Photo by nathanwells on Flickr.

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The lockout has lifted, we have a season, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) And in the spirit of renewal, our shiny new cadre of writers is putting together previews for all 30 teams in true HP style. From where teams are going to what their disgrace is to explorations of pop culture, we are about to rock, salute us, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) So sit back, relax, and ponder the awesomeness of this fully operational Hardwood Paroxysm 3.0. -Ed. 

Photo from benheine via Flickr

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The lockout has lifted, we have a season, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) And in the spirit of renewal, our shiny new cadre of writers is putting together previews for all 30 teams in true HP style. From where teams are going to what their disgrace is to explorations of pop culture, we are about to rock, salute us, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) So sit back, relax, and ponder the awesomeness of this fully operational Hardwood Paroxysm 3.0. -Ed. 

QUO VADIMUS (WHERE ARE WE GOING?)

By Danny Chau

Most of us watch games intently – though some more so than others. For the most part, fans can suss out basic schemes of the offense and defense. A strong eye can see possible scenarios unfolding, and decide for ourselves where the best plan of attack lies. Then we a brilliant pass comes seemingly out of nowhere. We verbalize our acknowledgement of the play, of the genius in grunts and half-enunciated “Nice pass!” We can see plays unfold, but great passes cut through our projections like a literal Occam’s razor. Great passes find the simplest solution to the opposition’s puzzle, leaving the observer with little else to do but applaud and holler.

Minnesota will find out that game gets easier with a point guard capable of threading the needle. Passing begets more passing. Hands are quicker, more receptive. Reads are sharper. The kinetic energy transferred from pass to pass is forged into something altogether mystical, and when shared among all the players, becomes a unifying agent. It’s what we’ve seen in Steve Nash has done practically his entire career, what Rajon Rondo has done with the Celtics since 2008, what Chris Paul is soon to do for the Clippers.

Rick Adelman was brought in to add a “winning culture” to this struggling franchise, and it was perhaps the best decision the team made in the offseason. It’s important for a young team to understand the poise and attention to detail it takes to win games in late situations. The Wolves will win more games than they did last year, but it won’t be because of a “winning culture” – at least not yet. That takes time, and a shortened season doesn’t help in that regard.

It sounds like a copout, but the team will win more just by having fun. It sounds like puppy dog optimism, and maybe it is, but when you have a magician like Ricky Rubio capable of creating something out of impossible situations, you get fewer Michael Beasley 20-foot isolation jumpers from the corner. From what it sounds like, for Rubio, the pressure to succeed in Minnesota is different than the pressure that existed back in Europe. He is free to be a kid here – or at least exhibit it in play. The team will need time to immerse themselves in the infectious play that inherently forms in the presence of a sharp passer. The team will grow and learn to trust one another fully.

Imagine every possession as a potential fast break. Kevin Love corrals a rebound and makes a quick outlet to Rubio who is already darting down the court eyeing a cutting Derrick Williams, or a Wes Johnson situating himself on the baseline, ready to spot up. If the play collapses, the ball can swing around to the trailing Kevin Love for a three. These are plays and options that existed before, but it takes a player capable of breaking down the play into logical progressions. That’s what Rubio can do, and he’ll make the entire team a smarter, more reactive group.

The Wolves are going to be a ton of fun this year – as long as they make a pact never to let Anthony Randolph touch the ball ever.

LET’S START A CULT ABOUT: RICKY RUBIO

By Connor Huchton

What can we say about Ricky Rubio? Everything and nothing, all at once. He’s the embodiment of hope, detraction, and a franchise’s unknown future. But we’ve had years to hear about Rubio’s game, his superb court vision, his quick-minded defense, his underwhelming jump shot, and everything else that makes his play both amazing and questionable. But what Ricky Rubio has become in 2011, above all else, is an idea.

“I’ve hardly seen him play, but I can’t wait to watch him play again.”

When a player comes to symbolize an idea in the mind of a basketball fan, the stakes of emotion slowly rise.  To the lovers of unselfish point guard play, Ricky Rubio becomes the next great pure passer. But to most NBA fans, he becomes the great unknown, something distant that may never come. But now Rubio comes, bringing alley-oops and behind-the-back passes in tow.

“He’s actually coming over?”

The fear of likely failure often brings down great ideas, ideas that seems to stretch so high they can never truly be reached by mere human arms. Rubiocould fail becomes Rubio will fail and begets Rubio did fail. But that remains only a fringe possibility to the fan who believes in the idea Rubio brings, the simple notion of creative exceptionalism and collective identity change. They renounce doubters, and hope fervently Rubio vindicates the idea beyond the tangible on the very tangible basketball court.

Doubt accompanies all lofty ideas. It’s the same reasonable doubt that constantly stands up to scrutiny. The doubt shapes the perception of the idea, feeds against expectation, eats away with its logic and questions. It threatens the transcendental with something that can’t be decried as something simply from the “haters”: the rebuke of quite possible mediocrity.

“He’s supposed to do that, but he can’t even do this?”

Timberwolves’ fans have waited on the Great Rubio Hope for seemingly all of their basketball lives. In moments of franchise low and the toil of disgrace, Rubio was still waiting, only a year or two away, to save the franchise and invigorate fans with the hope for something different, something beyond what was faced in the present. In many ways, Rubio became part of that present franchise existence, the ever-present future for an organization that repeated the word aloud and with action at a constant pace.

“Rebuilding” is a term oft uttered by many small-market franchises in the contemporary NBA. It’s meant to evoke a sense of returned structure and a path towards legitimate relevancy. It rarely works in practice exactly as constructed, but it at least provides a construct to be slowly dismantled and ruptured. For the Timberwolves, Rubio may not only become the final piece in their construct of young talented players. He could serve as the player who forces the leap from rebuilding to competing.

