So it boils down to this, in my mind.
The two most powerful forces in today's NBA: The iron will of Kevin Garnett and the Chamberlainesque power and domination of LeBron James. Yes, there are others. But none as them as pivotal and definitive of the 2007-2008 NBA season than these two.
For Garnett, his story of struggle is rooted in the consequence of failure. Year after year, with a poorly managed franchise, and hardly enough to take him where he wanted, the Minnesota Timberwolves failed to achieve what their transcendeary leader represented. And so he became a tragic hero, desperately loyal to an organization that could not return the favor, and a side note in an era dominated by Tim Duncan and Shaquille O'Neal. And truly, it was a tragedy, as evident in the level of pride that this uniquley American persona (so unique, it was practically un-American--a Japanese level of comittment to his franchise) demonstrated, game in, game out. He is by my account, the most noble athlete in the modern history of professional sports.
Then there is LeBron James. Witness, Wieden + Kennedy told us last year. This season as evidence, we certainly have. He is an athlete of unprecedented supremacy. A real life X-Men whose level physical domination is becoming matched by a killer instinct we have not seen before. His career, unlike Garnett's, is one of one achievement often surpassing iconic expectations. He is not a force of nature as Garnett is with his emotional domination of basketball will--but nature itself--unequivocally the most physically gifted player in the league today and perhaps ever. Never before has there been such a combination of size, strength, speed, quickness and agility.
And in this sense, LeBron and KG share something. Both entered as prototypes for generations to come. Uniquely skilled, and athletically gifted--they brought new context to what it meant to be a star in the National Basketball Association. But through the failures of Garnett's career in Minnesota, his awesomeness was hidden and buried.
But now, in the twilight of his prime--Garnett has made one final Herculean effort to achieve what his career has been missing. And to do so, he has united with 2 players whom have had similar destinies in the city where professional basketball was once religion. Garnett's intensity has provided leadership and a commitment to playing world-class defense that has made the Celtics one of the stories of this incredible season of NBA basketball.
So as every game in the Western Conference has turned into a do-or-die like situation, the powerhouses in the East wait patiently. Cleveland will not lose to Detroit in a 7-game series. Boston won't be beat by any team other than LeBrons. This is the central dynamic of the of NBA this season. Good thing we've got March Madness and the playoff race in the west to hold us off until then.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
Wave-Particle Theory or Jedi-Sith?
As the brackets are officially out, and we count our collective (64) blessings as citizens of the greatest sports culture in human history, I felt this may be the time to ask the age old hoops question:
Of course, these are pure Smith/Marxian paradigms that blend together in practical application, but the fundamental ideals can be found and extracted from all teams playing today. (If you still doubt this, realize that Coach K's system, and how well that system is executed--regardless of players--is the ultimate factor in success at Duke. At North Carolina, whether it's Dean Smith or Roy Williams, their greatness has always been defined by the greatness of their players.)
So here, I'll rephrase the original question: Duke or Carolina, which model works better at a professional level? Or does one work better than the other?
One main reason I bring this up, is to highlight the incredible 22-game (and counting) win streak by the Houston Rockets. With only one star player, Houston has managed to generate a team chemistry that is taking the league by storm. This is not to say that the Carolina model is void of chemistry. Chemistry, in basketball terms, is not a measure of selfishness, or selflessness --but the harmony that exists between either. In Houston's case however, the elevated play of role players in the absence of superstar Yao Ming, is more relevant than Tracy McGrady's individual success--as illustrated in Sunday's abysmal individual performance by McGrady.
The preservation of the system for success in Houston has become undeniably the single most important factor to every member of the team and the coaching staff, if for no other reason than pure necessity to stay alive in the grueling Western Conference with Yao out.
To contrast this model, the top team in the other conference are the Boston Celtics. Their success is of course, heavily reliant on the individual performances of their Big 3--Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce and Ray Allen. The chemistry, like in Houston is richly harmonious and the reason for having the best record in the NBA. But how that chemistry comes about, resides in achieving specific individual objectives for each player on the team.
The dichotomy between these two paradigms in practice can often seem invisible. What it really amounts to, is a difference in mental approach. Do you view the cog as the sum of its collective parts, or is the cog indistingushable from its collective parts?
The NBA has traditionally been a superstar-driven league. Championships are achieved by the Carolina model with a few notable exceptions (including Walton's Blazers, Sikma's Sonics and Billups' Pistons) no more evident than in Carolina Tarheel and flagship 20th century athlete, Michael Jeffery Jordan.
The college game on the other hand, due largely to a general lack of super-athleticism and size--is typically won by more collective, Duke-ian models for success. John Calipari's Memphis team, and the Jerry Tarkanian's UNLV Running Rebels of the early 90's are some exceptions.
For whatever reason, this is why I believe the college game appeals so much to middle-class, white Americans. While cultural norms promote high levels of ego (relative to almost every other culture in the world), middle-class whites love a certain level of Marxism in their sports. Though I will say, many people of all colors and creeds make it their business to rebel against the Duke model for their over-transparent embracing of this collectivism.
Currently though, as we enter a rennisance in the NBA the traditionally uber Carolina-powered philosophies in the league are meeting their foils in increasing numbers. Teams like Houston, Detroit, Utah, Portland and Dallas have implemented their variations of the Duke model, while the era's definative dynasty--the San Antonio Spurs--implement an almost perfectly 50/50 blend of the Carolina and Duke philosophies.
To me, it really stems down to whether you play the matchup game, or the system game (which I apologize for taking so damn long in getting to). Is the NBA a game of matchups, or is it something more?
Its my hypothesis that the matchup game is greatly overrated by the national media. Case in point, the San Antonio Spurs. On a given night, they have likely 1-3 winning individual matchups in Duncan, Ginobili and Parker. But realistically, its between 1 and 2 matchups, with Parker and Ginobili being variable depending on the opposing backcourt.
In one way the Spurs win on the Carolina model, as their success is so heavily predicated on the staple matchup they'll always win, in the great Tim Duncan. On the otherhand, what Duncan's matchup advantage means to the whole, and how it anchors a highly sophisticated and egalitarian system (both offensively and defensively) is a clear indicator of the Coach K model of success.
A big part of what's making the NBA so interesting this year is the overlap point in the Ven Diagram where so many different kinds of teams and players are existing and succeeding at the same time. This of course, includes the aforementioned Duke-Carolina binary.
I'll be honest, I'm not sure I have a definative answer to the question posed at the beginning of this post. And its funny because the Carolina model at the collegic level isn't truly realized until players hit their physical and mental basketball primes, which normally happens in the pros. Mismatches aren't taken advantage of at the college level, as they are in the pro game. But the true effects, and measurable implications of the matchup game, I still believe to be truly overrated. Weakside/help defense is far too sophisticated today, to let a pure Carolinan dominate all the way to a Larry O'Brien trophy.
Maybe there is no true answer, or maybe it all depends on personnel. That being said, the world is still waiting to hear from LeBron James and his career destiny.
- Is the Duke, or North Carolina model for basketball success superior, inferior, or indifferent when implemented at the professional level?
Of course, these are pure Smith/Marxian paradigms that blend together in practical application, but the fundamental ideals can be found and extracted from all teams playing today. (If you still doubt this, realize that Coach K's system, and how well that system is executed--regardless of players--is the ultimate factor in success at Duke. At North Carolina, whether it's Dean Smith or Roy Williams, their greatness has always been defined by the greatness of their players.)
So here, I'll rephrase the original question: Duke or Carolina, which model works better at a professional level? Or does one work better than the other?
One main reason I bring this up, is to highlight the incredible 22-game (and counting) win streak by the Houston Rockets. With only one star player, Houston has managed to generate a team chemistry that is taking the league by storm. This is not to say that the Carolina model is void of chemistry. Chemistry, in basketball terms, is not a measure of selfishness, or selflessness --but the harmony that exists between either. In Houston's case however, the elevated play of role players in the absence of superstar Yao Ming, is more relevant than Tracy McGrady's individual success--as illustrated in Sunday's abysmal individual performance by McGrady.
The preservation of the system for success in Houston has become undeniably the single most important factor to every member of the team and the coaching staff, if for no other reason than pure necessity to stay alive in the grueling Western Conference with Yao out.
To contrast this model, the top team in the other conference are the Boston Celtics. Their success is of course, heavily reliant on the individual performances of their Big 3--Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce and Ray Allen. The chemistry, like in Houston is richly harmonious and the reason for having the best record in the NBA. But how that chemistry comes about, resides in achieving specific individual objectives for each player on the team.
The dichotomy between these two paradigms in practice can often seem invisible. What it really amounts to, is a difference in mental approach. Do you view the cog as the sum of its collective parts, or is the cog indistingushable from its collective parts?
The NBA has traditionally been a superstar-driven league. Championships are achieved by the Carolina model with a few notable exceptions (including Walton's Blazers, Sikma's Sonics and Billups' Pistons) no more evident than in Carolina Tarheel and flagship 20th century athlete, Michael Jeffery Jordan.
The college game on the other hand, due largely to a general lack of super-athleticism and size--is typically won by more collective, Duke-ian models for success. John Calipari's Memphis team, and the Jerry Tarkanian's UNLV Running Rebels of the early 90's are some exceptions.
For whatever reason, this is why I believe the college game appeals so much to middle-class, white Americans. While cultural norms promote high levels of ego (relative to almost every other culture in the world), middle-class whites love a certain level of Marxism in their sports. Though I will say, many people of all colors and creeds make it their business to rebel against the Duke model for their over-transparent embracing of this collectivism.
Currently though, as we enter a rennisance in the NBA the traditionally uber Carolina-powered philosophies in the league are meeting their foils in increasing numbers. Teams like Houston, Detroit, Utah, Portland and Dallas have implemented their variations of the Duke model, while the era's definative dynasty--the San Antonio Spurs--implement an almost perfectly 50/50 blend of the Carolina and Duke philosophies.
