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Tag Archive - Lockout

History Tells Us, There Are No Guarantees In Lockout Seasons

February 21, 2012 in by with 1 Comment

 

Via Flickr - Irargerich

It was a truncated lockout season in the NBA. A lockout season where an upstart was trying to knock off a favorite.  A favorite with a platoon of prominent players that had not yet graced digits with that most coveted of rewards, a championship ring. I speak of course of the Oklahoma City Thunder and Miami Heat. Or do I?

There are parallels to be drawn. The 1999 lockout season featured a pair of teams crossing the compressed finish line tied for the best record in the NBA, and as we speak the Heat and Thunder each stand atop their respective conferences, tied for tops in the league at 25-7. But the favorites I refer to are the ’99 Utah Jazz and upstart-at-the-time San Antonio Spurs who had recently lucked out against all odds and landed a future all-timer in Tim Duncan whom they could throw at current best-power-forward-of-all-time Karl Malone.

At that time the Spurs and Jazz were unfortunately not only in the same conference, but also in the now defunct-due-to-realignment Midwest Division. Utah had run headlong into his magnificent Airness, Michael Jordan, the pair of previous Finals, but MJ had now retired (again), leaving an open lane for the John Stockton and Karl Malone-led Jazz to roll right to the Larry O’Brien hoop trophy unabated.

Despite attempting to replicate the recipe of the last NBA champs not named the Chicago Bulls to a degree, the Houston Rockets, the Spurs’ “power centers” Tim Duncan and 1994-95 MVP David Robinson had been unable to supplant the Jazz’s mighty trio of Malone, Stockton, and Jeff Hornacek, getting blasted out of the West playoffs the year before 4-1 by Utah. The Jazz were heavily favored to go all the way this time after reaching the conference finals five of the last seven years and the Finals for two straight, losing one of the late-spring series to MJ and Co. by a total point differential of only four points.

But it was not to be.

As it happens, these two powerhouses wouldn’t even get the chance to clash on the court in the accelerated ’99 playoffs as the Jazz would plow through most of the regular season only to run out of gas near end.

The Jazz finished a [tied-for] league-best 37-13 in 1999 but limped to a 5-5 finish over the last 10 games before struggling, by their mighty standards, in the playoffs. A middling Sacramento team took Utah the distance in the first round, and the Blazers eliminated the Jazz in six games in the second round.

 -Zach Lowe, The Point Forward

I remember that Portland series vividly, even though it happened more than a decade ago. The Jazz won game 1 at home by 10. But then lost game 2, by 3 points. Arvydas Sabonis was a huge man who devoured the paint. Isaiah Rider scored 27 points in that game, and Rasheed Wallace had three blocks and three steals. Worst of all Brian Grant went to the line more than Karl Malone did – and even finished the game with the same number of points…the Blazers broke the Jazz’ serve, and then were beat in Game 3 by 10 points. The Blazers went to the line endlessly in that game – 50 times. Utah also turned the ball over 16 times, and shot (as a team) only 38.9 fg%.

-AllThatJazzBasketball, SLCDunk

The Jazz weren’t just aging; they were ancient, and considering what happened to them after 1999 (and what happened to the Kings, too), perhaps we shouldn’t have been surprised they struggled against Sacramento and Portland — a team went 35-15, by the way. Utah’s three best players (Karl Malone, Jeff Horancek and John Stockton) were 36, 36 and 37, respectively, by the end of July 1999, and the roster did not feature a single young player worthy of starting in the NBA.

-Zach Lowe, The Point Forward

Just how “ancient” were those Jazz that were so burnt out and beat down by the time they reached the postseason that they made abundant uncharacteristic mistakes and missed shots? Through the 1999 NBA season, the Big 3 of Malone, Stockton, and Hornacek had played a combined 108,786 NBA minutes (minutes being a more accurate measure of wear and tear than actual age). And the former were legendarily durable and conditioned in a mythical way only less than a handful of players in the league’s annals can lay claim to even approaching.

These present Spurs can boast no such thing, and taking into account a kind estimate of Manu Ginobili’s seven years of professional service prior the Spurs at 1,500 minutes per-season, San Antonio’s Big 3 will have played something very near to 95,497 minutes by season’s end.

In other words, they’re ripe for the picking and supplanting by, oh, I don’t know, the OKC Thunder.

