I didn’t love King of the Hill when I was a kid.

King of the Hill was boring. It was the worst kind of bait-and-switch for a kid. Animated television was about creating memorable moments detached from reality silly enough to capture the minds of young ones. Watching King of the Hill when I was 5 was like eating an apple only to find out way too late that a worm had already buried itself deep into the fibers and defiled the core. It looked the part of a kid-friendly cartoon, but the story, the pace and the morals weren’t meant for us youngsters. The Simpsons, as warm and charming and socially aware as it was, was the perfect caricature for little kids to giggle and grow into. King of the Hill offered little accommodation, which is why, for more years of my life than not, I paid no attention.

As much as I hate myself today for ignoring the show for as long as I did, some things just don’t make sense until you’re older.

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I didn’t love the San Antonio Spurs as a kid. I didn’t love them in high school. Hell, part of me still feels guilty for loving them now. I’m a detached fan of the NBA with no true allegiance, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it all came back to the Spurs crushing every team I’ve ever dared to love.

My first real memories as a fan came in 1999 when the Knicks fought their way through the Eastern bracket and improbably landed in the NBA Finals. There was balladry to their run as they toppled key and iconic rivals to get to the highest stage. There was real emotional weight to Allan Houston’s last second runner, full-court dash and subsequent fist pump in Game 5 of the first round matchup against the Miami Heat – one of the indelible basketball images in my mind.

The Spurs crushed them in a cruel gentleman’s sweep, pitying the Knicks enough to give them one victory. I hated them for that. Duncan went about his dominance with that same dispassionate off-centered gaze. It’s a gaze I’ve never been able to escape.

The same gentleman’s sweep befell the 2004-05 Suns, the team that made me realize what basketball meant to me. I still assert that things would have been different had Joe Johnson not fractured his orbital bone in the Dallas series, but it didn’t matter. The Spurs found a way to crush me once more. I may never love another team the way I loved those Suns. And I’ll never truly be able to embrace the Spurs with open arms. I know what they’re capable of. And no one wants ever wants their heart broken.

But I’m a bit older now, and it’s hard not to accept, respect, and admire the Spurs and their ability to adapt while planting themselves firmly in a time-tested system.

—

Last night’s 40-point loss to the Blazers was maybe as good of an attempt at physical humor by the Spurs as the instant hack-a-Shaq in their 2008-09 season opener. There is something absurdly funny and charming about the Spurs’ (though more specifically, Gregg Popovich’s) devotion to their fundamental beliefs. What Popovich did was pragmatic. All-Star Weekend is coming up, and getting his best players the rest they need while getting his bench up to speed is a fantastic idea. One that no other coach would dare put into motion. But placing these fundamental set of ideals on the highest pedestal is what has created the immaculate machine of success that we call the Duncan-era Spurs. It’s what made King of the Hill such a great show. It’s also what keeps them both overlooked.

Despite the many different iterations of the Spurs team in the Duncan era, the way we frame our discourse hasn’t changed much. They’re still tedious and boring, which was largely due to their defensive reputation (though they are much better on offense than defense today). They operate in retrograde; “a betrayal of the league’s new era of supreme athleticism,” as Kevin Arnovitz put it.

But why do we continue to think that way? Why did we think that way? Today, we appreciate the Spurs a lot more, though partially due to a preemptive nostalgic guilt, as we’re mentally prepared to lose the league’s most resilient institution soon. We celebrate the way they’re still able to get it done with superior spacing and chemistry, knowing full well that a few years ago, we all hated them for it.

As effective as the system has been for the Spurs, it’s entirely at fault for the perceptions we have. How else could two of the most dynamic guards in recent memory go largely unnoticed for their careers? I hated Tony Parker without having much of a reason why. He’s as quick, as resourceful, as effective as most star point guards in the league. But somehow, he isn’t as fun. Manu Ginobili is the most creative wing in the game and easily one of the best two-way players. But the first thing that comes to mind is flopping. Parker and Ginobili provided quirkiness and improvisation to a set system, yet the image of the whole is more powerful than the individual. The Popovichean system drapes a grayish veil over the players, keeping them grounded as cogs in a larger work, but also keeps their dynamism largely imperceptible to the fan.

I’ve seen the King of the Hill series finale at least five times now, and it hasn’t gotten old yet. The show’s a lot more fun to watch when you can relate. In its 13 years, King of the Hill was often used as a stop-gap on Sundays to fill in for the absence of more showy, more excitable series. It carved out a niche for itself, staying grounded as only a show with Hank Hill as the protagonist can. The show sat in that 7:30 p.m. timeslot so comfortably, it was easy to forget it existed at all. But those who were keen enough to tune in found a show with warmth and heart. It didn’t harass you with laughter, but its stories made sure you were smirking throughout the ride.

