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Questions.
Photo By ZeRo`SKiLL on Flickr
I suppose it only comes down to a handful of questions, really.
Do you believe that there’s anything more to professional basketball, to the game, to the NBA, than just money?Â
Because if you don’t, congratulations, you’re a cold-blooded realist. And you can welcome every day with a savory lack of hope and remain devoid of romanticism, passion, or joy. This is, honestly, not the worst way to go through life. I had this philosophy professor. And the old man honestly could not give two damns about anything. His philosophical wanderings had led him to the conclusion that being an active human being made more rational sense than abandoning the meaning of anything. He had a wife who said he did not love, had no children, and just got up every day, enjoyed his coffee because it tasted good, went to work, came home, listened to classical music, and repeated it. It’s a fine existence.
What else could you possibly take away from the situation other than everything is about money? Long after the millions are spent, after all of these owners are dead in the ground, or have lost their fortunes or sold their teams or are generally gone from relevance in this sphere, the game’s still going to be affecting lives. I’ve said this before, though I’ve never written it. My greatest complaint with David Stern is that he has defined his job as being beholden to those he works for. Sound reasonable, right? We’re all beholden to the people we work for. Except that we’re not all beholden to the people we work for. As a matter of fact, quite often we’re hired to make sure that the people we work for don’t do irreparable harm to the very industry or faction, or element we control. You’ve got any number of regulatory or political offices. Hell, the police. Criminals pay taxes. But that doesn’t mean the cops should overlook crime. My problem is that Stern is more than just the guy who does the bidding for the owners. He’s more than a henchman. He’s a shepherd of the game. That’s a hyper-romanticized term, but think about it. He’s helped bring this game forward. From the stone ages into the golden era, the roaring 90′s and into this new silver age. And he’s watching Rome burn because the wealthy are too busy arguing over whether it’s more profitable to let it burn and then collect the insurance. The problem there? ROME IS STILL BURNT TO THE GROUND AFTERWARDS.
There’s talk that basketball writers just want the lockout to be over to save their jobs. Little clue. I get paid no matter how long this lockout lasts. Because, eventually, they’re going to come back and someone will still need someone who knows how to use the hyperlink button to write about whatever terrible idea Ron Artest has come up with, whatever crime a member of a Western Conference team has committed, what new trade rumor is out there, started by an assistant GM on the orders of his boss in order to raise the trade profile of a player who has zero shot of being traded but will no less impugn the reputation of the reporter who’s only doing his job: writing what he’s been told. The truth is that most of us aren’t pissed about the lockout because of our jobs. Our jobs make us pissed off because we decided to write about something we loved. We decided sports, and in particular basketball, were worth sharing with the world. Millions of fans decided it was worth caring about. Hundreds of players decided it was worth pursuing professionally. And dozens of owners decided it was worth owning a team.
Sports don’t matter. They really don’t. Parity, competitive balance, the heart of a champion, championship rings, None of these things actually carry any weight of significance. But the flaw is that money does. It drives decisions, sure. So do sports. “I’m not hiring this guy, his resume says he’s a Celtics fan.” Or, “I kept going, because honestly, I knew Jordan didn’t give up.” It’s a stupid reason, but it doesn’t change its accuracy. Money matters? Why? To whom, here? It sure as hell matters to the people that are losing their second or third job, but those aren’t the people running the show. I can even understand it mattering to people who have worked hard to come from nothing, and want the ability to set up not only themselves and their immediate families, but their extended family and descendants for life. But the owners, who are driving this entire thing? Ask the most hardcore pro-owner fella you’re going to. Ask the most brusque, capitalist, pro-establishment individual you can muster up why the owners are doing this.
Because they can.
They have a deal on the table to get 2/3 of their money back. They can get systemic changes, exceptions nullified, contracts rolled back, and a huge percentage gain on BRI, with the ability to go back and squeeze the stone in six years for even more. But they want more. Is Michael Jordan really suffering losing out on the Bobcats’ losses? Is Paul Allen? Is Michael Heisley? Is Dan Gilbert?
There’s no pain, there. That’s what I find offensive. That’s why I get so angry with the job losses and the slow negotiating sessions and the short negotiating sessions and the fact that everything has to be made so convenient for them. They’re fine. The reporters are fine. The players should be fine. They’re hurting fans. They’re hurting employees. And they’re hurting the game.
