McGovern Player of the Finals - Game 5

There's a truth in numbers. People often use the words numbers and stats interchangeably. Despite either word being able to describe the other, there still is more of an innate truth in numbers. Each of the previous four Finals games has seen a different winner (Ginobili, Bosh, Green and Leonard). In game 5, which had the highest of stakes (because both the eventual McGovern Player of the Finals and FAGGOT of the Finals would end up being determined - the true two crown jewels of the NBA postseason) one of those four go on to break the tie-break of one-game apiece.


MIAMI:
Allen +1 -1
Anderson -1
Beasley +2
Bosh +3* +1 -3
Cole +2*
Haslem +1
James +1 +1 +2 +1 -2
Wade -1 -1 -1 -1 -2

SPURS:
Diaw: -1 +1 +2 +1 +1
Duncan +1 +1
Ginobili +2* +1 +1 +4 +2 +2
Leonard +1 +1 +2 +3 +1
Mills +1 +1 +2 +2 +2
Parker +1 -2 -1 -1 +1

McGovern Player of the Finals: Manu Ginobili (2 Games). The truth in numbers I was alluding to earlier is in all of Manu Ginobili's numbers. He lead the Finals both in actual + / - and in the more important + / - 's from me. I heard a sportscaster aptly summerize his play when he said "somehow he manages to take 3's that feel like they should be worth 8." This is exactly the reason he's the first player in NBA history to have performed the McG-feat: winning 3 total McGovern Player of the Finals awards. There have been three-peats before, but never a McG-feat. I'm glad to give Ginobili the distinction of the first one.

* Chris Bosh started out the game with +3 because he guaranteed a win before the game. I interpreted this as him referring to winning the McGovern Player of the Finals so I awarded him for his enthusiasm.
* Norris Cole received points simply because he entered the game before Mario Chalmers did, somewhat fulfilling my previous prediction.
* Ginobili got these points for the look he had in his eye after making his first three. I could tell a feeling of redemption had ensconced him - and he was embracing it.

McGovern FAGGOT of the Game:
Heat Fans 0
M. Jackson +1
Refs -2 -1 -1
J. Hill -2 -2 -4
Nos 0

McGovern FAGGOT of the Finals: Jonah Hill. I didn't bold that text as I feel this is something to be ashamed of and forever looked down upon. Jonah you are officially responsible for Miami fans not three-peating in the worst way possible. You've joined the dubious ranks of Mike Miller and Jason Terry with a badge of shame you can't lose. I wish I could say I'm sorry, but I'm not.

McGovern Player of the Finals - Game 4

Glory days. Glory days. This isn't a reference to the Spurs of old. It's more applicable to Greg Popovich, who I'd like to unofficially label: The Boss. Americana blue coller-esque work efforts along with beating the former NJ nets in another Finals made me think of him in the third quarter of tonight's Finals game. He shouted what I interpreted as "hard pick" to Boris Diaw. It made me think of the Gatorade "hard work" commercial which LeBron James got flak for after game 3.
LeBron is sponsored by Coke and thus Powerade. After his cramp in game 3, twidiots apparently texted Gatorade. I found the company's response pretty damn funny.
"He's not one of our clients and we've been on the sideline this entire time." Referring to James not drinking Gatorade. Pretty underhanded and excellent. Gatorade has since retracted the comment. I wish I understood their thought process. All publicity is good publicity. Anyway, during the entire fourth quarter of the game I kept Bruce Springsteen - Glory Days playing on youtube.

MIAMI:
Allen +1 +1 +1
Anderson +1
Bosh +1 -1 -1 -1
Chalmers -1 +2
Cole +1
Haslem + 1
James +1 -1 +2 +1 +1
Wade -1 -3 -1 +1

SPURS:
Bonner +1
Diaw +1 +1 -1 +1 +8 +1 +1 +2 +1 +1
Duncan +1 +2 +1 +2 +1
Ginobili -1 +1 +1 +2
Green +1 +1 +1 +2 -1 -1
Leonard +1 +2 +1 +1 +7 +2 +1 +1
Joseph +1
Mills +1 +2 +2
Parker -1 +1 +1 +1 +2 +1 +2
Splitter +1 +3 +2

Not a ton happened otherwise during the game. I had suspected more Gieco or Godzilla commercials would surface to give lizard deduction points to Jonah Hill to be more frequent. Fortunately something else arose to balance things out. A Hercules commercial, featuring none other than The Rock (The Great One, the Most Electrifying Man in Sports Entertainment, Perfomer of the Rock-bottom, Perfector of the People's Elbow) showcased him fighting what I suspect to be The Hydra, a reptilian monster with regenerating heads.
An uninformed individual about the subjects of Greek Mythology and herpetology might question why I'd bother negating points from Mr. Hill here. Afterall, the Hydra has several snake-looking heads and isn't exactly a lizard. A lizard usually can regrow body parts, where a snake cannot. Thus I felt the mythological Hydra was more similar to a lizard; and subsequently deducted points from Jonah everytime the commercial came on.