To me, it really stems down to whether you play the matchup game, or the system game (which I apologize for taking so damn long in getting to). Is the NBA a game of matchups, or is it something more?
Its my hypothesis that the matchup game is greatly overrated by the national media. Case in point, the San Antonio Spurs. On a given night, they have likely 1-3 winning individual matchups in Duncan, Ginobili and Parker. But realistically, its between 1 and 2 matchups, with Parker and Ginobili being variable depending on the opposing backcourt.
In one way the Spurs win on the Carolina model, as their success is so heavily predicated on the staple matchup they'll always win, in the great Tim Duncan. On the otherhand, what Duncan's matchup advantage means to the whole, and how it anchors a highly sophisticated and egalitarian system (both offensively and defensively) is a clear indicator of the Coach K model of success.
A big part of what's making the NBA so interesting this year is the overlap point in the Ven Diagram where so many different kinds of teams and players are existing and succeeding at the same time. This of course, includes the aforementioned Duke-Carolina binary.
I'll be honest, I'm not sure I have a definative answer to the question posed at the beginning of this post. And its funny because the Carolina model at the collegic level isn't truly realized until players hit their physical and mental basketball primes, which normally happens in the pros. Mismatches aren't taken advantage of at the college level, as they are in the pro game. But the true effects, and measurable implications of the matchup game, I still believe to be truly overrated. Weakside/help defense is far too sophisticated today, to let a pure Carolinan dominate all the way to a Larry O'Brien trophy.
Maybe there is no true answer, or maybe it all depends on personnel. That being said, the world is still waiting to hear from LeBron James and his career destiny.
Friday, March 14, 2008
The Economist's PHX v. GS
The talking heads have been calling Golden State the new Phoenix. High-velocity offenses, and buckets of points on the scoreboard are what they share ostensibly. Both attacks love to get shots up quickly, and utilize floor spacing to predicate their attack (forget Shaq for a moment). But as Thursday night’s game illustrated, a strong dichotomy exists between these two offensive juggernauts. One with laden with metaphors that run as deep as the binary between American and international socio-cultural paradigms.
Indeed, both teams love scoring points in bunches. But Mike Dantoni’s philosophy represents an international model for success, based on the collective sharing of resources (most significantly, Mr. Nash) where opportunities stem from the dynamic between players. It’s not that the model doesn’t foster the development of individual stars (Amare Stodamire’s development as a superstar is evidence), but the star is born inside an interconnectivity between the individual and the whole. Each player’s individual strengths and weaknesses facilitate the strengths and weaknesses of other players on the floor.
Golden State’s model echoes a predominantly American paradigm for success. The cultural emphasis on individuality reigns supreme in Don Nelson’s system, where the number one rule is quite literally, shoot. In a way, it’s the ultimate realization of 90’s era drive and kick basketball. Except in this case, there are 4 to 5 potential drivers/kickers on the floor at any given time—and the green light to shoot at any given point in a possession is taken to video-game extremes. You are the player you chose to become, and you are the only player capable of making that destiny occur.
At some level, it’s an example of pure, market-driven capitalism. In the Golden State economy, it’s in the best interest of the whole for the individual parts to think and act as if they were the most important element of the whole. Adam Smith realized.
To contrast that, the Phoenix economy is a carefully planned, balance between the individual and the whole. It has one central body (Steve Nash) who controls the flow of goods and services (the basketball) to the rest of the community. But to make a comparison to a Marxist state would be incorrect, with players like Mr. Stodamire being more significant contributors to the whole than other parts, a Boris Diaw for example. Phoenix represents a hybrid between pure market, and socialist ideals. It’s fitting for a team founded primarily on players from all around the world, including their coach who played professionally in Italy.
But can any of these archetypal realizations explain each team’s lack of legitimate title-contention?
In the case of Golden State, their defensive philosophy starkly contrasts their offensive one. It’s based on helping, hard double teams and quick defensive rotations to create turnovers; A strategically high-risk system, but one that is necessary against most teams in order to not get abused by mismatches. Ironically enough, they must play this way defensively because the choice they make offensively that makes them so potent at the other end of the floor. It’s almost as if Golden State’s defense is an extension of their offense. It exists, not to protect the rim or to prevent opponents from scoring, but to initiate their offense in the most efficient way possible.
In Phoenix’s case the addition of O’Neal makes them a considerably more traditional defensive squad. But with, or without Shaq on the floor Phoenix (because of their most potent offensive weapon, Steve Nash) must help and recover well in order to play competitive defense. In this sense, but Golden State and Phoenix’ fates are similar. The difference lies in the motive behind each defense.
Golden State uses defense to create turnovers and initiate their offense. Phoenix uses defense to control the tempo and establish a seamless symmetry between defense and offense —which can be either an advantage or problematic with the addition of on again and off again Shaquille O’Neal.
In the end, though—San Antonio’s mirrors Phoenix’s meta-basketball philosophy—and accomplishes it without the inherent risks Phoenix takes playing the game without a traditional interior presence. The addition of Shaquille O’Neal could help them defensively, but ironically, it only pushes the Suns closer to the Spurs from an X’s and O’s standpoint—a battle they would be hard-pressed to win in a best of 7 playoff series.
Golden State on the otherhand must rely on their ability to consistently score buckets at high percentages to even compete against the San Antonio’s, Utah’s and Las. At the defensive end, they’re helpless against teams who can efficiently move the ball around and can take care of the basketball. And to do that over the course of a 7 game series against some of the best defenses in the league is a daunting task.
Just ask Steve Nash.
Indeed, both teams love scoring points in bunches. But Mike Dantoni’s philosophy represents an international model for success, based on the collective sharing of resources (most significantly, Mr. Nash) where opportunities stem from the dynamic between players. It’s not that the model doesn’t foster the development of individual stars (Amare Stodamire’s development as a superstar is evidence), but the star is born inside an interconnectivity between the individual and the whole. Each player’s individual strengths and weaknesses facilitate the strengths and weaknesses of other players on the floor.
Golden State’s model echoes a predominantly American paradigm for success. The cultural emphasis on individuality reigns supreme in Don Nelson’s system, where the number one rule is quite literally, shoot. In a way, it’s the ultimate realization of 90’s era drive and kick basketball. Except in this case, there are 4 to 5 potential drivers/kickers on the floor at any given time—and the green light to shoot at any given point in a possession is taken to video-game extremes. You are the player you chose to become, and you are the only player capable of making that destiny occur.
At some level, it’s an example of pure, market-driven capitalism. In the Golden State economy, it’s in the best interest of the whole for the individual parts to think and act as if they were the most important element of the whole. Adam Smith realized.
To contrast that, the Phoenix economy is a carefully planned, balance between the individual and the whole. It has one central body (Steve Nash) who controls the flow of goods and services (the basketball) to the rest of the community. But to make a comparison to a Marxist state would be incorrect, with players like Mr. Stodamire being more significant contributors to the whole than other parts, a Boris Diaw for example. Phoenix represents a hybrid between pure market, and socialist ideals. It’s fitting for a team founded primarily on players from all around the world, including their coach who played professionally in Italy.
But can any of these archetypal realizations explain each team’s lack of legitimate title-contention?
In the case of Golden State, their defensive philosophy starkly contrasts their offensive one. It’s based on helping, hard double teams and quick defensive rotations to create turnovers; A strategically high-risk system, but one that is necessary against most teams in order to not get abused by mismatches. Ironically enough, they must play this way defensively because the choice they make offensively that makes them so potent at the other end of the floor. It’s almost as if Golden State’s defense is an extension of their offense. It exists, not to protect the rim or to prevent opponents from scoring, but to initiate their offense in the most efficient way possible.
In Phoenix’s case the addition of O’Neal makes them a considerably more traditional defensive squad. But with, or without Shaq on the floor Phoenix (because of their most potent offensive weapon, Steve Nash) must help and recover well in order to play competitive defense. In this sense, but Golden State and Phoenix’ fates are similar. The difference lies in the motive behind each defense.
Golden State uses defense to create turnovers and initiate their offense. Phoenix uses defense to control the tempo and establish a seamless symmetry between defense and offense —which can be either an advantage or problematic with the addition of on again and off again Shaquille O’Neal.
In the end, though—San Antonio’s mirrors Phoenix’s meta-basketball philosophy—and accomplishes it without the inherent risks Phoenix takes playing the game without a traditional interior presence. The addition of Shaquille O’Neal could help them defensively, but ironically, it only pushes the Suns closer to the Spurs from an X’s and O’s standpoint—a battle they would be hard-pressed to win in a best of 7 playoff series.
Golden State on the otherhand must rely on their ability to consistently score buckets at high percentages to even compete against the San Antonio’s, Utah’s and Las. At the defensive end, they’re helpless against teams who can efficiently move the ball around and can take care of the basketball. And to do that over the course of a 7 game series against some of the best defenses in the league is a daunting task.
Just ask Steve Nash.
Numero Otto
As Kobe Bryant & the Lakers rise to the top of the Western Conference, here's a commercial from the early part of his career. It highlights Kobe Bryant the cosmopolitan--or maybe, simply Kobe Bryant--the Italian.
The great sadness of Kobe's marketing maturation process is that his Italian-connection has been lost or over-looked. His Afro-centricity and his Jordan-appeal has overtook the reality that much of his youth was spent growing up in Italy, and had an influence on both his game and his image.
Here's an homage to Kobe--the old, youthful quasi-afro, Italian speaking #8.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
World Perks
How the NBA can use existing infrastructures to improve the NBA and take it to the next level.
In recent times, it has become evident David Stern wants to go international and expand NBA franchises into Europe. It's a bold move for an American sports infrastructure that rarely ventures outside of its own borders--and when its does, only our Canadian neighbors get in on the action. But the NBA has made incredible strides since the early 80's to promote its sport and its league across the Ocean (or into Central and South America). Global initiatives at both capitalistic and humanitarian levels involving the Association have proven successful in globalizing the sport of basketball and the influx of foreign talent is proof.
