2011-2012 NBA MVP Race:

3. Kevin Love (+1200)
Fact: Love is averaging 26.5 points and 13.6 rebounds with 45/39/82 shooting splits right now. This seems impossible, I know. I checked five times. It’s definitely true.

Fact: Neither Tim Duncan, Kevin Garnett, Charles Barkley, Chris Webber, Larry Bird nor Karl Malone ever averaged 27 points and 13 rebounds per game in the same season.

Fact: Love’s low-post game has really turned into something special. He can make 20-foot stepbacks, jump hooks or up-and-unders. He can back guys down and get easy five-footers. He can pull bigger guys away from the hoop and shoot 3s over them. And if you double-team him, he’s one of the best low-post passers we have.

Fact: I’m not a giant fan of adjusted plus-minus stats, especially for individual players, but it’s worth mentioning that Minnesota averages about 107 points per 100 possessions when Love plays and about 97 points per 100 when he sits (one of the highest discrepancies in the league). Check out this really confusing and über-dorky page for more details.14

Fact: Even after Minnesota’s inspiring postseason run was derailed by Kobe pulling a Bernard Pollard on Ricky Rubio’s right knee,15 Love simply refused to allow them to stink — and by the way, when the rest of your top eight is Luke Ridnour, JJ Barea, Nik Pekovic, Darko Milicic, Mike Beasley, Martell Webster and Wesley “What Happened to Me????” Johnson, you stink — averaging a Moses-at-his-apex-like 31 and 15 for the month of March. 31 and 15???????? Sorry, I have to swear … ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME???16

Fact: Love sent an Oklahoma City game into overtime two weeks ago by posting up 25 feet from the basket, sealing his guy off, then draining a buzzer-beating stepback 3 that was so blatantly ripped off from Larry Bird that he should have just worn a blond permafro wig. If you’re ripping off the Legend successfully, you have my attention.

Fact: Watching Love and Rubio run high screens was my single favorite thing about this season. They were on another level of … everything. It was just sublime. I can’t tell you how much I loved it. It was basketball porn. DVDs of Love-Rubio high screens should be edited and handed out at basketball camps with the title, “How to Run High Screens.”

Fact: In back-to-back summers, Chris Wallace traded Love’s rights for O.J. Mayo’s rights17 and drafted Hasheem Thabeet over James Harden and Ricky Rubio … and somehow, Memphis is still my favorite 2012 sleeper. I know, this has nothing to do with Love’s MVP campaign. I just didn’t know where else to put it in the column. The Love/Mayo swap doesn’t get mentioned nearly enough.

Fact: Love rates off the charts on the most crucial MVP question: Would the difference in his team’s victory total drop dramatically if you replaced him with a half-decent player all season? The answer? Hell yes. You can’t blame Love because he’s playing for a .500 team in a stacked conference, or because that team fell out of the playoff race only because its second-best player went down. That’s a 13-win team if you flipped him with, say, Brandon Bass. It’s true.

Fact: Despite everything you just read, Love can’t make First-Team All-NBA because of our next two guys.

2. Kevin Durant (+150)
Enjoying his most efficient season (28-8-4, 50/38/85) for our best regular-season team (at least right now). When you remember that it’s more fun to vote for Durant than for LeBron … I mean … why did it take until Monday for Durant’s MVP odds to drop from +250 to +150? When in doubt, people vote for the best player on the best team. Couldn’t you say there’s some doubt right now? Two other things I like about Durant’s candidacy:

• You can’t underrate his Duncan-like effect on the Zombie Sonics. When your best player cares the most, plays the hardest, works the hardest, pulls for everyone else and doesn’t care about his own numbers, you’re always going to be in good shape. Durant could jack up 25 shots per game, easily win another scoring title and maybe even try for something like “I want to be one of the four guys in the last half century who averaged more than 36 points a game.” He doesn’t care. Does it make sense that Durant’s point guard is averaging as many shots per game (19.4) as the modern-day cross between George Gervin, Tracy McGrady, Ray Allen and Spider-Man (19.5)? Of course not. Durant doesn’t care. He knows that Westbrook needs those shots to get going; hence, he gives them to Westbrook. Here’s how KD explained it yesterday when he came after Skip Bayless for downing Westbrook:

