TORN

Hi De Ho Hustlers… Happy Seis de Mayo!

Yes, it has been a while and I am truly AMAZED some of you have inquired about The Hustle. I'm also very humbled, grateful, and genuinely welcome each and every one of you back to Casa de Hustle.

Thanks.

Well first off, I'm pleased to report all things in Hustletown are absolutamente perfecto. The actress wife is acting and the writer husband is writing and this Obama kid seems to be working out. Still, winning feels a little awkward. I think I’ll have a Dos Equis just for the experience. Stay thirsty my friends.

Meanwhile, here in sunny socialist Santa Monica, we are all just twittering and dribbling with playoff joy as two of my surrogate "sons," LeBron James and Kobe Bryant, careen towards one another on a collision course in the 2009 NBA playoffs. One thing is for sure, NBA Commish David Stern and all his subtle yet lovable corporate sponsors are salivating like Pavlov pooches for this year's bone crunching monster mash-up possibility.

So, how’s each team doing? Let's start in the east.

As for LeBron’s Cleveland Cavaliers, their playoff games have about as much drama as NBC has on their new fall schedule for the 10 PM time slot. Zero, zilch, nada. No drama Obama. (Jay Leno? Really? How about maybe giving Stephen Colbert or God forbid… a woman like Amy Goodman five hours of prime time network airtime but I digress.)

Back to the playoffs. Playoffs? PLAYOFF?!

Those young and feisty Atlanta Hawks still haven’t learned to fly and neither the Orlando Magic nor the Boston Celtics are deep enough to withstand the wave of Wine & Gold flowing from the North Coast (Northern Ohio). One caveat though - If Kevin Garnett’s knee miraculously heals, Boston becomes a legit threat to the Kingdom. But, if no miracle cure in Beantown for KG, then The Mistake by the Lake becomes The Best Location in the Nation and the North Shore rules the East once again.

What about west of the Mississippi?

Kobe’s Los Angeles Lakers cakewalked into the Finals last spring and woulda coulda been champions if not for the old school thumping they took from their arch nemesis, the great but thuggish world champ Celts. And unless a 7’6” Houston Rocket named Yao Ming and his wacky cosmonaut sidekick Ron Artest somehow stop Kobe & Company or perhaps golden Nuggets Chauncey, Melo, & The Birdman can outscore the Lakers, then the Western Conference will once again be adorned with purple and gold.

Ho-hum.

The Hustle has been predicting this colossal match-up between The L-Train and The Black Mamba for many a year but something funny always happens on the way to democracy. But now, finally, their day has arrived. THE inevitable confrontation is here... well, almost.

And I still don’t know what to do, what to feel, or how to react.

Don’t get me wrong Hustlers, I love the Lakers but truth be told, when my pasty fresh face hit the L.A scene way back in 1990, I was a LakerHater (GASP! Say it ain’t so, Joe.). You see, my people come from Indiana. I was born and raised in Ohio. And as a whiteboy/basketball nut in the Midwest, go figure, I was a Larry Bird fan. It was almost automatic. I was a die hard Hick from French Lick disciple upon my arrival but quickly realized hating the Lakers gravely cut into my tips as a bartender in Tinseltown.

Slowly, night after night, season after season, the sweet songs and rapid fire delivery of legendary Laker announcer Chick Hearn (Miss you Chicky baby!) and Jerry West's shrewd acquisitions of Shaquille O’Neal, Kobe Bryant, and Zen Master Coach Phil Jackson cemented my love for the Purple & Gold. Even after The Big Nickname (Shaq) bolted the Lake Show in favor of the tranquility of the Miami Heat and DeWayne Wade (Not to mention the Sunshine State's tax codes)- I STILL loved the artists formerly known as the Minneapolis Lakers. They were my team in my new adopted home.

For the record, I have ALWAYS had nothing but love for Magic Johnson. My brother and I used to watch him at Michigan State back on the farm in the pre-cable days with a high powered antenna that picked up his games on WKBD out of Detroit.

But then one night at the end of the Clinton era, I saw something I've never seen before.

