By Brian A. Lester

Brick. Brick. Brick. Brick. Brick. Yes, that is the chorus line of New Jersey's offense in the NBA Finals, but it is not music to anyone's ears. The sound of a basketball hitting iron is never a beautiful thing and if the Nets do not get their shooting touch back soon, Los Angeles will become party central.

We were told the Finals would be competitive. We were told the Nets would be an uptempo basketball team that would give the Lakers the same type of headaches Sacramento did.

Instead, New Jersey has shown the world that it doesn't really even belong on the same court as the two-time defending champions. It is a shame that the Nets have been a joke on the game's biggest stage, shooting no better than 39 percent in each of their two losses. What is even more atrocious is that their biggest star has a serious case of brickitis.

Jason Kidd is supposed to be the player the Nets can rely on when the going gets tough. He is supposed to be their most dependable player and their biggest asset.

Yet, Kidd did not domnate as hoped in Game 2, missing shot after shot after shot as if the ball were some sort of disease and he was simply trying to get it out of his hands without regard to where it actually went.

Keith Van Horn, Kenyon Martin and Todd MacCulloch would do Kidd a favor to show up and play. The entire frontcourt gave almost nothing in Game 2.

Granted, Kidd, who hung a triple-double effort on the Lakers in Game 1, was trying to get his teammates involved for obvious reasons. But if the star point guard on a team already overmatched to begin with fails to deliver offensively, impending doom is just around the corner.

Kidd did not make a field goal in the first half. In fact, he failed to score a single point in the first 24 minutes of action on Friday and not surprisingly, the Nets went into halftime down 49-43. Perhaps if Kidd had not disappeared off the face of the court and landed on the back of a milk carton in the opening half, the Nets might have been in a more desirable position at the break.

Yes, Kidd did score 17 points in the second half, but those points did about as much good as throwing buckets of water on a raging forest fire. Kidd's production was not enough to prevent the Nets from falling two games behind in a series that many believe is nothing more than an extended coronation ceremony for the Lakers.

Kidd has to take control, and New Jersey's shooters need to make their shots. And quickly. Time, after all, is running out on New Jersey.

If Kidd plays like he did in the series opener, the Nets have a slim chance to win Game 3. If Kidd plays like he did on Friday at the Staples Center, the Nets may as well just dig themselves a grave next to Jimmy Hoffa at the Meadowlands because a three-game deficit against the Lakers is similar to climbing a volcano as hot lava spills out of it.

To be fair to Kidd, he cannot beat the mighty Lakers by himself. At least two of the Nets frontcourt players need to rise to the occasion, if the team is to be successful. And in the backcourt, Kerry Kittles needs to keep making all the open outside opportunities he receives. Anything less than that and the Lakers will crush New Jersey just as they did on Friday.

It's almost time for Game 3. Soon, the Nets will be shooting the ball again.

The million-dollar question is will the Nets be hearing the sweet sound of a ball swishing through the net or the cruel melody of a ball clanking off the iron?

Swish, swish, swish is the preferred option, but brick, brick, brick is the tune of the Nets at the present moment. That has to change now or music fit for a funeral procession will be playing in New Jersey by early next week.

Brian Lester is a sports writer in Ohio and can be reached via e-mail at BAL4@hotmail.com.