And yet somehow, Cleveland's acquisition of Williams is nothing short of momentous. While LeBron James is off establishing himself as the most dominant player on Team USA, Danny Ferry finally has managed a move that helps the Cavs win now. That it does, however, is a testament to both the mess this roster had been and just how tremendous an asset James is.

Cleveland had spent the summer haggling with Delonte West, who in the playoffs occasionally looked capable of handling the ball, creating his own shot, and knowing when to get it to LeBron. Daniel Gibson was signed--for around what West was offered--and all he can do is hit threes with dead-eye accuracy. Eric Snow, always limited, is now past his expired date. To say that the Cavs have a backcourt problem is an understatement; with LeBron spending most of his time at the three, the team has a guard problem.

Williams rectifies this almost immediately. He can shoot, score, distribute the ball, and not embarrass himself on defense. In short, he's like all the other Cavaliers guards rolled into one, for the low, low price of around $8.5 million per year. It seems like a lot for a team anxious about cap flexibility, but with Damon Jones and Joe Smith leaving town as part of the three-team deal (don't ask about Luke Ridnour's latest chance at redemption), Cleveland's still sitting more than pretty when it comes to finding LeBron some high-priced help--and hopefully take this team to the next level right as the King starts to weigh his 2010 options.

Their cap issues will keep them from signing any big free agents a year from now. But Wally Szczerbiak's expiring $13 million contract and Eric Snow's $7.3 million coming off the books, they could make a trade at the deadline for an All-Star. James, Williams and unnamed All-Star make post-season noise, and all of a sudden, the Cavs are a real force in the East.

Then again, let's not forget that this Cavs team took the Celtics seven games this spring, and made it all the way to the NBA Finals in 2007 with a philosophy that boiled down to defense, rebounding, and occasional bouts of LeBron at his finest. Williams helps the Cavs from the tradition team-building perspective. Yet the Cavs have had success without addressing these concerns. Perhaps it's better to think of James as receiving a much-needed injection of competence into his clubhouse.

Forget about traditional roles and responsibilities. What this gives LeBron, night-in and night-out, is another perimeter guy who can seriously play. We all know James has a warrior's resolve, but imagine how different things will be for him once he no longer feels so alone in the skill position side of things. That's why Gibson got paid, and West seemed like a hot property--however briefly, they gave James some companionship in the wasteland of isolations and putbacks.

Maybe then, it wouldn't look so often like James was coasting, or putting up 30/7/7 without our even realizing it. Maybe there would be more than two games each postseason where he looked like the second coming of MJ. That, as much as filling holes in the roster, is what's going to make Cleveland an appealing long-term home for James. It's what he's experiencing in Beijing, albeit to almost surreal degree. And if Williams can bring some of that to Cleveland, it's a win/win for the team and James.

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As the most hyped U.S. team since that first year of NBA participation continues to wow us in warmup contests, with stars like Kobe Bryant, Carmelo Anthony, Chris Paul, and a revitalized Dwyane Wade looking like the All-Star roster we always secretly wish we would see, things are looking good for The Redeem Team. They may not be Jordan, Barkley, and Magic -- at least not yet -- but this group has a distinct sense of purpose about them, one that's at once exuberant and kind of scary.

As of now, it's hard to think they won't get their redemption.

But exactly which kind of redemption is USA Basketball looking for? Much of the coverage of this year's Olympics squad has focused on the theme of "embarrassment." Certainly, this applies to the poor showing at the 2002 FIBA World Championship, and the bronze medal from the 2004 Games -- efforts doomed by sub-par personnel, poor preparation, and, in the latter case, Larry Brown's hubris. In the 2006 Worlds, though, a group that looked a whole lot like this year's avengers were upset by Greece just shy of the finals.

I'll spare you the suspense: This team will win the gold in Beijing. The talent is there, there's chemistry and cohesion, and Coach K isn't out to prove a point about himself. If there's any redemption, though, it won't come in the form of a return to 1992's merciless roundball diplomacy. This isn't about America learning to conquer all over again, but rather, of getting in line and thumping the competition with some measure of humility.

That was the lesson of 2006. We could field a darn good team, picked by hand and out for blood -- though without Kobe, both of these statements deserve an asterisk -- and still come up short. From that moment on, USA Basketball was truly mortal. And that's when the real road to redemption -- not just an attempt to recapture a lost past -- began. That, and not knee-jerk delusions, is what's got this year's team so hungry.

