There is a battle going on for the heart and mind of Ronald William Artest, Jr. and unfortunately, not even one of the league's premier defenders over the past 12 years can stop Metta World Peace. Ron Artest, the Hennessy-drinking, fan-punching, former world champion, professional basketball player of yore, is being buried under a pile of shameless and egregious self-promotion so high, we may never see Ron Ron again.
It's a sideline triangle, created by a center in the post, a forward on the wing and a guard at the corner, leaving a two-man game on the weak side, run by a guard at the top of the key and a forward in the opposite-side, high-post position. The triangle offense looks like a factory assembly line. It seems to chug. This guy goes there, that pass is thrown, and the cut is made. Interchangeable gears in a large machine, right? Just keep the conveyor belt moving until the whistle blows, fellas. You get a lunch break after 24 minutes.