Trail Blazers tripped up in Texas

The Texas Two-Step turned into the Texas Chainsaw Massacre for the Portland Trail Blazers this past weekend.

Two games, two losses, and both were horror shows in their own special way.

It all started Friday night in Houston. The Blazers dug themselves an early hole that they could not climb out of, losing 89-85. Of course, it didn't help that the Blazers had more turnovers than a bakery. They gave the ball away 18 times for 27 Houston points.

Quicker than you could say, "gee, Yao Ming is one tall drink of water," Portland's five-game winning streak was history.

If Friday's loss in Houston was humbling, then Saturday night's 111-91 blitzkrieg at the hands of the Dallas Mavericks was humiliating.

It was as if the Blazers were a four-year-old boy, and the Mavericks were taking the child behind the woodshed for an "attitude adjustment." That's how bad it was for the Blazers.

The Blazers played like the proverbial 98-pound weakling on the beach who gets sand kicked in his face by the muscle-bound bully.

Well, there's 23 games left for the Blazers to hit the weight room. Otherwise, the Western Conference opponents still left on the schedule will keep kicking the sand, and the 98-pound weaklings from Portland are going to get buried under it.

Sure, the Trail Blazers have no trouble with handling the other weaklings on the beach, but there aren't many 98-pound weaklings left on the schedule.

Jeez. The Blazers were playing so well before crossing the Texas border. What happened?

I was all set to declare the race for the Western Conference's eighth and final playoff spot up for grabs.

The Portland Trail Blazers were on fire and blazing a trail back to the playoffs, and it was supposed to be the Denver Nuggets who got burned.

And who had lit the match?

Theo Ratliff.

He had almost single-handedly brought the Portland Trail Blazers back from the dead.

The Blazers' starting center had helped resurrect a franchise that just a few short weeks ago was languishing near the bottom of the Western Conference standings and in danger of missing the playoffs for the first time since 1982.

They had won five games in a row and 12 of their previous 16 before the Texas trip. The Trail Blazers were just two games behind the Denver Nuggets for the final playoff spot in the West.

Then they hit Texas, and Texas hit back. Hard.

However, before they hit a sour note in Texas, the Blazers were playing music as sweetly as a Symphony orchestra, and Ratliff was the conductor.

Sure, there were other Blazers who deserved some of the credit, like newcomers Darius Miles and Shareef Abdur-Rahim.

Miles' career appeared to have been re-energized by becoming a Trail Blazer. Could he be the next Jermaine O'Neal, who languished in Portland for four years before going to the Pacers and becoming a star?

Abdur-Rahim had been phenomenal. He was everything that had been advertised. He was the consummate team player who wanted to win at all costs and sacrifice anything -- including playing time and a starting job -- in order to make the playoffs for the first time in his career.

Zach Randolph had been steady, piling up double-doubles like pancakes at an all-you-can-eat breakfast bar.

Derek Anderson had been hitting so many back-breaking shots that the opposition needed a chiropractor after the game.

Damon Stoudamire had gone from the dog house to the penthouse in a little less than a year.

Even Ruben Patterson had joined the party. Just a couple of weeks ago he and Randolph were grumbling to the media about playing time, but during the Blazers' recent resurrection, Patterson had been playing passionately and with reckless abandon.

However, it was Ratliff who deserved the largest share of the credit for the Blazers' sudden resurgence.

In fact, Ratliff had been so good, I thought he deserved a nickname.

Jesus already had "The Savior" moniker.

And Karl Malone already was "The Mailman."

Let's call Ratliff, "The Postman," I thought to myself.

Just ask the Orlando Magic. "The Postman" emphatically and authoritatively stamped "Return to Sender" on nine of their shots last Tuesday night.

Now that's what I called first-class defense.

Ratliff's brand of defense gave new-meaning to "Going Postal" on someone.

The Blazers hadn't had this type of defensive presence since a tall read-head manned the middle back in the 1970's.

Thanks in large part to Ratliff and his shot-blocking prowess, the Blazers were fun to watch again.

The Texas Two-Step seemed to change all that, at least for one weekend. Now the Blazers are 29-30 and three games behind the Denver Nuggets for the eighth seed in the West.

The moral of this story? If you're either a 98-pound weakling or the Portland Trail Blazers, stay away from Texas.

Rent "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" and watch it at home.