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:

• Is the Duke, or North Carolina model for basketball success superior, inferior, or indifferent when implemented at the professional level?

It's long been my theory that there are fundamentally, two types of people and basketball players in this world: Duke people and North Carolina people. The former represents the individual who sees the harmony of organizational structures (societies, teams) as the ultimate gateway to success. The good of the whole, is far important than the good of the individual. The latter represents a significantly more individualistic model for success. The drive to become the greatest individual asset to the community is far and away the most important factor to team success.

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.

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.