Photo by NBA PHOTOS/NBAE via Getty Images

“The return of Tiny Archibald has been of great help, but the biggest factor in the Kings’ surge has been the emergence of the 6’10″, 230-pound Lacey as one of the NBA’s better centers. Heading into the All-Star game, where he was to play behind Abdul-Jabbar and Lanier, Lacey was leading the league in minutes played, in assists for a center and in defensive rebounds. Still, for some reason, people find it hard to admit that the four-year veteran is really that good.”

Via “No Slowdown in Detroit” by Pat Putnam

Years Active: 1971 – 1983

Career Stats: 10.3 ppg, 9.7 rpg, 3.7 apg, 1.5 bpg, 1.3 spg, 44% FG, 74% FT

Accolades: All-Star (1975)

As you can judge from his accolades and the Pat Putnam quote, 1975 was indeed the only year people admitted Sam Lacy was really that good. His always solid, at-times stellar all-around play largely went unrecognized during the 1970s. Or whatever positives he brought to the game were glossed over with the veneer of what he couldn’t do. To be sure, there were things Sam couldn’t do. He wasn’t the most refined of scorers. Only three times in his 13 year career did Sam manage shooting 47% from the field. Three was also the number of times his points per game peaked above 13. Not eye-popping numbers to hang your hat on, hence Sam’s relative anonymity even during the 1970s.

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Canada came so close — one spot away — from earning a ticket to next summer’s final Olympic qualifier. They finished sixth, when a fifth-place spot was needed to move on.

Via “Thanks a lot, Nash!” by Steve Buffery

The FIBA Americas tournament has been ongoing for about a week-and-a-half and has been somewhat painful to watch, to be honest.* Brazil, Argentina and the Dominican Republic entertain no matter the competition, but all the other teams are a situational watch. Except for Team Canada. As a Canadian at heart, I thrillingly got to see the Canadian national team play some hard-fought games, but in the end it was not enough to emerge from the Americas and proceed to the Olympic qualifiers next year.

Now unlike the Toronto Sun’s Buffery, I won’t burst into a diatribe over why Steve Nash should be to blame for this failure. Instead, I will hearten my Canuck affinities by focusing on the out-of-nowhere great play of Kelly Olynyk. Now, when I say “out of nowhere” I mean just for myself. I don’t follow college hoops too much, so Olynyk’s play at Gonzaga was a complete mystery to me. My introduction came when I caught the Argentina-Canada match earlier in the week.

Canada went down, unsurprisingly, to the more talented Argentine squad, but Kelly was there mixing it up as Canada’s big man of the future. For now though, he remains unrefined. But that raw skill still managed 19 points and 12 rebounds against Argentina’s stable of big men including Fabricio Oberto and Luis Scola. Ok, so the awe has to be tempered when considering that Scola and Oberto aren’t exactly all-world defenders and that someone from Canada had to score and rebound, but it was Olynyk and not Joel Anthony who stepped up to the plate.

Olynyk’s play aside, there wasn’t a whole lot to hang Canada’s toque on during the Argentina game. The rebounding was poor, the defense worse and the shooting off-target. Heartbreaking losses to Puerto Rico and, especially, Panama sunk Canada’s chances after an upset victory over the D.R. earlier in the tournament. There is little for Canadians everywhere to do except lick the wounds, pull up the snow boots and move on from Steve Nash (in the case of Buffery). Steve is old and with the chance of him ever participating again in international play effectively obliterated Team Canada can set its sights firmly on developing new talent and wait for Matt Bonner to get his citizenship.

Personally, I await for another day like August 14, 1936 when Canada and the United States squared off for Olympic basketball gold. Unlike the 1936 game though, I hope it isn’t played on an outdoor court in the rain that eventually turns the surface into mud. Hence the 19-8 final. On that future date, I shall root against my citizenship (America) and for my heart (Canada). But there’s a lot of work to be done for that to happen. Let’s get to it, Canada!

The AU Courts / the Personal Collection of Curtis Harris

“Now I think it’s more complicated than that. I’m unsettled by how quickly and naturally I reduced the complexity of the situation—and maybe even to some degree the humanity of the participants, including myself—to just two simple (and fictional) categories: black and white. I’m curious about how and why I did that. I’m curious, to use Steve’s words, about what thinking of myself as white got me in that situation, what it took from me, and most of all, what I gained when the thought fell away.”

Via “How Basketball Helped Me Realize I’m Not White” by Yago Coslas

And if you’re curious, by all means finish reading Yago Colas’s poignant article on his three decades at a St. Louis outdoor court and the community he became a part of there. Inspired by Colas, I’ve reflected on my own recent experiences with pick-up ball over the past year. And really, all of you who play ball should too.

This time last year, I was living in Washington, D.C. and was the Sultan of Swat, the King of Kings, the Lawrence of Arabia of the outdoor courts at American University. Exaggerations aside, this was not so much because I was the best player there. Sure, I was top tier (on the Dennis Rodman level perhaps), but some others were definitely better than myself. But among the court’s elite, I held a special place.