David Stern wants a team in England. In Spain, in Italy, Greece and France. His vision is to concentrate all the greatest talent in the world into one league, and execute it at a geographically global level. Here's the problem with that.
To do this, Stern could learn a lot from the way soccer--the world's most popular sport-- is organized. Here's how the NBA could and in my opinion, should operate its global business.
In recent times, it has become evident David Stern wants to go international and expand NBA franchises into Europe. It's a bold move for an American sports infrastructure that rarely ventures outside of its own borders--and when its does, only our Canadian neighbors get in on the action. But the NBA has made incredible strides since the early 80's to promote its sport and its league across the Ocean (or into Central and South America). Global initiatives at both capitalistic and humanitarian levels involving the Association have proven successful in globalizing the sport of basketball and the influx of foreign talent is proof.
David Stern wants a team in England. In Spain, in Italy, Greece and France. His vision is to concentrate all the greatest talent in the world into one league, and execute it at a geographically global level. Here's the problem with that.
- Expansion thins talent. The NBA has already suffered a great deal from expansion throughout much of the Jordan and post-Jordan era, and is only now recovering. To further water-down the level of competition would an egregious mistake. The beauty of the NBA lies in the fact that it is the only truly global professional sports league that concentrates all the best talent in the world into a single league.
- To create a viable basketball infrastructure overseas takes an extraordinary amount of capital. It's costly, and mildly risky at many different levels, including a regular season that would require multiple trips overseas.
To do this, Stern could learn a lot from the way soccer--the world's most popular sport-- is organized. Here's how the NBA could and in my opinion, should operate its global business.
- Establish day-to-day relationships with heads of the various Series A leagues across the world.
- Build an agreement to allow the fluid movement of players across leagues, most importantly between the NBA and other leagues around the world. This more than anything is a contractual agreement, setting terms for players'/owners' fiscal responsibilities when players move.
- Develop NBA International television made widely availible to common sports fans here in America to watch basketball abroad.
- The NBA continues to expand its popularity without having to dilute the level of competition.
- A guarentee that the NBA has all the greatest players in the world--no hidden gems gone undiscovered.
- Basketball's popularity via media expansion allows fans in America to become interested in, and grow leagues overseas. The financial outcomes only improve local and global economies of scale.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Obama-Mutombo 2008
Throughout his career, Dikembe Mutombo Mukamba Jean-Jacques Wamutombo has excelled off the court as well as any player in the history of the National Basketball Association. In fact, ascribing the colloquialism of “off the court” to his significant contributions to the betterment of the human condition is like calling Kareem Abdul-Jabbar’s skyhook an “on the court” achievement.
Mutombo has long been the NBA’s gregarious African ambassador, defined on the court by his mildly over mechanical basketball idiosyncrasies and his towering Congolese defense of the paint. And while Mutombo’s legacy in the game of basketball will likely be a defensive one (an unfortunate typecast—during the early to mid 90’s Dikembe was a highly productive offensive player) he is a progressive, proactive agent of change in his humanitarian/diplomatic efforts in the continent of Africa (mostly in his native DRC) and elsewhere both domestically and internationally.
He started the Dikembe Mutombo Foundation to aid the Democratic Republic of Congo. He funded the 1996 Zaire Women’s national basketball team in their trip to the Olympic Games in Atlanta...is a spokesperson for CARE and works under the United Nations development program. But Mutombo’s magnum opus is the Biamba Marie Mutombo hospital to which he has donated a total of $18 million of his own money towards the construction of the $29 million hospital in the DEC. The hospital opened in Feburary of 2007.
Additionally, Mutombo was a double major with degrees in Linguistics and Diplomacy from Georgetown University, one of the finest institutions of higher learning in the country and the world.
Mr. Mutombo's body of work is enough to fill even his giant 7'2" frame. Both on, and off the court. So as the Houston Rockets soar to incredible heights, and Mutombo is able to contribute to the Rockets' quest for an unthinkable playoff run without the great Yao Ming--remember, that Dikembe Mutombo's career is far from over. He has been a faithful steward to the human condition--a man that exemplifies excellence, kindness and the best humans can be.
After watching the series finale of a show, so real in its ability to capture the day-in, day-out struggle that plauges our American world, and that beyond--I can only hope, that the campaign that prides itself on hope, might actually deliver some of it. Even if it costs us a technical.
Mutombo has long been the NBA’s gregarious African ambassador, defined on the court by his mildly over mechanical basketball idiosyncrasies and his towering Congolese defense of the paint. And while Mutombo’s legacy in the game of basketball will likely be a defensive one (an unfortunate typecast—during the early to mid 90’s Dikembe was a highly productive offensive player) he is a progressive, proactive agent of change in his humanitarian/diplomatic efforts in the continent of Africa (mostly in his native DRC) and elsewhere both domestically and internationally.
He started the Dikembe Mutombo Foundation to aid the Democratic Republic of Congo. He funded the 1996 Zaire Women’s national basketball team in their trip to the Olympic Games in Atlanta...is a spokesperson for CARE and works under the United Nations development program. But Mutombo’s magnum opus is the Biamba Marie Mutombo hospital to which he has donated a total of $18 million of his own money towards the construction of the $29 million hospital in the DEC. The hospital opened in Feburary of 2007.
Additionally, Mutombo was a double major with degrees in Linguistics and Diplomacy from Georgetown University, one of the finest institutions of higher learning in the country and the world.
Mr. Mutombo's body of work is enough to fill even his giant 7'2" frame. Both on, and off the court. So as the Houston Rockets soar to incredible heights, and Mutombo is able to contribute to the Rockets' quest for an unthinkable playoff run without the great Yao Ming--remember, that Dikembe Mutombo's career is far from over. He has been a faithful steward to the human condition--a man that exemplifies excellence, kindness and the best humans can be.
After watching the series finale of a show, so real in its ability to capture the day-in, day-out struggle that plauges our American world, and that beyond--I can only hope, that the campaign that prides itself on hope, might actually deliver some of it. Even if it costs us a technical.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Friday Adverball
I'm starting a tradition. Every Friday is basketball commercial Friday. Usually in the ad industry, indepth, public criticism is looked down upon just because it is such a subjective industry, but my take isn't so much on advertising than it is basketball. I hope.
This late 90's Nike :30 spot is an underrated classic for me. Not just because it's a cool idea for one guy to be taking on an entire community in a game of basketball--but because it represents the respective careers of Duncan and Garnett in a quick, brilliant and entertaining way.
In the spot, Garnett is at his usual, carrying the burden for his entire team, which plays out as metaphor in the ad as Garnett having no teammates. He's playing 1 on 4, 5, 15 and 20. And yet he continues to man his ship, and continue to be miraculously dominating. Garnett perseveres, because he has the heart the size of a blue whale. But he is the classically over-burdened hero--the real life Wolverine of our generation. Ironic, a guy playing for a namesake: the Timberwolves (a pack animal), he has no pack worthy of running with and for him. So naturally, Tim Duncan--the supreme manifestation of a superstar driven to greatness, predicated from his Zen-like understanding of the team concept arrives to compete against him.
Though he never played for him, Tim Duncan was the embodiment of John Wooden's perfect player. Fundamentally perfect, a brilliant team player Duncan dominated only when necessary and else wise facilitating the offense at his own methodical pace. His whole game was based on efficiency and out thinking opponents. Yes, he was an incredible athlete, but that's not what made him an incredible player. This battle is not just Kevin Garnett vs. Tim Duncan. It's a metaphor for heart vs. mind.
Duncan makes his classic hero entrance from the crowd moving from the back to the front, to check the ball to the mighty Ronin Warior. And Garnett's face suddenly changes. "A worthy opponent," it says. Cut to Duncan: "More worthy than you think."
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Fuzzy Math: The Vince Carter Legacy
In the aftermath of the first two Michael Jordan retirements, the national media got caught up in a cruel game that contributed significantly to demise of NBA (with the obvious exception of his first return). The game was simple:
The second highly problematic aspect of the Space Jam Eras (1993-1995 & 1998-2003) in American sports journalism is the fact that there were no repercussions for guessing incorrectly, or no limit to how many times you could guess. Subsequently, players like Harold Miner, Jerry Stackhouse or Latrell Spreewell were compared to or dubbed, "the next Mike."
This massively inflated the value of the second coming label, accomplished only disappointment-- further fostering a growing dis-interest in the NBA by the common sports fan--and irrevocably destroyed the career of a player whos fan base, and public perception has taken approval dips only George W. Bush can relate to.
Yes, Vince Carter.
There were others, notably Kobe Bryant whose Next Jordan label was taken more seriously than the others--but Vince Carter seemed to rise to the occassion the right way, at exactly the right time. His dunks were magnificent (as they still are), his scoring ability reminded so many people of his Airness--and oh yes, he was a Tarheel. But what happened? Why has a majority of Vince Carter's prime been marginalized with convictions of softness, and disappointment?
Take a look at his career numbers. Then, take a look at the remarkably similar career of Ray Allen during the same era. Allen has enjoyed relative anonymity relative to other stars in the era, but has All-Star appearances and one or two good playoff runs just like Vince Carter. Another player, with another similar career and style of play Paul Pierce.
Each of these players have had similar levels success in terms of winning, and in team support. Ray Allen had the Big 3 in Milwaukee, Paul Pierce with Antoine Walker, and Vince Carter with Jason Kidd and Richard Jefferson. The difference in each of these players' respective careers has essentially been mainstream public perception. In reality, Vince Carter doesn't possess the combination of talent and mental discipline to come close to Michael Jordan in the big picture. But neither has any player (with the exception of Kobe Bryant) who has ever been compared to Michael Jordan. The difference has been the inability to release the Jordan curse from his own destiny.
I will admit, there are 2 things Vince Carter does not do well that contribute to the marginalization of his legacy: play through injury, and attack in big games and big moments. But, let's be fair. He's not the only one who has had trouble with these criteria. And that includes his aforementioned contemporaries.
