Dancing With Noah

Just messing around, getting triple doubles

Star!

Leave a comment Posted by on February 14, 2012

Welcome one and all, man, woman and child to the first annual, Dancing with Noah all-star selection. Fans and coaches, writers and analysts, people I know and people you know; they’ve all had their say and now it’s our turn. We the people on this 14th day of February, 2012 wish to declare a new stash of all-stars free from the defined parameters of the National Basketball Association. Will there be carryover, overlap, blendings and snubs? We can only hope so.

This year’s team is made up of 12 players. Positions, team structure and conferences don’t matter much here. We’re not playing for gold medals or gold metals or home court advantage or even pride. If it’s a celebration, then let’s express ourselves in a mood of Dionysian delight and indulge in the players who captivate our attentions on the court and help our minds to believe in the impossible.

Kobe Bryant: Still the One. Not the “one” in the sense of Neo in the Matrix, but in the sense he’s still at the center of basketball world; consuming our loves and hates, sucking it all in like a swirling vacuum and becoming endearing with time. He’s tough, driven, motivated. Even the legions of anti-Kobe-ites have had their icy facades melted away by his commitment to and pursuit of excellence. Kobe Bryant embodies that blue collar, hardworking American ethic we tout so proudly in this country. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

DeMarcus Cousins: It’s fitting that this child-like man is on the Kings. His game is resplendent with royalty and a lingering sense of being spoiled that probably accompanies the young and entitled. But despite the years of bad press and the mountains of evidence that his attitude is rotten to the core, his post-Westphal game has become the envy of big men worldwide. At 21, he already possesses a more well-rounded offensive game than Dwight or Bynum. His motor ticks, he cares and he can only get older (which is hopefully accompanied by more maturity).

Ricky Rubio: His passes are snazzy and functional at the same time. He already had a cult following that maybe gave up on him after a couple of bumbling seasons in Spain, but a chance to radiate in the greatest league in the world has been seized upon by this young man who was apparently born to play here (in Minnesota?). Like Cousins, he’s only 21 and already running shit in Minneapolis. He’s fourth in the league in assists and leads the league in steals. His on-the-ball defense needs a bit of work and his jumper does too, but holy shit, Rubio’s already nudged, elbowed, scratched and clawed his way into NBA legitimacy. A lot of us thought it was all premature and a lot us are happily watching his highlights thankful for being so embarrassingly incorrect.

Andrew Bynum: Welcome to World B. Healthy—for now at least. In a scant 24 games of youthful vitality, Andrew Bynum has given fans and basketball minds a respite from the all-too-familiar tale of sky’s the limit prodigy hobbled by the cruel fate of injury. Bynum’s story (far from complete) is one of patience and warmth. His health and the world class performance that accompanies it, is a ray of sunshine for the young Sam Bowies and Greg Odens of the world. Yes young man, you may be down and out and experiencing literal growing pains, but tomorrow can be yours. Just ask Drew.

JaVale McGee: If 2012 Andrew Bynum is unimpeded sunshine, then JaVale McGee is a full moon; equally captivating, but cooler and more confounding. Despite the Youtube clips of JaVale doing nonsensical things on the court, I don’t believe there’s a decision to do or not do. Impulse takes over and next thing we know, JaVale’s tossing up hook shots, pushing the break or saluting imaginary soldiers in the crowd after blocked shots. If Kobe, Michael and Larry have taught us you can take basketball too seriously, then McGee’s head in the clouds routine (that’s not a reference to one of his dunks) acts as a comedic reminder that basketball is just a game—sometimes played by children.

Brandon Jennings: I like Brandon Jennings. I was pleased when he gave the establishment the bird and spent what would’ve been his freshman NCAA season playing in Italy. I like that he skirted the traditional sneaker powers that be and signed an endorsement deal with a power-to-be in Under Amour. And even though it was never his choice, I’m satisfied he plays up in that great northern everyman’s town of Milwaukee. It’s not as crazy of juxtaposition as a young, politically and spiritually curious Lew Alcindor playing there in the early 70s, but Jennings has enough Hollywood in him to seem like an outsider while maintaining a strong enough sense of himself to be accepted by the locals.

