It’s always fun to compare players whose games are so strikingly similar. Like Kobe and Jordan. You can eat up an entire weekend with your buddies asking things like, Who’s the better shooter? The better penetrator? The better athlete? Who would you rather have taking the last shot? And of course, flat out, who’s the better player? Most people, including myself, still believe it’s Jordan, if only because it’s borderline blasphemous to say otherwise. But nobody can deny that Kobe is as close as we’ve ever seen to Mike. Sometimes, when Kobe goes into that fall-away jumper, when he saunters down the court with that smirk on his face, you’d swear you’re watching Michael’s twin.

And that’s how I feel when I watch Stephen Curry and Steve Nash. Throw a moppy do on Steph and a babyface on Steve and these two are an absolute spitting image of one another. The silky shot with the hair-trigger release. The sixth-sense feel for their surroundings. The creativity and vision and knack for getting space against far quicker players. And more than anything, they both have that thing you can’t define. That thing that makes you feel like every time they have the ball, something good is going to happen.

I’ve felt like this for a while, but after watching these guys go head to head in Phoenix’s victory over the Warriors on Friday (which halted the Suns’ four-game skid and, for the moment, kept their ever-fading playoff hopes at least theoretically alive), I now have an ever grander take on the situation: Not only do I think these two mirror each other, but I think in the end, Stephen Curry has a chance to be even better than Nash has been.

I know that sounds crazy, but think about it: He’s just as good a shooter, if not a better one. In his rookie year Curry averaged better than 18 points a game. Nash has only done that twice in his whole career. Nash piles up more assists, but he plays with better players. And more importantly, he doesn’t play with Monta Ellis. Nash has never had to share the ball with anyone, and therefore, his statistics and overall effect on the game has always been completely maximized. If the Warriors ever get rid of Ellis, the modern-day Allen Iverson, and hand the team completely over to Curry, his numbers are going to go crazy in that system.

Look, I’m as big a fan of Nash as anyone. He’s a surefire Hall of Famer. And at this point trying to compare Curry to him is ridiculous. But I can see the handwriting on the wall. You can’t teach what Curry has. And if the Warriors ever decide to surround him with even half the complimentary parts that Nash has enjoyed during his time in Phoenix (say, with a pick & roll mate like Stoudemire), this kid has a real shot to be a better version of Steve Nash.

So I’m watching the Suns play on Sunday against the Magic, a nationally televised game on a huge afternoon of sports, and I’m looking in the stands. And what do I see? A whole mess of empty seats. And I immediately think about the glory days, back when the Suns were by far and away the most exciting team in the league. When the motto was to get up a shot in 7 seconds or less. When Nash to Stoudemire was starting to sound a lot like Stockton to Malone. When you couldn’t find an empty seat in the nosebleeds. Those, as they say, were the days, and the end of them was was one of the great disappointments of the current NBA era.

And it’s not so much that everyone was traded and the run came to end. After all, that’s life. All things run their course. But when a good thing ends, it at least makes it easier to swallow when it ended for the right reasons. But that era of Suns basketball didn’t end for the right reasons. It ended for no other reason than dated, shortsighted stubbornness, and it illuminated one of the true misconceptions about sports fans.

See, analysts love to talk about legacies and titles. But fans live in the moment. Sure, they want their team to win a title, but it’s the pursuit of that title that they really care about. Fans don’t necessarily need a championship. They just need a team that has a chance to win a championship. A team that late in the season is playing meaningful games. A team that leaves seats empty not because nobody’s at the game, but because nobody can sit down.

Take the Oklahoma City Thunder for instance. Those fans are so jacked up that that arena sounds like a shuttle launch. And are they winning championships? Think back to those old Sacramento Kings teams with Chris Webber and Mike Bibby. I’ll never forget those games, with 18,000 people ringing cowbells, with every series against the Lakers coming down the final game, the final minute, even the final shot. Did they win a championship?

And what about Reggie Miller and all those battles with Spike Lee at the Garden? Did the Pacers ever win a championship? Or for that matter, did the Knicks during that era? The answer is no. They didn’t. And yet, everyone had the time of their lives watching those games. And I assume the players felt the same about playing in them. I honestly don’t think Reggie Miller would trade those days for a championship for all the money in the world.

Reggie, like the fans, lived for the moments. For the pursuit.

