Slam Dunk Contest

[swvasport_7 10]

Who is watching the Slam Dunk Contest? Who does everybody think will win?

 

Players in the contest: Jamario Moon, Gerald Green (defending champ), Rudy Gay, Dwight Howard

 

I am for Dwight Howard becuse I am a Orlando Magic fan.

 

8 pm on TNT

[seth_hill 10]

Dwight Howard Is Just Plain "SICK NASTY"

[GetMoney55 11]

wasnt able to watch it tonight. who won?

[JamesL_CcLB34 10]

Dwight Howard bcuz as seth said he is SICK NASTY! you'll be able to watch them on youtube here by tomorrow probably there worth watchin i'd say

[swvasport_7 10]

Howard is a beast. Some of those dunks i didnt think were possible. He is my favorite player in the nba (he plays for my favorite team.)

 

Here is him preparing for the dunk contest

 

 

More than likely most of his dunks during the contest will be on youtube tomar.

[trublue 939]

Atlantan Howard wins NBA dunk contest

 

The Associated Press

Published on: 02/16/08

New Orleans — Look, up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane, it's Dwight Howard — super slam dunk champion.

 

A red cape trailing behind him, Orlando's man of steel made like Superman and won perhaps the best dunk contest, definitely the most creative, in NBA history to close a memorable All-Star Saturday.

 

Using a variety of props as well as teammate Jameer Nelson, the former Southwest Atlanta Christian star scored perfect 50s from judges on his first two dunks before the contest was turned over to fan voting for the first time in the final round.

 

Fans, too, picked the 6-foot-11 Howard, who dispelled an old dunking myth: Big men can fly high.

 

In any other year, Minnesota's Gerald Green would have easily walked away with his second straight dunking crown, but he was upstaged by the amazingly athletic Howard, whose performance has to rank up there with anything Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant, Vince Carter or even tiny Spud Webb ever did above the basket.

 

The dunk contest, bland for so many years as the game's high risers seemed to run out of ideas, was freshened up by some of the most creative aerial assaults in memory.

 

Howard, Green, Toronto's Jamario Moon and Memphis' Rudy Gay all used tape, ladders, teammates and even a tasty dessert to show their stuff.

 

Howard started things off with a see-through dunk. Standing on the baseline, he tossed the ball off the reverse side of the backboard, caught it with both hands, and after peering through the glass at the rim, dunked left-handed.

 

The crowd roared and a celebrity panel of judges including Magic Johnson, Karl Malone as well as Dominique Wilkins, Julius Erving and Darryl Dawkins — three of the game's most famed dunkers — all gave him perfect 10s.

 

Not to be outdone, Green tried to blow the field away. Literally.

 

After Timberwolves teammate Rashad McCants climbed up and placed a cupcake with a single candle in it on the back of the rim, Green soared in and puffed out the flame before throwing down a nasty left-hander.

 

In the second round, McCants sat on the top step of the ladder and handed the ball off to a rising Green, who crushed another dunk.

 

That's when Howard stripped off his blue Magic jersey to reveal an "S" on his chest. He then donned the cape, and after a running start from near mid-court, took off just inside the free-throw line and fired down the ball.

 

In the final round, Green performed two acrobatic dunks, one in only green socks after removing his sneakers. But neither of those could top Howard's last two efforts.

 

First, Howard bounced the ball off the floor, tapped it left-handed off the backboard and dunked with his right hand. For Howard's finale, Nelson affixed a miniature Orlando backboard next to the rim and balanced a ball on it.

 

Howard flew in from the right side, picked the ball off cleanly and slammed it in. He then only had to wait for fans to text message a result that seemed to be a no-brainer. Howard won in a landslid, receiving 78 percent of the vote.

 

Earlier, Jason Kapono showed nobody's close to him from long distance.

 

The NBA's best 3-point shooter this season, the Toronto forward with the silky touch won his second straight 3-point Shootout, tying a 22-year-old record with a final round of 25.

 

Kapono missed his first two shots in the last round before dropping 10 straight. By the time he approached the last rack of balls, Kapono had already clinched the win and didn't have to fire up another shot.

 

But he knocked down a few more anyway, matching three-time winner Craig Hodges' mark of 25 set in 1986. When his final shot swished through, Kapono, who made all five money balls — worth two points apiece — and went 20-for-25 in the last round, slapped high-fives with other All-Stars and hugged Raptors teammate Chris Bosh.

 

Cleveland's Daniel Gibson, who made 11 3-pointers in Friday night's rookie challenge finished second. He scored 17 points in the final round, finishing three points ahead of Dallas' Dirk Nowitzki, who replaced the injured Bryant.

