College basketball? I couldn't care less

Meanwhile, the skill level of NBA players continues to astound me. The NBA coaches and refs (ugh!) are far superior to their college equivalents. Pro offenses actually create spaces and angles that lead directly to shots. Pro defenses actually squeeze spaces and shut down angles that lead directly to misses.

Also, because of the continuity (and length) of NBA seasons (and players' careers), the strategies are infinitely more subtle. And the college kids certainly don't play with any more passion that NBA playoff teams do.

Indeed, the college game and the pro game are like soft-boiled and hard-boiled eggs — made of the same basic substance but profoundly different in form.

But, hey, let the boys have their fun. And let the once-a-year bettors sweat over their tournament picks.

Once the ripples in the wading pool subsides, there'll be time enough for discerning fans to watch the big boys ride the big waves.

Game Time: Cavaliers 90, Raptors 83

Toronto has difficulty beating good teams when Chris Bosh is off his feet. Even though Bosh's numbers were adequate in his second game back from his injury — 7-18, 6 rebounds, 24 points — he was understandably inconsistent throughout and was never a factor.

Still, barring any further physical setbacks, Bosh will do as Bosh has always done. That is, function as a quasi-reliable go-to scorer.

If Bosh isn't really a problem, the Raptors are certainly faced with a dilemma in their backcourt. Who should they commit to as their point guard of the future? Jose Calderon? Or T.J. Ford?

Here's how the Raps' two trigger-men compared in the game at hand:

Offense

Calderon displayed much more control than did Ford, not forcing any running situations, and avoiding madcap forays into the paint.

Toronto's offense is in good hands with Jose Calderon. (Mark Duncan / Associated Press)

Meanwhile, Ford pushed the ball at a more rapid pace, but overhandled on four occasions, producing two missed shots and a pair of deflections that luuckily maintained possession for Toronto.

Both had identical success on their jump shooting — 3-7 — with Ford unleashing the only airball on a pull-up 17-footer.

Calderon drove-and-kicked three times, generating three points. Ford dribbled and passed four times, creating two points.

In addition to his three assists, Calderon's passwork generated 11 open shots that his teammates missed. Ford had three of these.

Calderon was able to finish twice — once on a fast break, and once after turning the corner on a high screen/roll. Ford was never able to complete any of his drives with a layup of his own.

Calderon's entry passes into posted teammates were much more effective than were Ford's.

Calderon set four hard-bodied screens, whereas Ford set none.

Calderon made no discernible mistakes in directing the offense. In addition to his penchant for pounding the ball into the floor, Ford erred in not shooting a pull-up in the third quarter with the shot clock about to buzz. Instead he juked around with the ball, plunged into the paint and shot a floater that came about two ticks too late.

Advantage: Calderon

Defense

Calderon made one misplay — not running all-out in a first-quarter transition and thereby permitting Delonte West to score a layup-plus-one. Ford was constantly burned when he wandered too far away from Damon Jones in futile attempts to help on LeBron James. As a result, Jones knocked down a pair of triples.

When Ford turned his head on defense, Jones was free to drop a 20-footer.

If Calderon was efficient in closing out perimeter shooters, Ford was not. He either arrived late, not at all or with a bang that sent Jones to the stripe.

Calderon was strong enough to beat West to a high screen/roll and then body him off his route. Meanwhile, Ford was run over repeatedly as though he was made of straw. And in the brief time that Calderon and Ford shared the court, Devin Brown quickly took Ford into the low post and scored on an easy turnaround jumper.

Overall, Calderon yielded a total of three points in head-to-head confrontations (all of them to West), while Ford was victimized for a total of 13 points (11 by Jones and two by Brown).

Advantage: Calderon

To clinch Calderon's advantage, the Raps were plus-six when he was on the court, and minus-13 when Ford was there.

