Forget momentarily that a horrible lockout is slowly destroying the league’s momentum. Forget about the missed games. Remember something else, if just for a moment, instead. Remember the electrifying 2011 NBA playoffs. Remember what we’d be discussing if our hearts and minds weren’t focused on stagnant negotiations.
Remember Chris Paul’s return?
Remember the joy of two young teams locked in struggle?
This is a playlist I made last night after the once-promising marathon mediation sessions between the NBA and NBPA imploded and made the possibility of a canceled season seem more real than ever. There’s nothing scientific about this playlist—it’s just some songs by some bands I like that I think have something to say about this mess.
Connor Huchton and Scott Leedy like to argue. Instead of shouting at each other on Twitter, they’ve decided to try something more constructive: An actual, semi-coherent email conversation. What you see below are the results. (The first segment in this series can be found here.)
Scott: Ok, let’s just pretend for one second that there is no lockout. What are you most excited for in the upcoming “season”? What teams stories or players most interest you? For me, the Thunder hold a particular interest. Especially James Harden. I think he has the potential to be the second best player on that team. I also believe he could be their go to playmaker down the stretch (you know, if Scott Brooks can get it together) Another important question: With JR Smith and Kenyon Martin gone, can Andray Blatche alone carry the “guys who do stupid stuff off the court that make us laugh, cry, and break things, all at the same time” load by himself?
Connor: So many questions at once. I’ll answer the first one, because it’s the easiest. In the upcoming season, I’m probably most interested in Bismack Biyombo. And not just how he plays. What is he “all about”? Can he play point guard?
Scott: Ah, Biyombo. Also known as Tyrus Thomas with a cool name. Seems like there’s really two camps when it comes to Bismack: There are those who marvel at his athleticism and defensive potential, and then there are those who laugh at and mock those people. I tend to fall in to the second category, though I do see why Charlotte fans are excited about him as a player. If nothing else, he provides some semblance of hope for what has been a downtrodden franchise. Unfortunately, hope can be a dangerous thing.
Connor: No, hope is a good thing. This is basketball. Without hope, we’d all be Brad Miller and have sworn off the NBA by now. As for Biyombo, I have hope. There’s plenty of reason to be hopeful about a teenager who led the second best basketball league in the world in blocks and has a great work ethic and disposition. He can naturally rebound and block, but he doesn’t seem willing to settle and play simply to the extent of his natural capabilities.
Scott: It’s difficult to categorize hope as either good or bad. At this point it feels as though all the hope has been beaten out of us by snarky David Stern quotes, awful player PR campaigns, and an astounding lack of perspective from both sides during the current NBA conflict. As for Biyombo, I think your last statement will ultimately determine what Biyombo becomes. Being willing to play beyond your natural capabilities can either undermine you as a player or vault you towards greatness. If Biyombo works hard and exerts himself in the the right ways he has a chance to be very good. If he tries to force things and plays beyond what he’s capable in such a way that he damages his team, he is doomed to be another cautionary tale.
Connor: There really aren’t any comparisons for him. I don’t think the dreaded Thabeet comparison really works (nor do I think the more positive ones really apply). Anyway, teams like the Bobcats have to take chances in the draft. Drafting a player like Marcus Morris might turn out ok, but he’s never going to change the scope of a franchise.
Scott: Right, but if you always swing for the fences on potential, you can get burned. I think the best approach is to take who you believe to be the best player available, with all factors taken into account. However, I do agree that small market teams like the Bobcats and Rockets (to a lesser degree) generally need to land a star through the draft to have a chance at a championship.
Connor: Should we talk about the lockout? Because things got bad today. Like Taylor Hicks’s post-American Idol career bad.
Scott: I’m so tired of this whole thing. It’s far too frustrating. I should be looking the schedule to see what games I can make it back to Portland for, and instead I’m just hoping we have some kind of season. I know this is an incredibly complex negotiation and I know the players haven’t exactly handled themselves in the best possible ways, but I’m tired of just about everything that comes from Stern, Silver or The Owners’ mouth. If they want to play hardball, that’s fine. But don’t pretend like you care about the integrity of the game or the fans. That’s disingenuous.
Connor: I like how you capitalized “The Owners”, as if they’re some foreboding medieval club (not that I think it’s the worst comparison). Also, I think there’s danger in lumping every owner together into a unified, hivemind-controlled group (likewise with the players). I doubt Michael Jordan wants what Jerry Buss does, and I doubt Mario West wants exactly what LeBron James does.
Scott: That’s true, but it’s sort of difficult to talk about them in anything other than the aggregate, because we don’t have good information on exactly who wants what. I thought you made a great point on Twitter today: Are the owners really trying to borrow a model from the NHL? It just makes no sense. The NBA has so many good things going for it, and while I understand The Owners make that possible, the league’s success and popularity has everything to do with the quality of play and the marketability of its stars. At this point, The Owners and even the players (to a certain degree) are more interested in being justified than what’s actually best for themselves and the league. It’s upsetting because what we all love about basketball, (the elegance combined with the raw power and athleticism, etc.) is being marred and distorted by “dollars and cents”. I understand that’s “the way it is”, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be upset by it. I think it’s more than within our right to want more.
Connor: Pride is a prominent factor in many negotiations, and it’s role in these negotiations has become increasingly apparent as the lockout has continued. As for the NHL comparison, it is kind of funny in its lack of applicability. Adam Silver might as well of stood at the podium and declared firmly, ”We really like the hard-nosed stance those guys over at the UFL are taking.”
It’s been somewhat of a dull week as far as Israeli based NBA players – but the basketball itself was great, which allows us to take our minds off the continued farce that is the lockout.
