When I was eleven my most valuable possession was a 1989 Donruss Ken Griffey, Jr. rookie card. I knew it was my most valuable possession, because that was a topic of conversation that came up often in my circle. Nobody ever contested my claim. Ken Griffey, Jr., called simply "Griffey" by us, was a god. That summer he belted 40 home runs and hit well-over .300. Not only that, though; Griffey was cool. He even looked cool on the lame Donruss card with the words, "Rated Rookie" printed in trying-too-hard font. He even looked cool playing for the Skedaddle Mariners.

Two years later my mother told me that unless I got up to a C or better in 7th grade Spanish, I wouldn't play ball that summer. There was no way that would happen. It was a few months into the semester and I was failing. Tears screaming down my red-hot face, I tore a Griffey poster off of my wall and forged a progress report that night (got caught). That summer Griffey was injured and played in only 72 games. A little bit Catholic, I was sure it was my fault.

Luckily, Ken Griffey, Jr. did recover from the incident. In fact, earlier this month he hit his 537th career home run to move past Mickey Mantle in the category. He's smacked the 12th most of any MLB player. On Sunday, though, he missed his fourth straight game. He's getting old, yes, and he's had his fair share of surgeries, yes. He hasn't played in 130 games in five seasons, a time period in which he hit .277 and collected an average of 19.6 home runs per season -- lousy stats for a Great. But Griffey still plays the game with grace and style. His surpassing Mantle is one of the only home run milestones that we can legitimately feel good about in the last decade. It'd be a shame to shrug it off, even if he ain't what he used to be.

This week the National Basketball Association Playoffs will begin. And then they will rage on for two full months. There will be four seven-game rounds. Sixteen teams will make the playoffs. Only fourteen will not. Writers on the NBA beat call it the Second Season for a reason.

Commissioner David Stern's office has apparently drawn this lesson from the Michael Jordan era: Teevee equals revenue. Stern prizes those teevee ratings and Jordan gave him the impression that there would be viewers for every playoff game anywhere any time. Want to see four senseless games next week in which the mighty Detroit Pistons slap around Chicago or Philadelphia? Stern thinks you do. He thinks as much damn teevee as possible equals untold riches.

It certainly equals boring basketball.

For a league that so jealousy protects its brand, this is a strange dilution of product. The seven and eight seeds are rarely good teams. In the still-weak Eastern Conference, sub-.500 ball clubs will make it to the post-season. And when the league expanded even the first round to seven games a few years ago it removed the one interesting aspect of having all those teams in the playoffs: low seeded teams are unlikely to upset top seeds in a long, drawn-out series. In a five-gamer, the eighth seed would occasionally steal three and we'd all be treated to the iconic image of Dikembe Mutombo weeping over the slain, top-ranked Seattle Supersonics. This doesn't happen in seven games. The favorite will slog it out and advance.

The two sports that have an edge in the popular consciousness -- baseball for its classicism, football for its popularity -- have much more streamlined playoff structure. Eight MLB teams and 12 NFL clubs make their respective post-seasons. Even including the senseless two week hiatus between league championships and the Superbowl, both playoffs last only one month, with the country staying excited and invested throughout. Even though baseball playoffs have expanded over the years, it still means something to win the division and make the post-season. In the NBA, it is much more telling to not make the playoffs.

The often-heard, but rarely-justified trope that college basketball is somehow better than the pros has almost everything to do with its exciting playoff format. It is the Tournament and not the alleged purity of the college game that gets people excited. In comparison, the NBA playoff structure is lumbering, unruly and -- most unforgivably -- boring. If the Commish insists on four rounds and sixteen teams -- that is, if he can't find four or eight owners willing to give up their playoff revenue -- then at least make those first rounds exciting.

The first, currently-meaningless round, ought to shortened to three games. Anyone could win a three game series. Upsets would increase exponentially. The first week of NBA playoffs would be one of the most exciting in sports. The best teams would have to bring their A-game on day one of the post-season. Then restore the second frame to five-game status. Save the seven-round slugfests for the conference and league championships. Not only would the whole process be more exciting (and did you ever think, Mr. Stern, that a lack of excitement, and not just the retirement of Herr Jordan, might be the cause for ratings dips?) but the whole thing might even wrap up in one month.

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