And make no mistake: The Suns were in hot pursuit. For years they were a lock for a late playoff run, a few times coming within a ref’s whistle of The Finals. But then Steve Kerr had to come in and blow up the roster like a one-man demolition crew, slowly casting off guys like Shawn Marion and Raja Bell and bringing in guys like Shaq – the ultimate square peg in a round hole, clogging up Steve Nash’s operating space like hair in a drain. And just like that, it was over. Kerr tried to backtrack and re-assemble the same run-and-gun style team that he’d inherited in the first place, and ironically enough, it did result in a trip to the Western Conference Finals last year. But by then the damage had been done. The culture had been re-defined for the worse. The excitement had been sucked from a team, from an entire city.

Now Stoudemire and D’Antoni are in New York, where, wouldn’t you know it, basketball is once again thriving. Energy is in the Garden every night. Players are excited. For the next decade, championship or not, Knicks fans and players alike are in for the time of their lives.

And the Suns? Well, they’re currently battling for the absolute last seed in the playoffs in front of a bunch of empty seats.

Nice decision.

The other day I was reading an article about the “freakish” talent of one Tracy McGrady, and how, in the opinion of some, it actually worked to the detriment of his career. The argument was simple: The game simply came too easy to T-Mac. His crazy leaps and bird-like wingspan, and – as McGrady’s former coach Jeff Van Gundy stated – his terrifically high basketball IQ, made him so much better than his contemporaries, so much more physically gifted, that he was able to thrive in spite of his lackluster work ethic. In other words, there was little to no incentive to work on other parts of his game, the finer skills if you will, because in the end he could always fall back on his unfairly superior gifts from God. Thus, he never became the player that he could’ve been.

Okay. I can buy that. Sort of. But remember, the guy was still pretty freakin’ good. Apparently, Hall of Fame good. And that’s the part of the article that interested me most, as toward the end there was a reference to this thing called “Hall of Fame Probability Rankings.” Basically, all active players were assigned a Hall of Fame probability. Kobe Bryant was No 1. Shaq was No. 2. Duncan 3. Garnett 4. LeBron 5. McGrady, as it turns out, is sitting nicely at No. 11, right behind Chris Paul.

And who’s sitting directly in front of Chris Paul?

Dwight Howard?

Carmelo Anthony?

Steve Nash?

Nope. It’s Phoenix’s own Vince Carter, meaning Carter (who has recently been on a scoring tear for the Suns, although he netted only six points in their loss to the Nuggets on Thursday) is the eleventh-most likely active player to make th Hall of Fame, putting him well ahead of not only all the guys I just named, but also ahead of guys like Deron Williams, Tony Parker, and Amare Stoudemire. In fact, he’s ahead of a whole slew of legitimate ballers. And I’m wondering . . . what did I miss?

Apparently a lot. Apparently I’ve forgotten that Vince Carter has been one of the league’s premier scorers for a long time. But has he? Really? I’m not even going to take the time to look up his career statistics because I’m sure they’re fantastic. But that’s not the point. The point is perception. When I think of Vince Carter, I think of a guy like T-Mac, a guy with alien-like talent, a guy who authored the craziest slam-dunk-contest performance in the history of mankind. But I don’t think of him as a Hall of Fame player. At least not – pun half intended – a “slam-dunk” Hall of Famer.

Now, his statistics say I’m a total moron for saying that. But in baseball, guys are always saying that the most important criteria when evaluating a player’s Hall of Fame candidacy is your first instinct. Put another way, when someone says a name, do you immediately, absolutely immediately think Hall of Fame? For instance: Derek Jeter? Hall of Fame. Cal Ripken? Hall of Fame. Gary Sheffield? Eh … I’m not sure. Yeah, he had loads of ability, bat-speed that could break barriers, and his statistics, steroid-enhanced or otherwise, are seriously serious. But is he a Hall of Famer? Eh … I’m not sure.

And that’s where I’m at with Vince Carter. I’m just not sure. Maybe it’s because he played in Toronto all those years, suffering from the same borderline irrelevancy that most hockey players suffer from in America. Maybe it’s because his dunk-contest performance was so superhumanly unforgettable that I have been unable all these years to detach from it, to see him as an actual basketball superstar. I don’t know. But the eleventh-most likely active player to make the Hall of Fame? Ahead of Steve Nash?

