Editor, ESPN have differing prediction methods

One morning as I was watching TV, eating my Lucky Charms and poring over the possible matchups in the uber-tight Western Conference NBA playoffs race, my cat suddenly inherited the urge to head-butt the bottom of my bowl and send its contents flying all over my ratty carpet.

The carpet is ratty because this wasn’t the first time Kitty (that’s my creative name for her) has head-butted a General Mills product all over the floor.

Nevertheless, I shouted, “C’MON, Kitty! Quit coming after me Lucky Char—” but I stopped abruptly when I noticed a design materialize from the spilled remains.

Brushing aside my cat (by now, she was licking up the milk), my eyes widened as if I were Indiana Jones and I had just discovered the Lost Ark.

All around the outskirts of the mess lied the marshmallows in similar clusters — the clovers with the clovers, the rainbows with the rainbows, and so on with the rest of our favorite magical charms.

What I found at the center of the spill, however, blew my mind. The yuckier grain parts of the cereal actually spelled out the letters “NBA!” 

OK, it actually spelled something like a backwards “N,” an upside-down “P,” and more of an “H” than an “A,” but, honestly, can you ignore a coincidence like that? Anyone would know that Lucky really meant to say “NBA.”

With the eight marshmallow shapes spread out before me, I instantly realized this was the good old leprechaun’s way of revealing the future of the eight-team West playoff seedings and results!

From there it was easy to piece together the marshmallows with the identities of the teams: the horseshoes represented the Spurs (whose symbol IS a horseshoe), the pots of gold shared the same shade as Lakers’ gold, the stars looked eerily like the Rockets logo, and so on.

According to the Prophecy of the Charms, the pots of gold swarmed all over the moons at a ratio of about 4:1. Which means the Lakers should beat Dallas in five.

I also saw a cluster of balloons barely outnumber the stars. Folks, it looks as if the No. 7 Hornets will pull off an upset over the No. 2 Rockets. 

And why shouldn’t they? Tyson Chandler returns to New Orleans next week just in the nick of time for the postseason. The Hornets were 34-16 with the shot-blocking big man in the lineup and a dismal 12-15 without him.

In similar fashion, the Jazz’s cluster of clovers (which is fitting because they share a D-League team with the clover-logo Celtics) just outnumbered Denver’s rainbows (also fitting because the Nuggets are a bunch of sissy girls). 

This made sense. While both hold strong home records, it’s more likely that the Jazz steal one in Denver than the Nuggets taking one in Salt Lake.

The last battle of marshmallow clusters had Portland’s hearts topping the Spurs’ horseshoes in six games. No real surprise for the Blazers. They play with a lot of heart.

That was the last of the revelation and thus, the first round. 

I started to panic. What happens in the second round?? Utah’s Deron Williams is about to meet New Orleans’ Chris Paul for the playoff battle of the century!

Then an idea so simple struck me with the force of a cat’s head-butt.

I ran back to the kitchen and poured myself another bowl of cereal, this time separating the losing teams’ marshmallows out of the bowl and leaving the pots of gold, the balloons, the hearts and the clovers.

I poured the milk and carried it back into the living room.

“Kitty, jump!”

Boom — the second round. 

To my surprise, the Lakers struggled to beat the Blazers in seven games. But the Jazz, who own the Hornets, handled New Orleans in a quick five-game series.

One more bowl was poured — this time only pots of gold and clovers were left — and one more head-butt.

I peered into the third muddled pile in my living room to see who would be going to the 2009 NBA Finals. Could my beloved Jazz finally beat the Lakers and move on for their first title in franchise history? I would weep joyous tears!

Before I carefully counted out the ratio of marshmallows, I was startled to hear a loud pounding at the door.

And before I even answered, I could hear my co-worker Sam Robinson’s muffled shouting on the other side: “Dude! I know who’s gonna win the NBA championship!”

I rushed to open the door. “WHO???”

“I was eating Alphabits this morning and it spelled out ‘Lakers!’” he said. “Well, it was actually an ‘H’ instead of an ‘A’ but it was close enou—”

I slammed the door before he could finish.

Alphabits... please!

Who believes in that stuff, anyway?