Avery Bradley has yet to debut for Hapoel Jerusalem, as the team is trying to integrate the young guard into the European game with utmost caution. Bnei HaSharon/Washington’s Trevor Booker hasn’t played in an official game either, as he is still suffering from a thigh contusion. Booker should return to the US shortly for treatment with the hope that he will return to action as soon as possible. However, with the two sidelined players (and yours truly) in attendance, Hapoel and Bnei HaSharon produced a 99-96 overtime thriller, with the home team from Jerusalem prevailing.
Bnei HaSharon raced to a 30-15 first quarter, behind the elite gunmanship of former Baylor teammates, the awesomely named LaceDarius Dunn (who finished the game with 15 points and 9 boards) and the even more awesomely named Tweety Carter (24, 6 assists). However, after a passive quarter, D.J. Strawberry finally realized that he is absolutely unstoppable going to the rim. With nobody even remotely capable of matching his athleticism, Strawberry got to the rim again and again, either scoring or connecting with assists to power forward Elishai Kadir (17 and 8).
After an incredibly ballsy Kenny Lawson (22 and 9) three tied the game at 85 with 13 seconds left, Yuval Naimi had a chance to seal the game, but missed a wide open layup at the buzzer. Hapoel raced to 91-86 to start overtime, Bnei HaSharon flipped it to 93-91, but after two free throws from former NBA fringe center John Thomas (15 and 8), Strawberry knocked down a step back jumper to put Hapoel up 95-93, blocked a Tweety 3 point attempt, and the game was over a few free throws later. Other players of note were Luke Jackson, who was anemic on occasion but still hit some big shots to finish with 17 for Hapoel, and Delroy James had 18 and 8 for Bnei HaSharon.
Another tight game saw Sean Williams, Sylven Landesberg and Maccabi Haifa fall in overtime to M.C. HaBika. Deon Dowell hit the eventual game winner, and Jeremy Wise missed an awkward hook shot that could have given the game to Haifa. Landesberg had 21, 6 boards and 5 assists – including a pass to a wide open Sean Williams dunk to tie the game at the end of regulation – but he also had 9 (!) turnovers, including a few costly ones down the stretch. Williams had the most Sean Williams game ever, fouling out with 11 points, 5 boards, 3 blocks, and a billion bites at pump fakes.
Hapoel Holon also started their season off on a good note, beating Maccabi Rishon LeZion 87-83. Rishon led the game most of its first 3 quarters, behind an insane shooting display from former Georgetown forward Brandon Bowman (30 points on 11 (!!!!) shots, including 5 of 5 from 3) and the Wizards’ Jordan Crawford’s older brother, Joe Crawford (28 points on 15 shots). The two were on absolute fire – stepbacks, contested 28 footers, banked floaters, the whole repertoire.
However, former Buckeye Ron Lewis wouldn’t let Holon lose. After starting the game with a 7 point quarter, Lewis went completely cold from the outside, so he started driving instead. Lewis got to the line with a vengeance, finishing a perfect 10 for 10 en route to 25 points. Lewis was assisted by the inside presence of Bryant Dunston and Patrick Sullivan, who combined for 26 points and, more importantly, 10 offensive boards. Young Israeli guard Shlomi Harush was a pleasant surprise as well, who threw in 6 steals and extreme amounts of hustle.
The two NBA players who did play this week were Craig Brackins and Jordan Farmar. Maccabi Ashdod and Brackins’s game wasn’t broadcast though, so I have very little observations to offer. Ashdod lost 89-79 to Ironi Ashkelon, and Brackins apparently had a tough time scoring the ball, finishing with 7 points on 3-8 shooting. He also threw in 6 boards and 4 assists for good measure.
But the true star for the losing squad was former Kentucky guard Ramel Bradley, who went off for 31. The winning squad was led by Israeli guard Raviv Limonad, returning to Israel after playing in Spain last year – Limonad had a remarkable stat-line of 24 points (11-12 shooting), 8 boards, 7 assists and 8 steals.
Farmar had a rough Sunday as well, pulling his groin only 6 minutes into Maccabi’s blowout win over Hapoel Galil/Gilboa. Farmar returned to action tonight in Maccabi’s Euroleague opener against Armani Milano – but he probably wishes he didn’t. Farmar had only 6 points on 9 shots in 30 minutes and looked generally terrible. Milano ran away towards an 89-82 win behind a strong third quarter showing from former Spur Malik Hairston, whose jumpers just couldn’t seem to miss. Milano also got a strong showing from everybody’s friend Danilo Gallinari, who displayed the dominant foul drawing capacities that Knicks and Nuggets fans were so happy to see him developing over the past year – Gallo had 23 points, 13 of them from the line (on 16 attempts). Lior Eliyahu led Maccabi’s ranks with 23.
The lockout may try to devour our souls, but (inferior) basketball lives on. How u.
ORLANDO Feb. 26 Serge Ibaka crossed the court of the Amway Center in a state of complete and total awareness.
The locker room had never felt so far away. Every sense he had felt heightened, burdened to the max by the power of the venue and the occasion. His ears were burning with the sounds of fans making their way towards the concession stands, mixed with the remnants of the sting from the halftime buzzer. His eyes focused on Russell Westbrook and Kevin Durant as they too walked towards the locker room, just a few feet in front of him. In the corner of his left eye he saw an ever jolly Craig Sager – in a horrendous green and purple suit topped off with a red tie – interviewing a sweating Blake Griffin, and above them he saw the shimmering scoreboard lights that read “West – 74, East – 68″. His shoulders felt heavy under the weight of his first ever all-star jersey, and his mouth was completely dry. Every step felt like a miscalculation. He didn’t even know if he belonged.
To be fair, though he was still somewhat of a work in progress, Serge had made major strides this season. The new and improved mid-range jumper he developed in his summer Eurobasket stint would come (34 points, 8 of 11 from 16 to 23 feet against Sacramento) and go (4 points, 2 of 13 from the field against Dallas) as it pleased, and he still had very little non-dunking offensive game without it. But he was the main force behind the league’s second best per-possession defensive squad (those pesky Thibsy Bulls just couldn’t be usurped), leading the league in blocks per game (3.4), approaching double-digit rebounds (9.6), and even showing the courage to yell directions at Kendrick Perkins.