McGovern FAGGOT of the Game:

Heat fans -2 -2 -22 -1

M. Jackson -1 +4 +1

J. Hill -40 -6 -4 -14

Refs -1

FAGGOT notes:

HEAT fans: you're all pathetic. I personally plan on infiltrating the national weather service to name the next category 5+ hurricane something to insult you. I watched the lyrical youtube video to Will Smith's Miami after the game ended because I wondered how many lyrics I could warp to seem violent or offensive about Miami; it was all of them. I hope you all party all night when your beach is gone.

M. Jackson: not one "grown man" reference the entire game. Touche' sir.

J. Hill: ... How fucking dare you? You inconsiderate asshole, making money off of idiots who see your shit and being associated with the word "ultra" is one thing. Mingling with the problems of a half-god for attention? You've hit Rock Bottom - only in a moral sense, though. If I ever encounter you and The Rock together again in any encounter.. I will rock bottom you so hard it'll temporarily reverse the magnetization of the earth's core, allowing me to give you a People's Elbow on the way up and the way down. Fucking prick.

Refs: Haters gonna hate. Good job and no judgements here.

McGovern Player of the Finals - Game 3.

Apologies for this post's delay. I meant to type this out earlier but found myself without my trusty "quad-ruled steno book" that I use to scribble my points on earlier. Scribble would describe my hand-writing, which aside from my signature - passed down from four generations of Charles Patrick McGoverns - is probably difficult to read. Last night's game ended up being judged fairly lightly point wise (fairly implying uncharacteristic - not an antonym for heavy), for the players involved. Miami fans being essentially silenced throughout the first half helped emotions from clouding my first-half judgement.
Despite and probably as a result of the record-breaking offensive performance by San Antonio, the majority of points I awarded were because of defensive activity & acuity. I felt despite Leonard's excellent offense, his defense was sub-par and Danny Green played the most consistent throughout the game. Norris Cole also played decent defense despite that his offensive lackings were lopped in with Chalmers's. I won't be at all shocked to see him start for the HEAT and plan to award him thereupon.

MIAMI:
Allen +2 +3
Bosh -1 +1 -1
Chalmers -2 -4
Cole +3 -1
James +2 -2 +2 -1 +1
Wade +2 +2 +4

SPURS:
Bellinelli +2
Bonner +1 -2
Diaw +3 +1 +1
Duncan +1 +1 +1 +1 +4
Ginobili +2 +1 +2
Green +2 +2 +4 +4
Leonard +1 +1 +1 +2 +2
Mills +2 +2
Parker +3
Splitter +2

While trying not to listen to Bill Simmons's, Sage Steel's (total porn name) and Jalen Rose's first half analysis something caught my ear. Although it was storming outside I knew that wasn't it. It sounded like something hand landed on my back door. For some reason I really thought it might've been a bat. There's a wooden deck over my door which makes it a nice place for creatures to seek shelter. I've discovered most existing non-aquatic animal phyla there so far, aside from the ever elusive mammal. This was my chance. I sauntered up to my door, while switching on the outside light as this wouldn't matter much to what I suspected it was. Upon opening I saw no movement but the rain yet immediately heard the vibration once again. It was coming from directly above me, the ceiling tile on the inside. When I shut the door and jumped up to poke it and heard an odd rustling, I didn't know how to react. The movement pattern seemed to systematic to be a mouse or mammal, yet too light to be even a large spider. After repeating my jump-step-listen combo I decided I needed some tools. I slinked off and retrieved a step-ladder, a mini-flash light and a baseball bat.
It was time to start spying. After removing a couple of ceiling tiles and poking around with my bat I discovered it was a lizard Wikipedia described as being secretive and agile. Slick. Still waiting for half-time to end I decided to see what Wikipedia would say about "ultra-hearing." Hearing aid and Ultra boy were among the initial results. Both valid choices but I ended up clicking the one about Ultra-boy. To my unfortunate surprise I discovered it was a DC superhero (Jo Nah of the planet Rimbor). Jonah Hill will now suffer point deductions for every lizard reference throughout the duration of the finals.