Andrea Bargnani: Like Franz Kafka’s strange tale The Castle, Bargnani’s work in 2011-12 is incomplete (he’s appeared in 13 of 29 games). And also like The Castle, this particular season, however brief and interrupted, has been a pleasure to partake in. The former number one pick and player most-frequently-compared-to-Dirk was having a career best season across the board until a calf injury deprived us, Raptors fans and Silvio Berlusconi of seeing it through. The NBA might not have a place on its all-star team for a guy who’s appeared in less than half of his team’s games, but here at Dancing with Noah, we’re willing to waive these simple trivialities.

Josh Smith: He might not be paid like he’s the man in Atlanta, but since Al Horford went down with an injury, Josh Smith has functioned as the heart, soul and elbow grease of this sleep-inducing also-ran Hawks team. He rebounds, dunks, blocks shots, shoots less threes than he used to (keep working on it) and does it at 6’9” without complaint. His improved rebounding and re-commitment to defense indicate he’s finally ready to move on from that experimentation phase so many of us go through and accept the talents his creators bestowed on him. Do your thing, Josh. Just make sure you do it inside the three point line.

James Harden: How good is this guy? That’s not a rhetorical question. We’ve all see his dope game: the lefty threes, upright running style, deceptive athleticism, change of pace and surprising passing and playmaking, but do we have any real idea what the ceiling holds for Harden? He reminds me somewhat of a talented backup in the NFL trapped behind an all-pro incumbent. Is he Aaron Rodgers, Michael Turner, DeMarco Murray? For any player in the league who takes ten shots per game or less, James Harden scores the most at 16.6ppg. If he took 20 shots a night, would he score 32? Doubtful, but I don’t think we’ll find out any time soon. He’s under contract through 2014, so until then, don’t let your curiosity get the best of you.

LeBron James: Just because we’ve come to expect greatness from this great one, let’s not get all carried away and take it for granted. As a transplant of almost eight years, I still notice things in Seattle that just don’t exist in the Midwest. My daily walk to work used to take me down Madison St which crosses over I-5. Looking south on clear days, you can see over 14,000 majestic feet of Mount Rainier resting impassively in the distance. So many times I walked past this and instead of marveling at its natural power and beauty, I marveled at the other people walking by who never blinked in the direction of that mountain. This isn’t to say I have a keen appreciation for nature that others lack. It’s to say sometimes we get so caught up in what’s next; we forget to enjoy what’s now.

Greg Monroe: There is hope in Detroit and his name is Greg Monroe. Sadly, I haven’t seen the latest Georgetown big man nearly as much as I’d like since it’s so painful to watch his team play, but I know from what some friends tell me and what the stats and highlights say that Mr. Monroe is for real. He joins Cousins, Bynum, McGee and Nikola Pekovic as post-Shaq bigs who embrace the advantages their size offers. Just because his team is so awful, let’s not condemn the son (Monroe) for the mistakes of the father (Dumars).

Kevin Durant: I guess it shouldn’t be a shock that he’s getting better at 23, but rather that he was so good at 20, 21, 22. He’s rebounding and passing the ball better and shooting a career high FG%. His on-the-ball and team defense have both improved. His scoring is down, but the team’s winning more. He’s exhibited a willingness to sacrifice his own points to appease the needs of others (Harden and Westbrook are both averaging career highs in PPG). And most importantly, he’s has taken what appears to be his natural high road regarding the Westbrook situation that lingered from last year’s playoffs and carried over to the beginning of this season. He’s handled the situation perfectly from the get go and has most likely reinforced what was already a sturdy foundation in OKC.

We can’t have a team without coaches and this year’s co-DWN all-star coaches are Minnesota’s Rick Adelman and Philadelphia’s Doug Collins. They might be a couple of old chips off the old NBA block, but both combine a strong sense of in-game coaching with the ability to read the temperatures of their teams and adjust accordingly. For that, they have the great opportunity to coach this mish mash, hodge podge of world class talent against each other in imaginary scrimmages that I’ll daydream about on the bus tomorrow.

Friends, this concludes the 2012 Dancing with Noah all-star selections. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

All Stars , ,

Numerically Odd: Al Harrington in Less than 120 Words

Leave a comment Posted by on February 3, 2012

The Lakers-Nuggets game is just wrapping up and I’m seeing St. Patrick’s own Al Harrington drop 24 from a variety of spots on the court; a typical performance from a man who’s remarkably expanded his game to include the three-point shot.