These elite weren’t the high council of the court’s best players, but of its longest-tenured. At a university that means the professors and staff. These middle-aged men were the chords of memory that kept the continuity and history of the court alive. These men had seen me show up as a doughfaced freshman who was there all the time to the alumnus who had to squeeze in a couple of days a week of play due to being an adult.

Over those 6 years, I learned every conceivable piece of knowledge there was about the court. Where to dribble to avoid “court irregularities.” Knowing how to shoot off the misshapen backboard just right to bank in a shot. How to fly in for a layup without knocking myself out on the metal pole holding up the basket. What angles to shoot from at a particular time of day given the sun’s placement. And, of course, knowledge on the players who came to hoop it up.

Sadly, I had to leave that comfort zone behind as I moved back to Texas earlier this year and I went in search of a new basketball home. Remembering a park that was brand new when I left the Lone Star State for college 6 years earlier, I went there to check out the scene. Much like the D.C. court, this one had also built up its own culture and hierarchy.

Showing up in my customary high socks and wrist bands, I had to wait a couple games to see my first action. I was less than spectacular due to rustiness from a month off from hoops. Instead of being looked upon with respect, I was viewed as the guy who couldn’t shoot and as dead weight. One mouthy individual even chided his teammate for going out to guard me. Not my finest hour, but it did get thinking on how we perceive fresh faces on the courts now that for the first time in years, I was one.

The most noticeable prejudice on this pick-up court was, unsurprisingly, race. Black players were hesitant to pick up white players, especially unknown white players. I’ve seen usually nonchalant players who take their sweet time between games by smoking cigarettes and pot, hastily call for the next game to get going to preclude a group of white players from having next. Another occasion a couple of Indian players were offhandedly dismissed with an “Oh, they’re not playing” from one black player to another. Surely, though man’s mind has conceived of other ways to harshly distinguish his brother. Stylistic prejudice for instance. It took months for me to gain any respect for my style of play which is best described as Bobby Jones-meets-Dennis Rodman-meets-Tim Duncan. If you don’t swish home long-range threes or knife through the defense on blitzing drives to the hoop, you’re really not valued highly.

However, that’s just the annoying, borderline bigotry of some players. There are many awesome characters that enliven the court and make it worth coming to. There’s the boyfriend-and-girlfriend hooping duo that everyone likens to the characters in Love & Basketball. There’s the beefy tall guy who once wore a Thundercats shirt and is now forever known as “Thundercat” no matter what he’s wearing. There’s Pee Wee who gets playful taunts incessantly for his huge outtie belly button. There‘s the chatter that goes on between the old school players (in their 40s and 50s) who rag on 30-somethings when they complain about how old they’re feeling. The topical, flavor of the month comparisons like this past June when everyone was claiming they’d pull a comeback like the Mavs whenever they got down 8-4 in a game.

Most endearingly I’ve regained a sense of community and most charmingly a nickname, the surest sign that you’ve found a home. In D.C., I was “Plastic Man”, not for Stacey Augmon type dunks but for my contortions while shooting and rebounding. Now I’m either “Rodman” to the old school hoopsters or, because of my rail thin physique, “Slim” to the younger crowd. Either way, it’s fine by me. If the game, courts, people and my memory of them are best served with a haze of untarnished aura, then why not myself?

Photo by xcode on Flickr

So this one time, Zach Lowe completely ripped Andray Blatche apart accurately described Andray Blatche’s season.

Blatche played much of last season (and prior seasons, really) like an entitled pseudo-star, hogging the ball on offense, taking awful shots and playing some of the least-inspired defense you’ll ever see. Injuries may have contributed to all of this, but Blatche could feel confident the Wizards didn’t really have anyone else to take his minutes. That’s still true … for now.

Via Draft Puts A Number Of Veterans On Notice, 6/27/11

Lowe was saying that, with the Wizards drafting Jan Vesely and Chris Singleton, Blatche should be feeling some pressure to get his act in gear. And guess what? He says he’s doing that.

“I’m 25 years old,” said Blatche, who celebrated his birthday last month with John Wall, Hamady Ndiaye, Josh Howard and Trevor Booker in South Beach. “I’ve been in the league six years now. I know my goal. I want to be an all-star. And to be an all-star, I have to make changes, and those are the changes that I have to make now.

“I took the time to cut back on some friends and some people, and built myself around better people that know what’s best for me,” he said. “I’m sorry that it took so long for me to realize it, but it’s all about growing and maturing and that’s basically what I’m doing.”

Via Andray Blatche: ‘I Have To Make Changes,’ 9/10/11

That’s all awesome. It’s always good to hear a player say he’s trying to grow. But let’s go back to last year, when we were supposed to be excited about his strength instead of worried about his foot injury.