What's embarrassing isn't that 1992 is gone forever, but that it took us too long to acknowledge its passing. The United States needed to get together a steady national team, adjust to international rules, and treat these games as more than a glorified exhibition. They did all that, and still lost the 2006 Worlds. It's been a joke for some time that the NBA champs are known as "World Champs." At this point, that humor's given way to a grain of truth. Like it or not, basketball belongs to everyone now.

And that's why watching the Americans take the gold will be so satisfying. At the risk of bringing up politics, it'll be basketball's lone superpower adjusting to its new place in the world. No less exalted, but no longer quite so entitled. The "redemption" comes not in marauding through opponents like it's 1992, but in genuinely earning blowout victories through hard work and sparkling play. In a sense, we're making up not only for our own shame over the last six years, but also, just maybe, apologizing for the absurdity of the Dream Team.

Heading forward, America has to figure out how to be a citizen of the basketball world while maintaining its special status. We can still be the champions, and have a great time gutting others. We just have to take everyone else seriously along the way, and, in the event of an upset or hiccup, graciously acknowledge that some other country might have a point.

Nathaniel Friedman, a.k.a. Bethlehem Shoals, is a founding member of the NBA blog FreeDarko.com and is a frequent contributor to Sporting News.

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But in some cases, it gets more complicated. Take Tracy McGrady. Even when paired with international titan Yao Ming, T-Mac has problems winning. Maybe you heard about it: One of this generation's most potent offensive players simply can't get past the first round of the playoffs. McGrady has come up short seven times in the postseason -- and yes, it often has come down to his inability to assert himself late in games and playoff series. But McGrady, perhaps because he's so darn likable, isn't a loser. He could use a little more edge, and his injury woes frustrate him as much as they do us. But McGrady cares deeply about winning, is flush with talent and deserves better. You could say much the same about Yao.

McGrady is one of those athletes whose psyche seems almost as important as what he does on the court. That's not to say he's more motivated than, say, LeBron. It's just that, for him and us, the game has become more personal. That's why, in a weird way, he and Ron Artest were soul mates waiting to happen.

Artest is an undeniable force on the court, and his ruggedness is consistent with the new identity the Rockets discovered during their 22-game winning streak in the second half of last season. First and foremost, though, Artest is the wild man of the NBA -- a two-way talent who should be a perennial All-Defensive selection but has distracted himself, and us, with his antics. Seriously -- when was the last time you actually thought about whether Ron Artest was winning or losing games on the basketball court?

Like McGrady, who has come to stand for hard luck and disappointment, Artest is all hellfire abandon and almost irrational rebellion. Just as T-Mac's angst has come to overshadow his team's fortunes, Artest's mental state is a news beat all its own. Perversely, we watch Artest wondering when he'll lose control and wander off the ledge -- or when he'll harness all his emotion and whup competitors within the rules of the game. T-Mac, well, we just want some reason to smile for the guy. Calling him a "loser" seems so shallow, cruel, and simplistic, just as branding Artest a "winner" barely even makes sense anymore.

And now, they're going to be teammates, along with Yao, Shane Battier, Luis Scola, Rafer Alston and most likely Carl Landry. That's a monster of a nucleus, one with stars, role players, skill, heart and even a bit of swagger after last season's streak. Coach Rick Adelman is an offensive mastermind, while the defensive culture instilled by Jeff Van Gundy still runs deep. Even with all the chaos and disappointment we've come to associate with Artest and McGrady, this team will contend.

But this also means both men are out of excuses. It's time for them to join the ranks of ordinary superstars, which is probably what they would have preferred all along. In fact, after this year's unceremonious first-round exit, McGrady seemed intent on avoiding a scene like 2007's tearful press conference. He had accepted fate. Now, it's time for him to stop that kind of supernatural thinking. If McGrady was unsteady and fragile, Artest gives him strength. Same for Artest. He's now riding with a man for whom games' outcomes have become a source of pain and suffering. This should bring the former King back into orbit, reminding us that, when his head is screwed on straight, the dude is a winner.

Earlier today, I wrote that Artest completes the Rockets. But on the level of myth and legend, Artest and T-Mac not only make each other better -- they provide some perspective, maybe even a degree of normalcy. They can actually get a chance to be judged for their successes or failures, instead of as freaks, charity cases, novelty acts or any other kind of athlete whose baggage stands in the way of him having a Paul Pierce-like summer.