And yet, in the deep West, it didn’t feel to him like he should be an all-star. Ibaka wasn’t named in the original 12 man squad, and with guys like Kevin Love, or break-out third year guards Tyreke Evans and Stephen Curry being held out by their teams’ bad records, Serge didn’t seem like he would be next in line. Even when Kevin Durant, asked about the Thunder’s league-leading 49-8 record going into the all-star break, said that it’s “ridiculous” that the Thunder were only granted two all-star spots, the NBA’s analytical community used the remarks as a chance to pump up the candidacy of James Harden, who was banging home a nightly 18 points per game behind a newly found 40% three point stroke and had 6th man of the year wrapped up by mid-November. But when Zach Randolph announced that he’ll sit out all-star weekend in order to rest his sore hamstring, commissioner David Stern decided that the replacement had to be a third Thunder rep, and had to be a forward. In that case, it had to be Serge.
Coach Scotty Brooks, who was awarded the privilege of managing the exhibition game’s Western rotations, already told Serge not to expect many minutes. “You were a replacement”, Brooks said, “and even though I love you more than anybody on this roster, the fans want the West’s power forward to be Blake. Nobody else”. And boy, did the fans speak out on that one – Griffin virtually broke the ballots as far as all-star fan voting, outranking even Kobe Bryant in the Western Conference. This time, the fans couldn’t even be blamed of any wrong-doing – with Blake’s Clippers holding up at a surprising 32-22 come break time, Griffin was making noise even in MVP discussions. When he decided to skip out on both the Rookie Challenge (“he’s not really a sophomore anyway, so I’m cool with that” said replacement Ed Davis) and the Dunk Contest (Kia remained a sponsor), ensuring that he could only be seen on the big stage, Ibaka’s minutes were the first casualty.
When Serge finally did enter the game, there were only 5 minutes left in the half. Even worse, the game was a complete and total farce. Serge had seen all-star games before, but he never realized how lax they were – never the person to stop running, he started off by making two wide-open fastbreak dunks before he was accused of cherry-picking by players from both sides. He spent the rest of his first half stint running around, setting picks, jumping for blocks on defense. On one of those jumps, he connected viciously – Deron Williams had set up a Dwight Howard alley-oop with a gorgeous pass, only Serge jumped with the herculean big man, his arm meeting the ball a solid 12 feet above the ground, and sending it earthward with a loud smack. Charles Barkley managed a tired yelp from the broadcasting booth; Serge just focused on the next possession. It ended with yet another Kobe Bryant 30 footer rattling in above Paul Pierce’s amused, barely stretched arms.
And so came the buzzer. Serge left the court slowly, trying to figure out if he had a place here, or at least, whether he’ll be given a chance to prove so. When suddenly, a voice came from behind him.
“Yo. I-BLO-CKA.”
The voice drawled, and was full of contempt, as if the speaker was making fun of the nickname that the media had so willingly bestowed upon Serge.
Westbrook and Durant immediately stopped their walks and swiveled toward the voice, as if sensing that a friend was soon to be in need. Serge turned as well, though without the determination that defined the motions of his teammates. In front of him stood the full form of what seemed like a very irritated Dwight Howard.
Seeing an irritated Dwight Howard wasn’t as much of a rarity as it was in previous years. The ever-present joy from previous years had seemingly dissipated in a tenuous Orlando locker room. When the Magic lost their first four games, Howard demanded more shot attempts; when they were 2-8, he asked a reporter why Ryan Anderson wasn’t getting more minutes over Brandon Bass; and when the team stumbled to a 6-15 record in mid-December, despite him maintaining averages of 23 and 12, he had finally requested a trade. The request was granted mere hours before the All-Star tipoff, with the final deal being Howard and Chris Duhon moving to Los Angeles for Andrew Bynum, Lamar Odom, surprising rookie guard Darius Morris, and a future first round pick. Since the deal was announced so close to the game itself, a combination of logistics and Stern dictated that Dwight would still play for the East.
The All-Star game itself wasn’t going much better for Dwight. Appearing in front of the Amway Center crowd as a home player for the last time, Howard was booed rigorously during introductions, drawing even harsher jeers than LeBron James. He then proceeded to miss two straight wide open dunks to start the game, as well as airball a three pointer that he took at the first quarter buzzer, with an eager Carmelo Anthony egging him on. Ibaka’s block, specifically, had seemed to affect him harshly, though he concealed it well to the untrained eye, wearing his trademark smile and laughing heartily once he and Ibaka had descended from the apexes of their respective jumps. The Amway crowd’s cheers upon witnessing their former idol’s humiliation couldn’t have been helpful, either.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Howard asked Ibaka, agitation still radiating from his brow, “this is the second quarter of the All-Star game. We don’t play defense before the 4th. You tryin’ to make me look bad?”
“I don’t know, Dwight”, Ibaka answered, “I always play defense”.
By this point, not only Durant and Westbrook were looking, but so were Sager and Griffin, their generic interview clearly much less interesting than what was happening well within earshot’s range. Griffin scratched his head, while Sager’s incredulous expression looked almost as unnatural as his clothing.
Howard leaned closer to Ibaka, and said in a deep voice “defense is my thing, not yours, kid.” Seemingly unsatisfied, he added “and let me tell you, you better be playing that defense in May.”
The two men stared each other in the eye when Westbrook’s voice broke into the conversation:
“Or what? You’ll get stopped by Perk again?”
