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How Do Two Teams Combine For Four Points In Overtime? Ask Atlanta And Utah

Photo by 7-how-7 on Flickr

 

The NBA’s first four-overtime game since 1997 combined with the Jazz’s uncharacteristically poor shooting produced a rarity: Utah missed 77 shots from the field (49-for-126, 39%) in a 139-133 loss at Atlanta. That was the highest single-game total in an NBA game since 1993, and it was the most ever by the Jazz and the highest total against the Hawks since the Suns implausibly missed 90 shots in a 48-minute game at Atlanta in 1971 (38-for-128, 30%).

via Elias Says…, 3/26/12

That’s a lot of misses in one night. And while I’m not here to rag on the Hawks, playing their third game in three nights, or the Jazz, playing their third in four, I would like to share what happened in the futile first of four overtimes last night.

Yeah, that’s a combined 2-for-16 from the field. Four points. FOUR. Apparently that’s only the second-worst overtime total in NBA history. I blame the stupid schedule.

Entering The Demilitarized Zone

It’s better to be terrible than mediocre. That’s what pretty much anybody who follows the NBA will tell you about rebuilding a team. Hanging around at the fringe of the playoffs for a couple of years can set your franchise back for many more to come. A team that has some decent pieces, but not enough to feasibly compete in the near future can easily find itself in this kind of “NBA purgatory”. You do not want to end up in a situation where you narrowly miss the playoffs, have the 13th or 14th pick in the draft, and then miss out on any potential superstars. It’s inevitable, however, that some teams will find themselves in this situation every year. The solution to this problem is easy, really…

(explosion sounds)

Tanking.

I’m not so concerned with the idea that the lottery somehow needs to be fixed to avoid tanking. Instead, I prefer to focus on the system that is currently in place. As it stands now, you’ve got a weighted lottery and the worse your team is, the better chance you have at jumping into the top three picks. Therefore, once you’ve recognized that the team is unable to actually compete, tanking for a better draft pick is probably the best strategy. It’s easy to say that as someone simply observing from the outside, but how many fans really want to get on board with that idea? Obviously, fans want what is best for their team –but does that include rooting for losses in order to improve draft position?

I don’t mean to always bring the Cavaliers into it, but they are one of the teams currently dealing with this exact situation and it can be applied to several teams across the league. At the trade deadline, the Cavs were a handful of games out of the 8th seed in the Eastern Conference (despite being several games below .500). At that point, you’ve got a decision to make: gun for that last playoff spot or liquidize assets and build for the longterm. It’s fairly apparent that they decided upon the latter (trading away Ramon Sessions, simply attempting to acquire draft picks instead of current players, etc.). In my opinion, that was the correct move. It’s important for the front office to identify the fact that the current core is not adequate as currently composed. The Cavs are still a couple of impact pieces away from having a solid core to build around and eventually make a run at the postseason. Unfortunately once you make that realization, there’s still 30 games left to be played in the season. Now what?

So you’re a fan of a team that isn’t going to make the playoffs or even if they do make the playoffs, they will likely be the victims of a demoralizing beatdown — what do you do? When they think with their brains, most NBA fans know that it’s beneficial for their team to be as bad as possible, get a better draft pick, and then build around that young core of players. However, many fans do not think with their brains, they think with their hearts. How do you go from passionately rooting for a team every night to hoping that they lose just to acquire more ping-pong balls in the lottery? In short (and I’m speaking from experience), you don’t. When I sit down to watch my favorite team play, I’m watching and reacting as if I want them to win. Every night. And this is despite the fact that I know all too well that losing and getting better lottery odds is what’s truly best for the franchise. When the Cavs aren’t playing, I’m anxiously watching the scoreboard of the teams surrounding Cleveland at the bottom of the standings, hoping that they’ll pull off a win and jump the Cavs. After the Cavs lose, I’m understandably bummed out, as any fan would be when their team loses. After about 10 minutes or so, I remember: damn, that was a good loss.

It’s easily one of the most uncomfortable and peculiar feelings for a fan. It feels morally wrong to be rooting against your team. You’ve got that little part of you that’s saying, man, if only we got into the playoffs, we could really up our game and give Chicago a scare. How do you sit there and watch you team actively blowout the existing roster in order to completely tank the remainder of the season, as the Blazers recently did? You’ve got Warriors fans booing their owner because he traded away a fan favorite, with the team’s best long-term interests in mind. Ultimately, I’ve come to deal with it by basically playing two roles. Most of the time, I’m working as an armchair general manager. When my team isn’t playing, I’m reading scouting reports and hoping that they can lose just a few more games to move up and grab this prospect — it’s all-out tank mode. Once my team takes the court, however, we’ve entered the demilitarized zone. I want to win — no tanks allowed.

