Today marks the launch of a new semi-regular video feature here at HP: Have Ball, Will Travel. Through this series, we’ll take a look at iffy traveling calls and non-calls, break down the plays step by step, and attempt to make some official determination of the validity of the play based on documented rule.
In our first installment, we’ll examine a play from the second quarter of last night’s game between the Miami Heat and the Boston Celtics, during which Dwyane Wade was called for a traveling violation.
As is noted in the video, the NBA’s Video Rulebook states that “a dribbler may take two steps after gathering the ball to end a dribble.” In the context of this play, this means that after Wade has gathered/collected the ball (which occurs when he has the ball in his hands, and not at any time prior during his final dribble), he’s entitled to two steps, which he takes.
Perhaps one could argue that the collect/gather interpretation of the rule is a bastardization of its original intent, but that responsibility lies with the league. From where I sit, it’s fairly clear that Wade takes only two steps after collecting his final dribble, which is a legal maneuver according to the rule as written. It’s just a creative use of space.
Yeah, yeah, we didn’t do one for every team. Not like you all won’t get your fair shake around here, for better or worse. Trust me, if you’re some of the teams out there, you don’t want to hear us talk about you.
But, with a little less than 48 hours to go before the season opener in Miami,we’re going to throw up some stuff discussing the upcoming season. We started with the Magic, talked Bucks, and now, for you masochists out there, move on to the Pistons.
THE MAIN EVENT
Of all the franchises in all the world…why the Pistons? Well, some team out there has to serve as the model of what not to do, and though there will be teams that finish with a lesser record than Detroit, few (if any) can claim as depressing a condition.
Rip Hamilton, Ben Gordon, and Charlie Villanueva eat at the Pistons’ cap total, and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future. Dig through all of Detroit’s young talent, and even the most promising players face low ceilings or inconvenient walls, preventing them from fully comprehending the bounds of their potential growth. It’s a team of underwhelming pieces assembled to produce an underwhelming whole; a star-less wonder in a league that thrives on them. Did Joe Dumars really envision Ben Gordon and Charlie V as stars? Did he really lack the foresight to see past the introductory press conferences, and the illusion of progress he tried to slip over everyone’s eyes (including his own)? Sometimes the right move is to do nothing. Dumars should know that now. Pistons fans, too. And if they don’t, they’ll slowly learn from Dumars’ mistake over the next four seasons.
I wish we lived in a world where it made sense to hand Villanueva a blank check. I wish Gordon could use his considerable talents to give people pause when doubting the potential of a scoring combo guard. Neither is the case, as both players serve as warning labels for their contemporaries. Be wary of all jump-shooting power forwards. Look out for high usage scorers without a true shooting guard’s frame. They, apparently, can never be worth a serious financial investment, because clearly Villanueva and Gordon were not.
The problem here lies in appraisal. Gordon and Villanueva’s tragic flaw isn’t that they’re the wrong types of players to award a contract of such magnitude. They’re just the wrong players. They’re just not good enough. Not skilled enough, not productive enough, not effective enough on defense, not efficient enough on offense. What’s worse is that there was no contract year smokescreen, but only Dumars’ willingness to fool himself into handing out huge deals. The Pistons are in trouble because of who will make how much money, but the source of that trouble is the man who agreed to pay out that money in the first place, and no one else. We can blame Villanueva and Gordon for being the players they are, or we can see Dumars as a once proud captain taking his ship to the bottom of the sea in search of a treasure chest filled with pennies.
It’s a shame, really. The Pistons have players that could be interesting in other contexts, but as members of this group, they fall victim to the franchise’s contagion. Austin Daye could be a fantastic and unique player, but on this roster he’s Tayshaun Prince with a longer sentence. Will Bynum could be a lot of fun for a shallow quasi-contender, but instead he’ll back up one of the league’s most underwhelming point guards. Even the long-established Rip Hamilton, curling endlessly around screen after screen, is somehow made into an afterthought by the presence of Gordon and Tracy McGrady. The team’s saving graces have been marginalized, their coffers emptied to fill Gordon’s bank account, and the franchise itself mired in a tar pit. Detroit has seen better days, but they don’t look to be returning any time soon.
PLAYFUL TUNES:
PLAYER WHO COULD BE AN IMPACT GUY BUT PROBABLY WON’T BE:
Terrico White. What’s not to like about a hyper-athletic 6’5” point man? His shot’s a bit shaky and some of his decisions with the ball (mostly his tendency to settle for bad jumpers, a la Ben Gordon) are worthy of a good nose scrunch, but he’s a second rounder that could be a lot of fun. Of course, there would have to be a run of injuries for White to see the court with any regularity, but those of us with hopeless crushes on every oversized PG that comes along will have our Rodney Stuckey voodoo dolls at the ready.
