httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sh2ZT1aPBoE

You’d think turning from young, emerging hero to frequent villain would take more time. The path to widespread dislike is meant to take longer, a winding trip from years of spotlight and questionable play. But it’s 2012, and over the last four months, Blake Griffin has morphed into a player that often generates fan distaste, angry Lakers’ message board activity, and comments like this from opposing players:

“(Griffin is) in L.A. where actors belong,” Cousins said. “He’s an actor, so of course he would say (that he wasn’t worried about it).”

via Sacramento Bee: On testy night, a foul end for Kings

DeMarcus Cousins isn’t happy with Blake Griffin’s demonstrative, acting ways, and he isn’t alone. Many of you reading this are likely upset or not particularly pleased with Griffin, whether it’s because of his elbow-led dunks or unnecessary stare downs. Maybe you just think he’s a complainer. Griffin certainly hasn’t done much to separate himself from that on the court, and all of those grievances hold some viability. But, aside from the oft-vicious dunks, how does that set Griffin apart from a number of players in the NBA?

Of course, it wasn’t always like this. Before the Clippers played countless games on national television, before the Chris Paul trade, before the team dared to characterize themselves as contenders, back when they were the Clippers of lore, Griffin delighted fans. Only the occasional Clippers’ game was available to a national audience, and Griffin’s dunks and leaps were the only thing that held space in the minds of many fans. He looked to be the best dunker of a generation, capable of terrific production and obscene displays of athleticism. Most of all, Griffin was still young, and as a player, he could only grow. Griffin is still the same player, but perception has shifted 180 degrees. That much became evident on Wednesday night.

What changed? Not much, except attention and the realization of Griffin’s continued determination to establish himself as a physical force. Griffin isn’t a good defensive player, but he seems determined to convince opposing teams that the painted area sits in front of his basket. The retention of that area’s dominance might require the occasional flop, as DeMarcus Cousins alluded to above, or a well-placed push, as Pau Gasol might attest to, but Griffin is willing to make that sacrifice. Whether this display of physical force serves Griffin well is debatable, but it’s something Griffin seems to strive towards, and perhaps something he’s looked to establish since his rookie year. Only now, the cameras are unified and pointed straight at him.

Anyone who has ever competed in a sport has complained about officiating, and NBA players are no different. What sets Griffin apart are his methods. These methods are still hardly to unique to him as a star, but they’ve become an attached stigma to his play. The wild arm raises and gesticulations come to mind, but Griffin’s known complaint trademark comes when he puts both hands on his head and disbelievingly stares forward at an official. Griffin wants outrage to come, and it certainly does from the Clipper faithful, but it’s met overwhelmingly with cries of “acting” and “whining” from other fan bases.

Griffin’s stare, unlike the complaining methods he shares with others, is almost inherently unique to him. He employs a blank visage not only in moments of feigned or genuine frustration with officiating, but occasionally in moments of personal triumph, after one of his signature dunks. Every eye at home and in the arena is directed at Griffin in these moments, and this blank stare meets their piqued interest. Of course, the employment of such a menacing stare does not set Griffin apart. Kevin Garnett has been employing an unnecessary staring habit and a “tough guy” persona for years, and for the most part, it works for him — the growling expression and fierce eye animation seal it. It certainly doesn’t inspire love from opposing fans, but it inspires believability. It’s believable that Garnett is angry and intense in these moments, and he exudes behaviors associated with toughness in a way that’s easily accepted as genuine, if not profound. This same believability cannot be found in Griffin’s stare. He doesn’t appear particularly intense or angry. He doesn’t appear much of anything, only confident and almost daring, as if looking around for someone, anyone to hinder his clear dominance. To those who look for Griffin only in these signature moments, only a haughty, vaguely daunting personality  can be found. But who is Griffin trying to daunt?

As the Clippers have risen to something more than a quiet basketball joke on the wings of Chris Paul and Blake Griffin, people have been forced to take Griffin, key cog on a contending team, with a serious tone that wasn’t present in the past. No longer is he viewed as Blake Griffin: Highlight Machine. Now, Blake Griffin: Basketball Player has to be considered, and with that comes the questions about his defense and his jumper. Blake Griffin is a terrific overall basketball player, but he’s a bad defender with an unpolished offensive game, and with this newfound analytic presence, the perceived invincibility of Griffin’s game falls away. Griffin’s game is both developing and flawed, a recipe for severe criticism when placed in such a constant, gilded spotlight. Everyone now knows what Blake Griffin can’t do, and his on-court persona is only damaged further. If you can’t play strong defense, the tough guy facade begins to lose credence.