McGovern FAGGOT of the Game:
Heat Fans -1 -600
M. Jackson -1 -2 -2 +1
J. Hill -60 -4
Refs -2 +2 +1

FAGGOT notes:

Heat Fans: Worst fans in the history of the league. I don't even particularly like James much but I really feel sorry for him regarding them. One would almost think after Game 6 in last years Finals they'd have learned their lesson. They walk out at half-time during a Finals game the year after their team made one of the best come backs of all time (as if walking out during the Finals isn't bad enough). They never cheer for their team unless it looks like they're guaranteed to win. I was actually about to award them their first points during the teams resurgence in quarter 3 when Miami looked poised for a comeback. Then Boris Diaw made an excellent play and they were instantly silenced while never making one more even half-way convincing chant the rest of the game. Fucking ingrates. They're the fan versions of Jonah Hill. Fat, worthless, whitewashed and entirely unconvincing.

M. Jackson: Most of his deductions were for continually saying "grown man" in some form or another.

J. Hill: I can't believe this fucker is associated in any way with the word ultra.

Refs: I have to admit they've been better this series than in the rounds leading up to the Finals.

Mistaken Guy-dentity: a schizo-textal affair.

This affair began during the second quarter of game two of the finals. During the commercial breaks of the game I was texting back-and-forth with a friend about the happening of the game thus-far. A germane tidbit about said individual entails his taking an abnormal psychology course. He seemed to feel one simple course, a course which has a historical track record of enabling students to over-analyze and more importantly over-apply the nature of the subject, to qualify him to diagnose me. This course was predictably, abnormal psychology. As a former psych-major: I'd been there, yet hadn't done that. Although I will admit the Wikipedia link to Schizotypal personality disorder did make me laugh a little:

Schizotypal personality disorder is a personality disorder characterized by a need for social isolation, anxiety in social situations, odd behavior and thinking, and often unconventional beliefs. People with this disorder feel extreme discomfort with maintaining close relationships with people, and therefore they often do not. People who have this disorder may display peculiar manners of talking and dressing and often have difficulty in forming relationships. In some cases, they may react oddly in conversations, not respond, or talk to themselves. They frequently misinterpret situations as being strange or having unusual meaning for them; paranormal and superstitious beliefs are not uncommon.

You can be assured, this segue was intended. Anyhow, we were texting about Finals play when I randomly received a text from an unknown individual who seemed to be very well-informed of the inner-workings of the MPOTF system who had a disdain for Manu Ginobili and Chris Bosh. It's relevant that this happened mere seconds after I had asked the aforementioned guy if his girlfriend had any thoughts about the game at hand. Timing.
At this point I suspected the random text to have originated from a third party in a new Floridian I'd recently encountered. After a few messages the exchange suddenly came to a halt.This person texts me a paragraph assuming I knew who they were? The gall! My mind started racing. Who could this be?
Why hadn't I asked them initially? Unfortunately, I knew the answer to this query. I don't save numbers in my phone because I memorize all of them - or pretend I do anyway. I used to do this accidentally before the cell phone craze began. Afterward, I concluded my system of numerical memorization was more efficient than having to save names. I could be anywhere and everywhere, without a phone and utilize all the necessary numbers I needed. Slick. 203-967-3757. Knowing all of my friend's old house numbers in Connecticut is unfortunately not as useful as I had wished. And that's my old house number so feel free to call it.The next day I texted the aforementioned friend whose girlfriend I suspected of texting me several times. He had successfully pranked me in the past - there was no way I was going to let it happen again.
"Clever girl..." I texted him. This is a quote from "Jurassic Park's Muldoon" upon realizing he had been stalked and cornered by several "Deinonychi."
"Who? What" He responded. Alright - he wants to play it this way, huh? I thought to myself. More than one of us can play dumb.
I texted the mystery number from last night under the clever guise of being uninformed of the situation at hand.
"Are you pleased with Bosh's performance?" "*Were you?"
"I blacked out and fell asleep right after texting you. But unless he died I was NOT pleased."
My conclusion was that the both of them had definately been in touch. This response was not only suspect but an easy cop out - and a slap in the face to my intelligence. They both clearly knew I was onto them. I immediately arose from my seated position and screamed "fuck."
Oddly enough though, negative feedback seems to encourage me. The next phase of my plan was immediately mentally laid out. I would use the new Floridian outsider to pretend to miss-text the mystery texter. Fucking slick.
Luckily for me, the Floridian was nice enough to agree to participate. The motion of my plan had began.
Later I was texted with a result.
I won't name names, but suffice to say the result was "Z."
I instantaneously reviewed all of the prior information about the entire situation. I was pretty damn wrong. The result wasn't my friend's girlfriend but guy a I knew, who I knew had a very strong bias against Manu Ginobili.
I had essentially made up this entire situation, been fueled by manufactured drama I'd created, and cornered myself into receiving another...
Reality Check.