It was on late night cable. It was a force of nature. IT was a 30-year-old-man-trapped-in-a-16-year-old-linebacker-point-guard-body named LeBron James. He was this over-hyped, super talented, phenomenal, Ohio state champion basketball/football playing man/child without a father who was touted as the next basketball Jesus. His games were already on national TV and he was only in high school. He was bigger than Maurice Clarett.

Let's just say my basketball life changed forever.

I grew up a couple hours west of Cleveland in Toledo so you might think I’ve always been a closet Cavs fan, right? Not a fat girl’s chance on America’s Next Top Model. (Where is Susan Boyle when you need her?)

Since the Cavs inaugural season in 1970 and basically all the way through the 90’s, this was the only franchise who made the Clippers look like winners. Even when the Cavs had decent teams, they would either get crushed by the likes of the Da Mighty Bulls or crumble under devastating injuries.

Once, drunk at Frosty’s Family Bar on Put-In-Bay Island off the North Coast, I slightly remember watching His Airness (Michael Jordan) destroy the Cavs and Craig Ehlo with “The Shot” (One of his first buzzer beaters) in Cleveland in 1989. If the Cavs didn’t break your heart, they surely were guaranteed to mismanage their way to a lottery pick only to blow the draft year after year.

I cruelly laughed off the Cavs and never considered them a serious sports franchise. I definitely wasn’t a CLEVELAND fan of anything. They haven't won a championship in ANY sport since I've been alive. Talk about a long cold streak, the only thing hot enough in Cleveland to catch fire when I was growing up was the river. Even the FM rock station (100.7 WMMS) was called the Buzzard. I'm telling ya, the scene was dying, man. NFL Hall of Famer Jim Brown was their last champion in 1965.

Until… King James. His bright burning star has brought this town back to life.

In fact, he shines so bright and lively it really didn’t matter where this kid was drafted to perform, I was going to watch him play wherever, whenever, and as much as possible. At the time he came into The Association, I was bartending at various establishments who aired most every NBA game so I got to watch him AND get paid. That was nice. Now we live in the satellite/Tivo/Internet era, and I hardly miss either LeBron or Kobe play. I do miss getting paid to watch b-ball while drinking booze for free.

Trust me, I am an expert on Kobe and LeBron and one thing is a given: LeBron and Kobe are the two best players on the face of the planet. Period. Their comparison is unavoidable.

So finally, after long deliberation, countless hours... years of studying, dissecting, enjoying, and witnessing 99% of both of these virtuoso hoopsters' games, including their Gold Medal winning Redeem Team effort in the 2008 Summer Olympics, I have painfully come to my conclusion.

Here it is - The Hustle’s OFFICIAL OPINION on Kobe and LeBron:

I am torn. Truly.

I love them both but Cleveland has suffered long enough. The Hustle believes the basketball Gods will bless the Cavaliers, LeBron James, and the entire city of Cleveland with their first championship in 45 years when The King raises the Larry O'Brien Championship Trophy in June.

But still, all this does NOT help me know how I am supposed to FEEL. And there's still so many unanswered questions.

Will their match up be like Bird and Magic? Jordan and Malone? Jordan and Barkley? Russell vs. Chamberlain? Or maybe Cain and Able?

Oh, I'm so conflicted who to pull for.

Lately, I've empathized with Archie Manning (Father of NFL quarterbacks Payton & Eli, who are both Super Bowl champions) because I too am unable to choose a favorite son. My emotions are as a tortured as a Shakespearean character or something (“To be or not Kobe?” Or maybe, “The play’s the thing wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King").

King LeBron James indeed.

During the 2009 NBA Finals, I might resort to taking long drives up the PCH listening to books on tape or start a bird watching club because I just can't stand to see either player or team lose. I just can’t face it. Who do I want to win? Who do I want to lose?

I DON’T KNOW!

One thing I've decided and know for sure is this - I’m going to buy each one of my “sons” jerseys then find a tailor to split the jerseys in half down the seams and create two hybrid jerseys so I will never have to lose again.

Bottom line: I’m torn.

Thanks for reading The Hustle and remember, give peace a chance.