Today, I salute Al Harrington for both his commitment to growing his game and the fact that he’s a member of the recently created 5,000-800 Club–that’s at least 5,000 rebounds and 800 threes made. What does all that mean? It means he walks with Hall of Famers (Kobe, Gary Payton, Dirk, Pierce) and belongs to a small fraternity of long-range shooting big men who exist in part to confoud video game developers (Tim Thomas, Cliff Robinson):

Denver Nuggets ,

Dancing with Noah in another Realm

Leave a comment Posted by on February 2, 2012

My guy Ian Levy at Hickory High was kind enough to post my piece on the lineal ancestry from Dominique Wilkins to Tracy McGrady to Carmelo Anthony. Is that a stretch? Am I making shit up? Someday I wonder if we’ll look at basketball courts the way people used to see the earth …. mistakenly flat when it was really round.

While you’re there, take a look at Ian’s work too. Lot to be learned and it’s aesthetically pleasing… yum.

Amigos , , , ,

Mash with Passion

Leave a comment Posted by on January 31, 2012

Blake Griffin‘s dunk last night brought up a spirited exchange about dunkers on an email thread at work, so I figured I’d share not just one of my favorite dunks, but my favorite post-dunk taunt/celebration/expression of all time:

We’ve got some great dunkers in the game these days, but either David Stern’s stamped out spontaneous expression or players are too hooked on scowling and staring to drop low and give a double point a’la SHAWN KEMP:

Seattle Supersonics , , , ,

Got Your Money

Leave a comment Posted by on January 20, 2012

Hmmm ... what else can I do with $80 million?

OKC did the right thing on Thursday when they gave avant-garde roller skater and sometimes NBA point guard, Russell Westbrook, a contract extension. While OKC played it cryptically and refused to disclose the terms of the deal, sources are calling it a 5-year, $80 million deal with no opt-out clause.

From one Russell to another:

Oklahoma City Thunder , , , ,

Alternative Chapters: OJ Mayo

Leave a comment Posted by on January 19, 2012

Once or twice before, I’ve mentioned my yet-to-be-published (or even started) Choose Your Own Adventure, NBA-style doorstop of a book based on trades or signings that didn’t quite happen (Chris Paul to Lakers is and will continue to be the Mount Everest of What-Ifs based on circumstance alone). Well, today is the first extension of that concept; what I’ll refer to as an Alternative Chapter. It’s nothing more than me channeling my imagination to come up with a (somewhat plausible) scenario for a team or player that strays away from reality. Today’s Alternative Chapter features the pride of Huntington, West Virginia, O.J. Mayo.

Mayo’s only in his fourth season in the NBA, but it feels like we’re all old friends because his name has been plastered across prep headlines since he was named to the all-state first-team in Kentucky … as an eighth grader.

At this point, I’ll stop and posit a theory about O.J. Mayo. Scouts, high school beat writers, opponents, fans and junkies (of the hoop variety) accelerated the Mayo hype-wagon in part (large, small, medium part?) because of his name. O.J. Mayo is not a name we easily forget. Oh-jay-may-oh (or you could say it like this). Say it enough and it will stick to your mind like bugs splattered across your windshield. Had he been named Jeff Ridges, the likelihood of his rapid rise through the prep rankings may have taken a longer, more traditional and healthy route. Instead, Mayo’s been ingrained in the basketball zeitgeist since 2002. Great exposure brings great expectations and that’s where the reality of Mayo has fallen short. This whole concept is applicable beyond the basketball court and should likely be addressed by Malcolm Gladwell if someone else hasn’t cracked the code already.

Onto the Alternative Chapter …

Every few weeks, O.J. Mayo’s name is mentioned in trade rumors … to the Bulls, to the Pacers, to the Nets. There’s the consoling, “Well someone wants me,” but after multiple failed trades, even a basketball vagabond like Mayo wonders, “Am I really wanted … by anyone?” These doubts are human (and potentially canine), but they make any of us feel unwanted and unloved. And since we the fans have been reading about the great O.J. Mayo for years already, maybe we’re tired of his undersized two-guardness, his catchy name, the constant trade rumors and the confusion of his game not living up to the hype (“I thought he was supposed to be better?”). Maybe we don’t want him either.

