Photo by Fellowship of the Rich on Flickr

QUO VADIMUS

By Matt Moore

I’m never going to doubt Masai Ujiri again.

Throughout last year’s debacle, I was convinced Ujiri was out of his league, thrust into his first job as an NBA GM  facing too serious of a decision: what to get in return for Carmelo Anthony. Each month that creeped along, I felt Ujiri was losing leverage, risking losing the sweet deals already on the table for the gun-gun-gunner small forward franchise player. I was sure the Nuggets were on the brink of disaster.

Once again, I’m proven to be a moron.

I hate teams that don’t commit to a plan. You need to decide what you’re doing to win a championship. The Hawks are a debacle, but at least they have a plan. “We have good players, we’ve invested time and money in them, and we’ve won a lot of games with them, so we’re going to overpay for them and hope  miracle happens.” For the Nuggets, it’s tempting to wonder what they’re doing, why they’re re-signing Nene while building through the draft; why they’re picking up versatile young players with upside to bargain with while committing to long-term contracts for Arron Afflalo and ignoring the J.R. Smith situation.

But when you take a step back, when you don’t consider any one decision within the context the previous one, two, or three, when you see the whole board, something begins to take shape.

The Nuggets are doing everything at once. And it’s working.

They’re a playoff team that’s looking to the future. They’re a young team with veteran leadership. They’re committed for the long-term and have a lot of flexibility. They’re going to be pretty good and they could be great in a few years.

Think about how good this team is going to be if any one of the following things happen:

1. Nene takes a step forward in his prime and becomes a legitimate franchise center.

2. Lawson makes “the leap” and evolves into a top-flight point guard.

3. Gallinari puts it all together, which he’s shown flashes of already, being an aggressive, dynamic perimeter shooter who can dunk on you, rebound, pass from the wing or high post and defend.

4. Faried turns out to be a defensive force.

5.  Jordan Hamilton surprises and fills in offensively.

6. Afflalo becomes one of the top seven shooting guards in the league.

Any one of those things happen and the Nuggets are a step ahead. Without any of them? It’s a late-seed playoff team that’s a hard out.

There’s all this talk about Smith and his absence. Everyone says “Yeah, he’s nuts, but look at the numbers.” The problem is that the Nuggets’ offense under Karl has always been good. And that’s on account of the system maximizing each player’s potential, not any one combination of players. And Smith? Smith jacks with that. The reason he gets yanked so much isn’t because of pure shot selection or defense. It’s that he goes off script. There’s improvising. And then there’s turning “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof” into “Rent.” They’re two different plays!

Chandler was never coming back. They’re set at the wings, and he was always going to go elsewhere (and probably be very good).

And KMart? Come on. The team’s moved on.

So this team could be very good this year. They could be great next year. And they may wind up very Rockets-like, always with superb talent, never with a superstar. But they’ve got so many guys who could become elite, they’re not lacking hope. This is a team that has improved with every move it’s made. Traded Raymond Felton, a great starter because they already had Lawson? Oh, they only got Andre Miller, an extremely capable back-up who can also lead the team when it needs settling… and a draft pick which became Jordan Hamilton who I’m very high on. They grabbed Rudy Fernandez and Corey Brewer for nothing, for crying out loud.

They’re going in every direction, all at once, and it’s kind of beautiful to watch.

I’m sold. Masai Ujiri knows what he’s doing. Let’s see what happens next.

Let’s Start Cult About Ty Lawson:

By Scott Leedy

It may seem that a cult about Ty Lawson may be somewhat if not completely boring. Ty has neither an eccentric nor exuberant personality. You won’t find anything crazy or noteworthy on his twitter feed, and unlike his former teammate JR Smith their are no bizarre on court antics to behold. The cult of Ty Lawson is not one of personality or character, rather it is an encapsulation of what Ty Lawson’s play exudes. Lots of players travel at tremendous speeds. Being fast or quick isn’t inherently new or unique. What separates Ty from the rest of these superhuman speedsters is his ability to seem totally under control while moving at a break neck pace.

Ty’s gift for quickness and explosion is as much cognitive as it physical. Players this fast are supposed to feel out of control, and supposed to make too many mistakes. But Ty’s brain works at a quicker rate. It’s not that time slows down for Ty; he was designed to live at a faster pace. It’s almost as if Lawson lives on an entirely different temporal paradigm. It’s what makes him both successful and breathtaking. He’s able to combine the chaos and destruction of incendiary speed with the tactical advantages of sharp, deliberate decision making.

Nowhere is Ty’s combination of craftiness and explosiveness more evident then in his remarkable ability to finish shots at the rim. Standing at what is likely a generous listing of 5 feet eleven inches, Lawson was able to finish an impressive 63.2% of his shots at the rim last season. Ty has a very powerful burst towards that rim, that combined with incredible body control and basketball acumen allow him to engage and finish over much taller defenders.

Where others feel limited by their height or size, Ty has found ways to transcend it. Pushing at the perception of possibility and limits stands at the essence of Ty Lawson’s existence. He makes us believe in more. Forces us to test and question our notions of human capability. He’s as much a concept as he his a basketball player; the true embodiment of “fast”.

A BRIEF VIDEO INTERLUDE

By Curtis Harris

Like Whoopi Goldberg cast off to a convent in Sister Act, Melvin Ely, Wilson Chandler, Kenyon Martin and J.R. Smith are currently not having the times of their life in China. Here is their clarion call for help, aid and comfort.

I WILL REMEMBER YOU WILL YOU REMEMBER ME

This team is going to be overlooked by many and not win a championship. But for fans of this team, it could wind up as one of the most popular squads in franchise history. It has everything you could want for a team like this. The veteran underrated star with one name, the dynamic young point, the Italian hot stuff, the gravedigger blue-collar rookie. And Birdman. Always Birdman.

There are teams that we love not because they’re great, but because they are enjoyable. Those are the teams that the NBA’s really about. Don’t get fooled. This talk of greatness, pomp and circumstance, 72 wins and threepeats? Window dressing. It’s there for bandwagon fans and studio hosts. This league has a backbone of that Tuesday night in February double-overtime game when that player that you knew nothing about two years ago steals your heart with a dagger fadeaway three. The Nuggets are a team like that.

They’ve gone through so much with Melo but instead of being decimated, they’ve got a full house and a huge stack.

All-in for the Nuggets.

Quo Vadimus (Where Are We Going?)

by Andrew Lynch

The Dallas Mavericks hope to head toward the same end point they reached last year, but they’re about to Robert Frost that journey. The lasting image of the 2011 NBA Finals, for many, is Tyson Chandler sliding side-to-side along the perimeter, step for step with LeBron James, sealing off any angle of penetration into the lane and frustrating the Heat into submission. With Chandler in the Big Apple, Dallas takes the road less traveled, hoping that the addition of the versatile Lamar Odom will keep this team a top ten offense and that Brendan Haywood and Ian Mahinmi can fill some of the void on the defensive end. J.J. Barea is gone, but Rodrigue Beaubois is healthy and, the Mavericks hope, poised to take his place in the rotation.

Despite the change and question marks, the Jason Kidd/Dirk Nowitzki/Shawn Marion core is still in place, and mad scientist Rick Carlisle is still at the helm. That combination all but assures Dallas of a top-4 seed in the West, barring major injury. As the team showed last year, getting into the postseason is all it takes; surprising things can happen once a team is there. Unfortunately, the drastic drop-off in defense up the middle is likely to doom Dallas’ championship dreams, at least this season. Mark Cuban and the rest of the front office made a choice – to maintain cap flexibility after this season at the cost of losing their focal point on defense.

