, too. Isolated power (ISO) is a way of measuring extra bases per at-bat, subtracting batting average from slugging. After reaching .147 last year, he has dropped to .108.

Fewer walks, more strikeouts, less power.

Batting average of balls in play (BABIP) could tell us if he’s been hitting into some bad luck, but even that’s looks ominous when we see that his 2011 season featured a .348 BABIP. His line drive percentage of 19.9 means a ball off his bat should be a hit around 32 percent of the time, so his 2012 BABIP of .315 and this year’s .316 look normal. It could be, then, that 2011 season that may have had the good fortune, not the opposite.

There are currently 19 major-league shortstops with enough appearances to qualify for the value leaderboard at fangraphs.com. Castro is 18th, with a 0.4 WAR through the first third of the season. His defense per Ultimate Zone Rating (UZR) currently ranks him 20th of the 26 qualified shortstops at -1.0, so that aspect of his game is further decreasing his current value, and the eradication of the mental mistakes — not necessarily reflected even in the advanced numbers – looks to be a continuing project.

There is ample time to re-write this troubling script, and for Castro to snap back to the form that merited the risk of that contract. 50 games is far from a definitive sample size.

Still, it is important to view Castro in the larger picture, and ask if he really is ever going to be the kind of efficient, disciplined player Epstein and Hoyer are so clear about preferring, especially as another draft approaches. He was not their guy until they swallowed hard and committed to him, gambling that his development curve could be trusted to produce at least a 4+ WAR shortstop, and soon.

That day could be coming, but it may be time to discuss contingencies for the possibility that it never does.

Dan Bernstein

Well, actually, yes they did.

Check out the GIF below of LeBron James blatantly flopping after trying to get around David West.

We’ll leave you with this quote from James, uttered during the Bulls series.

“I don’t need to flop,” LeBron James said. “I play an aggressive game. I don’t flop. I’ve never been one of those guys.”

GIF via Deadspin

According to a report, Johnson called the police to report Bieber’s reckless driving after the 19-year-old superstar was seen flying through their gated community in his Ferrari.

Johnson even went so far as to drive to Bieber’s home to confront the youngster, but Bieber refused to come out.

Smart move, Biebs.

Get the full report here!

As such, he gave one of the more honest answers you’ll hear in a victory post-race interview.

When asked what his plans were for the evening, Kanaan promptly responded: “I’m gonna get hammered.”

Check out the video here.

We know Kevin Durant is a nice guy, but maybe he should have proofread the text before allowing a tattoo artist to begin inking an intricate mural on his back.

Tuesday afternoon, Durant posted a photo to his Instagram account of his new tattoo – a detailed mural of what appears to be Jesus and an angel with the Bible verse James 1:2-4 inscribed.

The problem? The word “mature” appears to be misspelled.  On the last line of the verse, the “t” and “u” of “mature” appear to be transposed.

Check out the photo below.

(Credit: Kevin Durant’s Instagram.)

(CBS) There may be new coaches on the Bears, but Lovie Smith is still here.

Hidden in the brush-off Lance Briggs gave the media yesterday is a much larger issue facing a team trying to push one side of the ball into modernity while keeping another rooted in the past. It may not be as easy as just keeping the playbook the same.

It would be unfair to criticize the seven-time Pro Bowler for his answers to direct questions yesterday at Halas Hall, and he was asked about former teammates and coaches. “I miss everybody, you guys” he said. “I miss everybody.”

But the problem came when an innocent question about Brian Urlacher being unsigned caused an already snippy Briggs to end the media session with a flippant “You guys have a good one” before turning tail.

More Coverage
Urlacher Announces Retirement
Urlacher Highlight Montage
Vote: Is Brian Urlacher A Hall Of Famer?

What’s the point of that? What is that bizarre response supposed to say to anybody – fans, fellow players, or Urlacher himself?

The only solidarity that should matter now is that with current teammates and coaches, as a new regime is in place. A public display of loyalty to a former teammate accomplishes nothing, and him being aware of Urlacher’s impending retirement has no bearing on how he reacted. If anything it’s even more reason to feel free to sound diplomatic, yet Briggs still felt compelled to shield Urlacher from any negative insinuation.

In a year of both transition and expectations, we have the strange case of a franchise clinging to what it was as it tries to become something else.

