At the Buzzer, The Sound of Something New

They figured out that half of Ruffin is more valuable than two Kwame Browns.

They figured out that Haywood (17 points, 7 rebounds, 5 blocks) is the best big man in this series.

They figured out, after playing no defense whatsoever for two games, that you cannot win in the playoffs by simply trying to outscore the other guy.

They figured out that you have to play harder in the playoffs than you ever thought you could play.

"Figuring out what has to be done and making adjustments is what playoff basketball is all about," TNT analyst Steve Kerr said Wednesday night.

The Wizards didn't really know what was required to succeed in the playoffs, but they're learning.

And as a result, the Fat Lady should be making an appearance on Friday night in Washington. You remember the Fat Lady, don't you? She was the rage back in 1979 when the Washington basketball team last won a seven-game playoff series (over San Antonio in the Eastern Conference finals).

Washington has been so far off the NBA radar for so long, you'd have to be 35 years old at the very least to get the reference, to recall it was Bullets Coach Dick Motta who in 1978 uttered the words, "The Opera ain't over 'till the fat lady sings." Well, she ought to be warming up now, because this series is over.

The Wizards knew by the end of Monday's Game 4 in Washington they were the better team, and proved it Wednesday night, earning the franchise's first road playoff win since April 18, 1986, in Philadelphia.

Talk about improbable. . . . In the Chicago Bulls' 39 seasons, they are 27-0 in series with the home-court advantage. Also, the Bulls are 29-1 in series when winning Game 1.

You want more? The Wizards, if they can finish this thing off, will be just the ninth team in NBA history to win a seven-game series after going 0-2. The better team has been identified. The best player in the series has been identified, too.

It's Arenas, who had the entire play scripted in his head when he left the huddle. He knew he was going to drive left, he knew he wasn't going to pump fake and he knew Tyson Chandler, all 7 feet 1 of him, was coming to block the shot. "So," Arenas thought to himself, "stop before you get to the foul line." Sure enough, look at the replay and you can see Chandler coming up behind Hinrich to block Arenas's shot.

But Arenas also envisioned it going in. He envisioned walking off the floor triumphantly, just like he dreamed as a kid, just like Jordan did when he'd shoot over Craig Ehlo or Gerald Wilkins or Bryon Russell in the playoffs, swish at the buzzer.

It's the last bit of drama Arenas wants, at least in this series. "We don't want to come back here," he said. "This [win] doesn't mean anything if we have to come back to this building."