Fast forward to May 2012 when the sixth seed Grizzlies are bounced in game six against the Lakers in Memphis. After suffering a sprained ankle in game five, Tony Allen is forced to sit out the next game which means Mayo draws the start and gets the luxury of guarding Kobe Bryant. Between games five and six, reporters bait Mayo into a headline-making comment and he sadly takes the hook; cracking a joke about the time he “locked Kobe up” in a game of one-on-one. Not that Kobe needed more motivation for an elimination game, but he attacks Mayo inside and out, abusing the smaller guard without mercy. After Bryant scores 16 in the first quarter, Mayo’s confidence is shaken and it shows on offense where his performance brings up Starksian memories from the early 90s—just another small shooting guard lining up the sights for a soon-to-be-Hall of Famer. He shoots 1-14 from the field. His coach, Lionel Hollins ends his misery with two minutes left in the third quarter and benches Mayo in favor of the rangy Quincy Pondexter. Mayo exits to a cold chorus of boos from the hometown fans; his last time in a Grizzlies jersey.

The season over, a team option on his fifth year, Mayo gets out of Memphis as soon as he’s able. Bags packed, he ventures to the Caribbean for a couple weeks of quiet, uninterrupted reflection. His beard grows unkempt, his hair ‘fros out, unbrushed. Despite the images of a black Castaway, his mind is clear and upon return stateside, he meets with his agent Rob Pelinka. While the Grizzlies have rejected the team option, Pelinka excitedly rattles off teams that have contacted him regarding his client’s services. The refreshed Mayo cuts him off. He’s done, he says. Tired of the games and politics. Tired of the unfair expectations (“Don’t they know Kobe’s 6’7” … at least 6’7”!?!?”). He demands Pelinka look into Spanish opportunities (“I’ve already talked to Marc (Gasol) about it.”).

The first hint that Spain offered refuge

And that’s how O.J. Mayo came to join FCB Regal (aka, FC Barcelona) of the Spanish top division. He signed for one year to “get your confidence back” as Pelinka put it. Mayo didn’t disagree. He arrived in September and played for about a third of the money he would’ve made in the NBA. Sadly, Euro legend Pete Mickeal retired due to a degenerative knee condition, but close one man’s window and another man often hurls a basketball through it, then climbs in and that’s what Mayo did.

Like so many expats before him, Mayo was revived by a new culture and new people. The passion of the fans brought back nostalgia for the high school crowds he played to nearly a decade before and his game thrived. In his first season alone, Barcelona won the rare treble: the domestic Copa del Rey, the ACB Championship and the Euro League title. This wasn’t any indictment of the quality of Spanish league basketball; just the realization of O.J. Mayo’s potential.

The record books and tales of Mayo’s long stay in the Spanish league are much too long for the meager space allotted here. Just know that the acceptance and sense of inclusion that was so hard to come by in the Association was made readily available by his teammates and fans in Barcelona.

Alternative Chapters, Memphis Grizzlies , , , ,

Tracy McGrady: A Retrospective

3 Comments Posted by on January 16, 2012

With Kobe Bryant continuing to defy the wearing and tearing of over 47,000 minutes and 1,300 games (combined playoffs and regular season) by scoring 40+ on a nightly basis, I started thinking about his once-upon-a-time rival, Tracy McGrady. A quick look back through the histories of webpages and you’ll find hundreds of thousands of words filling up blogs, message boards, forums and comments sections making the case for and against each player with the more objective writers conceding the players were, for the most part, too similar to pick one or the other. For the sake of this post, the Kobe-McGrady discussion stopped mattering when their paths diverged (assuming they were once walking the same path).

The Kobe vs. Tmac debate reached its high water mark during the 2002-03 season when Tracy was destroying all comers in Orlando and posted the 14th highest PER (player efficiency rating) in NBA history at 30.3—a mark Kobe’s never bested. McGrady was dominant on a mediocre Magic team that went 42-40 and did what every McGrady-led playoff team has ever done: got bounced in the first round. A few time zones away in LA, Kobe put together a masterful season where he established career highs in rebounding, minutes played and steals—all while scoring 30 points a night. Both players shared a spot on the All-NBA First Team (the last time McGrady would earn the designation) and finished third (Kobe) and fourth (Tmac) in MVP voting. That these two young wings (24 and 23 at the time—Tracy the younger) revealed the full breadth of their talents at such young ages guaranteed a rivalry of sorts if only by virtue of their ages and heights. By 2006, the chatter was quieting down and by the end of the 2007 season, McGrady’s back had finished for good as a present-tense argument.

