For the third time in my life, I'm not done with the NBA after all. I gave it up for the first time in 1994. My Seattle SuperSonics had just finished the regular season with the league's best record (63-19), only to be sent home from the first round of the playoffs by the eight-seeded Denver Nuggets.

Most people's memory of that series is Dikembe Mutuombo weeping as he rolled around with the ball.

I had to watch the news later to see that. I'd already stormed out of the house for a long walk, contemplating the meaning of life and coming to a big decision (at least insofar as a 16-year-old can be said to contemplate the meaning of life and make big decisions).

No more NBA for this guy, I decided. But as fate would have it, the Sonics' arena was undergoing construction the following season, so they ended up playing their games in Tacoma, where I lived.

What can I say, 16-year-olds aren't known for their deep-rooted convictions, and Gary Payton was playing eight minutes away.

So back on the bandwagon I went, right up until the Sonics were boxed up and shipped from Seattle to Oklahoma City. It was a process that cannot be described as excruciating, because excruciating things don't usually go on and on for years.

So that one stuck for a while. But last year was about as entertaining a season as you can hope for, and I'm nothing if not a pushover.

Which brings us to this month, and the strange path that's led to the Western Conference suddenly becoming nothing short of riveting. When David Stern nixed the Lakers' three-way trade with the Hornets and Rockets that would've brought Chris Paul to LA, I thought I'd be more likely to sit in on a Goldman Sachs boardroom and cheer than watch another NBA game.

I give up. At this point, I'm resigned to the fact Stern could do anything up to and including stealing my cat, and I'd still be up at 5 am looking for a game to watch.

Just look around. The West might be the most intriguing conference in any sport in the last 10 years.

You've got the Clippers, the Johnny-come-latelys who somehow snuck in and landed Paul. By Valentine's Day, there are going to be at least five historical ly cool Paul-to-Blake Griffin alley-oops on YouTube. If you walk into a bar and the Clippers are on, you aren't leaving until it's over.

Even better: The Clippers' grandeur is the Lakers' misery. Instead of Paul and maybe even Dwight Howard, they're left with Kobe Bryant's torn-up wrist and torn-up marriage.

The Mavericks are coming off a title season, and they just added Lamar Odom (sorry again, Lakers). Oklahoma City has another year under its young belts (but for the record, we're going to go ahead and dismiss them because we hate them). The Nuggets are the kind of young, talented team that might be able to thrive in a the brutally compact 66-game season - and if Wilson Chandler and J.R. Smith opt to return to Denver when they're done in China, you might have yourself a darkhorse.

Speaking of darkhorses that could be looking at a tangible upgrade when the CBA season is over Portland just signed Jamal Crawford. Patty Mills, who looked like he was having a breakout season with the Blazers last season, has been electric for the Xinjiang Flying Tigers. Pair him with Crawford, and the Blazers' backcourt might compensate for the retirement of Brandon Roy. Throw in a (probably not) healthy Greg Oden later in the season, and anything's possible.

Just so long as David Stern doesn't come within 100 miles of it.

Dusty Lane is a sports copy editor who would like to wish an exceptionally Merry Christmas to Kelsie and Colbert on the anniversary of their engagement and adoption, respectively. He can be reached at dustin.l.lane@gmail.com.

(China Daily 12/25/2011 page8)