“We get guys who want to do their job and go home and aren’t impressed with the hoopla,” says Popovich. “One of the keys is to bring in guys who have gotten over themselves. They either want to prove that they can play in this league—or they want to prove nothing. They fill their role and know the pecking order. We have three guys who are the best players, and everyone else fits around them.”

via The Tao of Pop | Sports Illustrated, L. Jon Wertheim (3/9/09)

There are only so many more years that the Spurs can stave off extinction. They can continue to reboot their supporting cast, but their main attraction is breaking down. Duncan carries the same dispassionate demeanor of his youth, but his body is wearing away. What are the Spurs without their ultimate embodiment, their protagonist? What happens when the Duncan leaves the game for good? King of the Hill’s finale provides us with clues, but no definitive answer. The torch was passed on at the end of the show as Hank and his son Bobby finally found common ground in their tumultuous relationship. But it’s a TV show. There was no doubt of that happening. Hank Hill was based on many men, and his relationship with his son was based on many family relationships. But in the NBA, there will only ever be one Tim Duncan.

Makes me wonder how we’ll remember these Spurs once they’re gone. They’ve killed a lot of beauty in their day. They’ve created a lot too.

 “I wonder if…a part of us is sort of sad that everything about our life now can basically be told before it happens. And every time we see these situations like Tebow or Lin, where it just makes no sense whatsoever, and everyone was wrong, it makes people happy.” – Chuck Klosterman, B.S. Report podcast 2/17/12

We live in a society that craves information. Whether it’s our daily lives of accessing news via Twitter or consuming advanced statistics for various sports that we never could have conceived a decade ago, the need to put facts and numerical values behind what we experience in everyday life has become a near necessity. Every once in a while, however, it’s time to put the numbers away and just accept things for how they are as they happen. Maybe, as Klosterman put it, this is why we’re enjoying the Jeremy Lin Experience so much. Sure, there are numbers associated with him (e.g. seven game winning streak, 38 points against the Lakers, 15 assists versus Dallas, etc.), but years from now, we’ll remember the feelings we had watching him more than any statistics.

On the flip side, for those of you that live in the present, don’t care about how we’ll remember the Lin Era, and crave information here and now, I’ve got you covered. More specifically, basketball-reference.com’s new Play Index Plus has you covered. If you haven’t checked it out, I highly encourage you to do so if you are into breaking down stats like never before. Using Play Index Plus, I pulled some numbers on Jeremy Lin’s performance thus far. Let’s take a look “Linside the Numbers” through this past Sunday’s games.

HOME AND AWAY SPLITS

Home is where the heart is, and it’s also where Lin feels most comfortable shooting the basketball as he shoots significantly higher from the floor in New York than on the road. Though this generally is the case with many players in the league, the fact that he’s doing it in Madison Square Garden has been one of the more stunning aspects of the story. To come in as an undrafted kid and light up the most famous arena in the world the way he has is a tremendous accomplishment. For the past two and a half weeks, he has turned MSG into a must see, Broadway-level show and single handedly re-energized a fan base that had all but given up hope on the season. They say that big time players step up in big time games; so far, Lin has stepped up on the biggest stage that we have in the NBA.

QUARTER BREAKDOWN

Lin has done an exceptional job starting and closing games; his first and fourth quarters are clearly where he excels. Unfortunately for the Knicks, his first quarter performance has not translated into total team success. Through Sunday, in the seven games that Lin started, the Knicks have led after the first quarter four times. Contrast that to the fourth quarter in which the Knicks have outscored their opposition in the fourth in seven of the eight games Lin has played in during the Linsanity stretch. Though there’s no way to conclusively prove why he has been such an effective closer, my assumption is that due to the 66 game schedule this year, other teams are already beginning to wear down from playing so many games in such a short period of time. Lin, on the other hand, has fresher legs than almost everyone after coming in mid-season which allows him to have just enough extra energy to blow by defenders late in games.

SHOT CHART

You’ll notice the shaded red area on the left side of the court. Take a good look at it; your eyes are not deceiving you. Yes, everything you have heard thus far about how much Lin loves to go right is true, and few things make it more clear than this. I’m not sure how best to put this in perspective. That Lin has made six more shots from the left side of the key than you or I have? That he’s made one shot  from the left side for every letter in KNICKS? If you want to dig further, you’ll find that three of the six makes, all of them deep in the corner, came against the Lakers meaning that in the 18 other games he has appeared in this year, he’s made three shots from the left side. In theory, the game plan is to simply force him right. In practice, he is quick enough to split the defense and penetrate the paint to avoid going left.

Luckily for Lin, the entire floor is open to him, and he has been able to take advantage of it. Lin does a fantastic job of getting to the hoop as he has 60 FGA at the rim thus far. Going by the percentages, Lin is most comfortable shooting the mid-range jumper; he is knocking down those shots (10 feet-3 point line) at a .605 clip thus far.  From beyond the arc though, Lin struggles by converting only 32% of his attempts. Of course, he did make the big one when it counted…

COMPARISON TO OTHER TOP POINT GUARDS

At the end of the day, most people want to know if Lin is merely a product of hype as a result of a combination of playing in America’s largest media market and his underdog background story or if he really can compete with some of the best point guards in the league.  The following charts compare him to two point guards also playing their first full NBA season (Kyrie Irving and Ricky Rubio), two all-around point guards (Steve Nash and Chris Paul), and a true scoring point guard (Derrick Rose).  I took a look at Assist Percentage, Turnover Percentage, Offensive Rating, Defensive Rating, and Player Efficiency Rating.

