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Player 1 Select: Westbrook. How do you quantity speed when the numbers don’t even lie in the same ballpark? How do you even find the words when the verbs couldn’t run as far as this guy? You remember that bus that Keanu Reeves got on in the 90′s right? Well its that kind of ‘Speed’. Russell Westbrook is playing like if his total goes below 50 points per game his whole team will blow up. This assassin is taking names like ‘John Wick’, dunking repeatedly from the clip as killer as a gun. The ball, the bullet. The hole, the one in the dome. He’s the business end of the shotgun. All for his dog, the alpha Kevin Durant. Injured and done for the season. But it’s his ‘Matrix’ now. From zero to Neo. So sick, sing it out loud. He is the one. How could you not choose this guy? This piece of Thunderball is your fantasy, winning lottery ticket. Pick him, forget the draft. He’s a thunderstorm in the wind of a tornado when he leaves you struck with his hammers like Thor. Marvel at this Avenger in this age of Ultron, ultra plays. From OKC to D.C. Whether K.D’s here or not. Just wait until he slips on that Bane mask too like Rip Hamilton, Kobe or LeBron. Face off! Ghostface killer! The phantom menace in his opera. Breaking defences backs like Batman, the hardwood cracking, crushing and falling apart beneath him like that ‘Dark Knight Rises’ stadium crushing scene when he runs the floor. Explosive isn’t the word! His jersey should read C-4. Yet it reads nothing. For all the times he’s been wrote off. They thought him merely a wild card. Little did they know he was his team, city, league and while world of sports ace in the hole. You can’t cage a beast. You can’t leave classic American muscle in the garage under tarpaulin. Especially when this princes little, red corvette could bust through any brick wall. You have to let it ride. Fast and furious with the nitrus engaged in torque turquoise, leaving everyone else for tortoise and smoke. You can’t see through the fog. Or the reign. Moving from Seattle at a supersonic speed and leaving a storm in its wake. You can’t umbrella this Thunder. Everything else is clouds. Beyond that heaven sent. Point God from the basketball ones. Let it rain down like champagne.

Player 2 Select: Curry. It doesn’t get much hotter than this. You see those commercials for visiting California. Los Angeles, San Francisco. Yet cross that bridge and you’ll see something more in the Oracle of Oakland’s eye. A new California king putting everyone to bed. It’s almost movie making. You see all those ‘Planet Of The Apes’, ‘Terminator’ and ‘Godzilla’ movies making that iconic red bridge in the bay and the rim of the pacific their new Hollywood backdrop for their stunning set pieces. Yet nothing is defeating Steph as he holds down his side of the Golden Gate. Representing the city of Golden State like a true Warrior, bringing these two towns and the rest of the United States together. The baby faced assassin, with his father Dell’s shooting gene embedded into him like a digital code from a computer. He looks like a teen, but makes children out of men. Along with his Splash Brother, the ‘Human Torch’, Klay Thompson, Curry flames on like the other side of Russell Westbrook’s NBA Jam. Yet even without him this kid produces more water than what lies under the Golden Gate Bridge. Oceans of talent in this Pacific clinching and winning division. The only thing that could stop the heat of Curry is his wet jumper. When Chef Curry is cooking and this hot in his house, even a Bird couldn’t fly quite like this. Even Kyle Korver may have to adjust his Westbrook face-mask to a more Russell athletic setting. Steph is just this good. One day this number 30 will have ESPN putting another one next to that…and this guy hasn’t even left his twenties yet. Does he make you feel old? Either way he’s in the prime of his life and time of his basketball moment. Oakland’s Golden State have had a lot of good looks like their classic carriage throwback that this current team bring up to date, but nothing quite as visionary as this. The Run-DMC of ‘Rock’ Mitch Richmond, Chris Mullin and Tim Hardaway was a ‘Fab Five’, hip-hop like jam, but this scratches the sound in a different direction for the record. Even Jason Richardson’s slam dunk revolution or the upsets that Baron Davis’ Dirk dunk brought can’t bring everyone out the seats quite like this. And this team has Igudola coming off the bench. Not to mention a talented mix of David Lee and Draymond Green. Yet, like giving up offensive hot to Monta Ellis nothing hits home harder than when Curry hits the back of the nylons neck, down the throat of his opponents, burning their snapping and breaking hearts with more than indigestion. Sure Stephen has all the traditional qualities of a savvy Point Guard, from the passes to the picks, but like his Oklahoma opponent he brings something more to the table he sets for this dinner reservation. They say threes a crowd and when Curry shoots them he brings the biggest one. Leaving everyone wafting their mouths on disbelief. Inducing watery eyes. It’s getting real hot in here. Yet nothing is more volcanic than the igniting of Curry.

What’s most valuable to this National Basketball Association this year? You could select the king of course in the four time champ LeBron James, yet it might be time for something and someone different. By the beard of Zeus some people are saying the new King James Harden and by the mono-brow of Anthony Davis, some too fear the New Orleans Pelican. Still, no matter how good the next legendary big-man of this tall guys game and the guy Euro-stepping this game in a new crossover direction are they still have to make way for two, next gen Point Guards. Or should we say Gods. Because now everything runs through them. On the floor they see everything. In this league between Chris Paul and Deron Williams and then Derrick Rose and Kyrie Irving, the debate over who made the best Point in this guard game has raged. Yet two going against the machine and woodgrain and leather are defying conventions. All whilst still being conventional P.G.’s at their source in all their nickels and dimes. From the passing to the slashing. Yet a cut above the rest and the bar this game and position was always supposed to meet. The face of evolution in this expressive jazz like game that is free to be at the whim and will of its creator behind and beyond the notes and playbooks. If you’re a Los Angeles Laker all you have to do is look at the Showtime of Magic Johnson or another retired legend in the Canadian game changer Steve Nash. Now this double act of floor general skills and special skill sets make this basketball quarterback duo a real touchdown for their teams, redefining what makes the West best, even in the face of the new beast East. Two guys whether turning the power on dunking like they wanted to shut down the world, or hitting shots so circus miraculous, that jumping through hoops of fire are extinguished in the face of this blaze of glory. Two guys making this game look easy, scripted, rehearsed. Movie like, music to our ears. Making it all look like video games. Better looking than Lana Del Ray. Something so incredible it looks like these selected players sliders are set to full, with the fatigue turned off. They look like they could go all day and night, like their shot and slam practiced in the dusk till dawn gym they become rats in to its court cheese. Two guys that are just that incredible and inspired, with their highlights of highlights engraved in our minds memory cards. Two guys that you’ll always want to watch on league pass and then in this digital age, emulate in the arcades later. Instant classics like Konami, but ahead of their time like the next Playstation. In this game forever like EA. You know who to select when it comes to these Co-P.G’s. Just make sure when you enter their names, you spell them, M-V-P!

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