This game is imperfect, at both the molecular and professional level. It’s given to the random chance as much as any other sport, divided by a few inches beyond the control of any individual and ultimately, gives itself to a never-ending Mousetrap the Board Game feel. It’s just run to one end, throw the ball at a basket, go back, try and stop the other team from doing the same. Constantly. Roughly 100 times a game. But it gives people something. In a world where pregnant women get shot, mass atrocities flip by the ticker on the bottom, the economy is nosediving into turmoil, no one can agree on anything and generally everything sucks a lot of the time, basketball, and in particular the NBA, is one of those things that gives people joy. It makes a kid excited. It gives a guy at a terrible, Excel-pushing dayjob something to look forward to. It brings families together, it gives friends memorable nights, it gives people something to hope and dream about. That’s idealistic.
But God damn it, we’ve got to want something to matter more than just money. I don’t mind people getting rich off of it, I think it’s great that they do. I think it’s fantastic that the NBA got a $930 million media deal! USE IT TO MAKE SURE YOU DON’T GO UNDER.
It’s become really popular to just spit the same lines about the lockout. “This is just business” being the biggest one, and it’s not a falsehood. But it’s also something more than that and to ignore it is to stand blindly in front of the ocean at sunset and go “it’s just water.” There’s more to life than that, I’d hope. And yeah, someone’s got to pay for all of that, but if you want to go down that road I’ve got fans buying tickets and merchandise and oh, yeah, the Goddamn stadium you don’t want to pay for for the team to play in.
So what the hell are we doing here?
There are days I ask myself if this is just some sort of karmic punchline for my dedication to small-market teams. Because I’ve been beaten down to the point where not only do I want to not reward the small market owners holding the NBA world hostage, but I’m warming to the idea of getting rid of them altogether. Which sucks because the two places that would get axed are New Orleans whose fans have thrown themselves into trying to save the team, and Sacramento, where the fans have gone even further. But I’ve just gotten to the point where I want to shout the next time the statement of “They just want to be profitable” comes up, “THEN GO OUT AND WIN CONSISTENTLY USING A SMART METHOD, YOU MORON.”
The Lakers didn’t do this. The Lakers exploited a system the owners allowed to exist and an inherent advantage that comes from being somewhere the weather is always nice. But no, it’s teams that wasted their potential and now are feeling the effects dragging us down and holding us down.
There’s still talk from the optimists that a deal’s going to get done, that we’re not missing games or if we are, it won’t be many. But my biggest concern is driven from the fact that there’s been no point of concession from that faction. There’s nowhere the league has said they’re trying to get to, other than something which solves the problems. Which is like saying “well, there’s really no body part we won’t hack off to stop the infection.” Sooner or later it’s just pieces of a corpse and you’ve defeated the point.
What’s the end point?
Somewhere down this road the NLRB ruling comes back. And from there it’s lawsuits, either way. And once that happens, all hell breaks loose. Because the lawyers will take their time and bill as much as possible. You know why? Because it’s a business for them.
Somewhere down the road the union’s going to crack. I don’t doubt them when they say they’re prepared, that’s why I’m concerned. Because if the owners dedicate themselves to waiting, it may take longer than they’ve expected. But once you go down that road you’re stuck with it, and you’re just sitting there hoping the siege works.
So what’s so bad?
It’s so bad that it took them until October to sit down and really negotiate. It’s so bad that both sides seem prone to dramatics. It’s so bad that the union treats this like a junior high choir competition with matching t-shirts. It’s so bad that the owners are too busy to attend meetings but not too busy to reject offers. It’s so bad that the proposals aren’t constantly being exchanged. It’s so bad that the most they can deal with a meeting is five hours. They say that’s a long time. Do the people that say this, have they actually ever worked in an office? Because a five-hour meeting is a bummer. It’s also manageable. So is an 8-hour one. They happen. All the time. Why are they any different? Why aren’t they meeting every day for ten hours to get a deal? What else are they doing? The answer is nothing. They literally have nothing else more important to do.
