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NBA Outsourcing – Week 4

November 3, 2011 in by with 0 Comments

Photo from Scott_Calleja via Flickr

Despite the star of last week’s NBA Outsourcing, Craig Brackins, resting with his Maccabi Ashdod teammates during their week off (the odd result of an 11 team league), there was plenty of action in Israeli basketball this week.

Hapoel Jerusalem lost their second straight game, 95-93 at home to Ironi Ashkelon, in a game that wasn’t nearly as close as the score indicates. Ashkelon was carried early on by the hot shooting of ex-Hapoel guard Amit Simhon (14, all in the first half) to go up 9 at half time, and the rest of the second half was conducted in the 7 to 12 range for most of the game, but a furious rally in the last 4 minutes gave them a shot at the W. Alas, veteran forward and notorious sharpshooter Moshe Mizrahi missed an off balance 3 with the buzzer.

I’m sorry, did I say furious rally? I meant comedy of errors. Ashkelon did everything in their power to give the game away in the final stretch – from an unforced out-of-bounds, to D.J. Strawberry drawing a charge from Raviv Limonad with the ball yet to enter play, to a 3 on 0 fast break that was blown by a travel, to Marco Killingsworth – who completely and utterly abused Jarvis Varnado in the post with his bulk and his quickness en route to 16 points – fouling out. Hapoel replied with some utterly insane 3 pointers by mercurial guard Yuval Naimi, including one to cut the lead to 94-93 with 18 seconds left that had such an arc that it scraped the rafters, but was left one bullet too short.

Prior to the final stretch, Jerusalem continued their campaign for exclusive rights over isolations, with coach Oded Katash seemingly refusing to call any offensive play, sans the occasional feeble high screen. Jerusalem looked like an absolute mess, and their offense from breaking down only by random flashes of individual brilliance from Strawberry (who continues to be both unstoppable going to the rim and a far better jump shooter than he was in his NBA days, going for 24-5-5 and drawing 9 fouls), Naimi (non-existent in the first half, on fire in the second, 20 points and 11 shots overall), and – at long last – Boston Celtics guard Avery Bradley.

I won’t lie to you – Bradley wasn’t perfect. His outside shot was way off, shooting only 2 for 6 from three (and while I don’t have the stats to back it up, he was probably even worse on long twos), with 2 of those misses not even connecting with the rim. Bradley also displayed too much of a tendency to go one on one – though again, I blame coaching for that more than poor Avery, since the entire team was predicated on nothing but boneheaded selfishness.

However, Bradley was a force going to the rim, finishing in traffic again and again en route to 21 points, including some of the games best highlights – a beautiful, if clumsy, 2 on 1 fast break with Strawberry that ended in a dunk and a foul, and an alley-oop of a half court pass from Naimi.

[flash http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0pddISZ5e4I&feature=youtu.be]

Bradley was also solid defensively, putting pressure on ball handlers and even recording a sick block, though he seemed quite incapable of understanding how backdoor cuts work, getting beat quite a bit off the ball. All in all, a solid showing from Bradley, who is even more athletic than I remembered.

However, it seems like Bradley’s tenure in Jerusalem is coming to an end despite his improved second game. Bradley originally signed a contract for only 2 months, and will reportedly exercise his option to return stateside after Monday’s game against Barak Netanya. Though I am very sad about this turn of events, Hapoel probably won’t hurt too much, as Strawberry has a very strong hold over the shooting guard spot and Bradley isn’t really a natural point.

Back to the game, Dwayne Mitchell had 18 points, 12 boards and 6 assists for the winners in an impressive display all-around display of strength and smarts for Ashkelon, who also got 16 from former Spartan Raymar Morgan. Luke Jackson had 0 points and 5 fouls in 19 minutes and is absolutely awful.

My Dad has started calling Luke Jackson "Fluke Jackson" on a full time basis. Yeah, he's not working out for Hapoel.
October 31, 2011 11:52 am via TweetDeckReplyRetweetFavorite
@noamschiller
Noam Schiller

Elsewhere, Sacramento forward (or is it still Cleveland forward? Did the lockout freeze time or not?) J.J. Hickson had his Israeli League debut for Bnei HaSharon/Herzelia against Hapoel Holon, and did so in classic J.J. Hickson fashion. As expected, Hickson was far too athletic to be stopped offensively, as he powered his way towards 20 points on 8 of 12 shooting, 8 rebounds, and 5 assists that should come as quite a surprise to astute NBA watchers. Of course, this is J.J. Hickson we’re talking about, so these stats came in an astonishing 39 point loss.

It’s hard to articulate just how bad Bnei HaSharon were defensively, and Hickson was a huge part of the downfall. The team gave up 62 points in the first half, and were down 98-60 after three quarters – and this is a 40 minute game. Hickson, on his part, was dominated down low by Bryant Dunston (29 and 14), and seemed completely clueless as to guarding the pick and roll. In a certain notable 3rd quarter stretch, two consecutive Holon pick and rolls ended in two consecutive dunks by Hickson’s man, the second of which seeing Hickson standing helplessly at the upper left elbow. For more Hickson, check out what I hope becomes a weekly feature over at Cowbell Kingdom.