YOU SHOULD TOTALLY WATCH BECAUSE:
…you might have absolutely nothing else to do on a Monday night, you hate yourself, you find The Cure’s discography to be too upbeat, and you thought Grave of the Fireflies needed an NBA companion piece.
YOU SHOULD TOTALLY HATE THIS TEAM BECAUSE:
They could literally be the most unwatchable team in the league. The Timberwolves have Kevin Love and a few friends. The Cavaliers still give you access to Antawn Jamison and Anderson Varejao (not to mention the potential for more Boobie Gibson, which is more exciting than you think). The Raptors offer DeMar DeRozan, Sonny Weems, and Amir Johnson. What do we get with the Pistons? Hopefully a decent chance for Daye? The occasional Jason Maxiell highlight? Tayshaun Prince’s farewell tour? All for a team that managed to shoot the ball at a lower clip (according to eFG%) than any other team in the league last season, while proudly owning the league’s second-worst eFG% defense? Woe.
Yeah, yeah, we didn’t do one for every team. Not like you all won’t get your fair shake around here, for better or worse. Trust me, if you’re some of the teams out there, you don’t want to hear us talk about you.
But, with a little less than 48 hours to go before the season opener in Miami,we’re going to throw up some stuff discussing the upcoming season. We started with the Magic, and now, to indulge the League Pass junkie in you, move on to the Bucks.
THE MAIN EVENT
One year into Scott Skiles’ coaching tenure, four years after Andrew Bogut was selected with the top pick in the 2005 draft, and just months after Brandon Jennings skipped back across the pond, the Milwaukee Bucks became a legitimate cult favorite among NBA die-hards. Jennings’ 55-pointer against the Warriors cemented his status in the underground and the mainstream alike, but it was the rest of the season’s path that slowly converted all serious basketball fans into Bucks followers.
What started with Jennings carried to Bogut, the highly-skilled, two-way big man who unexpectedly made a run at the Defensive Player of the Year Award without notifying the appropriate authorities. We knew of Bogut’s lefty hook and his turnaround jumper, but few players are capable of putting together such an all-encompassing defensive performance. With Bogut quietly leading a charge that many attributed to Jennings, the tremendous impact of Skiles’ coaching became increasingly evident. With Bogut in, the Bucks were among the top defensive teams in the league last season, despite having a roster seemingly held together by putty and packaging tape. With Bogut out, the Bucks still managed to hold their own defensively, their best player sitting sideline, draped in white cloth. The Bucks’ appeal is equal parts Jennings, Bogut, and Skiles (with a dash of Ersan Ilyasova, Luke Ridnour, Luc Richard Mbah a Moute, and Carlos Delfino, to taste), as their combination of flair, consistency, and grit made them one of the most endearing and successful teams in the league.
That doesn’t seem likely to change in the coming year, provided the NBA faithful keep their eyes open. Hit it, Holly.
GUEST LECTURE
Today’s mid-post guest lecture comes from Holly MacKenzie of RaptorBlog, The Basketball Jones, NBA.com, and Twitter (she runs the damn thing) fame. Holly has a degree in Pimpology and thinks the NBA is pretty swell. -Ed.
Viewers are going tune in for the Bucks because they’ll recall being mesmerized by a certain slight-yet-sturdy point guard’s passes, fearless drives to the hoop, and a bold personality that’s even brighter than his game. They’ll tune in because they remember that aforementioned fateful Saturday night, when the rookie went scoreless in the first quarter against the Golden State Warriors, but somehow finished with 55 points. They’ll tune in because they want excitement, and Jennings will give it to them.
What a lot of people don’t realize though, is that while they’ll be rooting for the new face of the Bucks, they’ll be falling for the rest of his teammates all at the same time.
Andrew Bogut is one of the youngest, brightest, and most exciting big men in the league, and though the enduring image of his fall will be remembered for it’s brutality, look for him to come back this season and force us to forget it. Bogut will remind us just how good he is and how great his team can be with him in the middle. Add in a cast of characters with a little bit of something for everyone and you’ve got the Bucks roster. You like hard workers with deep thoughts and gun tattoos on their stomach? See rookie Larry Sanders. How about outgoing, self-appointed social media kings looking for the right situation? Check @cdouglasroberts. Love cheering for the little guy? Boykins! Are blue-collar, college fan favorites your type? Jon Brockman’s in town. Oh, you want some royalty? Luc Richard Mbah a Moute. A fan of pretty boys? Carlos Delfino. Looking for an equally heartwarming/heartbreaking journey? Michael Redd.
