Entry 5:

G'morning Chas,

Topic the first: Bobby Jackson, the Kings' off-the-bench catalyst. Love the fearlessness, the Slick Watts head, and those old bluesman's eyes, unchanged since he took Minnesota to the Final Four back when Clem Haskins was running a plagiarism shop up in the Twin Towns. Peja Stojakovic is relatively replaceable, but without Bobby Jax—I hear he cut a deal with the devil at some dusty crossroads for that first step—the Lakers sweep this series.

Topic the second: Who Else But? One of these days some suit in AOL Time Warner will wake up with the flop sweats and "get good separation," as the Hubie Browns of the world say, between Charles Barkley and a live microphone. But as long as we've got him, it's worth staying up late weeknights. Best moment in TNT's broadcast last night—better even than Kevin Harlan's voice going all Van Earl Wright when he said, of Shaq, "He has no regard for human life inside!"—was Barkley on Robert (That's "Orry" to Us) Horry, whose name he insists on mispronouncing "Whorry": "He owns these foreign guys from Sacramento like shoes." That was classic Charles: Throw a guy a compliment, but toss in a little schoolyard mockery along the way.

I'm sorry, but I'll forgive Barkley virtually anything he does. I realize that makes me Michael Lewis to his John McCain, but the guy has that kind of ability to disarm. (For an 18-year-old picture of Charles, then a sophomore at Auburn, seducing yours truly over Charles' favorite meal, click here.) I still remember watching Barkley during the 1983-84 season at an Auburn-Alabama basketball game, where John Glenn, then running for president, turned up to work the crowd. Someone brought the two together after the game, and everyone knew then that the senator from Ohio had no chance of getting out of the primary: The kid had a wider smile, a firmer handshake, and a better way of reaching people.

As long as we're institutionalizing the nickname the Big Aristotle, we might as well revisit the one time I've actually heard Shaq on matters Hellenic. Seems that he had just returned from an NBA off-season trip to Greece when someone asked him whether he'd visited the Parthenon. His reply: "Oh, man, I can't remember all the clubs we went to." As you say, a very funny man.

Can we start calling Yao Ming "the Shootin' Confucian"?

Best swishes,
Alex