“I keep working hard and going through rehab,” Blatche said recently. “I changed my diet, working harder. Eating right and drinking right. Before the foot injury, I was in the gym every day working, so my body could be ready for the 82 games. That’s the main thing for me, my body. That’s what I’m focusing on. Just rehabbing, taking it day by day, working out. Not trying to be lazy. So, I’m getting in the weight room.”

Via Despite Foot Injury, Andray Blatche Focused On His Physique, 7/22/10

And the summer before that? That’s when he decided to change his number because he was a new man. A harder-working man.

“We’ve got a new coaching staff, we changed a lot, so it’s time for me to change my whole style, my whole mentality,” Blatche said Wednesday afternoon. “I’m wearing 7, and that means seven days [a week] of hard work, seven days of being focused. I’m all about business, and I’ve got a big opportunity I’m gonna take advantage of.”

Via Wizards’ Andray Blatche Switches Uniform Numbers To Show His Commitment, 7/7/09

I’m not trying to be all snarky and tell you that he doesn’t care about getting better or he’s lying. I believe he wants to get better now, and I believe he wanted to two years ago, after his mom called him out. I guess I’m just not sure he’s got that focus in him. Some guys just don’t. He said it himself, he’s been in the league for six years! At this point, if your defense is still being compared to that of a high schooler or a hungover zombie, it’s hard for me to bet on you. I still really want to believe because, goddamn, he’s 6’11 with guard skills, but reading about maturing and making changes isn’t going to get me on the bandwagon. I’ve seen him take some of the worst shots ever and repeatedly offer no resistance at all on the defensive end — when I see him make changes on the court, I’ll be impressed. I sincerely hope this is the year.

Photo by zarrsadus on Flickr

 

A third free agent who played for the Nuggets last year is in serious talks to play in China.

Kenyon Martin has received significant interest from two professional teams in the Chinese Basketball Association, which would make him the highest-paid player in the history of that league, a source said today.

Via Nuggets forward Kenyon Martin might play in China, 9/9/11

Noam Schiller already touched on the fact that Denver is in a “battle against free agency.” As a fan of the post-Melo group that stormed through the entire league after the trade deadline, I’m a little bummed out. It’s not that I didn’t know this franchise would have to make some tough decisions this off-season, but it’s unsettling knowing that the Nuggets’ prospects for 2011-2012 might look radically different by the time they’re allowed to begin negotiating with their still-stateside free agents.

I loved the way the post-deadline Nuggets played in transition. I loved the way they forced turnovers. It was fascinating to watch an elite offense stacked with talent but without a go-to scorer. I liked how Wilson Chandler played a lot of 2 but found himself at the 4 occasionally, enjoyed the contrast between Arron Afflalo and J.R. Smith. Ty Lawson and Ray Felton were a fun point guard  combo, complementing one another more effectively than anyone could have predicted. They had depth at every position, reminding me of Hubie Brown’s Grizzlies teams, except better.

Now, Felton is gone, replaced by Andre Miller. The 35-year-old is a fine player, but if Felton was to be dealt I hoped it would be for a non-point guard so Lawson could emerge as a clear-cut #1 PG for the first time. Chandler is gone, at least for this season (if there is one). And if J.R. Smith and Kenyon Martin are BOTH gone? This would still be a team with some talent, but it would suddenly lack depth and, sadly, an identity.

Perhaps this was inevitable. Last season, Denver’s depth was its identity. You’d hate to gameplan against those Nuggets because they had so many weapons. On the other side of the floor, George Karl had the luxury of tremendous defensive versatility, in terms of having individuals who could guard multiple positions and having the ability to go big or go small without sacrificing anything. This is what made the team so unique and so captivating, but it may have been unsustainable because of the sheer number of players that were required to make it work.

Hate to say it, but losing Chandler, Smith, and Martin to the CBA would make it more difficult to sell Nene on re-signing. It’d make the Arron Afflalo restricted free agency situation a lot trickier if another team comes forward with a big offer, too. I’m as pumped as the next guy for Jordan Hamilton and Kenneth Faried… Er, let’s be honest: I’m probably significantly more pumped than the next guy for Jordan Hamilton and Kenneth Faried… but I really dug the team that fell to the Thunder. It feels like three months wasn’t nearly enough, but I guess it’ll have to be.

Photo by robleto on Flickr

I feel I owe Stephen Graham an apology. A few days ago, Danny Chau and I deemed him the worst rotation player in the NBA. Included in the post is a video I edited of all of his most embarrassing missed shots from last season. In the video, he is failing over and over again. Uncontested jumpers, easy layups, clank, clank, clank. He appears to be trying hard and even making some decent moves off the dribble, but in these clips he just can’t put the ball in the basket. Or, in lots of cases, anywhere near it. I made him look completely incompetent and, with “Yakety Sax” in the background, it’s pretty funny. But it’s a bit mean.