Tim Duncan Receives A “Did Not Dress – Old”

All right, we all know that Spurs coach Gregg Popovich is a master at getting his guys plenty of rest during the regular season, so they’re primed and ready for the playoffs. And San Antonio was on the last night of a back-to-back-to-back tonight, which meant that Tim Duncan, the Ageless Wonder, probably wasn’t going to play against the Sixers. In fact, Popovich said as much last night before the Spurs’ game against the Hornets.

It was no surprise, then to see Duncan dressed dapperly on the sidelines of a 93-76 Spurs victory. He even got slightly involved in the game action, garnering a technical foul — impressive for a player who would go on to receive a “Did Not Dress – Old” according to NBA.com.

Gary Neal's entry isn't nearly as captivating.

That’s how you’re going to do one of your top players ever, NBA? You’re just going to make fun of poor old Tim Duncan on the same night that you assign Joey Crawford to one of Duncan’s games and he once again gets a tech without even being on the floor?

I’d like to say that’s not cool, but it’s actually pretty hilarious. As a Suns fan, I’ll take any opportunity to laugh at the guy who did this.

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jiqxO6NLMms

The 1962 Season: Philly vs. Boston, Wilt vs. Russell, Barstools vs. Jungle Jim

Bettmann/CORBIS

 

THE SETUP

Oh, I’m sure everyone’s familiar with mythical aura of Wilt vs. Russell, but let’s take a crash course lesson on the Boston Celtics vs. the Philadelphia Warriors, which was one of the great rivalries of the early NBA.

Philadelphia in 1956 had captured the NBA title behind the Hall of Fame trio of Neil Johnston, Paul Arizin, and Tom Gola. Johnston in 1953 had succeeded George Mikan as the pre-eminent NBA center. For 5 straight seasons (1953-1957) Johnston led the NBA in win shares and had a PER above 25.0 while also capturing 3 scoring titles, 3 FG% crowns and led the league in rebounding once.

Then along came Bill Russell in 1957.

Continue Reading…

Look! A Bunch of Old and Goofy Basketball Cards!

I’m tired, my brain is weary. So instead of subjecting you to 500 words of maybe coherent rubbish, here’s a bunch of basketball cards from my private collection that are just awesome, or bad, or both.

THE AWESOME ROOKIE CARDS OF THE 1996 DRAFT CLASS

Yes, that’s the one and only Stephon Marbury with that one and only part going down the center of his head. According to the description on the reverse of the card, Marbury was the “solid point guard [who] could make [Minnesota's] rebuilding process take a giant step toward completion.” Turns out it was a giant step toward disaster. Good thing they traded Ray Allen for Starbury on draft night. Amirite?

This is about as affectionate Kobe has ever been with anything. And lest you think the straight-out-of-high-school phenom was lacking in credentials to join the NBA, he was the all-time leading scorer in Southeastern Pennsylvania basketball history. Upper Deck really knew how to hunt down facts.

Continue Reading…

The Boris Diaw Project

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6KkrccHEAqg

“Free agent Boris Diaw has reached agreement on a deal with the San Antonio Spurs, league sources told Yahoo! Sports.

Diaw agreed to a buyout with the Charlotte Bobcats on Wednesday and cleared waivers Friday afternoon. The Spurs will sign Diaw for the remainder of the season.”

via Yahoo! Sports: Boris Diaw, Spurs reach deal

There was a moment early in the season in which I allowed the thought of a Boris Diaw rejuvenation to cross my mind. The delusion didn’t take long to set in; three strong performances and I had already convinced myself it was 2005, and the Suns still had a chance at a championship. Those were simpler times, when the 2011-2012 Bobcats didn’t seem like a historically bad team, and Byron Mullens fandom reigned supreme. But reality quickly returned, and Diaw’s struggles mounted.

