And so the only fair thing to do is wonder what comes next: Locusts? Pestilence? An end to war? Cats and dogs living together?

Phil Jackson to the Warriors?

Look, if Jerry West can take over the Memphis Grizzlies, anything feels possible. That sound you hear is the uncomfortable shifting of the NBA's tectonic plates, a grinding of matter below the surface.

	In a surprise to many, Jerry West has left the penthouse of the Lakers to try to find respectability for the Grizzlies.

Logo Man in Graceland? A career-long Laker pairing up with a just-past-the-expansion-stage franchise?

Anything feels possible. Just anything.

It's hard to imagine a downside here for Memphis. The absolute worst that can happen is that West discovers his building project will take more years than he first guessed, and even that doesn't strike you as the most likely breaking news you're going to hear. West has a notoriously difficult time making up his mind about matters such as these. It's impossible to believe he doesn't know what he's up against.

So forget that angle for a moment and come take a ride with us down the Avenue of Wonders. Doesn't the Memphis breakthrough -- and that's what it is, a franchise that has never been above doormat status landing one of the acknowledged top executives in recent league history -- suggest wonderful things?

It suggests what every struggling franchise longs to hear: That it's never completely over. If West can find enough to like in the Memphis situation to want to give it a shot, then perhaps there isn't a team in the league that stands so very far away from at least the hint of better times to come.

There is nothing certain about West in Memphis, and that's what makes it so beautiful. The Grizzlies have some young talent and some real problems. They may see a future with Pau Gasol and Shane Battier leading the recovery, but, barring trade, they're also looking at a future with erratic Jason Williams, to whom they gave a $43 million, multiyear contract last fall.

Williams grew up in a small West Virginia town just down the road from where West was raised, and West was so impressed by the guard's raw talent that he attempted to engineer a deal with Sacramento general manager Geoff Petrie that would've allowed the Lakers to draft Williams in 1998. West may still see the promise of Williams. He may be the man, by dint of NBA experience and common background, whose constant presence finally leads Williams to transform that promise into reliable production.

Maybe. But it isn't certain, not certain at all. And that's the beauty -- that West could see a situation with so many questions and want to go after it anyway.

	West never said he couldn't be lured back into full-time status as a franchise builder; but the Grizzlies?

Perhaps it's the proximity to home (though West has lived in L.A. for four decades). Perhaps it is the simple challenge to West, at age 64, of attempting another series of firsts: First trip to .500, first winning season, first playoff experience.

At this point, though, the "Why?" -- however significant it may be -- is almost a secondary storyline to the "What?" The very idea of someone with West's pedigree -- and in West's case, someone who appeared at least possibly on the way to semi-retirement -- making a decision to join a franchise like the Grizzlies ought to raise the bar on what's possible straight across the NBA's board.

It's a freaky thing, really. West never said he couldn't be lured back into full-time status as a franchise builder; but the Grizzlies? Yet that is exactly what is inspiring here at all, that a guy who sweats championship salt still feels like mixing it up with a franchise of no real standing.

West will get his money -- and a fat lot of money it will be -- but there is no suggestion from any corner that it's the money he coveted. What West sees in Memphis is a franchise desperately in need of a learned hand.

What Memphis sees in Jerry West, by contrast, is obvious to the world. It's what the West move suggests, not just to Grizzly Nation but to every stop on the Loserville Express, that is so much more subtle. It suggests the magic of possibility. There isn't a franchise in the world that doesn't pine just a little bit for that.

Mark Kreidler of the Sacramento Bee is a regular contributor to ESPN.com.