Danny and I are well within our rights to have fun at Graham’s expense, yet I still feel somewhat guilty. After all, Graham isn’t incompetent. I watched every single miss of his from last year and ended up seeing him make some nice plays, too. While a tremendous basketball player, Stephen is just not a good NBA basketball player. He and his brother Joey are incredible athletes and hard workers, but have never been able to produce consistently at this level. They’re licensed pilots with degrees in aviation management, but make baffling decisions on offense and get lost on D. Some might suggest that their high IQ’s and low basketball IQ’s are actually related – when Joey was in Toronto, the word was that he was always thinking. While you need to be mindful of what your coach wants you to do when he puts you in the game, you can’t be actively thinking about this — to be at your best in the NBA, you need to shut everything out and trust your instincts. This seems like a major problem for the Grahams.

I have a feeling this is a problem for other players on our 50-worst list, too. And if it’s not a “too much thinking” thing, maybe it’s a confidence thing. Maybe it’s playing out of position. To make it to the NBA, you need to have lots of basketball talent. If you’re not a star, much of your success is determined by context. Whenever I read David Thorpe saying that the NBA is a coach’s league, I think of role players who look useless one year and valuable the next. Being on this list doesn’t make you a bum — I’d take a healthy Louis Amundson (#30) on my team in a second. I’d love for my young guys to spend a season with Raja Bell (#12). If I could inject Darko Milicic (#38) with focus and Andris Biedrins (#48) with confidence, I’d start either lefty at center. And man, I’m looking forward to seeing Jonny Flynn (#39) out of Minnesota.

I tend to get annoyed with fans who say certain players “suck.” The worst NBA players have put more of themselves into basketball than a lot of these people will ever put into anything. I get really annoyed when people call players lazy and say they don’t care, unless there’s real evidence of this. I’ll say Stephen Graham has been ineffective in the pros and has terrible hands, but that’s where it ends. It’s actually pretty f’ing awesome that he’s made himself a career after going undrafted, undeterred by the “inferior brother” label and stints in the CBA and D-League. With no NBA games or transactions to analyze, I may have ridiculed you a little, Stephen, but it was all in good fun. I’m sorry, man. You’re alright.

Photo by Jess1820 on Flickr

 Count Gordon Hayward among the NBA players who will join a new league during the lockout.

But he’s not headed overseas or to Las Vegas. He’ll also be playing a different kind of game.

The 21-year-old Utah Jazz player has joined a professional video game league with IGN Entertainment. Hayward will compete with other eSports video athletes in a StarCraft II competition from Oct. 6-9 at Caesars Atlantic City in the IGN Pro League.

via Utah Jazz: Gordon Hayward finds a new league 

Gordon Hayward is back in action, you guys. This is the big leagues. This is where video game stars are born.

I wonder if Hayward has the pedigree to hold up with other “hard-core gamers”. Maybe his celebrity status as a Utah Jazz small forward helped him get his foot in the door of the competitive video gaming world. Maybe his winning smile is the glue that holds his Starcraft skills together.

Part of me worries about all of the media attention that Hayward’s announcement is getting. I wouldn’t want to see expectations to rise to high, ala with Utah Jazz fans in 2010. I’m sure Hayward will eventually prove himself to be a capable Starcraft II enthusiast (likely near the end of the league’s run), but it isn’t easy out there in the video game world.

I’ve created a brief itinerary, which I think Hayward should consider using while in Vegas:

Unofficial Starcraft 2 Domination Itinerary

7:00 AM- Eat healthy breakfast, but not too healthy. We’re trying to overcome gamer stereotypes here, but let’s not overdo it.

8:00 AM- Push-ups, just because they’re cool.

8:30 AM- Rap practice?

9:00 AM-5:00 PM- Starcraft time (I’m assuming that the daily hours for a video game competition are exactly the same as they are for typical corporate America)

5:00 PM- 7:00 PM- Avoid an angry Deron Williams impersonator.

7:00 PM-9:00 PM- Try to improve CBA relations in the IGN Pro League, whether or not it’s necessary.

9:00 PM-11:00 PM: Do your best to convince someone that the only way you’re able to prepare for another day of competitive gaming is by watching the hit documentary, March of the Penguins.  

I wish the best to Hayward in his new professional venture. It’s not easy being a two-sport athlete.

Photo by Simon Shek on Flickr

There’s a man that walks his dog on my street every day. We know virtually nothing about each other. The only thing I’ve really noticed over the past few years about The Man With His Dog is the intensity of his eyes. He slows down a little bit every year, his bones losing the un-winnable fight as he ages. That much I can tell. But those eyes? They burn as bright as the sun that beats down upon his panting dog.

I’ve seen a similar look remain in Kevin Garnett’s eyes as the years have passed. He’s aged, his production has fallen (though he’s still a very good player), but he still yells at officials and screams as he dunks with the same enthusiasm he possessed in his Minnesota days. If he’s anything, Kevin Garnett is a fixture in the NBA. Fans know what to expect from Garnett (the same thing they’ve expected from him for more than a decade now), and Garnett knows how to deliver his image consistently. Nothing has ever stopped Garnett from being Garnett, not even time. But time isn’t an opponent that ever truly loses. Every player can only hold it off for so long.