And now the Spurs have signed Boris Diaw, and I’m not sure what to make of it. As the editor of a Bobcats’ blog (mercifully, I’m not a full-fledged fan of the team), I’ve watched Boris Diaw meander around the court without clear purpose for multiple years, and seen the displeasure of Bobcats’ fans grow and grow with every deferred attack and display of perimeter passivity. At times, Diaw has served as the team’s best player, and in other moments disappeared completely. Those tendencies have reached full tilt this season, as Diaw’s PER and shooting numbers have plummeted in conjunction with the Bobcats’ record. Diaw’s renaissance was short-lived, and his continued declining play isn’t particularly surprising. In a vacuum, it appears unlikely that Diaw is deserving of cracking a contending team’s rotation, let alone capable of making a sizable impact.

Years ago, Boris Diaw was one of the league’s best role players. He passed well, scored efficiently, and seamlessly fit into a high-functioning Suns’ offense. Those days and athletic tendencies are things of the past for Diaw, but he now rejoins an offense with both rhythm and impeccable talent. Diaw will likely compete with Matt Bonner for minutes, but it’s difficult to understand what Diaw will add to the Spurs that Bonner or other Spurs’ players don’t already provide. Diaw is famed for his passing, but his turnover rate has risen significantly this season (as has his assist rate, to be fair). He was never an elite defender, but he’s become considerably worse in that respect in recent years. One might say an active show of help defense from Diaw has become rarer than a unicorn sighting. Diaw has scored relatively efficiently and at a starter’s rate in the past, but he’s shot 41% from the field this season and 27% from three, all while scoring at the second lowest per-36 minute rate of his career despite playing for a team desperate for a scorer. The opportunities to be offensively effective aren’t going to suddenly increase for Diaw on the Spurs. If anything, he’ll become a less integral part of offensive flow.

But perhaps with changed expectations, a new landscape, and with added motivation hypothetically existent, Diaw will be able to give the Spurs occasional quality minutes. Even in his deepest production valleys, Diaw hasn’t appeared devoid of talent. He’s retained some quantity of skills, including his aforementioned passing. At his best, he’s able to record near triple-double numbers and control games for stretches. Under the keen tutelage of Gregg Popovich, a coach with a proven ability to maximize the ability of aging role players, Diaw may very well regain some form of viability, and experience a 2011 Peja Stojakovic-type renaissance. But the offensive additions of Diaw seem less than pertinent to the Spurs’ needs. The Spurs already have one of the best offenses in the league, but the same can’t be said for the team’s defense, which has hovered around league-average all season. In this respect, there is very little Diaw is capable of adding, other than the occasional, surprising block.

Despite all of this speculation and contemplation, the question remains in the minds of many: Does Boris Diaw truly care anymore? Many believe he didn’t during most of his time with the Bobcats, but the same can be said of a plethora of players on historically bad teams. Maybe the Riverwalk of San Antonio and the poignant stares of Tim Duncan will rejuvenate the basketball movements of Boris Diaw, and he’ll earn himself one last NBA contract with a key stretch of play or two in a playoff series. Or was the Boris Diaw Experience in Charlotte simply indicative of a player’s abilities slowly fading, and not a testament to a lack of trying? Sometimes, stagnation is an excuse to mask talent diffusion.

In any case, Boris Diaw will have another chance to restore credibility to his basketball name. With an ample opportunity to contribute on a playoff team once again before Diaw, perhaps we’ll finally learn whether the complaints of Bobcats’ fans were buried in truth.

This Is Indiana

“Co-dy Zel-ler!” was the thunderous chant that rained down from the 2,000-plus strong crowd at Kilroy’s Sports Bar in Bloomington, Indiana. Zeller – the younger brother of Tyler and Luke of North Carolina and Notre Dame fame – carried the Indiana Hoosiers on his slight, 19-year old shoulders all year. The freshman savior’s face was getting the zoom-in treatment on every television in the house, and the raucous Hoosier nation was showering him with love. So, “Co-dy Zel-ler!” went the chant, and it was about as loud as it could have possibly been. You would have thought it was the middle of an intense game, but it was still 7:00 PM Eastern, about two hours and 45 minutes before the (scheduled) start of Indiana’s highly anticipated match-up with the hated University of Kentucky in the Sweet 16.

My younger brother is a senior at Indiana University and he’s been waiting for me to visit him since he was a freshman. Little did either of us know when I booked this trip two months ago that I’d be in Bloomington for the biggest Hoosier game in a half decade. The program had been floundering since the sudden departure of former head coach Kelvin Sampson due to recruiting violations, but new steward Tom Crean’s bunch had exceeded even the wildest expectations this season. Moderate improvement and a possible NIT berth was a reasonable projection for the Hoosiers this year, but Zeller – along with juniors Christian Watford and Jordan Hulls, sophomores Will Sheehey and Victor Oladipo and seniors Matt Roth, Tom Pritchard and the since-injured Verdell Jones III – carried the team to unexpected heights.

