Photo by Gilderic Photography on Flickr
Worlds collide when a comment from tweet-God and suspected Corgi Netw3rk sparks a giant email exchange over the arcs of our teams’ feted and injured point guards, Jeremy Lin and Ricky Rubio.
Steve McPherson: So I’m interested in starting up this conversation because you responded to Steve Marsh’s excellent Grantland article on Ricky Rubio by saying, “The way he talks about Minnesotans feeling about Rubio is how NYers feel about Lin.” What I find interesting about that is that in a city where the baseball team is the most storied and dominant in the MLB, in a market that’s supposed to be the biggest for players, in an arena that’s called the “Mecca of basketball,” the Knicks are this sort of woebegone franchise that hasn’t won a championship since 1973. As a Wolves fan, it’s easy to feel semi-cursed and kind of ignored because, well, Minnesotans sort of have that attitude naturally, but New York is the center of the universe, right? I have plenty to say about Rubio and what he’s inspired for Timberwolves fans, but I’m interested in kicking off with your take on what Jeremy Lin has meant to Knicks fans, in both his rise and his loss for the season.
Netw3rk: The Knicks’ relationship to their fans is different from that of other New York sports teams because the Knicks are (for the time being) the only basketball team in town. When the Yankees are successful, Mets fans are unhappy; same for the Giants/Jets. So the ambient glow of Yankee championship trophies does very little to assuage the darkness in Madison Square Garden. What the glow does do is antagonize, annoy, and otherwise stoke the appetite for Knicks-flavored schadenfreude in the country at large. People love to see the Knicks be bad and the Knicks oblige.
Unlike the NBA’s other the big market teams, the Knicks are most often defined (to the periphery of the universe, anyway) by their failures: The Charles Smith Play, 2 for 18, Ewing’s finger-roll, the suspensions in the 1997 playoffs, the Ewing trade, McDyess’ knee injury, Layden, Isiah, Eddy Curry, Stephon Marbury, Jerome James, the sexual harassment lawsuit, the Larry Brown lawsuit, James Dolan, and on and on. The greatest Knick of my lifetime, Patrick Ewing, is practically a byword for coming up short. Kevin Garnett may have only gotten the Wolves out of the first round once, but no one named an idiotic theory after him.
Maester Aemon visiting the Cloisters, presumably.
And so into this environment materialized Jeremy Lin. Other messiahs arrived in New York anointed, self-proclaimed, and wearing expectations like a maester’s chains. Lin arrived equal parts unregarded and written off, at a moment when Knicks fans were staring another losing season square in its beady-black eyes. Something unexpected and good was finally happening to us. As the world-wide hype machine cranked up in an effort to cap the Linsanity gusher, I (and I suspect many Knicks fans) began to feel very protective of Lin. Marsh’s description of Minny fans’ similar emotions towards Rubio immediately struck a nerve for me. Like Rubio to Minneapolis, Lin was ours and we gripped him like a life-preserver.
Steve McPherson: I think this idea of the fans of any major sport in New York being split into those who root for the hard-luck team and those who root for the dynasty is fascinating. And the Knicks present a pretty interesting quandary in that respect. It seems to me that more than ever now—when people can follow pretty much any team they please via the Internet and premium TV packages—fans self-select themselves into these groups. For example, there’s an acquaintance I have who I’ve known as a Steelers fan for a long time, but one day it came up in conversation that he was from Texas. So I asked: “How is it that you’re a Steelers fan?” And he said his dad was in the military so they moved around a lot. Thus, he explained, he’s a Steelers, Yankees, Lakers fan. And I said, “Oh, so you’re a front-runner.” I mean, some people out there like rooting for a winner.
But that’s not me and I don’t say that as a way to posit that my fandom is better than his. I’m just psychologically wired to pull for the underdog—as I suspect are a lot of Mets and Jets fans. (Consider Jon Stewart’s hangdog Mets fandom.) Like last season in the playoffs, I was pulling for Memphis to beat OKC in the second round, but once OKC won, I started pulling for them to beat Dallas. And I think that kind of fan is uniquely primed to appreciate figures like Rubio or Lin because we want so badly to see success that feels not only earned but hard-won. Let’s face it: the Lakers don’t need you. The Heat don’t need you. And Minnesota fans like to be needed, even when their teams, frankly, suck.
