Not because he torched the Dallas Mavericks for 42 points in Game 3 of the NBA Finals. (Well, that may be part of the reason.) Not because everyone else is anointing him the next Next Michael Jordan. And not even bec6ause he tries to crowbar a "Y" in his name. (And get this, his wife's name is, no shit, Siohvaughn. Scrabble much?) No, the real reason to despise the Miami Heat guard is that he's fake--fake, as in no one in the history of mankind has been so dramatically injured (wink) as many times as he. If I had $1 million for every time he hits the floor, lies there writhing in pain only to get up--"It's a miracle!"--and make a couple of free throws, I'd be like half as rich as Wade.
Don't get me wrong, the dude is sic. But he's also sick. Or has a bad knee. Or got elbowed in the jaw. Or shows up to Finals practice with the sniffles and carrying tissues on the court. Or now is telling reporters he has an ouchie on his knee. Please. He's made more faux dramatic comebacks than Rocky, and he's only 24. He even has a commercial about his resiliency. Like me, some Detroit Pistons fans aren't buying what he's selling. Bottom line: Let Wade act, give him an Oscar or a Purple Heart, whatever. Just don't let him drive to the basket.
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Surely the Mavs are aware that of the 30 starting shooting guards in the NBA this season, 29 made more three-pointers than Wade's 13. So why in the world were the Mavs--especially Josh Howard--lurching at his pump fakes 23 feet from the basket? Turn DwYane into a jump-shooter, and the Mavs can turn the Finals back into a rout. And, in other news, looks the Mavs are suiting up a secret weapon for Game 4. And, no, it's not D.J. Mbenga. --Richie Whitt