As a result, the Mavericks will be good enough to win plenty of games this year. They might even reach the Western Conference Finals, but odds are they’ll go no further. It’s the same situation as last season; the path to that point, however, is a mystery.

LET’S START A CULT ABOUT: JEROME RANDLE

by James Herbert

July 11, 2010. I’m pretty much the happiest man on Earth. I’m at Summer League in Vegas, a week into a massive road trip with my best friend. I can see Jimmy Goldstein, there’s a guy in an Adam Morrison jersey doing play by play from his seat, and I’m about to watch John Wall play his first game since going #1 overall.

I’m telling my friend — not a basketball fan — about Wall. About how I watched more college basketball in the previous season than I had in the few before, all because of him and his teammates. About how he’s easily going to be the best and most exciting player we see here. “See that alien-ish guy? It’s so cool that he’s coaching this team! He used to be really good and he played John Wall’s position.”

“Who’s that little guy?”

“That’s Jerome Randle..”

“He’s AWESOME!”

Yes, yes he was. Maybe not statistically (6 points on 3-7 shooting that day), but, man, that style. That handle. That utterly absurd handle. Randle was somehow more interesting to watch than Wall, in the eyes of a basketball newbie and in the eyes of a Wall fanatic. Every possession was more fun with this 5’9 guy zipping around. He’d effortlessly put defenders on their heels. He had the smoothest-looking jumper of anyone on the court. He threw the flashiest passes and had the best court vision. I hadn’t seen that much of him at Cal, but thought to myself, “This is an NBA player.” A month later, I named my pet rat after him.

Actual experts liked him that day, too, but his play at Summer League didn’t land him an NBA roster spot in 2010. He went to Turkey, where he dealt with the lack of foul calls and had the opportunity to play against Allen Iverson.

“Growing up, I thought I was him,” Randle said. “Dressed like him, talked like him, tried to play and shoot like him. Not making the NBA right away was disappointing, but playing against him was like the best consolation prize ever.”

Via “Berkeley to Turkey,” 2/24/11

If you grew up on Iverson like I did, this will make you want to start a cult about Jerome Randle if you didn’t already. If you’re in The Cult of Jerome Randle, you’d name your pets after him. You believe that he deserves to be treated like this wherever he goes. While he might not have an NBA MVP award in his future, you know it’s just a matter of time before he makes the league. After scoring agorillion points for the Mavs in the preseason, he signed with their D-League affiliate, the Texas Legends. Now we wait for his call-up.

Via Flickr, The Powerhouse Museum Collection

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The lockout has lifted, we have a season, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) And in the spirit of renewal, our shiny new cadre of writers is putting together previews for all 30 teams in true HP style. From where teams are going to what their disgrace is to explorations of pop culture, we are about to rock, salute us, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) So sit back, relax, and ponder the awesomeness of this fully operational Hardwood Paroxysm 3.0. -Ed.

Quo Vadimus (Where Are We Going?)

by Andrew Lynch

The issue for the Lakers isn’t where they’re going, but where many think they’re going. Between the twofold Chris Paul drama, Andrew Bynum’s suspension and potential health issues, and the continued wear and tear on Kobe Bryant, it seems more likely that the Lakers will make a break for the panic room than for the NBA Finals.

Bet against the Lakers at your own peril, however. They still have two of the best big men in the game and a coach dedicated to making the most of his height advantage on both ends of the floor. And for all of the question marks, Kobe remains – unquestionably – one of the top 10 players in the game. Quibble over his exact place on that list; he’ll scoff and figure out another way to keep his game at the lofty plane at which he (and we) are accustomed to him performing.

If my faith be misguided, so be it, because most importantly, the Lakers have options. A regional television deal worth nine figures a year is a nice start, even with a more robust revenue sharing plan in place. Having trade bait for the best defensive player in a generation is fantastic, though it might mean gutting the team and, potentially, further weakening a run at this year’s championship. That would be quite a bit of money wrapped up in Kobe and Dwight Howard, with little talent (and few players, really) left on the roster.

Fortunately, Los Angeles holds the ultimate trump card – if they want to, they can free up quite a bit of cap space. Not through trade and not through letting contracts expire over time. All they have to do is cut loose the anchor that potentially holds them back. If the Lakers really want to be the best going forward, then they have the best option of all:

#FreeKobeBryant

Who Wants To Start A Cult McBout: Josh McRoberts

By Danny Chau

You were never the smartest kid in school (well, except for fifth grade, but even that’s debatable). You were never that good with numbers. You stopped taking math class after your junior year in high school, and haven’t looked back since. You love basketball, but haven’t played in a long time. Your finest moment playing basketball happened in junior high, where you jumped into a pickup game during lunch and posted up the new kid at school who literally picked up his schedule three minutes before the lunch bell rang. He’s bigger than you and you have no choice but to turn and shoot a fadeaway. So you do. And you watch as the ball lofts up, and sinks through the basket. The ball forces the nylon net – by now half wasted away by the elements and childish shenanigans – to envelope the rim, like tattered fishnet stockings. Your friends all scream in disbelief, because they know just as well as you do that you are a pretty terrible basketball player. But you were invincible for those 20 seconds. You walk off after the shot, heading towards the lunch line with all the nonchalance in the world. You have a stupid smirk on your face because you know this will forever be the coolest thing that will ever happen in your life.

Welcome to the Cult of Josh McRoberts, a congregation of individuals of the same ilk, a place where we freely share our stories of mediocrity in life and basketball, and whatever lies in between. While all humans are capable of greatness, we have seen very little of it in ourselves. But we work diligently in the hope that one day, we too may be blessed with such grace. Our greatness is limited, but we celebrate it all the same.

In some respects, Josh McRoberts is not like us. He is an outstanding leaper, and has more than enough skill to become a good player in the NBA. Yet, Josh would be the first to tell you that he’s never been one to overachieve. He’s not a “numbers guy,” he says. He’s not a “stats guy.” He’s a long way from his McDonald’s High School All-American days at Carmel High School in Indiana. He’s a long way from his two years at Duke. As each year passed, larger chunks of hype faded and died. Some people aren’t meant to be stars, and some, like McBob, readily embrace that sense of resignation.

He’ll set a hard screen. He’ll shoot when he’s open. He’ll make the right pass. He’ll rebound, and work hard on defense. As a cult leader, he won’t be our salvation. He won’t lift us to a higher plane. That isn’t what this cult is about. When we see McBob throw down a put-back dunk in the bright lights of Hollywood playing for one of the most storied franchises in sports history, we’ll know there is a place somewhere out there for the rest of us. This is the Cult of Josh McRoberts. Are you ready to make the leap?

(… And I know he’s said he doesn’t like the nickname “McBob,” but I don’t think he’ll mind once he’s a cult figure. Once millions start chanting the nickname, he’ll have no choice but to embrace it, really. )

A Brief Video Interlude

by Clint Peterson

It won’t be graceful when it happens, when all the swag and fear come crashing down.

Will You Remember Me, I Will Remember You

by Connor Huchton

When we look back at the 2011-2012 Lakers, will we see the decrepit body of an aging power, now definitively fallen, or will we see a team proudly grasping on to success? Is this the year the Kobe-led Lakers finally collapse beneath age, injuries, and lack of depth? Or do they roar back on the strength of a core equal to almost any team in the league?

I think we’ll view this Lakers team as a transitional squad caught betwixt two eras, between the reign of late 2000s Kobe dominance and whatever new era of Lakers is formed. Inevitably, Kobe is reaching his last few golden years in the league. Try as he might (and believe me, no one tries harder), Kobe can’t simply play through injuries without costing himself longevity. We’ve already seen the beginning of Kobe’s down sloping athleticism in recent years, but that decline will only become more profound as his various injuries, new and old, take their toll.