I’d say that covers all of the things that the average fan and the fanatic could deem necessary. Actually, we forgot about the fanatics. The insane fans who sit in Squad6 are given free tickets all season courtesy of the Bucks’ jolly Australian giant. Bogut provides the tickets, the fans provide the noise and the Bradley Center is the happy beneficiary.
Add in a coach who is known for his stern and serious demeanor who will have the challenge of being responsible for harnessing all of the personalities and talent on this roster and you’ve got yourself a team to watch. Think about all of that and try to tell yourself you’re only tuning in to see what Jennings is going to do next.
AND NOW BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING:
Holly’s right, but it’s not only the Milwaukee mainstays and the lovable cast-offs that act as extensions of last season’s Bucks allure. Ridnour, scrappy resurgent that he was, has signed with the Timberwolves after playing the year of his life last season for the Bucks. Charlie Bell and Dan Gazuric are gone, but no one weeps. In their stead, Milwaukee has added two understandably polarizing figures: Corey Maggette and Drew Gooden, both scorers tasked with improving the Bucks’ offense.
They are the key to what will become the new and improved — but still infinitely watchable and appealing — Milwaukee Bucks. This isn’t the Heat, a demolition project labeled as a remodel. It’s a series of renovations to emphasize the same familiar themes, to evoke the same feelings with different light and new architectural features. All in all, the Bucks boast everything they had and did a year ago, only with a few new deceptively appealing characters and a subtle shift toward offense’s dark arts. Chalk up Maggette and Gooden’s production as empty stat-hoarding if you must, but they’ll be gorging on points on a team that starved for them last season.
Last season’s Bucks were lovable for their flaws, and while many of those flaws will be hedged in the coming season as Maggette cycles to the free throw line, Gooden and Brockman hit the offensive glass, and Keyon Dooling and CDR generate some extra offense, each of those new additions brings with them their own delightful limitations. The new Bucks won’t be a Broadway performer’s rendition of a penetrating folk song, perfect in its pitch but devoid of all character. They’re still limited. They’re still a step below Miami, Orlando, and Boston. They’re still the ideal selection for League Pass viewing on a Wednesday night, when that nationally televised Nuggets game is the last thing you need. They’re still the Bucks, and they’re still perfect just the way they are.
NECESSARY ADDENDUM:
Even though he’s given a rather cursory treatment here, Brandon Jennings is pretty spectacular. His field goal percentage is painful, but to see his synergy with Bogut on the pick-and-roll, his quickness in limited space, and his on-ball defense…well, it’s always the little things, isn’t it? He may not be the total package yet, but Jennings has a lot going for him in ways both big and small.
PLAYFUL TUNES:
PLAYER WHO COULD BE AN IMPACT GUY BUT PROBABLY WON’T BE:
Who can ever tell with Skiles doling out the minutes? I’d say Chris Douglas-Roberts, but its feasible that he could turn his career on its head and turn out shooting mid-range jumpers for the Bucks all day, every day. I’d say Jon Brockman, if only because the rotation may not allow him the minutes he deserves to gobble up rebounds, but the Brochness Monster seems to be of Skiles’ brand. I’d say Larry Sanders, but Jennings bucked everything I thought I knew about Skiles and young, promising players. Every player on this roster who has the potential to contribute could be on Skiles’ call, so even a random guess is as good as mine.
YOU SHOULD TOTALLY WATCH BECAUSE:
Ahem. You have been reading, right?
YOU SHOULD TOTALLY HATE THIS TEAM BECAUSE:
Skiles, for all of his strengths, will be Skiles. Jennings, though gifted in so many ways, will be Jennings, and he’s no stranger to hoisting up a shot or 12 just for the hell of it. All of this means that the Bucks’ offense, though improved, will be the Bucks’ offense.
That’s about all I’ve got. They’re not as good offensively as you’d like them to be, and the new additions can only do so much. Otherwise, the Bucks are theatrical dynamite, a basketball fan’s dream, and quirky enough to funnel interest over the course of the entire year.
On October 23rd in the year 2010, the Portland Trailblazers sent Jerryd Bayless to the New Orleans Hornets in exchange for a conditional first round pick. That said, let’s not pretend this deal is about the Blazers. Portland is taking a mulligan on the pick they used to select Bayless two years ago, conveniently clearing a roster spot, and paving the way for Wesley Matthews. New Orleans is the team paying a price to make a deal, and at this stage, they are the party with the most certain reward. What (and when) the Hornets’ first rounder will eventually yield is anyone’s guess, but New Orleans’ immediate gains, though having depths unexplored, are promising in their definition.
