The most talented players bring the biggest egos, and that’s why something really cool might come out of the latest lockout summer league, first reported by HOOPSWORLD on Monday night: a two-week exhibition involving teams composed of about 70 players affiliated with Impact Basketball, one of the big-time offseason training destinations for NBA players.
Only NBA guys will play, and Impact, which is organizing the league, hopes to run two games per day over two weeks in Las Vegas starting in mid-September, according to HOOPSWORLD. Impact is still working out the logistics and the rosters. An official from Impact was not immediately available to speak with SI.com on Tuesday morning. John Wall, Paul Pierce, Rudy Gay, Monta Ellis, Kevin Garnett, Tyreke Evans, Rajon Rondo and Josh Smith are among the potential participants HOOPSWORLD cites because of their ties to Impact.
“Basketball in Vegas.” If you read those three words and didn’t immediately get excited and nod in agreement, you’re either:
1.) Under the age of 21.
2.) Imaginary.
Las Vegas is a basketball fan’s paradise, lacking in only one thing for most of the year – actual basketball. Any one of the major sports books would be enough to slake even the most die-hard fan’s thirst for as many games as possible, and Vegas gives you a smorgasbord of them from which to choose. Want to enjoy the game with a cold beverage? They’ll bring them to you while you scream at Vince Carter on a 90″ plasma television; if you choose to place a friendly wager or two, the drinks are “free!”* Feel like poking fun at a poor fan of a team that barely has a record worse than yours? You’ll find people from all over the world in Vegas. You can even scream nonsense at a group of tourists who may or may not be from China about ”Yao Ming” being Chinese for “Sam Bowie!” In Las Vegas, you’re not just a basketball fan who knows everything – you’re a f—ing copy of Rosetta Stone!
*(Price of drink does not include loss of car payment to the smiling teller behind the counter eager to take your bet on your favorite team to win it all).
In years past, the NBA Summer League has made Vegas the place to be during the off-season. Sure, the presence of actual basketball during our schedule-induced fasting helps, but the city herself sounds her own sirens call. No one wants to be outside (unless you’re by a body of water or walking, drink in hand, from one casino to the next on the Strip) in the sweltering Nevada heat, and basketball offers a communal experience indoors, in the air conditioning, and the chance to see players trying to learn the game or make it back from the brink. Sure, you had to take in the games at the Thomas & Mack Center, a building that was too small for a minor league hockey team two decades ago, but that’s Vegas. It’s like someone combined the NIT and basketball rehab in a cocktail shaker, then poured the concoction into the middle of the desert. You deal with the sleaze in order to have a blast.
While Jared Dudley (who’s pimping the league out on twitter in typical JMZ-fashion) and the rest of the players involved with Impact may not offer the most compelling or competitive games on the planet every night out, the fact that they’ll use NBA rules and instill some semblance of order is refreshing. Maybe we won’t see sets run deep into the shot clock or Kevin Garnett-like intensity on the defensive end of the floor, but at least we’ll get our customary basketball in Las Vegas.
You might not want to live there, but it’s a hell of a place to go to see a game. And if you’re not a fan of Vegas or of basketball in the city, then you can take it up with Kareem.
I remember reading the John Henry legend in second grade. It stuck with me because it was so weird. Why was anyone that proud of hammering? Does the fact that he won the race signify that no machine can conquer the human spirit or the fact that he died signify that an inconcquerable spirit is a long term negative?
I don’t know, and at this point in human development it’s probably irrelevant as we either won or lost that battle a long time ago.
Most of our legends have no original author, though there may be many claims to the title. The tale of Paul Pierce is largely different; if it weren’t for Tony Battie and his brother, this story may never have been told.
Pierce has become the John Henry of the NBA – perhaps not of the same stature, but a man capable of equally breathtaking displays of consistent excellence. A player most renown for his ability to get to his spot on the floor at will – “just to the right of the foul stripe, 19 feet and in” – wields that power like the mythical Henry and his hammer, blasting holes big enough to accommodate a freight train through defensive mountains.
On September 25, 2000, of course, Pierce’s legend threatened to turn to tragedy. Attempting to play peace-maker outside of a nightclub, he was jumped by three men and stabbed 11 times. Security lifted the bloodied Pierce to Battie’s car, and Tony and his brother, Derrick, rushed Pierce to a local hospital. They may very well have saved Pierce’s life – he had lost so much blood that he reportedly recalled asking the emergency room doctors if he was going to die. His injuries required lung surgery. Yet Pierce was the only Celtic to start all 82 games in the 2000-2001 season. He posted the third highest PER of his entire career.
Not that there has been much variance in his performance over the years. His lowest PER is 17.8; his highest, 23.6. He has been good for a stable .160 to .180 WS/48 throughout his time in the NBA – though, like Henry peaking at the end of his race with the steel-driving machine, Pierce has produced a late-career double peak of .207 WS/48 in 2007-2008 and .201 last year.
With Battie, Pierce becomes the Celtic who was there for the awful years – the pre-shimmy Antoine era – and for the redemption. He is the folk hero who challenged Jerry Buss, the owner of Pierce’s childhood fantasies, who challenged the steel-driver that is Kobe Bryant*, and won. Without Battie, Pierce (whose WS/48 hovered around .150 in his first two seasons before the stabbing) joins the catalog of tragedy in post-Bird Boston basketball, another young man and shining star burned out before his time due to harrowing circumstances.