 

Kapono almost didn't get out of the first round. He was in danger of elimination as he approached the last rack but came through in the clutch by sinking five straight shots to advance.

 

In the Skills Challenge, Utah's Deron Williams was flawless and fast.

 

With a nearly perfect run through an obstacle course of dribbling, passing and shooting, the Jazz point guard defeated New Orleans playmaker Chris Paul in the final round.

 

Williams blazed up, down and around the floor of the New Orleans Arena in 25.5 seconds, a new record for the six-year-old event. Cheered on by his home crowd, Paul, who completed the circuit in 29.9 seconds in the first round, finished in 31.2 seconds for second place.

 

In the night's first event, San Antonio's Becky Hammon, David Robinson and Tim Duncan won the Shooting Stars competition. It featured three-person teams consisting of an NBA player, a WNBA player and a former NBA great from the same city. Contestants had to make six shots with the final one a heave from mid-court.

[trublue 939]

A "little" background on Howard for interested readers:

________________________________________________________

 

Dwight Howard, the Magic's teenage rookie, is stepping from a sheltered life of faith, family, hoops and friends to the flashy NBA.

 

By Mike Tierney | Special to the Sentinel

Posted July 18, 2004

 

Editor's note: Mike Tierney, a reporter for The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, spent the past year covering Dwight Howard and his senior season at Southwest Atlanta Christian Academy. He wrote this story about Howard's life especially for the Orlando Sentinel.

 

Team Howard had staged a friendly takeover of the first floor at the ESPN Zone restaurant in Manhattan. A few hours after Dwight Howard completed the Beamon-esque leap from senior at a Lilliputian high school to top pick in the NBA draft at nearby Madison Square Garden, a party had broken out. Non-alcoholic, to be sure.

 

Friends, family and relatives milled about . . . with classmates, faculty and administrators from Howard's Southwest Atlanta Christian Academy . . . with fellow worshippers and officials of Fellowship of Faith International church that owns the academy, a veritable one-room schoolhouse in this era of college-sized campuses for kids.

 

Howard, resplendent in a suit tailored especially for the draft, ambled up to me, his trademark smile revealing braces that affirm his youth. "Are you going to Orlando, for real?" he asked.

 

I had been shadowing him nearly 10 months in Atlanta for a series of articles on a man-child's last year of carefree innocence before he morphed into a multimillionaire, autograph-churning, groupie-dodging, moocher-hounded, paparazzi-ducking celebrity. He was growing weary of my invasion into his privacy -- "Still not dating anyone, Dwight?" -- and I had teased that, if he wound up with the Magic, I might piggyback on his move south.

 

Frankly, I was counting on at least a sniff of scandal when I pitched the story idea in September to Dwight Sr., a state trooper and athletic director at the school that offered two sports. Having followed from afar LeBron James' farewell to academia and amateurism, I expected entourages, expensive vintage jerseys, clinging women, Hummers, pockets stuffed with Benjamins. Some of the above, scaled-down, certainly.

 

Instead, I got a close circle of friends from his church, nerdy school uniforms, girls as pals only, a 1984 Ford Crown Victoria that cost his father $900 and a wallet empty of not only Benjamins but Washingtons.

 

Once, I inquired how much money he was carrying. His thumb and index finger formed the shape of a zero.

 

Dwight Sr. and his wife, Sheryl, a phys-ed teacher at the school, kept their second of three children on a short leash long before he became a magazine cover boy, nor had they loosened it much as his fame mushroomed. He still observed a curfew. Still had household chores. Still attended church several times weekly. Still largely was unspoiled in this material world. For his 18th birthday, his parents got him . . . an alarm clock. With his cousin's cash gift, he rushed out to buy his favorite DVD: Finding Nemo.

 

The Howards' hands-on parenting was doubly motivated. First, Dwight Sr. is a professed born-again Christian who subscribes to the notion of a traditional family structure with a firm authority figure.

 

By today's standards, Dad might be considered strict, even meddling. Young Howard had no cable TV in his room, lest he be tempted to sample salacious fare. Most rap music was off-limits, though Howard did pop in some Pastor Troy in the "Vic." The closest he ever came to cursing in my presence was a cross between "damn" and "dang." He received no allowance and few presents, even on Christmas, just enough cash and clothes to get by.

 

He was equipped with a cell phone, largely so Dad could keep track of his whereabouts. That was never difficult. The borders in Howard's limited universe were defined by his church, school, area gyms and the mall where he took in movies. Late nights out were green-lighted with a simple call home for permission.