Though this may very well be a successful season for the Lakers (they still have the talent to make a significant playoff run), how they prepare for the next era, the moving-on-after-Kobe days, will contribute to outside perception of this season. The natural thought is then to question whether the Lakers can make the obvious move and trade for Dwight Howard, ensuring some from of continued franchise success. Maybe they’ll get him. They certainly have the assets to make a trade, though they seem unwilling to part with Gasol and/or Bynum in pursuit of Howard. The recent Brook Lopez injury, which hurts the Knicks, may give them increased leverage.

But in the plausible eventuality that the Lakers fail to acquire Howard and don’t overcome an awful bench by reaching the Finals, what do we remember? Do we remember that this was the year the Lakers finally crumbled and couldn’t re-stock talent immediately? The Lakers won’t need to “rebuild” in the natural sense next year, as their roster will remain largely intact, but an influx of young talent is certainly necessary. As long as Kobe, Gasol, and Bynum remain near their current abilities, the franchise will compete at a relatively high level. But, for once, the idea of the Lakers as the end-all and be-all of Western Conference contenders is fading. If this is the year the Lakers fade from perception, how quickly they reenergize and retool will determine the identity of this season. We’re nearing a new era in Los Angeles, and this year will tell us how quickly (and in what capacity) the Lakers will occupy that future.

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The lockout has lifted, we have a season, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) And in the spirit of renewal, our shiny new cadre of writers is putting together previews for all 30 teams in true HP style. From where teams are going to what their disgrace is to explorations of pop culture, we are about to rock, salute us, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) So sit back, relax, and ponder the awesomeness of this fully operational Hardwood Paroxysm 3.0. -Ed.

Quo Vadimus (Where Are We Going?)

Via Flickr, Tyne & Wear Archives and Museums

by Clint Peterson

Jazz GM Kevin O’Connor doesn’t believe in rebuilding. But it’s hard to blame him in a market whose entire size can barely compare with a single New York borough. This franchise requires success to remain relevant, treading water financially, something they’ve managed admirably.

The Jazz were a hot mess last year, more mirage than substance for the first half, then quickly transitioning into ping pong ball mode in the blink of an eye. The departure of a rigid defensive system fostered by Jerry Sloan for a whole generation should help shore up a defense riddled with more holes than Liza’s famed bucket. Sloan believed in a “force middle” defensive system based almost entirely on effort and willpower, a strategy that worked well. When Mark Eaton was alive. (Note: Mark Eaton is alive and well)

Ty Corbin was thrust into the midst of a tornado last mid-season where all he could do was try and minimize the impact on his players and survive an onslaught of fan grief from a base that is used to winning, and winning a lot. The flex offense Utah uses — centered on ball and player movement and cuts, giving the handler loads of options — will remain largely intact, while Corbin has systematically altered the defensive scheme to one more conducive to it’s personnel by “forcing baseline.” The only team left using force middle is one centered around a defensive force, as Eaton was, in Orlando, anchored by a Defensive Player of the Year.

Pre-lockout, the Jazz brass visited each and every man on the roster, giving them agendas and instructions on what to do to be prepared to play on short notice for whenever the basketball nuclear winter was deemed at an end. There would be no Shawn Kemps on this franchise; players returned in the best shape of their careers lives, a necessity for both O and D systems employed by Utah. Al Jefferson spent literally six straight months at the Jazz’s preferred training facility in Santa Barbara, California, working with staff every single day, an effort that showed in a recent preseason game as he was often –GASP!– the first man down the floor in transition, quite a feat for any big man, but especially impressive due to his rep as a plodder.

Watch Big Al do “box jumps” at P3

CJ Miles, now the longest tenured Jazz man and a veteran at the tender age of 24, decided to dump all the LBs he’d gained in muscle the previous offseason in the interests of explosiveness and was the team’s most consistent player in a pair of preseason burns with the Blazers’ main rotation players, important as he’s been it’s most inconsistent player previously. Both Al and CJ are well aware of their reputations and have stated a public passion to change their games for the betterment of the Jazz.

Utah, long saddled with gems-found-in-the-rough and second round of the draft, have been stockpiling young top ten talent, realizing that that’s where the history of the NBA is written. While still somewhat unpolished, sophs Gordon Hayward and dynamo Derrick Favors — a player whose instincts, explosiveness, and strength rival those of Shaq and Dwight — will look to crack the starting lineup permanently this year and take the next step, while new additions Enes Kanter and Alec Burks stand to see significant time in an edict from the top down stating that the players who have earned it will see the most floor time. Corbin has shown already that he’s more flexible than Sloan when it comes to lineup insertions.

As currently constituted, and despite wide-held belief that the Jazz will once again be represented on the ping pong platform, they could challenge for the lower echelon of playoff positioning in the West if things break their way — they’re in better condition on a compressed schedule than any other team I’ve seen yet, and many West contenders got worse in the offseason scrums. Add to that that they’re once again stable with free agent vet Earl Watson championing locker room chemistry as the best he’s seen in his career and former All-Star Josh Howard breaking down a wall by choosing Utah, the first time this has happened since Danny Manning a decade ago.

It feels as if the Jazz will stand pat for the first few weeks to see how things develop on a roster that’s among the youngest in the league, but if they don’t make hay relatively early on, when the schedule is at it’s softest, don’t be surprised to see them use a $10.8 million trade exception just acquired from New Jersey for Mehmet Okur, possibly combined with a leftover piece from the Deron Williams trade late last February, as leverage to obtain yet another top talent (very possibly at the point, if Devin Harris’ game continues it’s aloof ways).

Make no mistake, KOC is savvy and Corbin committed. And so are their soldiers.

If you need more convincing, don’t sleep on one of the league’s plus-minus kings, a kid who took a frustrated Crash Wallace to task in the 4th quarter the other night, winning his matchup handily (not sure why Elevator Evans’ name doesn’t show up, but it does when you mouseover his stints). Big things, I tell you. BIG THINGS.

Corbin has a full staff for the first time with old friends and newcomers Sidney Lowe and Mike Sanders joining Jeff Hornacek and Scott Layden as assistants. Everything about this team is new: Their game shape, their attitudes and goals, their coaches and system. It feels unfair to judge this group’s future based on their past.

Let’s Start A Cult About: Kyrylo Fesenko

By Noam Schiller

(Note: Kyrylo Fesenko isn’t actually a member of the Utah Jazz. He is currently an unrestricted free agent, and with the  Jazz roster currently holding approximately 163 big men, it is unlikely that he returns.  However, there is not a player among the NBA community that is more cult-worthy than Kyrylo Fesenko. If you are a Utah Jazz fan and this bothers you, we highly recommend you start a cult about Gordon Hayward, because he has the name of a distinguished British gentleman who likes smoking pipes and talking about the hunt, and yet, at the same time, he has a stunningly gorgeous baby-face and eats at Olive Garden.)

The Kyrylo Fesenko Cult, henceforth known as KFC, was created less as a means of adoration, and more out of necessity.

It’s only a matter of time before Fesenko is the ultimate ruler of the universe and all that it entails. Fes is a gigantic mammoth of a human being, his 7’1”, 280 pound frame easily dwarfing foolish challengers even in a profession where overgrowth is the norm. You are just as likely to score with Kyrylo Fesenko under the basket as you are likely to live with him chasing you down the street, fully intending and fully capable of eating you whole if he so pleases. Sure, he’s horrible offensively, but he can just declare the entire premise of offense illegal once he rules us all with an iron fit.

