So these are the "new look" Bobcats. The saddest part is, the new look team still faces the same old and harsh realities of the NBA. In a Charlotte Observer interview, Jackson made the contractually required statement about how thrilled he was to be in Charlotte and then made an observation. He said that the team had every reason to believe they could make the playoffs this season as long as they learned to play together before they dug too deep a hole for themselves. Well, the reality is that each time you lose to a team you should beat it means you have to win one somewhere else. I crunched some schedule numbers yesterday and by my reckoning, the Cats needed to steal at least 4 wins from teams that on paper are better than they are in order to make the playoffs. That’s a hefty order, but one the team has managed in the past. They’ve already beaten this year’s breakout Hawks team, so there was reason to hope. With last night’s loss against a team they should have beaten handily, that number rises to 5 and the hole just got a bit deeper. By my math the team had a 40 win season within reach and a .500 season didn’t involve a lamp and 3 wishes. If we lose another couple like last night, we’re gonna need that lamp and several old ladies in taffeta singing "bibbity-bobbity-boo."

So what went wrong last night, apart from Jackson’s prophetic hole growing deeper? Well, in the first half we gave up offensive rebounds to one of the worst boarding teams in the NBA while not picking up a single second-chance board for ourselves. Not a good sign. We also turned the ball over 9 times in the opening chapter alone. We had repeated shot clock violations and despite Felton dropping in a couple of pretty shots, we were trapped in the Land of the Desperation Jumpshot early on.

I would list a plus that Tyson Chandler showed signs of life except for one thing. In commenting on the last game I said that Chandler appeared to have a Constitutionally guaranteed lengthy foul trouble rest each game. Last night he got through the first half without foul trouble. The people rejoiced and somewhere an angel got its wings. Everyone was happy except Chandler himself. Realizing that he was in danger of actually having to play an entire game, he suddenly developed back spasms. Since I’m laid up in this chair due to severe disc and nerve damage to my lower spine, I know a thing or two about spasms. When they hit, I can’t so much as take a deep breath because of the pain and small convulsive jerks that wrack my torso. They’ll even wake me out of a sound sleep. Yet every time I saw Chandler in the second half he was leaned forward and comfortably chatting with his bench mates. Meanwhile I watched Boris Diaw out on the court try to extend for a shot only to have his eyes go suddenly wide and fearful as if he’d just confronted the business end of a Grizzly. (I mean the 8 foot furry kind with the 7 inch claws, not the comparatively toothless cubbies that play in Memphis.) Boris Diaw was having massive spasms and he was playing in an NBA ballgame. Tyson Chandler was doggin’ it and this team has no chance as long as he’s around. Nobody, not even Chandler himself, is ever going to convince me otherwise. He can have a double-double in Milwaukee and score the winning basket at the buzzer and it won’t change my mind. He’s getting a free ride and he knows it. Dubs fans claimed they were getting rid of a cancer when Jackson left town, well we have a tumor of our own already.