*Bryant is 10 months younger than Pierce but made his league debut two and a half years earlier – a combination of Bryant coming out of high school and Pierce’s debut being delayed by the 98-99 lockout. By most metrics, Bryant is the more efficient offensive player; he is the cold, single-purpose Machine of the NBA (with all apologies to Sasha Vujacic).
Perhaps that playoff run in 07-08 and that first Finals against the Lakers took too much out of the old Celtics and contributed to Kevin Garnett’s subsequent injury. But at the end of the 2008 NBA Finals, it was Pierce, not Bryant, who stood as MVP. Though the chances for the Celtics to repeat in 08-09 may have been dashed, the race against the Machine had been won.
Until the day he retires, Paul Pierce will wield his hammer at his choosing, getting to his favorite spot on the floor when he so wishes. It’s the stuff of legends. At least with this folk story, we know whom to thank for keeping the dream alive.
Cleveland Cavaliers are planning to honor Zydrunas Ilgauskas by retiring the player’s jersey. This came to light on Kyrie Irving’s, Cavs number one pick in the 2011 NBA Draft, trip in China, when the guard admitted that he wanted to choose number 11, but was told that the number was going to be retired.
What do the above names have in common? Not MVPs and championship rings. And no, not the elusive status of “top-20″ players of all-time. The bond these big man share — other than the fact they’re at least a foot taller than the average male — is that they’ll have their jerseys retired sometime in the near future.
O’Neal, Duncan, Garnett and Nowitzki are chronicled legends. They’ve amassed titles, MVPs and All-NBA awards. There’s no need to toot their horn. Ilgauskas, on the other hand, comes as a surprise. On paper, his career wasn’t that impressive. 13.0 PPG, 7.3 RPG, 1.6 BPG, .780 FT% and two All-Star appearances. Solid, but nothing spectacular. He’s never won a championship, made an All-NBA team or been considered one of the league’s best big men.
Very rarely are NBA players honored for the type of person they are. There are awards for charity and sportsmanship, but nothing memorable. There’s no recognition on the level of the other prestigious awards (no publicized press conference, interviews, etc.). And that’s fine; most players do good deeds because they want to change lives, not garner praise.
But what if a player dedicated his entire career to pleasing a particular franchise? So much so that one of the interwebs’ best young bloggers, John Krolik, wrote a poem comparing him to the infamous “The Giving Tree” by Shel Silverstein. Well, that player would be Zydraunas Ilgauskas. Throughout his 12-year career with Cleveland, Ilgauskas was an iron giant. Even with his numerous foot surgeries (that ended up robbing him of his athleticism and prime), he still managed to play at least 78 games six different times.
When healthy, he gave the Cavaliers one of the most unique skill-sets we had seen from a 7-foot-3 player. Big Z could post up, hit midrange and long-range jumpers with elite accuracy, pass from the high post — they often ran their offense through him, defend the rim with his mammoth-like size (he was an underrated shot-blocker), and grab offensive rebounds at an alarming rate. Yet he meant more than that to them. Ilgauskas gave the Cavs an identity. He was their heart and soul. Most importantly, he was loyal.
When LeBron James was drafted in 2003 and took over as the team’s alpha dog, Big Z was fine with giving James the spotlight. At the heart of the Cavs’ supremacy, in 2009 and 2010, Z was content with giving his minutes to Shaquille O’Neal, Antawn Jamison, J.J. Hickson and Anderson Varejao. After the Jamison trade, Ilgauskas was released by the Wizards, waited the allotted time period, and came back despite no longer having a role on the team. Yet through all the drama he stayed with the Cavs for 12 years, finally leaving this past offseason for greener pastures in Miami. But even then, he was did Cleveland a service, as they no longer needed him.
In a sport run by greed, money and fame, it’s nice to someone who has compassion and virtues. Even though Ilgauskas wasn’t the best player in Cavalier history, or even among the top-3, he may be the most important. He did everything they wanted their “King” to do. So for that, he deserves all the credit and acclaim he will get, including a retired jersey.
With the threat of a shortened or even cancelled season upon us, there is very little we can do to restore a shred of basketball into our lives. What we can do, though, is reminisce over other “lost” seasons. Seasons which saw players or teams achieve extraordinary things that go beyond titles or awards, only to fade back into the background one year later. Here we will bring the tale of these lost seasons, the ones that touched us on a personal level, the ones we will never forget, though history itself might.
This edition focuses on Tracy McGrady’s remarkable 2002-2003 campaign with The Orlando Magic.
There’s something incredibly damning about potential. Players are doomed to be compared to versions of themselves that exist entirely in the hypothetical realm — versions that may or may not have been readily attainable. If an individual doesn’t squeeze every last ounce of performance out of his basketball ability he’s labeled as lazy, not committed enough, a loser. Tracy McGrady has at one point or another been hit with all of the above. In the eyes of many, T-Mac committed the unforgivable crime of wasting his talent. His practice habits have been called into question and his lack of playoff and team success are an easy target for those who wish to diminish McGrady’s accomplishments as a player.
What gets lost in the shuffle is that in the 2002-2003 season, before his back, shoulder, and knees hindered his incredible athleticism, McGrady gave basketball fans exactly what they wanted: a transcendent season of basketball.