Of course, size alone does not an ultimate dictator make. And Kyrylo combines his stature with frightening agility and a sharp wit. Second language English aside, Fesenko is as good an interview as anybody in the entire league, and if you see Kyrylo Fesenko preparing to bust a move, run – it will be the last move-busting you will ever see.

The only way we can avoid Ukranian breakdancing doom is by joining the winning side ahead of time. Willingly bow down to Fes, master of everything, and you will be rewarded for your efforts. In fact, The KFC can even help Kyrylo with his conquering of the universe. We’ll get Fes his buckets – the only weakness in his well-rounded arsenal (assuming, of course, you willingly ignore the other ones, which we are) – and he will fill these buckets with the fried remains of his opponents. Win, win, win.

Popular Theories In Emerging Basketball-Cultural Cross-References

by Matt Moore

Does this Jazz season feel like fanfiction to anyone else? Usually fan fiction is written for a time period following the original story arc, in this instance, the Jerry Sloan era. And it usually explores themes which fans wish were more fully fleshed out in the original work, in this instance “What if the Jazz weren’t so concretely married to all of Sloan’s principles?”

And of course, fanfiction’s usually pretty bad. Which the Jazz are going to be.

Additionally, fanfiction will often take to ridiculous characters and concepts. “We have a tall Turkish man who hasn’t played basketball in two years and is supposed to be an impact player!” “Let’s have an army of bigs without one being anything close to a franchise player.” “Let’s sign Josh Howard to a rebuilding team!”

And the Jazz fans are perfect to create fanfiction. At once hyper-intense and hyper-scrutinizing, hopeful while discerning, and a little bit totally insane. Here they can explore the planet “Derrick Favors is a three!” and face down the monster of “Raja Bell and Josh Howard are both on this team for no particular reason.”

It’s a perfectly absurd situation following three decades of totally explainable team constructs. Who’s going to score for this team? Who’s going to defend? Will there be rebounds?
Only hardcore fans will enjoy it, it will not be part of canon, and it will get ugly sometimes.

A Brief Video Interlude

by Amin Vafa

THE PASS

Photo via asia1 on Flickr

Quo Vadimus (Where Are We Going?)

by Andrew Lynch

Who Wants to Start a Cult About…DeJuan Blair

by Sean Highkin

On a roster primarily known at this point for its advanced age, DeJuan Blair is one of the few proven youngsters, and he’s one of the least conventional players in the NBA. Blair is an undersized rebounding machine who fell all the way down to #38 in the 2009 draft because he has no ACLs in either of his knees. Again, a starter on a semi-contender has no ACLs. Stuff like this drives home the fact that professional athletes aren’t of the same species as the rest of us. I tweak my knee and it hurts to walk for three hours. And this dude just has no ACLs and plays pro basketball. And plays it well. That will never not be awesome to me.

A Brief Video Interlude

by Matt Moore

This is pretty much the Spurs, except if at the end Jet Li kicked Murtaugh’s head clean off. The weird part is that there’s a genuine sense of resignation hanging around the Spurs. They keep following it up with public statements about how they’re still competing and can still win. But this has always been a team that deals with reality, versus Boston’s penchant for denial through braggadocio. The Spurs know where they’re at, and are just hoping to get off the toilet before it explodes.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q37xJtuQ24w

Photo via FashionedbyMeg on flickr.

Quo Vadimus (Where Are We Going?)

by Sean Highkin

It’s hard to come up with new thoughts on the immediate future of the Oklahoma City Thunder. On paper, with the Lakers in flux and Mavericks adjusting to the loss of Tyson Chandler, it’s hard to argue that they aren’t the best team in the Western Conference. The supposed conflict between Kevin Durant and Russell Westbrook is probably overblown, as these things tend to be. The supporting cast Sam Presti has placed around his stars is as well-built as any out there. James Harden is poised for a breakout year, Serge Ibaka should continue to improve, and Kendrick Perkins will enter his first full year with the Thunder.

But the reason Presti has been so successful at building the Thunder into a powerhouse is that he’s combined his staff’s eye for talent and value, creativity in trades, and the luxury of having two stars on their rookie deals. That last part isn’t sustainable. Durant is entering the first year of his max extension this season. They have to pay Westbrook next summer, and Harden the next. Ibaka should be in line for a raise as well. All these pay raises are going to start adding up in a couple of years, and then Presti will have a much smaller margin inside which to work to keep them competitive. For now, though, these guys have to be entering the season as the favorite to win the west.

Who Wants to Start a Cult About…Eric Maynor

by Andrew Lynch

How divine is Eric Maynor? He can make me forget about Steve Nash.

I understand the rational arguments for a team tanking and trying to rebuild as quickly as possible, but Nash overrides any functional logic centers in my brain. I don’t want the Suns to trade him; there’s no one they could get in return that would make losing Nash worth it to me, as a fan – other than Eric Maynor.

Like every cult ever, it doesn’t make any sense. Nothing about Maynor’s statistical profile indicates that he’s even a good player; his cumulative stats are appalling, his assist rate is low and he’s an adequate defender at best. But there’s something about EMGB (Eric Maynor Gets Busy, for the uninitiated) that goes beyond all of that. Maybe it’s the change of pace from Russell Westbrook that he represents – Maynor’s USG% last year was almost half of Westbrook’s. Maybe it’s the way in which he fits so well with his teammates when he’s on the floor. I mean, look at these unit +/- numbers! Only one of those units that played more than 25 minutes together got outscored by its opponents.

Or maybe it’s the way Maynor embodies the Thunder as a whole: Fun, relentless, and young. He’s the kind of player that no team wants to depend on, but that every fan can’t help but love. Those who have seen EMGB in action know how awesome he is and worship at this temple. James Harden is our Pope, and the only dress code for worship is a backpack.

Feel differently? Then we’ll burn you at the stake.

The Disgrace

by Scott Leedy

What is there to dislike about the Oklahoma City Thunder? Their star is a quiet, humble, basketball junkie, who literally everyone loves. James Harden has captured the basketball world’s adoration with his ability to grow awe inspiring facial hair, and Russell Westbrook is one of the most powerful and exciting players in the league. They were able to take themselves all the way to the Western Conference Finals last year and are on the short list of legit title contenders for the upcoming season. Coincidentally, the one thing that may keep them from obtaining that coveted O’Brien trophy is also the one thing to hate about this team: their late game execution.

For all of his scoring brilliance Kevin Durant still retains one major weakness. Durant lacks the requisite strength to get himself in an advantageous position late in games. Time and time again we have seen stronger defenders push Durant far away from the basket, out of his comfort zone. This leads Durant to either take a tough, long, contested jumper, or jab stap a few times only to give the ball up to a teammate. Often this teammate is Russell Westbrook, the source of much criticism throughout the 2011 playoffs. Westbrook was admonished for his poor decision making and shot selection late in games, that many believed cost The Thunder wins. However, while Westbrook himself deserves a healthy share of blame, his poor shot selection was often a by product of Durant’s short comings. On top of all this Scott Brooks seems incapable of designing any thing resembling a useful crunch time set. Maybe the answer to all this is more James Harden, or maybe everyone just needs a little more experience. Whatever the solution they need to find it soon, or invest in a wall to bang their heads against. Either will work.

Will You Remember Me? I Will Remember You

by Danny Chau

I don’t remember too much from my eight grade promotion mainly because I didn’t deem it very important. I don’t remember who I sat next to, or what my principal said. I wasn’t graduating. I still had another four years of high school to deal with. But it was a big celebration full of balloons and flowers and parents armed with camcorders and cameras. I didn’t really understand it. My parents weren’t there, and I didn’t expect them to be. They had jobs to do, and again, it just wasn’t a very special occasion to me. My brother graduating high school? Now that was special. That was an event worthy of ditching work and rearranging schedules. This wasn’t. So after it was all over, I weaved around the tripods and families and walked home.

