On the brink of their fifteenth title, the Los Angeles Lakers have finally realized their platonic form. During a playoffs in which Kobe Bryant has shot like an automaton from the perimeter, Pau Gasol proven he's more than a European softy and Lamar Odom overcome his (candy-driven?) inconsistency off the bench, the Lakers are playing like the deep, fluid team their roster says they are. By winning the first two at home, first with an epic 25-point smackdown, and then by surviving a volley of Rashard Lewis volley of threes, barring a collapse of epic proportions, the Lakers are poised to finish this season with an exclamation point.
And could it have been any other way? Sometimes, this is what playoff sports is about: watching the best team, often hated, dominate. Not every year gives us an upset, a feel-good story about unpretentious, underachieving coaches, emerging stars, teams that utilize a unique style-of-play. Instead, we have the best coach, the love-him-or-hate-him legend, the conventionally great squad, and guess what? They are probably going to walk from here to the championship.
This Laker team never reeked of invincibility, but at the same time I can't say I ever really thought they would lose a series. For every moment their toughness was questioned, they bounced back and played winning basketball. No player ever appeared a deadly deficiency on either end of the court, and when it came to close they had the man to do it. As a Laker hater it's never been fun to watch, but at this point I've come to terms with the meaning of their championship: the best team in basketball is about to win a title.
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