There’s something about the transcendental point guard that evokes strong emotion and nostalgia in the mind of many basketball fans, myself included. The simple idea of the brilliant pass or crossover represents, in its most basic form, true basketball genius. It’s not that point guard is necessarily the most important position on the court; by most measures, it isn’t. But the impact point guard is highly visible, followed naturally by the eye at all times. The point guard controls perception, and thus is regarded with enormous respect if able to control the ball itself. This possession of the ball as the offense flows and the crowd waits for action allows for a keen moment when the brilliant flourish of a perfect entry pass or created open jumper may be recognized by any observer.

Therein lies the magic of Rubio’s arrival. He possesses these skills to a great extent according to the majority of evaluators, but little is known publicly of his actual play. Most perception of Rubio is created by YouTube highlights or reports of his difficulty in Spanish leagues, not actual understanding. Game tape on Rubio is not currently visible to most, and it never was. So the Rubio idea was easily planted, an idea based on the unknown and the magic of a brilliant passer.

I can’t tell you what Ricky Rubio will be in the NBA. Only Ricky Rubio can tell you that with his play, as he will very soon. He’ll move on the court, eyes always frontwards, searching for the moment when, not he, but another, is primed to strike a dagger into the heart of the defense. Early signs are encouraging, but the prognosis on Rubio’s future remains cloudy. Those clouds will soon depart, revealing the validity of an idea long ago believed and only recently understood. The hope, the unknown, and everything that Ricky Rubio represents will be laid bare before a screaming crowd.

The idea burns strong. Someday, that idea may act as only a chiding flicker. But it also may spark a blaze rarely seen by human eyes.

A BRIEF VIDEO INTERLUDE COURTESY OF HOOK

WILL YOU REMEMBER ME, I WILL REMEMBER YOU

By Andrew Lynch

Comparisons are rarely fair, though that doesn’t stop us from making them. One of the biggest stumbling blocks is differences in system.

Minnesota fans are nodding knowingly right now. Shammgod bless Kurt Rambis, but his version of the Triangle offense was to the Bulls and Lakers of the past two decades as one of those knock-off video game consoles designed to trick grandma around Christmas time is to a PS3. For the Timberwolves, 2011-12 amounts to upgrading from a PX-3600 to basically any other actual legitimate video gaming system ever created. Rick Adelman could have arrived in Minneapolis with a Virtual Boy under one arm and a broken XBox 360 under the other and Wolves fans would have reacted like they just got the Technodrome and the Ghostbusters car under the same yuletide tree. The games will be better, if for no other reason than that the system will actually be designed for the pieces present.

And, of course, we will remember Ricky Rubio. He, too, will herald the importance of system. Some of Rubio’s more vocal detractors point to his awful stat line in recent European competition as proof that his abilities won’t translate to the NBA. That might end up being true, but that argument ignores the way in which Rubio was used by his Spanish team. Given the opportunity to handle the ball and initiate the offense with weapons around him in a system that fits his talents, Rubio will thrive. Three pointers will flow like sangria (from everyone but Rubio, naturally), opponents will faint under the onslaught of Love outlets, and every game will end with both teams in triple digits. Finally, a Timberwolves season will pass without David Kahn being the most vibrant memory.

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The lockout has lifted, we have a season, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) And in the spirit of renewal, our shiny new cadre of writers is putting together previews for all 30 teams in true HP style. From where teams are going to what their disgrace is to explorations of pop culture, we are about to rock, salute us, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) So sit back, relax, and ponder the awesomeness of this fully operational Hardwood Paroxysm 3.0. -Ed.

Photo by shehal via Flickr

Quo Vadimus (Where Are We Going?)

by Andrew Lynch

For the next six months, no one in Phoenix is going anywhere, despite the desires of a majority of NBA fans. At this point, the Suns front office – which insists that they will not trade Steve Nash, and in fact are hoping to re-sign him at the end of the season – is holed up like an adorable British comedy troupe against a zombie horde pouring through the window. And for once, the zombies have nothing to do with Vince Carter. Much like the situation in Orlando, the outlook in Phoenix is rooted in how much longer the team’s linchpin will still be in town. And just like with the Magic, there is no clear right answer for the Suns when it comes to how to handle their star player.

At first glance, Nash made this incredibly easy for Phoenix by publicly acknowledging his affinity for the organization and the community alongside his appreciation for loyalty and his teammates. It’s likely true, however, that the best course of action is to trade the team’s best player – not out of some misguided sense of obligation or to facilitate Nash getting a ring, but to get out of “can we get the 8th seed?” limbo. That represents a best-case scenario this year, if everyone stays healthy, Marcin Gortat and Jared Dudley continue to develop and improve, and no one else regresses any further. And with Nash and Grant Hill in the starting lineup and carrying a heavy load for a team whose depth gives new meaning to the phrase “replacement level,” health can’t be taken for granted – even with the Warlocks omnipresent and omnipotent.

I’ve argued in the past that many fans in Phoenix are okay with not competing for a title every year, so long as the team is entertaining. But that balance is predicated on the idea that the Suns can at least compete for the Western Conference Finals if everything falls into place. When that goal is clearly out of reach, it’s best to blow things up and start all over. It’s not that Nash deserves better than this – the Suns do, too. NBA Purgatory isn’t entertaining, no matter how many times Nash and company take our breath away.

Popular Theories In Emerging Basketball-Cultural Cross-References: The Frolar Eclipse

by Curtis Harris

Before you read any further, press play on the video below, youngblood. It’ll make mentally concise all the heaviness I’m trying to lay on you.