Dunston was hardly the only Holon player to dominate offensively. Ron Lewis was incapable of missing jumpers (27, 5 of 6 from long range), and Patrick Stewart and Tasmin Mitchell threw in 19 and 18, respectively. But the mastermind behind the show was point guard Moran Roth, who recorded a career high 15 assists to go with his 12 points.

Maccabi Haifa finally got their first win of the season, handily beating Hapoel Gilboa/Galil 90-77 behind a dominant 32 points from Sylven Landesberg. I only caught the final few seconds of this match, as I was in the midst of returning home from a very distraught Malcha (Jerusalem’s home arena), but it seems Sean Williams finally had his A game on as well, playing an incredible 36 minutes without fouling out, and posting an impressive statline of 21 points (on 10 shots, though for some reason he attempted two threes), 7 boards, 2 assists, 3 steals and 5 blocks. Carlos Powell scored 20 of his own, Courtney Fells was pretty much left on an island for the losing squad with 22.

Finally, Jordan Farmar had another inconsistent week. In Saturday’s 78-67 win over Partizan Belgrade, the second such win in 3 days over Nikola Pekovic (23 points) and co., Farmar had a solid game, scoring 14 points on 8 shots and puppeteering the offense with 7 assists. Farmar proceeded to have an awful game in a too-close-for-comfort 87-85 squeaker over Barak Netanya, scoring only 6 points on 1-5 shooting (as well as 3-8 from the line) and fouling out in 24 minutes. Luckily for Jordan, 20 points apiece from Sofoklis Schortsanitis and Guy Pnini was enough for Maccabi to overcome an excellent game from Christian Burns.

All was forgiven, though, as Farmar produced at the highest possible level against a stacked Real Madrid squad, in a game that ended just minutes ago. Farmar was aggressive from the get go, getting to the rim for layups 3 times in the first 150 seconds of the game, which set the tone early for a 88-82 victury that felt more like an onslaught. Real stayed close thanks to some hot 3 point shooting, mostly from former Utah State guard Jaycee Carroll (4 of 5 from 3, 18 points), but the Spanish offense seemed out of sync all game, as Rudy Fernandez (13 points, 4-12 shooting) led what seemed like a team effort of taking hard shots over working for good ones.

Serge Ibaka, in his Real debut, was mostly frozen out of the offense, getting his 9 points off free throws and offensive rebounds between off ball screens. Former Warriors draft pick Richard Hendrix did a good job of frustrating Ibaka when he did get involved, as the OKC forward let quite a few loose balls slip between his fingers, and Sofo (16 points in 21 minutes) gave him a handful on defense as well.

But above all stood Farmar. Getting to the rim again and again, the Nets guard seemingly refused to accept a result that wasn’t a made basket or a drawn foul, often going for both. Farmar finished with 27 points on 10-12 shooting, drew 8 fouls, and threw in 4 boards, 5 assists, and the game clinching steal, up 5 points with 25 seconds left. A magnificent all around performance, by far his best since his defection to Europe.

Of Animal Imagination: A Review of “West By West: My Charmed, Tormented Life”

November 2, 2011 in by with 1 Comment

Jerry West dreamt of living in Africa as a child. He dreamt of co-existing with the animals that he’s had a lifelong fascination with, and “experiencing their incredible will to survive.” Africa would’ve been the perfect locale for a survivor, for a tortured child who would have felt more at peace with animals thousands of miles away than he ever did in his broken home.

West By West: My Charmed, Tormented Life insists itself as a memoir, not an autobiography. There is a prevailing notion that sports autobiographies unabashedly laud career achievements and gloss over the details that truly make a person worth knowing. ‘West By West’ is not that book. Key moments in West’s life – those worthy of celebration and those unbearably grim – are told with the knowledge that his battles with depression, grief, and rage are never too far behind. What emerges is the story of a man broken at childhood by an abusive father and his brother’s untimely death, whose scars would follow him into success, turning triumph into the same crippling sadness that occupied his youth.

It’s impossible to ignore the murderous rage West had bottled up in his adolescence. He takes the time to think of a life in which he had carried out his most abhorrent thoughts. No college. No NBA. No Olympics.  Everything we’d come to know of him, every success he’d come to know himself, wouldn’t have been possible. The contempt he had for his father is palpable. West is a man who exists as a collage of varying contradictions, and it’s scary to think that the same murderous rage that could have derailed his success is the same force that instilled his drive – to win, to be perfect, to attain his father’s love and attention.

This has been incredibly bleak thus far, and yes, the book is absolutely this depressing. Ironically, the way in which the title was printed on the cover (specifically the size of each word) runs inversely to the gravity that each word holds in the book. West’s ‘tormented life’ receives the least emphasis on the cover even though Torment wrestles for control of the memoir, establishing itself as the third writer. West, printed big and bold, undermines how shy, withdrawn, and just how uncomfortable he seems writing solely about himself.

