Rising Suns

...so do the Suns. Game four played out like a replay of game two: the Suns came out like a flat, flavorless Manhattan in the first half, only to bounce back and keep pace with Dallas in the second, even outplaying them, but providing too little too late. The Suns' attack was handcuffed in the first 24 minutes by a barrage of triple teams on Amare.

What you must understand is that Amare is still a pup. He's very young, and still quite inexperienced. The fact that he's been able to perform at the level he has this postseason is a testament of his will, determination, and superior talent. But composure is something that Amare must develop if he's to ascend to the pantheon of great big men.

When Amare doesn't get going early on, he tends to lose his concentration. The Mavs threw a series of defensive swarms at Amare, and he wasn't able to keep it together. All a team has to do to stop Amare is to frustrate him for the first quarter and he's wound up like a toy car, and putt-putts along for the next 36. The more frustrated he becomes, the more he tries to take upon himself and the more mistakes he makes. He gets angry and tries to ram it down the throats of the defense, but ends up overplaying his position, fumbling the ball in traffic, or various other offensive disruptions. Amare was 3-8 from the field in game four. He was credited for four turnovers, but should probably have been credited more, as Nash's passes bounced off of Amare's hands and careened out of play over and over again. It was the frustration culminating into an offensive implosion.

And then there was the no-call. With rougly nine minutes left in the game, the Suns looked to make a charge. Hoping to cut the lead to single digits, Amare went up on Erick Dampier for one of his patented posterizing slams. Dampier slammed into Amare, a tremendously easy call to make. I guess the refs had pulled out their dog whistles, because I certainly couldn't hear it blow. Play resumed, Jim Jackson recovered the "rebound" and was subsequently fouled, yet again, by Dampier. The dog whistle blew again as play resumed, Dallas went to their end of the floor and put in a bucket. The result: a four-point turnaround breaking the spirit of a previously indomitable Suns team. The rest was just waiting for the clock to reach zero.

Now, I'm not one to blame a game on officiating. At least, not specifically. If the Suns had managed to keep the first half close, then they wouldn't have been in a position to need calls, so it's hard to point the finger at the ref crew for the entire game. But the first six minutes of the fourth quarter were really bizarre. The Suns got mugged and hammered while the refs twiddled their thumbs, while the Mavs were getting whistles if the defenders looked at their opponents cross-eyed. What the players want is a mark of consistency in calls, and minutes 1-6 of quarter four lacked any semblance of that desired characteristic.

The Mavs came out with a revolutionary game plan, something that had never been tried before: let Nash score as much as he possibly can and lock up everybody else. Let him attack the rim and go in untouched, let him wear himself out, racking up a whopping 48 points, but make sure nobody else gets any good touches.

After so many of Nash's passes went astray due to the suddenly slippery hands of Amare the complete lack of spacing on the court from the other three players, Nash did the unthinkable: he stopped passing the ball.

After Nash stopped getting the team involved, they stood around and watched Nash take it to the hole possession after possession. It was like the Suns had suddenly turned into the 76ers, complete with Allen Iverson and four guys standing around watching Allen Iverson. There was no movement off of the ball and nobody scrambling for positioning on the offensive end. It was horrendously orchestrated, as the Suns stood in the same spot, time after time, waiting to get the ball. It was the antithesis of Suns basketball, and Avery Johnson's defensive scheme was designed to create that disruptive style.

What was maddening was that when the Suns came out flat in the first half, it seemed that they were playing with the America West Arena in their minds. It appeared like they were content with a split in the first half, and were looking ahead to game five.

In the second half, there was more of a sense of urgency, but by that point, the Mavs had dug their claws into the Suns and were squeezing the life out of them. Too little, too late.

But don't expect the same result in game five. Amare tends to bounce back with unnerving ferocity after a clunker of a game. Expect him to leak out a bit, hitting the 16-footer, forcing the defenders to creep up on him. Expect him to find the open man before the double team can reach him. Expect Amare to crush the skulls of the poor defender who tries to keep him from the rack. Pity Dampier in game five, he's probably going to be battered and bruised.

This has been a series of adjustments for both teams. But I think D'Antoni sees the big picture a little better than Avery Johnson does. While Johnson is overhauling his strategy each and every game, D'Antoni is trying to encourage the Suns to be the Suns, while making small adjustments for the major adjustments that the Mavs throw at them.

Game five is pivotal. Whichever team wins gets two chances to close it out. Now, the Suns get two days of much-needed rest. The starters are wearing down. Without Joe Johnson, there isn't anybody coming off of the bench to contribute in any significant way, and the tires are starting to bald.

Unfortunately, Joe Johnson is not expected to play in game five. While there is no official time table for his return, the medical staff is expected to re-evaluate Joe's situation on Thursday. We might get a better idea of when he can come back at that point. For now, the Suns hope that the home crowd at America West Arena can boost their spirits. I'll be there, sitting in the best seats in the house, screaming my head off in hopes of energizing them to a game-five win.