Playoff fever in Atlanta

Hey, the Atlanta Hawks are still alive in the NBA playoffs.

Enjoy it while it lasts. That may no longer be the case in, oh, about 24 hours from now.

Give the Hawks credit for pushing the 66-win, star-laden Boston Celtics to a sixth game. It's a wonder the Hawks avoided a sweep, quite frankly, and it will be equally eyebrow-jacking if they force a seventh game. It's true that Kevin Garnett and Co. should have a prohibitive advantage in terms of talent heading into Friday night's game at Philips Arena, but Atlanta forwards Josh Smith and Al Horford have been impressive and who knows what Joe Johnson could do if he gets hot early in the game?

No, the problem might be the man on the bench, head coach Mike Woodson. He seems more than a little distracted right now and that can't be good for his team.

After Atlanta's last victory in the series, he spoke of his job situation almost in the past tense, as if he expected to get canned at the conclusion of his team's playoff joyride. These last few days, he's been answering and then doing his best to avoid questions of his job security. After all, the guy owns a record of 106-222 in four seasons. I've hung with him in his office before and he seems like a nice guy, but you have to wonder if the the members of the Atlanta Spirit ownership group (who can name all of them given the legal infighting) have grown impatient waiting for him to turn Marvin Williams' potential into production, etc.

In a recent radio interview, Woodson seemed to be making a belated effort at damage control.

"Personally, I think I've done an unbelievable job,'' he said.

Sounds a little like Dubya's endorsement of a certain former FEMA director.

Oh well.

For Atlanta to extend this series, it needs to arrive at Philips Arena with the same sort of energy as last Friday's occupant of the arena floor. The wife and I took in Bruce Springsteen's epic concert in Atlanta last week.

While I've long appreciated The Boss' music, I'd never before seen him live and am in no way represented of the uber-fan/borderline stalkers who bused and flew in from places like Hackensack, Perth Amboy and Paramus with their acid wash jeans and teased hair (in the case of the ladies) to see a Jersey guy who made good.

The Mrs. and I managed to score tickets that got us into the 500-person bullpen right in front of the stage. We were no more than 25-feet away from Bruce, Lil' Stevie and Clarence Clemons at various points during the show. As wonderful as the music was, I spent a fair portion of the show simply gawping at Bruce on stage and wondering how he could maintain his hyperkinetic stage presence as he closes in on his 58th birthday.

You have to figure that this guy has played most of his standards -- ''Born to Run,'' ''Brilliant Disguise,'' "Glory Days,'' etc. -- night after night on the road, probably upwards of 10,000 times apiece over the years. And yet, in Atlanta, he wore a smile on his face, engaged the crowd throughout, sponged gallons of sweat off his face, drank gallons of blue sports drink in between songs and sang every one of his songs with the sort of fervor and passion you would have expected to see during his first tour.

The Hawks need whatever Bruce brought to the stage last weekend, but I'm not sure that ingredient exists in mass quantities.