“Thanks for passing the torch…I think I burned my hand, though.”

I was reading an article from NBA Fanhouse Monday morning in which Matt Steinmetz was remembering the career of Nick Van Exel and it made me remember my constantly waffling view point of how he embodied the change between the hard-nosed style of play of the 1990s to the flash and image conscience youth of today. I was always a closeted Nick Van Exel fan from his first days in Cincy until his last days in San Antonio. There was nothing particularly amazing about his game when you break it down. He was a good, not great shooter. He was a solid ball-handler that didn’t make a ton of mistakes. He was an above average passer.

He had a ton of quirks to his style of play. He wore high socks when he was feeling squirrely. He stood about two-feet behind the line when he was shooting free throws. He was knock-kneed and a crafty lefty. He was a part of the sect of basketball players like Popeye Jones and Sam Cassell that were constantly compared to aliens because of their facial and head shapes. And he would look at a teammate the entire way down the court on a fastbreak before looking away as he passed it. It was a poor attempt at a no-look pass or maybe a tribute to Magic Johnson. I could never really figure that out.

No matter what you felt about Nick Van Exel as a person or a player, there were two certainties when he was on the court: 1) he was going to score points and 2) he was going to be volatile while doing so. Steinmetz mentions him pushing referee Ron Garretson back in 1996 as his most memorable moment in the NBA. This happened during a time in the NBA in which guys like Dennis Rodman, NVE, John Starks, and Vernon Maxwell were terrorizing the officials in the league. Sponsors were getting more and more frightened by the images of their products being associated with the imagery of these outlandish acts happening on the court, which eventually came to a head when Ron Artest burst onto the scene in Detroit (literally).

But I also would rather remember him for his incredible scoring ability. Actually, to me he was more than just a scoring point guard; he was an attitude of reckless abandon, defiance, and a walking example of having a problem with authority. He seemed to bang heads with coaches, players, officials, and others as a brash young, gunslinger. But he always put on a show in doing so. He was the origin of Gilbert Arenas’ style – a point guard that was too small to play shooting guard but too good to worry about where you played him. He carried the torch of this role from guys like Sleepy Floyd and Calvin Murphy and bridged the decade of the 90s before giving way to Arenas and today’s audacious young scorers.

NVE was never afraid to take the big shot or to put the scoring load on himself. He would reliably score when his team needed it. He would take on personal challenges and try to make them fit into the ultimate goal of a team win. He would make personal points to respond to challenges, even in big spots (like scoring 40 points in a 2003 playoff series game (Game Three) against the Kings after Bobby Jackson stated that he wouldn’t exploding for 36 again like he did in Game Two). As he got older and wiser, his scoring became more about fitting in than it did about proving his own worth. His style was converted into tangible currency like winning, instead of his usual panache that had no real discernable value.

Van Exel always seemed to be toeing the line between walking the company line in order to keep his minutes on the court consistent and being an ostentatious explosion of flair, capable of putting Barnum and Bailey out of business. He was one of those few players that I figured would never be seen again. He was a showman, playmaker, and great scorer but incredibly undersized compared to the bigger, faster point guards that have become nouveau riche. We can find guys like that scattered here or there but rarely with the same attitude that Van Exel possessed. The attitude that should put off the majority of fans but at the same time is too enticing to completely hate.

Thank Higher Being for Brandon Jennings.

Brandon Jennings may be the most confused professional basketball player we’ve ever seen. He’s all about self-worth, aggrandizing himself, and showing that he’s one of the best. But he does it in astonishingly unselfish ways. His attitude contradicts his play. He distributes. He makes the smart pass while making it fancy. He leads his team while judging them with eye-rolls and passive-aggressive sighs. His trip overseas wasn’t just a way to avoid college, classes, and not being paid a wage for his duties but it was also a Sonny Vaccaro style alternative of trail blazing for his future colleagues.

I honestly can’t figure out the psyche of Brandon Jennings and I’ve spent an unhealthy amount of time thinking about it over the last couple of weeks. He seems like an affable, fun guy and yet, acts completely adolescent between plays on the court. He seems like a one-person production of Coach Carter- trying to find the gray area between his eventual capsizing hubris and his natural instincts that shape him towards spreading the wealth on the court. He seems to be confused with his own identity as well but perhaps, he’s like a young puppy just trying to figure out what he can get away with.

His play in the Summer League was pretty telling of what we all expected from him. He passed the ball well (8.2 apg) and turned the ball over a lot (4.2). He was opportunistic on defense with 3.6 steals per game but a lot of those came from some lazy dribbles by Tyreke Evans while he unfocusedly brought the ball up. His shot was completely inconsistent. And his attitude replicated his shot. When he was on his mental game, Jennings was a great teammate as he calmly congratulated teammates after made baskets. But when they missed a ball, dropped a pass, or clanked a shot off the iron, his eyes rolled like spinning rims. He huffed and puffed like he was being kept out of a little pigs house one minute and acted like a leader the next. He was a good teammate until you blinked and saw that he was actually throwing a bit of a mini tantrum.

It’s rare that you get a great pass-first point guard that appears to be completely self-involved. The last time we saw this was probably Mark Jackson and all he did was end up with the second most assists in NBA history. With Jennings, it’s hard to predict where he’ll land in the world of NBA lore. Will he adhere to the rules and advice of Scott Skiles to become an All-Star point guard? Will he get into a petty war of words with Skiles on a consistent basis that nets him in-house fines and bewildering minutes given to Luke Ridnour? Will the smart move have been jettisoning Ramon Sessions, an assist machine, for the higher risk-reward Jennings? Will Jennings be known for eventually kicking Steve Javie in the teeth or will he rack up so many assists that we’re debating his HOF candidacy in 20 years?

There’s no way of predicting his career.

Even though he’s unlikely to give us the scoring exploits of what Nick Van Exel gave us over his career, I fully expect Jennings to carry on the legacy of bravado amongst semi-controversial point guards. Much like NVE, he has much growing up to do and it might not happen under the same cap he was wearing on draft night (you know, after he oops, pow surprised David Stern on stage). It may take a couple of travels until we begin to see the production that we anticipate appreciating. We’ll ooh and ah together before we turn around and cringe at his immaturity.

And then someday, he’ll pass the torch to the next guy.

Zach Harper also runs Talkhoops.net, a general NBA blog, and Cowbell Kingdom, a Sacramento Kings blog part of the TrueHoop Network. You can email him at zharper[at]talkhoops.net. You can also follow him on twitter here and also here.