What’s left is Charmed, a fitting word that highlights West’s delightfully odd sense of humor, and anecdotes that were too good to be left out.  Despite the book’s omnipresent gloom, there are still rays of light.

Some odd notables:

  • West was a churchgoer as a kid, but instead of finding peace with God, he found church bingo — another excuse to fire up his competitive spirit, and obsession with doing things (and in this case, shouting things) quickly.
  • West finds himself “wondering who would win in a fight between a coyote and a pit bull,” a silly thought that didn’t come from his childhood, but in sitting down to write his memoir.
  • West and legendary Lakers announcer Chick Hearn were escape artists. They would stage competitions to see who could inconspicuously leave team functions.
  • In an Italian restaurant, West questioned a diner sitting next to him about her choice of beverage. She was drinking beer (instead of red wine) with her pasta, which he found preposterous. So he paid for her meal.

The book meanders (sometimes annoyingly so), and it may take a few pages for West to find the point he was trying to make, but it speaks to the uneasiness that West has in discussing himself for too long. West’s deviations often involve people dear to him, often telling their stories or stories that have far more to do with them than himself. He loves people; far more than he loves himself – something the book makes all too clear early on.

Just as pervasive as the gloom is West’s (more welcomed) imagination. Through his imagination, readers get a glimpse of his humble basketball beginnings, where “clutch” was first constructed. Practicing alone, West would concoct scenarios with imaginary teams and real stakes. Imaginary buzzer beaters would swish or clank. His imaginary team would win or would lose (though he’d make sure he’d win the next one). Mr. Clutch was born in the deep country landscape of West Virginia, where West not only discovered his unconquerable addiction to basketball, but also the beauty of the land in which he was raised.

In his own mind, he found relief from the pressing realities that made him morose. In this life or another, Jerry West is an animal roaming his domain, fully exercising his innate instinct of survival – away from the hurt he endured as a child. He is Santa Claus, blessing others with random acts of generosity – showing his love and appreciation for others, something he admittedly struggles with at times. He’s a mind submerged in wanderlust – furiously going from one place to another both in life and in thought. At once, he can dream of Africa, and in the same instant, construct the perfect game between the best basketball players in history (including himself, of course).

He is one of the greatest basketball players in history. He is the Logo (the image they use is something he scoffs at; he is dribbling with his left hand, something West claims was a weakness). His most memorable shot was a 60+ foot buzzer-beater against the New York Knicks in Game 3 of the 1970 Finals (which he resents, since his Lakers eventually lost in overtime). His list of success goes on and on, but he remains fixated on his failures to this day.

“I know that incarcerated is a strong word, but that is how I felt; it is also how I felt in the locker room before a game, like a caged animal that needed to break out, and it is why I still, today, look to escape from places and keep moving, a man on the run.” (20).

It’s a depressing book. Of that, I’m sure. It’s full of wonderful anecdotes both from his time as a player, a GM, and a father – some of which will require rereading. It’s dense, and there are a lot of emotions that are laid out plain to see. Through interviews that co-writer Jonathan Coleman conducted with those closest to him, it’s evident that West is a beloved figure, though you’d have to dig through all of West’s self-loathing to get to that point.

If there is any hope, any peace in this book, it’s because he says there is. If you’re skeptical by the end of the book, I don’t blame you. I’m not so sure Jerry West believes it either.

You can buy the book on Amazon.com

The NBA And Noroviruses

November 2, 2011 in by with 2 Comments

Photo from Bay View Compass via Flickr

Gastroenteritis (stomach inflammation) is a terrible, terrible thing. I know a thing or two about it. Diarrhea, vomiting, and abdominal cramps are common enough symptoms in everyday illnesses and prescription medication. Common enough for us to dismiss the trio of discomforts as something more or less unavoidable nuisances. But gastroenteritis is more than just a one-time deal. Gastroenteritis has you trapped in your bathroom chamber, afraid to leave. So you sit down or kneel over, just waiting for it all to be purged. But illnesses hardly ever comply with your schedule. And whether you’re sick for a day, two days, or two weeks is left to the virus. It saps your energy, your time, and your ability to function outside a 10-foot radius of a restroom.

I’m sure players like Dwight Howard know this well. In a recent report published by Clinical Infectious Diseases (CID), 13 NBA teams had players and staff members suffering from gastroenteritis in December 2010. The report makes sense of a rather mysterious bug that ravaged the Orlando Magic roster early last season, forcing Howard and other players to sit out of a back-to-back on Dec. 3-4 due to “stomach illness.” The culprit? Noroviruses.

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, the norovirus is defined as “a highly contagious illness caused by infection with a virus called norovirus. It is often called by other names, such as viral gastroenteritis, stomach flu, and food poisoning.” Noroviruses can be spread through contaminated food and drink, as well as objects that have also been contaminated. Clearly the object in mind for this specific outbreak is a basketball. But considering how much time a team can spend together in enclosed locations, the virus could have been spread at any point.