McGovern Player of the Finals - Game 2.

Fuck. I'm disappointed for several reasons. The Spurs losing is an obvious cause which I'll gloss over for now. The lack of Jonah Hill commercials is also a mixed bag. I'm mostly concerned about my lack of game awareness. During the game, I was texted by an individual with around a paragraph of vitriol for Ginobili. I immediately dismissed this as a common-place reaction to my polarizing scoring system. Haters gonna hate.
It's relevant to know that at this point I was several Beast-lights deep into what I had pre-ordained as the most heavy point-exchange of the Finals. This also happened during a commercial break during which I was running back and forth between my fridge, my recycling can and my computer on the other side of the basement. I'll be the first to admit I was caught red-handed texting someone who I thought was entirely someone else throughout most of the game. If only I had simply read the area code of the number... or realized any concept of timing. I didn't..
The fact that I had added yet another FAGGOT to the list kind of excited me. This FAGGOT happens to be a long-time hater of the McGovern Player of the Finals - and predictably a LeBron lover. He'll be referred to only as NOS. He sent me a rather degrading E-mail regarding my point system before game 1 began. As the astute individual I am however, I simply informed him about a few key facts. One of which was that my point system seemed to be universally embraced: even by a hockey player among others. And that my post detailing the intricacies of my point system had an all-time hit-high. Told.
Coming into game two I had received a few Jonah Hill references from random readers. I figured this would be a coming down party for Mr. Hill's point total. One particular picture of him alongside Dale Jr. prompted me to give him a -10 point total to start the game.
Tim Duncan came out roaring and I had hoped he might be my man, this game. Here's the way it worked out... No commas this time. For every comma during my last post, google + tried to hyperlink me to something, usually the show 24 - I'm not sure why. As many commas as are quantifiable in my last post, is at least how many times I had to exit a hyperlink. Edit: it's still happening. Anyway...

HEAT:
Allen: +1 +1 +1 +1
Anderson: +1 +1 +1
Bosh +1 +2 +3 +2
Chalmers +1 -4 +1
Cole + 1
James -1* +1 +1 -1* +1 +1 +1 +1 +1+1*
Lewis +1 +2
Wade -1 +1 +1

Spurs:
Bellinelli +1
Diaw +1 +1 -1 +1
Duncan +1 +1 +1 +1 +1 -2
Ginobili -1 +1 +1 +1 +1 -1
Green +1 +1 +1
Leonard +1 +1
Mills +1 +1
Parker +1 +1 +1
Splitter +1 +1 +2 +1

*Inexcusable edit: The asterisks on James's points regard different things. His initial subtraction was because he yet again used "dog" in his pre-game pep-talk. The second was because of a "hard work" Gatorade commercial. His third was because I felt he looked at a ref the wrong way.

McGovern FAGGOT of the Game:
Heat fans: 0 (don't count them out - it is cumulative after-all and their chant enrages me)
M. Jackson: -1 -1 -1 -1 -1
J. Hill -10 -2 -2
Refs -1 -1 -1
Nos 0 (for now)

FAGGOT notes:
Don't count out Heat fans. They may be in a statistical hole, but every-time they perform that dumbass chant - which only seems to happen when their team is already winning, although I'll admit it's seemingly effective - I'm suspect to flip and subtract a massive point total. Whatever number first enters my head. Imagining it enrages me to an extent where I'd almost subtract something currently.

J. Hill: this fat fuck said 'real talk' during a clip; -10. I subsequently added any 22 Jumpstreet reference to his ability to lose points.

Nos: Well, well, well... when you threaten the big dog, you're likely to be bitten. No apologies here. As a supposed non-facebook user, you seem to have an interesting knowledge of the MPOTF point system's inner workings. If this was your goal: mission accomplished. One Taiwanese person is officially on the radar of the sports conglomerate known in the East only as MPOTF. I can add associations at will, subtract points on a whim and make-up stories wholly to warn. You have been.. warned.

Worthless piece of dog-shit lyin' in the road.