Indiana’s shocking and dramatic one point victory over the Wildcats earlier in the season gave the Hoosier faithful an unusual amount of confidence heading into their tilt with the nation’s best college basketball team. “Cody is gonna murder AD again tonight,” a random, drunk bar-goer screamed in my general direction about an hour before tip-off. Exaggerated euphemism aside, his statement did provide a window into what was undoubtedly seen as the key match-up in this game: Zeller against the presumptive number one overall pick in the NBA Draft, UK freshman phenom Anthony Davis.

In their previous meeting, Zeller and the Hoosiers got Davis in early foul trouble and he was limited to just 24 minutes of playing time. His absence opened up the middle of the lane for Hulls and Jones to penetrate, which drew defenders, which opened up easy baskets for Zeller at the hoop and Watford and Sheehey behind the 3-point line. Indiana was leading for most of the evening, but they fell behind with about two minutes to go. Free throw problems down the stretch for Kentucky gave the Hoosiers an opportunity to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, and Watford responded with what has already become one of the most iconic shots in the history of college basketball.

[flash http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WqG7eSRAyfg]

When I got to my brother’s house in Bloomington yesterday afternoon, tornado warnings started crawling across the bottom of the television screen. The mix of 70-plus degree temperature and incoming storm clouds threatened to bring disastrous weather. Then it started hailing. Swirling winds, thunder, lightning, balls of ice and a cable blackout were staples of my first hour in B-Town, as they call it. The consensus among the group that had gathered at my brother’s house before we left for the game was that the storm was a good omen for the Hoosiers. The cable blackout, however, was considered bad news. “If we can’t watch, we won’t win,” one of them said.

There was concern that the bar might have lost cable as well, but those fears were quelled immediately when we pulled up to Kilroy’s and were greeted by the boisterous chanting I described earlier. The bar was playing the Baylor game, but no one there could concentrate on or talk about anything but the one that would follow it on the same court. About ten minutes before tip-off, “FUCK KEN-TUC-KY!” was the new chant of choice.

As usual, Zeller set the tone early on in the game for the Hoosiers. While Terence Jones and Marquis Teague got Kentucky off to a hot start, Zeller scored three times and assisted on two baskets to keep Indiana in it. When Davis collected his second foul just 5:54 into the game, meaning he was likely out for most of the rest of the first half, the confidence of the crew at the bar was sky high. ”Got him in foul trouble early. Just like last time. Now Cody has to just take over,” said our random, drunk bar-goer who earlier in the evening had informed me of the future murder of Davis by Zeller. Indiana was within three points and Oladipo was heading to the line for two. He hit both, and the crowd started perking up. “HOO! HOO! HOO! HOO-SIERS!” chants rained down all around me.

AD in foul trouble. This is how IU won the first game. People are going nuts here.
@JADubin5
Jared Dubin

But the celebratory atmosphere didn’t last very long. Zeller picked up two quick fouls of his own and it became a whole new ballgame. Just a freshman, Zeller is still by far the best and most important player on the Hoosiers, and there’s an audible groan when he has to leave the court. “We’re in trouble now.” Another person standing with us points out what’s painfully obvious to everyone in the bar.

Kentucky went on a 15-7 run after Zeller hit the bench. Terence Jones and Darius Miller were getting wherever they wanted on the court and Indiana’s offense looked stagnant without it’s anchor. Michael Kidd-Gilchrist was grabbing every rebound available. Oladipo was gamely driving to the hoop on every possession, but without Zeller on the floor, Kentucky’s defense collapsed around Oladipo. At this point, the natives were getting restless. “Shit. Now you have to bring Cody back in with two fouls, and if he gets a third, we’re pretty much done.”

But the Hoosiers hung around. Zeller’s re-entry into the game opened up the court for Indiana, especially for Watford, the hero of the previous IU-UK game. He made a lay-up and consecutive jumpers, the latter a 3-pointer to tie the game at 37-37.

I couldn’t even hear the people next to me over the roars of the crowd at this point. After Hulls made a jumper, Watford scored the Hoosiers’ last eight points to keep them within three at 50-47 heading into halftime. While Davis’ early absence in the previous game gave Indiana an opportunity to race out to a sizable lead, Zeller’s early foul trouble this time around gave them a big hole to work their way out of. Indiana was lucky to be as close at they were at the half, especially with how bad their defense had been. For the first time all season, they had allowed 50 points in the first half.