Howard’s head shot quickly towards the point guard. Durant was trying very hard to stifle a smile. The arena felt much quieter than it actually was as Dwight strained his face, clearly unfamiliar with the bully role. He was much better at intimidating his opponent on the court than off it, much more in his element making Stan Van Gundy noises than making threats.
Suddenly, he smiled again.
“Just playin’, Sergie boy”, he exclaimed happily. “Good block, good block. Try to get Bron next time.” He then proceeded to run into the tunnel, perhaps a bit faster than he intended, mumbling something about playing with Pau Gasol in the high post.
Ibaka looked at Westbrook, then at Durant, then Westbrook again. They had the same look in their eyes as they had after their double overtime win in Miami in December: a quick flash of satisfaction, followed by hunger for more. He knew that his own eyes were projecting the exact same picture towards them.
Kevin nodded his head, and Russell extended a fist.
Serge bumped it, and the three headed into the tunnel.
Tuesday night, as twitter slowly emptied itself from antsyfrustrated bored and sleep deprived NBA followers waiting for a resolution from a 16 hour mediation session between the NBA and the NBPA dwindled down in numbers, there were two things going through my mind.
The first was Deep Purple’s April, a musical masterpiece of epic proportions, one that is so unique, so thrilling in such a versatile way, that even after investing a full 12 minutes of one’s life in order to hear it, one must hear it again.
The second was the need to write something about Chris Paul.
Paul had just recently been declared the 4th best player in the NBA by a 91 man ESPN panel that I was very fortunate to be a part of, and yet, between “LEBRICK BE THE CHOKEZ” exclamations and “KOBE AT #7?!?! WHAT??!!” cries, he somehow slipped beneath the internet radar. Meanwhile, I was but one day removed from my first live basketball game in approximately 5 months, where my one true love, Hapoel Jerusalem, prevailed over Bnei HaSharon/Herzelia in overtime. I had too many basketball feelings running through my veins, and too little basketball feelings running between my fingertips and my keyboard; at the same time, the world had too little Chris Paul in it. I had to rise to the challenge.
I then proceeded to stare at a blank Word document for what I hope but cannot promise was less than 5 hours. In the meantime, April’s 8 minute instrumental prefix bombarded my ear drums in the same way Paul’s dribbles bombard a parquet – deliberately, purposefully, waiting for me to break down so the final blow – the 4 minute lyrical portion – could land just in the right place.
Chris Paul And You
Never one to gloss over the less interesting bits of the human psyche (why do I love ice cream so much? Why did the 05-06 Nuggets appear in my dream last night? Do I really enjoy staying up until 8 A.M. to watch basketball during regular seasons or am I just a deeply disturbed human being?), and with an immense lump of writer’s block obstructing my view, my hopeful analysis of Chris Paul quickly turned into an analysis of the point guard through the lens of my failed writing. What makes Paul so hard to define? What is it about Paul’s dominance on the court that makes it impossible for me to get past my introduction? Will I be able to complete a third question without driving away my readers?
It’s impossible to isolate just what it is that makes Paul so special as a player, but if I had to start, it would be his physique. Old time purists and/or internet trolls will tell you that the ultimate basketball is built first and foremost on his skill – which Paul certainly has in bundles – but in a vertically defined game where the objective is to place things in a 10 foot hoop, the ability to use one’s body to reach said 10 foot hoop and prevent other people from doing so will always matter.
Of course, the last thing one can say about Paul is that he is vertically defined. Generously listed at an already miniscule 6’0″, with a body that I would probably declare pudgy if I hadn’t seen it produce some of the fastest sprints and direction changes that basketball can offer, to the untrained eye Paul looks like his place in the NBA is with me, behind a laptop, not on the court. And it is this similarity between Paul and Viewer Joe that makes him so easy to bond with.
Athletics are often designed as a display of superhumans with human emotions, offering us a way to live vicariously through them. Nowhere is this stronger than with Chris Paul. When LeBron James and Dwyane Wade trade blows as they abolish the big bad Celtics, we are entertained; when Chris Paul darts between Pau Gasol and Andrew Bynum for yet another impossible jumper amongst giants, we believe we can too. When we see Dirk Nowitzki rush off the court in tears, victorious at last, we are touched, but it’s hard for us to see ourselves in the shoes of a 7 foot German; when Paul intentionally misses a free throw in a high school game so he can finish the evening with 61 points – in honor of his 61 year old grandfather, brutally murdered only a few days before – we see ourselves in him, and we see our pain in his pain.
Chris Paul And Inspiration
The great thing about Chris Paul is that if indeed you try to play basketball vicariously through him, you will vicariously be really awesome at basketball. Because the second he steps on a basketball court, one understands just how athletic, how abnormal Chris Paul truly is, as the unimpressive build immediately transforms into a whirling daredevil of brilliance.
Paul’s athleticism is different from the James/Howard/Griffin/Rose oh-what’s-this-you-call-it-gravity-I-will-ignore-it-now-boom sort of jumpitude, but on a 2 dimensional plane, Paul is virtually unmatched. Already among the fastest players in the league end-to-end in an honest sprint, Paul adds a superhuman ability to change pace on the spot, to go with a low center of gravity that makes it virtually impossible for him to lose the ball or his balance. Keeping your dribble for 20 seconds despite being guarded by 3 people doesn’t get you into highlight reels, but it does lead to a wide open Willie Green, and even though he misses the layup that you perfectly placed in his lap, if he were to ever make it, the 2 points count just the same.
But Paul takes it a step further, exhibiting not only mind-blowing ability, but an extra-terrestrial brand of patience. Instinctively, if you have an elite point guard with unmatched speed, you would want to play a fast style of basketball that will enhance those advantages; and yet, the Hornets routinely play at an incredibly slow pace, because no matter how much Paul can squeeze out of a fastbreak, he can do that much more in a halfcourt game.