It’s so bad because there’s this sense of “well, it’s not your money.” But it is. I support the NBA, my income goes back into it. My job is making the league more popular, getting you to think about it and read about it and care about it even when I’m criticizing it. Everyone chips in with what they have, what they can, and the casual viewers, the golden calves of sports marketing, they’re adding their cud just like everyone else. Maybe I’m a fool for thinking they deserve better but I’m sticking with it.
Is the system broken?
Yes. Because the system has made people believe that they are bigger than the game which was handed down to them from seven decades and that they will hand down just the same.
You’re Right, Blake Griffin’s Not Stupid
Photo by Karith on Flickr
There’s nothing factually incorrect about what Pincus wrote above – if, under a CBA similar to the current one, Blake Griffin were to sign a Qualifying Offer when he’s a restricted free agent in the summer of 2013, then he would be an unrestricted free agent in 2014. Of course, why not just say that the Clippers could trade Griffin to the Lakers for Luke Walton the day the lockout ends? It’s a technically possible trade, but it won’t happen. Writers seem to think they have a better chance of getting away with this sort of 2014 scenario as it involves a deeper understanding of the current CBA than most people have, and is less obviously ridiculous. But no player has ever turned down a maximum extension for a QO, and the odds that Griffin will be the first (in the process leaving tens of millions of dollars on the table) are minuscule. About the same as the odds that the Clippers will trade Griffin for Luke Walton.
Preface:Â
That’s right, I just blockquoted a fanshot on an SBNation site which of course is nothing more than a blockquote and reference of another post. In this case, an Eric Pincus post on Life After Kobe. At some point this is going to get so meta that we’re just going to be writing about ourselves and we won’t really even need basketball. Which is convenient, since we don’t have it anyway.Â
I think Steve Perrin over at ClipsNation does a fantastic job. It’s honestly one of my favorite sites on SBNation’s NBA collective, which is saying something since I adore just about all of them. Perrin’s a genuinely nice guy who I’ve talked with over the years and the site he runs is superb. In fact, his site is so good that I often find myself lamenting the fact that he covers the Clippers. Imagine if he covered a team that wasn’t the Clips, how good would that be? “But Matt,” you didn’t seem to say, “you love those teams that are perpetually terrible and can’t catch a break. Are you really going to take the traditional ‘man, the Clippers suck’ angle? Because that’s lame. Lame lame lame lame lame. Lame.” See, the thing is, most every terrible team I have some level of hope for, whether it’s a young player, a new management, or just the idea that eventually an owner will catch a break (shout out to Herb Kohl). But the Clippers? I don’t feel bad for Steve because his team sucks. Lots of teams suck. I feel bad for Steve because his owner is a cancer on this league, and I firmly believe (big notice, believe, not know, since lots of scumbags win championships) that he will always be the pothole that derails any success the Clippers may have.
Questioning the idea of Griffin accepting the max extension has become taboo, especially in the blogosphere. Consider Ziller who rightfully sliced and diced a columnist for bad logic earlier this year:
First of all, while Griffin can become a free agent at the end of the 2012-13 season, he would be a restricted free agent, which means that the Clippers could match any offer sheet he signs with another team. Obviously, barring injury, Griffin is on track to draw a maximum-value extension. Obviously, barring injury, the Clippers will match. Not even Donald T. Sterling, who is a great idiot, is that big an idiot.
Because of that restricted free agency reality, top-flight players on first-round rookie scale deals rarely get to restricted free agency. LeBron James? He signed an early extension and avoided RFA. Dwyane Wade? Yep. Carmelo Anthony? Uh huh. Chris Paul, Deron Williams, Dwight Howard, Kevin Durant? Yes, yes, yes, yes. Derrick Rose will do the same in a few months. It’s a reality in the NBA: Superstars sign their second contract after their third year, and stay with their first team for at least seven years.
via Blake Griffin Now The Subject Of Unnervingly Stupid Columns – From Our Editors – SBNation.com.