ASSIST PERCENTAGE AND TURNOVER PERCENTAGE

As someone who has been painted as a primarily scoring point guard, you might expect Lin’s Assist Percentage to be lower than the star PGs in the league, but he actually holds up well. Paul is in a class of his own when it comes to doling out assists, but you hear much more about Rubio’s assists than Lin when they are, in fact, very similar. Irving has the lowest Assist Percentage out of this group primarily due to being forced to be a scoring point guard and, based on watching Cavs games this year, his teammates failing to convert open opportunities set up by him. Rose has one of the most talented teams in the league surrounding him, but he too is looked at as a scoring first guard.

The Turnover Percentage stats are more interesting. People are quick to point out that the biggest flaw in Lin’s game is how much he turns the ball over, but since he was forced to shoulder so much of the load on a New York team without Amar’e and Carmelo, his Turnover Percentage wasn’t as bad as you’d think. While it’s the second highest out of this group examined, it is comparable to Steve Nash this year. The real surprise is that Lin’s TO% of 20.2 is nearly identical to Nash’s TO% in the 2004-05 season (20.3); you may recall this is the year that Nash won the NBA MVP. Not that I’m in any way advocating Lin for MVP, just pointing out that given the number of times Lin had to handle the ball, his turnover problem may be slightly overblown for the time being.

OFFENSIVE RATING AND DEFENSIVE RATING

At least Lin is consistent with where he ranks with this group: second to last amount of points created, second best points allowed.  Yes, this is yet another statistic in which Chris Paul cements his status as best true point guard in the league. Lin’s overall contribution of +3 (ORtg-DRtg) is on par with Irving, Nash, and Rubio thus far in the season. Everyone has been so enamored with his offensive explosion that Lin’s defense has largely been both underrated and under reported on during this stretch. Of these point guards, Lin leads in blocks per 36 minutes (0.6, tied with Irving), Block Percentage (1.3%, tied with Irving), steals per 36 minutes (3.0), and Steal Percentage (4.2%). Is he Gary Payton? Absolutely not. He is able to competently defend opposing point guards which, combined with Tyson Chandler handling the paint, has shifted the paradigm from previous years’ “The Knicks can’t play defense!” narrative to them being a top ten defense in the league.

PLAYER EFFICIENCY RATING

Lastly, we’ll look at how Lin compares with his Player Efficiency Rating, the best one-number metric we currently have to measure a player’s performance. How does Lin check out?  Let’s see…comparable to Nash, slightly ahead of Rose, significantly ahead of Rubio, slightly behind (odds on favorite Rookie of the Year) Kyrie Irving, and well behind (best pure PG in the NBA) Chris Paul. Not too bad, Mr. Lin. The real test will come throughout the rest of the season as Lin learns to work with Carmelo Anthony. As the burden of handling the ball as much is reduced, I would expect to see Lin’s scoring and assist numbers decrease which will most likely have a negative effect on  PER.

What can we say overall? Yes, the hype for Lin is multiplied exponentially due to the fact that he plays for New York; however, Linsanity is more than just a feel good story. He has put up solid numbers thus far and would be a good point guard no matter where he played.  The fun part will come when he regresses to the mean like so many others who have had hot starts in their career; what we don’t know is exactly what his mean looks like. Regardless, he will be sure to hold our Linterest as the season progresses.

Photo by Lea Lea from Flickr

So as you’ve probably heard by now Greg Oden is having another surgery on his leg. This isn’t so much news as it is a perpetuation of some twisted, mutilated version of the circle of life. At this point we’ve all come to expect it. We know the story; we’ve grieved over the tragedy, examined, analyzed and expounded upon the loss and heartbreak. We tried to contextualize and comprehend the visceral sadness that accompanied Greg Oden; we found ourselves looking for some meaning or cruel truth about fate in one man’s very unfortunate draw. We defended Greg Oden, remained adamant that he was the correct pick. We hoped that he could get healthy. We held on tightly to the small samples of his performances; we pointed to his extremely high PER and phenomenal rebounding numbers. We salivated and yearned at the possibility. We knew that if he did he’d prove to people he was a once in a generation center, the next in line behind Russell, Kareem, Hakeem, and Shaq. We dreamed of a Roy-Aldridge-Oden tandem hoisting the O’Brien trophy, bringing this city the triumph it so earnestly and desperately covets. We made jokes to cope, curbing the pang of loss with the fleeting relief of a one liner. We waited, delaying what we all seemed to know was inevitable. We were sure that if we just gave it time that eventually he’d be healthy. We were dejected. We were beaten down, defeated. But this is different.

When the Oden news broke it wasn’t accompanied with the usual depression and dejection. I didn’t feel the inescapable sadness or feel the need to come to grips with yet another devastating injury. There was no bargaining, no hoping, no “just give him time to get healthy.” To be honest, there was nothing. I felt totally absent. The anger, the despair, the inherent defensiveness that had become inextricably linked to these seemingly annual surgery reports was replaced by an emptiness. For whatever reason I couldn’t feel. I was detached, numb.

I’m still not totally sure what to make of my reaction. Maybe with Brandon Roy’s retirement the illusion was gone. Maybe in some ways I’d already resigned myself to this fate. Maybe it was to the point where Greg Oden felt more like an ethereal concept than a tangible person, that somehow talking about or knowing anything about Greg Oden was like trying to realize utopia.  Maybe I had moved on. Maybe I was tired. Maybe I couldn’t handle it anymore. Maybe I was protecting myself. Maybe in this case sports had gotten a little too real.