More from the report:

The 13 NBA teams with cases played a total of 49 games against one another during the study period. Two of these games were identified as potential team-to-team transmission events. In these events, both donor teams (teams D and F) had cases with laboratory-confirmed norovirus infection. All 4 NBA staff members and players on the 2 recipient teams (teams E and G) that developed gastroenteritis within 72 hours after the game reported no similar illness in their households during the week before their illness onset (Figure 1; online only)

via Transmission of Norovirus Among NBA Players and Staff, Winter 2010–2011 | CID

CID’s research also notes that a 10-year analysis of NBA injury reports has shown that “gastrointestinal illness represented the second most common non-game-related injury or illness among players.”

Of course, playing through illness and injury is a mark of toughness and resilience, something to be admired. But playing through norovirus-induced gastroenteritis has enormous consequences that affect more than just the suffering individual. When games eventually start, players will surely storm courts with fervor. With so many games lost already, it’s understandable for players to want to make up for lost time. But, as seen by the depleted Magic roster last December, when you’re sick, you’re sick. There’s no use toughing it out if you’re only going to take your teammates out with you.

So, yeah. Wash your hands obsessively. Or else start purchasing books you’ve always wanted to read. You’ll need all of them when the norovirus strikes you.

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Point Guard Defense

November 1, 2011 in by with 7 Comments

 

Author Illustration

From the Magrathean Archives:

Fook: “Oh, Deep Thought. We want you to tell us the answer.”

Deep Thought: “The answer to what?”

Lunkwill: “The answer to…everything. We’d really like an answer. Something simple.”

Deep Thought: “Hmm, have to think about that… Return to this place in exactly seven-and-a-half million years.”

HoopSpeak’s Ethan Sherwood Strauss asks, does point guard defense matter? It might surprise you to find Deron Williams isn’t a very good defender by this measure, though not so much if you’re a Utah Jazz fan. With a relative lack of definitive defensive stats to draw upon, the eyeball is largely relied on to make a conscious determination on the matter. Point guards of significant stature, intensity, and athleticism, like Williams,  can easily play tricks with your mind’s eye, fooling you into believing they’re making an impact on the defensive end of the floor.

Similarly, small, quick gamblers like Chris Paul and Russell Westbrook can present a mirage when examined solely through the myopic-scope of standard statistical analysis, such as posting impressive steals numbers. While Ethan’s opinion may simply be tainted by being forced to cover one Monta Ellis –who picks pockets more often than Manu flops even as not a rational soul in the basketball world would ever claim he resembles anything approaching a good defender– we do have a few other resources to draw upon in attempting to compose a more complete picture. (If you didn’t click on the TrueHoop link at the top of this paragraph, please do so now.)

Ford Prefect: “Is it finished?”

Zaphod Bebblebrox: “No, no, no, there’s more, there’s more. They go back.”

Arthur Dent: “What, seven-and-a-half million years later?!”

Zaphod Bebblebrox: “That’s right. They do.” [presses play]

Fook: “Deep Thought, do you have…”

Deep Thought: “…an answer for you? Yes. But you’re not gonna like it.”

Fook: “It doesn’t matter, we must know it.”

Deep Thought: “Alright, the answer…is…”

“Only when you know the question will you know what the answer means,” and I’m not convinced we’ve asked the right question in this case. But lucky for you, you won’t have to wait around for 10 million years to find out.

Who leaps to mind in today’s NBA when you think “defensive point guards?” We’ve already ruled out Chris Paul and Deron Williams (by any measure outside of an iso post-up situation, just trust me on this –you won’t find anything to support otherwise), so we’re left with whom? Certainly Jason Kidd and Rajon Rondo. Maybe Andre Miller and Kirk Hinrich. I’d add anything-Philadelphia, but that’s about it.

The proper question might not be does point guard defense matter, but rather, is point guard defense being played? Because if it’s not, by and large, then it’s difficult to make a case that it does, indeed, matter.

It wasn’t always the way of today with PG D, and it’s only due partially to the “no-hands” era (which I examined more closely here). Offense is sexy. Defense is dirty work no one wants to do anymore. In an effort to understand how we got here I charted the last 25 years of O/D-rating and Points-Per-Game and set it to a timeline of points-past that were well known for their defensive prowess.

Note and disclaimer: Offensive and Defensive ratings are per BasketballReference.com, and are an accurate measure of points scored and allowed. As every action has an opposite and equal reaction, league-wide O and D-Rtgs will always be equal in the summary

I realize that big men have a much larger impact on defense than the little guys, but I believe perimeter players, specifically point guards,  give in far too easily today, playing more with their hands than feet

We used to regularly see point guards on the NBA’s All-Defensive 1st Team –Dennis Johnson and/or Mo Cheeks were there for nine straight years– as well as multiple PGs on it (count ‘em, four times, past) and even the lone Defensive Player of the Year-as-a-point, The Glove, but no more. In the last nine years we’ve had four total appearances, one of which was the aforementioned Chris Paul, and two accounted for by Rondo.