All of this isn’t to say Blake Griffin is wholly disliked. He still commands a legion of fans, fans that have every right to like Griffin just as much as those who opine contrastingly. Off the court, Griffin commands likability with ease, starring in Funny or Die videos, appearing in funny national ad campaigns, and staying active and engaging on Twitter. For most people, that’s enough to be well-liked by peers. But Griffin, as a professional basketball player, earns his reputation with many fans on the court. When Griffin brings out his “tough guy ” persona in the arena, a persona quite different from his apparent off-court sensibilities, opinions are bound to shift and sway.

That negative shift is in full tilt in recent weeks, catapulted by Griffin’s questionable antics against the Lakers. Countless basketball fans were subjected to the full range of Griffin’s grating style, as he elbowed Pau Gasol in the face on a dunk (albeit an awe-inspiring dunk) and enacted a light, but dangerous shove to the back of an airborne Laker (Griffin had a similar incident with Darius Morris in January). It’s an unfair microcosm of Griffin, one of the bright, young stars of the NBA, but one that also holds true to how Griffin often conducts himself on the court.

Perhaps Griffin will eventually grow into the Kevin Garnett-type persona he appears to seek. As Griffin changes as a player and improves on his weaknesses, his basketball personality may become more convincing. The pronounced shift in how Griffin is viewed will only grow, but perhaps Blake Griffin doesn’t see that as a detriment. Every NBA player has their on-court personality, and who a player projects themselves to be on the hardwood certainly does not determine who they are in life. Basketball, and all competition, brings out tendencies that do not normally exist in the hearts and minds of people. But for now, Griffin’s behavior only damages his national brand.

The problem is not that Griffin acts so much differently from other stars; it’s that his performance isn’t convincing. Many fans simply don’t believe the message Griffin is attempting to convey, and I’m not sure he believes it either.

(Steve von Horn is a writer at the obscenely good BrewHoop and SBNation. Today he begins a series of playoff previews primed around ye old metrics (COUNT THE RINGZ). He’s got that ol’ HP style and a good mind for TEH METRIX that I thought would fit in nicely here. Welcome him as you would any Bucks fan, with a respectful confusion.- Ed.)

 

The Philadelphia 76ers are the most interesting team in the Eastern Conference playoff bracket, but that’s not necessarily a compliment. They’ve eschewed the superstar model with a quiet gusto, but it has always seemed like a reluctant route in Philly. Early success in the 2011-12 season deadened Andre Iguodala trade deadline rumors for the first time in what feels like forever, but it would be quite a stretch to call him the clear-cut star of a squad led in scoring by its sixth man (Lou Williams) and most famous for its bench (the Night Shift).

It feels wrong to nit-pick a team that has ranked among the top-5 in efficiency differential (pace-adjusted) and margin of victory for the entire season, but there’s a reason Sixers are fading down the stretch. It’s likely the same reason why Philly is 11-18 against +.500 teams and the only team in the league yet to win (a) when their opponent scores 100+ points (0-7) or (b) any game decided by three points or less (0-4). While some might see balanced scoring and superior depth where others lament the absence of a superstar, everyone who takes a hard look at the Sixers has to spend a lot of time thinking about long two-point shots.

The long-two carries all sorts of baggage in NBA analysis, but the most divisive point — that taking long jumpshots is somehow a sign of being ‘soft’ — has no place in this discussion. You should abandon any such connection before reading on. The point being drilled home here is that mid-range jumpshots are among the most inefficient attempts in basketball and represent a serious limiting factor on offensive efficiency. It would be easy to just say ‘a team should ever take long twos’ and turn this story into some self-aggrandizing stand against the two-point jumpshot, but in the real world that class of shot is a necessary part of every NBA offense. Long-twos always happen, so it’s the rate of occurrence that really matters.