My title is quite literally how one of my friends referred to the other friends' entire family upon moving to NC.
Imagine a Hatfield & McCoy type feud devoid of anything interesting. This was the Rockholt - Baker feud of old.
The first encounter is fresh in my mind. I was playing Goldeneye - the first FPS that it mattered to be good at - inside when my father told me to quit and to talk to the guy at the top of my driveway. This guy was rollerblading back and forth, clearly in no rush to be anywhere. I'll admit, I was kind of intimidated as a new-comer to the neighborhood. Someone rollerblading around your property line has that effect. Deliberate, I'm sure.
I walked the trek to the "top of the road" as it's referred to down here; known everywhere else as, the street. I met a guy who I thought was a roller-hockey badass/enforcer. After asking me about my origins, he proceeded to give me a few breakdowns on Southern history and culture. He informed me about ins and outs of the civil war I wasn't aware of. George Washington had fought for the South, among other things. He also informed me, unintentionally, that "down here, we don't waste time sayin' whole words" my grammar was lacking. This was my first snap-shot of Southern culture. His name was Cody Baker.
I later discovered a different subtly of the neighborhood. I was hanging out with Cody at a neighbors house, shooting hoops - I later found out this neighbor was an evangelical christian. These two shady characters in hoodies showed up. This weirdo from my bus who had made strange faces at me and his tall, silent friend. I get the feeling they had more interest in me than in Cody but I bit my tongue for the time being. They hung out yet didn't disclose or volunteer their names. It was slightly akward.
Later that night, Cody's mom called him inside - literally. I was left standing around with this closet christian I didn't know, and two other shady street members. It's pertinent to know at this time, both of the shady 'others' of the neighborhood were sizing me up, not exactly knowing what to think of me - as I may be on Cody's "side." There was literally a family divide on the street that I wasn't aware of.
A random dog was following one of them, which I approached and petted.
"What's his name?" I questioned.
"Max." shady #1 answered.
"What's your name?" Shady #2 answered for him: "Jarred" (nearly as worthless as Jonah, but I didn't disclose this information at the time).
"So you wanna come over?" Jarred asked.
I accepted and we walked down the barren street of Babe Stillwell toward his house. Along the way, Shady #2 revealed his name to be Roddy and asked me several questions about Cody and his well-being.
"You know Cody is full of shit right? Everything he says is a load of dog shit" he stated.
"Uh, well I just met him a few days ago.."
"A Baker (Cody's last name) is like a worthless pile of dog-shit lyin' in the road."
This kind of flabbergasted me. I admittedly burst out laughing while looking toward former shady #1, Jarred as his name apparently was. He simply nodded. These people really are dumb inbred fucks - was a thought that passed through my head.
Nonetheless, we kept walking toward Jarred's residence while Roddy kept telling me how worthless the entire Baker clan was. Despite how ignorant I perceived him, along with everyone I had met on the street, I followed them and was entertained.
Upon entering the Douglas residence, I was met by a short, stocky woman in Jarred's mom. Upon entry she greeted me warmly whereupon Roddy asked "Mrs. Douglas, how dumb is a Baker?"
She laughed hysterically and didn't answer.
There's more to this portion of the story - but it isn't a part of this story. It mostly involves Jarred's brother and his friends scaring the shit out of me. Little did they know..
I felt I had been duped. The entire first few days I had been soaking up everything my first friend on the street, Cody Baker, had told me.
I was still skeptic of both sides, as neither had given me convincing evidence that anything they said was credible. This Jarred character told me the Jaguar XJ220 was the fastest car in the world - I insisted it was the McLaren F1.
When Roddy wasn't telling me about how terrible the Bakers were, he was insisting a Chevelle was the fastest car in the world at a quarter mile... and that his dad had more tools than mine.
I'd also like to emphasize that these tellings are mere morsels of my historic storytelling capability. Yes -  if you've ever met me, just know that you're never safe. I am the sole master of my vaults' domain. Air traffic controllers, economists, coke throwers, lawyers: none of you are safe - pun intended.

Fast-forwarding several years, I think it's clear who was right among the important points. I was pretty-much right about everything, including Deinonychus being the dinosaur that inspired "Velociraptors" (in reality a chicken sized dinosaur, comparative to archeopteryx - an ancient chicken) in Jurassic Park.
And although his counterpart seemed to be wrong about pretty much everything, Roddy was entirely right about Cody Baker.
Upon being friends with anyone else on the street. He started to make up random rumors about me, which I found even more insulting as I felt I was his sole defender among social circles.
Things came to a head when he told "everyone" he found me "all coked out in Food Lion." A ridiculous statement for several reasons. The obvious being I hadn't done coke yet. And even if I had been theoretically coked up - I like to think I would've shopped at Harris Teeter anyhow. My idol, Patrick Bateman, definitely wouldn't shop at Food Lion.