My dad asks me how it all went. I tell him it was a long, drawn out process that could’ve been summed up in a sentence: “You’re going to high school!” But I see my dad’s eyes droop. I sense his sadness.

“I really wish I could’ve been there, son.”

I explain to him that it wasn’t a big deal, that it wasn’t important. He shrugs and says, “Yes, but you are young. Nothing is a ‘big deal’ to you. It is important to me because you are my son. These moments don’t happen more than once. They don’t come back.”

I’m sure Sam Presti has Kevin Durant’s draft night photo somewhere in his office, same with Russell, James, and Serge. It’s important to know where the seeds were planted. And it’s  important to see the progress firsthand, to know what went into the development. Because it makes the present that much sweeter.

This will be Durant’s fifth season, and already, the Oklahoma City Thunder are title contenders, and will continue to be for the foreseeable future. How scary is that sentence? How scary is it to

know that the lurching sense of inevitability to this team is of impending dominance, not impending collapse?

We will remember this year as the year the Thunder get certified, denoting their status as a superpower. It’ll be authenticated, notarized, official. The Western Conference dispersed in ways that haven’t been seen in years. The Lakers, for the first time since the Pau Gasol trade, look vulnerable. The Clippers reached for the stars and landed on them, but will take at least a year to achieve team-wide telepathy. Dallas loaded its roster with intrigue, but lost its stabilizing defensive anchor; the impact of which remains to be seen. The Grizzlies come as they were, with the notable inclusion of their most potent perimeter weapon – but large blows to their reserves could mean the difference if something goes awry. With the West in frenzy, the Thunder stand atop of the conference, already better than their counterparts, yet nowhere near their apex.

In six months, we’ll know how the West was won. We will remember this particular season as yet another stepping stone to what could be a dynastic rule over the Western Conference. This will be the first small market victory in the age of the new CBA, and it’ll have absolutely nothing to do with the systemic changes for “competitive balance.” It was just a man with a plan, a lot of luck, a lot of cunning, and a lot of patience. We’ve all watched this team go from one of the dregs of the league to heirs of the throne. This year – their year – will be one worth preserving.

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The lockout has lifted, we have a season, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) And in the spirit of renewal, our shiny new cadre of writers is putting together previews for all 30 teams in true HP style. From where teams are going to what their disgrace is to explorations of pop culture, we are about to rock, salute us, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) So sit back, relax, and ponder the awesomeness of this fully operational Hardwood Paroxysm 3.0. -Ed.

Image via Al_HikesAZ on Flickr

QUO VADIMUS (WHERE ARE WE GOING?)

by Amin Vafa

Well, Cavs, where are you going? There are three choices here: Up, down, and stasis. Although fanbases tend to enjoy progress (or, “Up”), it is definitely in the best interests of this organization to go down or stay in place. The Cavs will most certainly be in the lottery next season, and although this draft class is said to be deeper than most, the Cavs should do their best to ensure they are picking in the top 5, if not the top 3, since they’ve got some pretty sizable holes to fill on their roster. How do they fill those holes? Well for one, they need to stink. Now, they don’t need to be putrid, but they just need to be bad enough to lose most of their games. Fans don’t want to see their team get embarrassed, but I think a gut-punch loss every now and then would be tolerable as long as there is an inkling of development from Irving and Thompson. If at season’s end the future looks bright with those two AND the team is headed to the lottery, the season will have been a success. Another way they ensure picking in the lottery is ridding themselves of any remaining assets–namely Andersen Varejao. As a Cavs fan, I love Andy. But by the time this team is good again, Andy’s not going to have any value. This offseason saw many teams vying after bigs, but very few teams being fulfilled. Andy needs to be flipped for some cap space, developing studs, draft picks, or any combination thereof. With Jamison’s contract expiring, this team needs to make sure it can pair that space with assets and picks so the Cavs can move forward. And so that Cleveland can move on.

WHO WANTS TO START A CULT ABOUT

Antawn Jamison! (?) Why? Because it’s about damn time people started cults for nice guys. Didn’t you know? Jamison’s a nice guy. He’s a consummate professional, and a real nice guy. He’s nice to everyone in the locker room. And he’s nice to reporters. And he’s nice to fans, and teammates, and opponents. Really nice. Super nice. He’s got this nice scoop shot, and shoots a nice percentage from 3 for a guy who’s a nice 6’9″. But yeah, he’s nice, so wouldn’t it be nice to worship him? So, so nice. So nice, in fact, he has absolutely zero time to play defense.

POPULAR THEORIES IN EMERGING BASKETBALL-RELATED CROSS-CULTURAL REFERENCES

by Amin Vafa

Even though it’s pronounced “Ra-MAHN” not “Ra-MONE,” I would still like to see Sessions walk onto the court like this every night. I mean, he cuts through defenses like a razor to get to the line, and one time I saw him suplex Samardo Samuels (Note: No I didn’t.). So I think the nickname should stick.

A BRIEF VIDEO INTERLUDE: The National’s “Bloodbuzz Ohio”

by Amin Vafa

As far as I’m concerned, this should be playing every time a transaction results in a player going to Cleveland. Draft, trade, free agency, whatever. There is not one person out there who can assure me that Omri Casspi wasn’t carried to Ohio in a swarm of bees, OK?

THE DISGRACE

by Scott Leedy

Cleveland fans can hold on to their contempt and hatred for Lebron James and his departure, but ultimately the black sheep of their beloved organization is its fearless, insolent leader. Dan Gilbert has written or said so many stupid things, it’s hard to keep track. We all remember the infamous comic sans letter that was nothing short of a disgrace. Gilbert was merely making public what should’ve been readily apparent: that he was incapable of running his franchise effectively. Yes, LeBron James is an incredibly difficult personality to manage. Sure, many other owners would’ve have done whatever just to appease “The Chosen One,” that doesn’t mean it wasn’t incredibly foolish and detrimental to the organization’s future. Whether it was Gilbert himself or the people he hired the personnel decisions made by the team were questionable at best. Looking back on it not including JJ Hickson in order to acquire Amar’e Stoudemire, stands as one of the greatest misfires of the past few years. So Cleveland you can still point the finger at LeBron James; I know you will. But honestly ask yourself: Why would anyone want to work for Dan Gilbert?

WILL YOU REMEMBER ME? I WILL REMEMBER YOU.

by Noam Schiller

Cleveland’s LeBron James era had its ups-and-downs, for sure, but it’s over. It has been for a while.  Cleveland’s Kyrie Irving era is on the cusp of beginning, and we have no idea how it turns out. None. Which is always fun.

But in between those two, there was an awkward, pretty horrendous, virtually unprecedented 2010-2011 turn. And while Cavs fans will probably be happy to stash it deep inside the history books, quite a bit happened during that we will probably never, ever see again.

We will never, ever see J.J. Hickson lead an NBA team in total points over the course of an entire year again. We will never see an offense that hangs its head in shame as it once again realizes it has no options other that Samardo Samuels. We will not be seeing Manny Harris, at least not in Cleveland.

Cavs announce they have waived Manny Harris and Kenny Hayes

December 22, 2011 9:21 am via TweetDeckReplyRetweetFavorite

@PDcavsinsider

Reed, Boyer

We will (hopefully) never again see a team’s most efficient offensive player be Ramon Sessions. We will never again see Alonzo Gee start 29 games in an NBA season… though I wish we would. We will never again see a guy like Antawn Jamison blatantly give up on an entire NBA season… unless he stays for another year. We will never Ryan Hollins. Not willingly.

