We’re a little worried about this lockout. We want basketball. But in case we don’t get basketball, we’re going to give ourselves a season.

The following is a work of fiction and no one was harmed in the writing of this story. These works will be based on how we think the 2011-12 season would play out if the lockout ended and the NBA is able to play all 82 games. Did you get a chance to read the first installment: Ray Allen’s Last Shot? As with that piece of fiction, we hope the lockout will be over soon and this piece of fiction will be the last.

LOS ANGELES Dec. 11 – It was a typical late-autumn Sunday morning in the Westwood area of Los Angeles. To visitors, the air was crisp and cool. To Los Angelenos, it was cold. The early morning mist from the Pacific still hung in the air, but the late-morning sun had started to burn through. It looked as if it were going to be a day worth enjoying. Many would go for a jog or enjoy brunch al fresco with friends. The most sensible people would sit back and let the day unfold, unplanned, before them. The people gathered here at Pauley Pavilion on UCLA’s campus were not sensible people.

We are sportswriters.

We were at Pauley for the Orlando Magic shootaround, which had been moved there because the NBA was staging one of those Clippers-Lakers day-night Sunday doubleheaders at STAPLES Center that try to make people in Los Angeles forget they don’t have an NFL team. The people who care about that sort of thing, that is.

Reporters from Orlando, Los Angeles and a couple of national scribes milled around, chatting and waiting for the Magic to finish going over defensive assignments to cover the Lakers’ new, non-triangle offense. The writers talked with the faint sound of bouncing basketballs, squeaking sneakers and the tornado-siren-like voice of Stan Van Gundy in the background. The audible activity on the court was muffled by a curtain which kept the observers separate from the performers.

Many of the writers hadn’t seen each other in a while. The complimented each other on each others’ recent articles, asked about each others’ families back home, mentioned Marriott points and reviewed Los Angeles restaurants. Having been in Utah and Phoenix, one Orlando writer said he was glad to be in L.A. so he could have his first decent meal of the trip.

“Where’d you go?” one writer asked.

“In-N-Out,” the Magic reporter said with a smile and both men nodded their heads.

Of course, this revelation initiated a discussion about the merits of In-N-Out vs. Five Guys, which had just opened its first franchise in Central Florida earlier this year. The conversation had just started to get good when a Magic PR flack poked his head around the curtain and motioned the media toward the court.

“To be continued …” one national writer said over his shoulder as the media marched in.

On first glance, what they saw was typical post-shootaround disorganization. A few players worked on free throws. End-of-the-bench big men worked on post moves with assistant coaches. Trainers wrapped knees in ice. The most curious sight, though, was Magic center Dwight Howard, sitting courtside with a towel wrapped around his neck and tucked into his long-sleeved shooting shirt. He was pointing at his throat, mouthing the word “No” and shaking his head whe Magic PR asked him a question.

Magic coach Stan Van Gundy, the coaching lifer, stood on the sideline at midcourt, with a bottle of water, half-gone, in his right hand. Van Gundy, whose salt-and-pepper mustache makes him look far more comic and far less glum than his brother, ESPN NBA analyst Jeff, prepared himself for the media crush. He folded his arms across his chest as if he were a disapproving father waiting at the door to greet the boy coming over to take out daddy’s little girl.

Van Gundy played the part perfectly. He harrumphed and scolded his way through his press conference as only he could. SVG knew why everyone in L.A. was rubbernecking his team. It wasn’t the Magic’s 9-10 record. This was the L.A. media’s first chance to ask about Howard, who has a player option at the end of the season. All signs point to Howard opting out of his deal and seeking employment elsewhere. One of those elsewheres could be with the Lakers, the Magic’s opponent that evening. Would the Magic trade Dwight, as the Nuggets did Carmelo Anthony to the Knicks the year before, to the Lakers in order to get something, anything in return for the three-time defending Defensive Player of the Year? It was only December and nearly every article about the Magic wondered whether Howard wasn’t long for Central Florida.

“Look, we haven’t had discussions about trading Dwight,” Van Gundy said, and reiterated many times during the 10-minute session. “We don’t want to trade Dwight. I know everyone would love to have Dwight on their team. But he plays for the Orlando Magic and as long as I’m coach of the Magic, I want Dwight Howard on our side.

“You can’t replace what he does for us. You just can’t. Why do you think everyone wants him on their team? He’s a unique talent in this league.”

Van Gundy wiped a bead of sweat with the back of his sleeve.

“You guys are the ones speculating in every article,” Van Gundy said as he looked down and shook his head. He shifted his weight from his right foot to his left and then back again as if he were playing defense. “‘Where’s he gonna go?’ ‘Who will we get in return.’”

One Los Angeles writer asked Van Gundy if he and Howard had conversations about Howard wanting out of Orlando.

“We … we don’t talk about that kind of stuff,” Van Gundy said. “I know a lot of you L.A. guys would like Dwight to play for the Lakers. He’s great to coach and fun to cover and he’s good for a good sound bite and a laugh, but he’s with us and will be with us hopefully for a long time.