Who may just turn around and run into this era’s version of the ’90s Bulls, the Miami Heat.

Potentially over and over again.

___

A couple of fun nuggets uncovered in the course of researching this piece:

• The current Spurs are through 32 games and on an eleven-game win streak. Beginning at game 30 of the 1999 lockout-shortened season the Utah Jazz ripped off a win streak too — of eleven games

• Through 32 games of the ’99 season the Jazz were 26-6. Through 32 games of the current season the best record is held by the Miami Heat and OKC Thunder at 25-7

• In ’99, a younger Spurs started the season somewhat slower through 32 games, but still a very warm 22-10. However, they would finish the regular season 13-1 beating the now-stumbling Jazz twice, holding them to a mere 78 and 69 points, and demolish everything they ran into in the playoffs sweeping both the Los Angeles Lakers and aforementioned Portland Trail Blazers en route to a 15-2 postseason record for a combined 28-3 finish to their initial title run that culminated in a steamrolling of the unlikely upstart New York Knicks

Jeremy Lin anyone?

Funny how history can be so cyclical.

___

“Failure can prepare you for success.”

-Avery Johnson

If you’ve noticed any other parallels let me know, I’d love to hear about ‘em.

The Way We Were

November 8, 2011 in by with 3 Comments

Author Illustration

“Haha, why are you watching this garbage? Everybody knows it doesn’t matter who wins.”

“Yeah, I know. I just…well, I saw this old holo-bio and it was… different then somehow. All these people, they were like, crazy about their teams back then, I guess.”

“It’s true, kids. Oh, hi, Mike, your mother know you’re here? Good, good. Yep, it sure was a different game then, not like now, what with the blowouts and Gilbert-may-care 5-pointers and all. Guys used to really give a shit, I mean really give a shit about what went on out there. It was like life or death for some of ‘em, y’know, the way they laid it out there, left it all out there, night in and out. 82 times a year, plus some, if you were lucky and good. Not these impossible-to-understand year-round on-off schedules like they have now, there were real seasons with real playoffs back in the day.

Man, before the No Basketball Apocalypse there was this one year when we thought a playoff series between the Bulls and Celtics would never end! It was glorious! Derrick Rose… you guys know who that was, right? I mean, before he went off to Spain and Greece and the Philippines and wherever else the hell it was… no? Well, no matter. Just trust me when I say he was spectacular, or was gonna be. Anyway, he just explodes out of the gate in his first ever playoff game, tying all these records and stuff, and takes the defending champs –the defending champs!– all the way to seven games! Seven games, and something like nine OTs! No, seriously, I swear it! Hell, that kid was so good he nabbed the MVP –that’s Most Valuable Player, y’know, of the league– a couple years later.

Come to think of it, that might have been the last year they really played basketball for real. Not like this garbage they peddle now that all the kids laugh at and no one watches unless soccer and XLLaCrosse are over early. Yeah, those Bulls were really, really good. Say, you know that guy in the logo? He was a Chicago Bull too. And maybe the best player ever. Don’t laugh! I’m not joking, he used to be as cold-blooded on the court as he is as The Silent Judge on that one show now. He once destroyed every team that got in his way for six straight championships, well, except for two years off in the middle when he played baseball –that’s like cricket, kinda, only with simple scoring and a stick instead of a paddle.

Whatever! Just because I don’t understand “the intricacies of cricket scoring” doesn’t mean I’m “old,” knock that off! I just…

Anyhow, so this dude takes a couple years off and out of nowhere comes this big man who could move like nothing I’d ever seen before or since, and he leads his team to two straight titles, one of ‘em as the lowest seed in the league’s history, well, back before the Mickey Mouse rules they have now. Mickey Mouse? He was… nevermind, it means “stoopid.” So, these Rockets, they practically back into the playoffs, losing two of their last three games to the team they have to play in the first round, and this Hakeem the Dream dude, he steps out and drops something like 50 or 60 points on this other big dude they called The Mailman. What’s mail? It was… dependable, that’s what mail was. So, these two big guys go back and forth all series long, trading shots and post moves –that’s where big guys used to go to work back before everybody started slinging rocks from the moon– and they take the series and run with the momentum all the way through the Finals.

