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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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:

• 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.

Shaq-Suns Theory