So case closed, right? Blake’s going to be in L.A. for at least seven years, or however long a player’s first non-rookie-max is under the new CBA. (It could be year by year for all we know, which is why this column largely is irrelevant as is any discussion about contracts or basketball at all. That’s right, the lockout is now making me into a nihilist. I don’t know if it’s the players or owners at this point, all I know is I hate all of them and I hope they all get permanent migraines until it’s over.) But here’s my problem, why I keep finding myself aligning myself with those that are skeptical that Griffin’s going to be a Clipper in 2015. All those other teams Ziller mentions? There are bad things said about Arison, Dolan, DeVos, the Miller family, and especially Clay Bennett and George Shinn. None of them compare to Donald Sterling. Treating Griffin’s situation with Sterling like any other player under a rookie deal is ignoring a game-changing variable. Sterling and everyone’s awareness of what Sterling means.
Let’s go ahead and assume restricted free agency exists under the new CBA or at least will be grandfathered in. Griffin’s choices are:
A. Sign the max extension, committing to Sterling and all that means for the foreseeable future, risking being put in the same scenario as so many stars, trapped as a phenomenal player on a team handcuffed by bad ownership. For reference, he can call Kevin Garnett and ask him how that worked out, and hear Garnett say “Well, I mean, it wasn’t that bad, I wasn’t playing for Sterling or anyth….oh. Sorry, Blake.” He can pursue the money, which is a smart play, but limits his ability to contend and drives him insane as he watches Sterling be Sterling. Let’s put this one away for a minute and we’ll come back.
B. Sign the QO, hold off for one year, losing all that money (while raking in his endorsement money from Kia, Nike, and Subway – I’m sure he’s just scraping by during this year), and then enter free agency where not only does he get the biggest deal he can earn under the new system, but he gets to choose who he plays for. I mean, who would want that? (Say hi to every member of free agency over the past year. The goal is no longer to have the cake, it’s to have it, eat it, and get to order what color the frosting is and how long the fork is.) He can go contend. He can team up with a superstar or a good team. He can stay in a huge market. He can go to play for a coach he believes in. Â (Random, unsubstantiated hypothetical that I just really think is a fun idea: Imagine Durant doesn’t get a ring the next two seasons and Westbrook snaps and pushes his way out of town. Presti calmly asks Griffin to meet him at his folks’ house. Shudder in fear, mortals. Again, this is science fiction, but there’s a reason “Starship Troopers” is talked about so much (and tweeted about by Zach)). And he doesn’t have to deal with Sterling. Imagine looking at James Dolan and go “wow, an owner who isn’t quite so… Sterling.” That’s what we’re talking about here.
But let’s go back to Scenario A. for a minute. A few of the myriad reasons that A is still incredibly likely to happen;
- Steve’s right. NBA players don’t turn down the money. I happen to believe this is because agents are short-sighted with poor vision, but it’s true. After all, they don’t have to work for Sterling. They just have to take their cut.
- The injury. It’s not expected to be a problem, it was a freak injury, was a bone injury, and shouldn’t affect anything going forward. But injuries spook players, agents, teams, families, everything. And Griffin’s got a big one on his chart.
- The Clippers organization? Honestly is a lot better. Olshey has done a downright decent job there. You can be a fan of the Mo Williams trade or not be a fan of the Mo Williams trade, but in general, the plan hasn’t been awful. If Griffin can be convinced Sterling’s really not going to screw with things, it’s a pretty easy choice.
And that’s where we get back into hypotheticals. I understand wanting to only look at what is and not dabble in what could be, but it’s not like Sterling doesn’t have a longtime reputation of making terrible decisions and screwing up good things. It comes down to whether you believe that not even Sterling could mess this up… or if you believe there is nothing Donald Sterling can not find a way to infect.
There’s another element here, naturally, as long as we’re dreaming up starships driven by unicorns. The new CBA has a 50/50 chance at having some modified version of the franchise tag. If he can’t make nearly as much money somewhere else, it becomes one of those “I’d work for the devil for an extra $5 million per year.” I’m just not convinced that if all things are equal, Griffin won’t be the first player to say that money’s important, but it’s not freedom, and it’s not worth years of contention.
The best way to neutralize Sterling and get him out of the league, considering Stern won’t, or can’t do anything about it, and neither will the rest of the owners out of some sort of mutated, nightmare version of the social contract, is for the players to prove that money isn’t worth sticking with a system that’s rotten at its core.