What I do know is that I have the luxury of displacement. These aren’t my knee injuries, this isn’t my life.  I can replace the unfulfilled promise of Oden dominance with Lamarcus Aldridge turnarounds and Nicolas Batum chase down blocks. I can renew my faith and continue my enjoyment of sports through different vessels. That’s the nature of fandom. We can feel the pain, we can empathize and wax poetic about the injustice but we don’t face the real  consequences.

For Greg Oden there is no escape, there’s no distance. The knee injuries aren’t simply news or another chapter in a franchises historically awful luck. For Greg this is life. His existence has come to be defined by horrible injuries and crippling disappointment.  There’s no way to totally comprehend how devastating this must be. There’s a lot of power in that absence; sometimes nothingness can speak volumes. I have no idea how Greg Oden must be feeling.  Maybe that’s why I’m so lost.

[Stephen] Jackson’s relationship with Skiles seemingly has disintegrated. In an interview with Rod Burks of Channel 4 (NBC) in Milwaukee, Jackson said: “We don’t have no relationship like I’ve had with other coaches and I don’t expect to have one. Too much stuff has happened.”

Via Jackson, Skiles Are All Business, 2/16/12

 

When asked if he has a future in Milwaukee, Jackson shook his head.

“Not at all,” Jackson told HOOPSWORLD. “It’s obvious, you can see that. I’m just waiting until my situation is different. I’m coming to work every day and keeping myself prepared so that when my situation does get better, I’m ready to go.”

Via Jackson Doesn’t See A Future In Milwaukee, 2/18/12

It’s getting ugly with Jackson and the Bucks. They’ve lost seven of their last nine, with the two wins coming in Cleveland (by one in overtime) and Toronto. I was at the Toronto game and it was far from an inspiring win — poor defense, lots of turnovers, bad shot selection. I wasn’t covering it, so I can’t speak to what the mood was in Milwaukee’s locker room, but the team was just a day removed from its point guard questioning his coach’s decision to sit Jackson and then taking an uncharacteristic four shots in a losing effort at home.

I saw Jackson score 17 points on 11 shots in 32 minutes and hoped that maybe things would get better. Since then, he’s shot 27.8% in 19 minutes per game. He keeps saying in interviews that he’s being professional, supporting his teammates and keeping ready, but he also keeps saying he wants to play more. There’s also this:

“I would love to [play in Orlando],” Jackson said. “Dwight has said a couple of times that he wants me to be with him. When you get a compliment like that from a big man like Dwight, it means a lot. Tim Duncan always steps up for me and says I’m the ultimate teammate too. When I have guys like that speaking up for me, I must have been doing something right throughout my whole career. I know my situation is going to get better eventually and I’m just going to keep being professional and keep my mouth closed.”

Via Jackson Doesn’t See A Future In Milwaukee, 2/18/12

Look, I’m not going to blast him. You don’t need me to point out the problem with the last sentence of that quote. Just know that I’m facepalming and I want to take him aside and tell him to take his own advice. As a fan of his, I want to protect him.

Jackson is a great teammate. Guys have loved him everywhere he’s gone. He does more good off the court than you know. He’s loyal, intense, emotional. He cares about winning and he’s honest to a fault. He’s made mistakes, big mistakes, and this isn’t the first time he’s publicly complained about a team that’s paying him a salary higher than his  market value. If he thinks something is unfair, he’s going to speak up. It’s just that speaking up isn’t always the best idea. Not when your team is losing, not when you’re playing the worst basketball of your career.

I hate that Jackson’s doing this because I know what will come of it. People will call him stupid, people will call him names. They’ll do this without knowing his story, without getting that the overconfidence that made him demand a ridiculous extension is the reason he believed he could make it in the NBA after being cut 15 times.

All of this is so frustrating. It’s also so predictable, after the Andrew Bogut injury. Hope he gets traded.

Wesley Yang wrote a provocative article about Asian-Americans and the looming cloud of ancestral culture for New York Magazine last May. It was an interesting piece, outlining with specific examples and case studies on how Asian culture has mass-produced successful teens, but mediocre Americans. I’ve read it a handful of times, each time reacting slightly different: an emphatic nod, a wince, a vehement disagreement.

There are great points in the article; a few I was afraid to admit to myself. If it isn’t already clear from my last name, I’m an Asian-American. I’m small, and at times, I can be unassuming and meek. Like Yang, I’m not always so comfortable in my own skin. But there was some gravity in Jeremy Lin’s performance against the Los Angeles Lakers Friday night. Every single one of his possessions had me on the floor, overwhelmed with pride and unfiltered elation. I’d never screamed so loud, and it’d been a long time since a single game moved me to tears. Whether it’s been officially bestowed upon him or not, Jeremy Lin carries the hopes and dreams of entire Asian generations on his shoulders. I struggle to think of another moment where we as a community had been so proud of who we are.