No more 55 point blowouts, no more 26 game losing streaks. No more breakouts by Daniel Gibson, though, who knows with this kid? No more Baron Davis eating his way towards… well, a lot more of that.

I mean not to bring pain, nor to enlighten the faces of Cav fans with the knowledge that this monstrosity is gone. Even a uniquely horrible season is unique, and uniqueness should be revered, if not celebrated. Ideally, when Kyrie Irving leads an upstart Cavs team to playoff achievements three years down the road, 2010-2011 will no longer be a terrifying nightmare, but a whimsy memory, an odd phase that was necessary to kick-start a process of recovery.

Photo by ToniVC from Flickr

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The lockout has lifted, we have a season, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) And in the spirit of renewal, our shiny new cadre of writers is putting together previews for all 30 teams in true HP style. From where teams are going to what their disgrace is to explorations of pop culture, we are about to rock, salute us, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) So sit back, relax, and ponder the awesomeness of this fully operational Hardwood Paroxysm 3.0. -Ed. 

QUO VADIMUS (WHERE ARE WE GOING?)

by Scott Leedy

No one likes to feel irrelevant. Everyone, no matter what their position in life, likes to believe that at least something they do or contribute matters. Unfortunately, thinking does not make it so. Enter the 2011-2012 Boston Celtics. They are used to being important, they are accustomed to contending, hell they probably, no they have to believe they have a chance. That’s how sports work, often delusion and grandeur pay off in unexpectedly terrific ways. Other times they only  serve to inflate and exaggerate waning talents, and deteriorating physical skills.

For the past few years, in the Western Conference there’s been a sort of mantra among basketball experts, “You can never count out the Spurs”. They are experienced, they know how to play, and old teams tend to win in the playoffs. In fact, The Spurs haven’t been true contenders for a while now. We’ve placed too much faith and value into their past success. I will not make the same mistake with the Celtics. Could they contend this year? Sure theoretically it’s possible, but in reality they won’t be able to handle the younger contenders in the East. You can play the experience card but at this point both LeBron and Wade have been around the block enough times. The Heat are hardly the Oklahoma City Thunder.

As Charles Barkley so famously says, “the only one who’s undefeated is father time”. The Celtics were old, injured, and tired last year. Now a year older, a year slower, a even more prone to injury, how can we reasonably expect this team to challenge for a championship? Don’t get me wrong they will still be a very good team. Much like the Spurs they execute, they know how to win, and there’s still a lot of talent on the floor. However, the days of dominance and intimidation have passed. One of the little brothers went and punched big brother in the mouth and big brother can’t recapture the fear.

There’s a not so subtle and all too painful transition from experienced, respected, and dominant to old, tired and dismissed. You can hold, cling, and grasp at your previous accomplishments. You can point to past success as evidence of your current relevancy. But looking back won’t grant you anything moving forward.

Only a year and a half removed from the heartbreaking Finals loss, the Celtics find themselves knocking on the door of irrelevancy. They aren’t really going anywhere. They place they’d like to reach remains outside their grasp, and yet there’s enough ego, enough history, enough previous success to convince themselves otherwise. There’s no shame in being a “has been”; no dishonor in succumbing to the inevitability of age. For The Celtics the future holds no promise. Their time has come and past.

Let’s Start A Cult About: Avery Bradley

by Noam Schiller

You can do this. You know you can do this. You have more talent than these clowns in your fingernail. You can outwit them while numbing your mind in front of reality television. Them? They’re nothing. You’re the best around, nothing’s gonna ever keep you down.

Except, they don’t know that. In fact, they think the opposite. You’re the new kid, and as such, the burden of proof is on your shoulders. It doesn’t matter that their ceiling is 10% of yours, because that 10% has already been achieved. You’re starting from 0, and the higher you project to go, the higher the climb to get there.

You try to ignore that lump in your throat as the judgmental gaze of their well-versed eyes burn against the back of your neck. Let them thing what they want, right? You know your worth. Even if they don’t. But… there’s more of them than there is of you. And they were here first. For quite a while, too. What if they’re right? What if you don’t have it? What if your sense of self-worth is but a product of ignorance and childish delusions or grandeur?

Your confidence is unwavering. Sadly, you can’t say the same for your abilities. Suddenly, versatility becomes a burden, jack-of-all-trades becomes master-of-none. Your eyes try to focus on the goal at hand, but something about the tips of your feet draws them downward. You swear it isn’t shame, it isn’t discomfort, it’s sheer happenstance that you can’t dare to stare at your adversary, but even you are starting to doubt yourself. You try to perk yourself up, but your previously sturdy shoulders are drooping, and before you realize it, you’re begging for a second chance.

Avery Bradley is phenomenal at basketball. He’s better than you. He’s better than me. He’s better than everybody. We all know it, and so does he. It’s no coincidence that the Texas product was ranked number one in his high school class. That’s John Wall territory, punk. You should show some respect.

Should. If only Bradley could demand it.

Because even though he has all of the talent in the world, something just doesn’t fit. The silky shot inexplicably rims out, the rhythmic dribble prefers to take its defining beat out of bounds. Hailed as a combo guard, Bradley has devolved into the worst kind of tweener – the kind that doesn’t fit anywhere not because his skill set doesn’t fit his size, but because his skill set just isn’t there.
Avery Bradley is the last NBA player I’ve seen play in a live game, as he briefly swept through my hometown team of Hapoel Jerusalem in a lockout-induced haze. Overseas, even more than in the NBA, his talent stands orders of magnitude above that of the competition. And yet, even when the 18,000 seat TD Garden was replaced with the 3,000 seat Malcha Arena, Bradley’s shoulders still rested several inches beneath his neckline, and his eyes still revealed the same timid child that can’t live up to the lofty expectations that he himself compares himself to.

It’s not that Bradley is incapable. On the contrary. The ability oozes out of his pores. But the bristled hair that stands on his frightened skin prevents it from manifesting on the court. For every coulda shoulda woulda that we ever experienced, we should be desperately rooting that the 6’3″ athletic specimen vanquishes the 0’0″ demons back to the fiery depths of human psyche hell.

A Brief Video Interlude

by Scott Leedy

So this video is very NSFW. NO SERIOUSLY, THERE ARE NOT BIG ENOUGH NSFW LETTERS FOR HOW HOW NSFW THIS IS.

I hope the relevancy is obvious. I will let the clip speak for itself. Enjoy.

The Disgrace

by Sean Highkin

As of this writing, Jermaine O’Neal is the Celtics’ opening-night starting center. Paul Pierce will likely miss the start of the season with a bruised heel, and Kevin Garnett has battled knee problems in recent years. The Celtics’ projected starters not named Rajon Rondo are an average age of 34.5, which would be a concern in a schedule not compressed to all get-out. The added back-to-backs are a challenge for every team, but no prospective title contender is as likely to feel their full wrath as Boston. Even the Spurs, as old as they are, have enough serviceable young-ish guys to spell Tim Duncan and Manu Ginobili when necessary. Outside of new acquisition Brandon Bass, the Celtics’ depth chart isn’t pretty. When healthy, the Celtics should still be good enough to hang with most teams, but the condensed schedule will make it not just wise but absolutely necessary to give KG and Pierce days off. This means these guys will probably be on the wrong end of more blowouts this season than their on-paper talent would dictate.