... And tonight. Tonight, I was traversing what I believe to be my street, in my Tercel - from hell - when I saw a sign in the Bakers' lawn when rounding a corner upon my return trip. "Interesting," I thought to myself. I wondered if Cody was there, and how it'd look if I showed up. Would I be scorned, welcomed or glanced over? Had he told his family about my supposed coke affair? Does Jeff Baker still sport a mustache? After 20 minutes or so of deliberation and a couple of beers I decided there was only one way to find out.
On with my sandals and off I went. A trek across the street to a fish fry. As I walked down the Baker's gravel driveway I felt an ominous sense of confidence. A couple who I will only describe as "fishing people" were walking up the driveway as I trekked down.
"Is Cody there?" I asked.
"Yeah bud, right there."
I thanked the nondescript fisherman and continued. Honestly, my entry beyond that point felt somewhat rape related. Everyone looked at me strangely, I kind of figured I wasn't welcome, yet I entered anyway. Baker rapist?
I strolled right up to Cody.  "Hey, how's it goin' "bahs" (his version of "boys," to this day I still don't know if it's a throwback to the slave terminology "boss") - I said.
His look was obvious from the start. He looked like he had seen a ghost. I won't say this had played into my hand - as for once, I had no agenda. Yet I had planned for this contingency on my short walk over anyhow. It was his party and he was totally panicking. Upon realizing my eventual boot I decided to pull a card out of a certain Kasey Kahne's playbook: sandbaggin' it.
He had said nothing at this point, he was sweating, looked extremely nervous and confused.
"Hey man... should I just leave? It's alright." I questioned, with an admittedly faux victim-of-the-moment tone. Knowing of course, that he was the most uncomfortable person there.
"I can just leave, if I'm intruding - no big deal man." I reiterated.
"Nah, just one sec, man." He struggled to say.
In the meanwhile I talked to a few of his friends who I told how long I'd known him and how we used to go fishing - both of which are true.
A minute or so later he stumbled up to me and said "Hey man, you wanna talk over here?" Insinuating there was some lonesome isolated position which didn't exist in actuality. I have to admit at this point I was kind of enjoying this charade.
"Where? 'Top o-the road? Cody, if you want me to leave, it's cool man, just give me a nod."
"Nah man, it ain't like that." He insisted.
"This is just kinda.."
"A family thing?" I finished his sentence with.
"Yeah! I mean, uh, no offense man."
"I wouldn't have expected any less, none taken."
And I left. My tail not between my legs but scorned nonetheless. Proud that I had simply showed my, drunken face, for some reason - although everyone there was far worse - and heavier.
This might been written a bit sooner if a certain character who I'll refer to as "Boom" didn't cahoot with an enemy, steal my title and then distract me with a new fighting game release.
Regardless I ended up walking down my driveway, listening to the Bakers party, not sure if I was the victor or victim of yet another...
Reality Check.

McGovern Player of the Finals - Game 1

A few brief notes before I get to the actual point break-downs for game 1. I was reading an article in Yahoo! sports before the game had began and for some reason on the sidebar which recommends similar articles that may be of interest, there was a random link to something like "Jonah Hill, longtime supporter of gays, apologizes for slur." I don't normally click on any entertainment related articles, however the placement of this one amongst sports articles piqued my curiosity enough to do so.
As per usual with any entertainment article it was written with over the top PC-ness and ridiculously in general. The entire thing described how Mr. Hill was goaded by a paparazzo who insulted his family into emitting some incredibly foul anti-gay slur. And Jonah (what a fucking terrible name - by the way) being overly apologetic regarding his behavior to the LGBT community. The article essentially danced around the situation while not listing the slur at hand. Eventually the term was revealed to be none other than faggot - yes.
I wasn't initially sure how I felt about this. I find Jonah Hill to be fat, worthless, terrible and I suspect the only way I'd laugh at him would involve his death. On the other hand, I liked what he said yet... he apologized - even if it was fake. I ended up deciding to continue disliking him anyway. I have yet to see him in anything good and his mere presence always seems to annoy me somehow.

On to the game:
* LeBron started out the game with -1 point because I didn't like the way he used the word "dog" in his pre-game team-huddle speech. It just sounded forced and terrible.