To address whether or not there was a rivalry is to a take the first steps towards forming a potential understanding of how and why Tracy McGrady went from legend-in-the-making to a guy who occasionally comes to mind as a second-thought to another man’s career. I dug around the dusty internets of 2003 and found a well-written story by Charley Rosen from ESPN’s Page2. The story included some telling quotes:

According to Horace Grant, who played with Kobe in 2000-01, and knows the full intricacies of the triangle offense, “Kobe is totally into proving that he’s better than Tracy. Last week, when the Lakers came to Orlando, Kobe was breaking plays left and right, just forcing shot after shot, trying to outscore Tracy.”

And McGrady? “Well,” he says, “to tell you the truth, as late as last season, I did get caught up in trying to prove that I was better than Kobe. But not any more. It’s a huge compliment that people even consider me to be one of the best players in the league. But I’ve learned to focus on winning.”

OK, OK … but, besides Shaq, who is the NBA’s premier player?

“There’s no question about it,” says McGrady. “It’s Kobe and he’s got three rings to prove it.”

Tracy was right (but I’m not sure how honest) to focus on winning instead of Kobe, but reading about Kobe or MJ or Bird or Magic, the “focus on winning” was always a given. Yeah, you better damn well be focused on winning because you’re competing against the greatest players in the world every night. What it doesn’t seem like McGrady was able to do was find the motivation to give him that extra edge. Anyone who heard MJ’s Hall of Fame speech knows that cold bastard is still carrying grudges today—nearly nine seasons after he retired. Bird used any edge he could and made it a point to not befriend players on other teams—which made the Converse commercial with Magic all the more difficult since this was the closest thing to a sworn enemy and rival. And we know Kobe’s pursuits drift somewhere between manic and sublime. The fire burning inside that man still feels like it’s fueled by some long-standing chip on his shoulder, possibly from his first years in the league when he was regularly and rightfully criticized for being an unapologetic chucker. Now, 16 seasons later, he’s still proving that he can go it alone. What was McGrady’s fuel?

It’s clear he was conscious of differences between himself and Jordan and Kobe. From a Hoopshype interview by David Carro in 2003:

Carro: What particular aspect of MJ would you like to have or imitate? What would you like to learn from him?

McGrady: The competitive fire. I don’t think there is anybody in the league as competitive as Michael. I think Kobe is close. I’d be content to have that of Jordan.

Carro: Do you see yourself at that level?

McGrady: Me? Hmmmm… I think I’m close to that mental level right now.

And in September of 2007, Sonny Vaccaro, sneaker executive and creator of the ABCD high school summer camp, responded to a question from Tim Lemke of the Washington Times:

Lemke: Who’s your favorite athlete?

Vaccaro: I don’t want to go there because there’s so many kids, but I’ll tell you the one who I think is the most naturally gifted is Tracy McGrady. Tracy doesn’t work as hard–and you should put this in your story–as some of the others. Tracy was given more ability than anybody. He didn’t always use it.

Keep in mind, Vaccaro’s been around elite high school players for decades.

All too familiar scene

Lastly, Houston Rockets GM, Darryl Morey:

McGrady was the most gifted player I’ve ever had on the roster. I do think (his talent) got in the way of Tracy’s development. Much of the game was so, so easy… When it’s that easy to dominate at that young age (that McGrady did), because of your physical tools, his wing span was freakish, his size was enormous, his IQ. But my sense was that all of that did get in the way of Tracy reaching his highest heights.

None of this is new under the sun though. It’s the information and quotes we’ve been hearing for the past decade. It’s stalked McGrady’s career without discrimination since he was a sleepy rookie in Toronto. When I initially sat down to think about Tracy McGrady and the powers and/or choices that led to his career decline at the young age of 27, I had in my mind a man who was blessed with talents and a physique that forced him down a funnel that became narrower and narrower as he grew older and taller. The gym, with the ball in his hands was his destiny and it’s where he arrived and found definition. But, in my thoughts and recollections, I insisted on assigning a level of blame to McGrady for not doing all he could to cultivate that gift. This is the question that came to the surface:

Are athletes, artists, entertainers, etc obligated to commit themselves to the mediums for which their talents are best suited for a greater good?

Possibly for selfish reasons, Phil Jackson indirectly answered this question in the mid-90s when he said to a recently-retired Michael Jordan, “You don’t know the talent that God has given you and what you are going to deprive people of.”