The mood at halftime was mixed. Most of the people I was with considered it a lucky break that they were able to cut the lead back to three after falling behind early on, but they were also disappointed that the team didn’t capitalize on Davis’ absence. That feeling was amplified when Kentucky stretched their lead to back to eight points in the early moments of the second half.

This game could get out of hand really quickly if IU doesn't get control right now.
@JADubin5
Jared Dubin

A Jordan Hulls 3-pointer cut the lead to 5, but that’s the closest the Hoosiers would get for the rest of the evening. Kentucky’s lead vacillated between 6 and 12 points throughout, but it never really felt like Indiana was seriously challenging them. It was a period of long, slow acceptance of defeat. The crowd at the bar collectively went through all seven stages of grief in about half an hour.

It got eerily quiet toward the end of the game, as everyone around me slowly accepted that their magical, underdog season was coming to an end.

Faint cheers now, but we know it's all over.
@JADubin5
Jared Dubin

As we walked the streets of Bloomington after the loss, you could hear random passers by discussing the game, the team and – already – the next season. ”Cody’s definitely coming back. And with the guys we have coming in, we can win the Big Ten,” one said. “We’re taking down the National Championship,” opined one particularly optimistic student.

Me: "As good of a season as you could have asked for." My brother: "Better. Thank you for making my senior year relevant, boys.l
@JADubin5
Jared Dubin

My brother’s freshman through junior year coincided with just about the worst three years of Indiana basketball in the history of the school. The school’s all-time winning percentage is .661, but they went 38-66 in his first three years in college: a .365 winning percentage. This year, he got to see home victories against Kentucky (#1 at the time), Ohio State (#2), Michigan (#13), and Michigan State (#5). They hadn’t beaten a top 15 opponent since February 19, 2008, when they beat #15 Purdue at home. My brother was still in high school.

A team that had been picked by many to finish in the bottom half of the Big Ten won 27 games and went to the Sweet 16, where they lost to the consensus best team in the country. It was the school’s first NCAA Tournament berth since my junior year in college (2008) and their first trip to the Sweet 16 since 2002 when they lost to Maryland in the National Championship.

By all accounts, it was the most successful season they’ve had in the last decade, by far. After years of misery, they were finally relevant again. They were officially on their way back. But nobody was satisfied with that. I asked one of the last few stragglers with us last night why.

His response: “This is Indiana. We should beat everybody.”

JaVale McGee’s Quest For Salvation Begins On The Right Foot

Photo from Freewill Photography+ via Flickr

Wednesday night marked a lot of first times for JaVale McGee.

It was the first time that JaVale donned an NBA jersey that didn’t belong to the Washington Wizards. It was the first time in his career that he made a shot to give his team the lead with less than a minute to go. As one can naturally conclude from that previous sentence, it was the first time he made a game winning shot. Even if that game winner was a tip-in dunk, which hardly qualifies for the NBA fan’s current perverted definition of clutch (now, if JaVale isolated on the left block and knocked down a fadeaway 21 footer…), it was a game winning shot from JaVale McGee, which is just as crazy as it sounds.

Even crazier, though? The play that sent your new Denver McNuggets above the Detroit Pistons for the final time that night, though, was the opposite of crazy. It was fundamentally sound, athletically mind-boggling, and involved a remarkable amount of on-the-fly thinking. If the second of those traits has defined McGee’s career to date, his lacking in the other two have been, almost 4 years in, his greatest weakness and the presumed reason for his eventual downfall.

You’ve probably seen the play already, but if not, let’s break it down:

[flash http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5j4c3IQOrgA]

There are three major parts to this play:

  • McGee obliterates Greg Monroe’s attempt at a box out. Piston eyed glasses might point out that McGee seems to be using an arm to pull Monroe outward; while to these eyes it seems more like a cunning chair-pulling play, it’s hard to argue that McGee did a smart thing here. Monroe is not an elite athlete, but he most certainly is an elite defensive rebounder, picking up 24% of all available defensive caroms precisely because he knows where to be and how to prevent his man from getting there first. McGee uses Monroe’s strength against him, sending him toppling while clearing a path to the rim.
  • With the ball off the rim but clearly still within the cylinder, McGee waits. This is an incredibly savvy play, one that we’d expect from the Nick Collisons and Shane Battiers of the world, certainly not from He Who Has Made Goaltending An Art. Patience? Awareness? Playing by the rules? Apparently, yes.
  • Somehow, McGee is still in the air when the ball finally comes out of the cylinder and within a rebounder’s grasp. Unlike the previous comment, this is a very McGeeian quality. His unique combination of huge, hops and hangtime is what makes this play happen, as well as the reason he was a valid NBA prospect in the first place.

