I can see clearly now, the rain is gone. The lockout has lifted, we have a season, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) And in the spirit of renewal, our shiny new cadre of writers is putting together previews for all 30 teams in true HP style. From where teams are going to what their disgrace is to explorations of pop culture, we are about to rock, salute us, can I get an Amen? (Amen.) So sit back, relax, and ponder the awesomeness of this fully operational Hardwood Paroxysm 3.0. -Ed.Â
QUO VADIMUS (WHERE ARE WE GOING?)
By Sean Highkin
In the suddenly wide-open Western Conference, the Grizzlies as good a chance as anyone of reaching the Finals. Michael Heisley has finally put his money where his mouth is, paying up big to extend Zach Randolph and re-up Marc Gasol, keeping one of the toughest front lines in the West intact. Rudy Gay, who missed almost half of last season, is back. This team has about three years to capitalize on the situation they’ve put themselves in before the big contracts they’ve handed out turn from necessary expenses to financial albatrosses.
Gay is back, but Darrell Arthur is out for the year with an Achilles injury and Shane Battier left for Miami. Otherwise, though, the team that shocked the top-seeded Spurs in the first round of the 2011 playoffs and came within one game of reaching the Conference Finals is mostly intact. And that may be enough in a conference without a clear favorite. These Grizzlies are the kind of team nobody wants any part of in any series or during any road trip. To use one of Tony Allen’s favorite phrases, they’re a team that grinds. They’ll be physical, they’ll do the dirty work, they’ll find ways to shut you down. The biggest question mark in the rotation currently is O.J. Mayo, who the Grizzlies insist they’re not shopping right now despite almost trading him for Josh McRoberts last week. Off-court struggles and some on-court regression caused him to lose his starting job to Allen last year, and now he must find a way to bounce back amid an uncertain role and persistent trade rumors. The good news for him is that the Grizz’ roster and direction are more set now than they were going into last season, so he’ll get his opportunities to earn back his job.
With Arthur’s injury, the Grizz could stand to add another big man. Former Blazers and Bobcats forward Dante Cunningham signed an offer sheet recently, and by the time you read this he may or may not be officially on this roster. Either way, with Gasol and Randolph locked up and other key rotation players either healthy or poised to improve, this is a team to be scared of.
POPULAR THEORIES IN BASKETBALL-CULTURAL CROSS-REFERENCES
By Danny Chau
Was there life before Tony Allen?
Okay. Dumb question. The Grizzlies were a team on the rise before Allen ever inked his contract two summers ago. They were a game under .500, and the team had a standard framework with standard pieces. They had a big, burly center who was consistent on both ends of the floor. They had an excellent rebounding power forward with strong post play. They had a hyper-athletic archetypal small forward, a gunning shooting guard, and a crafty point guard still learning the position. They had the pieces, but something was missing. They were missing a bit of energy, a bit of imperfection, a bit of crazy.
If there was any criticism for Sam Cooke, it was the saccharine quality of his records. For the father of soul, his records were restrained. He didn’t pull people in with the power of his voice, but in the litheness and vanilla of the songs. But a completely different animal arrived during live performances. And perhaps the greatest gift he left (other than the gift of Soul, of course) after his untimely death in 1964 was his live performance at a club in Miami.
Listen to the first two minutes of the video above. It’s an interlude to “Bring It On Home To Me,†a rendition of one of his earlier hits, “You Send Me,†but only in name. While the original is a quaint, tender song, what he belts out in the interlude is a powerful story of the visceral compulsion.  It’s an unbelievable energy that he creates, a movement that summons not only his inner-most grit, but the audience’s audible adulation. Cooke unleashes his power, but always reins back. It isn’t about losing yourself completely. It’s about finding a balance between order and inspiration and discovering that optimal conditions might not always be right in the middle.
The Grizzlies’ second round series against the Oklahoma City Thunder was their Harlem Square Club performance. It was a nice encapsulation of everything the team was capable of despite adversity and losing the team’s most recognizable star. Now that star is back, but a few other injuries placed at least a touch of doubt in the team’s forecast.
So was “Heart. Grit. Grind.†just a tagline for the Grizzlies’ storybook season last year, or are they ready for it to define their future?
WILL YOU REMEMBER ME, I WILL REMEMBER YOU
By Noam Schiller
Once upon a time, in a land far far away, there lived a young underdog.
The underdog had been ridiculed all its life. It was heckled when they signed Bryant Reeves to a $62 million deal. It was violently dismissed when it amassed a distressing 0-12 record in its first 3 playoff appearances. It was guffawed at when it lost the best player in franchise history for a pack of smokes and a “hope the second rounder we just gave you loses a lot of weight and becomes a top-notch center” Hallmark card.
But the underdog didn’t mind. It enjoyed every second of Shareef Abdur-Rahim, both ends of the Mike Bibby-Jason Williams trade, Pau Gasol with or without the beard. It even loved DeMarre Carroll. Loved him with all its heart. Because it knew, deep down, that one day it will become a contender.
One day, a large-bottomed malcontent came to town. “Look at that underdog”, everybody laughed. “The large-bottomed malcontent couldn’t even make it in New York. Everybody knows that everything is better in New York!” But the underdog loved the large-bottomed malcontent so much. They loved his smooth shooting. They loved his offensive rebounding. Â They loved how he couldn’t be stopped in the post, not if he really cared. They loved him so much that he started passing, and he started defending, and the underdog fed him in the post, and he became an all-star.
Then, the underdog signed a crazy free agent. “Look at that underdog!”, everybody howled, “just look at them! Didn’t they watch the crazy free agent in Boston? Didn’t they see him tear an ACL for a garbage time dunk? Don’t they know he can’t even make layups?” But the underdog loved its crazy free agent. They loved his grit, grind and heart so much, that they made t-shirts about him. And the crazy free agent started making layups, and became a Defensive Player of the Year candidate.
Then, the underdog gave a $45 million dollar contract to its left-handed bust. “LOOK AT THAT UNDERDOG!”, everybody bellowed, “look how much money they gave the left-handed bust! Don’t they know that he’s not a good point guard? Can’t they see he’s too small, and he makes too many mistakes on offense, and he can’t score?” But the underdog loved the left-handed bust so much. They loved how fast he was, and they loved how much he cared. And the left-handed bust posted a career high assist rate, and a career low turnover rate, and became a very good basketball player.
The underdog loved all of its players. And the players loved the underdog. And even more importantly, they loved each other. They fought and they hustled and they defended and they got back to the playoffs. And when they faced one of its old bullies, they punked them.
Suddenly, everybody was friends with the underdog. “Hey, underdog!”, they said, “nice job in the playoffs! Can we be friends, now? Can we have your borderline all-star swingman who has come back from injury? Can we have your skilled free agent center? We’re friends, and friends share!”
But the underdog didn’t want to share. It knew the other teams weren’t really friends. They were just scared.. Scared of the unstoppable frontcourt, scared of the defensive intensity, scared of losing to a silly underdog. Scared because the underdog had evolved into a big, beautiful contender.
The big, beautiful contender was about to embark on a journey towards a championship. But just before it went on its way, there was a hint of sadness. The success of a contender is never as fun as the success of an underdog. The contender wasn’t ungrateful – it truly was happy at what it had become. But that 2010-2011 feeling was unlike any other that it will ever feel.