If you say so.

Dating back to an impressive, if unexpected victory over the Celtics on January 28, the Suns have quietly won 11 of their last 15 games, including four of their last five. Ironically, the Celtics bookended that run as well, knocking Phoenix off on Wednesday by a score of 115-103. Phoenix made a late run with a barrage of triples, going on an 18-0 run to close the first half and start the second. But as Boston point man Rajon Rondo said afterward, the game was never in question. And really, nobody expected it to be, as Phoenix was down by as many as 29 in this one, and clearly benefitted from a Boston team that momentarily hit cruise control.

But that’s okay. The Suns aren’t supposed to beat the elite teams. They’re not going to make the playoffs by beating the Lakers and the Celtics, or even the Mavs or Spurs or Heat or Bulls. No, they’re going to make the playoffs by doing what they’ve been doing since the All-Star break: getting fat on mediocre-to-terrible squads. So far in the second half Phoenix has feasted on, wait for it . . . the Nets, Raptors, Hawks and Pacers. And tonight they get another team in that category in the Milwaukee Bucks.

It’s a big game for the Suns not only because they’re currently running neck and neck with Memphis for the eighth seed in the West, but also because the Suns have proven to be particularly vulnerable to prolonged losing streaks on the heels of a nice winning streak. Five times this year Phoenix has won three or more consecutive games, and three of those streaks have led directly into at least a three-game losing skid. That’s how you end up playing .500 ball.

At this point in the year, losing streaks can’t happen. Phoenix needs to stop the bleeding before it starts and pile up as many wins as they can heading into the final month-and-a-half of play. Remember, of their 23 remaining games, 13 are against almost surefire playoff teams. Not a single winnable game can be wasted.

On another note, things got . . . oh, shall we say a little testy in Boston on Wednesday. You’ll remember that Suns coach Alvin Gentry commented that he’d lost some respect for Kevin Garnett after Garnett delivered a not-so-subtle shot to the man region of Channing Frye in the teams’ previous meeting. I don’t think the Celtics cared much, as bullies don’t tend to worry about the feelings of the kid whose lunch money they stole. However, to see the Suns play with some emotion was cool for me. I enjoyed reading Steve Nash’s lips as he tossed a nice little F-Bomb. I enjoyed Jared Dudley planting Rondo when he decided to throw up a 3-pointer at the buzzer just to rub it in. Personally, I think the Suns need some fire. That’s how the Celtics play every night, on BOTH ENDS OF THE FLOOR. And that’s why they win. People are quick to criticize Kevin Garnett for his intense style. But that guy comes to play like he’s trying to put food on his family’s table. I’m certainly not condoning shots to the man region, but the Suns have more than enough talent on the offensive end. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt if they started to play with a little chip on their shoulder. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to let someone know they’re there every once in a while.

I’m just saying.

On Sunday, Channing Frye propelled the Suns over the Indiana Pacers with a toe-on-the-line, contested jumper as time expired. On Monday, he did it again. This time it came with 6.6 seconds left in overtime to give Phoenix a 104-103 win against the New Jersey Nets. It was the Suns’ fourth consecutive win to start the second half, and considering the log jam at the bottom of the Western Conference playoff standings, they’re going to need every one of them as the season moves into its waning stages.

With that in mind, there are two ways to look at Frye’s heroics: glass half full, or glass half empty. If you’re a glass-half-full guy, you’re taking your wins and running. You don’t care that Channing had to hit back-to-back statistically improbable buzzer-beaters just to pull out a couple nail-biting wins against two sub-.500 teams. If you’re a glass-half-full guy, you’re pointing to the fact that the Pacers have a good shot at making the playoffs, the Nets are a markedly different team with newly acquired Deron Williams in the lineup, and both games were on the road.

On the other hand, if you’re a glass-half-empty guy, you’re pointing out the blatantly obvious: If the Suns need 30-plus points from Grant Hill (which they got against Indiana), and back-to-back last-second heaves from Channing just to eke out two overtime wins against relatively bad teams, well, how long can that really last?