Which brings us to what’s in the periphery of every current NBA story, but applies to Garnett’s tale (and future) as much as anyone else: The looming NBA lockout. While recent reports have been mildly (think: Taco Bell salsa) positive, no clear indication exists that this lockout is going anywhere. For players like Garnett, who’s 35 and likely only has a few more years left in the league, time is scarce. He’s said that he wants to retire as a Celtic, but how many years does he truly have left with the team?

This is the problem the lockout presents to the veteran stars of the league. We’ve seen in the past how missing games and training camps can severely affect the conditioning of players (Shawn Kemp was never the same), and it’s only harder when you’re 35 and have faced recent injuries. But the list of aging NBA stars that could lose relevant years of their careers extends far past Garnett. Dirk Nowitzki, Tim Duncan, and Kobe Bryant are also now well into the second half of their careers, and they stand to be affected in their own individual ways.

We’ve already watched as Kobe’s athleticism has slowly began to wane. He carries the same authoritative movements and a game that remains devastating in it’s evolving cleverness, but his production and efficiency have suffered.  An athlete can only learn so many new wiles before his body tells him to sit down, rest, and say goodbye to the constant erosion that a season causes. If we lose an entire season, we lose another season of watching Kobe hold off the march of NBA time. Some have said that it could give Kobe time to finally get healthy, but age overrides the immediate health problems that stand to have their effect lessened. Age is never truly immediate, and it always looks forward.  And for Tim Duncan, a lockout could steal one of the very few (likely one or two) years that remain in which he could be a useful basketball player (and I doubt that “Old Dependable” sticks around after that).

In the case of Dirk Nowitzki, the effect that the loss of a season would have is even more difficult to discern. The Mavericks (SPOILER ALERT) finally managed to win a title this year, and many fans view his “legacy” as now “fulfilled”. What that ignores is Dirk’s remaining ability to achieve much more in the next few seasons. While the Mavericks still have many question marks regarding their team makeup going forward, they’ll likely retain much of their championship team. I doubt Mark Cuban will be interested in losing much of what finally brought his long struggling franchise great success. That, included with the likelihood that Dirk will likely remain at his current elite level for a few more years (I tend to think he has 2-3 more years in his “prime”, and a couple more years of effectiveness following that before retirement), makes the reigning champion Mavericks a team not to be trifled with next season. If there is no “next season”, the Mavericks could lose much of the momentum and core they’ve recently established.

Though the toll of aging would be less during than a lockout than it is while playing a season, the ensuing smaller price would be accompanied by no reward. The toll on Kobe during a nonexistent season may be physically less than during a typical season, but it’s also coupled with absolutely no gain. His loss may be slight, but nothing will, or could be, added to his career’s meaning (and the goals he appears to seek) during a lockout.

Beyond simply the physical toll, a mental toll also lurks in the notion of an extended lockout. After no season and another added year of age, will these players still feel the same mental connection to playing another season? When they’re even older (in the NBA context) in a post-lockout world and have already achieved success, how will the way they contextualize their goals change, if at all? As fans, will we perceive returning veterans as needing a set of lowered expectations? It’s certainly not a stretch to say, for example, that a Celtics’ fan would be considerably wary of the decreased performance a 36 year-old power forward with a recent injury history might provide after a lockout (i.e. Kevin Garnett).

The reality remains that this is just a one-year span. In life, and even in the context of an entire span of an NBA career, terms, that isn’t a very long time. How a player plays from year-to-year can often remain largely consistent, and seemingly nothing can change regrading a player’s production. But as a player ages, the changes in ability that occur between years only becomes more frequent and more drastic. Natural processes can come crashing down all at once on an athlete, whether or not they’re facing the toll of an actual season. While these changes are often buffered by the presence of an equally changing NBA landscape, that won’t exist during a lockout. Age can set in quickly, but the league itself will remain stagnant.

When I look at players like Dirk Nowitzki, Kevin Garnett, Kobe Bryant, and Tim Duncan, I can’t help but feel a certain sense of hope. I consider the stalwart attitude they’ve displayed throughout their careers, and I feel a sort of (likely misplaced) pride. For three of them, you could easily argue that they reached their greatest success after their athleticism had begun to fade. Kobe led his team (with Pau Gasol and company playing a vital role, of course) to two championships after those days seemed long passed during the mid 2000-s. Though he was already in his early 30s, Garnett finally landed on a team with other top players and promptly won a title (and barely missed out on a second one). Dirk finally found the “ultimate” success because of the reliance he displayed on his own unique game (with an indescribable, almost beautiful confidence) and his odd yet effective group of teammates.

These stars seized the game while they still could and made it theirs. If the NBA loses an entire season, the chance they have to capitalize as best they can on their own abilities could be stolen from them.

