Right through the fingers

Stop me if you've heard this one before: Houston team in dire need of some fireworks, strategically and PR-wise, has an eye-popping talent fall into its lap on draft day. The city raises its voice in victory, looking forward to the totally rehabilitated season ahead. Then, the unthinkable: the franchise opts for good sense and sound planning over a thousand hours worth of dynamism.

Okay, so Rudy Gay isn't exactly Reggie Bush, the Rockets hardly as dismal as the Texans, and the promise of a new day lasted only about ten minutes, not ten months. Shane Battier is proven and useful, and getting rid of Stromile Swift's odious contract allows them some off-season flexibility. But we at Houstonist felt an all-too-familiar feeling deep in our intenstines when Rudy Gay—a supremely athletic, limitlessly talented kid who was arguably the best player in last night's NBA Draft—got dealt for a solid Duke alum whose most salient quality is his moral fiber. Though the Rockets didn't do what we wanted, they probably did the right thing (the unofficial theme of this year's fairly unremarkable draft). Battier's no slouch, and he does a lot of things that the Rockets need done: hits threes, defends well on the wing, provides the glue that keep a faltering team from falling apart. Still, visions of Gay and T-Mac leaping over the entire league for the next few years were beautiful while they lasted.

We'll blame the residual angst on the demon Bob McNair. He's like the screwed up older brother whose disciplinary problems get felt by the younger sibling.

Photo: Scout.com