Flying Solo
This wasn’t what McGrady had envisioned. When he was acquired in a sign-and-trade from Toronto, he was supposed to be joining as part of a two-headed attack. McGrady and Grant Hill had a chance at being one of the all time great wing pairings. Unfortunately, Hill’s ankles had other plans. In McGrady’s first season with the Magic, Hill played four games. In their second season together, Hill faired only slightly better (again limited by injuries), appearing in just 14 games.
At the start of the 02-03 season, there was a bubbling optimism surrounding the team. It appeared Grant was going to be healthy and the world was finally going to get a glimpse at the Hill-McGrady combo. Alas, Hill’s season would end after 29 games and leave McGrady to once again carry what can only be described as an abysmal supporting cast. A twice washed up and pastry-filled Shawn Kemp started 54 of the team’s games, posting an 11.7 PER and 0.059 WS/48. Jacques Vaughn, the team’s starting point guard for most of the year, could neither shoot (23.5% from behind the arc) nor create for his teammates (2.9 Ast/gm). The Magic’s only other legitimate player, Mike Miller, was traded for Drew Gooden and Gordan Giricek (a supposed three-point specialist who shot below 35% from deep). McGrady was alone, forced to carry a beleaguered squad upon his back.
A Peek at Greatness
Great art often comes from the most dark and desperate of places. Struggle and vulnerability often brings out the best in an artist’s creative sensibility. For Tracy McGrady, it was no different. He was trapped, faced with a nearly impossible situation. Instead of wilting, giving into overwhelming odds, McGrady gave us his masterpiece.
Every single night McGrady was the head of what was essentially a one-man offense, carrying the Magic to a 42-40 record. He finished the season averaging 32 points, 5 rebounds, and 6 assists, shooting 45.7% from the field, 79.3% from the line, and 38.6% from behind the arc, translating to a TS% of 56.2 (In comparison, Kevin Durant has shot 35.0% and 36.5% from 3-point range during the last two seasons). He assisted on an estimated 30% of teammates baskets while on the floor and posted a WS/48 (0.262) and WARP (23.5) that were better than any other MVP candidate from that year (Thanks to Eddy Rivera’s awesome piece over at MagicBasketball). Furthermore, McGrady’s 30+ PER (30.3) placed him in a club the includes only Michael Jordan, Chris Paul, LeBron James, Wilt Chamberlain, Dwyane Wade, David Robinson, and Shaquille O’Neal. Using PER (which is by no means a perfect metric) as a determinant, McGrady put together the 14th most efficient season in NBA history.
As I scoured YouTube for footage to help me remember just how incredible McGrady was, I came across this video of his showdown with Kobe Bryant. During the fourth quarter, after Kobe hits a ridiculous jumper over McGrady (2:40 mark of the video), Bill Walton poses an interesting question, “At what point do we start talking about [Bryant and McGrady] in the same sentence and thought with Michael Jordan, Larry Bird, and Magic Johnson?”. Knowing what we know now, the comparison (at least in McGrady’s case) seems somewhat absurd. But the question captures the promise and possibility that still existed in McGrady’s career. He was only 23 years old; in the midst of one of the greatest individual campaigns in NBA history. It was a small taste. A little preview, and the beginning of things to come.
Graceful Dominance
McGrady’s ability to completely own the offensive side of the floor was unlike anything before or since. He didn’t have the psychotic persistence of Jordan and Kobe, nor the strength and force to overwhelm the opposition like Shaq or LeBron. McGrady was the basketball natural, possessing incredible length and athleticism that combined with the smoothest of jump shots and a deft handle. He had a Pandora’s box of offensive skills, and a subdued, almost somber approach to the game. McGrady would catch the ball at the wing and hold the ball away from the defender with one hand, relaxed, patiently waiting for the right moment to strike. Everything was elegant, effortless, and seemingly lazy. Every languid, agile, move towards the basket, every jump shot released without any concern for the outstretched arm below, every cross court pass that found an open shooter. His sleepy-eyed look reminded the opposition that the game came easy to him.
He was born to score; born to glide from one side of the key to the other, finishing Dr. J-esque layups with relative easy. There was something poetic about McGrady’s play. He didn’t dominate because he was forced to, or because he needed to prove something. He did it because it was in his DNA; a part of his existence. A basketball prodigy, intrinsically in harmony with the game around him.
The Underdog Chokes
Through nothing short of a herculean effort by McGrady, the Magic were able to finish with a 42-40 record. This netted them the eighth seed in the Eastern Conference and a matchup with the Detroit Pistons. It was supposed to be a quick series. Maybe Orlando would grab one at home, but that would be all. Unfortunately for Detroit, T-Mac had other plans:
McGrady excoriated the Pistons on their home floor. It was a never-ending onslaught of contested jumpers and unbelievable finishes. When the dust settled, McGrady had 43 points, including an absolute obliteration of Mehmet Okur. He finished a reverse layup that was characteristically smooth and equally absurd, combined with a stretch in the second half in which McGrady scored 12 consecutive points. The Pistons were completely overwhelmed; incapable of pushing back. Every concerted defensive effort was stifled by the lanky, lethargic swingman. After the game, Rick Carlisle praised McGrady’s performance, calling him “arguably the best player on the planet”.
