Wow. You get caught up in other projects, get a little busy, and suddenly you wake up and they changed the blog name on you.

Just kidding. This has been in the works for a while. The online powers-that-be suggested a few months ago that it was time for this blog to have a distinct name and a distinct identity, something a little more creative than just my name slapped on top of it. Everyone else's blog does, and always has, from Roch Around the Clock to Medium Well to O, by the Way to, in other departments, Random Rodricks.

I agreed. I just had a problem nailing something down, partly because the new name would have to truly capture what this blog was all about, and partly because I couldn't live with a corny, unimaginative play on my last name. The blog name was not going to rhyme, was not going to be alliterative, was not going to refer to Superman or metal or something being stolen. I've been hearing lines like that since kindergarten. Enough, thank you.

But "Steele Press'' fits. For one, outdated as the term is, I'm still a member of the press. For another, this has become a gathering place for the hidden, silent not-quite-minority of basketball fans, especially NBA fans, especially rabid NBA playoff watchers, thus the full-court press allusion. For one more, I can't help it, I try to bring a full-court press approach to everything I write for this news organization, print or online.

But I start out under my new name with more of a half-court press. This morning's big takeout on the international influence on American sports, and vice versa, includes a timeline led off by Pele's arrival in the U.S. to play for the Cosmos. How's that for timing? Last night, I finally watched the outstanding documentary Once in a Lifetime: The Extraordinary Story of the New York Cosmos. The title explains it: The rise of the Cosmos in the 1970s generated the one real, true soccer boom in this country. It's also a glimpse of this country, and New York, in particular, in the 1970s (Ed Koch even has a cameo, and the summer of '77, with Studio 54, the blackout and Son of Sam, are noted as well). All the major characters of that time from the Cosmos and with the pro soccer league in which they played are represented, most of them representing themselves -- the notable exception is Pele. You watch it, and if you were around at the time, you realize how much you'd forgotten about how that team really did dominate the sports world in ways that it's unimaginable for any soccer team to do now. Yet the connection to the recognizable names and events in soccer today are made surprisingly clear, proving that it wasn't just a lightning-in-a-bottle moment. The most fun aspect of the film, though, is the evidence that one of Pele's teammates, Giorgio Chinaglia, might have been the most selfish, self-absorbed, greedy, pompous athlete who's ever lived, kind of an Italian soccer-playing blend of Clemens, Schilling and T.O.

And what does this have to do with a half-court press? I used watching this movie, which I've had out on Netflix for too long, as an excuse not to watch the start of the Pistons-Bulls game. When the movie ended, I clicked over; the Bulls were pulling away to a double-digit, first-half lead with about two minutes left ... and the Pistons had scored 28 points. I was appalled. I turned to something else, turned it back on at the end of the third quarter ... and the Pistons had closed the gap to one. I watched the fourth quarter, and the Bulls turned to marshmallows right before my eyes. They never had a chance -- or, better, they had a chance and decided instead to give the softies on the Dallas Mavericks a run for their money.

So what we saw in a pivotal game in the semifinals of the Eastern Conference playoffs last night was the visiting team score 28 points in the first half and 10 in the second quarter -- and the home team turn around, cough up a 19-point lead and score 30 points in the second half, 13 in the fourth quarter (the last three on a meaningless three-point play in the final seconds).

That was putrid. I'm through with the East until the finals. So far, in six East playoff series, there have been three sweeps, one 3-0 lead, one 2-0 and one series that wasn't as close as the 4-2 decision indicates. Just because it's an inferior conference doesn't mean it can't be competitive. The injury-crippled Wizards showed more heart than most of their conference brethren have.

Yet we get the honor of seeing the Pistons and Bulls again on Sunday on ABC. Meanwhile, it appears that the network won't show Utah-Golden State until there are no other games to be played and they're fresh out of Grey's Anatomy reruns. The Warriors can really make a case for being disrespected (including here, since I dismissed this series as being bad for the league last week, and I regret that now) -- they haven't gotten a sniff of network TV yet in two series, and they keep getting stuck with Dick Stockton calling their games. Are Marv Albert and Steve Kerr demanding that they not be assigned to them unless in an emergency?

Game 3 of that series is tonight, and after what happened in Game 2 -- especially with the Derek Fisher subplot -- I can promise I won't be watching any soccer documentary while it's on.