No one really knows what to expect from Lin anymore. What was supposed to be a comedown game against the Lakers became something miraculous. We don’t know how long he can keep this up, and for the many (myself included) who have been somewhat skeptical of this run, his play continues to suspend our doubt, almost force-feeding us reasons to believe. Perhaps the most tantalizing reason is Lin’s probing of the lanes, providing us an almost unfair tease given the personnel around him and the image that conjures. Of course, he’d be taking cues from another unheralded point guard whose unlikely background made opportunities scarce.

This phenomenon is more than just a celebration of points on the board, right? What is Linsanity? How does he affect the Asian-American community, and the community of Asian immigrants worldwide? What do we see in Jeremy Lin?

He’s dominated Twitter for the past week, but the tweets that strike me the most are the ones attempting to lump Lin and Yao Ming together. No, Jeremy Lin is not an addendum to Yao Ming’s legacy. No, Linsanity doesn’t render Yao’s time in the league obsolete. No one can replicate what Yao did as an ambassador for the game, nor will anyone be able to duplicate the refined artistry of his post game standing 7’6”. Yao was always a singular case. While he was very much his own person (who else could even dream of being Yao Ming?), it’s impossible to separate Yao from China. His will was China’s will. His effort was China’s effort. He was built to serve his homeland; to propagate his two loves with the world: his country, and basketball. For me, that isn’t what Jeremy Lin is about.

“You are American!” my parents always tell me. They say so with smiles and sardonic inflection. I am. I’m American. I was born in California, I don’t speak my native tongue all too well, and I’ve never been to any part of Asia (though I would love to). At a young age, I was taught essential Asian cultural doctrines, filial piety being chief among them. Respect your elders, and don’t let them down. They’ve sacrificed everything for this one golden opportunity you have here in America. They’ve worked, prayed, and cried tears of blood for you. Don’t waste time. Work hard, study, practice, be a good human being. I’ve seen my parents let down once before. I never want to see that again. We learn that sacrifices need to be made for the good of oneself and one’s family. That may or may not include the dissolution of dreams.

But I’m American! What do I have if I don’t have dreams? The typical high-ranking professions are the gold standard for Asian parents. They’re financially stable, a mark of prestige, and always hiring. But we don’t all dream of being doctors, lawyers, and financial analysts. For those of us who don’t quite fit those specific molds, we’re stuck in crisis. We struggle in a tug-of-war between our ingrained ancestral identity –our filial piety, our duty to carry out the will of the family –and our own dreams. Some of us never find that balance, relinquishing our passions for a life built around crippling pragmatism or bitterly abandoning our ancestry completely. But some of us do find the balance to appease elements of our past, present, and future.

Jeremy Lin has done this, and it’s why he’s so important. He proves there’s another way. Watching Lin knife into the lane and score over soaring giants, it’s impossible to imagine him doing anything else with his life. But it could have been so different. His entire basketball career prior to this remarkable week has been a cyclical routine of underappreciation and invisibility. He could have left it all. We know about his Harvard degree in economics. But he had the courage and resolve to stick to his dream. And that’s where the ethnocentrism melts away and the purity of his story emerges.

Jeremy Lin is humble, spiritual, and disciplined. He is also fearless, aggressive, and creative.  He’s found his mode of expression and his definition of success. Whether he blossoms into a legitimate NBA star or shatters his glass slipper sitting at the end of the bench is of little importance to me. Ethan Sherwood Strauss may be right. He may never exist as anything other than Jeremy Lin, the symbol — but only because the symbol does not stray far (if at all) from Jeremy Lin, the individual. Beyond the ability to galvanize an entire population of Asian-Americans or the ability to spin the narrative of the stereotypical Asian overachiever, what inspires me most is how comfortable he is with his abilities and his place among the best basketball players in the world – how comfortable he is with himself.  While I was raised to believe in a culturally-assigned definition of success, more than ever, I have faith in my ability to form my own definition. If Jeremy Lin has proven anything, it’s just how vital being true to oneself is.

Lin has found his mode of expression; a force with the power to subvert preconceptions, a force that highlights the individual in positive and negative light, a force that can articulate dreams so vividly, fruition is the only plausible end. He’s found it in his relentless forays to the rim, finishing plays with an improbable grace and flourish –something he’s done long before the lights of New York shined down upon him.

What do we see in Jeremy Lin? Ourselves – and the options in life that we may not have truly believed existed before.

I’m Asian. I’m American. I’m small, unassuming, and meek. But I have a voice and I have control. And I hope that one day I’ll be able to showcase it as confidently as Jeremy Lin has with his.

(For more on Jeremy Lin, check out Hardwood Paroxysm’s Roundtable , ESPN Info on “All He Does is Lin” and Zach Harper on the battle of Rubio v. Lin.)

Photo by mylotian from Flickr

Everyone should be rooting for the Denver Nuggets, but not for the reasons you might think. It’s not because they are a “real team”. It’s not because they have great team chemistry or because their current success is proof that Carmelo Anthony is a terrible basketball player. It’s has nothing to do with hating the Miami Heat, or Lebron James and Dwyane Wade. Don’t get behind them because they “play basketball the right way”; as if they are some kind of beacon of light in a sea of darkness. It’s not about being the guy who says, “I liked the Denver Nuggets before it was cool”.