The Magic would drop Game 2 (despite T-Mac putting on an even better performance: 46 pts on 61.5% shooting) and then shockingly win both games at home to take a commanding 3-1 lead. After game 4, McGrady would unknowingly utter the words that would come to define him. A sentence that would live on in infamy, forever haunting his place in history. “It feels good to finally be in the second round.” What happened next is well-documented. The Pistons, with the help of some incredible defense by their unheralded rookie Tayshaun Prince, would lock down both McGrady and the Magic; winning the next three games by an average of more than 20 points. Instead of the Pistons, it was McGrady who had “choked”. His momentary slip-up, a brief display of arrogance, had invited an avalanche of criticism. Suddenly, we were blaming McGrady for failing to achieve the impossible.
The 2002-2003 season serves as the epitome of Tracy McGrady’s career. We saw the power and elegance that emanated from a unique set of athletic gifts and basketball skills, witnessed a single player nearly pull of an improbable upset, and became exposed to the pain and confusion that would follow McGrady throughout his career. It was his entire basketball existence encapsulated in 89 games. The breathtaking brilliance, the thwarted will, the lack of effort(real or perceived) ,the near triumph, and the crushing defeat.
Be it luck, fate, poor decision-making or some perverse combination of the three, Tracy McGrady’s career didn’t play out the way it was supposed to. There were too many first-round exits. Too many lackluster supporting casts. Too many times he was asked to carry an exceedingly heavy burden. The frustration only compounded by his own failures and shortcomings during the latter end of his tenure with Houston. His body was ravaged with injuries, robbed of its once awe-inspiring athleticism. His mind and spirit weary from the seemingly endless stream of loss. The same game he was engineered by the gods to play, the game he dominated with ease, the game he loved so much had ultimately betrayed him. A greatness likely to be dismissed if not all together forgotten. His entire career a cruel exercise in futility.
In a 1972 game against the Squires, [Paultz] hit his first eight shots, and finished with 13 field goals in 15 attempts. Rick Barry scored 43 points and John Roche 37 points that same evening. “I get 33 and I’m the third high scorer on the team,” complained Paultz. “Are you kidding me?”
Career Stats: 11.7 ppg, 8.0 rpg, 2.0 apg, 1.5 bpg, 0.5 spg, 49.7% FG, 69.0% FT
Accolades: 3x ABA All-Star (1973, ’75-’76), 1974 ABA Champion (Nets)
Now there’s an insightful quote into both, Billy Paultz and the ABA. The league was all about flash and pizzazz, glitz and glamor. On a night where Paultz goes a-wreckin’ for 33 points on 13-15 shooting, he’s still not the brightest light shining on the court. Nonetheless, Paultz revealed his affable, self-effacing and humble personality in discussing his misfortune. Barry and Roche may have overshadowed him that night, but for someone with no organized basketball experience until his senior year in high school (1966), Paultz was doing quite well for himself.
Drafted by the NBA’s San Diego Rockets and the ABA’s Virginia Squires in 1971, Paultz opted for the ABA and was soon traded by Virginia to his hometown New York Nets. What the Nets got was an uncoordinated heap of man that would be nicknamed “The Whopper” for his well apportioned waistline and the hamburger that kept it so. Nets teammate Rick Barry quipped “I didn’t believe he could possibly make it…” and Jim O’Brien added his two cents: “An ardent surfer, but the way he moved at the outset of his rookie season it was hard to envision him keeping his balance on shore let alone sea.” The off-balance Whopper nonetheless averaged 14.7 points and 8.4 rebounds during his rookie year.
David Stern said recently that the league would look at the option of contraction if needed. But according to a study done by On Numbers via Biz Journals, 22 markets in the United States and Canada have the financial wherewithal to support new NBA teams.
Well ain’t that good news! The NBA could theoretically support 22 additional teams for an overall total of 52! The only major hurdles are finding ownership groups and quality talent to fill out the teams (and a new CBA to actually allow the league to function).
Overlooking these minor obstacles, the NBA sincerely has a chance to profligate itself to a Wal-Martian degree. Now, I won’t bore you with my ignorant understanding of the financial aspects of such expansion, but I will enthrall you with the most fun aspect of any expansion… TEAM NAMES!
Note: In the interest of brevity, I will only name the top 10 candidates and not all 22.
10. Richmond Stonewalls
A hotbed of secessionism in the 1860s and gay rights activism a century later, I can think of no better name to slap upon Richmond than “Stonewall”. It was the nickname of Confederate General Thomas Jackson who died in combat in Virginia during the American Civil War and it was also the scene of a revolt by gay men against discriminatory policing. (Only one of these story lines is actually true).
9. San Jose Silicons
California’s 3rd and America’s 10th largest city, San Jose lies in the heart of Silicon Valley and the Bay Area could easily support a 2nd team. The only possible downside to the nickname is the double entendre with breast implants that will surely ruin the psyche of any cheerleader deemed to not be bosomed enough by society’s ridiculous standards.
8. Hartford Hansa
Hartford is one of America’s leading financial centers and in the spirit of that mercantile mettle, I would saddle their team with the name Hansa, which is the Latin term for the Medieval alliance of merchant states in Northern Europe, the Hanseatic League. With Hansa, Hartford would get a rather imposing Teutonic mascot and alliteration. Always alliterate any available chance allowed.