“I know you have jobs to do and that’s the nature of the business these days is the business of basketball. You guys can have fun with that. You can play your games on TV and in the papers and on the blogs, Twitter or whatever.”

Van Gundy paused, then delivered the blow.

“Hell, you have to have something to write about or else you’d actually have to write about basketball.”

That comment stopped everything cold. The Magic beat writers were accustomed to such barbs about their knowledge of the game itself. They shook it off. But a couple of L.A. writers looked stunned as if Van Gundy reached out and smacked them across the face. One even ran his tongue gingerly over his lip as if he was searching for blood.

It was then a Magic media relations person stepped in. He had some news, bad news for the media. He said Howard wouldn’t speak at shootaround or before the game. Howard had, the PR guy offered, laryngitis.

The media looked at Van Gundy as if he needed to give an explanation. Layrngitis? Van Gundy looked back and shrugged his shoulders.

“All right,” Van Gundy sighed. “Anything else, guys?”

No one had anything else for Van Gundy, but Howard hadn’t moved from his spot on the sideline across the court. To his right, sat Magic point guard and friend, Jameer Nelson. On Howard’s left, another member of the Magic PR department. One brave media member started to make his way across the court. The rest of us followed and Nelson, Howard and the PR flack all looked at the mass moving toward them. The media manager’s eyes narrowed as if he were in a showdown on a dusty Western outpost and he was already at 10 paces. He started to rise off his seat, but Howard reached over and gently patted his arm. Howard nodded and Nelson covered his mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Uh, Dwight …” said the pioneer who started the media migration toward the Magic center.

Howard smiled, pointed to the towel around his neck and threw his hands, palms up, in a silent apology. The media guy glared.

We stood silently, uncomfortably in front of them. Then, Howard held up a finger and asked us for a moment. He leaned over and whispered something to Nelson, who shook his head yes.

“If you want to ask questions,” Nelson offered, “Dwight will answer, and I’ll translate.”

So this was a game. One Orlando writer rolled his eyes. One L.A. writer grunted. Were we game? Seems as if one of us was.

“Will you play tonight?”

Howard nodded his head. “Yes,” Nelson cheerfully responded.

“Are you disappointed with how the season has started for you guys?” was the question.

Howard pouted. Nelson said, “He’s sad.”

“Does it make you want to leave Orlando?”

Howard put two hands over his heart and swooned.

“He loves Orlando,” Nelson said. “Plus, he’d hate leaving me. We were rookies together.”

“How are you and Stan getting along?”

Howard gave two thumbs up and smiled. “Great!” Nelson chirped.

“Have you asked for a trade?”

Howard tilted his head and furrowed his brow.

“C’mon, man,” Nelson said in a tone that implied that not only was Howard not going to dignify the answer with a response, but that it was a stupid question.

Howard then held up two fingers. Nelson said, “Two words.” Howard tugged at Nelson’s sleeve and glared, but smiled while he did it.

“Sorry,” Nelson said. “Two questions.”

“If the Magic continues to slide this season, will you ask for a trade?”

Howard scowled and shook his head. He flexed his biceps and then held out his hand like a traffic cop.

“We’re not going to keep losing,” Nelson said as Howard’s proxy. “We’re going to get it together. I’m going to stay strong and stop this nonsense.”

Howard held up one finger and then made the cut sign. It’s lucky that he did. The last questioner seemed emboldened by the finality of the media session. The last question was a doozy.

“Are you worried that if you come to the Lakers, you’ll be compared to Shaquille O’Neal, that you’ll be following in his footsteps and that you could be seen as being in his shadow if you don’t win a title here? Shaq has been highly critical of you in the past.”

Howard’s jaw dropped and his smile faded. Nelson started to speak, but Howard clamped his hand around Nelson’s wrist. He turned and put up both hands as if to say, “I got this.” Howard cleared his throat and spoke his only words of the interview.

“I’m not answering the L.A. question,” Howard mumbled, “but I love Shaq.”

Moments after the Magic suffered a 110-104 loss to the Lakers — Howard had 21 points, 14 boards and five blocked shots — to drop their record to 9-11, the whole Howard pre-game interview (he did not speak postgame) ran on NBA TV. Shaq, who was making a rare Sunday night appearance in the studio, was asked to comment.

“He doesn’t even mumble as good as me,” Shaq mumbled.

This video is the product of my late-night boredom. It’s a little odd, but I think it makes a point in its own way. Other than that, I’m not sure how to introduce it.

Mr. NBA Lockout talks to an unsuspecting Brian about his recent troubles:

Photo by mpclemens on Flickr

The NBA officially released its preseason schedule today, complete with a press release sent out to the media. The first games would be Oct. 9 and there would be 114 preseason games total, including Israel’s Maccabi Haifa playing a friendly against the Magic in Orlando on Oct. 23.

