After single-handedly burying the Knicks last week at Madison Square Garden, Chris Paul was his usual, outwardly humble self. But inside, I bet you he was itching to go T.O. on the world ... or at least on his draft-day detractors.

On basketball's biggest stage, Paul was extraordinary, carving up Spike Lee's muse to the tune of 27/13/7. Larry Brown summed it up best, somberly praising, "He's one of the best that's come into this league in a long, long time ... He reminds me so much of Isiah."

And this, of course, makes me want to fight a wall.

That's because my hometown Atlanta Hawks, who could have had Paul, are instead stuck with the worst point guard situation in the entire league -- the vaunted Ivey/Lue/Stoudamire triumvirate. To be clear, I like all three for what they are. But there's not an NBA starting pg in the bunch. Period.

Consequently, this year's team is competing against a stacked deck. Imagine a decently cast television show, only no one ever bothered to hire writers. No matter how competent everyone else is, the set will eventually fall into anarchy, a bunch of misplaced actors and production crew desperately devising storylines. That's this year's Hawks in a nutshell.

But give this team just a serviceable pg and things could have been dramatically different. With an actual point to ease the playmaking burden, Joe Johnson settles in as the primary scoring option, Al Harrington slides back into a secondary role and the Hawks suddenly have a puncher's chance of executing in crunch-time. The difference would be staggering.

That's where Paul comes in. By using the second pick in last year's draft on UNC's Marvin Williams, a raw swingman with star potential, the Hawks passed over Paul, Wake Forest's standout point. Normally, such a pick would be defensible under the logic that it's better to swing for the fences than mindlessly plug a hole. Unfortunately, the Hawks didn't just neglect a need (and add to their already flooded roster of 2s through 4s); they missed out on the most important pg to enter the league since Jason Kidd, possibly Isiah Thomas. With Paul, the Hawks are an immediate playoff team. As it stands, they have the second-worst record in basketball.

The depth of Paul's importance, however, traces back to before he was even born. Much like today's glam-rocker, Paul represents the last of a dying breed -- the Classic NBA Point.

Back in the '80s, though, the Classic Point thrived. While Magic redefined the position, players like John Stockton, Mark Jackson, Mo Cheeks, Mark Price and Isiah Thomas (the Classic PG gold standard) put out nightly clinics on running point. For one, each saw the floor beautifully, almost as if operating in a Neo-like existence of invisible passing lanes and slowed time (which is why, in retirement, I like to imagine an unshaven Stockton ambling through supermarkets, blindly feeding jaw-dropping bounce passes to unsuspecting soccer moms).

Additionally, those '80s points knew how to manage a game. Take Jackson, for example. Outside of assists, his career numbers are ordinary. But he was a master of feeding the hot hand, rewarding the big man, knowing when to get a lethargic player involved and hitting a shooter in stride (not to mention that Jackson, as much as Charles Barkley, deserves credit for patenting the now illegal "20 second back-down into the post," a sublimely hilarious move). A swift crossover is nice, but intangibles like those are invaluable.

However, the late '90s and early 2000s marked the rise of the "combo-guard," a shift that left Classic PGs like those '80s staples all but extinct. Look around the league today and you'll see a predominance of bigger, more versatile points -- Gilbert Arenas, Chauncey Billups, Baron Davis, Steve Francis, Jason Terry, Marko Jaric and Andre Miller, to name a few. Masterfully orchestrating an offense has been replaced by the ability to dunk in traffic, post up on the block and defend opposing twos.

Yet the combo-guard label isn't necessarily a knock. Billups and Tony Parker, neither of whom could be termed a Classic Point, were at the helm of the past three NBA champions (and likely a fourth). In fact, if we've learned anything in NBA history, it's that the only blueprint for success is cohesive talent. Jordan's Bulls shuffled in serviceable pgs and centers as if they were towel-boys.

But there will always be a place for the Classic Point, if for nothing else than the unselfish team dynamic that naturally follows. And that, ultimately, is why Paul, a Classic Point in every sense of the word, is so damn important. T.J. Ford is the real thing, and Sebastian Telfair, Raymond Felton, Shaun Livingston (more in the Penny mold) and Deron Williams have shown promise, but it's Paul who will inherit the reigns for an era, hopefully extending the line being tenuously held by the aging Kidd and Steve Nash.

Paul's destiny became clear two years ago, back when he was dominating ACC action as a freshman. He moved at the speed of light, rebounded remarkably well for his size and, most importantly, hit open teammates with a fluid ease. Top that off with legitimate three point range, and the blasphemous Isiah whisperings were a foregone conclusion.

So when Paul declared for the NBA Draft following his sophomore season, teams should have been lining up to take him after top pick Milwaukee (which already had Ford). Instead, a shocking amount of GMs and draft gurus outsmarted themselves nitpicking Paul's game, culminating in Utah inexplicably selecting Williams (a nice pg prospect) ahead of Paul (a great one). As a result, Paul unceremoniously fell to a waiting New Orleans at #4, followed by the entire Hornets front office breaking into an impromptu Riverdance celebration. Or so I imagine.

Predictably, Paul has been lighting up the league since "GO." Through 40 games this season, he's averaging an astounding 16.5 points, 7.5 assists, 5.8 rebounds, and 2.2 steals per game, all rookie highs except for rebounds (where he's 3rd), effectively wrapping up Rookie of the Year honors well before the All-Star break. To fully put his start in perspective, though, consider Paul's numbers next to the rookie campaigns of (arguably) the three best PGs of the past 25 yrs (excluding the anomalous Magic).

Isiah Thomas -- 17.0 points, 7.8 assists, 2.9 rebounds, 2.08 steals

John Stockton -- 5.6 points, 5.1 assists, 1.3 rebounds, 1.33 steals

Jason Kidd -- 11.7 points, 7.7 assists, 5.4 rebounds, 1.9 steals

Not bad. Yet impressive as his early stats are, Paul is much more than a fantasy stud -- he's a 20 year-old, 6'0" virtuoso. Paul's superior talent and refreshing understanding for the position can be summed up in two distinct points: He can get anywhere on the floor, anytime, at will, and he almost always makes the right decision with the ball (evidenced by his 6th best assist/turnover ratio among players averaging over 30 minutes per game ... as a rookie PG, nonetheless). It's those two gifts that should have Coach Byron Scott and teammates like J.R. Smith and David West salivating over his arrival, particularly since Paul's addition has the Hornets, who should by all accounts be terrible, improbably hovering near .500 and in the mix for a Western playoff spot.

Admittedly, we're only halfway through the season, which means lauding Paul as everything short of the next Isiah could be remarkably premature. In fact, when it's all said and done, maybe my Hawks land a real point, Marvin pans out to be a genuine star and basketball historians will recall the picks as a wash. Then again, I'd probably still take Paul. I'm biased like that.

Sweet-swinging lefties, cutbacks through the secondary, perfectly timed alley-oops, Roger Federer's forehand, Ernie Els' downswing, Eduardo Najera's box-out -- each of these epitomizes athletic grace.

But I'll always be partial to the little guy with eyes in the back of his head, making fools out of the trees.

Kevin Cott is the intern for the Sports Guy's World.