Back when Stephon Marbury and Allen Iverson were playing, their high assist numbers were often dismissed as byproducts of the two dribbling for 20 seconds, then either shooting or passing off. In Paul’s case, his 20 second dribbles are enhancers not for his own stats, but for those of his teammate’s. His control over the game is intrinsic, his steady hand all-encompassing. By being much faster than everyone else, somehow, Paul’s mind slows down. The Hornets’ continued brilliance in late game situations is the best possible example of this – at the time of utmost pressure, where even the greatest can lose their heads, Paul stays the course, leading to marvelous results. Chris Paul was put on this planet to run an offense, and nobody does it better.
Chris Paul And Knees
“Gray sky where it should be blue
Gray sky where I should see you”
Perhaps this section should have started this piece. Perhaps it should have ended this piece. Not knowing where to go, I stuck it smack-dab in the middle. But know that with Chris Paul, it all begins and it all ends with the knees. Those damn, meniscus-less knees.
Because when that knee acts up, the complete and total control supplied by the Wake Forest product’s mind can no longer be matched by his limbs, and the commands that shoot up his nervous system are either ignored or anticipated by an opposing player. Perhaps this is inevitable when you try to combine a body that is so normal with athletic qualities that are so great, but it pains the viewer no less.
Of course, even with his knee at its worst possible shape, Paul is still magnificent. But the difference is large enough to place Paul within striking range. And today’s NBA has enough players for whom allowing close range access is akin to suicide.
One of them is Derrick Rose, as described here by John Hollinger:
This could just be random, but given that (A) Paul has a bad knee, and (B) he visibly appeared to run out of gas as the grind of the regular season wore down, only to suddenly revive once he got some rest in the most spread-out playoff schedule, I think it’s pertinent. Paul played his best basketball in November and his PER steadily dropped from there; check out his splits. Most notable were the two late-season games against Memphis, which were crucial for playoff seeding but saw Paul muster only five points over the two games, including a bagel in the second one. Again, if you’re trying to decipher who’s better in October, six months after either played his last game, I think this is pertinent information in Rose’s favor.
If this Paul is the Paul you judge, then #4 is ridiculously high. But just as the low end of his splits condemn him, so is he elevated by numbers to begin the season – the Paul who refused to misplace a single shot or a single pass as the Hornets started the season on a ridiculous 11-1 rampage could stake his claim as better than #3 Dwyane Wade, perhaps even higher than the Dwights and the LeBrons. Basically, it’s a leap of faith – if you give his knees the benefit of the doubt, he really is that good, or even better.
After the Laker series? I’m willing to give him every benefit he wants.
Chris Paul And The Lakers
These playoffs were the year of Dirk Nowitzki’s triumph, of LeBron James’s defeat, of Dwyane Wade returning to front stage, of Derrick Rose and Kevin Durant breaking out, of the Memphis Grizzlies staking their claim. But what Chris Paul did way back in April was unparalleled in its force, ultimate proof that he who looks only for the end result will inevitably lose something on the way.
Ignore the fact that Trevor Ariza was his second best player, that Jarrett Jack and Willie Green played crunch time, that he somehow transformed Aaron Gray into a center that can hang with the Bynum-Gasol-Odom triumvirate. Ignore how a should-be sweep became a contested 6 game series. Ignore the 33-7-14-4 Game 1, the 27-13-15 Game 4, the 22-6.7-11.5 series averages, the 54.5-47.4-79.6 percentages. Ignore it all, and just look at every single link in this list. Or, if that’s too much for you, sum it up here:
I know. I know. It happened to me too. And I wondered why this was hard for me to verbalize.
Chris Paul And April
“Maybe once in a while
I’ll forget and I’ll smile
But then the feeling comes again
Of an April without end
Of an April as lonely as they come”
For Chris Paul, April is probably a sore subject. One of the most competitive players alive, Paul has played 4 playoff series in a 6 year career, winning only one. But in a team sport, we know better as to hold it against him. For Paul, April truly is as lonely as they come. The one year he was supplied with the tools to go far, he desecrated Dallas and just nearly got by the defending champion Spurs before they were just too much. Otherwise, it’s been pain and sadness.
And the worst part is, we may never see that version of Paul truly realized. Performances such as his Laker games come by few times in one’s life, and Paul got two of them in one series last year. Probability dictates that it will be a while before we see any living point guard produce an identical gem, be it Paul or anyone else, functional knees and everything.
But the insecurity around what should be one of the brightest futures in the basketball world shouldn’t diminish from what Paul has given us so far. Things that, in a perfect world, would end up being the first 6 years in the career of the best pure point guard ever, but in this flawed version, might just end up being the best 6 years in the career of one of the best pure point guards ever. Remember: it doesn’t take much for something to be good enough to hear again and again and again. Chris Paul has long passed that arbitrary threshold. Just rewind and re-watch.
Do you know what is really cool? Even though I can look at projectile motion and calculate optimal launch angles and stuff, I can’t really shoot any better than the average person. On the other hand, an NBA pro could take a shot from a whole bunch of different locations and make many of them. Some of these NBA players have no clue about projectile motion (although surely some do).
So, how do people make these types of shots? If you say “muscle memory” or something like that, I don’t like it. It could be muscle memory if they always shot from the same place with the same initial velocity and angle. But these players shoot all over the place. They jump and shoot. They move the side then shoot. Crazy.
The link above is to a fascinating look at the figuring out the optimal release angle and velocity for a jump shot. The quote is the author’s conclusion, and it’s a sound one: while math is helpful to a degree, its best use is by those who can calculate precise physics on a split-second basis. Trying to teach a player to actively think about the math behind shooting a basketball is akin to expecting a robotic cat to out-drink a real cat.
The coolest part, besides the ka-clompage, is that cats are hard-wired to calculate exactly when they can catch the most water. If they snap too soon, they’ll get just a drip, but if they wait too long, they’ll get a swallow of nothing, because the water will already be back in the bowl. Scientists actually made a robocat tongue machine to measure how fast a cat should lap to get the most water. But it was too late, because the cats were already lapping at that exact speed.