None of this is going to happen. The lockout will strangle it all.

via Pro Basketball Talk: Exercise in futility: NBA releases preseason schedule 

Though this development would usually be viewed as somewhat exciting by basketball-deprived NBA fans, little excitement was felt as the NBA released the schedule for a preseason that will almost surely never happen. Take away an ever-present lockout, and this is just a semi-eventful blip on the sports radar. Instead, it serves as more of a harsh reminder that we likely won’t see the games advertised today by the NBA. If this was the best news you heard all day, you were probably hanging out near the New York Stock Exchange.

When I first read this report, I actually laughed. It wasn’t the kind of joyful laugh one might emit at the sight of a cat yawning or Paul Rudd doing basically anything. It was the kind of bitter, harsh laugh you might give after stubbing your toe or watching as a tree slowly fell down onto your car. I thought about fans who might think something like, “Oh, I wonder who my team is going to play in preseason. I hope they play the Heat. That’ll make preseason sort of interesting. It’ll be fun to see how our recently drafted rookie(s) play. I have high hopes for our team this year. This year is a OH WAIT, THERE’S A LOCKOUT HAPPENING AND WE WON’T HAVE A PRESEASON!”, and that saddened me.

It’s interesting to see the NBA following the normal offseason timeline (other than canceling Summer League, though the lockout was not directly claimed as the reason for the cancellation) as if things in the sport are progressing as usual.  They release a supposed schedule for a preseason that begins less than two months from now, while reportedly not planning on beginning CBA negotiations until early September. It’s still relatively early in the negotiating process (right now we seem to be in “Dear media, we’re totally right about basically everything!” stage with both sides), but it’s discouraging to glance at the regular timeline in comparison to the realistic version of how things will progress this year.

We might not have a preseason, and that’s regrettable. If nothing else, it’s often a chance to see how the back of a rotation will sort out (for many teams), and how rookies will acclimate to the NBA style. Instead of celebrating the upcoming return of some form of NBA games, we’re forced to view the NBA’s release with a cynical eye and doubt in our hearts. That’s life in the world of the NBA lockout. Every news story is reflected by the lockout mirror, and that isn’t about to change in the near future.

 

Photo from mace_windu777 via Flickr

“He could do everything. He had the skills of Larry Bird and Pete Maravich. He had the athleticism of Kareem, and he could shoot the 3-point shot. He could pass and run the floor, dribble. We should have carried out a plan in the early 1980s to kidnap him and bring him back right then.”

via Jonathan Abrams on the long, strange trip of Arvydas Sabonis – Grantland

Basketball offers us a rare opportunity to witness unique combinations of size, athleticism and grace. Usain Bolt can run faster than any human ever, Nadia Comăneci scored multiple perfect 10.0s as a 14 year old gymnast, and Andre The Giant was, well, a giant; but single-category dominance, magnificent as it is, is never as impressive as the guy who can finish at or near the top in absolutely everything. And while many different sports require wide-ranged skill sets, basketball is different in that its very core, it asks its participants to be both abnormally large and abnormally mobile.

It’s hard to be more abnormally large than Arvydas Sabonis. Standing 7’3” tall and approaching 300 pounds, the recently-inducted Hall of Famer offered virtually unprecedented attributes in the realms of intimidation, especially considering his vehemently Soviet appearance bursting onto the international basketball scene during the eventual fading of the Communist block.

Sadly, very few of us have seen Sabonis as an abnormally mobile entity as well. Arvydas only crossed the Atlantic barrier in 1995, a 30 year old man with lower extremities in such severe shape that one wonders if he would have had more NBA success without legs at all. The what if game is always a problematic one to play, especially with guys who dominated in Europe – Dejan Bodiroga and Sarunas Jasikevicius are two of the best European basketball players this decade; Bodiroga never found the necessary urgency to make the NBA jump and retired with no American basketball under his belt, while Saras tanked so badly in the United States that he is perhaps best remembered as a towel-waving extraordinaire on the We Believe Warriors; and yet their legend remains, even if it is accompanied with a “Euroleague only” asterisk.

But with Sabonis, the question is far more frightening, because this man truly did know how to do things that nobody else ever knew how to do. Back when the wheels were still on, he was a super-athletic mountain of a man with once-in-a-generation passing skills and unlimited shooting range. You don’t have to be a professional scout to realize that this is the sort of package that usually translates well to basketball games. When Sabonis’s body denied him the chance to compete against the best basketball players in the world when he could still make the physical claim to be one of them, it also denied us the ability to watch a guy who, for all we know, may have been the best ever. One only has to watch grainy Youtube clips of a still youthful Sabonis desecrating what used to be a pure David Robinson to file this claim under “huh, maybe, there really is no way to tell” instead of the much more frequently used “quit the hyperbole” folder. 

But the Sabonis I remember was a very different version – that of 2003-2004. The big man came back to his hometown club of Zalgiris Kaunas, with which he started his career back in 1981, and which he owns in the current day (in case any of you ever dreamed about Arvydas Sabonis owning a team that employs Sonny Weems and Ty Lawson, well, your day has arrived). Sabonis was approaching 40 years old at this point, and once couldn’t help but feel sorry for a man who clearly loves playing basketball, and yet plays with a limp that made his Portland days seem as smooth and athletic as George Gervin.