Truck Turner’s Travel Jive Dictionary defines a “frolar eclipse” as “a phenomenon caused by the total or partial obscuring of the sun by a particularly fly blow-out.” Brothers and sisters, the Suns of Phoenix have got themselves one slick, stone cold mutha with an afro that eclipses our celestial, solar fireball from here to Soulsville. Sure, sunlight is cool, but it ain’t no drag being in the shade of a towering monument to the power of soul. That Josh Childress has an afro that’s sho nuff clean and so far outta sight it’s like trying to look before you can see. It’s such a gasss you could reanimate James Brown’s corpse from its energy.

May Soul Brother #1 rest in peace.

Childress’ opulent and glamorous ‘do ain’t the least bit tired or prone to usurpation by suckas. Ain’t ever been a jive turkey able to bust loose with a follicle masterpiece such as that. Its spherical perfection is second only to the sight of Julius Erving glidin’ and his afro profilin’ while he flew to the basket back in ’77.

Now on the flip side, that sucka Childress ain’t done a damn thing since splittin’ Atlanta a few years ago.  If you wanna see the bottom of something fall out, just peep the sorry free throw percentage he had shooting the rock. Down to forty-nine point two from eighty point seven, this cat’s free throw shootin’ horrified all the angels in heaven. I hope this  papa ain’t pay for the brand new bag of game he’s holding now. It’s more of a mess than Carl Lewis tryin’ to sing. If he keeps up with that same ol’ same ol’ jive time ballin’ he had last year, that fool gonna find himself washed up in a hot minute.

He can keep on keepin’ on with that fro, though. He’s playin’ awful but he’s lookin’ pretty clean doin’ it.

Video Interlude: A Look Inside Running the Suns

by Curtis Harris

Steve Nash is Frank Grimes. Robert Sarver is Homer Simpson. The erlenmeyer flask full sulfuric acid is Sarver attempting to trade Marcin Gortat for three future 2nd round picks. Sadly, Nash undergoes this exercise about 5 times a month until the trade deadline.

Who Wants to Start a Cult About Shannon Brown?

by Curtis Harris

Is there anything this man can’t do?

When you think of people who marry up, Brown has to be high on that list by virtue of marrying RnB singer Monica. Sure she hasn’t had a hit a years, but that’s quite a conversation starter at cocktail parties! On the court, Mr. Brown just shimmies and shakes and throws down with the best of them. The kid can flat out dunk. He must have flubber adhered to the soles of his shoes. And his free throw shooting is some of the best you’ll ever see. When the game is on the line, you want Shannon stepping up to the line to hit those freebies.

Wait, what’s that? You say he can’t dribble? Hmm, I guess that is sort of a problem for a guard. But his free throw shooting surely translates to a pure stroke in other situations. What’s that? It doesn’t? Oh dear. You mean he’s a shooting guard who can’t shoot? Or worse a SG converted into a PG? At least Phoenix signed him for a minimum contra…. HE SIGNED FOR $3.5 MILLION?!

Dandy. Just dandy. We went from the happiness of dancing clowns to an inferno of disappointment. Put down the Kool-Aid. The Shannon Brown Cult stinks.

Will You Remember Me, I Will Remember You

by Amina Vafa

The “Setting Suns” headline will be bandied about a lot this season, especially towards its end, when it is more certain that this Suns team won’t make the playoffs. They made a few changes in the offseason that were supposed to help boost the defense: a new defensive-minded assistant coach (Elston Turner) and the re-signing of Grant Hill. They’ve added depth at the forward (Markieff Morris) and guard (Bassy Telfair and Shannon Brown) positions, but come June, we’ll remember the Suns less for what they did (or didn’t accomplish) in this shortened season, and more for what their playoff-less summer will hold: franchise-altering uncertainty.

With the Clippers on the rise and the Suns not making the playoffs last year, it’s going to be difficult to imagine this team in the postseason. A shame, considering it could be Steve Nash’s last–at least his last in Phoenix. This is the last year of his contract. Fifteen year veteran and face of the franchise Steve Nash.

I’m not really thinking about it… I just want to try to make this team into a playoff team. At this stage of my career, I’m not thinking about tomorrow. I’m just thinking about today.

- Steve Nash

Even if you’re not thinking about it, Steve, we all are. And we will be from now through next summer, when your fate will be more certain. If the Suns are teetering on a playoff spot at the end of the season, your career legacy will be all the more highlighted: “Sunset for Steve?” they’ll ask. Maybe, maybe not. But thanks to the free agency movement of the past two years, the lack of Hall of Fame PGs in NY and Miami, your relationship with D’Antoni & Amare, and the fact that you haven’t won a title in your career…people will want to know where you’re going. Will you retire? Or will you move to a city where you’ll put a contending team over the top? Will you get that ever-elusive ring? Will you measure your legacy differently if you don’t? Will we?

If you weren’t a household name before, you sure as hell will be by July. I don’t think you’ll need a primetime special to let us know what you’re doing, Steve, but if you did, I’d watch.

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The lockout has lifted, we have a season, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) And in the spirit of renewal, our shiny new cadre of writers is putting together previews for all 30 teams in true HP style. From where teams are going to what their disgrace is to explorations of pop culture, we are about to rock, salute us, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) So sit back, relax, and ponder the awesomeness of this fully operational Hardwood Paroxysm 3.0. -Ed.

Photo by FurryScalyMan on Flickr

Quo Vadimus (Where Are We Going?)

By Danny Chau

The Hawks will go wherever Josh Smith takes them.

Wait, what?

The Hawks will go wherever Josh Smith takes them.

Al Horford is their best player, Joe Johnson is their most experienced leader, and Jeff Teague is their brightest glimmer of sunshine. But they don’t matter as much as Smith, because everyone else on the roster is safe. With the snap of a finger, Josh Smith could be traded. Teams would bend over backwards to obtain a player with his superior size, athleticism, defensive ability, playmaking ability, and post skills still in his mid-20s. Now if you close your eyes and let all of those traits swirl around in your head, you have a damn-near-perfect player. The problem is, if you’ve ever watch Josh Smith play outside of the five-minute YouTube mixes, you’ll know that he can go entire quarters without exhibiting any (ANY!) of those traits.