Bayless is the box all wrapped up with a bow. The future first rounder is a mid-April wish that Christmas could come sooner.
To those who question what may lie within that paper and underneath that bow: you’re right to do so. To those who question whether what lies beneath is a gift at all: you are sadly, sadly mistaken. Bayless isn’t only a player worth having on your team. He’s also a player worth wanting on your team. The Hornets — or more specifically, Monty Williams — started with the latter and moved to the former; thanks to an accommodating GM and a coach’s whimsy, the talented and curiously utilized now-former Blazer is on his way to New Orleans.
So concludes a series of investigative moves to find Chris Paul’s backup. Some of the candidates for the gig (Willie Green? Seriously?) were curious to begin with, and others deemed unfit based on their play in camp and in the preseason. Bayless, if used optimally, is the answer, provided you ask the right questions.
If the Hornets are looking for a replacement for Darren Collison, they won’t find it in Bayless. He simply doesn’t have Collison’s experience or savvy as a playmaker, and attempting to groom him into such a player could end up an exercise in futility. That futility doesn’t extend from some talent discrepancy in Collison’s favor. In fact, it’s quite the contrary: with the proper system, team, and coaching, Bayless is easily the superior prospect. He doesn’t fit neatly into Collison’s mold, but his potential is also far too robust to fit into any mold at all. In Bayless, the Hornets now have an incredible, dynamic scoring guard that will do wonders both behind and alongside Chris Paul, and do so in ways that good ol’ Darren Collison could only dream.
The presence of Paul in New Orleans is even more brilliant than usual in this case. Not only is CP wonderful on his own merits, but his very presence should alleviate the most perturbing questions that have stalled Bayless’ career. No one within the Hornets organization will be looking for Bayless to be a “true point guard” as long as Paul is around, and the benefit of sharing a roster with the best point guard in the league thus offers Bayless one hell of an intangible benefit. He’s free to be himself: to drive, to score, to create, to kill.
I could walk you through some choice statistics — from win shares, to adjusted +/-, to per-minute production — that would illustrate Bayless’ various successes last season despite being forced into an uncomfortable role, but what’s the point? It’s rather clear that he can play, and just as crystalline that the gig in Portland wasn’t really for him. His New Orleans experience will be quite different from the start, so basing our conclusions of Bayless’ future on his highly divergent past would be missing every conceivable point. Unless Monty Williams is content to make New Orleans into Bayless’ new purgatory, the young guard’s career begins now. Come as you are, Jerryd. We’ve been waiting.
The self-propelling legend of Kevin Durant got a hell of a nudge yesterday, as the league’s favorite son was officially recognized as an all-encompassing basketball entity rather than merely a superstar small forward. Throughout the preseason, the Thunder have been utilizing Durant’s talents in various positional capacities, as noted by Darnell Mayberry of the Oklahoman:
Against Miami on Friday, Durant played all five positions. He started at his customary small forward spot, ran point guard late in the first quarter and slid to power forward midway through the second quarter.
“Kevin’s game is evolving,” said Thunder coach Scott Brooks. “He, like a lot of our guys, is not a finished product. He’s going to keep getting better. And there’s ways that I’m going to challenge him to get better… He has the ability to do a lot of things for us and do them well.”
It was the minutes Durant played at point guard and power forward that stood out most. At 6-10, Durant is by far the league’s tallest provisional point guard. His size allows him to see over the defense and read and react to whatever is thrown his way. And by initiating the offense, Durant nearly becomes unstoppable because of his shooting ability and improving playmaking skills. He had only one assist against the Heat, but Durant beat LeBron James off the dribble on several possessions, working his way into the lane where he created the option to either finish himself or dump off passes to cutting teammates.
The Thunder are a dream model for the positional revolution, and Durant is obviously a big part of that. However, just plugging KD into different conventional roles is like trying to reach uncharted lands by paved road. It’s certainly noteworthy that Brooks and the Thunder are planning the trip in the first place, but the methodology is flawed to say the least.
Durant is far too talented to be used as a tunnel-visioned scorer, and in Mayberry’s piece, KD goes on to mention how he’s been working on his ball-handling skills and playmaking. Awesome. Really. But those skills are better used as a way to accommodate the rest of OKC’s roster, not run an experiment with KD at point guard for the hell of it. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but it’s hardly the way to achieve real progress. The ultimate goal isn’t to have teams run more wonky experiments, but to find ways to let them maximize the talent at their disposal. Allowing Durant positional fluidity is one way to tap into various aspects of his game, but that kind of change can be very superficial. It may demonstrate the Durantula’s ability to defend all types of players, but he’s just as capable of fulfilling the same roles (scoring, playmaking, whatever) regardless of his positional designation. Putting him at point guard doesn’t just transform him into a better passer, an aspect of his game that’s very much a work in progress. Putting him at center also doesn’t transform him into a stereotypical big, and may actually be harmful to his game if he’s pigeon-holed into the responsibilities of a typical 5 as a result.