McGee’s game winner was impressive, no doubt, and it came during a debut that saw him post 15 points, 7 boards and 3 blocks in just 24 minutes. There was plenty more to be pleased with, from McGee’s seemingly instant chemistry with Andre Miller (which should hardly be a surprise, seeing how Miller has been dishing big men perfect lobs and overblown contract extensions for 13 years now) to his activity on defense.

Of course, it’s important to temper expectations. Those big numbers may have come in few minutes, but the minutes were limited mostly because McGee had 5 fouls on the night. The alley-oops were impressive, but he also missed a dunk attempt that a smart player never would have attempted. Yes, he ran a lot on defense and was very willing to contest shots out on the perimeter, but he’s been over-eager to do so his whole career, and the results over 3 and a half seasons were far less encouraging than a small Wednesday sample size. There is still quite a bit Vale has to do to convince us that he can work out in the NBA, let alone demand 14 million a year, as he reportedly has. A singular brilliant play is no match to a cascade of bloopers and .GIF files.

And yet, one can’t help but get excited. Despite the binary nature of sports coverage, being a knucklehead is not a binary quality – it is dependent on your coach’s ability to deal with you, on your teammates’ ability to react around you, on how you fit with your city and your surroundings (just look at Los Angeles Lamar Odom and Dallas Lamar Odom), and billions of other factors. And it’s not hard to see how Denver beats Washington in many of these factors.

Factors like Miller’s ability to work his center. Or Kenneth Faried, Kosta Koufos and Chris Andersen combining with McGee to give Denver 4 of the league’s top offensive rebounders (the only other team with 3, by the way? Chicago, with Noah-Gibson-Asik). Or Denver’s ability to offset the bad McGee nights with their depth while riding the good McGee nights.

More than anything, McGee is an ideological fit. Last season, when the Melo-less Nugs were taking the league by storm with an inexplicably stout defense, Beckley Mason compared them to the George Karl SuperSonics of the mid-90s, saying this:

My basketball proto-memories are of that SuperSonics team flying around the court in an organized chaos, tips, deflections and viscous traps inevitably leading to a thunderous Payton to Kemp alley-oop. The Sonics took it to the competition with an aggressive, hectic style that could only be described as badass. We knew anyone coming into our house was going to have to play our way, think of it as the defensive incarnation of the Suns 7 seconds or less offense.

via The last time George Karl had a killer defense… « HoopSpeak.com.

I immediately thought back to this paragraph the moment McGee was acquired. Organized Chaos. If there is a better two word description for your ideal McGee system, I have yet to find it. After all, McGee thrives in the chaotic realms – when you are longer and faster and can jump higher than everybody else, you yearn for anarchy – but crumbles without a system, his young and impressionable brand of insanity like a lost bird in the hands of an exasperated Flip Saunders or an overmatched Randy Wittman. The physical specimen benefits from a game where rules and order are thrown out the window, but the mentally fragile needs a secondary set of rules to maintain a working environment.

In Karl, McGee finds both a coach willing to unleash his raw, unadulterated physical skills while at the same time telling him exactly how to. Which leads to plays such as we saw Wednesday night, and hopefully, much more.

La Respuesta

Photo by Caro's Lines on Flickr

The news that Allen Iverson has agreed to play for Pablo Nuevo in the Dominican Republic for a month didn’t come as a shock because Iverson has always been the kind of player whose heart pumped molten, pebbly orange rubber, a player who would keep playing until his body could no longer sustain him, and then play some more. He’s a competitor in the mold of Michael Jordan, Kobe Bryant, or Kevin Garnett—guys whose only satisfaction comes from competition. A former NBA superstar signing on as a one-month mercenary in a small foreign league will no doubt be seen by some as sad or desperate, a reminder of the long, slow fade of players like Dominique Wilkins.

But I can’t think of it like that because Iverson was in many ways the player who set me on the path to loving basketball. He’s my radioactive spider, my government-replacing-my-skeleton-with-adamantium, my parents-getting-killed-in-an-alley-robbery. He’s my origin story.