The worst part? They won’t be able to do a thing about it. No seizing, no triumph, no “redemption”. It’ll just be an unmistakable and unassailable loss that can’t ever be given back. And that’s the truly devastating nature of what the NBA lockout could do to the players, and what it could do to fans.

Truth be told, I only (on a personal level) particularly like one of the veteran stars that I’ve mentioned. But, for whatever reason, I, as a fan, still inherently care about the trajectory of the careers of every single one of them. I care about Kobe Bryant and what happens next for him and his team, despite my dislike for his jaw jut and most Kobe Bryant-isms. I care about whether Kevin Garnett is still able to be a good basketball player, even though his screaming and unnecessarily angry outbursts lead me to have irritable nightmares. I want to see all of this, and I feel robbed at the idea of it being taken away from me and other fans (whether or not that feeling is justified). I can’t avoid the feeling of loss, because the emotional connection I possess regarding the human side of the game itself, the human side that these players so uniquely and individually display, is too overwhelming. I implicitly know that what I’m watching happen to people on a basketball court, as they strive for personal and team success, means something, anything, in the context of me.

Maybe that’s what we could lose because of the time that the lockout stands to take away from us: the ability to experience and create meaning in the short window of time that exists to find it. Without the ability to decide their own fate, players will lose both their own sense of structure and justice, and thusly, so will fans.

The lockout will take away both time and meaning, and all of us will be the worser for it.

Photo from Te Kōtimana via Flickr

Denver Nuggets free-agent guard J.R. Smith(notes) is nearing an agreement on the richest contract in China Basketball Association history, sources told Yahoo! Sports.

Under terms of the deal, Smith would make more than $3 million to play the 2011-12 season with Shanxi, but lose his chance at unrestricted free agency prior to the start of the NBA season. Smith, who turns 26 on Friday, has averaged 12.5 points per game in his seven-year NBA career.

via Smith nears deal to play in China – NBA – Yahoo! Sports.

J.R. Smith was always somewhat of a bird in a cage. A crazy, trigger-happy, tattoo-infested bird in a cage that was only striving for normality. Byron Scott and George Karl, the only two birdkeepers Smith has ever known, never truly understood the inner workings of the precious species they were responsible for grooming. They wanted to win basketball games, or build strong teams, or contend for a title. Throughout their quest, they used J.R. when they deemed fit, never hesitant to cage him once again when he took flight in what they decided was a wrong direction.

But J.R. Smith has no interest in these petty quests. They belong to ordinary men, not those of J.R.’s stature. All J.R. wants is to…

We’ll get back to you on that.

Whatever it is that J.R. loves most, he will now be playing on the opposite continent, against inferior competition. And though NBA fans will miss the mercurial shooting guard if the 2011-2012 season indeed takes place, we must understand that J.R. was made for the Chinese Basketball Association. He’s been coasting on talent alone in the NBA for years, and that has been enough to make him a potent scorer and a perennial 6^th man of the year candidate. Just imagine how he’ll do in a league in which talent alone makes him the best.

Wilt’s 100? Heck, I’d say Drazen Petrovic’s international record of 114 is in play here. As is every single record regarding field goals, three pointers, free throws – made and attempted for each. By giving him the largest contract in Chinese basketball history, Shanxi are not only giving Smith a license to shine on his own terms, they are practically begging him to do so. For a player who has done things his own bizarre way even when asked not to, the options are now endless.

Going beyond the J.R.-centric implications of this move, both the Nuggets and the NBA could be affected by this. Denver was already a team that was going to struggle in the battle against free agency: Smith, Wilson Chandler, Kenyon Martin and Nene are all coming off the books, and only Nene has shown a clear indication that he wants to stay. Of course, he also said he wants to win and doesn’t care about money, which is never good for an incumbent team.Chandler is gone for 2011-2012 regardless, after beating Smith to the Chinese punch, leaving Denver without its bench wingmen. Jordan Hamilton is fun, but for a team built around incredible scoring power and depth, these are two huge losses.

As for the NBA, Smith sets yet another precedent in a growing list of them. Lockout talks are gaining some traction over the past few days, but optimism is still hard to find without gigantic grains of salt. As the season draws nearer, more and more players will want to move to leagues off American soil. However, most European teams would rather finalize their rosters than hang on to the thread that is a shot at a frustrated NBAer locked out of his hometown gym. With job opportunities overseas dwindling, the one league that will be available will be the Chinese – and even that comes with the caveat of no opt-out clause.

BetweenChandlerand Smith, though, we now have two high profile free agents who have decided to take their chances as far as 2011-2012. Guys such as Nene, Marc Gasol or Tyson Chandler, guaranteed to reap in major paydays no matter what the CBA, won’t be joining them. But the sort of free agents that used to be pegged for mid-level exceptions, itching for basketball, may take the two Nuggies’ lead and go for a guaranteed salary over fiddling at home, hoping for best.

