Entourage (HBO)

After viewing the first three episodes, I can see the series continuing to come into its own, with the zeitgeist not just catching up to this trendy Hollywood satire, but zooming right past it. Is it because the show itself has sweetened – the first episode featured Vincent, Drama, E, and Turtle flying their mothers in on a private jet to the premiere of Aquaman – or has the world seemed to have gotten a lot crueler in the interim?

Even Jeremy Piven’s shameless Ari Gold is revealing a softer side, as he’s forced to dip into Mrs. Ari’s trust fund and settle for the $13 Gigi salad at the Palm instead of the lobster. The appearance of an old high school friend in episode three, who shows up unannounced after a prison stint, promises some darker times ahead, but for the most part, the boys are enjoying the box office success of James Cameron’s first movie since Titanic. Their interest suddenly turns from sex to power, which is what enables you to get the former in the first place.

Cameo of the year so far: Jimmy Woods playing himself as the tough guy who tries to get back the Aquaman premiere tickets that Ari’s assistant Lloyd accidentally gave to Drama and E to pick up hot chicks. Still a great show, even if it is turning out to be the testosterone-driven version of Sex and the City transplanted to Hollywood.

NBA Finals

For a moment there, I thought my Miami-in-seven prediction was going the way of the Heat. But Dwyane Wade came out of nowhere to assert some Jordan-esque carry-the-team-on-his-back heroics to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. He put his beleaguered batch back into the hunt with the Mavericks, followed by a Nowitzki meltdown last night that tied the series back up.

I was right on in recognizing that Dampier and Diop would need to control Shaq, which they did in the winning games. But O’Neal finally came through in Game 3 with two clutch free throws and Game 4 with some domination around the paint, something he’ll have to continue to do.

Like I said, a Miami veteran would have to represent come crunch time and one did in Gary Payton. A lot more are going to have to step up (Alonzo Mourning seemed to come alive in Game 4) for the Heat to make my pre-series pick come true.

David Ford, I Sincerely Apologise for the Trouble I’ve Caused (Independiente/Columbia)

Even before the Brits came into power at Columbia, this scruffy U.K. singer/songwriter/one-man band was being touted for big things as the most intriguing troubadour to come along since Damien Rice and Conor Oberst, but with even more of a feel for solid bursts of melodic rock.

He’s kind of like Chris Martin meets Bob Dylan, with a little CSN-era Neil Young thrown in for good measure. It’s an arty affair, but never strays from accessibility, as exemplified in the home-made videos for the self-lacerating “I Don’t Care What You Call Me,” and the corrosive socio-political critique of “State of the Union,” which wouldn’t be out of place on either Young’s own Living With War or Dylan’s Highway 61. It can be viewed on David Ford's website.