It’s funny how you talk about Lin going from unheralded to celebrated and how this sparked a protective streak in Knicks fans because in some ways, Rubio’s curve was the inverse of that. There were all these high expectations for him that got tempered by his final mediocre season in the Euroleague and so when he arrived, there were probably more naysayers than boosters but Minnesota fans earnestly wanted him to succeed. And when he did, and almost right away, there was a sense that there was something special about him. I mean, let’s be clear: this team doesn’t go without Kevin Love. Period. I admire Love. I respect him. When he puts the team on his back as he did in March, it makes me appreciate what a unique talent and amazing player he is. But he doesn’t give me butterflies with his play the way Rubio did. I went to Target Center expecting magic early in the season and I was never disappointed. It was so much like that first really good relationship you have, where you feel this person exceeding everything you thought possible all the time in so many different ways. Rubio made it all right to feel again.
And I suspect Lin did some of the same thing for Knicks fans. Because as much as the team’s been built up in the last year with Anthony and Stoudemire, they have been distinctly built, and what we love are stories, not buildings. Lin brought, if anything, a better story than Rubio to the NBA, and for both of them, the tragedy of injury in some ways seems perversely fitting for those stories. But Minnesota is basically done now. We’re onto next year while the Knicks are clinging to that final playoff spot like grim death. If you’re writing the next chapter of the Lin story, where does it go? Does he return heroically in the playoffs? Or do the Knicks fade and fizzle? Do imagine Lin will even be on the Knicks next year?
Jeremy Lin, post-surgery
Netw3rk: While Lin has referred to himself as a “fast healer,” I’m hoping that—regardless of however Wolverine-ish he may feel—that he and the Knicks staff hold him out until they are sure he’s ready. Luckily, New York is on its fifth phase of the season, the potent “Woodsanity” phase, buoying the team through the unifying power of Mr. Potato Head.
What would I write for the next chapter of Lin’s story? That’s a tough question to ask because the story up to now has been pretty absurd. I guess if I had to imagine up some Linfanfic, I’d see him coming back for the playoffs since that would mean New York would’ve beaten either Chicago or Miami. In which case, Lin coming back would be a cherry made out of a giant ruby on top of a sundae made out of diamond-encrusted sports orgasm frosted with the tears of my enemies.
I think you nailed it with your description of the undulating curve of Ricky Rubio expectations. I went from a true believer to, if not a naysayer, certainly a maybe-sayer over Ricky’s disappointing Euroleague numbers. Speaking for myself, I think a lot of that had to do with not seeing him. Pre-NBA Ricky buzz seemed to peak during the 2008 Olympics and that was my first opportunity to watch Ricky play entire games on an actual television instead of six minute YouTube clips. There is something about certain players: just in watching them move about the court, you begin to understand that they know how to play. Ricky has that and, just speaking as a basketball nerd, that was exciting. If he drove to the basket he knew where his shooters should be; knew where his cutters were coming from. His body language alone said, “Yeah, I belong on a basketball court with Kobe Bryant and Chris Paul.” Once the Olympics were over, I didn’t see him play until this season; Euroleague games being difficult to follow from the ol’ U S of A. As soon as I saw him play his first game as a Timberwolf, I knew he was what we thought he was.
Just like Ricky’s, I had been following Lin’s career, but mainly because I am genetically obligated as an Asian-American to do so. His duel with John Wall was exciting and either quickly forgotten or dismissed when recalled as just one of those flukey things. What I remember about his Warriors’ campaign is a play where he didn’t pass the ball to Monta and then turned it over and Monta glaring steak knives at him and then Lin scuffling off to the bench. Needless to say, when the Knicks acquired him, my expectations were pretty darn low. Any buzz at all was generated from the prospect of having a point guard that would be not as claw-at-my-face terrible as Toney Douglas. So, to go from “meh” to “OMG this kid just dropped 38 on the Lakers at the Garden with the Garden going nuts and holy cow that spin move is this real or has my 2K12 create-a-player come alive?” was head spinning. What he did during the Linsanity period was take all the negativity and expectations and put it all on his back. It was no longer “How badly will the Knicks lose tonight and how badly did Dolan et al. screw up the Melo trade?”, it was “What will Jeremy Lin do tonight?” That respite from the traditional “Knicks as bumbling/tragicomic/nest of vipers†storyline was literally the most fun I’ve had watching the Knicks since ever. I put Linsanity up there with the Knicks’ 1999 postseason run. Reason being, both came out of nowhere.