In the summer of 1999 I was living in New York City, but spending most of my weekends in the Berkshires in Massachusetts playing shows with my band. While up there, I would stay with the other guitarist/singer and he introduced me to the joy of NHL Faceoff ‘99 for the PlayStation. I knew absolutely nothing about hockey, but became infatuated with it over a summer spent pulling off one-timers and slapshots with the Dallas Stars. But ever since high school, when I’d adopted the Atlanta Hawks and Dominique Wilkins because they showed their games on TNT all the time, I’d considered basketball sort of my sport, even though I barely followed it.

That fall, along with a move back to Massachusetts came a Sega Dreamcast and NBA2K. It’s borderline hilarious to look at the game now and consider how cutting edge it seemed then. Just look at the ridiculously buff Kobe Bryant in this clip at about 4:22:

But Iverson was the cover athlete and the game was unmistakably his, what with his ability to shake defenders and slither to the hoop. I played as his Sixers most of the time and had no idea who any of the other players even were, outside of the fact that Larry Hughes looked like Iverson and Matt Geiger looked like a nightmare. And so as I learned the game via the Dreamcast, I started following the Sixers in real life. In the same way that Dominique Wilkins had captured my attention with his larger than life dunks years before, Iverson captured it with his array of crossovers and hesitation dribbles. It was a way of playing basketball I was completely unfamiliar with and everything about Iverson, from his cornrows to his tattoos, said he was a new kind of player. He also might have been the last with a truly great nickname.

When “The Answer” took the Sixers to the NBA Finals the next year against the Lakers, he did it with people saying he was killing his team by taking too many shots, that he was a selfish player, that he couldn’t make other players better. But with hindsight, it’s possible to see that Iverson may have been the first player to make his teammates better by not getting them involved. How else can you explain a Finals run with this team? When your second leading scorer is Theo Ratliff, when Dikembe Mutombo at a conservative 34 years of age is anchoring the middle, when your team relies heavily on contributions from Eric Snow and Aaron McKie, is it any wonder that Iverson’s usage rate was 36%? In the playoffs, Iverson averaged a shocking 32.9 ppg and just looking down his points during those playoffs is amazing: 45 against Indiana, 54 and 52 against Toronto, a string of 46, 44, and 48 against Milwaukee and the Lakers. Yes, they eventually lost to Kobe and Shaq (who earned my hatred in the process), but Iverson’s 2000-01 season and playoffs surely stand as one of the greatest examples of grit and determination in the NBA.

But there’s a flipside to that. Weirdly, Iverson played on better teams than that 2000-01 Sixers team with less success, and a lot of that is because of him. He demanded the team work around him and everywhere he’s landed, from Denver to Detroit to Memphis back to Philly and on to Europe and now Latin America, he’s encountered obstacles apparently greater than playing with Eric Snow. As it is with so many, his greatest strength is also his greatest undoing. When the team was all about him, he led them to the Finals. When he’s been given more, he’s done less. When he’s done more—more passing, more deferring—he’s gotten less. He’s earned every criticism leveled at him, but he’s also shrugged them off. So as unlikely as it might seem that he’ll be arriving in the Dominican Republic on Sunday to play in his first game there, it’s entirely understandable that he just can’t stop playing.

To me, though, he’ll always be the guy who did this to Anthony Daniels:

And if you want a longer look at Iverson, check this video hosted by Stephon Marbury (!):

Ben Gordon And An Alternate Conception Of The Hot Hand

Photo by wnd.andreas on Flickr

Over at the mothership, Henry Abbott has done as much work as anybody at debunking the hot hand as a statisical phenomenon. Here he looks a study that finds that players who make a 3-pointer are more likely to take another one and more likely to miss it. He says that the study “noted that after hitting a 3, in his MVP 2007-2008 season, Kobe Bryant’s next shot would be another 3 53 percent of the time. After a miss, his next shot would be a 3 a mere 14 percent of the time.” And here he delves into research that looks at why “[w]e often see patterns where, in fact, there is randomness.” Given the reams of research that have gone into the broader phenomenon that the hot hand is a part of, I would consider the matter of whether or not it exists as a statistical phenomenon to be settled and the answer is that it does not.