Maybe we'll miss the angsty T-Mac and the antisocial Artest. Ultimately, though, those reputations are detriments to the two players. We owe them the chance to live normal lives, to be "winners" or "losers" like everyone else. Now, they're getting the chance to do their thing without it being an automatic distraction. And the rest of the league should be very, very scared.

Nathaniel Friedman, a.k.a. Bethlehem Shoals, is a founding member of the NBA blog FreeDarko.com and is a frequent contributor to Sporting News.

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Suddenly, Americans Carl Landry and Delonte West and international player Andris Biedrins are toying with the idea of defecting. In 10 years, we might look back at the summer of 2008 as a turning point -- ironic, seeing as these Olympics are supposed to remind the world of America's special relationship with basketball.

Fascinating stuff, to be sure. But while we've all been stuck on this international intrigue, the NBA has, in subtler ways, altered its labor situation.

This summer, Chris Paul and Deron Williams became the latest superstars to sign what's become the de rigeur extension for the game's elite. We used to talk in terms of how many seasons players were guaranteed. Now, big dogs such as Paul, Williams, LeBron James, Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh guarantee their teams' seasons.

The NBA is criticized for giving its players too much power; here, though, it's incentive for front offices to do their jobs well. These contracts are only blackmail if you presume all organizations are pretty much competent, and simply allow themselves to be distracted by their stars. Of course, this couldn't be further from the truth. All these contracts ask is that All-Stars not be taken for granted.

However, these contracts are reserved for only the sure things of the NBA who have proved early that they can carry a franchise. Their salaries are dictated by the league maximum, which actually would go up were they to opt out and sign somewhere new (or, perversely, re-sign). Most players still rely on the time-honored traditions of negotiation, playing chicken with GMs and living off the fat of the NBA's policy of guaranteed contracts.

For evidence of this, look no further than the draft class of 2004. Dwight Howard, that year's resident stud, signed a long-term deal with the Orlando Magic last summer -- the customary time for impressive young players to agree to terms. That way, they never reach restricted free agency, which allows for a mitigated bidding war.

Howard, arguably the league's most dominant big man, was a no-brainer max contract. But the class of '04 is famously rich with players whose exact value remains a mystery.

There's Emeka Okafor, a voracious rebounder and proficient shot blocker. Okafor has a history of injury, lacks offense and isn't quite a center or power forward. Ben Gordon, his former UConn teammate, can pile up points but seems best suited to the sixth-man role. Luol Deng and Andre Iguodala are ultra-skilled but lacking in leading-man chutzpah.

Josh Smith is a frightening raw talent who can be, well, frighteningly raw at times. And, to a lesser extent, Smith's teammate Childress is a jack-of-all-trades who has gone largely unnoticed in that NBA purgatory, Atlanta.

The numbers vary in each case, but the basic story is the same: Team would like to keep player, player wanted too much last summer, team decided to let player enter restricted free agency this summer, praying that no one's stock shot up too dramatically.

This very nearly happened with Smith, who was positively electric for parts of the Hawks' short trip to the playoffs. Lucky for them -- and no doubt part of this gamble -- is the limited amount of cap space floating around the league this summer.

What you end up with, then, is two classes of star: Those placing pressure on their teams to think short-term, or at least allow themselves maximum flexibility, and second-tier guys intent on taking teams for as much money as they can, for as long as possible.

It's not inconceivable that, say, a team trying to meet the expectations of a three-year player might commit to what proves to be a bad Okafor/Iguodala/Deng situation. All of a sudden, one guy's desire to make the market work to his advantage comes into conflict with the aims of the team's focal point: Making moves to keep the barely-tethered superstar around.

You could see a player less genial than Howard annoyed at Rashard Lewis's mega-deal -- when, based on 2007-08, Hedo Turkgolu is the Magic's second-best option. At the same time, Howard's lasts the customary six seasons exactly because he is less ruthless, or at least calculating, than James. Incidentally, is it any accident that LeBron -- whose time in Cleveland was severely hampered by the cataclysmic Larry Hughes signing -- was at the forefront of this deal?

Who knows for sure if James resents Hughes. However, the situation does set up a direct opposition between players insisting their organizations be efficient with their money, and those looking to manipulate the open market to their advantage. Even if this doesn't lead to conflict in the locker room, it's set the stage for a whole new kind of NBA class warfare.

Nathaniel Friedman, a.k.a. Bethlehem Shoals, is a founding member of the NBA blog FreeDarko.com and is a frequent contributor to Sporting News.

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