Marc Trestman is smart enough to be aware of this dynamic, and that’s the reason he’s bending over backwards to coddle the defense by hiring a scheme-friendly coordinator and keeping the play-calling terminology. It’s in the Bears best interest both that position-specific skill sets remain useful and that important guys like Briggs are comfortable.

And Briggs knows it, saying “It’s a blessing that he chose to do that instead of having us change our language and the way we do things, so adopting our style and kind of our mantra, I think is going to help.”

“Our style” and “our mantra” mean Lovie Smith is still a powerful, ghostly presence with the Bears. Trestman is almost entirely uninvolved with that side of the ball, and Mel Tucker seems to be here primarily to facilitate continuity of Smith’s defense, which while perhaps wise strategy, creates potential divisions in stressful times.

Briggs’ reflexive defense of Urlacher is evidence of this difficulty. He still defaults to thinking of the now-former player as a teammate, which is somewhat understandable considering the message being sent by Trestman and Phil Emery, which is “keep doing what you’re doing,” while the real energy is poured into a complex offense.

Briggs is still so protective of Urlacher that he can’t even talk about him, even though he’s not on the Bears. But a veteran leader doesn’t throw a hissy fit over a fair question about a guy sitting on a couch somewhere. Instead, he says something like this: “I wish Brian all the best in his professional future, but my concern is this team, these guys in uniform, and working as hard as we can to win the Super Bowl.”

Is that so hard?

The words ultimately don’t matter much, nor does his relationship with the media. After all, Urlacher himself spent years in that role alternating between boycotts and monosyllabic cave-grunting, all while playing at a high level. Perhaps Briggs is just affecting the behavior because that’s how it has been modeled for him.

What does matter is whether the new head coach has the undivided fidelity of an entire roster.

As the wonky Trestman is busy installing his intricate “systems of football” on one side of the building, the other half the team is being told to listen mostly to echoes.

Dan Bernstein joined the station as a reporter/anchor in 1995, and has been the co-host of Boers and Bernstein since 1999. Read more of Bernstein’s columns, or follow him on Twitter: @dan_bernstein.

The Boers and Bernstein Show airs every weekday from 1PM to 6PM on The Score, 670AM (or you can listen online).
Listen to The Boers and Bernstein Show podcasts »

About 3 feet of the snake was spotted sticking out of some roadside brush May 11 by Jason Leon of Miami and some friends as they drove late at night through a rural area of southeast Miami-Dade County, according to the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission.

Leon got out of his car, grabbed the snake behind its head and dragged it into the open, officials said. When the snake tried to wrap itself around Leon’s leg, he called to his friends for help and then killed it with a knife. He once owned Burmese pythons as pets and knew how to handle the snake, according to the wildlife commission.

The wildlife commission is grateful to Leon for spotting the snake and reporting its capture, said Kristen Sommers, head of the wildlife commission’s exotic species coordination section.

Leon reported the python to the local wildlife commission office, which connected him with the Florida’s exotic species hotline, http://www.IveGot1.org. The snake was eventually turned over to University of Florida researchers for a necropsy.

The female snake was not carrying any eggs, the University of Florida scientists said.

“This event highlights how the exotic species hotline allows the public to help us obtain more information about Burmese pythons, so we can improve management of this invasive species,” Sommers said.

The previous record for the longest python caught in the wild in Florida was a 17-foot-7-inch, 164 ½-pound python caught in August in Everglades National Park.

Pythons are an invasive species in Florida, where researchers believe they are eating their way through populations of native mammals in the Everglades. No one knows exactly how many pythons there are here, but the population likely developed from pets released into the wild.

Florida now prohibits owning or selling pythons for use as pets, and federal law bans importation and interstate sale of the species.

(TM and © Copyright 2013 The Associated Press. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.)

Earlier this month, Kemp gave his jersey, shoes and glove to a disabled Dodgers fan after a game, and now, he’s at it again.

In the wake of the Oklahoma tornado that has taken dozens of lives, Kemp has pledged to donate $1,000 to relief efforts for every home run hit between now and the All-Star Game.

Kemp, who grew up in Oklahoma, has two home runs on the season.

I'm giving $1000 for tonight's HR and every HR until the All-Star break for the victims of my hometown in OKC. #PrayforOklahoma

—
Matt Kemp (@TheRealMattKemp) May 21, 2013

(CBS) — Four NBA teams remain in the running for the title, and the never-say-die Bulls are not one of them because, well, they died.