But then a thing happens like Ben Gordon in Denver last night happens and it makes me wonder if there’s not another way, a non-statisical way, of looking at the hot hand that will help us understand it–or, perhaps, conceptualize of it–in a different way. Gordon did, after all, score 45 points, more than half of them from 3-point territory, where he shot an NBA record-tying 9 for 9. For the game overall he shot 59%. Detroit, by the way, lost the game on a Javale McGee dunk on a missed free throw. Statistically speaking, this is an aberration, and simply the kind of performance that offsets those inexplicable games where a shooter can’t hit a shot to save his life. It’s happened even to Ray Allen, and in the playoffs, no less.

But what if we think about the idea of the hot hand from the perspective of basketball as an expressive or creative endeavor? (This is kind of my thing.) If we consider writing, particularly the writing of fiction, there are many stages to the work that goes into creating a short story or novel, but the first is almost always generation. At this stage, the most important thing for the writer is turn off his or her inner critic and let whatever comes out onto the page with little regard for how useful the material will be in the end. Charles Limb’s TED talk addresses this method of creating with regard to music and improvisation, backing up the idea that feedback loops in the brain shut down when a musician is improvising. And both musicians and writers will be familiar with the feeling that comes along with genuinely fertile moments of generation: it feels like you can do no wrong, feels like you’re hearing your authentic voice, like you’re almost just a conduit for something greater than yourself.

Is that so different from what a shooter seems to be feeling when the shots are falling? If we take a look at the beginning of Ben Gordon’s ridiculous evening, we can see how his confidence, his sense that he’s tapped into something, grows.

His first shot comes off a curl and misses. His next opportunity comes off another curl, but this time Jason Maxiell sets another screen off the catch and Gordon moves into open space and drains it. He scores his next two off the exact same play.

This is where you get the sense he’s feeling it, because his next shot is a little less open but he takes it anyways and misses. But the next time he gets the ball is another curl and here he refuses the pick, spins into open space and drains another 2:

Then, three things happen: he makes a wide-open 3 in transition, pump fakes his way into a layup that misses, and then makes another wide-open 3 in transition. It’s clear at this point to Gordon that his jumper feels right and that the attempt to drive the lane was ill-advised, so he starts firing, and everything is going in:

Off the curl, in transition, covered, uncovered, drawing the foul–any shot he was taking was going in. That second-to-last shot, the pull-up jumper in transition, is a particularly egregious example of an essentially stupid basketball shot that Gordon took because he was “feeling” it. And last night, it worked for him as a player.

But it’s not at all clear that it worked for the Pistons as a team, and this is where it comes back to writing. When you’re in that generative state, where everything is flowing easily, you write some of the best lines, the best chunks, the best bits and pieces you ever write. But you’re not necessarily writing the best story. Most any veteran writer or writing instructor will quote Quiller-Couch to you and tell you to, “Murder your darlings,” but it’s only through the hard work of revision that you learn to feel this in your bones, that you feel it the same way you feel the true things you’re writing that you must sacrifice.

Ben Gordon on the court last night in Denver was generating like a motherfucker. A volume shooter on a bender like that brings to mind the legend of Jack Kerouac writing On The Road in one monster, three-week jag on a continuous scroll of paper. But what you don’t hear as much about is how Kerouac worked for three years on the idea of the novel before that compressed effort and then worked for six more on revising it. In writing, the heat and fire of generating new work can only carry you so far before you have to go back and begin to carefully revise what you’ve done. Unfortunately, this isn’t precisely possible within basketball, although players can certainly study tape to try and learn from past efforts.

But wouldn’t the Pistons maybe have been better off if Gordon had revised some of those jumpers–even the successful ones–into assists? This is where he would really be murdering his darlings because it might be the case that sometimes he shouldn’t have even been taking the good shots in favor of promulgating a more balanced offense. Not that the Pistons are overflowing with offensive options, but maybe if the love is spread around a bit more, Gordon doesn’t force up that final jumper and miss the game-winning shot.

And thus does the notion of the hot hand as a psychological construct and not a statistical phenomenon place approaching it in a game in a precarious position. Looking back at a performance like Gordon’s, we might wish he considered his shooting a little more carefully. But even asking him to consider it risks removing him from that free-flowing, generative mindstate that’s making him so successful. Nothing stops up your process quicker than thinking about your process. Writers have the luxury of creating reams of paper that never see the light of day, picking and choosing not only the best parts, but the parts that work best together to make something that works as a whole. It’s best for them to separate the generating mind from the revising mind as strictly as possible.

But basketball players have to do it all right there in front of us, writing their rough and final drafts simultaneously and hoping they’re not sacrificing the great of the win for the good of the hot hand.