And yet, it didn’t matter. The big guy would lumber slowly up the court, his teammates holding the action until he arrived unless a unique fast break opportunity presented itself. If indeed the half court game was to be applied, Sabas would plant himself on the free throw line, declining to continue this painful and unnecessary act of movement, and run the offense like an omniscient totem poll. Slowly, methodically, and yet, somehow incredibly efficient. Assists and hockey assists piled up by the bundle, greasing the wheels of a squad that had no business competing at the level that it did, with Sabonis running it all without actually running, or walking, or displaying any capabilities of movement, occasionally slipping outside of his predetermined position just to show that he could still make 3s without bending his knees to jump, or slowly barrelling into the paint with a long arm ready for an offensive board. A similar story presented itself on defense – barely moving, somehow dominant, those long arms compensating for the lack of mobility by reaching wherever they needed to block a shot, the tired old legs rendered irrelevant by a brilliant basketball mind that knew where it needed to be and somehow managed to be there even if it was physically incapable of the short journey.

Zalgiris came within a miraculous Derrick Sharp 3 pointer of the Euroleague Final 4 that year, and Sabonis was selected to the all-Euroleague first team, but this is all completely irrelevant. So were his stats from that season, stats that I intentionally didn’t look up while writing this piece. Despite the NBA blogosphere’s righteous fight against the ever-ignorant “WATCH THE GAMEZ!!!!11” branch of basketball analysis, this was needed to be seen to grasp the full magnitude of it, a broken down shell of an athlete dominating at his craft just by knowing everything that needed to be known. It remains the most impressive athletic achievement I can remember (not saying much), and it came almost 20 years after Sabonis’ best efforts left him. At the very least, we can know that Sabonis didn’t need a what-if to be remembered as a different breed of an athlete.

Photo by Charley Lhasa on Flickr

James Herbert and I are working together again. And again, we’re digging into some bad players. Check out our first collaboration on HP here.

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.

Inspired by Top 100 lists created by Zach Lowe over at Sports Illustrated’s The Point Forward and the trio running CBSSports’ Eye-On-Basketball, we decided to run in the opposite direction. What if we ranked the worst players? We started out with 100 names, and yes, there are some terrible players in the NBA, but the list was extremely irrelevant.

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.

This list was assembled using our varying degrees of knowledge of basic and advanced statistics, Synergy, and a steady flow of argumentation. We don’t claim this ranking to be definitive by any stretch, and there will be plenty of disagreements.

We’re not inherently mean people, and we may have developed a bit of Stockholm Syndrome while writing about some of these players. Somewhere in the process, we found ourselves defending players we never knew we cared about. Hopefully this will inspire a similar response for you.

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.

EDIT: If it wasn’t clear, we’re going backwards, leading up to the No. 1 worst rotation player. 

So let’s get started.

50. James Johnson
F, Toronto Raptors

I’m feeling a little guilty here. I’m an unabashed James Johnson fan. Have been since his Wake Forest days.

Sometime during his rookie season in Chicago, I began calling Johnson “LeBron James in a coma.” I’m not quite sure if I meant a food coma or an actual coma, but it’s easy to imagine Johnson playing a role similar to LeBron if LeBron’s entire body was numb from the head down. He’s capable of initiating a fast break by himself with solid rebounding ability, adept ball handling for his size, and good vision. And it all looks great when he’s not making the wrong decision. (He greatly overstates his abilities in this area.)

He’s a hardworking defender capable of chasing smaller guys around screens with his length, size, and leaping ability. But it’s against bigger power forwards and centers where he’s awful. Getting better/more familiar with his opponent’s hesitations, fakes, and spins will help, though it’s clear that playing the power positions isn’t quite in his element.

Johnson only played 25 games for the Raptors. It’s too small of a sample size to cash in on his promising talent right now. He does have glaring weaknesses in his game that need to be addressed (his jump shot, improving his post-up defense) but chances are, this ranking will look foolish in the near future. – DC

49. Brendan Haywood
C, Dallas Mavericks 

With about a quarter of the season in the books, Brendan Haywood doesn’t seem to care. He sometimes defends like he gives a damn, but his total effort? Particularly on the boards? It’s outright distressing, if not depressing.

via Money Conquers All | The Two Man Game, 12/09/10

I’d add “infuriating” to those two adjectives. God, watching Brendan Haywood for most of last season made me crazy. When people spout off about NBA players only caring about money and taking it easy after getting paid, it bugs me. The few players who give them ammunition bug me even more.

Up until mid-February, Haywood was clearly a different player than the one the Mavs paid for. This player was rarely engaged defensively and couldn’t even hit 40% of his free throws. Maybe  he was secretly nursing an injury. Maybe he had some personal issues distracting him. Maybe he just didn’t adjust well to being a backup. Maybe it wasn’t just laziness… but it sure looked like laziness.