Throughout their entire lost season of water-treading, we have heard Tom Thibodeau’s Bulls lauded for every available description of effort, too often eschewing real analysis of the technical savvy of their defensive system for lazy odes to just how hard this plucky band of misfits continued to play.

You know who else plays really, really hard?

The Pacers, the Grizzlies, the Spurs and the Heat. All of them. Just as hard.

Indiana also lost last year’s leading scorer to injury, too, so they don’t want to hear any excuses from anywhere else. Excuses like vague implications of a belief in some officiating conspiracy – the one that has resulted in three of the NBA’s seven smallest markets in the conference finals, with Miami the largest remaining at #14 on the list.

Carimi Another Waste

Leave it to the Bears to find another sad, confusing ending for a top draft pick. Gabe Carimi surprised some teammates with his decision to skip OTA’s, choosing to work out independently. With the handwriting seemingly on the wall, it’s mind-boggling how much needless expenditure of time, resources and energy has been poured into the tackle position.

Chris Williams was taken 14th overall in 2008 despite concerns over a bad back. He was soon having a herniated disc repaired, then was bad and was cut. On the other side of the line, meanwhile, free-agent signee Orlando Pace was turnstyling into retirement. Then the parade of Frank Omiyale, Kevin Shaffer and John St. Clair, up to J’Marcus Webb. Sorry you had to read that.

So they were chasing when they selected Carimi 29th overall in 2011, no matter the red flags about a knee problem. He was subsequently hurt, subsequently bad, demoted to guard, and now out of the plans. That meant big money for Jermon Bushrod, and yet another top pick on a tackle prospect, that could have been otherwise used.

This is not how it’s done.

Q Now Gets To Coach

The only thing nice about the Blackhawks’ face-plant against the Red Wings is that an NHL coach-of-the-year finalist may have his voice heard for more important things than Viktor Stalberg’s playing time. His stars got pushed around by a decidedly toughened-up Detroit team now emboldened headed back home for game three, and he needs his stars to be stars to keep an overmatched opponent from extending the series longer than it should go.

It was the perfect game to point out the silliness of the “hits” statistic, too, as the clearly more physical team was outhit by the losers 36-26. That’s what happens when a puck-possession team doesn’t have the puck. If the ‘Hawks are playing their game, they are passing, skating and scoring instead of running into people.

The Wings were probably going to get one, though I thought it more likely that it would be at Joe Louis, where the rules would allow Mike Babcock better control over line matchups.

White Sox Still Maddening

First they began the season by kicking the ball around the field like Real Madrid, then added to their problems by celebrating the anniversary of the 1983 team by running the bases like Jerry Dybzinski.

After a four game winning streak, their pitchers issue ten walks in a 12-9 loss and the offense leaves twelve runners stranded, including six against fleshy punching-bag Joe Blanton who was just asking to be lit up again. This is not a tight baseball operation at the moment, allowing teams avoidable advantages of extra outs and free baserunners that will keep them on the wrong side of .500 as they continue.

Big Thanks

Last night’s Campfire Ball at Venue One raised needed funds for the One Step Programs for kids with cancer, run by Children’s Oncology Services. Not only did Boers and Bernstein listeners raise $10,000 in ten days to get an equal matching donation, the anonymous donor was so impressed that he/she tacked on a bonus $10,000, resulting in $30,000 total.

I talked to numerous listeners who bought tickets and attended the spectacular gala, which we expect to have reached $100,000 when all the counting is done. On behalf of all of us on the board of directors, a warm, sincere thank you is in order for all who contributed to this great cause: making kids with cancer as happy as possible, ensuring that their diagnosis does not keep them from experiencing the simple joys of childhood.

Dan Bernstein

This week’s Crap of the Week goes out to Bud Selig.

This crap goes out to Bud Selig, who would not allow Nick Markakis of the Orioles or Trevor Plouffe of the Twins to use custom-made pink bats for Breast Cancer Awareness Day because “They have not been manufactured by our sponsor, Louisville Sluggers,” he said, according to a spokesperson. Markakis and Plouffe’s mothers are both breast cancer survivors and their bats were made by Max Bats, who promised to donate the proper amount to Susan G. Komen, just as Louisville Sluggers would have.