…
Oh, yeah, and Vinny Del Negro’s their coach. That, too.
& Consequences
Photo via Caribb on Flickr
Paul Pierce is the NBA.
Kobe’s not. LeBron’s not. Kareem, Wilt, Russell, Cousy, West, Magic, Bird Jordan, none of them are. They stand out and above, they’re how we define the league through example. It’s defining the collective by the exception.You can’t represent a league that’s seen hundreds of great basketball players come and go through the lens of the very best. You miss the forest for the tallest standing trees. The league’s not defined by the no-names either. The bench players, the garbage men, the end-of-the-bench, they’re part of the tapestry, but that’s like describing a piece of art only by the canvas. Or the wall it hangs on. You’re missing what you remember. And Pierce is the NBA. He’s the kind of player that really makes up the story of the NBA, what it’s been about, it’s best and worst.
His career narrative is more representative of the complexities of how the league holds the majority of its players in retrospect than any auto-play legend. Pierce came out of Inglewood, immersed in Lakers culture and wound up in Boston. A Kansas Jayhawk, member of a high-exposure, strong-legacy school program. It’s a perfect example of the bizarre contrast between the world of high school basketball and college. Why would an Inglewood kid choose to go to Lawrence, Kansas for college? (For that matter, why would anyone? Signed, Missouri graduate of 2004 full of envious hate.) Because that’s how the machine works. He was drafted to the polar opposite team, and slipped five spots, for the prototypical “motivated by falling in the draft” angle.
Years of stellar play on a team that could never get past it. But those really were the hero years for Pierce. Check out the :40 second mark here.
Pierce did his time in the ditch. And that’s key here. If you want to come out smelling well, it’s key to toil on a losing team. And Pierce toiled on a team that walked the perfect balance. He had his share of epic runs in the postseason to get the exposure, but never reached the promised land. The blueprint says toil on a losing team, stick with them, don’t pout, then either be rewarded by being traded (despite your love for the city-yank, yank) or having a legit superstar traded to you. In reality, the parallels between Pierce and Garnett are something to catch and take a gander at. The real difference? Pierce wound up on Legend Celtics, Garnett wound up on Lowly Timberwolves. If Kevin McHale had turned around and switched the deal, landing Pierce to play with KG, how different is the narrative, except for the places switched? (Let’s all take a minute to laugh at the prospect of McHale pulling off that deal — Rockets fans, you don’t get to laugh, that guy gives personnel input for your team now. ) But both are spared the harsh light of examination. No LeBron James treatment for them. Garnett because he did everything possible to win with Minnesota and just couldn’t do it, to the point where he lost his prime. Pierce because he stuck with his team for the duration of his career, bought into the team culture. It should be noted that the summer of 2007 saw a fair number of “could Pierce be traded to the Lakers?” stories percolating from outlets with Celtic ties. The thought being, Pierce was getting tired of the wait, and why not go home and win a title with Kobe?
But that’s not what wound up. And he reached the championship, the career validator with defense, sacrifice, team commitment, and a realization of what has always made the Celtics teams good in the minds of the simplified media, a confused sense of dedication and family. (In reality, it was the realization of Celtics values, but those are actually the idea that you let players do what they do and get out of their way. Auerbach talked about that all the time, it’s how he got through to Russell. Similarly, most of the Celtics coaching was done that season by the Big 3 while Doc tied it together with a pretty ribbon that read “Ubuntu” and didn’t have to worry about managing rotations. This was before he came out of nowhere to wallop Phil Jackson in the Finals which pretty much changed our opinion of him forever, and from that point on became a coach worthy of his acclaim.)
The point to all this? Pierce’s story could have been much different, but it wasn’t, and what’s more NBA than that tale?
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Pierce’s game is authentic. I mean that it’s not riddled with athleticism or brute force. It’s not pure shooting stroke, but it’s also not built entirely on savvy. It’s the synthesis. Kobe Bryant’s game is so complex and charged that it’s barely human. It’s more like watching electricity fly between conductors. But Pierce is brick and mortar. It’s jab and check, move, cajole, then burst, and release. Â He drives through the layup, and touches it off like he’s terrified the wind’s going to blow the layup back the other direction. And the spot-up three is territory that falls somewhere between an LOLCat and Edward Hopper. That catch off the curl screen on the perimeter, where the defense catches up, Â just two steps back because of the screen spacing, ready for the drive, only to recognize one second too late that Pierce has continued the motion of the catch into a shot, after a half-second delay to freeze the defender? That’s both comic and cruel. You can watch it a dozen times and it’ll still get you.