The theory behind limiting such shot on offense and forcing more of them on defense isn’t controversial at all. The goal is to turn possessions into points better than the opponent, and because shooting percentages drop the farther you move away from the rim, it makes perfect sense to that a two-point attempt from three feet is inherently a better than a two-point attempt from 15 feet. Both shots are worth the same amount of points, but the longer one goes in a lot less. Distance is the enemy of efficiency right up to the line on the floor where the rules award the offense an extra point for a made basket — the three-point line. To illustrate the logic of the concept, here is a breakdown of league-wide shooting averages from various floor segments normalized using eFG% on threes (information via NBA.com/Stats):

There’s significant collateral damage associated with jump shots as well. First of all, it’s hard to consistently earn free throw attempts, which are supposed to be, at a minimum, the safety net for any offense struggling to find the bottom of net — because defenders rarely foul players that catapult pull ups and spot ups from the perimeter. The second problem is that the in between shots are the least likely to be recovered as an offensive rebound, which further compounds the inefficiency. At the 2012 MIT Sloan Sports Analytics Conference, Rajiv Maheswaran, Yu-Han Chang, Aaron Henehan and Samantha Danesis presented a wonderful research paper on how rebounding is affected by shot location, and Hardwood Paroxysm’s own Jared Dubin summed up the findings like this:

“According to their research, rebounds collected within two feet of the basket have a 40 percent chance of being an offensive rebound. The percentage chance that the rebound will be offensive drops down to 22 percent between 2 and 10 feet from the basket. Once the ball moves farther outside that range, however, the chance that the rebound will be offensive starts to rise back up, passing the 40 percent plateau again when the ball gets 22 to 26 feet from the basket upon being officially rebounded. As detailed by the researchers, this generally aligns with the expectation that most offensive rebounds are grabbed very close to the hoop (such as tip-ins) or are long rebounds.”

The only thing more stunning than the comprehensive weight of this evidence is how it applies to the Sixers. Let me explain.

The Kingdom. Philadelphia’s defense isn’t just good, it’s great. For all the attention paid to Tom Thibodeau on the Chicago Bulls for their defensive prowess, the fact remains that Doug Collins has quietly turned the Sixers into the NBA’s top defense. Nothing about their dominance is hidden in the shadows either. Philly plays the same slow-paced, physical brand of defense as the Bulls (they rank No. 30 and No. 29 in pace, respectively), and can match Chicago in every relevant defensive category.

Without a name-brand premier interior defender to anchor the paint, Philadelphia shuts opposing offenses down. According to Hoopdata.com, they allow the fewest points per contest in the NBA (87.8) and own the top mark in defensive efficiency (94.9 points allowed per 100 possessions) as well. If you’d like to take a look back, they were this good in January, February and March, too.

Here’s how they’ve done it. Andre Iguodala and Jrue Holiday cut off premium angles for penetration with their collective length and quickness, while Elton Brand, Spencer Hawes, Lavoy Allen and (sometimes) Thaddeus Young work hard to push opposing big men off the block and out of the paint on post plays. When these defensive dynamics combine on pick-and-roll plays, the Sixers particularly shine. According to mySynergySports.com, Philadelphia is the fourth-best team in the NBA at defending pick-and-roll ball handlers (0.74 points per possession allowed), and the third-best at shutting down the roll man (0.89 ppp).

The whole defensive system works in harmony, and the network of carefully timely rotations and strategically surrendered soft spots achieves something close to perfection in the points prevention department. Doug Collins opened up to John Finger of CSN Philly about the core tenets of his defensive philosophy in January and he sounded like genius at the time.

“We don’t feel like contested two-point field goals will beat you. At the end of the day you’ll get beat in the paint, you’ll get beat with fast breaks and you’ll get beat behind the three-point line, but we just don’t feel like teams are going to beat you making contested two-point shots,” Collins explained. “Our whole philosophy is to try and make those teams make those shots against us. Sometimes it looks like, ‘Man, that guy is really open. Why didn’t someone rotate to him?’ Well, we’d much rather give a guy a long two rather than rotate over so they can make a pass to a guy for an open three.” 

Collins wasn’t just spouting off coach-speak, because the theory translates well to the court. An average NBA team takes exactly one-third of its shots from the 10-23 foot range, but the Sixers’ defense forces opponents into hoisting a league-high 39.1 percent of shots from that same distance (via Hoopdata.com). Long jumpers mean long odds on long-term success, so to borrow a line from The A-Team, “I love it when a plan comes together.”

