#32 Magic Johnson, 6-9, 225, greatest Laker of all time... Member Basketball Hall of Fame... dominated 1980s with 5 championships and 9 NBA Finals appearances... 3-time regular season MVP... 3-time Finals MVP... 2-time All-Star Game MVP... 12-time NBA All-Star... 10-time All-NBA... #1 all-time career assist per game average...  led NBA in assists per game 4 times... led league in steals 2 times... career averages of 20 ppg, 11 apg, 7 rpg, 2 spg, 52% FGs and 85% FTs... one of a handful of players to win a NCAA championship, NBA championship, and Olympic Gold Medal... triple-double machine who can play all five positions... played with arguably the greatest center of all-time... only Lakers player with a statue outside Staples Center.

#23 Michael Jordan, 6-6, 210, greatest Bull of all time... Hall-of Famer... dominated 1990s with 6 NBA titles in 6 Finals appearances... 5-time regular season MVP... 6-time Finals MVP... 3-time All-Star Game MVP... 14-time NBA All-Star... 11-time All-NBA... #1 all-time career points per game average... led NBA in scoring avg 10 times... led league in steals 3 times... career averages of 30 ppg, 5 apg, 6 rpg, 2 spg, 50% FGs, 83% FTs... one of a handful of players to win a NCAA championship, NBA championship, and Olympic Gold Medal... scoring and dunking machine deluxe who can play three positions... played with arguably the greatest lockdown defender of all time... only Bulls player with a statue outside United Center.

Forget Kobe vs. Michael guys. If you want to compare another legend to Jordan, the great Earvin Johnson is the player we need to be talking about.

Although their primary positions were different, both made other teams adjust their strategies in order to counter the impact they made on the game which was tremendous.

Both players could score and get to the foul line at will. Both were as clutch as they get. Both were great defenders (Magic was a tremendous defender early on in his career, leading the NBA in steals at 3.4 per game and 2.7 per game in '81 and '82). Both were leaders who made their teammates better players. Both were marketing icons - Magic with Converse and Jordan with Nike. And above all, both players defeated the best teams and the best players in their respective eras convincingly and resoundingly.

But I'll tell you why Magic Johnson, as an overall player and team leader, makes a bigger impact on the game and on his team than His Airness.

Jordan accounted for 30 points per game and 5 assists per game during his entire career, which amounts to roughly 40 points of production for his team (for these purposes we will only equate his 5 apg as two-point field goals, giving him ten points of production for his team). His career average in steals was a little over two per game, so if we were to say one of those two steals led to a bucket, we can stretch it a little bit and say Jordan's overall impact on each game accounted for 42 Bulls points.

Magic, on the other hand, accounted for 20 points per game and 11 assists per game over his career, amounting to 42 points of production for the Lakers. He also averaged two steals a game, so if we were to take one steal that led to a bucket we're looking at 44 points that Magic was accountable for. In addition, Magic's career FG% was 52% to Jordan's 50% and his FT% was 85% to Jordan's 83%.

It's not much of a difference by the numbers, but Magic's overall career averages are still better when it comes to overall influence on a game. If we were to compare career playoff averages, it's about a tie (Jordan's 46 to Magic's 45).

Of course, many will undoubtedly say Michael Jordan is greater because many grew up in the Jordan era and witnessed the legend that was Air Jordan. And many will say Magic had Kareem and Worthy without taking into account that Jordan had Pippen and Rodman. But for those who were around to enjoy the Lakers-Celtics and Lakers-76ers rivalries of the eighties, you may be apt in siding with Johnson because he actually made us believe in magic. 

I witnessed both dynasties up close and personal and I watched thousands of Bulls and Lakers games - preseason, regular season, and playoffs.  I've seen both players play in their primes, live. Jordan was an amazing and unbelievable offensive weapon who didn't come around to be an all-out team player until his fifth year in the league, while Magic led his team to a title his rookie year. And throughout his career, Magic won five championships and went to the Finals a ridiculous 9 times in a 10-year span with three drastically different Laker teams with two different coaches. Not even the ringmaster Bill Russell could have done that.