“We’re worse when I take more shots. Like I said, [Bayless] doesn’t know a thing. I don’t think he watches us. I think he just looks at the stats. And traditionally, a point guard is not supposed to take more shots than everybody else on the team. But we’re better when he does do that and he’s aggressive. And I’m better when I’m out there facilitating, rebounding, defending and being more efficient on my shots with less shots.”

Now …

It’s hard for me to believe that any basketball team would be better off with someone else taking more shots than a once-in-a-generation scorer who was built to score points the same way sharks are built to eat. Come playoff time, when it truly matters? I have a feeling Durant will be taking back a few of them. But the philosophy behind that sacrifice is really interesting. At least for now, the more shots Westbrook gets, the more aggressive he becomes … and when Westbrook is flying around and doing his thing, that’s when Oklahoma City becomes abjectly frightening. I love that Durant sees and appreciates this.

• Speaking of Westbrook, you can’t say enough about what happened those first few weeks of the season, when Westbrook was worrying about a contract extension, battling trade rumors, fuming about being scapegoated for last spring’s playoff collapse and playing with an uncharacteristic hostility. From what I heard, Westbrook had gotten deep into his own head, concerned that his buddy Durant had become soooooooo beloved (by fans, media members, teammates, everyone) that Westbrook pretty much couldn’t win — if Oklahoma City succeeded, Durant would get the credit, and if they failed, Westbrook would be blamed. That’s an impossible place to be.

And you know what? It could have combusted on the wrong team with the wrong superstar, especially after Westbrook’s ghastly 0-for-13 fiasco against Memphis right after Christmas. Durant simply wouldn’t allow it. The amount of time Durant and his teammates spent supporting Westbrook, building him up, rubbing his shoulders, slapping him on the back, inspiring him and everything else was almost comical. As Phil Jackson would say, they wouldn’t allow him to drift off the reservation. In mid-January, once it became clear that he was getting an extension (it finally got announced on January 19), Westbrook settled down and started playing out of his mind. He’s been a 26-5-5 guy for two and a half months.

Even better, he’s playing with that breathtaking swagger again, to the point that it’s impossible to think about the Zombie Sonics without him — over everything else, it’s their relentless athleticism that makes them (potentially) special. They didn’t just beat the Lakers on Thursday night. They made them look like old farts. And look, I’m not saying that Westbrook regained his mojo solely because of Durant, or that Westbrook doesn’t deserve a major chunk of the credit for their recent resurgence. But their situation was threatening to drift into that Shaq-Kobe/Shaq-Penny/KG-Steph/Avon-Stringer direction, and maybe even would have landed there, if Durant wasn’t wired like he’s wired. I really believe that. He could be averaging 37 a game this season — if he wanted — but he’s measuring himself by wins and wins only, and he’s protecting his house at all times (like he did with the Bayless dust-up Monday). That’s exactly where we want him to be: basically, the Duncan Zone — where relationships matter more than numbers, where winning is the only way to be measured.

Last thought: In that aforementioned Miami game, Durant had what Mike Lombardi loves to call “The Look.” I’ll leave it at that. You know it when you see it. My issue with Durant’s candidacy is this: I haven’t seen The Look from him quite enough. There are times when Westbrook has it, too. Which is why we’re headed for a five-pound trophy with this 2012 MVP race. Nobody has really taken that trophy and grabbed it. Including …

1. LeBron James (-180)
Hasn’t been the same since that possibly meaningful All-Star Game … you know, the one LeBron dominated until the final minute, then passed up a chance to close (earning not one but two on-court lectures from a semi-disgusted Kobe). Following the predictable media backlash (and then the backlash to the backlash), it was easy to say, “Come on, everybody, it’s just an All-Star Game, this doesn’t matter.”