Is Brooks’ decision to open up the game for his more versatile players a sound one? Of course. But news like this shines as fool’s gold. Evolution is a beautiful thing for Durant, but taking KD out of his most effective spots and roles on the floor for the sake of fluid positionality (or is it desperation?) isn’t likely to be the way toward roster maximization. Not with his handle. Not with his frame. Durant is capable of being a positional wonder, and could very well use his versatile game and do-no-wrong image to turn into one of the revolution’s patron saints. In the meantime though, his ability to create for himself in isolation has been mistaken for a similar proficiency in doing so for his teammates, and his combination of leadership and selflessness mistaken for the credentials of a part-time floor general. In a tough spot, Durant can take care of some of the responsibilities normally attributed to a point guard, but the fact that he’s being pushed into that role (or the center position, or power forward, or whichever) with his current skill set isn’t much more progressive than the status quo.
The summer-long swell has brought us to this point. With the preseason rolling, another year of basketball is almost ready to crest. None of it really counts until the regular season tips, but the anticipation is absurdly thick. New teams, new players, new stories, new outcomes. It’s uncharted territory out there, and while I, too, have long been drawn in by the coming season’s wonderment, its eve brings me an unbelievable sense of dread.
There’s so very much to look forward to, and I’m as excited to see the Miami Heat, or DeMarcus Cousins’ inauguration, or D’Antoni’s Knicks (he’s been the head coach there for a bit now, but this is the first time the team’s ever been indisputably his) as anyone. Still, I can’t help but feel that 2010-’11 will be inescapable in its tragedy, as the path of one of the most impressive players I’ve ever seen play the game could be forever damned.
Not ‘damned’ in some hyper-moralistic sense, as I won’t be decreeing anything of the sort from the safety of an ivory tower. Instead, I fear that one of the season’s more promising and sincere threads will be doomed from the start, a verdict unbefitting our equally promising and sincere protagonist on a tale that needs no redemption, but only opportunity.
Yao is back. A box score will tell you as much. But there are no assurances that everything will be okay, as even the most encouraging quotes and news regarding Yao’s health treat basketball fans as the pitied children of a deserting parent. We’re big boys and girls. We can handle it. We know that Yao’s return isn’t business as usual, and that as much as Yao would like to, he’ll probably never return to form, reclaim his former glory, or do something that sounds equally trite. That part of all of our lives — yours, mine, Yao’s, the league’s — is over.
If only fairness crept into the basketball gods’ decision (Or in this case, is it just some kind of medical god that resides over matters of individual health and the human body? Issues of jurisdiction with injury are always tricky.) when they decided to flick and poke at the most vulnerable points of Yao’s lower body. If only what he represents both as a basketball player and as a person was but a small part of that discussion. Instead, the manner which decided Yao’s future was as cold as the operating tables he’s frequented, as each surgery and treatment knows not of who he is or how much he matters.
I’m honestly not sure how many NBA players, past or present, are more important than Yao. That kind of determination would require a knowledge of the league’s history far more intimate than my own. I will say this, though: in a league that currently boasts so many fantastic players, a potential greatest-of-all-time candidate, and various future all-timers in just about every capacity, none is more impressive. As a player, a person, a center, an icon…Yao has no contemporary holistic equal.
He’s a monster in this industry, and from his approach to the game to his marketing power, Yao is impossibly powerful. He’s faced a magnifying glass that few players in this league have ever known, but the gaze of billions on the other side didn’t burn him. He thrived. In spite of injuries to himself and his teammates, in spite of cultural hurdles, in spite of physical limitations, in spite of a trunk full of obstacles and curbs of every kind, he thrived. I’m sure that other players have conquered more insurmountable odds, but it’s Yao’s combination of on-court dominance, off-court hegemony, and omnipresent grandeur that make him an incredibly unique specimen.
His tale, which has featured all kinds of challenges, isn’t one of perseverance. It’s one of resilience. It’s not that Yao has persisted. It’s that in spite of everything he’s faced, Yao stands tarnished, bruised, scarred, and ready to be bent once again but never broken.
That’s where Amick and I may disagree, or at least, where I’d want to disagree. In one of his piece’s more rhetorically powerful moments, Amick pens that Yao’s “indomitable spirit, in case anyone wondered, is fully healed too.” I’ve never seen Yao’s spiritual health as anything less than an endless resource, and to say that his spirit is “healed” is almost a disservice to the miraculous fuel that powers a giant.