The Quicksand. When Doug Collins confidently declares “we don’t feel like contested two-point field goals will beat you,” it sounds sincere. Heck, it even looks sincere if the focus remains on the defensive numbers. Unfortunately for Doug and the 76ers, there are two equally-weighted sides of the coin in basketball.

Philadelphia’s defensive unit would absolutely love to play against their offense. That’s the easiest way to put it. Guess which team takes the highest percentage of shots from the 10-23 foot range on offense. Okay, it’s actually the Charlotte Bobcats at 43.7 percent, but the Philadelphia 76ers devote the second-highest percentage of their offense to long twos (43.4 percent). All of the other collateral trends discussed above follow right in line. They are No. 17 in offensive efficiency, No. 26 in Offensive Rebound Rate and dead last in Free Throw Rate. That’s simply not how a successful playoff team runs its offense.

What are some possible solutions for the Sixers as they prepare for the 2012 NBA Playoffs. Here are a couple suggestions, and they should be treated like energy alternatives to fossil fuel, meaning no single option is the panacea, but every option offers the chance for incremental improvement:

1. Doug Collins should take the time to listen to…himself. Doug’s quote from above lays out the simple blueprint for better success on offense: “At the end of the day you’ll get beat in the paint, you’ll get beat with fast breaks and you’ll get beat behind the three-point line, but we just don’t feel like teams are going to beat you making contested two-point shots.” I wholeheartedly agree.

As Zach Lowe of SI.com has noted, Collins likes to run a popular set called “horns,” where an entry pass to a big man on either elbow initiates the offensive movement while the wings typically set a series of screens along the baseline and beyond the arc. Elton Brand is a nice player, but by consistently putting the ball into his hands along the free throw line extended, the offense is primed to settle for two-point looks more often. Consider this: the only players in the league who have attempted more shots than Elton Brand from 10-15 feet this season are Kobe Bryant and Dirk Nowitzki (via Hoopdata.com).

The problem for Collins is that the primary ball handlers on the perimeter have struggled to produce in traditional pick-and-roll sets. According to mySynergySports.com, Jrue Holiday ranks 27^th in isolation scoring, but just 81^st overall as a pick-and-roll ball handler. Iguodala (102^nd in PnR) and Evan Turner (109^th) suffer from the same deficiency. Lou Williams seems like the perfect man for the job, as he ranks No. 8 overall in the NBA as a pick-and-roll ball handler (0.98 ppp), so perhaps Collins can find the right back-court pairing to get Lou on the court and change the complexion of the offense for the better.

2. Get out in transition more often. In theory, it makes perfect sense for the Sixers to get out into the open floor more often. Holiday, Iguodala, Young, Williams and even Turner are good enough athletes to thrive in transition, and the defense is designed to force long jumpshots that get snagged by the defense at a high rate than any other attempt on the floor. Clean the glass and run! 

The perfect way to bring home the point of this entire article is with the following information (again according to mySynergySports.com) : Holiday, Iguodala, Turner and Williams all rank 112^th or worse in transition efficiency, but even Jrue’s No. 193 mark (1.02 ppp) is still higher than Lou Williams 8^th-overall PnR efficiency (0.98 ppp).

In other words, running more often certainly won’t hurt the offense. It’s not a coincidence that the league’s fastest team — George Karl’s Denver Nuggets — hold elite ranks for points in the paint and offensive efficiency. In fact, the Nuggets have almost made more shots in the restricted area (1162) than the Sixers have even attempted (1209) at the rim (information via NBA.com/Stats).

3.  Get a bit more creative with lineups to avoid overwhelming long-two tendencies. Aside from the suggestion to play Lou Williams more often just to increase his raw volume of pick-and-roll plays, there are a few other small adjustments that can be made.

Looking at three-man combinations among the 30 most-used lineups for the 76ers, it’s apparent that Jodie Meeks needs to be separated from Elton Brand and Jrue Holiday.

Conclusions: A Kingdom On Quicksand. After starting the season 20-10 and jumping out to a big lead Eastern Conference’s Atlantic Division, the Philadelphia 76ers hit the wall and now find themselves in a tight race for the division crown with the Boston Celtics. The Atlantic Division title could mean the difference between a winnable first round matchup against the Indiana Pacers/Atlanta Hawks and a dubious pairing against the Miami Heat/Chicago Bulls. If you get the feeling that the Sixers are sinking, it’s because they are.Maybe Lou Williams creates better opportunities for Meeks beyond the three-point line by breaking down the defense in PnR, or maybe defenders hedge picks differently with Brand and Holiday on the floor and deny Meeks proper openings for premium catch-and-shoot looks, but the key is that Collins could make small tweaks like this one to help the offense get back on track.