He’s 6’9”, 250 with the Hulk’s leaping ability and yet he isn’t above airballing runners in the lane. He has the speed, the nimbleness, and the footwork (learned from the best there is in Hakeem Olajuwon) to be a completely dominant post scorer, but he is eerily content with firing long range two-pointers. Oh sure, he eliminated the three-pointer from his game a few years back. That doesn’t do you any favors if you replace that shot with one that is equally as ineffective AND doesn’t net you as many points. The three-point shot may be poisonous for guys like Smith, but at least it’s seductive. The long two is just paint in a brown bag. The benefits are scant, and you look stupid doing it.

Hardwood Paroxysm has always found inspiration in the hyper-athletic big man. They hold a world of potential, and only a handful actually become something worth admiring. But that’s okay. The pro game is hard, and there is more to basketball than running and jumping and having telephone poles as arms. Some never develop the skills they need to ascend. That isn’t Josh Smith. He has all the tools and all the skills. He knows how effective he is in the paint. He knows how good of a passer he can be. He knows how to play team-oriented defense without sacrificing animalistic intensity.

When it all comes together, we get Game 4 of last season’s second round matchup with the Chicago Bulls. But we don’t get it enough. To see his percentages dip into the 20 and 30 percents is infuriating. It’s inexplicable. It needs to be met with a swift death. Because the Hawks don’t have a lot of time. You can only boil molasses for so long before it becomes inedible carbon.

And that’s why Jeff Teague has become such a darling, and why we’re all eager to see him revitalize this team. Because he’s actually willing to penetrate the defense. Because his runners and floaters actually go in. Because last season, he wasn’t safe. He played like he didn’t know when his next large dosage of playing time would come. That’s refreshing to see from a team with so much talent squandered by long twos.

It’s time for Josh Smith to do the same. Smith isn’t safe anymore. If he doesn’t find some consistency to his game and realize what it is that makes him such an incredibly unique player, he’ll be shipped as soon as March. You have this season to figure it out, Josh. Whatever happens, just know: the Hawks go where you take them.

THE DISGRACE

by Amin Vafa

You know what sucks about Atlanta? Everything. And Nothing. That’s just it: you can’t predict what the Hawks will or won’t do. You never know what to expect when you see them on the court. Will Josh Smith take a three-pointer with twenty seconds left on the shotclock, or will he keep LeBron from scoring more than ten points? They have a lot of talent, so you know they’ll make the playoffs (especially in the Eastern Conference, where it’s often hard to fill all eight spots on the bracket). But what do you have going forward? A massive Joe Johnson contract, a failed sale in the offseason, an almost-palpable apathy from everyone but almighty Al Horford. But this team has talent. Lots and lots of raw talent. So basically what you have in Atlanta is a roster with tons of raw talent, an immobile franchise-player-level contract, and erratic energy that will most certainly play the ugliest two rounds of playoff basketball you’ve ever seen (this coming year and in years past). But at least they figured out you could beat the Magic by playing well against every position and going one-on-one against Dwight with a Collins (any ol’ Collins will do). A lot of good that’ll do them when they’re not facing Dwight a guaranteed four times per year after this year.

POPULAR THEORIES IN EMERGING BASKETBALL-CULTURAL CROSS-REFERENCES

by Amin Vafa

Ludacris! Season-ticket owner of the Atlanta Hawks! Maybe they should sign him to play a few minutes every night instead of T-Mac  and Jannero Pargo.

Let’s Start A Cult About: Jeff Teague

By James Herbert

Danny already said it up there. We love Jeff Teague because he’s not safe. We’d start a cult about Teague because, on a team we’re not particularly excited about, he gives us a reason to tune in. He’s extraordinarily quick, he’s actually drives to the basket, he plays defense, and, unlike the rest of the Hawks roster, we’re not sure where his ceiling is.

Heading into the second round of the 2011 playoffs, it was hard to say anything definitive about Teague’s prospects as an NBA player. He’d played aggressive D in limited time, but he’d never been given the keys to the offense. This could be called completely insane when, for a while, his only competition was Mike Bibby, but his performance in those spot minutes only hinted that he needed a bigger role. They didn’t demand one. We could see that he had potential if he could improve his decision-making, but perhaps because he was on such a short leash, he didn’t look like the same player he was at Wake Forest.

You know what happened in the Bulls series. Against the best defense in the league, our hero broke out. With Kirk Hinrich hurt, his play was imbued with the confidence of ten Nick Van Exels. Fearless, he got into the middle of the paint with ease, finished near-impossible shots, and gave Hawks fans hope. All we could do was watch in awe and then write songs about it. And come up with puns.

Teague’s emergence made the Hawks interesting in May. Now it’s December and the biggest question surrounding them is if he’ll pick up where he left off. The Cult of Jeff Teague believes he will.

WILL YOU REMEMBER ME I WILL REMEMBER YOU

by Amin Vafa

In June, we’ll remember the Hawks the exact same way we’ve remembered them every offseason since they unexpectedly took Boston to seven games in 2008’s first round of the playoffs: full of potential, but not capitalizing on it. Atlanta needs a major roster shakeup. They need to unload their contracts and start over. Trade Josh Smith to a team that needs a scoring PF. Trade JJ to a team that needs a reliable SG, but doesn’t need him to be the centerpiece. Or amnesty his giant contract so you can both move on. Keep Teague, clear the cap, stockpile picks, and move forward. Move on with your life. Playoff basketball is fun, but this “well I guess a 4-seed is cool, but they’re not going to ever win a championship” thing is just a tease.