And the fans… oh, man, the fans! They were rabid back then! I used to be hoarse for three days after a game just trying to out-yell the guy next to me tryin’ to have my voice heard too. No kidding, I’m dead serious. It was an event to go to a game back then, you couldn’t just buy a ticket and cruise right down to the front row like now. And games like that were the talk of the town for weeks, sometimes years, afterward. It was a kind of badge of honor to be able to say, “Hey! I was at that game when so-and-so did that!”

What happened? You know, I’m not even sure now. I do remember that it was one helluva roller coaster though. It seems like they were close –oh, so close– for so long. And then one day POOF! It was just gone.

Okay, well, not gone gone. But it was never the same since. People just didn’t come back, and those that did… they were… changed. Tainted. Hurt. More… quiet, or more accurately, maybe, muffled. It was like the passion and joy had been sucked out of them by some kind of evil sports-mongering bloodsucker. And when they did speak the cynicism was as plain as the sponsors on the uniforms of today, as sharp as a plasma knife slicing through a holiday ham at Christmas dinner down at the depots.

Man, I really wanted to see what that kid on the Clippers –that’s right, there used to be only two teams in LA and a team called the Clippers were one of ‘em– was gonna be capable of. Those exhibition-type dunks now? He used to do ‘em in traffic against defenses hellbent on keeping him from the rim at any cost. And they couldn’t! He used to go up in the air and come down like rain. Well, like rain back before…

Hmm? Right. Sorry, kids, I was rambling off in the land of daydreams and recollections. The game used to be that good. Really.

Well, I’m off to smash some peaches with a sledgehammer. If your mom asks you have no idea what happened to ‘em. Hey! Don’t forget your short crosse and helmets. And be back before the hydro-dome lights kick all the way on.”

Have a Seat

October 31, 2011 in by with 3 Comments

Fans have a voice, too. Right? Right?

Image via KidKameleon on Flickr

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stay in School

October 31, 2011 in by with 0 Comments

Staredown

Image via shafik on Flickr

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feeling Like a Kid Again

October 31, 2011 in by with 0 Comments

talking to no one

Image via bionicteaching on flickr

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

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

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

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

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

Sinking Deeper Every Day: 70+ Things This Lockout Will Withhold

August 6, 2011 in by with 4 Comments

Photo by almost something poetic on Flickr

Saturday evening. Roughly 5:15 p.m. EST. I am sitting in a coffeeshop watching choppy Ustream of the Drew League games in LA when 36 year-old Joe Smith shows he can still get up and throw down. Immediately, I get a gchat message from @outsidethenba: “If that was an NBA game there’d be all sorts of age jokes on Twitter.”

<Insert sad face here>.

I miss the NBA. I know it’s still the offseason and we haven’t missed any games and things really aren’t that different…yet. I know these things. I know that the NFL sorted things out. I know that there are lots of people who are enjoying the break from the hustle and bustle of the season. I know that bodies need to rest and batteries need to be recharged. I know. It doesn’t change the fact that I miss it.

It’s been 111 days since I’ve been in an NBA arena to cover an NBA game. You’re lucky I appreciate you all or I’d list 111 things I’m longing for.

That’s 111 days since I’ve heard the high-pitched squeal of shoes squeaking on hardwood, or the slap of a foul committed in the post or the shrill pitch of a referee’s whistle refusing to be silenced by the drone of a crowd that disagrees with the call.

I’m itching. Antsy. Beyond ready.

And I know I’m going to have to wait. I’m going to have to wait to see Kenneth Faried make Denver fall in love with him, followed by fans everywhere. I’m going to have to wait to see Kemba Walker and Bismack Biyombo make me tune in to every single Bobcats game. To watch DeMar DeRozan’s first 40-point game and to hear Mark Jackson mic’d up in the huddle, to see if he says “hand down, man down” and to watch the reaction of his players when it does inevitably slip out.

I’m going to have to wait to see how Kobe’s knees are feeling after a summer of rest and alternative treatment. To hear KG say dirty words that make people angry. To watch DeJuan Blair continue to amaze, impress and inspire those of us with our ACL’s still intact. To get frustrated with DeMarcus Cousins when he gives people extra ammunition to use against him and to be elated when he drops a 25-point, 13-rebound, seven-assist night.