Yet even that can be taken from Yao, and in a sense, taken from us. We can see parallels in Yao’s struggles to those of players before him, and Bill Walton provides the most obvious point of comparison. But Yao’s narrative has the potential to be even more tragic than Walton’s, an empty finale for a hero whose only tragic flaw is chalked to forces squarely outside of his control.
Typically, with issues of athletic mortality, we prefer to think of the body’s surrender in cases such as these as being independent from the “spirit,” or at least from the spirit’s limitations. When Yao is done playing — whether that day comes in a year or in 10 — there will be countless pieces written, possibly even one by yours truly, about how although Yao’s body had failed him, his will never did or even could. I can only hope that by that point, such praise of Yao’s fortitude still holds true. His resiliency has no hyperbolic load to bear, but Yao is very much human, even if his height or defensive acumen tell otherwise. My great fear, the one which casts a shadow over what should otherwise be a marvelous year of hoops, is that this season will be the one to break him.
Maybe it could be a complication in his recovery, or a new injury altogether. Maybe it could just be a grimace after a sweeping hook that leaves an unexpected pain, or the emotional grate of enduring an extended comeback only to be met with limitations on his playing time. I’m cloudy on the possibilities, and fear doesn’t usually deal in specifics. All I know is that Yao’s future is more vulnerable than ever, and while seeing him take the court again is its own remarkable reward, doing so also means that he’s thrown back into the same fight that has downed him time after time. Knowing that Yao was exercising his will from the weight room, the practice court, and the sideline somehow felt safer, as if Yao, the Symbol, could live forever in that vacuum. NBA basketball is the payoff that Yao has worked so hard to achieve, but it also represents Yao’s battleground, and the source of so many of his trials.
I just wish he didn’t have to face any more of them. I wish Yao could spend the rest of his natural basketball-playing days just being a delightfully unconventional conventional center, baseline jumper-ing and baby hooking his way into eternity. Otherwise, there’s too much of a reason to worry that once Yao does return (preseason games don’t really count, y’know), not only will it never be the same, but Yao himself will both know it and lament it. That it will eat at him, and ultimately, consume him. Yao has been truly indomitable to this point, but every man has his limits. It’s scary to think that under the fireworks and fanfare of the ’10-’11 campaign, we may finally see Yao’s.
If you’ll excuse me, I have some blog doting to do.
M. Haubs and Jay Aych have been absolutely killing it with their previews and coverage of the FIBA World Championships at The Painted Area. This is nothing new. TPA has been an established go-to source for both NBA and international basketball content for some time, and the only thing that gives me more pleasure than taking in one of Haubs’ or Aych’s fantastic pieces is seeing them get their due.
And a plug by Fran Fraschilla on today’s Team USA broadcast? Not too shabby.
Fraschilla: “You know, Mark, I love reading the blogs. We have a guy, Jay Aych, The Painted Area, great blog this week. (I hope I said his name right.) But he made a great point about teams in Europe and international play, they run their offense like the Utah Jazz run it – very crisp, disciplined, lot of touches. And that’s why the Jazz give teams in the league – you know, Jerry Sloan’s team gives teams so much trouble. Team USA is not used to guarding all 24 seconds of the shot clock, in my opinion.”
For reference, Fraschilla was referencing this post by Aych following USA’s win over Brazil:
This is not a surprise as NBA players don’t see that type of off-ball movement in the U.S.–lots more moving parts to deal with in FIBA ball. Brazil ran a lot of continuity sets, like the ones Magnano’s Argentina teams used to perplex Team USA with. It’s not just pick/roll that befuddles Team USA, it’s the off-ball action and screens coming from all angles. You will see a lot of variations on Princeton sets or flex sets in this tourney. Constant offensive motion is a staple of int’l basketball. Offenses with reads, counterplays, and counterplays to the counterplays.
If we were preparing Team USA for what to expect in this tourney, we’d tell them that it’s like playing the Jazz many times. And if you ask NBA players about defending the Jazz offense, we’re sure most would say it’s not fun. (More on this topic as it relates to Team USA, from ’07.)
Somewhere along the way, the Oklahoma City Thunder became every NBA fan’s mistress. We have and hold our respective teams in injury and in health, in good times and bad, until death do us part, but even the truest of die-hards have been known to flirt with League Pass now and again. It’s nothing major. Just to see what else is out there. Just to pass the time when our teams are away on business. It doesn’t mean anything, we tell ourselves.
But it means everything. NBA fans have wandering eyes, and the Thunder ooze sex appeal. We can try our best to explain away the Thunder’s allure, but there is genuine meaning in it.