McGovern Player of the Game:

HEAT:***
R. Allen: +2, +1, -1, +2 (4)
Anderson: +1, +1
Bosh: +1, +1, +2, +1, +1 (6)
Chalmers: -1, -1, -1, +2 (-1)
Cole: +1
L. James: -1*, -1**, +1, +1, +2, +1, -3 (0)
Lewis: +1, +1
Wade: -1, +2, +1, +1, +1 (4)

Spurs:
Belinelli: -2
Diaw: +2, +1, +1, +1
Duncan: -1, +1, +1, +2, -1, +1 (3)
Ginobili: +1, +1, +1, +1, +1, +1, +1, -1, +1, +1 (8)
Green: -1, +1, -1, -1, +2, +1 (1)
K. Leonard: -1, -1, -1, -1, +1 (-3)
P. Mills: +1, +1
Parker: +1, +1, +1, -1, +2 (4)
Splitter: -1, -1, -1, -1, +1 (-3)

** Upon seeing and disliking the entirety of the Beats commercial - the athletes, celebrities and entertainers alike, I gave LBJ yet another -1 for his inclusion.
*** After the HEAT lost a game without AC, in the heat, I decided to detract another -1 from the entire team, giving them in actuality -1 to whatever their point total in parentheses lists. This could end up making a difference if any HEAT players end up with tied total games won, where the tiebreak is based on cumulative point total.

McGovern FAGGOT of the Game:
HEAT Fans: 0
M. Jackson: -1, +1, +1
Refs: -2, -1
J. Hill: -4, -2, -2

FAGGOT notes: (points in this category are almost always negative, positives coming when a participant, willingly or not, does something that pleases me temporarily)

A newcomer to this category; I never cared much for Mark Jackson as a commentator in general, but found him acceptable before his coaching tenure at Golden State I suppose. Since his return I've found most of his commentary to be utterly bland and to often ruin the flow of Jeff Van Gundy's poignant yet pragmatic commentary. This often provokes a pseudo playful banter between them, which I find entirely unbearable. Where Van Gundy and Jackson used to butt-heads with back and forth verbal jabs, now it seems as if Van Gundy is too nice and secedes a little too much. I could blame Van Gundy for this, however I suspect it's because of Jackson getting fired, then immediately coming back into the announcing crew basically the next day. I don't pity the fool who is pitied. His 2 positive points were for a well placed "He Got Game" Ray Allen reference and a comment that rightfully made Van Gundy sound like an idiot for being overly nice.

I've thought about putting the refs in this category for years and upon seeing a few calls I put them in sometime in the second quarter. No explanation necessary.

It was with annoyance and open arms that I saw Jonah Hill, the equally untalented Ice Cube - perhaps the worst rapper turned actor of all time slightly ahead of Ja Rule (because he was in a Seagal movie) - and another tool devoid of personality pop-up during the commercial breaks for the game, for a special unentertaining segment. I'll admit after reading the article earlier I actually laughed for a second upon immediately adding Jonah Hills name to the FAGGOT list, with an immediate -4. As of now I plan on subtracting 2 everytime I see one of those shitty crossover ads. Another deduction everytime a 22 Jumpstreet ad comes on isn't out of the spectrum of possibilities either.

A brief history of a timeline: The McGovern Player of the Finals.

Initially, I wanted to delay this 'til tomorrow when I would probably be more sober. I'll be the first to admit that sober, I'm a much better writer. A couple of things have happened since then have helped me not to dissuade myself from drunken typing, though.

As usual I took the decision out of my hands and left it to my dog and the Duel of Fates. I cranked the song up NASCAR style and decided the decision was on him. If he barked I write. So...
I'll start by mentioning that I don't like statistics in modern sports. I also don't like how statistics now seem to determine qualities that I believe are unquantifiable. Tennis is a great example of this. One can look at errors, unforced or not, winners, aces, etc. but have concept no of how the match was played.

From the age of 5, I had a neighborhood friend who would always play basketball with me in Connecticut. Probably because I had the best hoop in the neighboorhood but he would always pretend he was Jordan and I would always be Pippen. This probably predisposed me somewhat in my predilection for Scotty Pippen. I always felt he was dis-proportionally under-represented compared to MJ. When MJ left he was the first player in history (no not Oscar Robinson) to lead his team in every stat category. An ironic feat as I claim stats don't matter, yes.

Fast-forwarding to the year 1999. I had been gearing up to watch the NBA playoffs while playing NBA Hangtime. The N64 -better- version of the widely acclaimed NBA Jam. At the time I felt the game was racist because two huge white players who I felt were inconsequential kept denying me. Arvydas Sabonis and Bryant "Big Country" Reeves specifically. I started to hate the Blazers...