Me? I’m sort of in the middle, which is where I pretty much always am when it comes to the Suns. I’ll never knock four consecutive wins in the NBA, especially when three come on the road, and the latter two on back-to-back days. But I can’t be more than cautiously optimistic. A few days back I said that the Suns would find a way to run off 18-20 wins in the second half and creep into the playoffs, and I still think they will. And truth be told, with all the roster shake-ups Phoenix has endured this year, with Amare sowing his oats in New York and J-Rich doing the same in Orlando, qualifying for the playoffs with something close to 50 wins would be a major accomplishment for this team. But rest assured, if Frye has to keep saving the day against the likes of the Nets, even if the Suns do make the playoffs, they won’t be there for more than five games.

I said yesterday that I feel the Suns need to win between 18 and 20 games in the second half to have a shot at the playoffs. So far, they’re 2-0 after the all-star break. The win against the Hawks at home was impressive, and even though I can’t exactly say the same for their win against the forgotten Raptors, it was still a road win. And road wins, regardless of the opponent, are not to be scoffed at in the NBA. Marcin Gortat, who has added some much-needed toughness to the Suns’ front line since coming over from Orlando, finished with 17 points on 7-9 shooting from the field. Vince Carter added 17 of his own. And it’s Carter that I want to talk about.

In his post-game quote, Grant Hill basically said that he could see a certain fire in Carter’s eye during pre-game warmups, when he was throwing down windmill dunks. Hill attributes this sudden energy boost to the fact that Carter was back in Toronto, where he spent the first part of his career. Okay, fine. It’s not that I don’t understand wanting to play good against your former team. It’s not that I don’t understand the juices flowing a bit more freely. But I’m wondering: Why is it that a guy making obscene amounts of millions can’t be pumped to play every night? Why does he have to be playing against his former team? Why is a guy’s energy level so markedly different from one night to the next that it is actually a noticeable thing to his teammates? Just wondering.

As for the way the Suns have come out of the gates, you can’t argue with the results. 2-0 after the break. On the right track. The thing that makes the Suns intriguing is that they really can score the ball. In a playoff series, they can at least make it exciting against pretty much anyone. They have plenty of firepower, as opposed to a team that just flat out lacks talent. So when we see them get on a nice run, we think to ourselves, “Maybe they’re getting hot. Maybe things are starting to click.” They always feel like they’re on the brink of something better. Again, so far so good. But like I said yesterday, I’m not jumping out of my seat.

The way I figure it, the Suns need to win somewhere between 18 and 20 of their final 28 games to have a realistic shot at making the playoffs. It’s a tough assignment, but in the suddenly depleted Western Conference, it’s at least feasible. In my opinion, even more so after the trade the Suns pulled off on Thursday. In exchange for backup point guard Goran Dragic, who is stable but nothing special, and a future first-round pick, Phoenix landed Houston Rockets point guard Aaron Brooks, who, potentially, could add a ton of scoring punch off the Suns’ bench. Sure, Brooks presents a bit of a problem on the defensive end. He’s severely undersized, and much like Steph Curry and Monta Ellis in Golden State, when Brooks and Nash are on the floor together they will be at a monster defensive disadvantage against opposing teams’  bigger backcourts. But let’s be honest, the Suns aren’t winning games on the defensive end. Never have, and at least for the foreseeable future, they never will. The only way the Suns win is to outscore you. Period. When Phoenix scores under 100 points they are a pretty subpar NBA team. And that’s being kind. When they go over 100, however, they can play with most anyone on a given night. It’s not brain surgery.

Brooks (who, last year, averaged over 19 points and five assists while becoming one of only six players in league history to tally 200 assists and 400 3-pointers in the same season) will add to a team that threw up 107 on Atlanta Wednesday night to open the second half on the right foot. And if Channing Frye and Jared Dudley continue their hot shooting from beyond the arc, and if Robin Lopez can provide at least a bit of emergency defense at the rim to combat the Suns’ lack of perimeter defense (otherwise known as Vince Carter and Steve Nash), I think the Suns have a shot to pull off a second-half mini miracle and make the playoffs. After all, Carmelo is gone. D-Will and Jerry Sloan are too. And Rudy Gay is hurt in Memphis. If ever there were a time for the Suns to start moving up from their current 10th-place slot, it’s now. All in all, the second half couldn’t have started better for Phoenix. They got a win against Atlanta and an upgrade in Brooks. Now they go on the road until March 8, when Brooks’ former team, the Rockets, will come to U.S. Airways. We should know a lot more by then.