Kevin Durant is the obvious draw. Not only is he a phenomenal All-World scorer with a rapidly improving all-around game, but his on-court demeanor and obsessive hunger for all things basketball blend together beautifully. His feet are planted firmly on the ground, even as he reaches higher and higher with his trademarked, absurdly long arms. The man simply loves what he does and works hard to improve himself, and that’s endearing. That he happens to already be an incredible player while maintaining that hunger is what elevates him to cult favorite and Wheaties box role model.
Of course, Durant is but one reason why the Thunder have captivated NBA audiences. They’re young and new, and like it or not, hip. They’re athletic and dynamic, from Russell Westbrook’s jams to Serge Ibaka’s swats. Their success is somehow bizarre, improbable, and yet all part of the plan. They’re 50-win underdogs, tightly knit with an old-school, one-goal fabric, but envisioned with modern basketball sensibilities. There is, really and truly, nothing quite like the Thunder.
There’s also nothing quite like Kevin Durant’s other team. The one that won’t make your steadfast commitment as an NBA fan the least bit confusing. The one that’s playing right now, in the stretch of the off-season that’s most barren.
They’re young. They’re athletic. They’re hungry and humble. They’re incredibly talented even if they’re in a bit over their heads. They are wholly committed to playing great defense, and above all, they have Durant to lead them. There is, really and truly, nothing quite like Team USA either, and if one were forced to conjure the most natural team comparison? It just might be Oklahoma City.
But even though the national squad may bear the country’s name on their unis, the Thunder are America’s Team. For some reason, Team USA has yet to really grab hold of the basketball nation’s attention, despite the oddly fascinating collection of players and the highly competitive field at the FIBA World Championships.
What is it that basketball fans want, exactly? What makes the Thunder so special when Team USA, despite taking two of OKC’s players and so many of its components, can’t find widespread appeal with a nearly identical formula? Are we really to believe that Derrick Rose and Andre Iguodala are less riveting as basketball talents than Jeff Green and James Harden? Is it simply the nature of the World Championships to have a team like this one fly under the radar?
Regardless, this year’s Team USA has been given a rather ho-hum treatment thus far, despite carrying with them the same underdog appeal that people value in the Thunder. Smartwriters the NBA world over have told you that while the Americans have the most talent on their roster, Spain should be considered the tournament favorite. They are the likely champions. Yet while the Thunder’s relative standing is a substantial part of their charm, Team USA gets no benefit from a similar underdog aura.
I think ultimately, what separates OKC from USA is an issue of ownership, and what that ownership signifies. There’s no question that Oklahoma City owns the Thunder. They proved that at every home game last season, as Durant and company benefited from one of the most insanely supportive home arenas in the league:
At least a part of the Thunder’s widespread appeal is the understandable desire to be a part of that. That, ladies and gents, is a truly special fan base, going absolutely bonkers for an interesting team playing meaningful games.
That hearth of basketball fandom in Oklahoma City is an affirmation: an affirmation of the dedication of the players and the Thunder organization. Team USA, for whatever reason, isn’t perceived to have that same level of dedication. Nevermind that Mike Krzyzewski and Jerry Colangelo have worked hard to make the USA Basketball program as consistent as possible. Nevermind that stars like Kevin Durant have said how badly they want to win, and how much that means coming straight from the Durantula’s mouth. Nevermind that this year’s team came to work, put in the time, and prepared for the challenges ahead.
Apparently none of that matters. As a result, not only does Team USA face questions over the team’s intrigue and the games’ meaning, but they lack that dedicated fan base. They lack ownership. There’s nothing to want to be a part of, because the national team has no dedicated following. They technically belong to all Americans — or even anyone who chooses to actively root for this collection of NBA players, if you’d like to take it that far — but the diffusion of that ownership over such a huge number of supposed “fans,” combined with disappointment over the lack of top-tier NBA talent, and a misunderstanding of the value of the World Championships makes Team USA more of a passing thought for the average NBA fan than anything significant.
Team USA has failed to intrigue basketball fans because of an assumed lack of effort and interest. Events like the World Championships, which don’t have the benefit of the Olympic marketing machine, then become uninteresting by association. So begins the vicious cycle, whereby international competition is uninteresting because Team USA is disinterested, and Team USA is disinterested because the competition itself must somehow be uninteresting. But before things get too out of control, consider the following: If Team USA is no longer disinterested, the team is as charismatic and likable as ever in spite of its limitations, and the World Championship field is saturated with top-notch international talent, where does that leave us?
