Nothing recovers from a hangover faster than Vegas. It's like the city itself breathes the same revitalizing, super-concentrated, Woody Harrelson-endorsed oxygen pumped through casinos that the rest of us do. There simply isn't time to suffer. There are too many games to be played, too much money to be lost, too many opportunities to take advantage of, too many meals at the Peppermill to be had.

For example, let's consider the reaction to the Derrick Rose injury from two perspectives: the layman's and the professional's. In the layman camp, except for the tone-deaf dude from Nike, Rose's torn ACL is universally recognized as tragic.

At least in the way of sports, not in the way of life. Excepting those who hate Adidas, to everyone else who loves sports, Rose and the Bulls are eminently likable. This team has been the NBA's best regular-season team the past two seasons, and yet it's hard for anyone to truly feel about them the way they do about the Lakers or the Celtics or the Heat. The Bulls take the game seriously and take themselves seriously. And that comes from Rose. He tries so damn hard, even with 90 seconds left in a playoff game one could easily argue he should have been pulled from. He plays like Allen Iverson during that run to the Finals the Sixers had more than a decade ago, when Larry Brown was the coach. Rose so carelessly invites harm when he pushes toward the hoop you always worry: Is this going to be it?