On HoopSpeakLive Ethan notes (4:38 mark), “For all the talk of Rajon Rondo and his defense I don’t think point guard defense matters that much. It does have an impact, but it’s the least important of all the positions [defensively]…it’s not clear he’s having a huge impact.”

Certainly point guard defense matters. Your point is not only your your first line of defense, he’s also supposed to be controlling the game, and not just on the offensive end of things. A point should be doing everything he can to dictate where the opposition goes with the ball, thereby increasing his team’s chance to get a stop.

Most of today’s point guards will all-too-easily take a half-hearted swipe as the ball goes by, leaving their big men exposed in the paint to try and mop up after ‘em, which is just about the worst-case scenario for these guys considering the athleticism and ability of players nowadays, as Ethan notes. Once the ball gets in the paint, the vast majority of the time it will end in points.

If you checked the “no-hands era” link above you noticed that there are more guards on the NBA’s .500 field goal percentage list these days –indeed, three of em made it this year and Steve Nash was right there til the end.  Among point guards, Tony Parker led all in FG% last season, and two other poor 3-point shooters, Rajon Rondo and Andre Miller also find themselves in the top ten of PF FG%. Why? Because point guards don’t defend each other worth a damn, instead relying on help D to bail ‘em out.

Free throw attempts leaders in 2010-11 by position shake out thus: PGs 11, SGs 7, SFs 7, PFs 11, Cs 4. Point guards have found that if the pick-and-roll with their power forward isn’t there they can easily drive the paint now where one of three things generally happens: 1) They score 2) They find an open ‘mate when defenses are forced to collapse to help, or 3) They end up at the line.

According to HoopData stats last season, of the 14 point guard FG% leaders 63% of shots were made “at the rim,” compared to 41% for everything from 3-23 feet. Of the ten leading point guard free throw attempt’ers, 59% of shots were either at the rim or from 16 feet out to beyond the 3-line, compared to just 12% from 3′-9′ and a paltry 9% from 10′-15′ out. If PGs aren’t driving the paint they’re likely popping 3s or near-3s. Chicks dig scars, and chicks dig the long ball, right? Anything in between is no-real-man’s land.

The 3-ball is more prominent now than ever before in the NBA, and high-usage point guards are fond of trying to ring in from range. The 14 best FG-shooting points average out to make about one in three tries, 34%, last season, while 3s comprise about one in every four of their FGAs. An interesting thing happened when I charted in the 3-point percentage to the above graph.

We might expect that 3s would more closely follow along with PPG, while instead we find that over the last 20-plus years it instead appears more closely tied to D-ratings. It took less than a decade –the 3 was first adopted by the NBA in the 1979-80 season– for the 3-ball to integrate itself as a permanent weapon in the arsenals of offensive players and it’s effects have been attached to defenses ever since.

As the perimeter is the domain of point guards first and foremost, as heads egos butt initially from here on in to the paint, on the majority of possessions in most systems, defensively and offensively, this is an area of the game their impact should be felt. Yet we’re experiencing a high,  sustained rate of made 3-pointers. Granted, not all of them come from point guards, but PGs all too often readily let a man fly and hope for the best, waiting with extended hands for a chance to answer at the other end rather than make an attempt to quell a momentum-swinging play in the first place.

Back in the day, one of the most tenacious and annoying defenders in the league, John Stockton, would reportedly terrorize his opponent early in every game by “accidentally” driving his knee as hard as he could into his opposition’s thigh, thereby setting a tone of toughness that seems to be lacking in these “entitled” times of little-to-no real defense. A cursory search of PGs then and now readily shows a separation of several feet on the D end of things for most perimeter players.

Perimeter point guard defense has seemingly said, “So long, and thanks for all the fish.”

_____

More pieces to the puzzle

Defensive Pace Factor, helping explain why Chris Paul gets so many steals; he gets more chances

Sebastian Pruiti’s recent look at How Top Point Guards Are Defended

Zach and Ethan touch on system on HoopSpeakLive. Deron Williams and Devin Harris show it in their numbers before/after 2011 trade

Baron Davis plays weird defense, or at least he used to (Video)

Allen Iverson Is Crying Wolf

November 1, 2011 in by with 2 Comments

Photo by @TheWagofMutombo

A shepherd-boy, who watched a flock of sheep near a village, brought out the villagers three or four times by crying out, “Wolf! Wolf!” and when his neighbors came to help him, laughed at them for their pains.

The Wolf, however, did truly come at last. The Shepherd-boy, now really alarmed, shouted in an agony of terror: “Pray, do come and help me; the Wolf is killing the sheep”; but no one paid any heed to his cries, nor rendered any assistance. The Wolf, having no cause of fear, at his leisure lacerated or destroyed the whole flock.

via Short Stories: The Boy Who Cried Wolf by Aesop.

