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You want a profile of the 2007-08 Phoenix Suns? I'll give you one, but it won't be the standard stat-rattling, month by month recap, or categorical breakdown of weaknesses and strengths you might be accustomed to seeing. This profile began 25 years ago at Burger Hut (at this point, the article will be much better if you wave your fingers and make dream sequence/flashback noises; so if you could play along and do that for me, I'd appreciate it):

Back in high school, I was the assistant fry cook at the local fast food establishment. We were the number one fast food restaurant in the Quad Cities area. We were #1 in on time hamburger distribution, # 1 in order accuracy, and #2 in drive-thru clarity (we would have been #1, but Burger Barn had just installed a brand new, state-of-the-art microphone). We were so good that the company annually invited us to the Fast Food National Championship in Cedar Rapids.

Every year we went, and every year we lost. The frustrating part was we usually had the best restaurant, but something fluky always happened: one year our champion burger-maker sliced his hand cutting a tomato; the next year he got kicked out of a crucial match for stepping out of the break room to assist the star order-taker after he had a chicken sandwich thrown at him; and one year we were at the wrong end of an officiating scandal involving gamblers.

Finally it looked as though we had everything going for us: our order-taker was his normally brilliant self. He could find a customer from three counters away and deliver the perfect, "Welcome to Burger Hut. May I take your order please?" I swear he had eyes in the back of his head; our drive-thru expert could do it all: his incredible athleticism allowed him to take an order while bagging a burger, salting the fries, and handing a fillet-of fish to a happy customer; our burger-maker dominated the grilling area with powerful spatula flips, aggressive slicing, and incredible mayonnaise-spreading maneuvers; in addition, we had taken a chance on one of the most talented fry cooks of all time, who although having a history of grease burns, had managed to remain healthy for the entire fast food season.

Things were looking up until the general manager panicked, got rid of our drive-thru guy and hired a gourmet chef to replace him. My boss protested. He told the general manager that a gourmet chef would ruin our style and disrupt our burger-serving rhythm. He said we needed our drive thru specialist to pick up the rest

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