On the other hand, here's why the Hawks are still not quite ready to mount a legitimate challenge for a championship:

Here's a chronological rundown of how ultimately ineffective the Hawks were in the clutch:

The Hawks athleticism and overall feistiness make them a dangerous ballclub. But to move up to the next level, they need Smith to fully regain his chops, a dependable post-up scorer and a quicker point guard.

However, it bodes well for the future that the Hawks already have many more top-level components than they lack. A good indication of just how mature this team really is will be how/if they recover from this aggravating loss in their next game — at home versus the Warriors on Friday.

In any event, with astute draft selections, trades, and/or free agent signings, Atlanta is perhaps two years away from becoming one of the league's elite teams.

Vox Populi

Who would you rather hang out with, Jerry Garcia or Michael Jordan, and why? — Renato Rodriguez, Portland, OR

Over the years, I've attended dozens of concerts that featured Garcia — the Grateful Dead, the Jerry Garcia Band, Old and in the Way and the New Riders of the Purple Sage. I must also confess to having been a Tape Head in my younger days, while continuing to be somewhat interested in bootleg Dead CDs.

At the same time, I've eyeballed well over a thousand professional basketball games — NBA, CBA, ABA and USBL — as well as many practice sessions thereof.

While I still consider myself a student of the pro game, my exposure to Garcia's music was strictly from the outside-in. If I can understand the coach's alphabet of Xs and Os, I cannot read music.

So, then I would love (would have loved) to hang with Captain Trips in order to explore his mind, his music and his personal experiences in the rock/bluegrass subculture.

But lounging around in His Airness' court isn't exactly a bad alternative.

Straight Shooting

All-sports radio stations are generally interested in controversial topics, which is fine by me. However, several stations in New York City have recently stoked the fiery opinions of local basketball fans by putting this question up for grabs: Who was the Knicks' greatest all-time center, Patrick Ewing or Willis Reed?

But the question in itself is totally absurd.

Ewing always played hard, and in that sense, he was indeed a warrior. But he was also a choker, one of the most selfish players ever, a reluctant defender and totally clueless about the fine points of the game. His so-called "greatness" is based on his numbers, his longevity in New York and mostly on media hype.

Reed, on the other hand, was also a warrior. The difference being that he was dynamite in the clutch, played ferocious defense, set stalwart screens, was willing to sacrifice his own stats for the good of the team and was the epitome of heart — the Knicks' captain courageous.

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

Anybody who believes that Ewing was superior to Reed is only revealing his own unknowing.

Travels with Charley

The first coaching job I ever had was directing the fortunes of the Veraldi Junior High School team in Middletown, N.Y. The young men were a joy to work with — Dickie Fields, Paul Sardella, Jimmy Darling, Jimmy Elia, Emilio Estevez and Jon Peterson, to name only those whose identities my leaky memory can still summon.

At our initial team meeting held the day before practice was scheduled to commence, I laid down some rules. The one I emphasized the most was the absolute necessity of being on time to every team function.

"If you're late to practice," I said, "even one minute late, you'll run laps until your tongue drags on the floor. And no excuses of any sort will be tolerated."

OK. They seemed to be suitably impressed.

However, everybody was on time for our opening practice except for Peterson. We began our warm-ups and drills, and after about 15 minutes, he made his appearance — all red-faced and sweating and holding a piece of paper for me to read.

"No excuses," I insisted, waving off the paper. "Start running." Which he did, and with commendable vigor.

We continued some drills, walked through the basics of our offense and went through a controlled half-court and then full-court scrimmage. It was during the up-and-down scrimmage that something caught my eye — after at least an hour, Peterson was still doggedly running his laps.

I had completely forgotten about him!

"OK," I said, with as much nonchalance as I could muster. "That's enough."

Needless to say, none of the kids was ever late again.