It leaves us on Friday, August 27, 2010 — the eve of the FIBA World Championships. Cling to your contradictory love of the Thunder and indifference toward Team USA if you will, but starting tomorrow, an invested and engaged USA squad will begin to hold court against some of the top national teams in the world. Team USA won’t be around forever, and they’re not looking for much. Just a little love. Just a little attention. Just to be your summer fling on the side, until you go back home in October.
It doesn’t have to mean anything to you, but it could mean everything for them.
NBA players do an insane amount of traveling on the regular, but playing for Team USA has given a select group of NBAers the opportunity to travel the world. See the sights. Visit a Cheesecake Factory on each continent.
And because professional basketball players are just like you and I, only bigger, far richer, professional, and basketball players, sometimes they take photos like this one:
There are a million bits to watch as Team USA resumes its pre-Worlds exhibition schedule this weekend, but keep the Americans’ use and execution of the zone defense front and center. There are a lot of things Team USA has absolutely no control over at this stage (the limitations of the roster being the most obvious), but Mike Krzyzewski’s choice to employ more and more zone is a philosophical error that could up costing the Americans immensely.
When Team USA broke camp in Las Vegas last month, before reuniting this week in New York for more workouts, implementing a zone defense wasn’t even on its radar. Pressure was the word of the week, with U.S. coaches convinced that the team’s length and athleticism would make it a dangerous pressing unit in the upcoming FIBA World Championships.
However, recent circumstances — specifically the withdrawal of most of the team’s top big men — has led to a shift in that thinking. With Amar’e Stoudemire, David Lee and Brook Lopez bowing out of the tournament, which begins Aug. 28, rebounding has become a major point of concern. Tyson Chandler and JaVale McGee are the only natural centers on the roster, while Kevin Love and Lamar Odom are the only true power forwards.
Playing zone, coaches say, will position more bodies near the backboards. To that end, the U.S. has tapped assistant coach Jim Boeheim, who has employed the zone at Syracuse for more than three decades, to teach the principles of the defense to the U.S. team.
In principle, the zone offers a nice counter to Team USA’s more aggressive man-to-man sets, and could briefly confuse their opponents as the defense makes a stylistic shift. However, the zone approach really is getting away what this group does best, and making some fairly odd concessions in the process.
The zone defense is, by nature, reactive. It shifts and adjusts to what the opponent tries to do, in an attempt to deny them from reaching the court’s prime real estate. A well-executed zone is quick to react and meticulous in its rotations, which is often a product of extended preparation, trial, and adjustment. Just by understanding the fundamental nature of the zone we already begin to see some of the problems with Team USA implementing it. Team USA’s specific strengths (speed, anticipation, athleticism) and weaknesses (lack of size, shot-blocking, defensive rebounding) pretty much require a pressure-heavy approach. It’s the best strategy to help the Americans disguise just how cold they’re capable of going on offense, while also hiding the defensive inadequacies on the back line.
The zone would likely help the Americans to defend the post, particularly when Tyson Chandler is resting, but at what cost? The biggest concessions of the zone are rebounding and three-pointers, one of which is already problematic given the makeup of this roster, and the other has been noted repeatedly by Team USA players and coaches as a point of defensive emphasis. “Don’t give up threes to these guys,” they say. “Every opponent on the floor can shoot,” they say. “We have to respect their range,” they say. So naturally, Team USA moves to feature the zone defense more prominently, as a way to exacerbate their own rebounding concerns while also surrendering more open three-point attempts than ever. And that’s if the zone is at least fairly competent, which seems like a long-shot due to to Team USA’s limited practice time.
The zone isn’t some catch-all for when man-to-man coverage fails. Like any defensive system, it takes the proper personnel, but even more importantly, a certain amount of time for absorption and implementation. A group of NBAers accustomed to playing man/help defense year-round won’t run a proper zone after a weekend seminar.
Also, playing a true zone in the FIBA World Championships isn’t the same as throwing in a look against UConn, or an NBA team experimenting against bewildered opponents in mid-January. Other national teams are filled with professional players who encounter a ton of zone defense on a regular basis. They won’t be baffled when Russell Westbrook doesn’t go with them through a screen. They’ll just set up the offense, hit the high post, and milk the hell out of backdoor cuts.
This is nothing against Boeheim. He’s a vital member of the Team USA staff, but I’d argue that he’s most useful as an offensive coach; who better to teach the players the best way to attack the zones they’re sure to encounter in the World Championships than a man intimately familiar with the scheme’s weaknesses? But defensively, Team USA desperately needs to take control. They need to dictate, not react. Team USA’s guards and wings should be flying about at all times: jumping passes, pressing full-court, trapping at every opportunity. Deviating from that level of pressure exposes Team USA in potentially damning ways, and handcuffs a roster teeming with athleticism.