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The lockout has lifted, we have a season, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) And in the spirit of renewal, our shiny new cadre of writers is putting together previews for all 30 teams in true HP style. From where teams are going to what their disgrace is to explorations of pop culture, we are about to rock, salute us, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) So sit back, relax, and ponder the awesomeness of this fully operational Hardwood Paroxysm 3.0. -Ed.

Quo Vadimus (Where Are We Going?)

By Andrew Lynch

The Bucks are trending toward mediocrity, and that’s a very, very good thing. Last year they were downright awful; there were worse teams in the league, to be sure, but few were harder to watch. Defense can be beautiful - the way that the Bulls play defense, starters and reserves alike, is a joy – and Milwaukee under Scott Skiles is among the league’s best on that end of the floor. When Andrew Bogut is healthy (as he should be this season if there’s any justice in this world), the team is downright scary: the most common Bucks lineup last season allowed a hair over one point per possession, per basketball-value.com.

Unfortunately, the team was equally as frightening on the offensive end – that same lineup scored at the same efficiency that they allowed. Brandon Jennings takes the brunt of the offensive criticism, and with good reason. For all of Rajon Rondo’s well-known struggles shooting the ball from the field and at the line, Jennings’ TS% is even worse. But he’s hardly the lone culprit; Bucks opponents shot the sixth worst eFG% in 2010-11, yet Milwaukee’s eFG% difference was negative because they were the worst shooting team in the league.

With a healthy Andrew Bogut and better offensive execution, though, the Bucks can creep toward the edge of the playoff field in the east. The additions of Stephen Jackson and Mike Dunleavy have flown fairly far under the radar this offseason, but they should help shore up the offense without threatening the defensive stability. Expect Jennings to improve his efficiency and to develop at least some semblance of a pick-and-roll threat with Bogut. The Bucks won’t blow anyone away this season – hell, they may barely be watchable for most of it. Being palatable, though, is a huge step forward.

Who Wants To Start A Cult Mbout: Mbah a Moute

by Matt Moore

I’m not sure if Luc Richard Mbah a Moute would be so awesome if he were actually appreciated. The fact that he’s forced to share the frontcourt with the ever-bulging butter-fat pack the Bucks keep adding to makes his appearance significantly more interesting. He just kind of appears randomly. Sometimes he starts, sometimes he doesn’t, sometimes he plays a lot, sometimes Drew Gooden takes 15 shots a game.

But LRMM is still the kind of player that inspires cultish action. Iconic without being specific, entertaining without really making much sense. Not good enough to be a star, but still boosted by compliments of his defensive greatness. Marginally efficient, defensively stout, long and athletic while primarily using a high basketball IQ. Good God, he’s like the golden calf of the blogger generation.

Now he’s gotten paid and will likely wind up as “why does that guy make so much money” like everyone does. But in the meantime, enjoy the soothing sounds of the LRMM Cult, which offers you eternal glory, as long as you’re not looking to get significant minutes.

Will You Remember Me, I Will Remember You

by Clint Peterson

Squiggy: [To Shirley] What do you say we go to the drive-in, and you let me run amuck?

Laverne: He probably heard what a fun date you are.

Shirley: I know I’m fun…

Squiggy: You people make me stink!

Lenny: I saw it with my own two eyes. I had to choke back a blush!

Shirley: It’s different for you. You don’t have a reputation to protect.

Squiggy: What are you talking about, Shirley? For the first time in my life, I got a reputation!

That reputation being, as Andrew noted, a plodding, lackluster offense, a veritable sack lunch in the company cafeteria in a 5-star wine ‘em dine ‘em NBA world where offense is sexy and points-per-game are at all-time highs, league-wide. You’d be more likely to be Scared of Squiggy than fearing of these deer on the offensive end of the floor. Indeed, the Bucks run of failing to average 100 PPG for a season is two years longer than the entire TV run of Schlemiel! Schlimazel! Hasenpfeffer Incorporated.

The addition of speedster Beno Udrih, one of only a handful of guards to pop 50% of his field goals last season, doubles up the number of players on the roster that sunk at least half of their tries from the field last year. The onus is on Scott Skiles to insert him into the proper place for an injection of offense as needed at the PG or SG, especially if Stephen Jackson is in his own personal hero mode.

Should Skiles wield his bottle opener properly when it comes to Beno the Bucks’ locker room could well be covered in plastic come spring with a celebratory playoff berth drenched in a several cases of Shotz Beer.

VETOED! How ya like them bananas. Via The Japing Ape

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The lockout has lifted, we have a season, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) And in the spirit of renewal, our shiny new cadre of writers is putting together previews for all 30 teams in true HP style. From where teams are going to what their disgrace is to explorations of pop culture, we are about to rock, salute us, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) So sit back, relax, and ponder the awesomeness of this fully operational Hardwood Paroxysm 3.0. -Ed.

Quo Vadimus (Where Are We Going?)

by Curtis Harris

“It was the best of times, it was the BLURST of times?!”

That pretty much sums up the state of the New Orleans Hornets. It certainly was the best of times. The NBA is currently being dominated by PGs in a way never seen before and the Hornets had the best of the bunch. Chris Paul orchestrates an offense beautifully and efficiently. Steve Nash can certainly conduct magnificent offenses, but his concertos are free-flowing and egalitarian. Paul’s are dictatorial marches. It’s like Joseph Stalin’s 5-Year Plans done a) competently and b) on the basketball court. But now CP3 is gone and New Orleans is picking up the pieces.

They are now in the BLURST of times. Things are too muddled and confused to be the worst. There was the week-long national crisis where David Stern held everyone hostage and Ted Koppel contemplated coming out of retirement to cover the circus. That particular situation was resolved and New Orleans obtained about as good a deal as possible, but the Sword of Sternicles hangs over the franchise still. Until an owner comes in and assumes control of the franchise, the situation will be BLURST.