Photo from the_amanda via Flickr

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The lockout has lifted, we have a season, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) And in the spirit of renewal, our shiny new cadre of writers is putting together previews for all 30 teams in true HP style. From where teams are going to what their disgrace is to explorations of pop culture, we are about to rock, salute us, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) So sit back, relax, and ponder the awesomeness of this fully operational Hardwood Paroxysm 3.0. -Ed. 

QUO VADIMUS (WHERE ARE WE GOING?)

By Sean Highkin

In the suddenly wide-open Western Conference, the Grizzlies as good a chance as anyone of reaching the Finals. Michael Heisley has finally put his money where his mouth is, paying up big to extend Zach Randolph and re-up Marc Gasol, keeping one of the toughest front lines in the West intact. Rudy Gay, who missed almost half of last season, is back. This team has about three years to capitalize on the situation they’ve put themselves in before the big contracts they’ve handed out turn from necessary expenses to financial albatrosses.

Gay is back, but Darrell Arthur is out for the year with an Achilles injury and Shane Battier left for Miami. Otherwise, though, the team that shocked the top-seeded Spurs in the first round of the 2011 playoffs and came within one game of reaching the Conference Finals is mostly intact. And that may be enough in a conference without a clear favorite. These Grizzlies are the kind of team nobody wants any part of in any series or during any road trip. To use one of Tony Allen’s favorite phrases, they’re a team that grinds. They’ll be physical, they’ll do the dirty work, they’ll find ways to shut you down. The biggest question mark in the rotation currently is O.J. Mayo, who the Grizzlies insist they’re not shopping right now despite almost trading him for Josh McRoberts last week. Off-court struggles and some on-court regression caused him to lose his starting job to Allen last year, and now he must find a way to bounce back amid an uncertain role and persistent trade rumors. The good news for him is that the Grizz’ roster and direction are more set now than they were going into last season, so he’ll get his opportunities to earn back his job.

With Arthur’s injury, the Grizz could stand to add another big man. Former Blazers and Bobcats forward Dante Cunningham signed an offer sheet recently, and by the time you read this he may or may not be officially on this roster. Either way, with Gasol and Randolph locked up and other key rotation players either healthy or poised to improve, this is a team to be scared of.

POPULAR THEORIES IN BASKETBALL-CULTURAL CROSS-REFERENCES

By Danny Chau

Was there life before Tony Allen?

Okay. Dumb question. The Grizzlies were a team on the rise before Allen ever inked his contract two summers ago. They were a game under .500, and the team had a standard framework with standard pieces. They had a big, burly center who was consistent on both ends of the floor. They had an excellent rebounding power forward with strong post play. They had a hyper-athletic archetypal small forward, a gunning shooting guard, and a crafty point guard still learning the position. They had the pieces, but something was missing. They were missing a bit of energy, a bit of imperfection, a bit of crazy.

If there was any criticism for Sam Cooke, it was the saccharine quality of his records. For the father of soul, his records were restrained. He didn’t pull people in with the power of his voice, but in the litheness and vanilla of the songs. But a completely different animal arrived during live performances. And perhaps the greatest gift he left (other than the gift of Soul, of course) after his untimely death in 1964 was his live performance at a club in Miami.

Listen to the first two minutes of the video above. It’s an interlude to “Bring It On Home To Me,” a rendition of one of his earlier hits, “You Send Me,” but only in name. While the original is a quaint, tender song, what he belts out in the interlude is a powerful story of the visceral compulsion.  It’s an unbelievable energy that he creates, a movement that summons not only his inner-most grit, but the audience’s audible adulation. Cooke unleashes his power, but always reins back. It isn’t about losing yourself completely. It’s about finding a balance between order and inspiration and discovering that optimal conditions might not always be right in the middle.

The Grizzlies’ second round series against the Oklahoma City Thunder was their Harlem Square Club performance. It was a nice encapsulation of everything the team was capable of despite adversity and losing the team’s most recognizable star. Now that star is back, but a few other injuries placed at least a touch of doubt in the team’s forecast.

So was “Heart. Grit. Grind.” just a tagline for the Grizzlies’ storybook season last year, or are they ready for it to define their future?

WILL YOU REMEMBER ME, I WILL REMEMBER YOU

By Noam Schiller

Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there lived a young underdog.

The underdog had been ridiculed all its life. It was heckled when they signed Bryant Reeves to a $62 million deal. It was violently dismissed when it amassed a distressing 0-12 record in its first 3 playoff appearances. It was guffawed at when it lost the best player in franchise history for a pack of smokes and a “hope the second rounder we just gave you loses a lot of weight and becomes a top-notch center” Hallmark card.

But the underdog didn’t mind. It enjoyed every second of Shareef Abdur-Rahim, both ends of the Mike Bibby-Jason Williams trade, Pau Gasol with or without the beard. It even loved DeMarre Carroll. Loved him with all its heart. Because it knew, deep down, that one day it will become a contender.

One day, a large-bottomed malcontent came to town. “Look at that underdog”, everybody laughed. “The large-bottomed malcontent couldn’t even make it in New York. Everybody knows that everything is better in New York!” But the underdog loved the large-bottomed malcontent so much. They loved his smooth shooting. They loved his offensive rebounding.  They loved how he couldn’t be stopped in the post, not if he really cared. They loved him so much that he started passing, and he started defending, and the underdog fed him in the post, and he became an all-star.

Then, the underdog signed a crazy free agent. “Look at that underdog!”, everybody howled, “just look at them! Didn’t they watch the crazy free agent in Boston? Didn’t they see him tear an ACL for a garbage time dunk? Don’t they know he can’t even make layups?” But the underdog loved its crazy free agent. They loved his grit, grind and heart so much, that they made t-shirts about him. And the crazy free agent started making layups, and became a Defensive Player of the Year candidate.

Then, the underdog gave a $45 million dollar contract to its left-handed bust. “LOOK AT THAT UNDERDOG!”, everybody bellowed, “look how much money they gave the left-handed bust! Don’t they know that he’s not a good point guard? Can’t they see he’s too small, and he makes too many mistakes on offense, and he can’t score?” But the underdog loved the left-handed bust so much. They loved how fast he was, and they loved how much he cared. And the left-handed bust posted a career high assist rate, and a career low turnover rate, and became a very good basketball player.

The underdog loved all of its players. And the players loved the underdog. And even more importantly, they loved each other. They fought and they hustled and they defended and they got back to the playoffs. And when they faced one of its old bullies, they punked them.

Suddenly, everybody was friends with the underdog. “Hey, underdog!”, they said, “nice job in the playoffs! Can we be friends, now? Can we have your borderline all-star swingman who has come back from injury? Can we have your skilled free agent center? We’re friends, and friends share!”

But the underdog didn’t want to share. It knew the other teams weren’t really friends. They were just scared.. Scared of the unstoppable frontcourt, scared of the defensive intensity, scared of losing to a silly underdog. Scared because the underdog had evolved into a big, beautiful contender.

The big, beautiful contender was about to embark on a journey towards a championship. But just before it went on its way, there was a hint of sadness. The success of a contender is never as fun as the success of an underdog. The contender wasn’t ungrateful – it truly was happy at what it had become. But that 2010-2011 feeling was unlike any other that it will ever feel.

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The lockout has lifted, we have a season, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) And in the spirit of renewal, our shiny new cadre of writers is putting together previews for all 30 teams in true HP style. From where teams are going to what their disgrace is to explorations of pop culture, we are about to rock, salute us, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) So sit back, relax, and ponder the awesomeness of this fully operational Hardwood Paroxysm 3.0. -Ed. 

Photo from Davers via Flickr

Quo Vadimus (Where Are We Going?)

By Noam Schiller

Call me old-fashioned, but I just don’t get reality television.