Potential and slighly histocially inaccurate mascot for Hartford / photo by F.C. Woodhouse from History-World.org
7. Austin Sixers
Yes, the Sixers. Philadelphia is the Seventy-Sixers, so I’m sure Philly fans can go back to pronouncing 3 extra syllables. Anyways, back to Austin. The number 6 is very important to Austin in two ways. Firstly, the city is a hotbed of live music and notably served as a favorite spot for Stevie Ray Vaughan and Double Trouble. SRV like many Austin music notables plays the guitar, which has how many strings? 6. Secondly, the hub of Austin’s music and night life is what street? 6th. I rest my case.
6. Providence Steamrollers
Whenever you can resurrect dead teams, you do it. And let me tell you, this is gonna be one hell of a resurrection. The Steamrollers were one of the original 11 NBA franchises in 1946 but were ironically one of the first teams to be demolished in 1949. Not that anyone missed them much. The 1947-48 squad went 6-42.
5. Hampton Roads Monitors
Encompassing the Norfolk-Virginia Beach metro area, Hampton Roads has always been a center of naval activity. The most famous venture in these parts was the 1st ever battle between ironclad ships, the USS Monitor and the CSS Virginia during the American Civil War. Both ships just shot cannon balls at each other fruitlessly until they tired and settled for a draw. EXCITING STUFF!!!
Possible mascot for Hampton Roads since ironclad ships don't fit in basketball arenas / Photo by foto.rajith from Flickr
4. Las Vegas Sinners
Self-explanatory.
3. Bridgeport Frisbees
Home to the Frisbie Pie Company, Bridgeport is considered in some circles the birthplace of the Frisbee. Children would eat the delicious pie and toss the Frisbie pan around afterwards for fun. Personally, I think it’s a bit ridiculous to now have 4 NBA teams in New England (Boston, Hartford, Providence and now Bridgeport). However, this tenuous state of affairs could be overlooked maybe even stabilized if Bridgeport went a step further and just went by Ultimate Bridgeport.
2. Montreal Patriotes
A second Canadian team would be marvelous and Montreal is one of the world’s finest cities. Naming the team “Patriotes” (French for “patriot”) is related to a quasi-nationalistic movement in the 1830s directed at overbearing British colonial rule. And what the world really needs is more sports teams serving as reminders of rebellion. And poutine.
1.Riverside Imperials
Comprising the center of California’s Inland Empire, Riverside reigns supreme on the list of potential NBA markets. From using Roman motifs to Galactic Empire storm troopers, the options for commercializing the name “Imperials” is a goldmine. Most importantly, they should have Little Anthony sing the national anthem as often as possible.
The NBA on August 18 released its full 2011 preseason schedule, in the event that the NBA is able to reach a new collective bargaining agreement with the NBPA in a timely fashion.
Back in the good old days, NBA teams would have to barnstorm the country in efforts to gin up interest in the fledgling league and to receive the income from ticket sales to keep operations afloat. Yes, in these good old days, teams would travel by train and bus or a commercial airline, if extremely lucky, and black players would face rather profane heckling at the gyms and segregation outside them. Yes, the good old days. The last vestige of this barnstorming era can still be found in the preseason schedule when teams play a couple of games in local cities and towns to ensure regional interest (minus the institutionalized racism).
This past week we received the NBA’s preseason schedule and it was met with a round of hearty jokes/laments at the near impossibility of any games taking place. Basketball fans everywhere will suffer, but there are a special few who will endure the most pain from this farce. The basketball fans in these barnstorm towns are the biggest losers and below I’ve singled out the biggest of the biggest losers, what in particular they should curse about missing these games and, in a fit of accepting optimism, what to do instead.
October 17: New Orleans @ Oklahoma City, INTRUST Bank Arena, Wichita, KS
What to curse: Jayhawk fans will miss an opportunity to see Kansas legend Nick Collison in action, in person.
What to do instead: Why not take out that 45 rpm single of Glenn Campbell’s “Wichita Lineman”, grab a bottle of hooch and sing the night away?
October 17: Portland @ Phoenix, Rogers Arena, Vancouver, BC
What to curse: the good people of Vancouver will miss out on seeing local talent Steve Nash who is from nearby Victoria on beautiful Vancouver Island.
What to do instead: cross over Georgia Sound and take in the best of Vancouver Island including Victoria Harbour and the Royal London Wax Museum! Just don’t riot. Please.
October 25: Utah @ Golden State Bismarck, Civic Center, Bismarck, ND
What to curse: the inexplicable and once-in-a-lifetime chance to see Golden State and Utah play a game in North Dakota. Will Monta Ellis ever get another chance to ride a moped down the streets of the Kaiser City?
What to do instead: If Old Man Winter hasn’t taken complete control yet, visit Fort Abraham Lincoln and see the site of George Custer’s last post before the Lakota Indians took him and his command to the cleaners at Little Bighorn.
October 26: Houston @ New Orleans, Mississippi Coast Coliseum, Biloxi, MS
What to curse: Mississippians on the beautiful Gulf Coast can get ornery about missing a battle of epic proportions as CP3 (Chris Paul) meets with KLOE (Kyle Lowry… over everything).
After a month of being forced to consider playing overseas or getting a job at Home Depot, several players of experience and leadership banded together to form Lockout Class, a group dedicated to helping players through the lockout. Here, in this fictional and nonexistent class, they’ll talk about coping with a loss of livelihood, summer pickup games, and a myriad of other topics. The group is led by veteran (also, bald) players, Brian Cardinal and Shane Battier. The two sit at the front of the crowded room behind a large desk. The room is filled with NBA players. Spencer Hawes can be seen in the background wearing a shirt that says “The Second Amendment: As Real As It Gets“.