Focusing on narratives dismisses the more important reality that sits before us in every ferocious Nene dunk, every Ty Lawson teleportation, every Andre Miller alley-oop; The Nuggets are FUN. At their core the Nuggets are pure uninhibited joy. There’s no awe inspiring dominance, or unstoppable force that requires your undivided attention. What flows out of the Nuggets isn’t inherently cool; they come off as earnest and exuberant rather than calm and controlled. There’s no concern with style or appearance.  Everything is so fast, each event coming seemingly before the previous could resolve. Parts and pieces  haphazardly thrown together as part of some mad scientist experiment. It’s not that the Nuggets ignore or laugh at convention, they don’t have time to consider it at all.

At the head of this chaotic nebula is Ty Lawson, a basketball player who seems like Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle embodied. Always in constant motion at too fast a pace to be confined by a singular location. The defense stuck trying to corral or contain both a player and an offense that never feels entirely tangible. It’s difficult to comprehend but so easy to enjoy. What it lacks in form it makes up for in unpredictability. Maybe we’ll see Lawson blow past every defender and dunk all over DJ Mbenga. Maybe Nene unleashes one of his patented one handed throw downs of doom.  Maybe Gallinari hits a three or gets to rim and throws down a big dunk. Maybe Andre Miller makes a half court shot. Maybe Rudy Fernandez tips it in behind his head or throws a crazy alley oop to Kenneth Faried. It’s the mystery that becomes so captivating. We watch because we have no idea what might happen next.

What comes out of all this kinetic energy and uncertainty is one hell of a basketball team. The Nuggets find themselves at 15-8 among the best teams in the Western Conference. They boast the second best offensive efficiency in the league at 105.9 points per 100 possessions, and also find themselves with the 4th best margin of victory at + 6.39.  Still the Nuggets have their flaws. Certainly their lack of a superstar appears to be an achilles heel. Recently Andre Miller  wondered aloud about this teams ability to create offense late in games without a true go to scorer. The Nuggets versatility can sometimes leave them without a focus in crucial situations. However it would seem that well executed offense could overcome their lack of a so called superstar.

History tells us you can’t win without a go to player, that playoff success is made or broken by one individuals brief brush with immortality. There’s a lot of evidence to support this theory, to dismiss the Nuggets as a flawed team built only for regular season success and destined for post season disappointment. But why should we cage our fandom? Why root for what we’ve already seen? We watch sports because for those moments that completely and totally shock us. Nobody walks into a arena hoping that nothing new and exciting happens. No one roots against LeBron James jumping over another human being, or Blake Griffin taking Kendrick Perkins’ soul. We cheer for the underdog and revel in the upset because we want to believe in possibility rather than limitation. This Nuggets team is not supposed to succeed, and that’s exactly why everyone one of us should want them to.

Photo by auensen on Flickr

Two weeks ago, I read a piece entitled “Magic too good to trade [Dwight] Howard” and wrote one stressing the importance of the stretch ahead of them. I said that if Orlando had a less-than-stellar end of January, it would be hard to continue selling the idea that it could keep its superstar around.

That’s about when things got bad. The 87-56 loss in Boston. The 26-point loss in New Orleans. The collapse/bar fight. The nine-point third quarter in Philly. The end of the month was so bad that it made us write obituaries for the team.

The Magic have actually won their last two games, but they’ve come in less than impressive fashion at home against Washington and Cleveland. It’s not enough to quiet the predictable noise about how Howard’s status is affecting the team. Chris Bosh today:

“Those are things that are tough to talk about. Even when I was in Toronto, I don’t even know how I affected my teammates. I never talked about what I was going to do or where I was going to go. But I’m sure, they were like, when things got tough especially, they were probably like, ‘Man, I don’t know.’”

via Bosh glad he avoided Dwight’s dilemma, 2/4/12

The difference between the Bosh situation and this one is that Bosh never publicly demanded a trade. Toronto let the trade deadline pass with hopes of re-signing him. Similarly to Bosh, I don’t get the impression that Howard is a disruptive presence in the locker room. If there has been damage done, it’s unavoidable without a signed extension.

I’m not qualified to say much more about Howard’s leadership or how he’s affected his teammates, but due to the team’s performance I can’t imagine the mood is the same as it was in mid-January. Howard wasn’t rescinding his trade demand then, so do you think he is going to do it now? Would Orlando be better off if he said nothing, like Bosh did? Is there a good reason the Magic shouldn’t trade him for Andrew Bynum right now?

Yeah, I know Howard-for-Bynum isn’t fair, but Bynum is the best option available unless you think incredibly highly of Brook Lopez. Maybe Orlando can get another asset or two if a third team is involved, maybe it can dump Hedo Turkoglu’s contract. I understand Jerry West’s argument for letting star players walk and I’m not the only one who appreciates his honesty on the matter, but getting a 24-year-old All-Star center who scores effortlessly in the paint seems preferable to getting nothing.

The Magic can’t win here. Jameer Nelson is injured and has been missing jumpers all season. Glen Davis is suspended and has been missing them, too. There’s long-term money tied up in Turkoglu and Jason Richardson for some reason and Earl Clark is their best prospect going forward. They’d much rather build around Howard than Bynum, making the move will likely make them significantly worse for the rest of the season unless they get multiple good pieces back with him. The shakeup won’t likely have the galvanizing effect that the Carmelo trade had on Denver, but it’s still, perhaps depressingly, the best thing they can do.