Which, of course, is what we’re doing. Sigh.

Photo from FallenPegasus via Flickr

Allow me to begin with a confession: I only recently read Chris Ballard’s “The Art Of A Beautiful Game” for the first time. This is far from a lifelong neglection of my basketball education – the masterpiece arrived on shelves only two years ago – but as a self-proclaimed basketball fanatic, so much so that I refuse to show interest in other aspects of life even when the entirety of basketball is locked behind negotiations and fiscal disagreements, this has been a sore spot for me two years running. No more.

From amongst the countless fascinating tales that Ballard weaves with his literary yarn and unique interviewing skills, one particular quote stood out to me. While discussing the “superbigs” of the NBA, Ballard goes into detail describing the work ethic, the training routine, and the close surroundings of the recently retired Yao Ming. Due to the sharp contrast between the 2009 storytelling and my 2011 reading, I couldn’t help but feel cheated.Yao is rightfully described by Ballard as an incumbent superstar; nowadays, he is more distinguishable as a bright flash of greatness that collapsed under the burden of a 300 pound body that lacked adequate support, a could-have-should-have who wasn’t, not by his own accord, but because of the cruel world of podiatry.

I fully recommend you read the entire book, then do so again, as it would be impossible for me to even begin to convey just how much I enjoyed it. For now, though, I want to focus on a single quote from the Superbigs chapter, in which an unnamed NBA scout says regardingYao, “[he] has maxed out his potential as much as any player in the league”.

Without delving too far into whether this statement is right or wrong, the notion of its plausibility struck me with the intellectual equivalent of sheer force. As dominant as a peaking Yao was on the court, he clearly had his limits – though nimble for such a giant, his 7’6” frame placed a structural limit to his speed and quickness, and he struggled, as most big men often do, with turnovers and occasional foul trouble. But of the flaws in his game, were any of them truly salvageable? Athletes stretch the limits of our imaginations, but they too are human. Nowhere was this more apparent than in the melancholy way Yao eventually left the game. But even on the court, most of the things he couldn’t do were just things he had no possible way of doing, as opposed to obtainable skills that he failed to obtain.

The problem with this argument is that it’s easily manipulated. Kevin Garnett, at his peak, could do virtually everything that can be done on a basketball court. Does this mean Garnett maximized a round 100% of his potential? What about Michael Jordan? Best player ever, yada yada yada, but he could have improved that 3 point shot, no? And what about a Nick Collison, a limited player who uses smarts and guile to be a contributor to a good team although his basic skill set would indicate otherwise?

This summer, Durant took a different route, but produced the same swoons and sighs from the huddled masses. From Rucker to Goodman, Durant did nothing more than play basketball. This time, it wasn’t leadership and skill, it was romanticism incarnate. How can you not fall in love with he who just wants to play, wherever and whenever? Durant’s game is so smooth, so magical – my father says he should win MVP every year until he retires just because he has “the nicest face”, and he has a solid point – that it is impossible to remain in one’s seat as the knife that is his jumper swooshes through the butter that is the net. The way he dominates each and every venue is almost irrelevant. What matters is the way it’s happening: joyously, like a child at play, taking his backpack to the playground, destroying all his other little friends with a shy smile on his face, and going back home.

Going strictly by my set of rules, the answer is yes. But my set of rules is a tricky one. When I say a player has no ceiling, I mean that there is no basketball skill that he cannot acquire, thus theoretically enabling him to be the perfect basketball player. This is obviously practically impossible, mostly because the amount of hours one must put in to improve his game to perfection is so large that they probably do not fit into a single human lifetime, and certainly do not fit into a human athletic peak.

Take, for example, Serge Ibaka. The man is a physical specimen (as any theoretical “ceilingless” player would have to be, because physical skills are much harder to enhance than technical ones), and the insane amount of improvement he’s made in just two years make me believe that from a purely genetic standpoint, he can learn anything. But he entered the league so raw to begin with, that if he is indeed to learn “everything”, by the time he’ll be finished, that other-worldly athleticism will be long gone.

That said, there are a few players in the league that I define as ceiling-less. James is certainly one of them, though at this point, it’s fair to wonder whether there is a ceiling to the mental part of his game. Dwight Howard is, to these eyes, by far and away the second best basketball player alive, but his ceiling is quite existent, if incredibly high – the free throws, the post game, the turnover issues, all improvable, none of them to the max.

Derrick Rose, I would venture, has no ceiling. He has the work ethic and the magnificent build to be one of this league’s best perimeter defenders; the passing game improved considerably last season, enough so to convince me that eventually, he could be as elite at running an offense as he is at carrying it. The biggest issue would be to acquire a new and improved jump shot that is as good at getting into the basket as it is at getting into headlines, but I see no reason why this would be unattainable.