The extended NBA offseason has been littered with little morsels that hardly qualify as news, scavenged by those of us twisted enough to seek sustenance during lockout limbo. Among those slim pickings, Allen Iverson stands as a shining beacon of consistency. At least twice so far, Iverson offered up a familiar refrain; he is ready to play basketball in the NBA – for anyone – and he is willing to be a team player and do what is necessary in order to fit into a team’s structure. His most recent proclamation predictably came just days before an event featuring the Answer* is scheduled for November 12-13 in Las Vegas.

*Featuring might be a bit strong. Kevin Durant, Amar’e Stoudemire and Andre Igoudala, among others, are expected to participate.

The man who blazed a trail for Deron Williams by briefly signing with Besiktas in Turkey*even said that coming off the bench “makes it easier for him.” Iverson’s history says otherwise, unfortunately. Two of his last three stints in the NBA ended poorly, as he was unable to accept a limited role with the Pistons and Grizzlies, playing only three games with Memphis in his last action in the league. The only positive signing for Iverson recently was his contract with the Sixers. Due to personal issues, he quickly left the team; at least his last official uniform in the league was the one in which he performed so splendidly for so many years.

*Insomuch as they’re both point guards who signed contracts with said team, and Iverson’s came first chronologically. Other than that, their tenures have little in common, excepting Williams’s reported complaints which seemed to quiet when his play picked up.

That’s all emotional bunk, though; Iverson would gladly retire in any of the other 29 jerseys if it meant another chance to get on the floor in an NBA game. He is at his most candid when he says that he simply wants to play – words we’ve read countless times this offseason, that seemed so hollow when deployed as a PR campaign, that coming from Iverson sound sincere and revealing. Surely he wants to play above else; it’s why so many of his last, flailing attempts in the league ended poorly. He couldn’t accept not playing when he knew – even if no one else did – that he could help his team and make them better. He had his demons off the court, mental blocks that he says prevented him from concentrating as fully on the game at hand as he needs to in order to be Allen Iverson. He claims those obstacles are gone now. He’s ready to play.

The easy conclusion is that Iverson is crying wolf and doesn’t know when to stop for his own good. There’s something that always struck me as odd about that particular fable, however. While I assume that little children back in Aesop’s time were much hardier than I could ever hope to be at any point in my life, it seems that even a self-made prepubescent like the little bugger in The Boy Who Cried Wolf should have received some sort of intervention after the first or second time that he decided to pretend that a vicious apex carnivore was threatening his livelihood and his life. Maybe at that point the townsfolk who rushed to his help once or twice should have looked at each other and said, “You know what? How about we give the job that demands responsibility to someone who isn’t going to set the archetype for Bart Simpson?” When do the people who are at the apex of responsibility supposed to step in and actually be responsible? Doesn’t delegation depend on dependable people?

As much as I want to blame Iverson, this is his nature. He could be telling the truth, and his past may prevent all of us from ever knowing what he has left and what role he could play. In the off chance that he does get back into the league and is the Iverson of old – for the worse, not the better – I’ll have to wonder how many times the village elders who hired him have cried wolf themselves.

Day Of The Dead (OMG ZOMBIES?!?)

November 1, 2011 in by with 0 Comments


Photo by Lewis and Clark Community College via flickr

Tucson, Arizona is a fitting place to spend the first day of lost NBA regular season games. November 1st is a day of celebration in many of the cultures that come to a crossroads here, a city that supports its basketball first and foremost (the Wildcat football season isn’t actually happening, we keep telling ourselves)  fweaves a college community among vibrant Catholic and Mexican traditions – among many other religious and ethnic groups.

Today’s celebrations are as coupled as those populations themselves. Catholics celebrate today as All Saints’ Day – a thousand-year old holiday. It is also the first day of the Dia de los Muertos celebration, a combination of millenia-long indigenous rituals, centuries-old Aztec festivals and the relatively more recent integration of Roman Catholic faith and traditions in Mexico. In a much less meaningful way, it is the Day of the Dead in the NBA as well. Though the news came down weeks ago, we are now officially in Day 1 of meaningful* loss. Athletes often remind us that their most important awards – MVPs, championships – can’t be taken away from them. They will have them in the flesh until the day they pass and in the annals and on our tongues when they transition from legend to myth. It’s a touching thought. The cold downside is that these games, contrarily, can never be taken back. Not by the players or by the owners, and certainly not by the fans.

*This is my obligatory disclaimer that it’s “meaningful in the sports sense” so that only half the people reading this yell at me for being insensitive, instead of 90% of them.

It’s a dour note. And as I watch people in their skull face paint make their way downtown for a night of music and revelry, singing and dancing more than talking and walking as they go, I’m reminded that the Day of the Dead is, first and foremost, a celebration. People remember their lost loved ones not by mourning them, but by writing satirical little poems pointing out funny, quirky behaviors and attributes of those who have gone before them.