I’m not so sure. LeBron famously shrank from The Moment against Boston. A friend of mine sat right next to Miami’s bench in Dallas during Game 4 of the Finals and told me the following story: If you remember, Dallas called timeout after Miami jumped to a seven-point lead with 10 minutes to play. The series looked like it was over, or headed that way, barring a semi-improbable comeback. Wade had been carrying them for this game and the previous one; now, the table was set for LeBron to bring them home. His teammates knew better than anyone.

Here’s how my friend remembers it: “They were excited in the huddle because they knew they were close (to finishing Dallas off). I was right there, I was sitting three feet away from their trainer. LeBron sat down and started chewing his fingers. I remember (assistant coach) Bob McAdoo and a few other bench guys kept coming over, slapping him on the shoulder and saying, ‘Come on, Bron, take us home.’ And he was just staring into space and chewing his nails. I remember AT THAT MOMENT wondering, ‘How would MJ be right now?’ I thought for sure LeBron would get fired up and feed off those guys. He looked like he wanted no part of it! So they go back out and Dallas starts coming back. Next timeout, same thing. ‘Come on, Bron, take us home.’ And he’s staring into space and chewing his nails. I could see Wade’s face. Remember, Wade played his ass off in those Dallas games. Wade had this look on his face like, ‘Oh, fuck me.’ That was when I knew Dallas could win. I don’t think LeBron has it in him. I will never forget watching that from that close. I feel like I witnessed history and actually felt that way as it was happening.”

So when that issue resurfaced in the All-Star Game, it meant something, and it will keep meaning something until the league’s most talented player starts asserting his will in a truly meaningful way. Why hasn’t LeBron felt any obligation to dominate one of these statement games (Orlando, Chicago, Indiana, Oklahoma City and Boston, all losses)? Shouldn’t we be worried about his inability to shift gears depending on the game, the situation, or even the moment? He actually thinks he’s doing the right thing by playing unselfishly, getting everyone involved, making the right pass at the right time and doing everything else you’d do in a vacuum when situations didn’t matter. Remember Chris Paul’s on/off switch? I’m not even sure LeBron has a switch.

A good example: Sunday’s blowout defeat in Boston, something of a must-win for Miami because of the moment (national TV, coming off a cold streak, with doubts forming), the opponent (a suddenly resurgent Boston team) and the playoff implications (they might play in Round 2). For perimeter defenders, Boston has Paul Pierce (34 years old), Sasha Pavlovic (literally, a 0-tool NBA player) and Marquis Daniels (who was washed up four years ago). That’s the entire “Guys Who Can Defend LeBron on Boston” list. If there was ever a day for LeBron to say, “Get out of my way, I’m going to keep attacking Pierce, draw some fouls on him and then annihilate the two stiffs backing him up,” it was this game.

And yet … he’s just not wired that way. He’s like a chess player who can’t see the board. The Heat ended up getting blown out in a truly passive performance — Miami at its worst, just guys standing around watching each other go one-on-one — then the media incorrectly turned it into a “What’s wrong with Miami?” story. The answer is simple: The Heat just want the playoffs to start. Durant and Westbrook have the whole “We can be the best team in the league!” thing driving them. Chicago can’t succeed unless they’re going balls-to-the-wall. Kobe has 40,000 points and six rings pushing him. Memphis, Indiana and the Clippers just want to be relevant. The Celtics know it’s their last dance together, and maybe the Spurs and Mavericks know it, too. The Heat? They’re on cruise control.

Of course, that’s when your signature guy should be saying, “Not on my watch, fellas, I can feel things slipping, I’m gonna have to throw in a little extra tonight.” That’s the calibration meter that LeBron seems to be missing — knowing when to step on that gas pedal, when to be selfish, when to seize the moment, maybe even when to morph into a homicidally competitive dick (Jordan-style) for three hours just to prove a point. We spend too much time picking basketball players apart (especially LeBron), but in this case? It’s totally valid. The Celtics shouldn’t have been celebrating in their locker room on Sunday and saying, “Man, thank God LeBron didn’t come at us.” Because I guarantee that’s what happened. That he can’t see the chess board after nine seasons makes me wonder if he’ll ever see it.