It’s bizarre what moments antagonists choose to remember. For Pierce it’s the wheelchair incident in the Finals. For Bryant, it’s glares at teammates. Both show a superhuman ability to find terrible shots in key moments and shoot them anyway, then curse and shake their head as if to say “Man, can’t believe THAT 45-foot fadeaway didn’t fall. Sometimes the rim just gets you.” Even better, their supporters immediately say “I don’t care, that’s the shot I want them taking.” Pierce, like Bryant, does have the spot, though. The elbow, naturally. When you have teams jumping to that spot to cut it off like the Heat did in their playoff series, you know you have a rep. But Pierce’s moves are so varied, he could hit them elsewhere. His efficiency at the post is something that gets overlooked. He wound up in the 95th percentile last season. One of my favorite moves is the right block spin and drift shot. He never goes to  his fadeaway from the right block (versus 18 of 35 times he went left shoulder jumper from the left block) and still opponents get dragged into it. If insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result, Pierce is Willy Wonka driving opponents onto the boat. “Just a short ride!”
It’s this combination of touch, shot, form, explosion, conditioning, savvy and skill that makes Pierces such a one-man amalgam for the NBA. He’s iconic in that he’s not iconic in any specific way. His silhouette isn’t a skyhook or a fadeaway. It’s probably just a fist pump.
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Pierce’s ego is also perfectly NBA. Humble by those who came before him but certain there’s none better, day in and day out. He talks about Europe, he’s active in community works. He loves Boston, his home’s in California. He can mock himself for the camera and still believes firmly that there isn’t a badder man out there. Pierce is defined by the NBA, but the NBA’s also defined by Pierce.
He’ll enter the Hall quietly, I’d bet beside a few other Celtics. He’ll be given his moment but probably have to share the spotlight with a bigger star. He’ll be a cult figure kind of name among blogs and analysts as time goes on, but will still flash that championship ring every chance he gets. He’s got his own legend with how he got his nickname, and he’s left his mark on the league.
It’s just important that we stop and notice as he continues to make this league’s history, a workman artist in an artist workman’s world.
Dennis Rodman And Pearl Jam And Things You Should Be Aware Of
Eddie Vedder and Dennis Rodman | Flickr – Photo Sharing!.
This is a photo of Eddie Vedder on Dennis Rodman’s shoulders from 2007.
Rodman said he wanted either his son or Pearl Jam singer Eddie Vedder to serve as his presenter Friday night, but Hall of Fame officials informed him a current member had to do so. Enter Phil Jackson.
via Dennis Rodman: Dennis Rodman says NBA’s monster salaries have to go – Chicago Tribune.
And then I was informed “Black, Red, and Yellow” from Pearl Jam’s B-sides album was written about Rodman, and features a voice message from Rodman.
I also heard that Rodman performed “Alive” at his birthday party.
Upon discovering this, I remarked that this was the most Dennis Rodman song of Pearl Jam’s that Dennis Rodman could have sung, which was later verified by his Hall of Fame speech, in which he made mention of the fact that he didn’t honestly think he’d be alive to see himself in. In reality, the song’s about a son losing a father (Eddie’s big on the whole patronage angle, see: “Daughter,” the song), and then the mother embracing the child sexually. So that’s pretty messed up, which, again, is pretty Rodman. I then wondered which song would be the rest of the 97 Bulls from “Ten.”  I mean, Jordan’s pretty “Jeremy” what with the obsession over how he’s treated, though if Jordan were Jeremy he’d just set out to ruin his classmates’ lives forever. Pippen’s probably “Even Flow” what with the feeling like you’re constantly pressed down. I like to think Jud Buechler was “Porch” but I’m not sure why.
Rodman’s middle name is Keith.
The end.