However as the '99 playoffs continued a couple of other factors helped change my tune. Bill Walton was one. I'll admit I didn't know he was a Blazer at the time but I still miss his "announcing" which consisted of him screaming passionately about random Blazer plays - almost all of which were great passes or blocks.
No NBA team has ever came back from an 0-3 deficit, however the Trailblazers were one of a few to do attempt the feat this year against my second most hated team at the time. The team was the Mavericks and my most hated player of the era - Dirk Nowitzki.

Sabonis played limited minutes at this point as his knees were awful and this was the end of his NBA career. That withstanding, he had easily the largest impact on the series of any player, other than Nowitzki, begrudgingly. Not only did his insertion to the line-up facilitate the 0-3 come back, it totally disrupted Nowitzki. Arvydas blocked him out and passed around him like a rag-doll. One play in particular, was the best pass I've ever witnessed.

When this happened live... there was a break. The Blazers ended up losing and no matter how much I claimed Sabonis was dominant - claiming the best +/- and efficiency per 48 mins (in the entire playoffs + .513 FG%) by a large margin I was unheard.

After much blowback from a bunch of haters regarding any opinion I had regarding the NBA I concluded that the popular appeal of professional sports had corrupted what it truly meant to be a great player. Highlights trumped results. Numbers topped names. Marketing overruled emotion. As a "true romantic" I had been labeled as at the time - I decided it was time to change the entire culture of sports. I desired an accolade based on the emotionally charged moment combined with the universal balance of timing. It was bourne. The most emotionally charged, utterly subjective, biased and opinionated accolade the world wanted but would never admit it wanted - yet judged on a point system. You often hear "haters gonna hate." Well, the McGovern player of the Finals could be described as "hater gonna rate."

The rules are simple: they're whatever I decide. They're fair, yet fluid. Every player is eligible to become a Player of the Finals (except Mike Miller). Their play is judged both on their finals play and their relative play-level compared to their average performance. This makes the system uniquely rewarding. Players like Shane Battier for instance - would never be eligible for a Finals MVP award - even if they step up and play 513% of their realistic aptitude. Is it fair if LeBron gets the Heat the finals and under-performs? No - which is why Shane Battier is a former McGovern Player of the Finals during the Heats first championship tenure.

Accolades aside, I feel the true beauty of my point system is in its adaptability. I award players normally +1-2 points based on their performance throughout the game. The adaptability comes into play because I simultaneously detract points for lack of performance. LBJ doesn't score for 5 game minutes: -1 point. Ray Allen misses two consecutive free throws - 2. Clutch free throws missed - 3 maybe. Ray Allen's game 6 winning shot vs the Spurs last year? +400. I specifically like that example as it's utterly ridiculous, yet I haven't met anyone who disagrees with it.

To boot: there is a separation of games aspect. Ray Allen for instance, won the highest point total for the aforementioned game (and any game) - with +406. However, he didn't win the player of the Finals, but Parker did. Parker had a higher point total in the other combined games. The number of games won determines the winner - a tactic the world cup seems to have adopted during the group stage. Recently was actually the first time in McGovern Player of the Finals history the award didn't go to a player from the winning team.

There are two sides to every coin, unfortunately. The downsides to the McGovern player of the Finals are apparent - and the blow back from the sports community "heavy-weights" are what you'd expect. Angry anti-progressive Yankee fans seem to really dislike the system specifically. Some of them have even gone so far as to destroy the archives in what I would only describe as a gluten-fueled jealous rage. Unfortunately, they merely fueled yet another evolution of the system.

For light, there must be darkness. The second face and subsequent phase of the McGovern player of the Finals has risen, like a phoenix. The McGovern FAGGOT of the Finals. It annoys me that I have to make this distinction, but I'm using FAGGOT as a general pejorative, not some anti-homosexual term. And this is where things get complicated.

McGovern players of the Finals is limited to players on the actual teams at hand. McGovern FAGGOT of the Finals, however, has no limits. It can be a person on the sideline making a facial expression I don't care for, a coach or an entire fan-base. It's pertinent to know Heat fans are the first ever 2-year consecutive champions of this category. Bandwagon pieces of shit at their worst. Yet, the total point leader of FAGGOT still resides with an opponent of the Heat. A mister Jason Terry. The year the Mavs beat the Heat he was actually in position to win his second player of the game award - when his post-game interview went sour... fast. He went from +12 points to -5,000,000. He remains the all-time leader in that category by a large margin over Mike Miller, at a mere -468.

Given the overwhelming response from both sides: I'm going to try to document this year's entire process online. I figured I'd give my readers a heads up in case the lawyers want to get involved. Specifically a certain lawyer who doesn't want a ...
Reality Check.