Given that it’s the best thing, I selfishly want them to do it now. Let’s be real: this team isn’t interesting. Ryan Anderson has been bloody awesome and Stan Van Gundy is doing as much as he can, but it was hard to get excited about Orlando even when things were going well. If they acquired Bynum and, hopefully, some other useful parts, I’d have more reason to tune in. I’d like to see how Bynum functions as a first option. I’d like to see if SVG can teach him how to deal with double-teams more effectively. I’d like to see if he can make some strides on the defensive end, considering how much Howard improved with Van Gundy’s tutelage. If you’re like me, you’re over the Magic in their current incarnation and you want to avoid all the Howard trade talk at the All-Star game, the trade deadline, and beyond.

I’m also over this painfully-average Lakers team that has Kobe Bryant either shooting a million times every game or watching his teammates miss wide open jumpers. Otis, I know it’ll hurt to help them out, but let’s just get it over with.

I learned a new word in class yesterday. Palimpsest. It’s a page of writing that is reused by scraping off the earlier text. In the early centuries, parchment and papyrus were reused with a washing/scraping method. But the previous text never leaves the page completely. Beneath the most recent (and visible) text is the faded outline of past messages. The word has been used (as was the case in my class) as a way to observe the passage of time — the past will always have an imprint on the present, no matter how faint.

My professor compared it to an Etch-a-Sketch. You can shake a silly doodle away once it stops being amusing, but it’s never really all the way gone.

It’s an interesting word, isn’t it?

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The Kobe System commercials have been a major plus for Nike. The brand found humor in Kobe’s intensity, and kudos to them for a successful campaign. While most of the commercials are hit-or-miss – which is largely contingent on the supporting megastar’s comedic chops, as it’s more or less for certain what we’re getting from Kobe Bryant: furrowed brows, intimidating stoicism moonlighting as sagaciousness, “You’re welcome.” —  the commercials that shine are the ones that highlight how nonsensical the system is. The Kobe System – and by extension, the Kobe Experience – isn’t something easily explained. The commercials perpetuate a mysticism surrounding Kobe that we’ve all just learned to accept.

When Kobe goes on one of his patented onslaughts of consecutive fall-away jumpers from anywhere on the floor, it’s hard not to toss your fears and concept of sense to the wind. It’s intoxicating what Kobe is capable of. And it’s scary to think that however much belief we have in his ability to dominate games, to play through pain, and to make the winning shot (and for the majority of fans, that’s quite a bit), the belief he has in himself engulfs it all. We don’t quite chalk it up to supernatural forces. We’re too aware of his will and work ethic to do that. Then again, we don’t exactly omit it entirely from the equation when we use superlatives like superhuman, or bloodthirsty. It’s just Kobe being Kobe, whatever that means.

Level 2 of the Kobe System is Adaptation. To help Serena Williams reach higher levels of ascension, he tells a reworked version of the dinosaur extinction story with him playing the role of meteor and failure playing the role of the dinosaurs. The story: dinosaurs reacted, meteor adapted. Of course, this is kind of wrong. The meteor that (possibly) killed off the dinosaurs didn’t exactly adapt. It was on an inalterable course of destruction. There was no modification in the meteor’s trajectory that would have provided a different result. While his rhetoric was off, the message is 100 percent Kobe. On a game-to-game level, there is no adjustment to Kobe’s approach, regardless of whether he’s shooting 6-for-28 or 18-for-28. He is his own unalterable path. Apparently in the Kobe System, there is a level of success where adaptation means becoming impervious to anything and everything.

While that’s all true, adaptation – real adaptation – has undoubtedly played a significant role in Kobe’s legacy. Since the beginning, he’s done everything in his power to ensure that he plays the game the way he wants to play it. From graduating from sidekick to undisputed first option, bulking up to slimming down, tapping into his elite athleticism to being mentored by Hakeem Olajuwon on his post game, looking overseas for injury treatment to playing unbelievable basketball with a torn ligament in his wrist, adaptation has become a yearly challenge for Kobe to accept and obsessively dismantle.

We’ve seen many different Kobe Bryants in the past decade-and-a-half. But aside from cosmetic differences, has he ever deviated from his path?

Level 6 of the Kobe System is Beastion (which isn’t a word, but, you know, okay), which confuses the hell out of Kanye West. But when we begin to piece together the fragments of Kobe’s illustrious career, it all starts to make a bit more sense.

If we were to look at Kobe’s palimpsest, there would be 15 messages neatly written one below the other, almost indecipherable at the top, gradually growing in visibility. Then there is a 16^th near the bottom in big bold lettering with enough space for more engravings. Each tier of text appears in a new language, but each appears to say the same thing: Destiny is mine and mine alone to control.

Different animal, same beast.

Photo by justinwkern on Flickr

Rodrigue Beaubois killed the Jazz last night. The statline: 22 points (9-15 fg, 3-5 3pt), six rebounds, seven assists, one steal, four (!!!) blocks, and two turnovers. More important than the numbers was how he did it — he started in place of Delonte West at the two, but when Jason Kidd had to leave with a sprained calf less than three minutes in, Beaubois became the Mavericks’ primary point guard. Coming into the season, his ability to play the point was his biggest point of concern. With Jason Terry, Vince Carter, and Delonte West getting minutes at shooting guard, he needed to show proficiency at running the team if he wanted to avoid again being a nonessential piece come playoff time. Not even three weeks ago, his shortcomings were under the spotlight.