Maybe the cats are hard-wired, or maybe it’s a matter of trial and error. Either way, there’s something beautiful about nature providing the answers that science proves are the most efficient. For those players who make shots from all angles look unnaturally easy, that art comes from countless hours of practice. Ray Allen’s Terminator-like ability to replicate anything into which he can morph his form (as long as it’s the form of a jump shooting assassin), Dirk’s unorthodox go-to move, even Jason Kidd’s career-long evolution as a three-point shooter – all are artistic masterpieces honed over thousands of hours. While each is the personification of geometry each time they rise and fire, they have about as much use for math as your pets do for robotic drinking tutors.
Science has the explanation, but the act is in the art.
They probably didn’t miss much on Saturday; after all, it’s really a football town. People from all over the region live in Albany, New York, so all types of flags fly on Sundays. A few, mostly college kids from cities along I-90, are Bills fans. The rogue Patriots fan wears his jacket proudly and walks quickly, knowing that he is the enemy to everyone else. Most, though, are fans of the teams from the city – or from New Jersey, depending on how much snark you put in your delivery. The Capital District hosts the Giants for training camp – well, they do most years. This summer the Giants stayed away once the NFL resolved its lockout. Time constraints and logistics made it too difficult to reschedule. They’d be back next year, though. That’s what they said. That’s what they promised. Because the NFL had enough reasons to come together and detonate its labor impasse, no regular season games were lost. All was forgiven in Albany and across the nation before the first snap of the shortened preseason. If the Giants come back upstate next summer, so much the better. If they don’t, then people will be disappointed, but they’ll likely make the short trip to wherever camp is held in the future. They’re diehards. Even if it was just preseason training camp, Albany missed the Giants.
This past Saturday, an exhibition between the Celtics and Knicks was scheduled at the Times Union Center in downtown Albany. That game has long been canceled, of course, with the rest of the preseason slate. And while it would be easy to make the trite joke about no one caring about the event being scheduled, let alone being canceled, it’d be vacuous at best. True, Albany’s relationship with the NBA is analogous to Atlanta’s love for hockey. New York City has its reputation as the Mecca of basketball, and it seems well-deserved but, while only an hour and a half away, the state’s capital is far removed from that culture and appreciation for the beautiful game. Rarely did people wear basketball jerseys, and too often they bore purple and gold 24s when they did. Ask the cashier at the grocery store if he is a football fan and be considered a fool for even asking. Inquire about interest in the NBA and get the same reaction for a far different reason. It quickly got to the point that I stopped trying to talk about the league with my coworkers and neighbors.*
*Shammgod bless twitter.
Even in this basketball wasteland, however, there were those who cared. I worked across the street from an elementary school, and every weekday a group of three boys would come in, each dribbling a basketball and pouring sweat. They’d ask for a cup of ice water. That’s a seemingly simple request; in Arizona, where I’m from and where I’ve since returned, a place of business is required by law to give a person a glass of water if they have the capacity to do so. It’s a desert, so it makes sense. New York has no such law, so my employer asked that we charge 50 cents for a cup of ice water. Now, I consider myself a law-abiding citizen, but I decided to make up my own rule: if you could provide entertaining conversation or even just prove that you had learned some semblance of manners, water was free. And these three young men – all 11-13, all obsessed with basketball – offered some of the best hoops speak I had in my entire time in Albany. The pinnacle was when an older woman asked them who the best basketball player in the NBA was (during the peak of “Rose for MVP!” fever). Without a moment’s hesitation, the most vocal of the three answered, “LeBron James.”
Over the course of a few months, I met the father of one of the boys, a kind gentleman in his 60s named Mack (as far as I knew) who was in most days to buy lottery tickets. He was as proud of his son as could be and wouldn’t hesitate to remind you that his boy could only play basketball if his grades were good. When the end of the school year approached and his son was on the honor roll, I suggested the idea of buying tickets for the two of them to go see the Knicks and Celtics for the preseason. I let him know there was every possibility that the game would be lost due to the lockout, but Mack loved the idea and got courtside seats as soon as he knew that his money would be refunded if the game were to be canceled. The rest is sad, sad history.
I suppose I should feel bad for the Son of Mack.* He had the opportunity to see an NBA game when he was young, but it was taken from him by the lockout. The normal thing to do is probably to rip David Stern for shattering a young boy’s dreams, for taking away a father-son bonding event.
*Or MacMack in the Scottish naming pattern.
Like the tendency to say, “no one cares about the NBA,” though, that’d be the cop-out. I was still in Albany when Saturday’s game was canceled; I saw Mack and his son several more times before I left. Sure, they were disappointed, but life was going to go on just fine for them. The boy would keep studying and playing basketball. His dad would keep playing his numbers, keeping his son disciplined, and loving life. When the league came back – well, they wouldn’t be able to buy tickets at Madison Square Garden, but I told them a game in New Jersey could be pretty affordable and a lot of fun.
I can’t feel sorry for the two of them and MacMack’s two friends, then. They’ll get along fine without the league. But I do feel sorry for you, NBA. You lost your chance to hook them while they were young. For every international market you look into expanding, know that there are people here in the States who love your product but aren’t quite convinced. Those fans of the game who could become fans of the league are the lifeblood of our sports-based fanaticism. They keep fresh perspectives coming to the table. They buy jerseys. And they tell the old ladies of the world in measured, reasoned tones why LeBron James is the best player in the world.
They’ll move on happily enough without you, NBA. They’ve got football this Sunday, so don’t weep for them. Feel sorry for yourself instead.