John Wall has no ceiling. He’s like a ridiculously concentrated version of Rose, entering the league with better defensive tools and far superior court vision, but then again, the jump shot is in even worse shape. If Rose’s jumper is the vulnerable heel to his otherwise indestructible Achilles, then John Wall is a demigod with an amputated leg. Still, jumpers can be acquired, and if Wall does so with his, I can envision a world in which he’s the game’s best player.

Blake Griffin has no ceiling. Mostly because no ceiling would dare try and obstruct him while he’s jumping upwards. Already one of the league’s best scorers without actually knowing how to score, and one of its best rebounders without actually knowing how to rebound, and on the heels of one of the most impressive passing seasons for a rookie big man ever, the notion of Blake playing basketball after actually learning to do so is utterly frightening.

Please note that “not having a ceiling” doesn’t mean a player will exponentially improve forever, each season better than the last. Obviously, every player peaks at some point, and that peak is always measurable. What this does mean is that I can not reasonably place a projection in which I can confidently say “Player X will never do better than A, B, C”. Odds are, Derrick Rose never scores 30 points per game with 50-40-90 percentages, John Wall never averages 24, 5 and 12 a game while winning Defensive Player of the Year, and Blake Griffin never leads the Clippers to actual respectability, because if he tries to expel Donald Sterling he will be dragged into hell by evil gargoyles and Michael Olowakandi. But of the infinite scenarios in which the NBA can unfold over the next years, each of these occurrences takes place in at least one. That, to me, is potential, even if maximizing it is extremely unlikely.

Tom Ziller, quoted above, takes the opposite side of the debate, focusing on why creating for one’s self isn’t a necessity for a great scorer. It’s hard to argue against him. Efficiency numbers hint to us that Durant may very well be not only the league’s best scorer today, but the best ever. Criticize him all you want for being somewhat disarmed by aggressive Tony Allen ball denials, but while doing so, you must also remember just how good Tony Allen ball denials are at disarming offensive options, ask yourself why the Grizzlies were working so hard to prevent Durant from touching the ball. And while we’re not ones to yell “SCOREBOARD!”, you might want to look at this when you’re telling yourself how Durant struggled in that series.

My main issue with what Ziller is saying is that I feel him and Strauss are making different arguments. Durant the scorer is incredible; but this discussion is about Durant the player. Eventually, there comes a time when scorers can’t score anymore – percentages only go as high as 100, after all. And while Durant can still, incredibly, improve there – his 46% from the field and 35% from three last season both seem at least 5% lower than how it feels when you watch him, and Scotty Brooks could eventually understand offenses – he is so close to perfection in this regard, that the tweaks he can realistically make won’t be enough to close the distance between him and the NBA’s uber-elite on their own.

Ziller disagrees with me here, saying that we shouldn’t penalize Durant for specialization. Conversely, though, we must not reward him for it. Kevin Love’s rebounding is phenomenal, but he is still a problematic defensive player; similarly, Durant’s game still has weaknesses, on both ends of the court. Durant is a boost to an offense even without scoring by sheer value of intimidation and spacing – but these values are compromised if he struggles to find the open man, or even if he only does so at a subpar rate. And though he has become a very good rebounder and an average defender at worst, Durant’s effect on the defensive end of the court just can not compete with that of the league’s best two way players, even if he is a boost to an offense by the sheer value of intimidation.

The question is, why I think this is a problem that will persist. After all, by defining a ceiling for Durant, I am by my own standards declaring that I can’t envision a scenario in which he improves the non-scoring aspects of his game enough to let the scoring carry the rest. This is because Durant’s flaws, unlike those of a Lebron, aren’t ones that can be sorted out with an empty gym and copious amounts of sweat – they are structural.

Despite his once-in-a-millennium body, he can not compete with James and Howard as far as sheer athleticism goes. Durant’s ferocious dunk over Brendan Haywood was such a shocking play not just because of the violent way in which Durant made sure Haywood will no longer be able to show his face in public, but because it was so out of character. He lacks the explosiveness to contest at the rim, or the bulk to stop power forwards down low (to be fair, adding that bulk will just hurt his game, and I would advise against it). His length alone will probably eventually make him a strong perimeter defender, but he’s too big to become truly elite at it, and he’s not strong enough to convert that size to the interior. That’s where Lebron and Dwight separate from the pack – they defend everything, everywhere, and they just do it better.

Kevin Durant’s ceiling is incredibly high. In fact, it is so high, that it is almost invisible. If someone were to ascend to the top of the Durant Potential Tower, he would probably discover that the ceiling was made of glass – thus enabling us a perfect view of the sky above, and taunting us into believing that the ceiling wasn’t even there. But it exists. And while it shouldn’t prevent Kevin Durant from being one of the best ever, it should stop him from dominating his peers, just by virtue of them being so ridiculously good as well. This isn’t a knock on Durant as much as an ode to just how good basketball players have become and can still develop. Durant is an evolutionary step to be sure, but as far as the hierarchy goes, he still has a few links to look up to.