Likewise, in our best moments, should we treat the NBA lockout. Don’t get me wrong. As a great philosopher said, “this s— sucks.” I want my basketball, and I want it now. That’s not going to affect anything other than my view of the sport I love and the world around me, though, so why mourn? If entire cultures can embrace a day of loss and turn it into giant parties, so should we be willing to treat this unfortunate pause in play. Many have, celebrating the future, the present and the past of the profession we all adore. Try to follow their lead, especially when things are the bleakest. Don’t let the skirmish between the players and the owners dampen your affinity for the game. There will be times of anger, of course, especially when people say stupid things about purses. Laugh at those people.* Basketball will be back sooner than later. The more positive we can be while we wait, the more bearable the lull will be, methinks.

This is the 21st year of Dia de los Muertos celebrations in Tucson. It is a tradition that has seen two NBA lockouts so far. It will likely see more. The rituals, the remembrance and the fun are as much a part of this city as the disagreement between owners and labor over millions of dollars is ingrained into the business of basketball.

It is our Day of the Dead, regardless of beliefs. In that spirit, let’s  make the pain go away.

Lost: Day One.

November 1, 2011 in by with 0 Comments

Have a Seat

October 31, 2011 in by with 3 Comments

Fans have a voice, too. Right? Right?

Image via KidKameleon on Flickr

J.D. Hastings, in a blog post last week, pointed out that in this two-party negotiation, there are actually 5 important stakeholders: 1) The players; 2) The owners; 3) The media, who cover, disseminate, speculate, leak, and analyze; 4) The agents, who lobby for the players so they can make sure they keep their slice of player salaries; and 5) The fans. Regarding the fans, Hastings points out that although they are “the basis upon which every other level of this economic industry is built [they are] regularly described as helpless bystanders in the entire process.”

Thanks to more interactive forms of media in 2011 (sup twitter!), fans have been far from silent during the lockout negotiations. But it’s not like they (we?) have a seat at the negotiating table. Both the owners and players may claim to speak for the fans, but it’s clear that neither of them do (at least not fully). If they (we!) did have a seat at the table, what would their (our) interests be?

Avoiding the cancellation of games, I’d assume, would be the number one priority; but that ship has sailed. What else do fans want?

Maybe some fans want to make sure their players don’t run away from their small market town, leaving them in the lurches of championship-lessness for another four decades. Maybe other fans want to make sure that their town and their passion can be a target for players that have their sights set on bigger and better (or at least sunnier and income-tax-free) things.

Do fans want respect? Maybe they don’t want a fight over millions and billions of dollars rubbed in their faces when 9% of them across the country are trying to nail down a job.

How about something as simple as “being entertained?” A quality product put out for them on a regular basis, to which people can turn to help them escape their lives for a little while, giving them relate to something bigger than themselves.

As a fan, and a season ticket holder (so what if it’s the Wizards; I love basketball, ok?!), this is what I want:

[flash http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5F_zRBsC5BY w=640 h=360]

If I had 2 minutes at that negotiating table, I’d show the parties this video, and tell them that’s what I wanted before they kicked me out. If you had a seat at the table, what would you ask for? Leave your thoughts, requests, and demands in the comments.

Stay in School

October 31, 2011 in by with 0 Comments

Staredown

Image via shafik on Flickr

One of my favorite courses I took in grad school was a weekend course called “Negotiation Skills.” I figured it would be a pretty easy class: get in groups, schmooze with your classmates, make some deals that don’t actually have any bearing on your real life, get an A, go home, and eat some pizza.

Well, most of that was true (no pizza, though, frownyface). But the class sure wasn’t easy, and if you were participating correctly, you couldn’t help caring about the deals you were making. There we were swapping squares of paper, and suddenly pride got involved somehow. We wanted what we thought we deserved. The problem with that was that we ALL wanted what we deserved in a zero-sum game. More for me = less for you.

The most interesting part of the course for me was when we learned the difference between Positional Negotiation and Principled Negotiation. I never realized there was more than one kind, so that fact in itself was informative (there are many more kinds that I won’t get into here). Positional negotiation refers to (and I’m paraphrasing my prof here) bargaining to put yourself in a better position relative to your adversary. Normally, one sees this type of negotiation when parties don’t have to repeatedly work together and have a strong cooperative relationship (think: buying a car). However, this seems to be a lot of what we’re seeing publicly in the NBA and NBPA press conferences: blame-shifting, accusations of greed, the digging-in of heels. It’s hostile, it sucks to watch, and it seems counterproductive to the longevity of the partnership between the league and its players.

We spent most of our course discussing Principled Negotiation. It sets itself apart from the previous type of negotiation by concentrating on four tenets:

  1. Get an objective standard and try to match the results to that.
  2. Make sure you don’t confuse the people and the problem.
  3. Think outside the box on issues that may be important but aren’t discussed.
  4. Most importantly: focus on the interests of each party and not their positions.

Since every pro sports league in the country seems to have a different way of doing business, Tenet 1 is difficult to follow in this situation. There are multiple objective baselines for the league to follow.