There’s a world of difference in 3%. The lockout is an unfortunate illustration of how large a gap such a seemingly small sum can be, as 53% (or 47%, depending on one’s perspective) represents an impassable line in the sand, while 50% is the key to an 82-game paradise. School children in my hometown recently learned the importance of a few percentage points the hard way, as a change in the grading scale bumped the line below which a student is failing to 70% and the qualification for an A to 94% or higher – the latter decision generating a far larger front of parental frustration. For those children at the very bottom and very top, what was passable or extraordinary yesterday is damnable or above-average today.
3% has the potential to change the way some view Amar’e Stoudemire as well. Though his spectacular offensive performance during the first half of last season sowed the seeds of premature MVP speculation, the Knicks’ regression to the mean – even after acquiring Carmelo Anthony – and subsequent injuries to Stoudemire and Chauncey Billups during their first round flame-out against the Celtics gave rise to a tide of criticism against Stoudemire, Anthony and the defensive mentality of New York under coach Mike D’Antoni. The sun-baked cauldron of basketball discussion turned hot to the touch by the lockout drought kept the fire lit under the questioning of the Knicks until the recent rash of player rankings once again stirred the pot on how properly rated these superstars really are.
While Anthony’s lackadaisical effort on defense and his reaction to that perception are well documented of late, the idea that Stoudemire is overrated has gone largely overlooked – until our lovely editor, Mr. Moore, decided to open the floodgates on twitter yesterday by questioning why some people view offensive production along a spectrum (great players, good, decent, below-average, bad, awful, etc.) while a player tends to either be a passable defender, a man capable of stopping an alien invasion with his bare hands – so long as the aliens can be defeated by suffocating ball denial – or such a saloon door that his only purpose for existence is to give John Wayne something cool through which to enter a room. One innocuous comment later – about how the difference between a “terrible” rebounder such as Stoudemire and a great rebounder is really only two rebounds per game – and the contretemps threatened to become a kerfuffle.
Stoudemire's a "terrible" rebounder at 7.8, basically 8 grabs a game. He snags two more and he's a double-double machine. Crazy.
The fact that a 22% increase in total rebounds is all that separates the worst rebounding power forward ever in history because he is just the worst from the double-stuffed legends of yore is a valid point, but it could use a bit of context. We all know that the Knicks play at a faster pace than most teams in the league (97.8 possessions per game last year according to HoopData.com, 4th fastest). More importantly, New York, due to differences in pace, turnover rate, free throw rate and percentage, and field goal percentage, sees almost four more total rebound opportunities per game than the average team. With Stoudemire on the floor for 76.6% of the team’s minutes in games in which he played, he sees three more rebound opportunities than someone playing comparable minutes on a league average team. Josh Smith outrebounded Stoudemire by .3 boards per game, but Smith’s rebound rate was 2.3% higher. Atlanta played at a below-average pace and Smith played less than Stoudemire per game, so Smith saw less rebounding opportunities.
That’s all of the obvious, “‘Advanced’ Stats 101″ stuff. The interesting tidbit is the intersection between a simple, honest defense of Stoudemire’s rebounding – while he’s not the best, he’s more than passable, and if he grabbed just two more rebounds a game, he’d be a double-double monster – and a quantitative-based plea to help the Knicks in more ways than simply on the offensive end. Frankly, he’s not doing that as often as he has in the past. Throwing out 2005-06 when he missed all but a handful of games due to injury, Stoudemire has made a living in his career by owning the paint on offense. The percentage of his shots taken from the inside (per 82games.com) hadn’t dipped lower than 45% in 2008-09 and bounced back to 49% in 2009-10. Last year, though, the bread and butter vanished in some sort of biscuit-related shenanigans; Stoudemire took only 34% of his shots from the inside. It showed, too, as he posted the lowest TS% of his career, a full 5% below his previous low. There was a noticeable increase in his assist rate, so some of that decrease in post presence may have been by design, but it is a drastic reduction in performace in Stoudemire’s most effective area.
If the Knicks are going to take away from Stoudemire’s effectiveness as they try to build a new binary star system on offense, he must find other areas in which to produce. Much of the criticism of Stoudemire depends on asking for more effort on the defensive end and on the glass. If that’s fair – and that’s debatable – how much harder are people asking him to try? Can you put a number on what it means to go from terrible to elite?
It turns out that all we’re really asking for, if you want a little respect, is 3% more. With the 32.54 offensive rebound opportunities and 31.91 defensive Stoudemire saw on average last year, a 3% higher defensive rebounding rate (from 17.6% last year to 20.6%) combined with grabbing 2.2% more of the available offensive rebounds (from 7.8% to 10%) would result in Stoudemire becoming a top 10 rebounder for his position. He’d average 9.8 boards per game. The impact on the team would be significant as well; assuming that 66% of the additional boards would otherwise have gone to the other team (a conservative assumption), the Knicks would move from 24th (24.25%) to 19th (25.70%) in team offensive rebound rate. Their opponent’s average ORR would improve from 26th worst in the league (28.07% allowed) to 16th (26.09%). A sizable -3.82 ORR discrepancy would become a much more manageable -.39.
Rebounding on the offensive end may be of particular importance. New York ranked 2nd last year in percentage of field goal attempts from beyond the arc. The Knicks shot decently well from downtown – they posted an above-average eFG% - but they missed a higher percentage of total field goal attempts than the league average because of their reliance on the three and as a result allowed more rebounding opportunities per possession than most teams on that end of the court. Any contributions by Stoudemire toward maintaining possession for New York’s outside shooters can lessen the impact of his decreased presence in the paint, if in fact that trend continues.
The takeaway from all of this is the importance of the sum of the minute details that transpire on every trip down the court. That 3% increase in rebounding production amounts to a little less than one one-hundredth of a rebounding opportunity per possession going Stoudemire’s way instead of into the hands of any other player. It’s a matter of 3 inches at most on every single play, an intricate movement of mountainous parts crashing into each other in a game predicated on the preciousness of real estate. Every inch has its meaning and its value; finding that space and using it to maximum effectiveness is one of the most beautiful parts of the game.