But hope shines through, even during the darkest hour. Chris Kaman, Eric Gordon and Al-Farouq Aminu looked about as chipper as the newest inmates in Cell Block #9, but Gordon’s a young stud and a certain building block toward contention. Aminu could turn into a serviceable starting SF. And Kaman is a gargantuan expiring contract that at worst just eases salary obligations at season’s end or at best can be flipped for further young talent.

The rest of the roster is solid, if unremarkable, with Jarrett Jack and Emeka Okafor or just plain unremarkable: Marco Belinelli , Trevor Ariza, etc. If they play over their heads, this team can challenge for a playoff spot. If they play in their heads, they’re in the lottery top 10. If they play under (i.e. tank job), then they’re getting a top 5 pick.

And that may not be all that bad in this upcoming plump draft. The juiciest plum picked from the CP3 trade harvest is Minnesota’s draft pick in 2012. The Wolves will be improved but not enough to get that pick out of the top 5. So that could potentially be two top 5 picks in this draft that is supposedly stacked like a bad mama jama. If done right, this could be one of the quicker rebuilding jobs in recent NBA memory.

"Crockie!" A prescient pet nickname? Hmm...

Just hang on in there NOLA. The BLURST don’t last forever.

Let’s Start A Cult About: Chris Kajun

by Clint Peterson

Was ever there another player more suited to a wilderness swampland than Chris Caiman…er, Kaman? He’s tailor-made to don some muckboots and a crossbow and go sloshing through Cajun country in search of bigger and better pet snakes and such.

Altogether now, let’s Google results for “crawfish boil.” He does realize that in Louisiana the prey bites back, doesn’t he?

If Chris Kajun somehow survives trading his convoy of monster trucks for air boats and swamp buggies, I fully expect his career to wrap up in Australia’s NBL. The BatManu gots nothin’ on Chris Kajun.

 All we need now is a Dwayne Schintzius comeback so we can have that Joe Dirt-esque Chris Kajun reality show moment we all crave.

Author/Editor’s note: A few days after Chris tweeted about catching the snake I asked him what was going on with it. He said he’d released it back into the wild after it wouldn’t feed. So back off, PETA.

Popular Theories In Emerging Basketball-Cultural Cross-References

by Amin Vafa

Whoa. Wait. I thought we’d seen this already. A franchise player, frustrated with the direction of his team, asks to be traded to a contender–or even just a larger market. No really, I could have sworn I’d seen this before.

Via Cheezburger.com

 Oooooooh yeeeeaaaaahhhh!

A Brief Video Interlude

by Clint Peterson

This team is so much fun that if it ever gets contracted David Stern is gonna know where one more of “the bodies are buried” are. Props, New Orleans, for reaching your goal of 10,000 season tickets sold. We got your back.

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The lockout has lifted, we have a season, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) And in the spirit of renewal, our shiny new cadre of writers is putting together previews for all 30 teams in true HP style. From where teams are going to what their disgrace is to explorations of pop culture, we are about to rock, salute us, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) So sit back, relax, and ponder the awesomeness of this fully operational Hardwood Paroxysm 3.0. -Ed.

Quo Vadimus (Where Are We Going?)

by Connor Huchton

There are almost too many things to say about the reinvented 2010-2011 Clippers, but not enough words in existence to bring these tangential thoughts into eloquent and literal form. They are the new NBA excitement, the forthcoming unknown, and already too much fun.

After the Clippers traded for Chris Paul (losing Eric Gordon and a 2012 first round pick, namely), a superstar oft-forgotten by many in recent years (until his terrific reemergence in last year’s playoffs), the identity of the entire league changed. Slowly, any controversy surrounding the Paul trade dissipated from public thought as possibility sprung forth and leapt into the mind of basketball fans. Chris Paul to Blake Griffin? The league’s premier passer to its most exciting dunker? This kind of pairing doesn’t happen in the tangible sports world. It’s dreamed about in various Steve Nash trade scenarios, its considered in the wondering minds of late-night dreamers, but it rarely comes to fruition. And yet it did, forcing those possibilities that once seemed hardly possible to become a scrutinized reality.

A media circus awaits the New Clippers as the 2011-2012 season begins. They’re the “new” team, and maybe the best one in L.A, so frenzy will take precedence over anything else in coverage of the team.

It’s always interesting when possibility, and not immediacy, controls the prevailing opinion of a team’s makeup. These Clippers shouldn’t be viewed as a championship team (save that for next year), but the possession of two stars, a former star, and one of the best young big men in the league allow for an “anything is possible” expectation to form in a lockout-effected world.

Sure, the Clippers desperately need a backup center, and their bench is far from ideal (though competent in some areas). They have 35 starting-caliber point guards on the roster, and will continue to rely on Ryan Gomes and Randy Foye for significant minutes.

But, in spite of weaknesses, the Clippers have opened up possibilities to a level the team has never before reached or even been capable of reaching. It’s a once-in-generation chance, a chance that is just beginning to form in reality. It’ll start with two years of increasing success and highlights and pure basketball-watching joy, but what it could end with (championships, a dynasty, a new era of basketball) is far more exciting than the momentary possibility dreamed of today.

Popular Trends in Basketball-Cultural Cross-References: Rebecca Black’s “My Moment”

by Sean Highkin

When Rebecca Black’s “Friday” video went viral in March, it was universally derided as a joke, just as the Los Angeles Clippers have been for their entire experience. In both cases, the backlash has been mostly warranted. Last year, the Clippers began to shake that image when Blake Griffin emerged as the most electrifying player in the league. But they still didn’t make the playoffs, just as 14-year-old Rebecca’s attempt to silence her haters by singing “Friday” without autotune didn’t actually prove much about her singing ability.

