24th August 2008.  Beijing.  Rudy Fernandez of Spain stuns observers by lighting up a team of NBA All-Stars.  With 22 points on 13 shots in only 17 minutes, Fernandez did not limit himself to scoring, adding some good defensive plays and some fine passing.  Nor, despite going 5 for 9 from distance, was his scoring limited to outside shooting.  In one stunning moment, Rudy slashed to the hoop, met the oncoming Dwight Howard, and posterized the All-Star center.  That moment is now known as “The Dunk Heard Round the World”, and the fallout from that dunk goes on this week in NBA cities.

Scene:  the offices of a very successful Western Conference team

The GM picks up the phone to find his owner on the line, raving about the gold medal game.

Owner:  “Did you see that Rudy guy, his shooting and his dunk?”

GM: “Yes, sir, I did see that.”

Owner:  “Could we get his rights from Portland?  Can you imagine him in our backcourt with a premier PG, helping spread the court for our big men?”

GM:  “I can’t imagine Portland letting him go now.”

Owner:  “Too bad.  Oh, well, he’d probably mess up our cap situation.  We don’t want to pay too much luxury tax.”

GM:  “Actually, he’s only a #24 pick, on rookie scale for the next four years.  The cost would be very low.”

Owner:  “That’s not fair, with all the money Paul Allen has.”

GM:  “Actually, a year ago his rights could have been had for only $3 million.  Allen put up the money, and there you go.”

Owner:  “Only $3 million for the rights to a guy like that?  Why did they sell to Portland, of all teams?  Why didn’t we do that deal instead?”

GM:  “We did do that deal, Mr. Sarver.  We did do that deal.”

Scene: the practice complex of an NBA team in the Midwest

The GM walks into the locker room to find his newest acquisition on the floor, huddled into the fetal position, repeating the words over and over, “Now I know, now I know, now I know….”

The GM takes him by the shoulder, and shakes him.  “Man, are you ok?  Snap out of it!  What’s wrong?”

The player looks up at him, and says, “Now I know, Mr. Bird.  Now I know why Portland traded me away.”

Scene:  the office of an NBA executive on the East Coast

The coach walks in.  He says, “It was a great year, but if we are going to build on it and continue, we need depth.  Our key guys are getting old, and we are so thin.’

The GM says, ‘We have no cap space.  There just isn’t much we can do.’

The coach says, “Fernandez wouldn’t take much cap space.  You saw what he can do.  Imagine him coming off OUR bench.”

The GM responds, “But we can’t get him.  Portland owns him, and they aren’t trading.”

The coach responds, “But Mr. Ainge, a year ago Phoenix would have gladly sold his rights to a struggling Eastern team, rather than a rising Western opponent.  Why didn’t you buy him then?”

Crickets chirp.

Scene:  the office of agent Sandee Westgate

The phone rings, and Westgate’s most famous client is on the line.

Player:  “You saw Fernandez.  You saw what he did.”

Westgate:  “Yes, he’s got game.”

Player:  “Portland’s stacked, they'll be stacked forever.  If we’re lucky, we win it this year and then they dominate until long after I retire.”

Westgate:  “Yeah.  They’ve got cap space next year, too.”

Player:  “That’s why I’m calling.  I could opt out next year.  I want championships.  Lots of them.  They’ve got cap space.  Lots of it.  I could be a free agent.”

Westgate:  “They’ve got Roy AND Fernandez at the 2.  It wouldn’t work.”

Player:  “I can play the 3.  Everyone knows I can.  It will work.  Call them.”

Westgate:  “I can't talk to them until you are a free agent.  You have to opt out first.”

Player:  “Just feel them out.”

Westgate hears a click and a dead line, and mutters, “They don’t want your type in Portland, and I don’t blame them,” but dutifully dials Kevin Pritchard.

Westgate:  “You know who I am.”

KP:  “Of course.”

Westgate:  “Now, it's delicate and confidential.”

KP:  “Certainly, if that is what you want.”

Westgate:  “It's just a possible scenario.  Suppose I represented a superstar on a team to the south.  Suppose he saw how your new guy played, and all the phenomenal young talent you have, and he wanted to win lots of championships.  Now, he plays shooting guard, but really, he could play small forward.  Suppose he told me he’d love to go play small forward on a championship team.  Now, suppose he knew that you have lots of cap space next year, and he was thinking about opting out of his contract next year because of that.  What would you think about that type of situation?”

After a long pause, KP says, “You asked this to be confidential, but this kind of conversation really would involve Nate, Tom Penn, and especially Mr. Allen.  You don’t mind if I conference them in, do you?”

Westgate, rather surprised that this would even be considered: “Well, no, no, of course not.”

A couple of minutes later, the conference call is set up with all participants, and Westgate gives the same story.  It is silent for a moment, and then Westgate hears, “Heh-heh,” and then another laugh, and then guffaws of laughter come down the phone line, louder and louder.  Then, there is a click, and the line goes dead.