Still, Haywood performed admirably for the last couple of months of the regular season and his defense was a key part of their championship run before he was sidelined by a hip injury, making way for an unforgettable 11 minutes of Ian Mahinmi in Game 6 of the Finals. Based on the way he turned his awful season around, I think there’s a good chance he’s off this list a year from now. – JH

48. Andris Biedrins
C, Golden State Warriors
At age 22, Andris Biedrins averaged 11.9 points and 11.2 rebounds a game. He was too skinny to defend post-up players, but he did everything else big men had to do and had an excellent motor. If you watched him for a few possessions, battling against stronger players and finishing with ease, it was easy to overlook his grotesque free throw stroke.

Now, at 25, he is coming off a season where he registered a PER of 12.1 in 59 games. A season where his team performed significantly worse at both ends with him on the court. We hoped he would bounce back after his disappointing 33-game campaign the year before, but he didn’t. We hoped the departure of Don Nelson would end his confidence issues, but it didn’t.

If we’re going by recent performance, Biedrins should be way, way higher on this list. He’s not scaring anyone on defense and, in addition to not having any offensive game away from the rim, he’s afraid of being sent to the foul line. He remains near the bottom of these rankings because it’s possible that his fall from grace has been more about injuries than anything else. According to Golden State GM Larry Riley, he’s excited about the game and healthy again. Perhaps this means next season he can play with the energy he used to. If Tyson Chandler can return to form at 28, Biedrins can at 25, right? …Right? — JH

47. Shawne Williams
F, New York Knicks
Shawne Williams was awesome in the first half of 2010-11. Really awesome. Shooting 47.5% for more than three months is nothing short of divine. Then Carmelo came, and a band of comrades went. And the spirit of Seven Seconds Or Less was lost. Williams wasn’t the same after. (And yet he still managed to finish the season shooting a tick above 40% from beyond the arc.)

Williams was offered a chance in New York, and tried his hardest not to disappoint. He was unwisely thrown into a gauntlet of defending players much bigger than himself, though surely more out of necessity than choice. As such, Williams was a horrid defender, though we give him credit for trying.

With SSOL MIA (LOL, WTF), Williams’ shooting numbers will fall even further down to earth next year. And that’s bad. Because outside of spot up situations and buckets in transition, Williams is a non-factor on offense.

The steep decline in production and effectiveness in the second half of the season is troubling. If it is indeed a result of the systemic changes in the Knicks offense due to Carmelo/Chauncey Billups’ arrival, then we could be looking at a miserable player come next season. – DC

46. Randy Foye
G, Los Angeles Clippers
Randy Foye is better than Willie Green for two reasons:

1. He isn’t Willie Green.
2. He shows a faint inkling of knowledge in team management.

Randy Foye is basically Willie Green, and this makes me horribly depressed because:

1. They are both stout high-volume, low-efficiency gunners.
2. And I hate players like that.
3. …And it’s not like Foye has that much brighter of a future than Green. He’s only two years younger.
4. Think about that for a second. Two years separate these guys. It feels like Willie Green has been torturing us for ages.

His breakout season in 08-09 was notable because, seemingly out of nowhere, Green shot the three ball beautifully at 38.9% on 3.2 attempts a game. His shot has since abandoned him. Without that accuracy from beyond the arc, he has even less to mitigate the inherent downsides of tweenerdom.

He’s not one of the worst, and that’s why he isn’t on the actual list. But for a player who was once thought to be Kevin Durant’s sidekick in Oklahoma City, the lack of progress and lackluster production is a bit saddening. Jeff Green isn’t a game-changer. Though, as we’ve learned from the Thunder’s success, getting rid of him is. – DC

Nate Robinson
G, Oklahoma City Thunder

via Twitter:
#Word2BigBird shout out to @ZachLowe_SI Lol its time 2get 2009 Nate back http://bit.ly/qeWKHt #WorDaApP –JH

(That isn’t a real tweet.) 

Photo by generalstussner on Flickr

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.

Previously on The Lost Season: Boris Diaw, 05-06, Bobby Simmons, 04-05, and the Seattle Supersonics, 04-05.

This edition is a history lesson painstakingly assembled and taught by Emile Avanessian, author of the terrific blog, Hardwood Hype. It’s on Spencer Haywood and his remarkable 96-70 ABA season. Enjoy.

–

Sadly, the series came to an ugly end. With the game out of hand, Haywood dished out a love tap to Rick Barry after Barry had taken a hard intentional foul on Rockets’ guard Jeff Congdon. Barry and Haywood proceeded to lob, respectively, a ball and a punch at one another’s heads. Haywood was ejected, though this hardly put an end to the violence. In what can only be described as a prequel to Kermit Washington’s ill-fated blow to Rudy T’s head nearly seven years later, Rocket guard Lonnie Wright then clocked Barry with a blind-side punch, after which a number of fans rushed the floor — with one taking a shot at Barry, as he was on the floor getting attention from a trainer.

In the second round, the Rockets met up with Haywood’s regular season whipping boys, the L.A. Stars. The Rockets won the series opener- the first nationally televised pro basketball to ever take place in Denver — at home by 10 points, further cementing the notion that the heavy favorites would walk away with the series.