Lakers listing Kobe as day-to-day, but his injured right wrist has been officially diagnosed as a torn lunotriquetral ligament after MRI

December 21, 2011 8:17 am via UberSocial for BlackBerryReplyRetweetFavorite

@ESPNSteinLine

Marc Stein

I’m going to assume that 99.9% of the people reading this, as well as myself, had no idea what a lunotriquetral ligament was until we all jointly Googled it about 5 minutes ago. For those who aren’t up on the news and fondly remember their formative years in elementary school, I present this helpful primer. Feel free to sing and mime along. Minus the miming – that’s never, ever a good idea.

The lunotriquetral ligament is connected to the lunate and triquetral bones,

The lunate and triquetral bones are connected to the hand bone,

The hand bone is connected to Kobe’s clutch bone,

Kobe’s clutch bone is connected to the Lakers’ success bone,

The Lakers’ success bone is connected to the “overreact and trade for Dwight Howard” bone,

The overreact and trade for Dwight Howard bone is connected to the “battle the Clippers for Los Angeles supremacy – at least this year, as Kobe continues to fall apart and the Clippers develop more chemistry” bone,

The “Battle for Los Angeles” bone is connected to the “making the Western Conference Finals and potentially losing to the Thunder anyway” bone,

And they’re all connected to the ring finger bone.

Fork in the Road by Ecstatic Mark via Flickr

by Noam Schiller

You know, Mikail Prokhorov has one simple request. And that’s to have a frickin’ Dwight Howard with frickin’ laser beams attached to his head. Can you remind him what he pays you for, Billy King? I mean honestly, throw him a frickin’ bone here.

What do we have? Shawne Williams? Riiiiiiiiight.

At least he’s ill-tempered. That’s a start.

Nets Masterpiece Theatre – Feature 2

by Curtis Harris

The following video is not to be taken literally. Yes, thousands and thousands of years ago, a space alien came to earth seeking to teach a Neanderthal basic skills. But look deeper and you’ll see this fascinating film is actually a very fitting metaphor for the harrowing struggle that Deron Williams undergoes every day trying to work with Johan Petro in practice. As if having terrible facial weren’t bad enough. Stay strong, Deron.

Gamera Goes Maracas for… Williamses

by Curtis Harris

There are few things that get Gamera’s blood pumping like the thought of a Williams. Vanessa Williams? Check. Ted Williams? Gamera went crazy in 19-whatever it was that Ted hit .400. Billy Dee Williams? Gamera still drinks a Colt .45 every day. So it comes as no surprise that Gamera is a huge fan of the New Jersey Nets. There are four, count ‘em, four Williamses on the roster.

Shelden Williams ability to get picked ahead of Brandon Roy despite the absence of any particularly good basketball skill is commendable. Jordan Williams eagerly preparing to bust Johan Petro’s chops for the coveted 4th-string big man role is edge-of-your-seat material. Shawne Williams’ sizzling .400 3-point shooting last year is scintillation inspiration. Most of all there is Deron Williams looking to put together one of the few back-to-back 20 point-10 assist seasons.

Magic Johnson, Chris Paul, Tim Hardaway, Kevin Johnson, Oscar Robertson…

The thought of Deron joining them just gets Gamera’s toes a-tappin’!

Will You Remember Me, I Will Remember You

by Scott Leedy

The New Jersey Nets 2011-2012 season won’t be defined or remembered based on court action or inaction. Ultimately, most of us won’t care how they start or finish. What we will pay attention to is their pursuit of a second star to pair with Deron Williams, namely Dwight Howard. If the Nets can find a way to land the most dominant defensive force in the league, the season will have been a success. They will have established a foundation that if managed correctly, could contend for championships for years to come. If they fail to procure Howard, their future becomes much more nebulous. Deron Williams will likely become extremely disgruntled by the lack of talent around him, and the feared scenario of trading lots of assets for Williams only to see him walk becomes a bleak reality.

No amount of money, or a relocation to Brooklyn can fix a serious lack of star power. The Nets need both Williams and Howard to achieve the franchise transformation they so desperately seek. Certainly, there is still the possibility that both Williams and Howard agree to sign to play together in Brooklyn, but without time playing together with The Nets the chances feel miniscule. So Nets fans, get ready for lots of rumors, and “sources say”, because your season will be defined as much by twitter updates as it will be by wins and losses.

Via Flickr, Smithsonian Institution

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The lockout has lifted, we have a season, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) And in the spirit of renewal, our shiny new cadre of writers is putting together previews for all 30 teams in true HP style. From where teams are going to what their disgrace is to explorations of pop culture, we are about to rock, salute us, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) So sit back, relax, and ponder the awesomeness of this fully operational Hardwood Paroxysm 3.0. -Ed. 

Quo Vadimus (Where Are We Going?)

by Andrew Lynch

The Sixers are this season’s Goldilocks. On the one hand, they’re among a handful of teams fortunate enough to bring back their entire core, after the re-signing of Thaddeus Young. As a result, Philadelphia is among the league leaders in the all important “consistency” statistic*. In the same hand, only in a slightly different position in the palm because the other hand is too busy waving a Jrue Holiday flag,** staying consistent means 33 wins and a 6th seed at best in the Eastern Conference.

*This doesn’t exist. Don’t let that fact stop you from buying into the “consistency” narrative as the end-all, be-all for this season, though – because it’s going to be sold fast and hard as an explanation for any team that saw little roster turnover and gets out of the gate to a fast start. That could easily be the Sixers; their first ten games include three tilts against teams that made the playoffs last year (Portland, Indiana, and New Orleans). Suffice to say it’s no rodeo-induced road trip.