Accidentally In (Kevin) Love
Photo by Vitor Sa-Virgu on Flickr
Word is, too, that Larry Brown lurks on the horizon. I very much hope that this never becomes enough of a reality that I’ll have to explain why its a nightmarishly bad idea. And does anyone else get the nagging feeling that flirting with all of these Living Legends of Coaching seems to make the team somehow less credible? Doesn’t it kind of feel like the Wolves are trying a little too hard to look cool?
As for my analysis on the situation, I’ll defer to commenter Biggity2bit who hopes that the Wolves “make Adelman a contract offer today, and if he pauses when looking at it that Kahn or Glen lean over and add an extra ‘zero’ to the end of the number and give it back to Adelman.â€
via A Wolf Among Wolves.
I had an idea tonight, and this is based off of exactly zero intel from any of the small number of sources I have, this is just me spitting blanks, essentially. But I wondered why Adelman would interview for this gig, when he has said in the past month that he wants to try his hand at GM. Not like Adelman can’t take the year off. Why would he be interested in working under Kahn in a capacity he’s trying to move away from?
(Side note: I blame Pat Riley for this. Everyone saw the cushy life Riley has had since he moved to the Prez box only and now they want the life, too. Go travel a bit, watch some college ball, shake some hands, get all the credit, very little of the blame, no constant travel, it’s a big win-win. Riley’s far from the first to do it, he’s just the first to do it with that smug look on his face. “Oh, you’re tired, you say? My good man, you simply MUST come aboard the yacht this weekend? Oh, you have a game? Pity.” )
Then I looked at the rest of the candidates. Bickerstaff, who has worked in basketball ops extensively. Larry Brown, who’s used to running his own show. Even Mike Woodson had a lot of influence in Atlanta due to the nebulous nature of the ownership situation and the transition in the GM’s office. Don Nelson, ran his own show in Golden State, and had Mullin ousted when they disagreed.
Are they interviewing guys to be some sort of weird, reverse Kahn to Kahn’s Walsh in Indiana? Is Taylor prepping for the future when he fires Kahn? Is it possible the reign of madness could be at its end (even if the end means Nelson or Brown in charge)? None of the candidates outside of Porter has really operated without personnel oversight. So if that’s the case, there’s a chance that someone with actual knowledge and ability to succeed could be hired. If that’s the case, there’s a chance this could work.
If that could happen, it’s also possible Rubio really does work out. It’s possible he is the immediate impact player, even if not an immediate All-Star or world-bringer, they need. If that’s the case, they’d have Rubio, Derrick Williams, who they accidentally got when they couldn’t secure a trade, and Kevin Love, who they accidentally had to start giving minutes to because they couldn’t hold him down any more. That’s a great 1-3-4 combination. With the right coach, it could accidentally work.
This has happened before. In fact, the longer Kahn’s around, the more likely it is that he enjoys some stretch of success, real or imagined. Consider that Mitch Kupchak was considered terrible in 2006. Dwyer had these three guys just above Isiah. ISIAH. Kupchak, Ainge, Otis Smith. That’s six Finals appearances between the three of them in the past four seasons. Only Otis managed to rise to the top of those rankings without some form of luck in either a former member of the franchise or Michael Heisley, the real definition of Manna from Heaven.
You could see this happening, couldn’t you? A decent coach comes along, drags out 35 wins next year, shows development, convinces Kahn to start drafting and signing well, dumps off some of the waste, makes a few more moves, makes it over .500 in 2012-2013, asserts some more control, Rubio comes into his own, Williams explodes in his third year, and bam, you’ve got yourself a playoff team with a young core.
Or they could hire Don Nelson. You know. Either way.
The Owners Aren’t Responsible For The Monster They Made, Just The Destruction The Monsters Created
Photo by Tasayu Tasnaphun on Flickr
So, sure, Billy Hunter is correct: there is no one literally holding a gun to the owners’ heads, forcing them to overpay a guy like Ben Gordon rather than discover a guy Gary Neal. But even if errors like that — or like the salaries given to Gilbert Arenas, Rashard Lewis and Joe Johnson — aren’t made, the 57% mandate forces the owners to give $2.2 billion to the players.
Whether they’re worth it or not.
via Eight Points, Nine Seconds — An Indiana Pacers Blog.