After that, however, the Finals-bound Stars, behind the excellent play of George Stone and Mack Calvin (23+ per game in the postseason, up from 16 and 16.8, respectively, in the regular season) and 17-15 from Craig Raymond, won four straight to complete the “gentleman’s sweep.” In the nip-and-tuck series finale (the second nationally televised game from Denver), the Stars’ took a 109-107 lead with 16 seconds left, and wound up winning the game with that score when Congdon missed a potential game-tying jumper.

Haywood’s dominant play carried over into the postseason. In 12 games, he averaged 36.7 points (with 20 more made field goals than any other player) and 19.8 rebounds, with a 26.6 PER. Despite its disappointing conclusion, Haywood’s spectacular rookie season instilled some serious optimism within the Rockets’ fans. Sadly, this optimism was short-lived.

Heading into the 1970-71 season, Haywood took part in a pair of preseason exhibition games — scoring 40+ points in each — before leaving the team over a contract dispute. Upset that a significant chunk of his salary was deferred, Haywood held out in hopes that the Rockets would agree to restructure his contract. The team refused to acquiesce to his demands, itself holding out in the hope that he would return. With most of the 1970-71 season in the books, and in the face of several lawsuits filed by the Rockets, Haywood forced a move to the NBA’s Seattle Supersonics, with whom he played 33 games in the spring of 1971.

Sadly, the marriage between pro basketball’s original underclassman and the Denver Rockets, seemingly consummated in heaven, unraveled in very short order. An ABA title eluded the team, while after an acrimonious split, while Haywood spent the dozen-year balance of his career as something of an NBA nomad. While he would never again reach those heights, in one lost season for the ages, Spencer Haywood earned his spot atop the world of professional basketball.

P.S.- the answers to the impromptu quiz?

Top three career scoring averages in ABA history?  

Photo by sea turtle from Flickr

 To decide which players to rank, we started with every player who played in the league last season, and then eliminated players who had signed overseas contracts that made them ineligible for the 2011-12 NBA season. Then we added the 60 members of the 2011 draft class, eliminating those not likely to play in the NBA by 2012. That left 500 players, according to our best information as of August 15.

via ESPN NBA: Ranking every NBA player: 401-500

As I previously mentioned, Twitter basically blew up yesterday, with almost everyone adding in their two cents over where players should be ranked. Well, as a voter (that came off the wrong way), it was tough for me to sort through the garbage players (no offense) and decide who deserved 0s, 1s, 2s and 3s. Some players I hadn’t heard of (some expert, I know), some I didn’t know enough about, and some I thought were plain terrible. That’s were bias (and outside factors) come in.

Everybody has their own personal biases towards players. Zach Harper LOVES Kyle Lowry. Danny Chau is obsessed with Terrico White (and Qytnel Woods). Almost every single Laker fan thinks Kobe Bryant is God (other than the Forum Blue & Gold crew, of course). Idiosyncrasies bring players to life and make them seem cooler, which is why I made a few lists of such, dividing certain players into groups (possibly explaining their high/low ranking). Here we go.

He Has A Cool Name So We’ll Put Him Higher:

#409. Lazar Hayward, #412. Ben Uzoh, #414. Pops Mensah-Bonsu, #416. Alexis Ajinca, #458. E’Twaun Moore (not be confused with Matt), #468. Zabian Dowdell, #474. Magnum Rolle

The Sob Story:

#401. Da’Sean Butler, #402. Sundiata Gaines, #442. Jimmy Butler, #466. Sean Marks (he’s white, always laughs, etc.)

Overweight, Obese or Fat?:

#420. Jarron Collins (a little pudgy), #492. Garrett Siler (listed at 305 lbs.), #493. Eddy Curry (reportedly down to 300 lbs., but was up over 350 lb. for a long period of time)

Half Of The Washington Wizards Team:

#435. Kevin Seraphin, #450. Othyus Jeffers, #469. Shelvin Mack, #482. Larry Owens, #486. Hamady N’Diaye, #496. Lester Hudson

That Guy:

#404. Luke Babbitt, #425. Cole Aldrich, #428. Bobby Simmons, #440. Iman Shumpert, #453. Brian Skinner, #456. Malik Allen, #470. Hassan Whiteside, #471. Andy Rautins, #472. Terrico White, #491. Josh Harellson, #500. Lavoy Allen

Underrated Or Underpaid?:

#405. Manny Harris, #419. Armon Johnson, #449. Brian Scalabrine, #493. Eddy Curry (we split up half of his body into two categories because we couldn’t fit him in one; he’s not this bad)

The Most Overrated Player Thus Far:

#408. Joey Graham — (Are you kidding me? Name me 10 current NBA players he’s better than. You can’t. I didn’t want to have to cross this line, but I’m gonna have to…. He’s Mike Bibby-level bad. There I said it.)