The true legacy of Vince Carter? A supremely gifted offensive talent, who is as creative a scorer and finisher as there ever has been. Injury has hurt his career, but he's never had the right types of players with him to succeed at a championship level. A player many fans didn't allow themselves to enjoy. I can't say I root for Vince Carter. I did when he was in Toronto-- I guess we'll always have You Tube.
- First media publication to successfully anoint the next Michael Jordan correctly, wins.
The second highly problematic aspect of the Space Jam Eras (1993-1995 & 1998-2003) in American sports journalism is the fact that there were no repercussions for guessing incorrectly, or no limit to how many times you could guess. Subsequently, players like Harold Miner, Jerry Stackhouse or Latrell Spreewell were compared to or dubbed, "the next Mike."
This massively inflated the value of the second coming label, accomplished only disappointment-- further fostering a growing dis-interest in the NBA by the common sports fan--and irrevocably destroyed the career of a player whos fan base, and public perception has taken approval dips only George W. Bush can relate to.
Yes, Vince Carter.
There were others, notably Kobe Bryant whose Next Jordan label was taken more seriously than the others--but Vince Carter seemed to rise to the occassion the right way, at exactly the right time. His dunks were magnificent (as they still are), his scoring ability reminded so many people of his Airness--and oh yes, he was a Tarheel. But what happened? Why has a majority of Vince Carter's prime been marginalized with convictions of softness, and disappointment?
Take a look at his career numbers. Then, take a look at the remarkably similar career of Ray Allen during the same era. Allen has enjoyed relative anonymity relative to other stars in the era, but has All-Star appearances and one or two good playoff runs just like Vince Carter. Another player, with another similar career and style of play Paul Pierce.
Each of these players have had similar levels success in terms of winning, and in team support. Ray Allen had the Big 3 in Milwaukee, Paul Pierce with Antoine Walker, and Vince Carter with Jason Kidd and Richard Jefferson. The difference in each of these players' respective careers has essentially been mainstream public perception. In reality, Vince Carter doesn't possess the combination of talent and mental discipline to come close to Michael Jordan in the big picture. But neither has any player (with the exception of Kobe Bryant) who has ever been compared to Michael Jordan. The difference has been the inability to release the Jordan curse from his own destiny.
I will admit, there are 2 things Vince Carter does not do well that contribute to the marginalization of his legacy: play through injury, and attack in big games and big moments. But, let's be fair. He's not the only one who has had trouble with these criteria. And that includes his aforementioned contemporaries.
The true legacy of Vince Carter? A supremely gifted offensive talent, who is as creative a scorer and finisher as there ever has been. Injury has hurt his career, but he's never had the right types of players with him to succeed at a championship level. A player many fans didn't allow themselves to enjoy. I can't say I root for Vince Carter. I did when he was in Toronto-- I guess we'll always have You Tube.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
A Farewell to Arms
The fabled career of the Gunslinger is officially over. After 17 years in the NFL, Brett Favre: Green Bay Packer and football immortal announced yesterday, his retirement from the game. Favre was a mythic figure--his passion, his skill, and his heart were Mufasian. And the boyish sense of adventure, the thrill-seeking, backyard football mentality which articulated his Gun Slinger approach to the game--never conforming to proper mechanics, or fundamentally sound quarterback decision making, Favre played the game in his own, imperfect, beautiful way.
Rarely, if ever has there been such a figure in the context of modern sports. Clint Eastwood meets Tom Sawyer, and on the hallowed grounds of Lambeu Field no less. And never has such an athlete captured the imagination of sports fans at such an enormous scope. Regardless of who you are, you at very least respect Brett Favre—most of us, including myself love him in that crazy sacred connection true American sports fans have with athletes.
But is Favre completely without precedent? Or does he have a parallel in the sport of basketball? It’s difficult to assess given the NFL’s considerable popularity advantage over the NBA—but is there a player today who both plays with the attitude of the Gunslinger, and means as much to his respective game as Favre? Let’s examine.
(An aside. Larry Bird in his own time was Brett Favre. Immensely popular, gifted, spirited and a symbol of integrity to his communities in Boston, Indiana and the game of basketball, Bird played with the same kind of playground arrogance and recklessness that made Favre so great. They were both from rural communities, and they both adopted their professional cities well, and both were revered by the sports world. Upon further thought, Charles Barkley is in this category as well. A genuine, shoot from the hip character who most everyone agrees they can love. Barkley is also from the south and had a highly unconventional game—never before was there a guy on the verge of the seriously chubby label, but dominating with such great speed and athleticism.)
Kevin Garnett is the first candidate that comes to mind because of his passion, his intensity and his unalterable basketball bushido. A young Kevin Garnett, who they used to call The Kid, playing for fun as much as he played to win, the Favre label might fit. But since the Kid has grown up into The Big Ticket, Garnett has lost the innocence that Favre maintained remarkably throughout his 17 years of play. Garnett has become defined by his intensity over anything else and is more of a Samurai than he is a Gunslinger.
Allen Iverson is another guy who qualifies under the heart category, and his play on the court does defy convention, much like Favre’s did. But AI doesn’t resonate with the culture at large the same way #4 did.
In their universal appeal, both LeBron and Dwayne can match Favre—but they both seem too God-like, too imperfect for a Favre metaphor. Their relationship with the media is too professional, and nowhere near as candid as Favre.
Dwight Howard has the fun-loving spirit that almost perfectly matches Favre’s demeanor, He’s incredibly talented, but is he unconventional enough? My radar points to no.
And so this brings up the only remaining logical candidate: The incomparable Steve Nash of course. Both Favre and Nash harness the power of irrational play making, and a gambler’s attitude. Both have excellent reports with the media, able to somehow always have them on their side, and not coincidentally, they are both the people’s champions—loved by many, respected by all.
The difference however lies in their intellectual make up. One is at heart a country boy, and a blue-collar maverick genius—a wholesome Slick Willy, if you will. The other is a cosmopolitan neo-progressive, who falls stylistically somewhere between Tony Hawk and Ronaldhino. One grew up playing American sports (I’m guessing Favre at some time in his life played baseball) and the other, truly global sports. To make a mathematical analogy, Favre is an square, Nash is square root.
It’s an interesting dichotomy that makes for a perfectly imperfect comparison. For a guy whose legend is based partly on his imperfection, and his honesty about it, maybe imperfection is just the right fit.
Rarely, if ever has there been such a figure in the context of modern sports. Clint Eastwood meets Tom Sawyer, and on the hallowed grounds of Lambeu Field no less. And never has such an athlete captured the imagination of sports fans at such an enormous scope. Regardless of who you are, you at very least respect Brett Favre—most of us, including myself love him in that crazy sacred connection true American sports fans have with athletes.
But is Favre completely without precedent? Or does he have a parallel in the sport of basketball? It’s difficult to assess given the NFL’s considerable popularity advantage over the NBA—but is there a player today who both plays with the attitude of the Gunslinger, and means as much to his respective game as Favre? Let’s examine.
(An aside. Larry Bird in his own time was Brett Favre. Immensely popular, gifted, spirited and a symbol of integrity to his communities in Boston, Indiana and the game of basketball, Bird played with the same kind of playground arrogance and recklessness that made Favre so great. They were both from rural communities, and they both adopted their professional cities well, and both were revered by the sports world. Upon further thought, Charles Barkley is in this category as well. A genuine, shoot from the hip character who most everyone agrees they can love. Barkley is also from the south and had a highly unconventional game—never before was there a guy on the verge of the seriously chubby label, but dominating with such great speed and athleticism.)
Kevin Garnett is the first candidate that comes to mind because of his passion, his intensity and his unalterable basketball bushido. A young Kevin Garnett, who they used to call The Kid, playing for fun as much as he played to win, the Favre label might fit. But since the Kid has grown up into The Big Ticket, Garnett has lost the innocence that Favre maintained remarkably throughout his 17 years of play. Garnett has become defined by his intensity over anything else and is more of a Samurai than he is a Gunslinger.
Allen Iverson is another guy who qualifies under the heart category, and his play on the court does defy convention, much like Favre’s did. But AI doesn’t resonate with the culture at large the same way #4 did.
In their universal appeal, both LeBron and Dwayne can match Favre—but they both seem too God-like, too imperfect for a Favre metaphor. Their relationship with the media is too professional, and nowhere near as candid as Favre.
Dwight Howard has the fun-loving spirit that almost perfectly matches Favre’s demeanor, He’s incredibly talented, but is he unconventional enough? My radar points to no.
And so this brings up the only remaining logical candidate: The incomparable Steve Nash of course. Both Favre and Nash harness the power of irrational play making, and a gambler’s attitude. Both have excellent reports with the media, able to somehow always have them on their side, and not coincidentally, they are both the people’s champions—loved by many, respected by all.
The difference however lies in their intellectual make up. One is at heart a country boy, and a blue-collar maverick genius—a wholesome Slick Willy, if you will. The other is a cosmopolitan neo-progressive, who falls stylistically somewhere between Tony Hawk and Ronaldhino. One grew up playing American sports (I’m guessing Favre at some time in his life played baseball) and the other, truly global sports. To make a mathematical analogy, Favre is an square, Nash is square root.
It’s an interesting dichotomy that makes for a perfectly imperfect comparison. For a guy whose legend is based partly on his imperfection, and his honesty about it, maybe imperfection is just the right fit.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Friends
An excerpt from a Detroit Free Press interview with Joe Dumars:
"The first day I walked in, they said very little. Very little. It's not like it is today. Today it's all hugs and handshakes. It's all love right now. Back in that day, it was about earning that respect. I recall the first time coming in it was kind of, 'Hey, what's up, young fella?' And kind of keep moving. It wasn't, 'Hey, let's go out to dinner.' And, you know, they weren't going to embrace you until they felt like you were in the foxhole with them. It was different then. It was totally different then it is right now."
The culture of NBA--and basketball in general has become one of niceness today. The three definitive players of "next" (LeBron, Dwayne and Carmelo) are all good friends--and they're certainly not the only ones. It's a distinct departure from a culture during the 80's and early 90's when the only friends you had on the floor were your teammates. Especially the stars.
