Three months ago, I posted a glowing tribute to a mesomorphic superstar guard from the Miami Heat. (Yes, a superstar. I don't dole that word out commonly or easily either. To wit, there are only three superstars in the league right now:
(That's it. Everybody else are stars and great players. Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce, Ray Allen...nope. They are the product of synergy. Together, they are superstars. Apart? Not so sure. Shaq, no mas. Amar'e, uh-uh. Chris Paul and Dwight Howard are on the cusp, but they are not there yet. I'm of the mind that a superstar has to lead his team to the finals at least once. What about Dirk then, you ask? My views on this have been stated before, but I'll just be curt: Puh-lease. Until Dwight does that, he's this generation's version of David Robinson.)
Saturday night was another one for the ages, as he slapped a 24-point fourth quarter (which is the second-most impressive quarter this season behind Melo's 33-point gem earlier this season.
Need I say anymore.