Photo by donovanbeeson on Flickr

ESPN.com and the TrueHoop Network are ranking every NBA player — and counting them down on Twitter (@NBAonESPN), from No. 500 to No. 1. As the rankings are announced, you can also find them here on the pages of ESPN.com.

via ESPN NBA: Ranking every NBA player: 401-500

I may be naive, but I honestly thought Twitter was going to blow up yesterday. No, Gilbert Arenas wasn’t giving away 1,000 free pairs of Jordans. And no, LeBron James wasn’t announcing his decision of whether or not to go and play overseas. ESPN.com — you know that site that HP is affiliated to — revealed its upcoming project, a ranking system of the top 500 NBA players (the first — err last — hundred players were announced yesterday). Using the hastag #NBArank, one could follow ESPN NBA’s tweets and join in on the conversation that seemingly took over Twitter.

Naturally, as with any ranking system, everyone had an opinion and no one seemed to agree. Some argued over Jarron and Jason Collins (who originally appeared on the list as Jarron twice). Others debated over why Mike Bibby wasn’t in the bottom 100 (I’m looking at you Adam and Zach). Eddy Curry’s body weight was analyzed (over or under 493?!?!). People even argued over Lavoy Allen (ok, I’m making this up), the 500th ranked player by a decent margin.

But honestly, in the grand scheme of things, we haven’t even gotten to the real meat and guts (the players in the top-100; better known as those who matter). We’re arguing over some players that aren’t even on NBA rosters (hey, at least Maurice Ager can rap!). HoopSpeak’s Beckley Mason best summed it up with this tweet:

Does it really matter where Ike Diogu is ranked? (we’ll get to this later) What about Brian Scalabrine, a fellow Trojan and one of the best towel-wavers in NBA history, being ranked behind players not in the NBA? No, it doesn’t. But that’s the beauty of this basketball community. We care about the little things; they mean something to us. No matter how many “bad” movies Zach Harper tweets about, or how many eccentric ideas Ethan Sherwood Strauss comes up with, we are all bound together by our common passion for this orange (brown?) ball.

Basketball is as intricate and detail-ortiented of a sport as they come, and those who follow the game analyze its every move in the same (outrageous) manner. In the coming weeks (as we near the top-10), I’ll grow apprehensive to check my Twitter page, fearful of the disproportional volatility these rankings will cause. But like any addict, I’ll be coming back for more. And more. That’s the beauty of this game and its patrons; the simple things.

I can’t wait to see how Laker fans react when Kobe isn’t ranked #1.

Image by drcornelius from Flikr

Sanders will inducted into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame as a Contributor by the Veteran’s Committee, though it’s quite possible that his contributions as a defensive stopper on eight NBA title teams from 1961 to 1969 probably played a role in that as well.

Via “Satch Sanders Inducted Into Hall Of Fame” by Scott Schroeder

With the induction of Tom “Satch” Sanders, the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame continues its torrid love affair with the Boston Celtics organization. Satch is the 33^rdmember of the Celtic franchise to be inducted. I’ve not taken the time to research which organization is second, but they are likely far behind biting the dust whipped up by the stampede of Celtics being rushed to the Hall.

Even more incredibly with Sanders’s induction, the entire playoff 10-man rotation of the 1962-63 Celtics has now been inducted. Yes, you read that right. Tom Heinsohn, Sam Jones, Bill Russell, Bob Cousy, John Havlicek, Frank Ramsey, K.C. Jones, Cyde Lovellette and now Satch. In retrospect, the Los Angeles Lakers were fortunate to get 6 games against this Hall of Fame behemoth and the Cincinnati Royals were positively blessed from the Lord above to square off 7 times against Boston. Yes, this 10-man rotation of unbridled talent was… wait a minute.

[counts the number of inductees: 1)Tommy Points Heinsohn, 2) Sam Jones, 3) Bill Russell, 4)Houdini Cousy, 5) Hondo 6) Frank Ramsey, 7) K.C., 8) Clyde Lovellette, 9) Satch]

Well, nine is not ten (unless a mustachioed INgSOC commandant orders it so) and that means the Hall of Fame has neglected to induct the last member of Boston’s 10-man rotation: Jim Loscutoff. Poor guy. The 50 year championship reunion in 2013 is going to be exceedingly awkward with everyone else having neat, spiffy HoF jackets and Loscutoff in a corner brooding, secretly plotting to “accidentally” spill coffee on a coat or plant moths in their closets.

Actually, that may be cutting Loscutoff short on his deviousness. During his playing days he was known as the Hatchet Man. Gary Paulsen fans may get a kick out of that, but it was clearly not a picnic for opposing players to face off with “Loscy”. In any event, Loscy spent his whole career with Boston winning 7 championships. Unlike the Naismith Hall of Fame, the Celtics have done right by Loscutoff, retiring his #18… wait a minute.

#18 is retired by Boston but it’s for Dave Cowens, the stellar 70s MVP center. Loscutoff is again the odd man out. Apparently, the Celtics franchise copped out in honoring Loscy by retiring his nickname. Yes, a banner reading “Loscy” is what hangs in the TD Garden rafters. Seriously, cop out. Like the threat of any other player having that nickname would necessitate its retirement. They should have retired his #18 or at least the “Hatchet Man” moniker. Now that banner would draw genuine, piqued interest from young fans wondering who the legendary “Hatchet Man” was. Instead you’ll get sarcastic pondering like “’Loscy’? What kind of name is that?”