Magic Johnson is the ultimate NBA legend because he dominated all categories and was the ultimate winner at the same time. His triple-doubles are living proof of this. The artistic and graceful Air Jordan is close behind, but not even His Airness could play all five positions in the grandest stage and win a championship doing so. Magic was so great and influential that Michael wanted to be like him - he took Magic's number 32, reversed it, and decided to go with 23.

What makes a champonship team? What ingredients are needed in order for a team to win it all? What factors allow a team to achieve ultimate greatness?

Through the years, the two constants that form the makeup of a championship team have always been great players and great coaching staffs. But what is it that truly makes up a title winning squad and what types of players are contenders trying to create in order to establish the character of a championship team?

I believe I've got the answer (Because there are so many great teams of all time that all possess pretty much the same characteristics, I will only talk about teams of the last 20 years in order to keep you from having to read a novel. But please feel free to comment about past players on pre-1980 teams).

1. Two Superstars/All-Stars. This is the first obvious element in the make-up of a champion. Great teams of the past such as the Showtime Lakers, Larry's Celtics, The Bad Boy Pistons, Jordan's Bulls, the Dr. J and Moses Malone Sixers, the Shaq-Kobe Lakers, and Duncan's Spurs all had two superstar players who could easily be number one options on other teams. These players were go-to guys and at least one of them was a superior clutch player. No team in the history of this league has ever won a championship without having an All-Star caliber player. It just doesn't work that way.

2. Two role players who are consistently solid through a seven-game Finals series. We can start with Rajon Rondo and James Posey of the Boston Celtics since the memory is fresh in our minds. Brent Barry and Michael Finley excelled in their roles for the 2007 Spurs, as did Stephen Jackson and Malik Rose for the 2003 championship version. The 2003-04 Pistons that manhandled the Lakers had a couple of consistent role players by the name of Mehmet Okur and Tayshaun Prince who were extremely pivotal in the Finals that year. Hakeem Olajuwon had a couple of teammates named Robert Horry and Sam Cassell, who not only were clutch but brought a ton of energy to a veteran team, helping the Rockets win back-to-back titles in the mid-nineties. If it weren't for Ron Harper, John Paxson, B.J. Armstrong, Horace Grant, and Luc Longley, would the Bulls have been able to secure two three-peats despite the greatness of Jordan and Pippen? And we can't ever forget the huge contributions of Mo Cheeks, Andrew Toney,  A.C. Green, Kurt Rambis, Byron Scott, Danny Ainge, Dennis Johnson, John Salley, and Bill Laimbeer to their respective championship teams. Perhaps the most  important ingredient to the recipe, role players who are toughminded, reliable, and steady are perhaps overlooked at times by fans, but they are certainly never undervalued by coaches who've been there done that.

3. Two "specialty" players who can provide instant offense or suffocating defense and take over for spurts during a seven-game Finals series. This is a different breed of role player, simply because there are stretches in games when the superstars get cold and teams desperately need a sniper or an energizer to ignite a spark. At times, these players are the ones who contribute largely to forming the identity of their team. Late in Game Six of the 1992 NBA Finals, Jordan was on the bench while guys like Bobby Hansen and Craig Hodges shot the Bulls back in the game just in time for M.J. to do his thing late in the fourth. Celtics fans surely won't forget Eddie House, and that's why Ainge decided to extend the outside shooting specialist to a new contract. Leon Powe came in and also gave the Lakers fits with his tenacity, thoroughly outplaying even the Lakers starters. Because of these two players, the Celtics stole all momentum in Game Two and the results speak for themselves. The Spurs always had Steve Kerr and Steve Smith to keep them in games with their outside shooting, and Rose and Horry to keep them in series with their ability to hustle, bring energy on defense, and willingness to guard just about anybody. Kerr and Horry, the NBA's version of the good luck charm, brought their specialty to the 1996-'98 Bulls,  1994-'95 Rockets, and the 2000-'02 Lakers as well. And what about the Bad Boys and Celtics? I'll never forget The Microwave Vinnie Johnson and his instant offense, The Worm's defensive energy against Magic and the Lakers, Jerry Sichting's outside touch for the Celtics, Cedric Maxwell's offensive expertise and creativity, and Gerald Henderson's defensive savvy. Last but not least, if it weren't for Brian Shaw there would be no such thing as the Shaw-Shaq Redemption, and if it weren't for Derek Fisher the Lakers of 2000-'02 lose any semblance of true grit and toughness.