Where he goes from here is anyone’s guess. He’s young enough to overcome his trademark weaknesses of not being able to go left and turning it over. Hopefully (rapping firmly on a piece of lumber) the knee surgery is nothing but a blip. I can’t imagine the Knicks not re-signing him as he is a nigh-bottomless goldmine and, oh yeah, a pretty good basketball player.
Steve McPherson: I’m impressed that the Knicks have at least five phases—in Minnesota, we typically have two: cautious optimism and resigned despair. The former usually lasts the first two weeks of the season and the rest is pretty much the latter. At least this year, we may have added “Midwestern jubilance” to the middle of the season before succumbing. Midwestern Jubilance is also the name of the new fragrance I have coming out later this summer.
If Lin can come back in the second round and write another chapter for himself as heroic as the one he wrote earlier this year with Linsanity, it will truly be something special. Fitzgerald saying there are no second acts in America will really be put to the test after Lin already pulled off the comeback from being cut by Golden State and Houston. An epic playoff return would be, by any conservative measure, his third death-defying act. I’d love to see it happen.
You’re so right that Rubio exudes something when he’s on the court and, at the risk of raising the ire of my more stats-minded colleagues, I think it might be something you just can’t measure. It will be too small a sample size to draw any real conclusions, but I’m interested to see how the Wolves do even just having Rubio back on the bench (that is, if Rubio even comes back to the bench, which I’m now doubting). I think there’s something about him that inspires confidence, that makes players want to do their best for him. That’s not an easy quality to find these days, and I’m curious if it might have to do with another thing from Marsh’s article where he quotes Rubio’s shooting coach, Jarinn Akana, as saying, “”The number-one important thing in the U.S. for any kid—I don’t care who you are or where you come from—is to shoot the ball and score. When you play pickup, that’s all you do.” Marsh also talks about how Rubio started playing pro so early that the best way for him to fit in was to get the older guys easy looks. What it all points to is Rubio taking a path to the NBA that is vastly different from players in the States who have always been the best (and often biggest, when they’ve redshirted at various levels) player on their team, the one who’s responsible for taking the last shot.
I’ve found myself wondering this about Lin as well. Even though he’s obviously more of a scorer than Rubio (and took that last second dagger against the Raptors), I feel like perhaps his experience of being glared at by Ellis and being sent down to the D-League and getting cut made him reconfigure his game in some ways that ultimately positioned him for success. I mean, consider the guys who are always the most athletic, the most high-scoring at every level until they get to the NBA and then just can’t figure out how to contribute in other ways.
But you got to see Lin more than I did. What’s your take on how his circuitous path to the NBA shaped the game he unveiled back in February? It certainly had a touch of the Robert Johnson myth of a kid being just OK, disappearing for a while, and coming back with what seemed an almost supernatural ability.
Netw3rk: Well, perhaps there is a crossroads somewhere in Erie, PA, where one can sell one’s eternal soul. When it comes to the basketball nature vs. nurture debate, I fall pretty squarely into nature. Rubios (and here I will use the sports media trope of referring to athletes as if they were cans of soup) are born, not made. Yes, Ricky’s on court experiences helped solidify his pass-first mentality, but you don’t pass like that unless passing like that is how you self-identify. Kobe was going to be a scorer before he ever played an organized game. So, I get what Akana is saying but I’m not so sure. I’d bet that at some point in their basketball lives, any human being capable of becoming a pro was the smallest/youngest/weakest player on the court. In my opinion, how they responded to that had less to do with placating the bigger/older/stronger players than to do with innate basketball DNA. I think it’s like how a musician is drawn to the music they always pictured themselves playing rather than becoming the musician that their teacher wanted them to become.
