May the Fear of Justice Shake Thee, O Alonso

Only now that the tempest has passed may we look fondly on the warm shores of our fair island, recalling with great wonder the works that this modern Prospero divined. The basketball armageddon that is Stephen Jackson is gone for now. Regardless of whether we remain in the eye of the torrent, or if the wake of his storm has passed entirely, it is of the utmost urgency we take this brief reprieve to speak of what was witnessed.

It is time to name Stephen Jackson the BODDASSCUBR MVP of basketball.

If you are looking for a more plebeian MVP of the NBA, the answer is most certainly Tim Duncan. And it has been for the past 5 years. Duncan is the greatest low-post player of his generation, and perhaps of all time. (Apologetic nods to Hakeem, McHale and of course Luc.) If your end is a trophy, then Duncan is clearly the means.

While Duncan and the Spurs quest for another title goes on, the chance to see any inspirational basketball ended with the Suns, the Warriors and Tracy McGrady's emotional losses. Which makes it all the more important that we lay out the case for this year's MVP:


The Basketball Reasons

1) The Title-belt Theory: Jackson flat out stole the MVP title from its current holder, Dirk Nowitzki. Much like the UFC's new welterweight champion Matt Serra, Jackson threw personal history aside and beat the best when the best stepped into the ring. Nowitzki went into the series averaging 25 points per game. Statistics say Jackson's dogged defense dropped the big German to 19 points per game, but we can't remember more than 3 shots Nowitzki made during the entire series.

When he cares to focus at all, Jackson can lay waste to the best in sport.

2) Three-Pointers to Turnovers ratio: In the Dallas series, Jackson shot an insane 48% from behind the arc, while also averaging a ridiculously high 3.8 turnovers per game. Each fearless contribution to his team's point total was negated by a reckless, but aesthetically breathtaking turnover.

This is a true benchmark of a man riding the line between dangerously loose and purely out-of-control. Like an author who arduously pens a great work of literature, only to burn the manuscript after a night of consuming bottom rail spirits. A sure sign that Jackson is a kindred BODDASSCUBR spirit.

3) The Spurs: A Retrospective: During his 2003 stint with the NBA champion Spurs, Jackson was notorious for bringing the ball up court by his lonesome, taking a few dribbles and tossing up an ill-advised 3-pointer. Bear in mind his teammates were (a) Duncan - the best player alive (b) Parker - a top-10 point guard in the league already (c) Ginobili - a shooting guard having one of the best post-seasons of the new millennium. To blatantly ignore the absolute prowess of each of these men was akin to:

- Today's investor saying: "Screw sub-prime mortgages and the real estate bubble. Put all of my capital in domestic real estate. Now."

- or -

- Starting to talk trash to a man in a bar, then saying to yourself "You know, I think I'm going to wait until all of my friends leave and 10 more of that guy's friends show up. Then I'm going to walk over there and punch him in the face."

But you know the catch? Jackson kept making those 3-pointers. The Spurs wouldn't have won a title without him. He's the guy who somehow wins that 10-on-1 barfight. He's the guy that makes 50% APY on domestic real estate in the current market.

Other Social Factors:

1) The Melee: Jackson was the second man into the crowd during the Artest-Detroit riot. Second in, but first in craziness. A lessor-known fact is that after the brawl had settled, Jackson broke free of security in the locker room and ran back toward the court to further egg on the crowd. Like a WWF wrestling villain. But real. And serious.

2) Guns and Friends: In the spring of 2007, Jackson and a few teammates got into a physical disagreement with a group of dissenting gentlemen in the parking lot of an Indiana strip club at 3:00 a.m. Jackson was arrested for firing shots into the air after one man punched him in the face and another man ran him over with a car. Say what you will, but we're more concerned about the guy who gets run over and says "That's cool. I'm not going to fire my 9mm in the air."

Ultimately, we know not when Jackson will return. He will be back physically next fall. But that is no guarantee that the fiercely dominant Jackson of today will return to declare a manifest destiny of havoc on the NBA's flotilla of Lilliputians.

Jackson may never take enough interest in basketball again to craft victory out of steely pain and brilliant skill. His mind wanders already. And perhaps that is what makes him the most BODDASSCUBR athlete of our generation.

The realm of infinite possiblities lies at his fingertips, but Jackson cares not. To have all the talent in the world and to let it slip away just as Prospero and his author once did - It is the true epitome of the message we speak.