“He’s got to work on his decision-making, I think we all know that, coming off pick-and-rolls, making the right plays, seeing the floor that’s sometimes problems for him,” Nowitzki said. “But I like when he plays hard, he makes stuff happen, and I like when he’s aggressive. Sometimes he has to find a better mix of driving and shooting and finding the open guy, but we need him.”

Via Carlisle Calls Out Rodrigue Beaubois, Needs More, 1/8/12

Against Utah, Dallas got what it needed. From Rob Mahoney’s superb recap at The Two Man Game:

 Beaubois’ full-speed reads on pick and rolls were a thing of absolute beauty. He previously would approach such sequences as strictly a two-man game, but with experience, Beaubois’ scope has widened. He sees the baseline cutter and the open spot-up shooter — the men that, in the flurry of addressing their compromise in coverage, the defense has forgotten. Beaubois may always be a scorer first and foremost, but this was a fantastic passing display on a night when it was sorely needed.

Via The Difference: Dallas Mavericks 116, Utah Jazz 101, 1/28/12

 

We don’t know the extent of Kidd’s injury yet, but we do know that the Mavs aren’t averse to resting a veteran as a precautionary measure. If Kidd misses some time, it would present a golden opportunity for his backup. Beaubois never seemed like a selfish player; he just hadn’t exhibited the court vision necessary to make many plays for other people. I know I’m not the only one who fell in love with his insane speed, his penchant for highlight plays, and his scoring ability, but I also understood what Rick Carlisle wanted from him and why he wasn’t playing 30 minutes a night. Trust, savvy, and ball movement make the Mavericks’ offense go, so seeing this kind of progress from Beaubois is exciting. With Dallas still a work in progress and roles still being established, he has a chance to carve out a bigger role than we’ve seen early this season.

Friday night was a damn good start.

Tiago Splitter leads the league in field goal percentage, shooting an unreal 63.2 percent from the field. This wouldn’t have mattered much last year, when Splitter saw scant minutes here and there. But this isn’t last year. Splitter is playing significant minutes this season, and his play of late has been somewhat of a resuscitation for crestfallen fans coping with Manu Ginobili’s absence. Splitter is playing with confidence making plays that toe the line between “Finally! This is what we’ve been waiting for,” and “Wait, I had no idea he could do that.”

After 19 games, Splitter has doubled his scoring output from a season ago from 4.6 to 9.2 points a game. Splitter has scored in double-figures ten times, surpassing last season’s total of double-digit scoring outings (9) in less than a third of the games. These aren’t mind-blowing numbers, but if his last three games (17.6 points on 77.8 percent shooting, eight rebounds a game) are pointing towards a trend, the Spurs have not only found themselves an intriguing low post scorer, but a way to continue to stretch and ration Tim Duncan’s contributions to the team.

While his productivity has been off the charts, Splitter won’t win many hearts aesthetically. His post game is advanced, but lacks charm or grace. His hooks are a curious, curious thing. They have a seriously low trajectory, floating towards the rim mere millimeters out of reach for the defender’s outstretched arms. His hook shots, flip shots, and contested layups all share a common flatness. It’s definitely ugly, but to his credit, he’s been incredibly accurate with his array of shots. Splitter uses fakes and spins extremely well, but they are used to gain position and footing for an unsexy finish. Splitter doesn’t wear denim to be fashionable. He wears it because it’s a fabric tough enough to handle the rigors of his trade.

When he isn’t creating his own shot around the rim, he’s busy catching and finishing passes at an even more impressive rate. According to mySynergySports, Splitter has converted on 73.3 percent of his shots off of pick and rolls and cuts, which combined account for 42 percent of his field goal attempts. He has great hands and rolls to the basket fast and strong, as any Kobe System practitioner would. No one will confuse Splitter with Dwight Howard, but then again, they’re converting on pick and roll opportunities at a very similar rate.

Splitter’s recent string of outstanding performances should (if they haven’t already) lead to serious discussion about the allotment of minutes in the Spurs frontcourt. Being a much (much, much, much) better defender than DeJuan Blair, it’s become obvious that Splitter deserves to be a starter. Unfortunately the Spurs are forced to use the Splitter/Duncan tandem sparingly due to how pathetic Blair and Matt Bonner are on the defensive end. Playing Splitter and Duncan together is the Spurs’ best frontcourt pairing by far and increasing their minutes together would logically produce better results on the field, but it would inevitably bring about a Blair/Bonner duo, which is the scorched-earth policy of NBA frontcourts.

So while Splitter has been one of the Spurs’ best players thus far, the team almost can’t risk giving Splitter too many minutes. Their frontcourt is a delicate, imperfect balance with one competent defender to go with an awful one. Any injury or over-exhaustion of Splitter would lead to the complete demise of the Spurs interior defense. Though, if Splitter keeps playing at such a high level, the Spurs might want to consider playing their odds.