So, then, what are the missing parts?

And which players represent the viable core of the team?

Jefferson, Gomes, Foye, McCants, and by default, Love.

To quote P. Pig, "That's all, folks!"

Straight shooting

The symbiotic relationship between certain players and coaches is always intriguing. A perfect match of personalities, of skills and system, of time and place.

2009 NBA Finals

Sunday's Game 5

• Lakers 99, Magic 86 (Lakers win 4-1)

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FOXSports.com analysis

• Playoff results, schedule
• 2009 NBA Playoff Central
• Rosen: Why the Lakers won
• Behrendt: L.A's title sequence
• Rosenberg: Kobe not done yet
• Tomasson: Kobe proves critics wrong
• Feigen: Jackson in class of his own

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Video

• Postgame: Lakers celebrate 15th title
• Postgame: Kobe leads Lakers to title
• Postgame: Magic discuss Finals loss
• Marques Johnson's NBA Finals recap

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Photos

• NBA Finals, Game 5 | 4 | 3 | 2 | 1

Looking back over Phil Jackson's championship squads in Chicago and Los Angeles, only Steve Kerr, Robert Horry, and Shaq achieved a high degree of success after they went elsewhere. Meanwhile, the likes of Horace Grant, Scottie Pippen, Luc Longley, Toni Kukoc, B. J. Armstrong, and the ghost of MJ never played as well in other uniforms. Nor has Jackson won a title since Shaq and Horry departed.

The same thing appears to be happening with Mike D'Antoni and Steve Nash. When they were both in Phoenix, D'Antoni's run-and-gun style was tailor-made for Nash. Before Nash arrived in Phoenix, he'd evolved into a solid if not spectacular player for Dallas. Before D'Antoni was able to put the ball in Nash's hands, his lifetime NBA record was 35-76. Once they were united, Nash had unlimited room, ball-time, and license to create, and became a two-time MVP -- and D'Antoni was Coach of the Year.

But now the partnership is defunct.

D'Antoni's Knicks trail only the Lakers in team scoring, are dead last in points allowed, and win just about as many games as they lose. If Chris Duhon is grossly underrated, he's an unreasonable facsimile of Nash. Also, with the recent trades, D'Antoni faces at least two frustrating seasons while the Knicks hibernate and hope that LeBron James can bring springtime back to New York.

Trouble is that in the NBA, the future is now, and tomorrow is a million miles away. Betting the mortgage on something that may or may not happen in two years more often than not leads to bankruptcy. So D'Antoni can only dream of duplicating the successes he had with the Suns. Even so, he can probably look forward to coaching in the league for at least another 25 years.

Meanwhile, with Shaq ensconced in the lane, Nash's options in Phoenix are severely limited. No room to drive, no room for quick cutters and quick-hitting screen/rolls. Moreover, with the middle closed and Shaq no longer capable of attracting double-teams, defenders are also able to cramp the Suns 3-point shooters.

Of course the season is still in its infancy, but it's no surprise that all of Nash's numbers are down, and he's become just another "good" point guard. And as he approaches his 35th birthday, Nash is rapidly facing the end of his career.

Although the Suns never made it to the Finals, the Nash-D'Antoni partnership sure was fun while it lasted.

Vox Populi

I hear/read all the time that Kobe is a great shooter, yet he only shoots 44-45 percent in an age when it is supposedly easier to score. Is he really a great shooter? If so, why is his field-goal percentage so relatively low? — Brian Singer, New York

A lefty jumper over Yao Ming? No wonder Kobe's shooting 45.2 percent this season -- 45.3 career. (Noah Graham/NBAE / Getty Images)

Kobe is indeed a great shooter, but his problem is his penchant for taking too many bad shots — as many as 5-7 each game. Even now, as the Lakers lead the league in scoring and winning percentage, Kobe continues to abort the triangle offense in favor of forcing shots in just about every situation and from every angle. The fact that he makes so many of these ill-advised shots, and in such sensational fashion, obscures his perpetual habit of playing Kobe Ball.

Even so, he remains the best non-center on the planet.

Travels with Charley

In the CBA, Thanksgiving on the road was always a nightmare. Here's just one example:

We arrived in Moline, Ill., on Thanksgiving eve, the day before we were scheduled to play the Tri-City Thunder. Most of the players in the league were extremely friendly, having previously crossed paths in college competition, common home towns, summer leagues, preseason NBA camps, and/or on other professional teams -- so the host team gladly opened their homes and their parties to visiting players.

Coaches were not nearly as friendly. Especially the Thunder's Mauro Panaggio and me, who had a history of public confrontations both verbal and physical.

So I was left to my own resources at an old, drafty hotel with some kind of Nordic theme. Without a car and with the weather too cold to be roaming around a strange city, I stayed in my room, read, watched TV, read, napped, and read some more. My Thanksgiving luncheon was a buffet consisting of dried pieces of salmon, chewy turkey, and tasteless trimmings.

Whatever.

As long as we beat Pannagio.

The game turned out to be fiercely contested, and my guys played their hearts out. It all came down to this: The score was tied and the Thunder had possession with only 10 ticks left on the game clock. A.J. Wynder was a solid player and all-around nice guy who was destined to have a cup of coffee with the Celtics -- and he was totally in control of the situation as he brought the ball upcourt.

In the previous timeout, I had called for a tight, switching defense, and warned my players to ignore fakes, stay on the floor, and, since we were already over the limit, avoid fouls.

However, even before Wynder crossed the time-line, his defender (who shall remain nameless because he, too, was a terrific player and a wonderful person) deliberately fouled him!

Say what!

Wynder calmly sank both free throws and, of course, our last ditch effort to tie the game ended up with the wrong guy taking the wrong shot and slamming a brick off the backboard.

I went berserk in the post-game locker room, especially after the fouler offered no viable excuse. He was a shy young man, and was actually one of my favorite players. No, he hadn't misread the scoreboard, or misunderstood my instructions, or anything. It just "happened," he shrugged. "I don't know why."

When I got back to my hotel room, I called the league office and unceremoniously cut the offending player.

Leaving the two of us with precious little to be thankful for.

The only good news was that I re-signed him a week later.