I want to watch John Wall and JaVale McGee. I want to be relieved that McGee left planking behind in the depths of lockout hell. I want to see Brandon Jennings put on a dizzying show and then flip the channel and see Russell Westbrook playing his game, yeah, the one that often causes him to be compared to television villains because people forget how much he’s still got left to learn.

I want my Twitter to be blowing up with silly hashtags for each and every Blake dunk. I want to see Blake dunk. Over cars, over Mozgovs, over everything.

I want to be able to tweet “all blocks everything” while delighting in the joy that Serge Ibaka brings. I want to see James Harden’s beard and Kevin Durant’s backpack. I want to watch Durant drop 60…On NBA defenders. I want to watch Eric Maynor nail buzzer beaters from half court and know Zach Harper is freaking out with me.

I want to watch Tristan Thompson in Cleveland and Cory Joseph in San Antonio and then I want to enjoy watching each of them experience their hometown debuts against the Raptors in Toronto.

I want Tristan to give Kemba a run for his money when we’re talking about best-dressed rookies.

I want to see Paul George take another big step forward. I want to see Lance Stephenson take the first step. I want to see Jeff Foster get hyped and Tyler Hansbrough get offensive rebounds.

I want to see Steve Nash be Steve Nash. I want to see if Raymond Felton is in shape. I want to see Jrue Holiday and Lou Williams and Andre Iguodala make Doug Collins give super long, over the top compliments in his postgame pressers. I want to see a sophomore Ekpe Udoh. A veteran Raja Bell. A healthy Brandon Roy.

I want to see Udonis Haslem playing without ‘rows. I want to be instantly put at ease when I hear Hubie’s voice emitting from the television set. I want to tense up when I wait nervously on Thursday night to see if I’m going to be stuck with Reggie Miller’s. I want to see Shaq on TNT.

I want to get excited for Kyrie’s first double-double, emotional for the championship ring presentation and proud for Mark Cuban and Dirk Nowitzki, still smiling after this stupid wait that is keeping them from their banner. I want to see Mike Brown in LA, Dwane Casey in Toronto, Lawrence Frank in Detroit.

I want to extend my best wishes to Frank in Detroit. As much as I miss the game, that roster still makes my head hurt.

I want to see Chris Paul. Remember the playoffs? Yeah, you do. God, do I ever want to watch Chris Paul play basketball. Give me Aaron Gray and Jason Smith and Chris Paul. He’ll make it work.

I want to see Ricky Rubio.

I want to see Jonny Flynn in Houston (where he is hopefully playing well).

I want to see Dwight dominate and I want to hear us debate how good he could he if he would just <insert suggestion here>. I want to see if he stays in Orlando. I want to see Melo and Amar’e continue to get comfortable in New York. I want to see Derrick Rose continue to make Brenda Rose proud and the rest of us speechless. I want to see Jeff Teague get buckets, Jamal Crawford rack up 4-point plays, Xavier Henry get burn and I want to talk with OJ Mayo because he rewards good questions with great answers even if the team bus is leaving in five minutes.

I want to see Tony Allen go Tony Allen and play defense with his hands behind his back. I want to see Doc Rivers coaching his team. I really want to watch Rajon Rondo continue to prove why he’s an iron man and to show why he is my favorite player to watch (minus the free throws).

I want to watch Rajon Rondo shoot free throws and Shawn Marion shoot jumpers and Jose Calderon play defense. That is where we are right now.

I want it all. I don’t want to wait. I think it’s foolish that we’re on the verge of losing actual games because people can’t sort this stuff out. It depresses me. It frustrates and infuriates me. When you’ve got a good thing, don’t let it slip away. NBA, you’re coming off an incredible season and I haven’t even mentioned the boys of Miami yet. Don’t mess this up. Don’t push us away. Don’t play dumb. Play games. Please. Soon. On schedule.

In the meantime, I’ll be Ustreaming and Youtubing my life away, watching skinny, shirtless boys singing songs about Brandon Jennings and his money. Please, give me more than that. I promise I’ll give you back my full attention.

Before my internet bill is through the roof because I’ve streamed too many streetball/euroleague/national team friendly matches, before we lose Nate Robinson to the NFL, before you lose me to the dark side, let’s figure this out.

It’s been 111 days. Please, don’t make me endure 111+ more.