In this way, I think Lin’s path is illustrative of his innate confidence and, to some extent, stubbornness. Didn’t get accepted by a major college program? Doesn’t matter; I belong here. Undrafted? Doesn’t matter; I belong here. Can’t crack the rotation? D-league? Monta glaring at me? Can’t go left? Turnover prone? And so on and so on. He simply refused to believe that he wasn’t, and could never be, good enough. Now, there are lots and lots of players who will similarly refuse to believe they aren’t good enough. Lin just happened to 1) be right, 2) be ready for his shot and 3) get lucky enough to get one.
Steve McPherson: I think you’re really onto something with the stubbornness and confidence angle with Lin. As much as we profess to value flexibility and understanding, there’s a lot to be said for willfulness when it comes to getting the job done, to going out there and not taking no. I remember hearing something recently, probably on NPR, about this idea that parents shouldn’t worry too much about children who are stubborn because that stubbornness might just help them later in life when they need to negotiate a contract or go after a job.
On nature vs. nurture, though, I think I may be standing on the other side of the fence. I don’t think, for instance, that Darko Milicic was ever the smallest or weakest on the basketball court, and I think that might be part of the problem for him. It seems that playing basketball was less something he chose and more something that was thrust upon him, and so he’s never really owned it. And speaking to the musician point, I know, for instance, that I started getting into classic rock—Cream, Hendrix, etc.—because the guys I wanted to play with in high school were into that stuff. It then helped that my parents were into it. I just don’t know that I had a vision of what I wanted to be as a musician that early on. And so I feel like playing a sport might work the same way: you react to the situation you find yourself in, as Rubio reacted to being preternaturally gifted but also young by setting up the more experienced players.
Not pictured: Anthony Randolph
But to back out of that argument, it’s also interesting that somehow, even though we’ve talked about Rubio and Lin not being the kind of players who impose their will on the game, they actually do impose their will on the game in a very distinct way. One need only look at the way the Wolves have played since Rubio went down to see how much the way he played was a balm for so many players who look again like refugees from the Island of Misfit Toys. It seems like both Rubio and Lin did something very simple and similar for their teams this season: they made them feel good about being a bunch of guys playing a game. A lot of it came from their on-court skills, but just as much came from their on-court demeanor and the way their personal stories dovetailed with the fates of their franchises. Recent injuries have put obstacles in the road, but it’s hard not to be optimistic about these two players.
Any final thoughts?
Netw3rk: The nature vs. nurture debate is so fascinating precisely because we can never know. I suspect the answer is some amalgamation of our two ideas with a bunch of things we could never imagine. On the one hand: sure, Ricky’s experiences as a Muppet Baby pro-basketball player helped shape his incredible altruism and court vision. On the other hand: if that’s the case, why aren’t there hundreds of other Rubios pouring out of the European continent like some Gothic horde?
On the imposing of wills: point guards are suited to controlling the pace of a game more than any other player on the court. They are like a team’s steering wheel. Lots of people have gone on and on about how this is a great point guard era blah blah blah and it’s true. The number of noteworthy point guards in the league right now is incredible; certainly more than at any time since I’ve been watching basketball. Magnifying those players’ abilities are the semi-recent hand checking rule tweaks and the revolutions in offensive play spearheaded by now former Knicks coach Mike D’Antoni. Speaking for myself, it is an immense relief to have Lin on the roster. As incomplete a player as he is, you can’t really succeed in today’s NBA without a point guard, and New York finally has one. It will be a greater relief when 1) he is fully healed and 2) he is re-signed.
These are my absolutely final thoughts, forever:
- I hope that our point guards’ knee parts regenerate better than new.
- While I have no idea what Lin’s ceiling will end up being, I’m pretty sure Rubio’s ceiling is “Perennial All-Star.”
- I would be more than satisfied if Lin ended up averaging 12 to 14 points and 7 assists while shooting a decent percentage.
- I like to imagine that Ricky’s private physician is Pau Gasol.