All Loscutoff has to show for his Celtics tenure is a measly 7 championship rings while everyone else prances around in spiffy HoF sports coats, plays powerpoint presentations of their inductions and revel in knowing no one else will wear their jersey number.

This song’s for you, Loscy.

Photo from bandofballers.com

…Sweet Lou, sweet as in cool jazz put down by a lightly plucked bass and the hushed swirling of brushes around a drumhead. His skin is the color of light coffee, his features regular and smooth, his temperament equable. His game is heavy on the sugar: there is a gentle rhythm to his constant motion on offense and a classic softness in his jump shot, of which there is none prettier.

Via “He’s Shooting the Works” by Peter Carry

Years Active: 1967-1979

Career Stats: 20.2 ppg, 2.7 apg, 4.4 rpg, 1.4 spg, 49% FG, 80% FT

Accolades: All-NBA 2nd Team (1970), 6x All-Star (1969-74), All-Rookie 1st Team (1967)

Cool Jazz: Lou Hudson was indeed a cool character on the court. His seeming lack of flair is probably to blame for his footnote status in NBA history. To boot, he spent the bulk of his playing days in the cold outer reaches of the basketball universe. First was his collegiate stint at the University of Minnesota under coach John Kundla, who won several titles as coach of the Minneapolis Lakers in the NBA, but achieved little with the Golden Gophers. Second, Hudson was drafted a lofty #4 by the St. Louis Hawks in 1966 after averaging a 20-and-8 with a broken wrist during his senior year at Minnesota.

As you may know, the Hawks are no longer in St. Louis, so any potential myth/narrative/memory of Hudson carrying on the torch lit by Bob Pettit, Ed Macauley & co. was squashed. Third, those Hawks moved to Atlanta in 1968, a city notorious for its fair-weather attitude toward professional sports. However, like a cool, swinging jazz bass, you may not consciously notice Hudson was expertly plying his craft, but just like that bass once you are awakened to Lou’s presence, you deeply dig the groove.

Regular, Smooth, Equable: “Super Lou” spent 13 seasons in the NBA, 11 of which came with the Hawks. Along with Pettit and Dominique Wilkins, he forms the troika of legendary Hawks. Indeed, they are the only ones to have their jerseys retired by the franchise and they all hold the franchise record for points in a single game (57). Hudson also scored the 1st points in Atlanta Hawks history, truly a harbinger of his stay in Georgia. For 7 straight seasons, Hudson averaged at least 22 points a game including five in a row of 25+. The only blips in his steady play came from Uncle Sam drafting him into the army in 1967 allowing Hudson to play in only 48 games that season and then an elbow injury suffered in 1974-75 limiting him to 11 games.

Heavy on the Sugar: “Sweet Lou” got to those prodigious scoring numbers by relying on a jump shot as saccharine as any before or since. He was not a high-flyer, a wizard with the ball, or a bruiser down low. He would just kill you softly with that jumper while his cohorts, Walt Bellamy, Paul Silas and Bill Bridges would punish you down low. The 1st phase of Hudson’s Hawkdom culminated in 1970 when he averaged a healthy 25 points on a blistering 53% shooting. He was named an All-Star starter and to the All-NBA 2nd Team that season. The Hawks as a team also reached its apex losing to the Lakers in the Western Conference Finals. This was the true death of the Hawks’ St. Louis character. The roster would be overhauled, coaches changed and conferences switched during the next two seasons.

Constant Motion: In 1971, on board came Pete Maravich and in 1972 coach Cotton Fitzsimmons. The Hawks made the playoffs both years with a mediocre 36 wins each time, but Cotton was on to an offensive scheme from heaven. “Pistol Pete” was given free reign to wheel and deal, so long as he sought out “Super Lou” who was to ceaselessly move without the ball: cutting to the hoop, dashing around screens, being Reggie Miller before there was Reggie Miller. Their synchronicity was ridiculously productive. In 1973, they became only the 2nd pair of teammates to score 2,000 points a piece for a season. That ’73 season, with Walt Bellamy the only interior holdover, the Hawks put together a strong season of 46 wins and were finally legit playoff participants. Such was their luck that they faced off with the Boston Celtics (the most forgotten about 68-win team ever) that postseason.

Hudson played his heart out averaging nearly 30 points and 8 rebounds but Boston triumphed in 6 games. This proved to be the highlight of the Hawks sudden resurgence. The team regressed to 35 wins in 1974, Maravich was traded in ’75 and Lou went down with his elbow injury that same year. As the Hawks sank ever deeper, Sweet Lou at the age of 32 was traded to the Lakers for the 1977-78 season. Two relatively productive seasons as a reserve were followed by retirement in 1979. Maybe hanging around for one more season and getting a ring with the 1980 Lakers would have salvaged a bit more of a popular legacy for Hudson, but really, what else was left for Sweet Lou to prove?