4. The Enforcer. This list is easy. Every team in every sport needs one, even Team USA. You see them in hockey and football. You'll need them in basketball if you want to win it all. The original Dream Team had Charles Barkley. The current one has Kobe Bryant and Carlos Boozer. This year's Celtics had a couple of bruising tough guys, one a kid and the other a veteran - Kendrick Perkins and P.J. Brown. The Spurs have always had Bruce Bowen there to pick on another team's best scorer, using his reputation to intimidate and his scissor-like hands to tie up foes. The Rockets had their own version of Bowen, a toughminded veteran by the name of Mario Elie who did just about everything his team needed, including blowing kisses to opponents' benches in order to rub it in. And who'll ever forget Rick Fox, who's as tough as nails and who's charmingly good looks can easily fool anyone. His victims include Peja Stojakovic (an All-Star), Scottie Pippen (a Legend), and Doug Christie (a has-been). Before Fox, there was Michael Cooper, whom Larry Bird said was the player that gave him the most fits during all those battles with the Lakers. Of course, the Bad Boys wouldn't be the Bad Boys if it weren't for Rick Mahorn, who's still an active enforcer to this day. Just ask Lisa Leslie. The Pistons' championship formula continued years later with defensive enforcer Ben Wallace manning the frontline. And the Bulls were so impressed with the Pistons that they had to hire one (Dennis Rodman), so that they'd have someone to frustrate the great Karl Malone in the 1997 and 1998 NBA Finals. Sure enough, The Mailman uncharacteristically  failed to deliver.

5. The Great Leader  who knows how to make in-game and in-series adjustments. It's plainly obvious that 2008 was the year of surprises in the world of sports. One of the biggest ones was the emergence of Doc Rivers as a highly regarded championship coach. His ability to keep a brand new team on the same page for an entire year and conclude it with a rousing title run and embarrassing arguably the greatest coach of all time in the NBA Finals, speaks volumes worthy of the utmost respect. His tactfulness and motivation style kept his team mindful, prepared, and ready to play the best series of their lives. The bottom line is that his team played with a purpose, and Phil Jackson's team did not. Speaking of the Zenmaster, one only has to look at his treasure chest filled with nine championship rings as a coach to know that he belongs on this list. His ability to use the force and the mind as weapons still baffles onlookers to this day. It's almost as if he's Yoda incarnated. 

It is no mistake that teams who win titles have great coaches who are great strategists and masters of their craft. Not only are they magnificent at utilizing the talents of their players to fit a particular system, they are also second to none in coordinating game situations. Chuck Daly always had great timing with his substitution patterns. Gregg Popovich's philosophy and coaching style have made his team the winningest NBA team since the new millenium. He learned his craft from Larry Brown, who not coincidentally  has also won an NBA title. Pat Riley's excellent combination of tenacity and brains allowed him to turn the Showtime Lakers into the most balanced team of all time, able to run-n-gun for a full 48 minutes and wear down the opposing team or slow it down when the situation calls for it in order to physically beat down an opponent.

So who's the next championship team? You already know my answer. Using this formula, why don't we all argue back and forth as to why your favorite team has it and why mine doesn't. 