**Sadly, this also doesn’t exist.

Fortunately, there is clearly room for growth. The Sixers outscored their opponents by 1.5 points per game last season for an expected record of 45-37. If the team can maintain that level of play – or improve upon it – this year, they could readily compete for a top-4 seed in the East, especially if Orlando trades Dwight Howard or Atlanta has to depend on Jeff Teague and Tracy McGrad–

Oh, seriously? Wow. In that case, the recipe for your perfect porridge is simple, Philly. Take the 2010-11 team that you had, let the yeast rise and pray to everything you hold holy that Spencer Hawes plays as few minutes as possible. If the balance between consistency and transition can be struck, you’ll be enjoying your second-round gruel in no time. If not, prepare to be eaten by the Andre Igoudala-trade rumor bear.

The Disgrace

by Noam Schiller

It’s not that Philly doesn’t have fun pieces. Sure, as a defensively-dominant team with an offense built mostly on mid-rangers and inefficiency, you’d expect that they’d be hard to watch, but this isn’t the case: With the exception of the incredibly frustrating Spencer Hawes, the practically irrelevant Andres Nocioni, and the the harmlessly enjoyable/enjoyably harmless Tony Battie, every single player on the Sixer’s roster is a joy on some, if not multiple, levels.

The problem is when you put all of them together and find out that they put spokes in each others’ wheels even more often than they put 20-footers on the back rim.

Evan Turner is a gifted scorer, master of the herky-jerky, his lack of athleticism masked by his creative innovation. Of course, he can’t shoot to save his life, so if you want to maximize his abilities you want to play him with an elite outside-shooting wing. You know, someone like… career 32% 3-point shooter Andre Iguodala? Wait, no, that’s not right. Let’s start again.

Lou Williams cannot play defense. But who cares? Lou Williams cannot  make shots. BUT WHO CARES?! He’s faster than every single NBA player  who plays his position, he gets to the line like a fiend, makes a ridiculous percentage at the rim for a man his size, and makes just enough outside shots to fill in. His picture appears under the definition of “6th man” in 9 out of 10 dictionaries.

Of course, you can only have one player like this on your bench if you want to have a functional team, so it’s a good thing that Philly’s second best bench player is… tweenerific, defensive sieve, rim-scoring machine Thaddeus Young. Ugh. Fine, a third time.

Spencer Hawes is awful. We hate him. He’s incredibly talented – size, vision, soft touch, you name it – but he masks those positive  attributes under a dispiriting cloak of apathy and ineptitude. Surely,  such a frustrating player should have the capacity to be his annoying self without clashing with a similar personality. And indeed, his  backup is… awkwardly-skilled-physically-challenged Nikola Vucevic. I give up.

It’s frustrating, because these are the sort of players that bloggers  dream of. It’s just that the fit isn’t there. Jodie Meeks makes threes, plays decent defense, and… takes away minutes from shooting  guards who aren’t just role players. Jrue Holiday is an exciting young point guard prospect in a league that has way too many of them, most  of whom can spell their own name. Elton Brand has overcome multiple knee injuries and the stench of a max deal gone wrong to become an above-average veteran leader for a team that just doesn’t need veterans, because they should be rebuilding, dammit, but they aren’t, AND WHY CAN’T YOU SEE THAT AND JUST LET GO, DOUG COLLINS?!

Sorry. Sorry.

It’s not that I don’t like Philly. It’s more that I can’t. They make too much sense as individuals and too little sense as an ensemble. Even if Young develops a mid-range shot, he won’t be able to usurp Brand in the line-up unless Hawes is replaced by an actual rebounder; even if Iguodala is traded to make room for Turner, the chances of equal compensation are virtually non-existent; even if Vucevic is a world-classer, he… actually, that would be awesome.

So, this team doesn’t make sense to me until Nikola Vucevic becomes an all-world center. Good luck with that, folks.

Will You Remember Me, I Will Remember You

by Clint Peterson

Do you remember where you were last night?

“If you woke up today in a drunk tank with a black eye, you are likely a Philly fan.” 

-Urban Dictionary, Philly Fans

Philadelphia fans are fanatical by nature, but sadly, as much or more time is spent targeting whomever is on the given stage in front of them than spent on pulling for their team, which is a shame because this 76ers team is likeable to a fault; quietly toiling away night in and night out. I’d be willing to say that as many, or more, basketball fans outside of Philadelphia like the Sixers as within reasonable driving time from the Wells Fargo Center. Memorable, this team isn’t, at least since the Allen Iverson era.

Remember when Doug Collins said this?

“Any time Detroit scores more than 100 points and holds the other team below 100 points they almost always win.”

Relatively stable when it comes to coaching changes –19 different head coaches in nearly 50 years as the 76ers — Doug Collins brought back a winning culture, and playoffs along with it, last season in his inaugural campaign as Philly four-star general. But if this offense doesn’t get it’s perimeter in gear they won’t get over the .500 hump and to the next level.

Collins almost got them to respectability from behind the arc last season, up to .355 from a previous .343, led by Jrue Holiday among starters (Jrue banged back two 3s in a preseason primer versus Washington to give Philly a seven point lead as I was writing this paragraph), and Jodie Meeks, team-wide. 16th in 3-point differential made and 20th in attempts, at -127, least season, Evan Turner came alive (finally) in the 2011 playoffs knocking down a blistering 80% of his attempts against the eventual East champs, the Heat.

“Frank, what’s with the purse?”

“I’m gonna make it raaaaiiiin, baby!”

-It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia

The 76ers have 13 on the roster, but have exactly only $614, 333 left under a luxury tax line expected to be $70,000,000, so not a lot left to shore up a shallow frontline featuring a pair of draft picks that will see significant time should any one of Spencer Hawes, Elton Brand, or Iguodala land awkwardly in the worst way. Otherwise you’re gonna get a dose of Andres NOOOOOOOOcioni you don’t want.

Just relish Thaddeus Young re-signing and leaving every ounce of tweener he meets in a clustrated mess on the floor while basking in the glow of a truly glorious defensive backcourt, the likes of which hasn’t been seen since the Bad Boys, and may never be again once this team’s roster climbs onto the chopping block in two years.