In this modern era where basketball has become even more organized, at younger and younger ages--and centralized through the constant year-round play, so aptly manifested by AAU--there are no strangers by the time you get to the league. They've been replaced by friendships--and bad blood has become a rarity today.
My question is how this is influencing the product of the world's most competitive professional athletic organization. We've seen rule changes that have likely continued to foster this environment, as the physical, sometimes barbaric defensive practices of The Bad Boys in the 80's (which no doubt led to multiple brawls) have disappeared. You can't pound people just because they're in the lane anymore--and its hard to get away with a tough physical, intentional foul without serious repercussions from the league's front office.
Aside from the X's and O's changes, the rivalry between teams have become less emotionally charged. The Celtics and the Lakers hated each other, the same way the Pistons and the Bulls did, and the same way the Knicks and the Bulls did. It was war out there. Michael and Isaiah, Larry and Kareem, Bill Laimbeer and every other non-Piston in the league. Your teammates were the only ones you could share a smile or a laugh with.
Things done changed lately.
It's cracking jokes during pre-game warmups with tonight's opponent--or going out to dinner with them the night before. The "it's all good", "we all rich as God--ain't no reason to be hating" mentality seems to be the predominant philosophy. But with such little bad blood floating around, do the games mean as much to everyone? At some level, I have to believe the spirit of competition has become watered down in all of this peace-talk. You've got to believe that Dwayne Wade--in his horrendous situation now--isn't as depressed, or prone to talk back, get frustrated at a ref, or hit someone who just disrespected his team as he would have, had he played the game 15 years ago.
Here are what I believe to be the chief contributing factors:
- Free Agency. Guys get around more, and establish more friendships today than ever before.
- Money. The amount of money players are making today is astronomically higher than in previous eras. With the exception of a very few players, money doesn't come within light years of winning.
- Small World. People know each other if they're good these days. From a young age. Probably play together too.
- The Overactive Media. When there is bad blood between players or teams, it's blown to such spectacular proportions that it becomes a team-wide distraction. Hell, Shaq and Kobe were essentially forced to let bygones be bygones after the intense media scrutiny following their separation.
- Players are less willing to commit hard fouls.
- Less willing to be honest with the media.
- Players are more willing to move to other teams.
- Players are motivated more by fun, than they are for pride.
But I do believe it is a trade off. Because there is a great deal of entertainment value knowing that the Suns and the Spurs aren't the best of friends. That Amare Stodamire doesn't like Bruce Bowen. Or that Ron Artest is willing to break your ribs given the proper lose ball.
I guess it's not all gone. We just need a little more history to kick guys into caring a little too much.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
The Suns in Real Life
There are two different ways to (mildly irrationally) rush to judgment on the Shaq trade after Saturday nights shocking defeat to the hands of the lowley Philadelphia 76ers:
Has anyone stopped to look around for a second? To realize the rapid transformation the league, particularly the Western Conference that has taken place since the season began? The concentration of basketball capital is at unprecedented levels since the league expanded in the early 90's. The Gasol trade set into motion, a restructuring of philosophies in front offices across the league. Suddenly GM's and owners started remembered that they were in the entertainment business for once and started taking chances. After all, in the big picture this wasn't Obama-Hillary. This was fucking basketball. We're selling competition, not ourselves.
So here's the realization that slowly dawned upon my pea-sized sensibilities. There's another argument. The different one. The real one:
3. The Suns don't get significantly better or worse from the trade. What's changed isn't so much about what's happening with Dantoni and company in Phoenix-but the rest of the NBA.
If Marion is still there it doesn't matter. Because Gasol makes the Lakers too good. Because Manu Ginobili has elevated his game to superstar levles. Because Dallas has a new energy with Kidd running the break. And because Chris Paul and the New Orleans Hornets are for real. Maybe, last year--when a crooked ref destroyed the integrity of a series--and a Comissioner stuck to the politically correct move, instead of the right one--maybe last year was their best shot. Maybe the rest of the league, including a Boston, Detroit and maybe even Cleveland, caught up this year.
Even with Marion, the Suns didn't play well against the best teams in the league. They strutted out to the best record in the West by pounding on inferior teams in the Eastern Conference. But when they played against teams with a shot to taking home sweet Larry O', there's nothing there you'd write home to Mom about.
In the end, I think actual deal may end up a wash. They lose a 3-point, shooter and a guy who runs the floor and complements Nash's 90-foot game--but they gain a guy who has a defensive presence in the paint and someone who can take pressure off Amare Stodamire at both ends of the floor.
GM's are starting to figure out how to do their jobs. And just as the great Sacramento teams of the late 90's and early 00's ushered in early adopters to an egalitarian model of success but ultimately could never get over the hump-- perhaps Phoenix's fate is similar, as a natural extension of the multi-pronged high-powered offensive attack they invented. Remember, the Suns had Joe Johnson--they had Tim Thomas at his best, Kurt Thomas and they had Shawn Marion as the best player he will ever be.
The one wild card in all of this, though is Boris Diaw. It seems unlikely...I'll go as far as to say, it seems very unlikely. But if the Frenchman can miraculously find and pull out his offensive testicles, Phoenix could regain the X's and O's swagger that put them so close to the top just a couple years ago. The problem is, is that we've been waiting to see it for 2 seasons now, and we have yet to see the 2006 Boris Diaw. Too bad the time machine is in San Antonio.
- It was a bad trade. O'Neal has disrupted the identity of this Suns teams, and this makes them a significantly worse off team.
- We still have to wait and see. He's only playing in his second week since joining the team, and the move was a playoff move--designed to allow Phoenix to push the Suns over the top in the physical, defensive battle that the playoffs turn games into. We have to wait until the playoffs to truly get a fair assessment of the move.
Has anyone stopped to look around for a second? To realize the rapid transformation the league, particularly the Western Conference that has taken place since the season began? The concentration of basketball capital is at unprecedented levels since the league expanded in the early 90's. The Gasol trade set into motion, a restructuring of philosophies in front offices across the league. Suddenly GM's and owners started remembered that they were in the entertainment business for once and started taking chances. After all, in the big picture this wasn't Obama-Hillary. This was fucking basketball. We're selling competition, not ourselves.
So here's the realization that slowly dawned upon my pea-sized sensibilities. There's another argument. The different one. The real one:
3. The Suns don't get significantly better or worse from the trade. What's changed isn't so much about what's happening with Dantoni and company in Phoenix-but the rest of the NBA.
If Marion is still there it doesn't matter. Because Gasol makes the Lakers too good. Because Manu Ginobili has elevated his game to superstar levles. Because Dallas has a new energy with Kidd running the break. And because Chris Paul and the New Orleans Hornets are for real. Maybe, last year--when a crooked ref destroyed the integrity of a series--and a Comissioner stuck to the politically correct move, instead of the right one--maybe last year was their best shot. Maybe the rest of the league, including a Boston, Detroit and maybe even Cleveland, caught up this year.
Even with Marion, the Suns didn't play well against the best teams in the league. They strutted out to the best record in the West by pounding on inferior teams in the Eastern Conference. But when they played against teams with a shot to taking home sweet Larry O', there's nothing there you'd write home to Mom about.
In the end, I think actual deal may end up a wash. They lose a 3-point, shooter and a guy who runs the floor and complements Nash's 90-foot game--but they gain a guy who has a defensive presence in the paint and someone who can take pressure off Amare Stodamire at both ends of the floor.
GM's are starting to figure out how to do their jobs. And just as the great Sacramento teams of the late 90's and early 00's ushered in early adopters to an egalitarian model of success but ultimately could never get over the hump-- perhaps Phoenix's fate is similar, as a natural extension of the multi-pronged high-powered offensive attack they invented. Remember, the Suns had Joe Johnson--they had Tim Thomas at his best, Kurt Thomas and they had Shawn Marion as the best player he will ever be.
The one wild card in all of this, though is Boris Diaw. It seems unlikely...I'll go as far as to say, it seems very unlikely. But if the Frenchman can miraculously find and pull out his offensive testicles, Phoenix could regain the X's and O's swagger that put them so close to the top just a couple years ago. The problem is, is that we've been waiting to see it for 2 seasons now, and we have yet to see the 2006 Boris Diaw. Too bad the time machine is in San Antonio.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Free Willy
I'll give ESPN minor credit where it's due. At least they know to integrate the nerds and the jocks (unlike the NFL on NBC). But, William Theodore Walton III, is neither. Too subjective to be a nerd, too much of a Neil Young fan to be a jock, Bill Walton doesn't fit cleanly into any of the neat little cookie-cutter archetypes ESPN (also called "the Good Folks at Disney") have created for the typical half-ass American sports fan.
Part flower child, part satirist, part historian and part babbling fool—Big Red is everything you could ever hope for in a sports personality. When he's in the booth.
The genius of Walton, shines through when he's able to react to an inter subjective reality (in our case, a basketball game) both the viewer and the self-described "smoking crater" that is Bill Walton's brain, share. In a sense, it's the beauty of improvisation. Something happens, and you react to it in your own individual way. And the way people react--the way people improvise is an accumulation of their life experiences, and the unique genetic characteristics that have predisposed them to have those experiences in the manner they did.
Walton is a classical orator, of grand and outlandish proportions. His life, his tastes, his attitudes are 1,000 books apart from his co-workers and contemporaries. No, its not unusual that someone is well read. Nor is it unusual that that same person, also is a spirited follower of rock bands from the 60s and 70s. It's not unusual that they might also be environmentally conscious, or have the gift of the gab. But it is unusual, that this same person was once a professional basketball player. In fact, not just a professional basketball player, but one of the greatest basketball players to ever play. Add onto that, the fact that he struggled mightily with a speech impediment for a good portion of his life and you've got the potential for one very interesting reactionary.