Really, Bud? You’re more focused on pleasing your sponsors than letting two players honor their mothers? How about focus on more pressing issues about the game such as replay or performance-enhancing drugs? Once these are all cleared up, you can go ask yourself, who ya crappin?

And when a young Bow Wow came to his house wearing a pair of Allen Iverson’s Reebok shoes, Jordan wasn’t happy.

In an interview with Montreality, the rapper explained the story:

“I’m actually real cool with his sons, Marcus and Jeffrey… I would say, we kinda grew up together,” Bow Wow said. “Being on tour, every time we came to Chicago, even at the age of like 15, they would come around and we just clicked.

“There’d be times I stayed over at the family, ya know, Mr. Jordan’s house… Actually a funny story, I actually wore some Iversons to their house… and Michael Jordan woke us all up and was like ‘Whose is these?’… and I was like ‘they’re mine’… and I never saw My A.I.’s after that moment. I was in some Jordan’s going down to play some basketball.”

Standing beside him throughout his journey has been Jason’s twin brother, Jarron, who spent 10 seasons as an NBA center.

During an interview with ABC’s Jimmy Kimmel on Wednesday night, Kimmel presented Jarron with a playful t-shirt that read “I’m The Straight One,” so there wouldn’t be any confusion between the two brothers.

Check it out here.

(CBS) There is absolutely nothing romantic about injustice.

I’m still waiting for a single credible argument against widely expanded use of instant replay in baseball to get critical calls right, since the two usually offered are embarrassingly limp.

They are:

“The ‘human element’ has always been part of the fabric of the game, and that shouldn’t change.”

And “the games will take too long with all the delays to look at the replays.”

First, the “human element” that is just a euphemism for “bad umpiring” is exactly what needs to be eradicated. Ensuring a correct call will do nothing to threaten any nostalgist’s bucolic happiness, and if it does I’ll make you a deal: if your house catches on fire, we’ll put it out the old-fashioned, conventional, human way by forming a bucket brigade of helpful townsfolk. Put the phone down. No 911 for you.

You also have to forfeit your dishwasher, since it’s not traditional and old-timey enough. And take those clothes down to the crick for a scrubbin’ and hang ‘em out to dry — I confiscated your Whirlpool front-loaders because they are scary, soulless robots.

Notice that any backwards desire to celebrate avoidable imperfection is always expressed in soft-focus form as part of the discussion, and never in the actual moment when some fat old ump royally derps a call. When replays show immediately how wrong it is, nobody in the room says “Awww, isn’t that cute? That human element is so nice, and that’s why I love baseball.”

And if a game adds a couple minutes to check the video, that’s fine. We can stop with the current, silly spectacle of the four-man crew waddling off the field to huddle out of sight at a monitor, only to emerge with their grand pronouncement. Do it like the NHL does, with centrally-located officials at an MLB office, reviewing the tape and getting it right.

If the umpires have a problem with any of this, buy them off by hiring an extra guy to man the monitor at the park. A union can’t turn down the addition of new jobs.

However it has to happen with the negotiation of challenges and jurisdiction, and the standardization of cameras and angles, it has to happen. No obviously wrong decision should be allowed to stand, especially not in this time of increasing understanding of the value of outs.

We can track in real time the percentage swings in Win Expectancy based on run scoring/prevention probabilities. We know exactly how important any game situation is by looking at the Leverage Index, keenly aware of the specific damage done by poor officiating. This is not just about a tenth-inning home run hitting a railing or not or a close play that breaks up a perfect game – it’s about a seemingly insignificant leadoff groundout on which the runner clearly beat the throw, and the huge difference between one out with the bases empty and a man on first with nobody out.

Veteran umpires are scared of this, threatened by the inexorable encroachment of technology. They worry that their authority is undermined and their significance diminished. And, you know what?

Good.

Stop sucking at your job so often.

Too much is at stake for this many mistakes to continue. There is no good reason for MLB not to do everything reasonable in its power to see every play as correctly as possible.

And to the person who feels clever and creative reflexively asking “Whaddaya want next? Machines calling balls and strikes, too?” I say sure, if and when there is such a thing that can be trusted to do the job more consistently. I’d never rule it out.

We’re not close to being there, yet, but we are at the point where the game needs to improve itself by supplementing fallible umpiring with all the verification readily available.

