First, we'll look at the last one.
The man who, once upon a time, rep- resented the NBA for an entire country as the face of the league's only Cana- dian franchise. The man whose career numbers mirror basketball legends, yet to call forth his name in a Hall of Fame discussion could get you laughed out of barbershops from Oakland to Orlando. The man who should, by all rights, be to- day what David Robinson was yesterday – intelligent and iconic, as graceful on the court as he is gracious off of it – but still can't catch a break with a demand- ing and increasingly hypocritical public.
He's No. 1 in your program, No. 3 in the trinity. Ladies and gentlemen: Chris Bosh.
In the traveling super-group that is the Miami Heat, Bosh is the unsung yet un- expendable bass player. The 6-11 power forward stands firmly outside of the spotlight created by his two more famous teammates, small forward LeBron James and shooting guard Dwyane Wade, mak- ing beautiful music that only true connois- seurs of the form can fully appreciate. If LeBron and D-Wade are the Wesley Snipes
and Denzel Washington in this Mo' Better Blues remake, Bosh is Bill Nunn, the big man in the background pulling everything together and making this collection of re- markable talent an actual band.
Through the first third of this truncated 66-
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