(Can you start a blog post with an aside?) Just like to point out that if Baron Davis were willing to commute an hour and ten minutes to work, he could actually be THE BARON OF DAVIS. He should seriously consider that, because not one of his current nicknames (according to Wikipedia: B-Diddy, Boom Dizzle, BD, Too Easy, and The Bodyguard) is playoff-ready. (UPDATE: Tom Ziller just pointed out that traffic could make that commute insane, unless Davis pilots his own aircraft, which would make him The Red Baron of Davis. Case closed.)

Can't blame you if you haven't been watching the Dallas vs. Golden State series, especially you East Coasters, because these games have been late. But let me tell you what you have missed: Baron Davis has been the best player in the NBA since the playoffs began.

It has not been close. Davis is just going for the jugular every second he's out there. It's like he just found out he has some dreadful fatal disease or something, and has to produce his life's work in the next few weeks. He's leaving it all out there, for sure.

Not only is he incredibly fast with the ball, but he's also a powerhouse. When he can't beat defenders down the court, he jabs, jukes, or bulls his way past them and finishes strong at the rim, with a fadeaway, a spin, or a quality kick-out.

I'm certain he has made mistakes during this series, but other than getting ejected, none leaps to mind at the moment.

It's hard to imagine that he could be slowed down by much of anything.

Which makes you wonder: where did all this come from? Davis has almost always been, to me, yet another NBA would-be superstar. Half the league has the tools to be amazing, but goes a whole career without putting it together so magnificently for some reason or another.

It had seemed that Davis was destined for a career of coulda, shoulda, woulda. (Although, I should point out, he was a strong candidate for the funniest player in the NBA even before all this.)

But now that's all different. From a few minutes ago on this here very website (Insider):

Alex (Little Rock): I may be jumping the gun here, but Baron Davis Finals MVP?

John Hollinger: (11:18 AM ET ) That's not just jumping the gun, that's more like running the entire race, taking a victory lap and assuming a spot at the medal stand before the gun goes off.

I hear where you're coming from, though, Alex. I mean, Baron Davis can really give you something to dream on, can't he?

I mean, a guy who has seen plenty of NBA action, Yahoo's Steve Kerr, is tossing around a phrase that makes "Finals MVP" look tame:

A friend of mine called me Sunday morning and said, "I think Baron Davis could be the best athlete in the world."

After watching Davis dominate the Dallas Mavericks again in the Golden State Warriors' 103-99 win on Sunday, I think I might agree.

The guy is so strong, fast and under control that it's tough to imagine a better athlete in any sport. Think about it: Can you see him playing free safety in football? How much ground would he cover? What if he had played soccer his whole life -- how good would he be? Tennis? The guy would run down every ball and pound overheads off the court.

Fortunately for basketball fans, Baron chose hoops. What a joy it is to watch this guy play. He has unbelievable control of the ball, and he builds a head of steam and still is able to change directions going full speed in the lane.

Joey from the blog Straight Bangin' deserves the last word here, though, taking us right back to when Davis was the next great high-schooler (massive quote reproduced with Joey's permission):

Equipped with an excellent handle, the ability to jump out of the gym, speed that made him nearly unguardable, and even a jump shot, Baron Davis, I was told, could do it all. Audacious but gifted, and capable of dropping dimes, hitting from anywhere, and absorbing contact while finishing, he was the best possible version of the point guard Stephon Marbury always should have been. And he wasn't even that tall--he was just that good. He even had the kind of name that lent itself to promotion and cultural transcendence. A kid who loved John Wooden but held against UCLA the fact that the O'Bannon-era teams weren't especially likable, I was even a little scared of Davis, mostly because I envied that UCLA, and not a Michigan or UConn or UNC, had secured the services of a basketball Jesus.

Baron Davis was supposed to change the game.

But as we all now sadly know, the game changed him. Far from the messianic figure he was slated to become, Davis's career has amounted to little more than periodic but fleeting sensational displays of athleticism strewn across an otherwise blank canvas of the pedestrian. There have been too many losses and too many nights shooting 7-23 with 8 turnovers to allow the soaring dunks and determined jumpers to stand as a clear legacy. He operates with a seductive flair that makes his triumphs even greater, but they are unfortunately not enough. Of course, that Davis is not what many thought he might be owes largely to injuries that have derailed so many seasons. The knees, the back--still not even thirty-years-old, Baron Davis is an old man who was robbed of a prime. It is a testament to his enduring preternatural ability that he can continue to summon so much esteem and command so much good will among fans of my ilk.

Davis will surely go down as the sort of player that had to be seen to be properly appreciated, because the stats and the records won't ever present an accurate portrait. And when searching for a snapshot of his greatness, last night's Game Four against Dallas would be sufficient. It was a grand display of bittersweet basketball. For every resilient pull-up, confident drive, and exhilarating moment, there was the sorrowful understanding that what was taking place was enhanced by its rarity. There was also the nagging concern that the next play could always result in a crippling injury. As great as Davis is when driving to the rim and banging inside, how can any fan not worry that a knee will get tweaked or his back will act up? To root for Baron Davis is to experience the pangs of mixed emotion.

Davis, himself, seems to exude this mournful realism. Whether it is the beard that makes him look somewhat grizzled, the knowing eyes that always seem to grasp much of what is also unsaid, or the expressions of moderated enthusiasm, Baron appears as though he's always participating in the collective sadness that his fans cannot shed while assessing him and watching him work. There is a tragic element to his persona ever more pronounced as he succeeds, and he likely knows it. That lends an urgency to his and to the Warriors' cause; we can't squander this wonderful moment because who knows if we will see it again.

UPDATE: Blogger Jack Brown called this thing practically perfectly (while also lobbying to get us all to agree on Boom Dizl as the best nickname -- I'm OK with that until he moves to Davis). Brown wrote this on April 21:

I'm just wondering why nobody is putting any noise behind a very Baron playoffs. I've heard plenty about how interesting the Mavs vs. Warriors is: the Mav's haven't beat the Warriors yet this season, the Don Nelson thing, Warriors peaking.

What about Boom Dizl? I can't shake his 2002 playoff performance out of my thoughts. That was the year he carried his team (averaging 22 8 and 8), before losing a crucial game due to the ref incorrectly waiving off a sweet buzzer beater.

Baron isn't a big fan of keeping in shape during the offseason, and he's hurt all time (the former definitely isn't helping the latter, I wonder if he gets the connection). But when he's locked in, he's shown he can take it to a level very few others can.

Does he still have it like that? He's had a great season, but that playoff performance was greatness, rather or not his critics want to give him that kind of credit. With that Baron Davis on your team, you can beat anybody in the playoffs.

Also: more fresh stuff from today's Warriors practice on Warriors.com, including Don Nelson saying: "I've coached some great players, but I've never coached a guy that's any better than Baron Davis." 

(Photo: Getty Images)