Brian Cardinal: Everyone! Quiet down, Nate Robinson. We have stuff to talk about. Shane, what’s first on the agenda?
Shane Battier: We need to figure out a plan of action to get our jobs back.
Brian Cardinal: Anybody have any ideas? Yeah, Chris?
Chris “Birdman” Andersen: I say we all get tattoos that say “Mid-Level Exception or Bust!” That’ll hit ‘em right where it hurts.
Brian Cardinal: Anybody else got any ideas? I’ll put that under “Field Trip Ideas”, Chris, but let’s try to focus on something else right now.
Shane Battier: How about we just do a rapid-fire round? Everybody just get their ideas out there. Just say the first thing that comes to mind.
Jared Dudley: Social networking!
Andy Rautins and Landry Fields (in unison): Bro-ing out!
Kris Humphries: Reality show!
Rajon Rondo: I think we should ask Kendrick what he wants to do before we decide anything, you guys.
Carlos Boozer: I’m yelling! Pay attention to me!
Eddy Curry: Wendy’s is a great restaurant!
Brad Miller: Quiet anger!
There’s an awkward silence. Everyone around the room looks at each other. Someone (most likely Juwan Howard) in the room mutters, “I’m getting too old for this s***.” Brian Cardinal sighs and turns to grab a gavel labeled Cleanliness Is Godliness, as if about to declare the end of the meeting. Suddenly, a mysterious voice whispers in the background.
“I have an idea.” The origin of the voice is unclear.
Brian Cardinal: Well, speak up. We’re all ears here.
The speaker emerges from behind a door.
Stephon Marbury: I know this might sound crazy, but I say we form our own league.
Shane Battier: Come on, you know that won’t work. By the way, why are you here if you’re not even in the league anymore?
Stephon Marbury: That isn’t important now. What’s important is that I, I mean we, get back in the NBA again. We need to convince these owners to end the lockout as soon as possible. And what’s going to show them better than us forming our own league? That’ll surprise ‘em like a bucket of Vaseline straight to the face.
Brian Cardinal: I don’t know? Most things, probably. We could have our own charity car wash.
Gilbert Arenas: Or we could prank call David Stern and tell him that the players are only willing to compromise if we get to tweet during games.
Shane Battier: Please tell me one of you has a better suggestion.
Kobe Bryant: I say we put me in charge, and we’ll go from there.
Shane Battier: Well, what are your ideas?
Kobe Bryant: Doesn’t really matter. Put me in charge, and it’ll work itself out.
Brian Cardinal: Anybody else have anything to say? I’m getting tired of this.
Chris Kaman: Wait, I figured it out. Remember that movie Armageddon?
Chris Kaman: Remember how Bruce Willis had to go up on that big rock thingy to save the planet?
The nodding continues.
Chris Kaman: Well, the way I see it, he met his problems head on. Him and Ben Affleck had to get on that rock before they could blow it up. We should do that.
Brian Cardinal: What?
Stephon Marbury: See, I think I see what Chris is getting at. We need to call NASA.
Chris Kaman: Not quite. Metaphors, man. You’ll all get it eventually.
Nate Robinson: Can we do one more lightning round?
Shane Battier: Sure, why not?
Jeff Foster: Modeling!
Derrick Rose: I say we just chill out.
Kevin Love: Stubble beard solidarity!
Brandon Roy: Anybody wanna switch knees? I promise I’ll give yours back.
John Salmons: Let’s organize a trade! That always works!
Matt Bonner: I was into lockouts before they were cool.
Brian Cardinal: That’s it. Meeting adjourned. Please try to have better ideas next time.
Gordon: “Last year, everything that possibly could have went wrong, went wrong. We had a lot of talent. There were a lot of issues in the front office, on the floor, with coaches, with players. It was just a mess. People from the outside looking in don’t realize how bad it was.
I feel bad for Ben Gordon. Yes, the same Ben Gordon that made $10.8 million last season. The one who received that huge contract because of his efficient scoring and has failed to score efficiently since. I feel bad for him because, overpaid or not, one-dimensional or not, Gordon is a professional. A professional doesn’t cuss out his coach in front of his teammates or boycott any shootarounds. A professional does his job to the best of his ability, regardless of what’s going on around him. Despite all the off-the-court nonsense, Gordon played all 82 games last year. No other Piston can say that.
It has to be frustrating to be a part of a fractured, chaotic locker room. It has to be extra frustrating when you’re trying to redeem yourself after a disappointing, injury-plagued season. Add the knowledge that you’re on an irrelevant team, just two seasons removed from a 42-point game in one of the best playoff series of all time, as your ex-teammates are steamrolling through the entire league. All this, in your prime, with no sign of the situation turning around? Terrible.
Gordon has to hope that there is, in new coach Lawrence Frank’s words, “a reset” in Detroit. When the players are allowed back to work, the Pistons should feel like a new team. Tayshaun Prince better not be re-signed. Tracy McGrady has to walk, too. They need to exhaust every avenue to trade Rip Hamilton. If it was me, I’d dump Ben Wallace to a contender and strongly consider letting Rodney Stuckey leave, despite his talent. The Pistons have some nice young pieces – Greg Monroe, Austin Daye, Jonas Jerebko, and Brandon Knight – but they need the opportunity to develop in the right environment. It’ll still be tough for a guy like Gordon, but rebuilding is better than whatever the hell last season was.