Just listen to this call, during Boris Diaw's breakout year with the Phoenix Suns. It's a prime example of what Walton--and what no one else can bring to the table. You can hear the sense of ironic anticipation Mike Tirico's voice from the word "yeah?" It's almost as if he's thinking: "God, what is he going to say now," but at the same time thinking "God, I can't wait to hear what he's going to say!"
Walton is a true Trailblazer--as he was quite literally, metaphorically on the basketball court and today as a color commentator. He worked best with the snappy, blunt but intelligent nature of Steve "Snapper" Jones, while they were at NBC, but consistently gave people a reason to watch at ESPN when he still did color. Walton can be very right, and astute and he can also be very wrong, and preposterous. But whatever he's saying--it's entertaining. It gets you to react one way or another. His style is remarkably defined and progressive, yet he's rooted staunchly in traditional beliefs instilled upon him by his father, and the great John Wooden. He is self-deprecating, and gracious. He makes you wonder if he seriously believes what he is saying at times--a characteristic I absolutely adore, as he burns down antiquated notions of what is proper funny in sports commentary, and what is not. But most of all he doesn't think about basketball as just basketball. To Bill Walton, basketball is metaphor, for life. It's sacred and fundamental to the wayward journey that is life.
And that's precisely why he deserves to call the games. Because that's where Walton is at his finest. In the studio, alongside the obnoxious personality of Stuart Scott, and the disturbing (albeit hilarious) sensationalism that is Stephen A. Smith, Walton is patronized, and prostituted as "that crazy white guy" on the set. Very little could be further from the truth--Walton is of course so much richer than just crazy (he's brilliant, incredibly thick and crazy--the rarest of combinations). But there's no chemistry when everything becomes so scripted and so rehearsed.
I want free form Bill Walton. That old, crazy, intellectual red-headed octopus of a Trailblazer. I want that Bill Walton.
Part flower child, part satirist, part historian and part babbling fool—Big Red is everything you could ever hope for in a sports personality. When he's in the booth.
The genius of Walton, shines through when he's able to react to an inter subjective reality (in our case, a basketball game) both the viewer and the self-described "smoking crater" that is Bill Walton's brain, share. In a sense, it's the beauty of improvisation. Something happens, and you react to it in your own individual way. And the way people react--the way people improvise is an accumulation of their life experiences, and the unique genetic characteristics that have predisposed them to have those experiences in the manner they did.
Walton is a classical orator, of grand and outlandish proportions. His life, his tastes, his attitudes are 1,000 books apart from his co-workers and contemporaries. No, its not unusual that someone is well read. Nor is it unusual that that same person, also is a spirited follower of rock bands from the 60s and 70s. It's not unusual that they might also be environmentally conscious, or have the gift of the gab. But it is unusual, that this same person was once a professional basketball player. In fact, not just a professional basketball player, but one of the greatest basketball players to ever play. Add onto that, the fact that he struggled mightily with a speech impediment for a good portion of his life and you've got the potential for one very interesting reactionary.
Just listen to this call, during Boris Diaw's breakout year with the Phoenix Suns. It's a prime example of what Walton--and what no one else can bring to the table. You can hear the sense of ironic anticipation Mike Tirico's voice from the word "yeah?" It's almost as if he's thinking: "God, what is he going to say now," but at the same time thinking "God, I can't wait to hear what he's going to say!"
Walton is a true Trailblazer--as he was quite literally, metaphorically on the basketball court and today as a color commentator. He worked best with the snappy, blunt but intelligent nature of Steve "Snapper" Jones, while they were at NBC, but consistently gave people a reason to watch at ESPN when he still did color. Walton can be very right, and astute and he can also be very wrong, and preposterous. But whatever he's saying--it's entertaining. It gets you to react one way or another. His style is remarkably defined and progressive, yet he's rooted staunchly in traditional beliefs instilled upon him by his father, and the great John Wooden. He is self-deprecating, and gracious. He makes you wonder if he seriously believes what he is saying at times--a characteristic I absolutely adore, as he burns down antiquated notions of what is proper funny in sports commentary, and what is not. But most of all he doesn't think about basketball as just basketball. To Bill Walton, basketball is metaphor, for life. It's sacred and fundamental to the wayward journey that is life.
And that's precisely why he deserves to call the games. Because that's where Walton is at his finest. In the studio, alongside the obnoxious personality of Stuart Scott, and the disturbing (albeit hilarious) sensationalism that is Stephen A. Smith, Walton is patronized, and prostituted as "that crazy white guy" on the set. Very little could be further from the truth--Walton is of course so much richer than just crazy (he's brilliant, incredibly thick and crazy--the rarest of combinations). But there's no chemistry when everything becomes so scripted and so rehearsed.
I want free form Bill Walton. That old, crazy, intellectual red-headed octopus of a Trailblazer. I want that Bill Walton.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
The Celtics-Lakers that Never Happened
Sunday afternoon, the pundits were buzzing again. Detroit's "shocking" blowout of the Phoneix Suns was an unexpected result in what figured to be a competitive, potential preview of the 2008 NBA Finals.
But to anyone who has followed the Detroit organization since President of Basketball Operations Joe Dumars' re-institution of Detroit as an NBA powerhouse it's old hat by now. For most of the Tim Duncan era, Detroit has remained at or near the top of the Eastern Conference, evident in their five consecutive trips to the Eastern Conference Finals. But what gives? Why only 1 title, and 2 trips to the Finals?
Its my theory (among other smaller reasons) that Detroit's hubristic attitude--which is also their greatest strength--has consistently caught them off guard in the most crucial of moments during their runs at the Larry O'Brien trophy (with the exception of the 2004 World Championship).
Think about Detroit's attitude as a Marxist adaptation of Michael Jordan's sense of individual superiority. The Pistons have always known they've had the talent, and the teamwork to compete with anyone--including the big bad Western Conference, but because the team's intensity generator is not centralized under one individual player, it becomes lazy, hard to control and falls prey to the classic "play to the level of the competition" archetype.
But today's post isn't about picking apart the specific ins and outs of the Bad Boys II era, it's about a broader storyline--one that has quietly defined the course of the post-Jordan NBA. It's about the great NBA rivalry that never really happened.
It's about the Spurs-Pistons rivarly that almost defined its era--but didn't.
Quick flashback: Game 5 of the '05 Finals, overtime. The series is tied at two games even, and Detroit has a 2-point lead with less than 10 seconds remaining in overtime. A victory gives would Detroit a pivitol 3-2 lead over San Antonio, as they would need to win only 1 of the 2 remaining games of the series in San Antonio to sucessfully defend their title in 2004. San Antonio inbounds the ball to Manu Ginobili who is immediatley trapped in the corner by Rasheed Wallace. The only problem...Wallace leaves Robert Horry--arguably the most influential last second shooter in NBA playoff history. Ginobili makes the pass to Horry the elbow and rest is history.
This is a bonehead move. No, no...this is the bonehead move. Of the series, the playoffs, and maybe of the entire era. Rasheed Wallace's inexcusable abandonment of Robert "Big Shot Bob" Horry--a man who has historically killed teams time after time by drilling huge 3's in huge games was was the equivilant of the Zidane headbutt in the 2007 World Cup.The Pistons rallied to win game 6 in San Antonio (an incredible feat in itself considering San Antonio's home record that season) decisivley--but didn't have enough to win a game 7, at the SBC Center. Of course, it's grand conjecture to say that if Wallace makes the right play and stay on Horry, the Pistons go up 3-2, head to San Antonio and win the series in 6 games. But the reality is, this wasn't the only blatanly blown opportunity to take home hardware at the end of the season.
In the follwing season Detroit blazed through the regular season owning everyone, including the Spurs. They were on a mission to claim what was rightfuly theres. Except somewhere, a team that had flourished offensively since Flip Saunders became coach, unexplicably lost their shooting touch after game 2 of the Eastern Conference divisional playoffs against LeBron James and the Cleveland Cavs. The Cavs rallied from being outright dominated in games 1 and 2 to win the next 3 games. Detroit eventually won the series in seven games, but the mystic around the team on a mission was over. And Miami disposed of the Pistons relativley easly in 6 games.
The following season, Ben Wallace left, but the Pistons kept winning. But once again a playoff stumble for the favorites happened again. This time, their defense allowed LeBron James to essentially drop 30 straight points, while their anemic pressure cooker offense failed them again and another team that wasn't supposed to, got to the promise land thru Detroit.
Here's the point of all this historical exposition: Detroit is the only team other than Dallas (who was robbed in '06) and the Shaq-Kobe-Phil Lakers that legitametley pushed San Antonio to the limit. The only team with a real shot of beating San Antonio in a 7-game series. Do that in the East, and you're the bonified foil to Tim Duncan and his masterful run at defining the Post-Jordan context.
But it never happened. Detroit failed--in maddening collapses/departures from the majority of their regular and post-season performance--time and time again. Even in 2003, when New Jersey embarassed them in the Conference finals, Detroit was clearly the better team.
Had Detroit been able to keep some semblence of the championship form in any number of the years they simply collapsed in one form or another, it wouldn't be implaussable to believe that they would have met up with San Antonio on multiple occassions. Perhaps even beating them once or twice. In that sense, Rasheed Wallace's misplay is enormous. Not just in the context of the series--but in the way we talk about the era. Do the Spurs still become a dynasty? Is Tim Duncan still clearly the most important, and significant player of his time? Or would the era be defined as two equally matched foes battling beautifully in an egalitarian battle for basketball supreamacy in the basketball universe?
I suppose we can only dream.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
The Speculative Geopolitical Implications of LeBron James and Dwight Howard
NBA Speculative Theory: If Dwight Howard and LeBron James had existed (as they are now) in ancient times, when the Roman Empire imported people from across the globe to participate in gladiator battles inside the Coliseum--and Dwight Howard and LeBron James were thrown into the Coliseum, the fate of the African continent and its people would have been drastically different.
- Powerful black military leaders and warriors would gain respect and rise thru the rank and file of the Holy Roman Empire.International respect and revere for the black phenotype spreads through the world, infiltrating and destroying notions of black inferiority in Western Europe.