Perhaps rebounding has been de-emphasized to Stoudemire. It is true that many of his teammates are among the best at their positions in rebounding, but the team still ranks in the bottom half of the league in total rebounding rate. Taken with the team’s inability to stop anyone on defense from any range, the importance of improvements in rebounding for New York cannot be overstated. Stoudemire has performed at a better rate before, if not an elite level – a 9.7% ORR in 2009-10, 10.1% in 2006-07; over 20% DRR in 2006-07 and 2007-2008. If he can do it again, maybe next year we’ll have a more intelligent discussion about his shortcomings.
Since it’s looking less and less like a season (How u), I’ve decided to dive deeper into denial and continue to write as if the lockout didn’t exist (if this is at all confusing please refer to part 1).
The Curious Case of Rajon Rondo
What exactly are we to make of Rajon Rondo? During the 2010 playoffs and the first half of last season, he was arguably the best point guard in the world. Then for whatever reason (emotional injury, real injury, loss of a solid screen setter, defensive adjustments, or regression to the mean), during the second half of the year, Rondo became an impotent, ineffective version of himself. Rondo regained some of his, “I can affect the game in more ways than any other point guard” magic during the Knicks’ series, but he was mostly ineffective against the Heat (even before Dwyane Wade obliterated his elbow. I’m kidding Heat fans; obviously, Dwyane is a saint).
Rondo has become a source of both joy and frustration for me and Celtics fans. When he’s at his best, he’s a basketball maestro, using his own movement to create passing lanes, while simultaneously employing his massive wingspan and inhumanly large hands to torture defenders with an impressive array of fakes and dribble moves. However, too often last season, that version of Rondo was either barely visible or altogether missing. In order for the Celtics to have a shot at one last title, Rondo needs to find a way to play at a high level more consistently. I’m not sure how he can make that happen. I’m not sure anyone knows, Doc Rivers included.
Rondo has always been a bit of mystery. It’s an integral part of his unique style. Still, if he wants to be considered one of the top players in the league, his great play needs to feel a little less ethereal and elusive, and more material and reliable.
A Blazer’s Fan Roots For Z-Bo
Zach Randolph isn’t exactly a celebrated figure in Portland. In many ways, he was the embodiment of an era in Blazer’s history that fans would like to forget. One of my favorite memories from attending Blazer’s games consists of Z-Bo heaving a shot from the three-quarter court with about 5 seconds left on the game clock, and then proceeding to slap himself on the head after realizing his mistake. It was equal parts awesome and sad. His off the court transgressions, and perceived lack of effort and poor attitude served as fuel to an already raging fire (of fan discontent) (remember we’re dealing with Portland fans here) that would ultimately lead to Zach being run out of town. His experience was just another chapter in the The Blazers’ odd history with talented but misunderstood power forwards.
At the time, I held a lot of resentment towards Zach. I felt like he had been a degenerative force on our team. He was supposed to be the “leader”, and during his time in Portland, the team did nothing but disappoint. However, his recent success in Memphis has turned me into an unapologetic Zach Randolph fan. I love how hard he’s worked, and how he’s been an integral part of the transformation of the culture in Memphis. It was fun seeing him become the most dominant power forward not named Dirk Nowitzki.
Rooting for Zach Randolph forced me to re-examine my preconceived notions about Zach’s tenure for the Blazers. Everything that transpired wasn’t his fault. Did he do some colossally stupid things? Absolutely. But he was generally loved by his teammates and for the must part, he was putting in enough effort to generate wins; the team just wasn’t very good. It can be frustrating to see guys like Zach move on from the franchise you love only to find success elsewhere. Still, as fans, it’s a lot more fun to root for these guys rather than resent them.
Kevin Durant’s Kevin Durant Problem
Throughout the 2011 playoffs, one of the most consistent, ever present issues was Russell Westbrook’s supposed sabotage of Kevin Durant and the Thunder. Westbrook was “ruining the offense”, taking stupid shots, and refusing to give the ball to Kevin Durant. While the criticism was valid, it also ignored a lot of important context and absolved other important contributors of any blame. Certainly Scott Brooks also deserved his fair share of admonition for diagramming failed sidelines out of bounds play after failed sideline out of bounds play. More importantly, there is one individual who was as much, if not more, a part of the problem as Russell Westbrook, Kevin Durant.
Now I know what you’re thinking: No not Kevin Durant! He’s the Golden Boy. He’s so humble he would have never left Cleveland like LeBron did! Yes, I understand Kevin Durant is an incredible basketball player and an awesome person (it’s rumored that he spends his free time rescuing puppies and kittens. This rumor is of course unsubstantiated.) However, there are flaws in his game that cause problems for the Thunder’s offense.
His biggest issues remain his lack of strength and inability to get free from physical ball denials. Late in games, Durant gets pushed so far away from the basket that he puts himself and his team at a huge disadvantage. (Seriously, go watch tape of Carmelo establishing position, then watch video of Durant and tell me that off ball positioning isn’t absolutely vital to late game success). Many of Westbrook’s “forced” shots and bad decisions came because the Thunder would run a set for Durant, only to have him catch the ball 30+ feet away, take a couple aimless dribbles, and hurriedly force it back to Westbrook, leaving Westbrook to take a bad shot and the brunt of the blame.
Kevin Durant is still the best player on the Thunder, and Westbrook does deserve criticism for some poor shot selection and his frequent inability to take care of the ball. However, to place sole responsibility for the Thunder’s offensive woes on Westbrook is simply incorrect. Let’s not focus on Kevin Durant’s “Russell Westbrook problem”. Russell is way more of a plus than a minus. Kevin Durant should instead focus on Kevin Durant, and so should we.