It’s been a summer of lists — or at least that’s how it has seemed. Over the past few weeks the NBA blogosphere has been inundated with them. Some see them as a pointless exercise in futility (you see what I did there), but no matter where you stand on the idea of ranking players, it makes for conversation. And this has been an offseason starved of honest-to-goodness basketball-related talking points.
So we set some guidelines and shortened the list down to 50. For one, all players had to have averaged 15 minutes of playing time last season. An arbitrary number, yes, but it kept things consistent.
And it’ll soon be evident (at least it was for us) that when ranking the worst, there really isn’t much of a formula. Arguments can be made for most of these players as the worst. We did our best to take context and potential into consideration, but this list is completely open-ended — that same open-endedness fuels the chaos, riles up emotion, and makes things fun.
There is no slick or clever intro for Brandon Rush. There is no humorous anecdote or delayed punchline. Take him as he is, or remain confounded that he isn’t more. In a few years, at his current rate of production – that, to his credit, hasn’t wavered, though it hasn’t exactly improved — he will be the best Rush in the Rush family. …I’m not exactly sure what that means anymore.First, the things that Brandon Rush does well. He is an excellent three-point shooter and isn’t shy about it. Each year, his percentages from behind the arc have improved, and he shoots 40% for his career. He is a good on-ball defender. Rush could probably ramp up the intensity from time to time to vault him into a more distinguished group, but he’s a fine defender as it stands.
But he’s not getting younger. He entered the league at 23, and now at the age of 26 with precious little to show in terms of improvement, he’ll traverse this plateau until his athleticism begins to diminish. The skills he displays currently would be invaluable to an elite team in need of a quality defender, and floor spacer. But his capabilities, especially on offense, are more multifaceted than his output. Much of it is stymied by his nonexistent ball handling skills, and everything else is neutralized by a lack of consistent effort.
The Pacers are moving on. Paul George is wish fulfillment and George Hill can do everything Rush can, but better. Brandon still has a chance somewhere, but he’ll have to act fast. – DC
39. Jonny Flynn PG, Houston Rockets
The maddening part of this exercise is that it’s inherently difficult to accurately assess the type of guy that plays 15 minutes a game. It’s easy to establish who’s an A+ player and who’s an F player, but differentiating between a D and a C-? That’s why scouts exist. Turning a C- guy into a B+ guy? That’s why coaches exist.
Jonny Flynn has proven in his two years as a pro that he is far from an A+ player. At times, he’s looked like an F player. As easy as it is to rip on David Kahn, though, I’m not ready to say that he picked a complete dud with the 6th pick in the 2009 draft.
The Flynn we saw at Syracuse had incredible quickness, a natural scoring ability, and that endearing little-guy confidence. The one in Minnesota, in the triangle, had… uh… quickness. When he was healthy. That’s about it.
Flynn could be higher on this list — I’m not going to print last season’s horrendous offensive numbers here and he was one of the worst defenders in the league — but as a Timberwolf he wasn’t at full health and was in the worst system possible. He is now on a team that has a track record of developing its guards and, while it’s going to be difficult to carve out playing time behind Kyle Lowry and Goran Dragic, there are raw materials here that are begging to be properly utilized. – JH
38. Darko Milicic C, Minnesota Timberwolves
I just spent the last half hour watching Darko Milicic clips on Synergy. I think I hate him now.
I don’t understand how Timberwolves fans can watch him shoot another lefty hook without resorting to violence. This is a man who shot 37.6% on post-up opportunities last year when he actually managed to catch and hold onto the ball. I’ve seen him heave a lefty hook from 15 feet away with his defender in perfect position and plenty of time on the shot clock. I’ve seen him turn down an open layup on the right side to go middle and miss a lefty hook over multiple defenders. It doesn’t matter what is happening around him, Darko’s mind is made up: lefty hook.
I want to know what’s going through Wesley Johnson’s head when he reposts Darko. He KNOWS the guy is going to turn left and haphazardly flip the ball toward the basket over three people. I want to know how David Kahn can honestly think we’re supposed to buy the “he picked up the triangle in two days” crap when his basketball IQ on offense has been low for his entire career. I want to know how Kahn can call him a great passer when he is such a black hole and how he can call him a “defensive presence” when he shows such poor understanding of team defensive principles. I want to get Kurt Rambis drunk and have him tell me what he really thinks of Darko.
Darko makes me angry because he’s not just another no-talent 7-footer. The few occasions when he busts out a counter-move in the post, it usually works. At his size, he should be a plus defender and he has the ability to move his feet on that end when he wants to. He just doesn’t do it. He doesn’t help you win. After eight seasons of this, I can’t even imagine Rubio redeeming him. – JH
37. Antawn Jamison PF, Cleveland Cavaliers
I feel like we’re letting the fine folks over at Cavs: The Blog down with this ranking. If you’ve perused the blog in any capacity, you wouldn’t be able to escape the constant eye-gouging that invariably occurs when Antawn Jamison’s name arises.
The most valuable thing about Jamison? His name (his contract). It’s still worth something. He’ll still be known as a scorer, and with his name alone, he might find his way onto a team in need of his lackluster service. This is how he made it onto the Cavs. The Cavs were in need of offensive support, and they went out and got it.