They’ve built a kingdom on the long-two point shot, which is something that worked well enough against the bad teams front-loaded into their schedule, but it’s not an effective way to beat quality opponents that are good enough to avoid the shots on offense and talented enough on defense to capitalize on Philly’s systemic mistakes. Keep in mind that Philly is just 11-18 against +.500 teams and 2-19 when trailing after the third quarter.

Undisciplined teams like the Charlotte Bobcats, Washington Wizards and Cleveland Cavaliers are willing patsies in Doug Collins’ defense-oriented plan, but those teams won’t be in the playoff bracket. When compared to the NBA at-large, Philadelphia often looks like the smart team in the room. On most nights, Collins can simply say “we don’t feel like contested two-point field goals will beat you,” and still sound like a genius. However, the landscape is starting to change, and when compared to well-refined teams like the Miami Heat, Chicago Bulls and Orlando Magic, the Sixers are suddenly the dummies taking all of the long twos and sinking into oblivion. They’ve slipped into the quicksand of inefficiency as better teams chip away at their defensive dominance and exploit their offensive addiction to sub-optimal attempts.  We are at the point where everything sounds great, but Philadelphia fans are justified in asking: “where is King Collins when you really need him?”

I’m gonna love you like I’ve never been hurt before
I’m gonna love you like I’m indestructible.

—Robyn

Maybe now isn’t the best time to talk about this. Maybe you’re a Thunder fan—a team that’s hitting on all cylinders—or a Bulls fan—a team that’s hanging tough without their best player. And if there actually are Miami fans, maybe you feel pretty all right about everything, even if March wasn’t the best month for the Heat. The thing about you guys is your relationships with your favorite basketball team are fine. But what about the others? Those whose team is—whisper it—tanking. Or something worse.

For fans of teams that aren’t going to see the playoffs this year, your offseason is closer than you probably realize. There have been such an embarrassment of riches, at least in terms of game-density, this season that you may not have realized there are only a dozen or so games to go. And then what? Sure, maybe you get caught up in following a team through the playoffs. Or maybe you just root against the Heat or the Lakers. That will sustain you for a while.

Then it’s the lottery. And the draft. And Summer League. And all the other stuff you do to make yourself forget about the last awful season. Maybe you even watch baseball. But hopefully it doesn’t come to that. Hopefully you play some pick-up, talk with your friends, talk yourself into your team’s mid-first round draft pick, talk up the restricted free agents your team might be able to steal away.

But deep down, nothing’s changed. Not at first, not when the wounds of the previous season are still too fresh. Maybe your roster was riddled with injuries, maybe it was gutted at the trade deadline, maybe it wasn’t all that great to begin with. Looking back from the future at today, maybe it’s only then you know that this day was the day when you saw it written on your heart, in a place no stat or highlight can reach: This team is broken.

Strange, though, how acceptance gives way to hope again. Maybe it’s not until late summer, but soon enough, you’re actually looking forward to seeing your team play again. You’ve talked yourself into whatever acquisitions they’ve made, you’ve looked around at the teams that did win their divisions, that made it to the Conference Finals, and you’ve said, “Hey, they’re getting older; maybe it’s our time.”

When the season begins, the team wins a few games. Suddenly, people are coming out of the woodwork, wanting to talk about them, saying things that are ill-informed, things you nod at because it’s nice to have company. But you know. You know because you’ve been down since day one and when the team starts to slip, you stick with them. Maybe they slip all the way back down to the cellar. Or maybe it’s just a rough patch. Maybe they pull it together, make a run, upset someone in the first round, until one fine day …

This is what it means to love. It means walking with eyes wide open into the furious tangled arms of the season, wading into the river neck deep and knowing all the time that somewhere the bottom gives out. And you tell yourself, not just once, but time and again: none of this should matter. Not like it does, but it does. Because you know: if you don’t go all in, if you don’t love each year’s team like you’ve never been hurt before, you cheapen it.

This is hardcore: and you’re indestructible.