- Pockets of West African people spread throughout the whole of Europe and Central Asia exist after the Roman Empire dissolves.Europeans integrate into African civilizations in Africa during the Middle Ages.Worldview of blacks as inferior never gains popular sentiment in the world.
- Othello is never written.
- The trans-Atlantic slave trade barely happens.The industrial revolution trickles into Africa.Africa takes part, as much as it becomes a victim of the age of emperialism.The geopolitical landscape of the 20th and 21st Century is very different. Governmental corruption in Africa is no greater than it is in other nations of the industrialized world. Nations left relativley unscathed in the aftermath of WWII rise to economic prominence comprable to economies from Switzerland to China.
- Jazz never dies.Hip hop becomes a very different music--centered around strong, traditional Afro-Centric beats.
- African nations win the World Cup routinely.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
The Difference between Porn Stars & Post Players
I used to call him the German pornstar. But when Dirk Nowitzki, (with the help of an emerging Steve Nash and Michael Finley), defeated the Utah Jazz in the '01 divisional playoff series, I stopped. After a stellar sophomore season, the 7" German import instantly became one of my favorite players in the NBA. Young, international and tooled with a dangerous, and completely unprecedented offensive arsenal, Dirk Nowitzki was no longer in the shadows of one, Dirk Diggler.
His floor game reminded us of Larry Legend. Incredibly accurate perimeter shooting, unlimited range, and oh, that up and under. He had a runner, he could pass and make decisions, he could face you up and blow by you, his shot was un-blockable--and yeah, he was seven feet tall.
Physically, Dirk Nowtizki was a mutant version of Larry Bird. His rebounding was improving, his defense became tolerable and best yet, he played with Steve Nash and Michael Finley. "The Dallas Mavericks were good again." I remember thinking. Or maybe it was more like, "shit, the Dallas Mavericks are good."
The rest is well-documented. Dallas' Big Three rise to power in the ultra-competitive Western Conference. They compete hard against the Sacrementos, and the San Antonio's but in the end, the Big Legendary was too big and too legendary in the race to try and beat LA. Despite adding Laker-killer, Nick "the Quick" Van Exel, there just wasn't enough defense in Big D and eventually, the Big 3 broke apart (as did the Greatest Show on Court) and it was the end of an era.
But it wasn't the end of Dirk's run. Even after Steve Nash--the Boba Fett and cerebral cortex of the Dallas Mavericks left--Dallas continued and improved, their hard work culminating in a trip to the promise land in the 2006 NBA Finals. They led the series 2-0, but after the single worst stretch of officiating in NBA Playoff history, Dwyane Wade nearly single-handedly lifted the Heat past Dallas, and a long summer of disappointment ensued.
Again though, Dirk rose to the challenge as the Mavericks sprinted out to a historic 67-win season, where Nowitzki snatched the MVP trophy away from his old teammate, Steve Nash.
And then it happened.
In likely the greatest upset in the history of the NBA, the heavily favored Mavericks fell to the 8th-seeded Golden State Warriors in round one of the playoffs with much of the blame falling upon Nowtizki's shoulders. The pundits blamed Dirk. "Lack of toughness," they said. "European players are just too soft." "Get a post-game," they screamed, "for Christ's sake you were playing a team of guards."
Interesting. A guy who had spent his entire career pursuing excellence in the face of tremendous challenges--of loosing players, losing coaches, changing philosophies, adjusting to the American game--A seven time all-star, an MVP, a guy who doesn't complain, a guy who has played injured and sick in the most important games of his career is suddenly...soft?
The reality is, is that Dirk Nowitzki has evolved as much as any player and any star in the modern history of the NBA. From a rail-thin small forward who no coach knew what to do with, to an unstopable guard/bigman hybrid, to a bonified legitamate rebounder, medium-range post player, who can decently defend and now rarely shoots 3's--well, the reality is, Dirk Nowitzki is as tough as any player I've watched.
It's my theory, that just because a guy is tall, doesn't mean he needs to become a certain kind of player. Doesn't mean he needs to be able to be a power player. Because he never will be. Dirk has played his entire life a certain way. Some might say as a 3, others might say 4--but his footwork, his instinct, his skill set has made him the player he is. And in the game of basketball, I believe you play to your strengths. No matter the circumstances--you stay true to the player that has gotten you where you've gotten. And for Dirk Nowtizki, that's a hell of a place to be.
So while the jury is still very much out on Dallas' move to get Jason Kidd--maybe it's a good thing the Mavs traded a scorer, for a passer. Dirk could use the extra pass.
His floor game reminded us of Larry Legend. Incredibly accurate perimeter shooting, unlimited range, and oh, that up and under. He had a runner, he could pass and make decisions, he could face you up and blow by you, his shot was un-blockable--and yeah, he was seven feet tall.
Physically, Dirk Nowtizki was a mutant version of Larry Bird. His rebounding was improving, his defense became tolerable and best yet, he played with Steve Nash and Michael Finley. "The Dallas Mavericks were good again." I remember thinking. Or maybe it was more like, "shit, the Dallas Mavericks are good."
The rest is well-documented. Dallas' Big Three rise to power in the ultra-competitive Western Conference. They compete hard against the Sacrementos, and the San Antonio's but in the end, the Big Legendary was too big and too legendary in the race to try and beat LA. Despite adding Laker-killer, Nick "the Quick" Van Exel, there just wasn't enough defense in Big D and eventually, the Big 3 broke apart (as did the Greatest Show on Court) and it was the end of an era.
But it wasn't the end of Dirk's run. Even after Steve Nash--the Boba Fett and cerebral cortex of the Dallas Mavericks left--Dallas continued and improved, their hard work culminating in a trip to the promise land in the 2006 NBA Finals. They led the series 2-0, but after the single worst stretch of officiating in NBA Playoff history, Dwyane Wade nearly single-handedly lifted the Heat past Dallas, and a long summer of disappointment ensued.
Again though, Dirk rose to the challenge as the Mavericks sprinted out to a historic 67-win season, where Nowitzki snatched the MVP trophy away from his old teammate, Steve Nash.
And then it happened.
In likely the greatest upset in the history of the NBA, the heavily favored Mavericks fell to the 8th-seeded Golden State Warriors in round one of the playoffs with much of the blame falling upon Nowtizki's shoulders. The pundits blamed Dirk. "Lack of toughness," they said. "European players are just too soft." "Get a post-game," they screamed, "for Christ's sake you were playing a team of guards."
Interesting. A guy who had spent his entire career pursuing excellence in the face of tremendous challenges--of loosing players, losing coaches, changing philosophies, adjusting to the American game--A seven time all-star, an MVP, a guy who doesn't complain, a guy who has played injured and sick in the most important games of his career is suddenly...soft?
The reality is, is that Dirk Nowitzki has evolved as much as any player and any star in the modern history of the NBA. From a rail-thin small forward who no coach knew what to do with, to an unstopable guard/bigman hybrid, to a bonified legitamate rebounder, medium-range post player, who can decently defend and now rarely shoots 3's--well, the reality is, Dirk Nowitzki is as tough as any player I've watched.
It's my theory, that just because a guy is tall, doesn't mean he needs to become a certain kind of player. Doesn't mean he needs to be able to be a power player. Because he never will be. Dirk has played his entire life a certain way. Some might say as a 3, others might say 4--but his footwork, his instinct, his skill set has made him the player he is. And in the game of basketball, I believe you play to your strengths. No matter the circumstances--you stay true to the player that has gotten you where you've gotten. And for Dirk Nowtizki, that's a hell of a place to be.
So while the jury is still very much out on Dallas' move to get Jason Kidd--maybe it's a good thing the Mavs traded a scorer, for a passer. Dirk could use the extra pass.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Entering the Silver(stein) Age
Maybe all it took was a new outfit to transform the NBA from a league hanging in the balance, to a place where amazing happens.
Whatever it was, Bill Simmons has it right--because finally, the National Basketball Association is getting it right. The leauge is in a good place right now, despite what the critics have said, and despite what Max Bayram continues to say, the league is in a very good place.
Last night I watched the most anticipated game of the season yet, Shaquille O'Neal's debut with the Phoenix Suns in what was widely considered the most contraversial move of this extraordinarily tumultuous NBA season. What I ended up seeing, was a bigger picture--a mosaic infact, of the stars aligning (cynics might call it consolidating), and the NBA putting itself back into contention for the hearts and minds of the American sports fan. I saw Kobe Bryant reach Michael Jordan levels of domination, letting the game come to him, letting his teammates shine, and when the game called for it, making amazing happen. I saw Amare Stodamire return from another All-Star Weekend, energized, revved up, and ready to dance with destiny. And I saw Shaquille O'Neal--the legacy of Wilt, of Russell of Kareem, take his first step towards putting one last ring on his mighty gauntlet in the best game of the year so far.
After the game, I watched the Diesel in a press conference crack a few jokes. I watched a pathetic post-game analysis by Tim "just smart enough" Legler, then I hopped on to net only to realize the Spurs made a deal to grab Kurt Thomas from Seattle.
Boom.
Welcome to the Silver Age of NBA basketball. Or perhaps, as the ad nerds of the world might call it--the Goodby, Silverstein age of NBA basketball. Where Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce and Ray Allen happen. Where the Lakers' return to greatness happens. Where Chris Paul happens. Where Dwight Howard vs. Chris Bosch happens. Where LeBron James vs. the rest of the universe happens. Where Jason Kidd returns happens. And where the San Antonio Spurs still happen. It's a pretty good place.
Just ask New Orleans.
Whatever it was, Bill Simmons has it right--because finally, the National Basketball Association is getting it right. The leauge is in a good place right now, despite what the critics have said, and despite what Max Bayram continues to say, the league is in a very good place.