 

Also, the Howards considered Dwight something of a miracle child. Sheryl had given birth to a healthy daughter, TaShanda, then lost seven other babies, including two sets of twins, to miscarriage. She was bedridden for the duration of her pregnancy with Dwight. (Their "baby," Jahaziel, is a rising sophomore.)

 

No prototypical man-child

 

Young Howard was a father figure himself -- or, more like big brother -- to the 222 other African-American and Jamaican students, ranging down to preschool level, at the academy, the only school he ever graced. Walking the narrow hallway, he often paused and bowed his 6-foot-11 self to low-five or fist-bump an elementary schooler and inquire about how they were doing in school. The smaller tykes might latch on to Howard's leg for a free ride, which he provided willingly.

 

Teachers adored him, even as his scholastic interests progressively faded. Howard knew before the school bell rang on opening day that he was skipping college. His desire to retake the Scholastic Aptitude Test and improve on his score in the 900s dissipated. In second semester, road trips with the Warriors, all-star games, banquets and NBA draft business kept him out of school for 17 days and daydreaming while there.

 

In the classroom, he charmed instructors with his creativity. During a lesson on a flag-burning amendment, he disguised himself, if not very well, with a wig and accent to present a European's point of view.

 

A spiritual foundation

 

Religion is pervasive at his school, injected into many courses, even into sports. Home games are preceded by prayer, with many spectators reverentially extending their arms, palms-up, and shutting their eyes. Light rap with gospel themes blared over the public-address system. (Coaches spot-check players' personal CDs to weed out unsavory material.) At pep rallies -- at which Howard often served as emcee, seeking laughs by wearing a Buckwheat wig -- students and faculty stomped their feet to lyrics such as, "JEE-sus. He SAVED us. He MADE us. He LOVES us."

 

Howard was at home in this environment. He wears his spirituality on his sleeve as prominently as the ring on his finger signifying an Amateur Athletic Union tournament championship.

 

"I use basketball," he often says in so many words, "to show what God has given me."

 

He prays for specific blessings and is answered so often that it comes as a surprise to him when a wish is not granted.

 

On the night of the NBA draft lottery, Howard was taken aback when the Atlanta Hawks, the team of his choice, did not beat odds of nearly 10-1 and draw first, as he had anticipated. (His audible "Please, no Clippers" plea apparently was heeded when Orlando landed at No. 1.)

 

No easy mark

 

Howard is hardly gentle on the court but is no elbow-throwing, smack-talking Shaq knockoff, either. Bullied often last season by triple-teaming opponents, he displayed little more emotion than a "Can I get a call, puuulllleeeeease?" to the referee. Even then, he felt pangs of guilt.

 

One game, a 5-foot-10 bantamweight whom he had arm-wrestled to the floor stalked toward him, hand-gesturing as a come-on to fight. Howard raised his arms in a pose of peace and retreated. Then he went over to the bleachers and calmed his agitated father.

 

Those traits, plus a stereotype of spiritual athletes reinforced by the supremely gifted but even-keeled David Robinson, widely got Howard branded as "soft" before the draft. While watching the lottery in his living room, he heard the slur from an ESPN analyst, who urged the Magic to select Emeka Okafor.

 

He did not vent with a "damn/dang," his version of an epithet. Rather, Howard burned off his frustration by going out to shoot baskets, at 9 p.m. From that point on, whenever he needed to ratchet up the intensity in workouts, Howard had a Pavlovian response to one word uttered by his father: Emeka.

 

Tacked to his bedroom wall was a list of eight goals that a considerably shorter Howard scribbled around his entry into the ninth grade. One has been publicized widely: To become the first draft pick. But a subsequently stated ambition is more outrageous: Convince the NBA commissioner to add a cross to the league logo, the one with the silhouette of Jerry West.

 

For starters, the commish, David Stern, is Jewish. To which Howard says, "So?"

 

Moreover, pro sports leagues, preferring to convey all-inclusiveness, maintain their distance from overtly religious icons.

 

On a mission, of sorts

 

Still, Howard sees himself on a mission to alter the image of the NBA player from narcissistic party animal to teetotaling churchgoer. He has backed off from any notions of outright proselytizing in the locker room but has no intention of stuffing those beliefs in his zipped gym bag.

 

At the final buzzer of each high-school game, whether a loss to Landmark Christian Academy on national television or a victory against Whitefield Academy for the state championship, Howard deferred his mourning/celebrating and assembled players from both teams into a ringlet at center court for a kneel-down prayer. If time permits, he tacks on "God bless" to each signed autograph.

 

_________________

[swvasport_7 10]

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