On the basis of this game, as well as the past several weeks, it's clear that Toronto is much better off with Calderon getting the starter's minutes. Even more so considering how easily Ford could re-injure his spine. Ford would, however, make an excellent backup, one whose speed and ability to stop-and-pop could provide a dramatic change of pace with the second unit.

Too bad the chances of Ford accepting this kind of diminished role are nil.

Simply put, along with their other needs — like a powerhouse big man, and a creative wing — Ford must be traded and Calderon must be resigned for the Raptors to ever challenge the Pistons, Celtics, Magic and Cavs for supremacy in the East.

With all of Ford's physical vulnerabilities, it will undoubtedly be much easier to re-up Calderon than to find a new home for T.J. Even so, the Raps will in deep trouble if there's a Ford in their future.

Straight Shooting

Amare Stoudemire is at it again, reprising his Rodney Dangerfield refrain. Poor fellow, he doesn't get any respect — especially, so he says, from the media.

Amare Stoudemire wonders why others don't think he's MVP-worthy. (Sam Forencich / Getty Images)

Apparently the millions in his bank account, his multiple All-Star game appearances, and his high-end stats fail to move him. What he really wants is for the NBA scribes, as well as the radio, TV and internet critics to bow their heads and spread rose petals before his feet.

Apparently he thinks he's better than Tim Duncan.

Apparently he thinks he should be this season's MVP.

Apparently he thinks that a niche should be reserved for him in the Hall of Fame.

While there's certainly no doubt that Stoudemire is a colossal talent, it's unseemly for him to be blowing his horn in such an annoyingly insistent fashion. Oh well, at least his current grousing is different than the complaints he used to voice about not getting enough shots.

In any case, Stoudemire would be much better off learning how to play defense when his man doesn't have the ball. Helping to propel the Suns into at least the NBA finals would also help his argument. But perhaps the biggest improvement he could make during the upcoming playoffs would be to wear a seat-belt when he's on the bench.

In other words: How about shutting your mouth, Amare, and opening up your game?

Travels with Charley

The best defensive point guard that I ever coached was Bruce Douglas out of Illinois. He was 6-3, 195, and a veteran of eight games with the 1986-87 Sacramento Kings when he joined the Rockford Lightning the following season.

Douglas had incredibly quick hands and feet, tremendous defensive range and uncanny anticipation. During his 98-minute NBA career, he posted nine steals and 17 assists — not unsubstantial totals given such limited daylight.

However, Bruce's major flaw was his inability to shoot the ball. He was 7-24 (29.2 percent) from the field with the Kings, plus 0-4 from the stripe. A minor failing was his frequent carelessness with the ball — nine turnovers.

In the CBA, however, Douglas was a dynamic and unsurpassed defender. Even so, Freddie Cofield was a better all-around player, leader, shooter and clutch scorer — so Douglas came off the bench.

I can recall an extraordinary game in which the Lightning hosted our arch foes, the Quad City Thunder, midway through the 1987-88 season. With only 6:22 left in the game, we were down by 26 points. But with Douglas running wild — stealing, deflecting, shot-blocking — we wound up winning the game in regulation.

No lie!

Still, I had to cut Douglas about two weeks later.

Why?

Because he never stopped bitterly complaining about the lack of shots that our offense provided for him. Which moved him to fire up long jumpers at every opportunity.

"Bruce," I'd say to him. "You're taking bad shots and you're missing them. Believe me, you're not going to shoot your way back into the NBA."

"You don't understand, Coach," was his riposte. "I've got to prove that I'm really a good shooter."

"No, it's you who doesn't understand. All you're doing is proving that you're a bad shooter."

He just shrugged and kept firing blanks.

His defense was so exceptional, however, that I could easily live with his ill-advised shot selection. But when he began fomenting discord by ruthlessly badmouthing all of his teammates to anybody who would listen, then I had to cut him loose.

Too bad. If only he had accepted his limitations (as well as his strengths), Bruce Douglas would have had a long and productive NBA career.

I wonder where he is these days.