 It’s not that I’m an angry spinster that derives pleasure from raining in on joyous parades. There are plenty of things that I find entertaining in this world. But filmed, unscripted dysfunction theatrically brought to life through the vessel of self-entitlement that is a Snoochy or a Dauly P or a Ronkie-poodle or whatever current never-ending abyss calls itself? On my list, that ranks slightly below watching paint dry.

It’s not that I’m opposed to people doing incredibly stupid things, either. The innermost depths of failure can be a fascinating thing if presented correctly. The problem with reality television is how it insists on focusing on a group of people with absolutely nothing to offer. Which defeats the entire point. Failure can be fascinating, but only if it involves actual underachieving talent. It’s why the mid-2000s Knicks were fascinating while the 09-10 Nets or the 10-11 Cavs were just sad.

The Sacramento Kings may or may not fail this season. They most certainly will involve quite a bit of dysfunction. But one thing if for sure – you won’t be lamenting a lack of talent.

DeMarcus Cousins has a legitimate claim for most talented player in the league, and anybody claiming otherwise just hasn’t bothered watching him. A 6’11″, 270 frame, a rare combination of soft hands and rugged strength, a monstrous rebounder, a deft passer, and just 21 years old? Ignore the situation going on inside that noggin and tell me where you’ve seen a more complete hypothetical package.

ALL DEMARCUS WANTS TO DO IS LEARN

And DeMarcus isn’t even the best player on the team at this point. Tyreke Evans had him some plantar fasciitis fun last season, sending even the most loyal fans tumbling into a heap of frustration and pessimism. But how easy it is to forget just how good a healthy Evans was just 20 months ago – and he couldn’t even shoot! Sure, you always run the risk of him never actually learning how to shoot, but why would you even think of that? Why are you such a heartless bastard? WHY DO YOU HATE TYREKE EVANS?!

Unless you’re Byron Scott or Monty Williams, you can’t hate Marcus Thornton. 2 years and a new contract in, we should all realize what Marcus Thornton is – a fantastic, dare I say elite scorer, who is probably best suited coming off the bench but should play 30 minutes a night regardless how the game starts. Buckets gets Buckets, and he gets ‘em good.

And it continues down the roster. Jason Thompson may have been the exact same player for 3 years, but that player is a good NBA big man. J.J. Hickson can’t make a defensive rotation to save his life, but his hippity-hoppity brand of ineptitude is, at the very least, entertaining. Isaiah Thomas is not only named Isaiah Thomas, he also just happens to be an explosive 5’8″ shooting guard that isn’t named Nate Robinson. The league can never have enough of those. And The Jimmer. Good lord, The Jimmer. Call it divine intervention, call it freaky coincidence, but never have you seen a 32 footer so smooth. Heck, never have you seen anything so smooth.

The Kings still need the talent they have to work out. But at least they got it, loaded up the good ole Chuckwagon (finally), and are taking it for a ride. It’s just the first, second and third steps in a multiple-step journey towards respectability, but they’ve made multiple steps, and it’s hard to find fault in that.

Popular Theories  in Emerging  Basketball-Cultural Cross-References

by Curtis Harris

I’ve got Boogie Fever. You should, too. Why?

Because Demarcus “Boogie” Cousins is on the roster. The Boogie Man in the middle is a handful for opponents, especially when he hasn’t scuttled his own play with dumb fouls. However, there are other reasons to get the Boogie Fever with the Kings.

There are seven, count ‘em, 7 players on this roster between 6’6″ and 6’9″. Such equity in height hasn’t been achieved since… wouldn’t you know it… 1975 when the Sylvers were singing and dancing their butts off to… wait for it… Boogie Fever.* I hereby petition the Sacramento Kings to make a team video of Tyreke Evans, Francisco Garcia, Tyler Honeycutt and other dapper Kings regally getting down.

*Other boogie songs you should consider playing while watching the Kings: “Boogie Oogie Oogie“, “Blame it on the Boogie“, “Boogie Down“, “Jungle Boogie“, “Boogie on Reggae Woman“, “Boogie Ain’t Nuttin’ (But Gettin’ Down)“, “Aqua Boogie (A Psychoalphadiscobetabioaquadoloop)“, “I’m Your Boogie Man“, “Boogie Shoes“, “Boogie Wonderland” and “Move Your Boogie Body“.

Boogie Nights  the film was considered for discussion, but this is a family blog.

The Disgrace

By Noam Schiller

If you’re trying to develop talent, you need many things. And that environment needs to be monitored by a capable headmaster.

And then you have Paul Westphal.

Let me get this out of the way right off the bat: if the Kings’ youngsters fail to reach their considerable potential, it won’t be because of Westphal. The talent runs too deep for a single man to destroy, and the obstacles that stand in the way are easily apparent regardless of who’s it is running the show from behind the sidelines. It certainly isn’t hard to imagine a guy like DeMarcus Cousins flaming out even with the steadiest hand available showing him the way, and he could just as easily become a perennial MVP candidate even if the only coaching he ever gets is a bunch of Teletubbies standing behind him yelling “again! Again!” after he rips the arms off an unsuspecting defender.

But Paul Westphal is a horrible, horrible start.

His offense is “uhm, guys, we should probably score, K?”. His defense is “remember that thing I told you about scoring when we were on offense? Well, that’s a no-no”. His rotations change nightly, his substitutions random. There is no rhythm, rhyme, or reason – just a big ole “what?” dabbled with “why?”.

If your response to that last paragraph was “isn’t that the exact opposite of an ideal talent-developing system?”, the answer is yes. Consistency, stability, a clearly established and logically plausible grid of Dos and Don’ts – all absent, in the name of Westphal’s Whims. It’s a shame, because he strikes us as a genuinely nice person, but it makes watching what should be a fascinating team a frustrating chore.

You can do it, Paul. Just put the Tyler Honeycutt peg into the Small Forward hole.

Let’s Start A Cult About Really Really Enjoy: Jimmer Fredette

by Connor Huchton

Beyond all of the pointless hype and overwrought criticism, Jimmer Fredette possesses the tools to become a very good NBA player. Most evaluations of what Jimmer can contribute as an NBA player begin and end with his weaknesses (that’s the case with many players), but fail to understand one of Jimmer’s great capabilities: Capitalizing on his own strengths.

What makes Jimmer interesting beyond the boring narrative is what he can do so well: Shoot from anywhere on the floor. But his skills are far from encapsulated by the simple idea of the three-pointer. He can drive and pull up, he’s quick, and he has the depth of experience to know exactly what works for him and what doesn’t. Some of what he relied on may not translate to the NBA directly, but some of it absolutely will. The flashes of skill have been presented in spades during Jimmer’s first two preseason games (16.5 PPG on great shooting numbers), as have his weaknesses.

Jimmer will struggle to finish at the basket in the NBA, and his first step won’t prove as lethal against the league’s incredible athletes. He’ll try and fail to score against numerous matchups, especially in his rookie season. He’ll likely never be a star, though I’m certain jersey sales and endorsement deals may indicate otherwise. While those weaknesses will hinder Jimmer’s ability to become a solid NBA starter, his undervalued passing ability will expedite that process. He’s no longer on a BYU team that demands his every shot, and he’s shown the willingness to alter his game accordinly in two preseason games. The issue isn’t whether Jimmer can pass competently. He has that ability. The question is whether he’ll choose to pass, and early signs indicate he will.

I don’t want to start “a cult” about Jimmer Fredette. That line of thinking has become far too prevalent already. But I do want to be excited about a young, exciting player with quantifiable NBA skills. And that’s what Jimmer is now, once you navigate past the craze and hype. Just an NBA player, and an incredibly fun one to watch play.