It's Friday night, you were just bickering and squabbling with your girlfriend, her presence is completely annoying you, and you've had enough. So you head towards the fridge to grab a beer.

Once you open the refrigerator, you think to yourself, "What the hell am I doing? I'm gonna sit here, start drinking this brewski, and hear more of her jibberish which, in turn, will ruin my night of watching SportsCenter, when all I expected getting home from work was to have a night of peace and tranquility. Instead, we're gonna have make-up sex in a couple of hours and act like nothing happened tomorrow morning. F-this." And so you slam the refrigerator door without grabbing a single thing.

You then walk back to the living room, see her watching a rerun of I Love Lucy and within seconds you pick up your cell phone and call Steve. "Yo dude, I need to vent."

Steve responds, "Let's vent. Come through."

You grab your keys, walk out the front door, and tell your woman, "Babe, there's a big game on and I see you're watching your favorite show so instead of pissing you off some more I'm gonna head over to Steve's. I'll be back in a few."

Her attitude comes out once again and she says, "I'll be up so you better not come home late."

Within minutes, you and two of your buddies drive over to the local sports bar already knowing what beer you're going to drink and how many you're going to pound within the first 30 minutes.

Upon entering the scene, you can't help but notice the jam-packed crowd. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, is talkin' sports while 25 52" LCDs are gracing the walls with sports coverage so comprehensive you'd think you were inside the ESPN headquarters in Bristol. There's even a bouncer who looks like Stu Scott on 'roids.

From boxing to football to equestrian, discussions can be heard from every angle. Debates are heated. Dudes are drunk. A couple guys are already passed out. Someone to your right is throwing a football across the room to someone who's holding a Newcastle. Women are looking sexy, wearing their favorite football team's jersies. Other women are showing cleavage. Hotties everywhere. The smell of buffalo wings and alcohol fills the air.

All three of you then look at each other and say, "Beer Heaven, baby."

As Melissa walks you to your table, you can't help but overhear the numerous debating and discussing that is going on. Your guys feel like eavesdropping on every single one of them just so you can give your two cents. You wait patiently, as all three of you order your first round of drinks.

The theme of the night will be, what sports discussion do you want to partake in? How many arguments will you get into? What kind of debating will you be doing? This is live blogging folks. The only difference is there's a chance you may wind up in a hospital before the night is through.

To your right are the POOL TABLES. Everyone here is talkin' Brett Favre. One guys says he thinks Brett's going to a city with a cold climate. The other guys responds by saying Brett has no choice and that the Packers will trade him to whatever team gives the best deal. While a third guy wearing a Favre jersey chimes in and stubbornly keeps saying that Brett ain't goin' nowhere. What do you think fellas? Grab a beer. Let's talk about it.

Up ahead past the billiards section is the MAIN BAR. Men and women all over the place. Nobody here is sober. Not even the bartenders. It seems like everyone wants to talk about the Beijing Olympics since they're showing highlights of Team USA's 55-point laugher over Canada in their tuneup for the Games. Will the Dream Team capture gold? It seems like everyone has the U.S. as the solid favorites so the conversation moves forward to whom the Americans will play in the gold medal game. Spain? Defending champs Argentina? Russia? Host city China? Germany? You make the call.

What's up with all the cheating swimmers? Who'll be the most likely cheater in the Olympics? How many records and gold medals will Michael Phelps achieve? Is Phelps a cheater? What about those new suits the swimmers are wearing? Is that considered cheating? A former Stanford swimmer happens to be sitting at the bar and seems to be the focus of everyone's attention. He tells them what he thinks and the only thing you can hear is, "Gimme another one," as he clumsily hands his empty glass over to the bartender. Nevertheless, the guy's a stud. Four women are draped all over him while eight haters gaze intently with their mouths wide open.

Across to the left near the WALL-OF-FAME, there's a huge group of about 20 people having a party within the party. Empty shot glasses everywhere. All over the table, including a hottie laying on her back with some drunk taking a shot at the expense of her belly. Nice.