On this call, I have looked at it from every angle, and there is indeed incontrovertible evidence to inform my decision.

It’s fair.

Dan Bernstein

“I’m a Christian,” Broussard said on ESPN’s Outside The Lines. “I don’t agree with homosexuality. I think it’s a sin, as I think all sex outside of marriage between a man and a woman is… If you’re openly living in unrepentant sin, whatever it may be … that’s walking in open rebellion to God and to Jesus Christ.”

Today, ESPN president John Skipper addressed Broussard’s comments on Outside The Lines with a group of reporters.

“I think we did great other than we made one mistake: The mistake was not being more careful with Chris Broussard, and there is a collective responsibility there,” Skipper said. “Chris Broussard’s job was to come on and talk about the news of the league, how the league was representing it, and through a series of events he made personal comments which was a mistake.”

Broussard released a statement the following day standing by his comments.

Today, ESPN unveiled plans for a new “Digital 2 Center,” to be built at their Bristol facilities, costing a reported $125 million.

The new, 193,000 square-foot complex, which will be completed some time next year, will act as the new home for Sportscenter.

Check out a video showing what the new set of Sportscenter will look like.

(CBS) I like this Bulls team, the one that has outperformed itself for an entire season without its star player, overcoming multiple injuries and maintaining admirable competitiveness.

I don’t like the Bulls team we have seen lately, the one acting like undisciplined, unprofessional idiots while antagonizing officials and whining about calls.

I like their tough defense – multiple helps and recoveries during a single opponent’s possession, closing out on shooters under control, knowing screen/roll rules based on personnel, running the floor end to end, sealing off for rebounds and communicating.

I don’t like worthless post-whistle overreactions that accomplish nothing positive, merely challenging their own lack of depth with needless fouls and ejections.

I like the Joakim Noah from the last game of the opening series, who plays like every contested ball is his both above and below the rim. That guy can play at maximum effort without crossing the line, affecting a game in every area.

I don’t like the Joakim Noah who makes an ass of himself in Game 2, says he knows his behavior wasn’t very “Zen,” then goes out and picks up a stupid technical foul immediately in Game 3.

I like Nate Robinson when the shot goes in.

I don’t like Nate Robinson when he ignores score and situation to find his next chance, nor when he follows a basket with so much flexing, screaming and look-at-me preening, then doesn’t even pretend to be interested in getting back to defend his man.

I like the Nazr Mohammed who was a late-season revelation off the bench, playing important, competent minutes with enough awareness and guile to be effective. I also like the comments he made on Twitter as he apologized for losing his cool in Game 3.

I don’t like the Nazr Mohammed who inexplicably lost his cool and cost his team.

I like Bulls fans who understand that sometimes the best player in the world is on your team, but sometimes he is on the other team, and he will get more than the average share of calls. This is primarily due not to biased officiating, but to the fact that the best player in the world is some combination of faster, quicker, bigger, smarter, more skilled and more determined, which makes him difficult to stop without fouling. I like fans who root for the right things.

I don’t like the oblivious Bulls fans who were cheering after Mohammed’s ejection, chanting his name to the rafters to celebrate a bonehead move, ever unmindful that the short-term delight of seeing Lebron James’ exaggerated fall isn’t worth the consequence. And I don’t like any fan who joins in the trite, witless “Bull___t!” catcalling of referees.

I like Tom Thibodeau for the masterful job he did this season, creating a “next man up” culture of solidarity as he regularly has out-schemed his counterpart with sets and matchups, despite lesser resources. He instilled a sense of accountability that translated directly to the scoreboard in a season that could easily have spiraled downward.

I don’t like Tom Thibodeau now reduced to pushing buttons to turn his team into Dusty Baker’s Cubs. He’s setting a sour tone with baseless insinuations that everyone is out to get his Bulls. As Yahoo’s Adrian Wojnarowski puts it, “Thibodeau will never let these Bulls run out of conspiracies to frame in these Eastern Conference semifinals. No one pitches ‘we’re getting bleeped’ better than Thibs, no one better sells it to his players in a neatly-wrapped, pretty bow package of damning disgust.”

I like what the Bulls have done to work and will their way to this point in the playoffs.

I don’t like the way they seem to want to go out.

Dan Bernstein

Here it is, The Boers And Bernstein Dance Mix: