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BEST HEAT PLAYER

Dwyane Wade

Who needs a seven-foot center? Not the Miami Heat. They've found competitiveness without some towering freak taller than most trees. A small, fast approach can work when a team rosters a number of versatile weapons, the best of whom is this 6-foot 4-inch rookie guard who can play the point, shoot the nets out, pass with precision, and launch himself above the big freaks to slam home a highlight-reel dunk. Wade's NBA arrival is like one of his ferocious slams, hinting at (dare we say) "Michael potential." The young man also happens to have helped the Heat reshape itself into a potential championship team. Off the court, Wade is a quiet, sleepy-looking, 22-year-old family man. But on the hardwood his cross-over move could break an opponent's ankle and his gravity-belying acrobatics can make a Heat fan out of a New Yorker. Can a kid turn around a team quickly and thoroughly? If his name's Dwyane Wade, bet it all he can.

BEST LOCAL SOLO MUSICIAN

Aaron Fishbein

Known around here as the guitarist for the Square Egg, the funk/R&B hybrid that recently escaped this fair land for the hustle and bustle of New York City, Fishbein is known by music industry insiders as a crack session player and songwriter. His craftsmanship can be found on hit recordings by Enrique Iglesias, Brandy, Christina Aguilera, and many others. Beyoncé's recent smash "Me, Myself, and I" is one: His wah-wah licks helped drive the hit song's narrative without overwhelming the It girl's vocals. It wasn't the first time that Fishbein subliminally tickled the nation's ears. Check the credits the next time you hear a tune you like. There's a chance his name will be among them.

BEST LOCAL SOLO MUSICIAN

Aaron Fishbein

Known around here as the guitarist for the Square Egg, the funk/R&B hybrid that recently escaped this fair land for the hustle and bustle of New York City, Fishbein is known by music industry insiders as a crack session player and songwriter. His craftsmanship can be found on hit recordings by Enrique Iglesias, Brandy, Christina Aguilera, and many others. Beyoncé's recent smash "Me, Myself, and I" is one: His wah-wah licks helped drive the hit song's narrative without overwhelming the It girl's vocals. It wasn't the first time that Fishbein subliminally tickled the nation's ears. Check the credits the next time you hear a tune you like. There's a chance his name will be among them.

BEST LOCAL SONGWRITER

Fernando Osorio

The test of a great songwriter is in the depth and variety of the songs. It's enough to hear Fernando Osorio perform the 2001 tune he wrote for Celia Cruz, "La Negra Tiene Tumbao" ("The Black Woman Has Swing"), in his own acoustic, shoe-gazing style to appreciate the infinite possibilities of his lyrics and melodies. Born in Bogotá and reared in Venezuela, this Miami resident has penned tunes for acts as diverse as Venezuelan crooner Ricardo Montaner, Dominican merenguero Sergio Vargas, Puerto Rican salsero Jerry Rivera, and urban New York trio DLG. But his greatest gifts to listeners so far have been Celia's last two blockbuster hits, which Osorio co-wrote with producer Sergio George: "La Negra" and "Rie y Llora" ("Laugh and Cry"). There can be no doubt that this songwriter has swing or that his hour has arrived -- deep and diverse.

BEST LOCAL SONGWRITER

Fernando Osorio

The test of a great songwriter is in the depth and variety of the songs. It's enough to hear Fernando Osorio perform the 2001 tune he wrote for Celia Cruz, "La Negra Tiene Tumbao" ("The Black Woman Has Swing"), in his own acoustic, shoe-gazing style to appreciate the infinite possibilities of his lyrics and melodies. Born in Bogotá and reared in Venezuela, this Miami resident has penned tunes for acts as diverse as Venezuelan crooner Ricardo Montaner, Dominican merenguero Sergio Vargas, Puerto Rican salsero Jerry Rivera, and urban New York trio DLG. But his greatest gifts to listeners so far have been Celia's last two blockbuster hits, which Osorio co-wrote with producer Sergio George: "La Negra" and "Rie y Llora" ("Laugh and Cry"). There can be no doubt that this songwriter has swing or that his hour has arrived -- deep and diverse.

BEST WEATHERCASTER

Jackie Johnson

If weathercasters were ever accurate, this award would probably go to the one who was most often on the money about rain showers and cold fronts. But because forecasts are all the same and as reliable as a Bush administration intelligence report, the winner here must have something beyond the latest bulletin from the weather bureau. No weathercaster is as easy on the eyes as WSVN-TV's Jackie Johnson (Channel 7). Attractive, shapely, a self-described "outdoor girl" from Michigan, Double J has made the weather segment a must-see, especially among young males who judge women by superficialities like attractiveness, figure, and affinity for the outdoors. Her station knows this way too well: Sex appeal is what makes Johnson and WSVN a perfect match. She even has a special feature, "Living It Up," wherein assignments range from learning to handle the throttle on a speedboat to playing beach volleyball to "surfing" on South Beach. Segments like the last thrust a scantily clad, dripping wet Johnson straight into your throbbing living room. And you thought meteorologists were boring.

BEST CHANNELING OF JACKIE GLEASON

Buster Poindexter at the Jackie Gleason Theater

If you're going to channel the big man, and in his old headquarters no less, be sure to go all the way. Which is just what David Johansen did, sifting through his many onstage guises -- from the folk of his current outfit the Harry Smiths to the glam punk of his fabled early-Seventies New York Dolls -- to resurrect Buster Poindexter, a loving sendup of the Rat Pack crooners that resulted in his fluke 1987 hit "Hot Hot Hot." So, tossing his scarf jauntily over his shoulder, and with a highball raised, ol' Buster led his eminently swinging twelve-piece band through a spirited set. There were brilliantly corny monologues and a downright touching lament for the now-vanished seediness of South Beach: "They don't smoke/They don't drink/They turned this town into a mall and I don't know what to think!" The crowning moment: a conga line that circled the Jackie Gleason, capping a night that would've made the Honeymooner proud.

BEST CHANNELING OF JACKIE GLEASON

Buster Poindexter at the Jackie Gleason Theater

If you're going to channel the big man, and in his old headquarters no less, be sure to go all the way. Which is just what David Johansen did, sifting through his many onstage guises -- from the folk of his current outfit the Harry Smiths to the glam punk of his fabled early-Seventies New York Dolls -- to resurrect Buster Poindexter, a loving sendup of the Rat Pack crooners that resulted in his fluke 1987 hit "Hot Hot Hot." So, tossing his scarf jauntily over his shoulder, and with a highball raised, ol' Buster led his eminently swinging twelve-piece band through a spirited set. There were brilliantly corny monologues and a downright touching lament for the now-vanished seediness of South Beach: "They don't smoke/They don't drink/They turned this town into a mall and I don't know what to think!" The crowning moment: a conga line that circled the Jackie Gleason, capping a night that would've made the Honeymooner proud.

BEST COMMANDO HANGOUT

Loop Road

A lovely hot winter's afternoon on this winding way through the Everglades adjacent to Tamiami Trail. Indians in new-model sedans waving as they blow by. Two French women pigmenting canvases with the bold black-and-white images of wood storks set against the verdancy of piny perches. A dozen alligators basking by the shallows. A rubber-booted phycologist holding a magnifying glass above a scummy rock. An assortment of unusual structures that nonconformists call home. An eyes-to-the-ground snake collector toting a pillowcase and walking stick. An anhinga spreading its wings after a postlunch swim. The blue and white of the endless sky giving way to the ochre-orange fade of the sun. Peace in the swamp. And then -- yikes! Pickup trucks with Confederate flags across the rear windows screech to a halt. Out spring cropped-top, fatigue-wearing, gun-toting, painted-face warriors of unknown affiliation. Seriously serious-looking soldiers without a war whom one dare not risk approaching. In fact hitting the gas and getting the hell out of there is the right idea. Talk about your freaks of nature.

BEST PLACE TO STARGAZE

The Old Trail

About 25 or 30 miles out on the Tamiami Trail there's a swerving turnoff that leads to a T-shaped strip of asphalt to nowhere. It runs parallel to the trail and about three or four city blocks in length, bordered by trees, marsh, and muck. At night especially, it's rare to encounter anyone other than the occasional snake collector or frog gigger, although possums, rabbits, and plenty of other creatures, including an occasional (extremely occasional) bobcat, come out to feed, fight, or facilitate offspring. Here, there is peace. And a stunning over-the-trees view of sunsets followed by utter darkness that allows for spectacular looks at a night sky unencumbered by the ambient light of the city. To be caught here in the middle of a thunderstorm is bliss, and when the stars put on a show (meteor showers and such), there is no better place to watch as you ponder your utter insignificance in the universe.

Best Of Miami®

Best Of Miami®

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