Michael Heisley understands how bread is buttered, which is why he thoughtfully waited until the end of the NBA All-Star Break to confess that he has been greenlighted to move the Vancouver Grizzlies.

	Shareef Abdur-Rahim can't win games by himself in Vancouver.

Heisley, who owns the hell out of the Grizz, has talked with The High Lord Stern about his insurmountable problems (lousy team, lousy attendance, lousy business support, lousy exchange rate, blah-de-blah-de-blah), but held his tongue until the caravan had left Washington, D.C. After all, with all the "Why Is The NBA Doomed?" analyses floating around this weekend, why throw another barbecue-starter-soaked log on the hearth?

His thoughtfulness will be rewarded, one presumes. He has already gotten the NBA to place the blame for the Grizz' foundering on the Vancouver business community, and to accept and advance his claims that the team is losing $50 million.

Of course, if he is losing $50 million, he must be throwing at least part of it out his car window, but we'll let that pass.

But finding a sap who will meet Heisley's selling price (he bought the Grizz a year ago for $150M, on the Siamese-twin notions that both the team and the Canadian dollar would suddenly grow strong and powerful) will be tough, and finding a town that aches for a bad NBA franchise will be even tougher.

St. Louis? Nope. Bill Laurie, who tried to buy the team only to be found offensive by the other owners (and what greater condemnation can there be?), owns the building where the basketball team would play.

Nashville? Still trying to assimilate the Predators.

Las Vegas? How about we wait and see how this XFL thing works out before we get all giddy, okay?

New Orleans? Didn't we already do this?

San Diego? Didn't we already do this too?

Therein lies Heisley's problem, and Stern's as well, for that matter. The NBA's attempt to colonize Canada hasn't really taken, and the minute Vince Carter can leave Toronto, it will fail completely. Too bad, too. Canada's a nice place.

Plus, Canada is the second wealthiest country in North America, and if the NBA thing doesn't work there, it is unlikely that Stern will turn his league's hungry eyes toward, say, Venezuela.

Thus, the NBA is now discovering what baseball has discovered -- that it stinks having no extra cities lying around for blackmail purposes.

It came from over-expanding, of course. After absorbing Denver, Phoenix, Tampa and Miami, baseball is left with Northern Virginia, which is like Golden State in that there really isn't a place called Northern Virginia at all. There also isn't a stadium or much political will to build one, but that's another story.

The NFL has Los Angeles, but it also has Al Davis, whose lawyers are casting their lean and hungry glances at anyone who wants to try to get there.

The NHL has Portland, even though Portland isn't particularly aching for the NHL. It also has Quebec and Winnipeg from earlier failures, but nobody seems to bring those up.

And the NBA has . . . well, the NBA likes Tokyo one weekend a year, if that floats your ship.

Plus, each of these leagues have more than one troubled/distressed/whiny team owner whose sense of entitlement surpasses his reach.

Thus, the Grizz are merely the latest team to seek an upgrade by buying down, and somehow we sense that Heisley will have no more success than any of his other brethren and sistren.

Perhaps if the team ever got better than, say, the Clippers or Warriors, Vancouver wouldn't seem so dreadful. Perhaps if they could find a modified Carter to go with the horribly alone Shareef Abdur-Rahim. Perhaps if they could stop expecting people to buy their product on the come.

Perhaps if they'd stop whining about all the things that were true the day Heisley bought the team.

That's the problem here. Heisley thought he could defy gravity in a year, and having failed to help his team win two of every five games, he wasn't likely to succeed in changing Canada's tax structure.

In other words, to quote the philosopher Henry Cabot Henhouse III, a.k.a. Super Chicken, he knew the job was dangerous when he took it. We should hold no sympathy for him.

But it sure was nice of him to wait until the All-Star Game ended anyway. Such thoughtfulness should at least get some token of Stern's esteem.

Say, this lovely "Property Of San Diego Rockets" sweatshirt in prison gray, size XXL. Autographed by Toby Kimball for extra value.

Ray Ratto of the San Francisco Chronicle is a frequent contributor to ESPN.com.