Over at 8pts9secs, Tim drops another in a long series of articles shedding light on the complexities of the NBA lockout. He has provided a truly insightful approach to this lockout, and you should be reading the site daily (Jared writes there, too, and he’s okay, I guess — how’s that for a name drop, jerkface?) and following Tim on Twitter. That said, I have a problem.
The owners aren’t upset because they woke up one day and were all “Holy crap, we’re giving the players too much money! This offends me on an ideological level! I daresay we should stage a lockout simply so that this group of human beings will not earn so much! RABBLE RABBLE.” No, they’re upset because they’re losing money. That’s all this is about. “Wah, I bought a sports team and it’s losing money and I don’t like that. Wah.” The end. Instead of seeking out alternative options, rethinking their business model, fixing their revenue sharing, or bucking up and living with the reality of the capitalist system that has provided them with so much worldly wealth, they decided “Hey, let’s punish the players! We have leverage and they’re typically stupid as a union! (Not as much as the NFL’s, but still!)” and locked out the players. If you can’t think of a way to fix your problems, blame someone else and then extort what you want from them. The American Way.
My point here is that if the revenue covered their losses, we wouldn’t have this problem. Well, we’d have one, because everyone is greedy, but not as big of one. But the owners simultaneously managed to ratchet up their non-player-salary-costs and not generate enough revenue to fail to cover the 57% they hand over to the players. And that’s genuinely effected by their decisions.
Did you know only 40% of arena signage goes into BRI? Or 40% of luxury suites income? The margins there aren’t huge. But they contribute. And do you know what makes it hard to pull in top dollar for those kinds of opportunities, or for sponsorships, or for any other non-BRI income? Having a terrible team you’ve committed a lot of money to. Fans know these kinds of things. Sponsors know these kinds of things. Season ticket holders are going to know you gave Darko Milicic that extra year, that you gave Andrea Bargnani that extension, that you have limited your ability to compete now or in the future. And sponsors know how those season ticket holders feel about your team. That influences your market value on items. It impacts your television deals (which are included in BRI, but are still going to help cover your losses). Giving irresponsible contracts didn’t raise or lower the percentage of what the players get under the former system.
But it did impact their ability to generate a profit. And we know this because the losses weren’t standardized, nor were they consistent, nor were they across the board. This is not an impossible system to profit under. It simply became that way in combination with a recession and Isiah contracts floating around. If we’re going to pretend that the owners shouldn’t be held accountable for their poor decision making, we’re advocating a belief that the “fair” solution to this negotiation is one that punishes the players for forces beyond their control.
NOTE: I’m not advocating that fair has anything to do with this, other than our perception. The owners know this is a total lack of logical fairness in pursuit of their dreams of, I don’t know, MORE cars to not drive. But the public’s purpose in all this is to weigh in and give our/their thoughts on what should happen. And we’re seeing a distinctive “the players had it coming!” vibe that’s starting to pop up this week after a solid three weeks of “Are the owners out of their minds?!”
NOTE 2: Tom Ziller is not part of this new vibe.
If you want simplistic terms, if you make bad business decisions at the root of your revenue-drivers (player contracts), that’s probably going to impact all the things that play together to determine whether you post a profit or a loss (BRI plus Non-BRI). These things don’t exist in a vacuum. Signing a terrible player to a long-term contract is going to frustrate a ticket holder, who may be reticent to re-up or buy merchandise. When that contract plays out as badly as it seems when it’s signed, the impact is magnified.
Maybe the numbers do work out that way. Maybe it’s wrapped up in the tax implications, maybe it’s really possible that the owners have no way to succeed under the current system. But more and more this looks like wanting to cut your friend’s face off because you’re worried about that scar you gave yourself after downing a half bottle of tequila and getting on the treadmill. Here’s an idea. DON’T DOWN HALF A BOTTLE OF TEQUILA AND IF YOU DO, DON’T GET ON A TREADMILL.
And if you want to ask how I can support revenue sharing, given that it rewards owners who choose to make a poor decision by investing in a lesser market, I’d argue that revenue sharing isn’t fair, it’s just what’s best for the league overall, just as not blaming the players isn’t fair, but it’s what’s best for the owners. In a battle of competing interests, you gotta break a few eggs.