As the waitress approaches the table with another full round of 20 shots, you can't help but hear one dude who kept saying how the New York Yankees will eventually overtake the Boston Red Sox and capture the AL Pennant. "Yeah right, " one guy says.

"Only in your wet dreams," replies a hot blonde wearing a Red Sox halter top.

All three of you approach the group, and they're so drunk they offer to not only buy each of you a shot but a sampler tray as well. "This is the year of the Angels," your buddy says. The crowd starts cheering. Of course, you're an A's fan so you order another beer and start flirting with the waitress instead.

Meanwhile, Dodgers fans at the pool table across from you are running their mouths about how the Dodgers will win the NL West without realizing that division leaders with a record below .500 probably won't get out of the first round. Your Angels buddy says, "Andruw Jones. That's all I gotta say."

It's a half-an-hour past midnight and suddenly you receive a text. "I'm going to bed... come home early... love u." You look over to your buddies and tell them it's on and crackin.' Curfew's been released. You order another round before you even get the other one you  previously ordered, thinking that the night is still young. After three seconds, you realize that you were the one who drove and both of your friends were already drunk and stoned when you picked them up. Damn.

At 1:15 you make your final stop of the night and you're holding a Guinness on tap in one hand and a Sam Adams on the other. On to THE PATIO you knuckleheads go.

First thing you notice is a 15-foot dust cloud as soon as you walk outside. Then you realize it's cigarette smoke coming from about 30 addicts who've probably been outside chainsmoking since eight o'clock. A wise man once told you that if you're going to inhale second hand, you might as well smoke them yourself. All three of you decide to walk over to a dude standing by himself and ask him if you could bum a smoke.

As you look at him and  wonder why he seems all sad and lonely puffing on a Camel Ultra Light all by himself, you notice that he's patio security. He's there til 2:00am, been there since 2:00pm. $9 an hour. Part time. Probably doesn't know sports. But more importantly, the dude's only a flashlight cop. You gratefully say thanks and head over to the crowd.

Varied conversations fill the patio as quickly as the smoke emanating through the air with no regard for human life.

"Who's the best pound-for-pound boxer today?" someone asks.

You hear all sorts of names being thrown out. Floyd Mayweather. Manny Pacquiao. Miguel Cotto. Kelly Pavlik. Joe Calzaghe. The Russian dude. The Mexican dude.

"Forrest Griffin!" one guy shouted.

"Dude, he ain't a boxer he's MMA," you say.

"Oh yeah, you're right dude," responded the white guy as he took another sip of his Jack and Coke. "I was going to say Rocky but he's not even real, like D-Wade said in that commercial."

Then from nowhere, like a UFO suddenly appearing out of the night sky, a scuffle broke out. A big 6-4, 250 lb black dude wearing a Philadelphia Eagles jersey began duking it out with a 5-11, 300 lb Samoan dude wearing a Pittsburgh Steelers jersey. What the heck is going on, you thought to yourself. The 5-foot-5 flashlight cop runs to the scene as if he were about to do something to stop the fight and then he immediately stops and calls for backup. Bouncers #1 and #2 arrive at the scene quickly, and after breaking it up they tell everyone to clear out. The party is over, so you order one more beer and smoke one more cigarette.

You think to yourself, "Man, there's no better feeling than this." A dude passes by and you hear him ask his girlfriend, "So what fight did you like better, that one or the one between the Sparks and Shock?"

"This one," she answers. It figures. There's no hope for the WNBA. Even mediocre bar squabbles have more entertainment value.

Your buddy then walks over to the Samoan dude and asks him what that was all about. He said the guy was talking smack about Troy Polamalu, who happened to be the Samoan guy's cousin. So you asked him if he thinks the Steelers are going to win the Super Bowl this year. He says, "Hell mutha-f'n yeah! What you think?"