But maybe we could avoid stepping all over Tenet 2 by trying to keep the more inflammatory members (*ahem SternKesslerAllenGilbertGarnett) out of the room. Although, admittedly it may be difficult to get things done without Stern in the room. (Though maybe he should cool his tone before his dreams of expanding basketball internationally take players out of his league for good.)

Tenet 4 is the most important, but it doesn’t seem like either side is being 100% forthright. Hey owners: is the structure of the league really untenable? Then why did you essentially renew CBA in 2004? If it’s really about covering the losses over the past few years, then say it. There’s no shame in that. The players also have an interest in keeping the league viable. They want to play and they want to make money, too. Why not flip the percentage distribution so that you can recoup losses over the first few years of the CBA, then flip it back in the players’ favor over the last few years once you’re afloat (and I use that word loosely, since they’re all afloat and will be for ∞ years). I’m by no means a negotiation expert. Last I checked, one of the top negotiation experts in the country thought these meetings were a lost cause. But at least it looks like I’m trying to use Tenet 3 once in a while, guys.

Maybe to league and players, they’re just swapping squares of paper back and forth. Billions and billions or squares of paper. Maybe there’s too much pride on each side to come to an amicable agreement. Maybe there’s not enough pride on each side to respect each other at the podium.  Maybe percentage-wise it’s a zero-sum game. But building from the momentum of a great season promises to make the stack of paper bigger, ensuring everyone gets more anyway.

If you’d also like to become an armchair negotiation aficionado, I’d highly recommend checking out this site and reading their book.

Feeling Like a Kid Again

October 31, 2011 in by with 0 Comments

talking to no one

Image via bionicteaching on flickr

Anyone who watched basketball during the 1990s is sure to have some nostalgic images seared into their brains. About 90% of them are of Michael Jordan dismantling an opponent. That other 10% are probably of Michael Jordan dismantling your home team. Growing up in Cleveland during the 1990s (oh hey, that other 10%), my cousins and I loved watching the NBA. We watched Cavs games. We bought NBA gear. I still have my Mark Price home jersey. My older cousin was DEVASTATED when he lost one of his Latrell Sprewell high tops during family car trip to Florida; it was the worst Spring Break of his life. Almost as devastated as I was when my family moved into a new house, and I somehow lost 2 David Robinson cards (from the “David’s Best” series) and two Alonzo Mourning rookie cards.

Oh you better believe we collected basketball cards. The three of us got a whole set one year for Christmas, and we divvied it up in a card draft (Not unrelated: if anyone happens to want 26 Calbert Cheaney rookie cards, hit me up). Why we needed three separate subscriptions to Beckett Basketball Monthly, I’ll still never understand. But we scoured those pages every month when those issues came in the mail, and every month we’d make fun of George Mikan’s glasses. Posters of Larry Johnson (as himself and GrandMama) adorned our walls. We tore pictures of players out of magazines (sports or otherwise) and taped them everywhere. My favorite was my height comparison chart of Muggsy Bogues and Shawn Bradley (Did you know the shortest adult in the world in the mid-90s was 18 inches tall and lived in rural India?).

In 1998, I took down my magazine pages, boxed up my cards, ended my Beckett subscription, rolled up GrandMama, and put them all in the back of my closet. Of all these pictures and mementos and keepsakes I had of the NBA around me at all times, the lasting picture I have of the NBA in the 1990s is Patrick Ewing, in a big brown suit, hulking over a microphone, telling me that he wanted more money, and he wasn’t going to play until he got it.

That may not be what he said, but it’s what I heard. Had I known then what I know now, I don’t think I would have been able to comprehend the complexities of labor disputes, salary caps, free agency, and why billionaires and millionaires fight. To be honest, I still don’t. But I was just entering my teen years, and these rich guys were taking something away from me that I’d enjoyed during my childhood. I didn’t get it, but I blamed who I could see: the players. Why didn’t they want to play? Why did they need more money? Whatever the answer to these questions (and dozens of other more educated ones I never thought to ask), the damage was done. The NBA lost me as a fan. It helped that the marginally competent Cleveland Indians were there to salve my fan-wounds, but it wasn’t the same. The characters were different. The personalities were different. The pace was very different. I was different.

Since then, the players have gotten a bit better at controlling their message, or at least the owners have gotten just as bad at making themselves look bad. Maybe it’s a sign of the times: labor disputes and anti-billionaire sentiments aren’t exactly rare these days. It’s not like both sides don’t have legitimacy to their causes; they just don’t need to look like jerks. Their federally-appointed mediator threw up his hands and walked out, saying that there was nothing he could do: the lockout was terminal. November’s games are gone, and those might just be the first. In 98-99, the NBA had a shortened season. A pretty poor one from what I recall (though I didn’t watch much of it). Apparently it’s worth forgoing hundreds of millions of dollars lost because both sides are too stubborn to make it work. Will dwindling fanbases be worth it too?

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