Jamison was suddenly in the crux of a golden opportunity. How was Jamison to know he’d be the marquee name of the franchise the season after? He was meant to be the bed of parsley to LeBron James’ suckling pig. …Actually, that’s enough defending Jamison. If I walked into a restaurant, and the chefs dropped the suckling pig on the floor and shamelessly served a bed of parsley as the main course, I’d be pissed off too.
I believe successful teams are built around defense and efficiency, especially when they don’t have a superstar. Jamison was not efficient, and his defense was an insult to all that man has achieved since the discovery of fire.
If Jamison does indeed stay with the team, my condolences to the fans. We can only read of your pain, Cleveland. We can’t feel it. – DC
36. DeShawn Stevenson SG, Dallas Mavericks (FA)
“There’s like 37 people that are acting like me on Facebook,” Stevenson said. “I mean, if you look at me and look at all these tattoos, do you think I’d be sitting on the Internet and typing? C’mon, man. Sometimes you’ve got to look at a person. I would not be in my house on a computer typing nothing about anybody.”
Via DeShawn Stevenson: ‘Let LeBron just chill’, 6/11/11
Sometimes you’ve got to NOT look at a person. This is challenging when the person in question has a president on his neck.
Unlike, say, J.R. Smith, Stevenson’s game has little in common with his personality and appearance. The dude says and does some crazy things, but on the court he’s basically a trash-talking Keith Bogans (more on him below). He’s a tough wing defender, he’ll make threes when open, and he won’t demand the ball. This was enough to earn him a championship ring, but I’m skeptical about it being enough to keep him in that rotation.
Usually a spot on a list of subpar rotation players would indicate that something has gone horribly wrong, but this is rather encouraging news for Stevenson. He was in a rotation last season, despite shooting 28% on threes the previous year and 31% the year before that whilst battling back injuries. He played well enough that he’ll get a new contract once this lockout is over. Good for him. – JH
35. James Jones SF, Miami Heat
The following is a conversation I had with myself.
Danny #1: Hey Danny! What are your thoughts on James Jones?
Danny #2: Well, to get the obvious stuff out of the way, he’s a great three-point shooter.
D1: Really great. Did you know he is tied for 28th all-time three-point shooting percentage?
D2: Yeah, I did know that because we’re the same person. He’s tied with other marksmen like Dell Curry, Allan Houston, and (surprisingly enough) Brandon Rush, whom you discussed five spots above.
D1: Yeah, he’s been a consistent shooter all of his life. What else can he do?
D2: *is quiet*
D1: Danny?
D2: He has long arms.
D1: …That’s a physical characteristic. What else can he do though?
D2: Did you know he’s tied with Allan Hou—
D1: Alright, nevermind. – DC
34. Keith Bogans SG, Chicago Bulls
It’s not your fault, Keith. You didn’t force Tom Thibodeau to start you all 98 of those games last season. You didn’t tell Jack Ramsay to vote for you as the Defensive Player of the Year. You didn’t ask to be a punchline. You just really, really should’ve settled in as somebody’s 3rd shooting guard by now.
Bogans proves that If you almost never dribble, shoot, draw fouls, rebound, or create shots for teammates, you can still have a place in the NBA. Above-average perimeter defense has value in this league, as does toughness. It’s just mind-boggling that it has added up to an average of 22 minutes a game over eight years. He’s had a remarkable run as a rotation guy, but you have to think it’ll end soon. – JH
33. Steve Blake PG, Los Angeles Lakers
Steve Blake must be glad that his first year with the Lakers is over. He struggled to adjust to the triangle, got chicken pox, and was swept out of the playoffs. This could not have been what he had in mind when he signed his four-year deal.
Looking at the numbers from last season, Blake’s three-point shooting was the lowest it’s been in four years and he turned the ball over at a rate higher than any of Jordan Farmar’s final three seasons as a Laker. His greatest value to the team was that he was superior to Derek Fisher on defense and, unlike the departed Farmar, he knew to get out of the stars’ way.
I’m sure Steve was the same guy he’d always been, but he did not assert himself and did not produce at the level that was expected of him. Perhaps Mike Brown’s offense will give him more responsibility and we’ll see a return to form next season. If not, then get ready to watch him spend 20 minutes a game mostly standing around. – JH
32. Jordan Hill F/C, Houston Rockets
I wonder if Jordan Hill is an awkward guy in person. He runs up and down the court like he’s stumbling, but when it’s time to call for the ball in the post, he’s moving around like a seasoned pro. …Then once gets the ball, it’s back to stumbling.
His offensive skills may not be fully developed, but that shouldn’t have been expected in the first place. What he does have is a halfway decent hook shot, and he has range out to about 15 feet. It’s a work in progress, and Houston might have the patience to see it through.
But he isn’t on this list for his passable offensive repertoire. He’s on here because his defense is atrocious. Any player with any semblance of a post move will get by Hill and score, and if you’re lucky, he’ll be clueless enough to foul you while you’re at it.
If this seems too high for such a young player, it might be. But the Rockets are now packed with young talent at the frontcourt positions, and I’m not sure Hill is leading the pack by any stretch. His offensive potential says he’s a rotation player for years to come. His defense (so far) laughs at that. It laughs so hard. – DC