Last night I watched the most anticipated game of the season yet, Shaquille O'Neal's debut with the Phoenix Suns in what was widely considered the most contraversial move of this extraordinarily tumultuous NBA season. What I ended up seeing, was a bigger picture--a mosaic infact, of the stars aligning (cynics might call it consolidating), and the NBA putting itself back into contention for the hearts and minds of the American sports fan. I saw Kobe Bryant reach Michael Jordan levels of domination, letting the game come to him, letting his teammates shine, and when the game called for it, making amazing happen. I saw Amare Stodamire return from another All-Star Weekend, energized, revved up, and ready to dance with destiny. And I saw Shaquille O'Neal--the legacy of Wilt, of Russell of Kareem, take his first step towards putting one last ring on his mighty gauntlet in the best game of the year so far.
After the game, I watched the Diesel in a press conference crack a few jokes. I watched a pathetic post-game analysis by Tim "just smart enough" Legler, then I hopped on to net only to realize the Spurs made a deal to grab Kurt Thomas from Seattle.
Boom.
Welcome to the Silver Age of NBA basketball. Or perhaps, as the ad nerds of the world might call it--the Goodby, Silverstein age of NBA basketball. Where Kevin Garnett, Paul Pierce and Ray Allen happen. Where the Lakers' return to greatness happens. Where Chris Paul happens. Where Dwight Howard vs. Chris Bosch happens. Where LeBron James vs. the rest of the universe happens. Where Jason Kidd returns happens. And where the San Antonio Spurs still happen. It's a pretty good place.
Just ask New Orleans.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
A Tale of Two Genomes
In an age where classic positional archetypes are melting, here's a question that cuts to the core of the individual, and its role in soceity:
And let's take this question to its logical extent.
This excercise isn't intended to zero in on Iverson or any individual player, rather the question of what it is that makes good players, and what it is that makes good teams. I picked Iverson, and counterpart, Steve Nash because there's a crystal-clear dichotomy between the two players, despite their similar position of control on each of their respective teams--and Iverson in particular, because there is nothing he can't do physically that Steve Nash can.
With the exception of Iverson's trip to the 2001 NBA Finals, Nash has in large part achieved more team success over the course of his career--and it could be argued that he has achieved more individual success with his two MVP's to Iverson's one. But why?
There's little question Iverson is a significantly more gifted athlete. He is by all-accounts one of the greatest athletes in basketball history, which likely makes him one of the greatest athletes ever in any sport. A 6-foot marvel, who starred in basketball and football in higschool, blazing speed and quickness--and incredible vertical leap, and strength that goes consistently over-looked. His individual basketball talent is unquestionable. The coordination, the balance, the ball handling--the ability to get wherever he wants to, whenever he wants. His vision is always underrated, as noted by his career assist numbers.
So why is it, that Steve Nash--a player who in most tangible ways is subordinate to Iverson, has achieved more notable success than Iverson in his career?
The first and most obvious answer is their teams. Nash has been surrounded by better talent than Iverson for a good deal of his career in both Dallas and Phoenix. But why is it then, that Iverson and his Sixers achieved such great success in the 2000-2001 season reaching the NBA finals, a plateu Nash has never reached despite superior suporting talent to Iverson? Of course, there is the obvious disparity in competition between the East and West--but why did Iverson fail to consistently compete for the Eastern Conference crown year after year in Philadelphia?
Furthermore, Nash's immediate impact in Phoneix far surpasses that of Iverson in Denver, where he has the talent to legitamtley contend for a title.
Now I won't contend for a second that despite the above de-bunking of the "team" theory--that it doesn't and hasn't played some sort of roll in the differences in their respective levels of success--but I think there's a more powerful factor at play here.
I hypothesize, that it is the innate type of player Allen Iverson is, and continues to be, that has led to the markedly different legacies both AI and Nash.
Jordan won rings only when he actively chose to trust his teammates--to rely on them. Tim Duncan has always relied on his teammates, as did Bird and Magic (whos success was predicated on it rather than just relied), Kobe's fortune is changing as he is allowing his teammates to carry more of the burden, and despite the fact that he has yet to win a title, Nash elevated his game by giving his teammates the opportunity to become better.
It would be easy to misconstrew this, and say--"oh ok, Allen Iverson is innatley a more selfish player, therefore he does not succeed." Quite the contrary, just look at the numbers. The reality isn't that Iverson doesn't pass the ball enough--it's that he doesn't want to pass the ball enough.
Why? For the same reason Jordan struggled. Because when you're as good as Michael Jordan, or Allen Iverson, it's far easier to trust yourself, than it is to trust four other guys you know aren't even close to being as good as you. In the short run--from moment to moment, play to play--you can get away with it. Hell, you can get through regular seasons and even compete in the playoffs, maybe even make it to a Finals once on that notion. But when it comes to trying to win a title--when it comes to being a champion, it just isn't enough.
Dicatorship might work well in the short run, but you have to trust the people, to truly accomplish a great society.
But let's dig deeper: Why? Why doesn't/why can't Iverson see this light? Why doesn't he see the success of Steve Nash, and make the connection that "shit, if I play more like Steve Nash, I might give myself a better shot at getting to the promise land."
Here's my theory:
Miraculous, once in a lifetime God-given talent (striking platinum in the genetic lottery pool) + coming of age during the Magic-Bird-Jordan Era as I discussed = an innate lack of basketball selflessness that the likes of Duncan (born and raised under very different socio-economic circumstances) use to become elite, champions. Or: nature + nurture = nature. In contrast, Nash was born with less talent, raised in a different culture and whose greatest influence may have very well been soccer--a far more egalitarian game, where an individual can have far less influence than in the game of basketball.
But forget Iverson. There are more players, more stars in NBA history who have been further from this innate realization than AI. I've seen Iverson play like Nash on possessions. He dishes, beautifully at times. Sometimes, it just isn't in the genes.
- Is Allen Iverson the basketball player, Allen Iverson, because this is the player he chooses to be? Or this is the player he was born, and cultured to become?
And let's take this question to its logical extent.
- If Allen Iverson is the player he is, because this is the player he has and continues to choose to be--could he be Steve Nash if he wanted to be?
This excercise isn't intended to zero in on Iverson or any individual player, rather the question of what it is that makes good players, and what it is that makes good teams. I picked Iverson, and counterpart, Steve Nash because there's a crystal-clear dichotomy between the two players, despite their similar position of control on each of their respective teams--and Iverson in particular, because there is nothing he can't do physically that Steve Nash can.
With the exception of Iverson's trip to the 2001 NBA Finals, Nash has in large part achieved more team success over the course of his career--and it could be argued that he has achieved more individual success with his two MVP's to Iverson's one. But why?
There's little question Iverson is a significantly more gifted athlete. He is by all-accounts one of the greatest athletes in basketball history, which likely makes him one of the greatest athletes ever in any sport. A 6-foot marvel, who starred in basketball and football in higschool, blazing speed and quickness--and incredible vertical leap, and strength that goes consistently over-looked. His individual basketball talent is unquestionable. The coordination, the balance, the ball handling--the ability to get wherever he wants to, whenever he wants. His vision is always underrated, as noted by his career assist numbers.
So why is it, that Steve Nash--a player who in most tangible ways is subordinate to Iverson, has achieved more notable success than Iverson in his career?
The first and most obvious answer is their teams. Nash has been surrounded by better talent than Iverson for a good deal of his career in both Dallas and Phoenix. But why is it then, that Iverson and his Sixers achieved such great success in the 2000-2001 season reaching the NBA finals, a plateu Nash has never reached despite superior suporting talent to Iverson? Of course, there is the obvious disparity in competition between the East and West--but why did Iverson fail to consistently compete for the Eastern Conference crown year after year in Philadelphia?
Furthermore, Nash's immediate impact in Phoneix far surpasses that of Iverson in Denver, where he has the talent to legitamtley contend for a title.
Now I won't contend for a second that despite the above de-bunking of the "team" theory--that it doesn't and hasn't played some sort of roll in the differences in their respective levels of success--but I think there's a more powerful factor at play here.
I hypothesize, that it is the innate type of player Allen Iverson is, and continues to be, that has led to the markedly different legacies both AI and Nash.
Jordan won rings only when he actively chose to trust his teammates--to rely on them. Tim Duncan has always relied on his teammates, as did Bird and Magic (whos success was predicated on it rather than just relied), Kobe's fortune is changing as he is allowing his teammates to carry more of the burden, and despite the fact that he has yet to win a title, Nash elevated his game by giving his teammates the opportunity to become better.
It would be easy to misconstrew this, and say--"oh ok, Allen Iverson is innatley a more selfish player, therefore he does not succeed." Quite the contrary, just look at the numbers. The reality isn't that Iverson doesn't pass the ball enough--it's that he doesn't want to pass the ball enough.
Why? For the same reason Jordan struggled. Because when you're as good as Michael Jordan, or Allen Iverson, it's far easier to trust yourself, than it is to trust four other guys you know aren't even close to being as good as you. In the short run--from moment to moment, play to play--you can get away with it. Hell, you can get through regular seasons and even compete in the playoffs, maybe even make it to a Finals once on that notion. But when it comes to trying to win a title--when it comes to being a champion, it just isn't enough.
Dicatorship might work well in the short run, but you have to trust the people, to truly accomplish a great society.
But let's dig deeper: Why? Why doesn't/why can't Iverson see this light? Why doesn't he see the success of Steve Nash, and make the connection that "shit, if I play more like Steve Nash, I might give myself a better shot at getting to the promise land."
Here's my theory:
Miraculous, once in a lifetime God-given talent (striking platinum in the genetic lottery pool) + coming of age during the Magic-Bird-Jordan Era as I discussed = an innate lack of basketball selflessness that the likes of Duncan (born and raised under very different socio-economic circumstances) use to become elite, champions. Or: nature + nurture = nature. In contrast, Nash was born with less talent, raised in a different culture and whose greatest influence may have very well been soccer--a far more egalitarian game, where an individual can have far less influence than in the game of basketball.
But forget Iverson. There are more players, more stars in NBA history who have been further from this innate realization than AI. I've seen Iverson play like Nash on possessions. He dishes, beautifully at times. Sometimes, it just isn't in the genes.
Monday, February 18, 2008
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