Good morning, Deron Williams.

Thanks for coming, have a seat.

We figured it was time to have this chin-wag — even after a decent but disappointing night at the Garden — because you're a sensitive soul who needs to be approached carefully even when we venture into something intended as a friendly critique.

This has less to do with how you play — which is bad enough, you readily admit nowadays — than how you act, which is just one evening gown shy of a diva. And by now you may have sensed that everyone around you seems unwilling to share their candid observations with you.

We heard you blame your troubles on coach Avery Johnson, and pine for the days when that wise old crank in Utah ran stuff that was better suited to your individual skills.

Trust us: The national response was raucous laughter, because you were the guy responsible for getting Jerry Sloan to decide after 27 years that he'd rather live with his 30 tractors in McLeansboro, Ill., than put up with your insubordination.

Now you say Sloan was best for your career, not to mention the $100 million contract that validates it? That's rich.

Sure, revisionist history was worth a shot, but our only takeaway was more sympathy for Avery. He's done what he had to do with this offense: Establish Brook Lopez, get Joe Johnson acclimated quickly, and whatever sugar remains goes to Deron and Gerald Wallace.