Regardless, I still have LeBron winning the MVP with three weeks to play. Just know that it’s going to be one of those forgettable, five-pound trophy victories. On the bright side, I guess that’s better than the Wimbledon platter.

“I know I talk crap on being a twentysomething but I’m only half-kidding. In actuality, there’s no age I’d rather be. (Besides maybe seven years old because they don’t do anything besides eat ice cream and poop themselves. That sounds like an ideal life to be completely honest.)

Being in your twenties is all about discovering which things hurt you and what makes you feel good. You go in blindly, practically pricking yourself with a dull blade, and then you walk out with tougher skin. One day you’ll stop pricking yourself altogether. Maybe. I don’t know. How would I? I’m just a twentysomething, remember?

This is what your twenties are for — to feel and see as much as you can, to take advantage of not being tied down to anything and anyone and to go balls to the wall with everything that you do. You’re a raw nerve. You hate getting upset over little things, about being constantly unraveled by ignored text messages, parents, grades, and friends, but you have to remember something: you don’t know yourself entirely yet. Before the age of 20, you were mostly under your parents care, a reflection of what was going on around you. You didn’t have the option to make your own choices. You were merely living the life someone set out for you. Being in your twenties allows you to start carving out the life you want for yourself. Everything is on your terms now which seems daunting but is actually liberating. For the first time in your life you’re the boss.

It’s important to talk about why your twenties are great because it seems like we spend so much of our time wanting to be somewhere else other than where we are. Think about it. Why the hell are we in such a hurry to live some boring grown up adult life that we saw at a Crate & Barrel? Because once we do get there, we’re stuck for a long time. The novelty’s going to wear off, we’re going to get married and have babies, and everything will be amazing but don’t think for a second that you won’t be nostalgic for this time. Don’t think for a second that you’re not going to miss those nights you spent putting on your make up, changing five million times, drinking wine, smoking cigarettes out your apartment window, and going to some silly party, a party that feels like all the others you’ve been to but still has the right to feel special. You will miss all of this. This is a luxury. It’s going to leave us eventually so you better freaking enjoy it. You better enjoy every lame ass party, every awkward kiss, every 5 AM hangover, every drug experience, every crappy apartment, because one day it will all be gone and you’ll just be left with the pictures and the bruises and nothing else. Youth is fu**ing magic. Don’t you get it? Look at your skin! Touch it. Look at your smooth legs and stomach. Grab it. When you’re older, you’ll want all of this again so bad. You’ll possibly spend so much money to get some semblance of it back. Now it’s yours for free.

We’re not stuck. Even if it feels like we are, it’s not true. We’re the opposite of stuck. As twentysomethings, we’re constantly moving — apartments, relationship, cities, jobs. Anything is possible. People are ready for you. They want to hear what you have to say. They look at you and are curious about what words are going to come out of your mouth. You’re the new generation. What do you have to say? Don’t bite your tongue. One day you’ll be pushed aside for a younger “fresher” perspective so you better get it out now. Make a mark. Make a stain. Make something.

I want to remember the fear, I want to remember the promise, I want to remember the nights I wanted to curl up in a ball, I want to remember the people I’m not supposed to remember, I want to remember not knowing myself, I want to remember the moment I started to feel safe and like this life I’m leading is really mine. I’m going to be scared, I’m going to bruise my knees and not know how they got there, I’m going to try to fruitlessly forge a connection with someone who won’t ever get it, I’m going to lose the person that means the most to me and find my way back to them. I’m going to be a twentysomething because that’s what I am and all I know how to be. And you should too. You should love every single moment of this hot mess of a decade. Chances are you’ll miss it before you even get to say “I’m 30.”