After a few minutes, Westgate picks up the phone.

“Hi, Kobe?  They really appreciated the idea, I could hear it in their voices.  But Paul Allen knows he’s going to have to give max contracts to 3 players, maybe even four counting Rudy, and he doesn’t want to take on another one.  And they wouldn’t think of insulting you by offering less.  Sorry.”

Scene:  The home of Brandon Roy

The phone rings, and Brandon picks it up.

Roy:  “Hi, coach, welcome home, and congratulations.  What a great game.”

Nate:  “Thanks, Brandon, it was great.”

Roy:  “Coach, we need to talk.  We’ve got to be able to get Rudy on the court.”

Nate:  “I know, Brandon.  He brought the ball up some, even against pressure.  Perhaps he’ll play some point.”

Roy:  “Coach, I can defend small forwards.  I know I can.”

Nate:  “We’ll do some of that, too, Brandon, I’m sure we will.”

Roy:  “Coach, we’re going to be good.  Really good.  Really, really, really good.”

Nate:  “Brandon, let’s not talk about that.  Let’s just do it.”

Scene:  NBA offices

David Stern's secretary walks into his office with a piece of paper.  He says, "What's this?" 

She responds, "Mr. Stern, it's a petition.  Signed by 12 Western Conference owners."

He says, "What do they want this time?"

"Well, sir," she responds, "they are petitioning the EU to investigate the Portland Trailblazers, since they have several European players now.  Basically, they're asking the EU Competition Commission to determine whether the Blazers have violated "Fair Trading Standards", and whether they are establishing an illegal talent monopoly."  She pauses, and says, "They thought you would want to know."

Scene: somewhere in Idaho

The blogger sits in his pajamas in his mother’s basement, staring at the computer.  Over and over, The Dunk Heard Round the World plays in front of him.  Finally he snaps out of it, and goes back and reviews what he wrote just a few days before, comparing Rudy Fernandez and Jerryd Bayless.

“Jerryd is straight ahead at you.  Rudy dips around.” 

He flips back to the video, and watches Rudy dunk in Dwight Howard’s face.  He mutters, “How am I going to spin my way out of this one?  ‘Dips around’ vs. ‘straight ahead at you’?  Was I an idiot to type that, or what?”

He reads on.  “Jerryd likes to score off of the dribble.  Rudy can catch and shoot.”  He watches the video of Rudy driving for the dunk again, and then the between the legs, step back and pop move, and says to himself, “OK, OK, I didn’t say Rudy CAN’T score off the dribble, I just said that he CAN catch and shoot.”  He wipes his brow, and mutters to himself, “I can't believe I wrote that, either.”

“Jerryd is aggressive.  Rudy is sneaky.  Jerryd will hit you hard.  Rudy will annoy you until you hit him.”  The blogger sighs, and looks at the dunk again.  And again.  And again.  He sighs again, and says to himself, “Well, it was a clever line.  Too clever."  He watches the dunk again, shakes his head, and says, "Sneaky.  Doesn't hit you hard."  He grins, and says, "Howard did hit him, though, and he was probably annoyed.  Oh, well."

Back to his blog.  “Need some more offensive flow?  You go with Rudy.  Fourth quarter is here and the team isn’t getting to the cup aggressively enough?  Hello Jerryd.”  The blogger cringes, and watches The Dunk again.  “Yeah, Rudy is not the guy to go aggressively enough to the cup.  What am I going to do?”

Back to the text:  “For now I don’t think Nate will have a lot of trouble figuring out which one to call in a given situation.”  The blogger sighs, and says, “Well, that was probably true, anyway.”

He pauses, sits and looks at his computer.  He goes back and plays the dunk again.  And again.  Finally, the inspiration comes.

“I’VE GOT IT!” he yells, waking up the household.  His mom yells down the stairs, “You’re down there in your pajamas again in the middle of the night?  Why don’t you go to bed?”

The blogger isn't listening.  He has his solution.  He's a blogger, after all.  He’ll just change the subject.  He'll post on Rudy’s absence in the first quarter, and start a controversy over whether all 12 players on the U.S. team are better than Rudy (an eminently debatable proposition, no one can call him a fool whichever side he takes).  People will just forget. 

Forget that he said a 19 year old would contribute more this year than a guy who can light up the Redeem Team.  Forget the dumb things he said comparing the two of them.  Forget it all.  They’re all too excited about The Dunk Heard Round the World (and all the other shots heard round the world) to care that much, anyway.

Most of them, that is.  There’s a few out there who will remember, and will throw it in his face.  There’s always a few like that.  He shrugs, types up his next blog, and posts it.  Then, he watches the dunk several more times, with a big grin on his face.  Now he can enjoy it.  Over and over again.

Then, he gets dressed, and goes home to his wife and baby.  This blogging in pajamas in Mom’s basement is a drag, but rules are rules.