You say, "No way. Niners. And by the way, Polamalu's aight. Let's see if he recovers from his injury and becomes the player he used to be." Samoan dude laughs and tells me to take a hike like Todd Donohoe. 

Since the shop was closin' down, it was time to take the traditional trip to the can. You just paid the tab, your single buddy hooked up and got a number, you guys talked about different sports all night at different spots in the bar, and you got to enjoy plenty of eye candy. You even got a high from smoking cigarettes. Not bad for a Friday night that started out so badly you'd think the Lakers were about to lose Kobe Bryant to the Phoenix Suns.

And the best thing about it is... when you get home, it'll be perfect timing for a little make-up sex.

The Sports Bar. Where the life happens. Grab a brewski and let's talk the talk.

""He's absolutely fine, he's going to come in as a beast," agent David Lee said. "He's got no atrophy anywhere. The kid's in great shape."

I don't believe we've heard anything like that come out of the Blazers' camp with regards to Greg Oden's questionable and unproven status.

Prepare yourselves Laker Haters, skeptics, critics, cynics, disbelievers, detractors, and Oden Lovers. The invasion is coming. And his name is Andrew Bynum.

Last year, you caught a glimpse. A tease. A sneak preview of what's coming to an HDTV near you. Even KOBE himself tried hard not to get too excited but wound up slipping, "With Andrew, we're a championship team."

Yes, we all know there is Dwight Howard and his ability to jump over buildings and Yao Ming and his 7 foot 5 inch stature. But trust me folks, The Big Drewski is the real deal. He'll be better than both of these centers in exactly.... one year.

He's being trained by Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, who was trained by the legendary Bruce Lee, which pretty much guarantees Bynum will not only have the balance, discipline, footwork, and the strength, but also a good head on his shoulders. In the month of January 2008, he dominated the NBA averaging just under 18 points per game, about 13 rebounds, and 3 blocks playing less than 30 minutes, all this while playing with a guy by the name of KOBE, who accounts for over 50% of the team's offensive production. Not to mention the fact that Bynum was leading the league in FG percentage before he got injured!! 

Producing 28 points on .847% shooting, grabbing 12 rebounds, and blocking a couple of shots, he singlehandedly crushed Amare Stoudemire and archrival Phoenix Suns on Christmas Day, making Coach Mike D'Antoni realize that his glory days in Phoenix were all but over and that's why he left his team for New York and got out of the conference altogether. That in itself should tell you what's coming.

Never mind the injury. His agent and his doctors just went out and said he's good to go. I kept saying during the playoffs that the Lakers should bring Bynum back and now I'm glad they didn't. The Lakers were smart for resting him and seeing what they could accomplish without their second best player, affording them the opportunity to gauge their roster a lot better.

Bynum's agent recently proclaimed, "I know what the rest of the league thinks of Andrew." The rest of the fans are about to find out what he means.

It's not only a Lakers' assault, but an invasion at the same time. And no, Chuck Norris isn't starring in this one.

I will...

A) buy his jersey.

B) buy his bobble-head doll.

C) buy his Fathead.

D) never again clown Brown.

E) ask myself 54 times "What can Brown do for you?"

F) reassure myself that he does, in fact, know the triangle.

G) host the first annual  "Kwame Brown Bake-A-Cake-And-Throw-It Event" at Hermosa Beach every January 13th of every year until he gets traded again.

H) name the basketball court down the street "Brickhouse" in honor of Kwame.

I) give him a standing ovation every time he enters the game.

J) create a custom T-Shirt that has a photo of Kwame on the front and his famous quote on the back:  "But this is America. You shouldn't be arguing about cake."

and

K) call my peeps at Nickelodeon and tell them to create a new sports-themed animated series called SpongeBrown NoHands (I'm sure you can visualize it). And then contact Motorola so they can have Kwame be the new spokesperson for their "Hands-Free" campaign.

Raise both hands if you want to welcome Brown back in town for a mil and a half.