The same words could be echoed to McGrady and countless others over history. T-Mac’s not Michael Jordan, but he was a great and gifted basketball player who could’ve taken certain elements of his craft more seriously. In the McGrady interviews I read while researching this post, I saw the outline of a man who was fully in tune and engaged in the NBA. McGrady’s simple, but honest and well-thought responses reveal consciousness and awareness. In response to a question about flopping ruining the game, instead of taking the bait he said: “You know who started that was freaking Vlade Divac. He’s the king of that. But those guys, they ain’t soft or anything, they just trying to get a call. They’re trying to win ball games. That’s one thing I’ll give the European players. They competitive and they go hard.”

When asked about the 2006 NBA Finals and Dwyane Wade getting all the calls, he unflinchingly said: “If you were watching that game, it seemed like it was rigged … yea, it seemed like it was rigged. The calls he (Wade) was getting, Jesus.”

Honesty’s never been a problem unless McGrady’s talking about himself. His comments about winning, about his “main motivation is the championship ring, the NBA title,” about learning “to focus on winning” and more win-related clichés that prevent anyone from discerning any truth from his comments. The words he spoke in March of 2011 invited us into the mind of a multifold McGrady who responded to a question about never winning a playoff series with: “I think about it, but I don’t lose sleep over it. It is what it is. If you look at my numbers, what I put up in the playoffs, it’s not like I disappeared every playoff series. I did everything I could to try to advance to that next level. A lot of bad breaks, better teams.’’

McGrady came to terms with his team’s failures by convincing himself he did everything within his powers to win. This comment comes, despite advisors, teammates and general managers continually calling him out for not doing everything he could with the talent he had.

In the same HoopsHype article, he said:

I just wasn’t a great practice player. I just wasn’t. I wasn’t. I just think I could cruise through practice and still be effective. Some guys have to really go (all) out to really have an impact on practice. My ability was just I had God-given talent to where I could just cruise through practice and still be an effective practice player… I was inconsistent. Some days, I have really good (practice) days where I just go hard and a lot of days where like, ‘Uh,’ and I just go through the motions. But I work hard. But I’m just not the best practice player.

It’s difficult to assess McGrady’s commitment with so much contradicting evidence. No one ever considered questioning his talent, just the drive, will, dedication that went along with it and this is where the conflict about obligation comes in. I don’t believe T-Mac ever lacked a love of the game or faithfulness for it. His feel for the game, his knowledge of other players, his willingness to accept a supporting role in order to continue his career all indicate feeling and caring. The gaps show up when you start analyzing the aspects of the game that aren’t fun: practice, conditioning, accepting blame (to McGrady’s credit, he’s cried over losses and went out of his way to accept blame for the Rockets being eliminated from the 2007 playoffs). If you insist on closure for the Kobe vs. McGrady debate; you’ll find it somewhere between winning and  just playing the game.

I don’t doubt that Tracy McGrady wants to win basketball games and wants to be an NBA champion, but I can’t help but feel his desire to win comes more from an awareness of what winning means to a player’s place in history as opposed to winning being the end means of playing basketball.

A fitting epitaph: “Win or lose, he just wanted to play.”

Recollections , ,

Someone Peed on the Sand Castle

Leave a comment Posted by on January 11, 2012

I spent part of my Tuesday night watching the Heat against Golden State. I was at home watching frustrated as Miami came down with a case of confusion in the fourth quarter. The road trip had been going so well through three quarters: Miami was ahead 84 to 72, GSW was missing Andris Biedrins and Steph Curry and would eventually lose Kwame Brown to a shoulder injury. The Heat were warring with their big three; yep Dwyane Wade had returned and done so in an assertive alpha style.

But as I watched that fourth quarter, I quickly realized what was happening in Oakland. The real fans, full of piss and vinegar and then some, were grasping onto each Warrior 4th quarter point like it was one more symbol to stack up against the establishment and the Miami hype machine. And the fans got in sync with the players, with Monta Ellis and David Lee, Brandon Rush and Dorell Wright and of course they saved their strongest exultations for the man who thrived off them most: Nate Robinson. Together they chopped down what was once a 17-point Miami lead, made something out of nothing, they re-wrote the media’s yet-to-be filed stories and changed the course of fates.

Along the road to disgraceful defeat, I witnessed a hardening and lack of focus among the Heat players. Dwyane had been out a few games and in his absence, LeBron James was his most confidently controlled self, consumed of no doubts, just pure efficiency for all the fans—sons, daughters, grandma’s and grandpa’s, all y’all. Then big, bad Wade showed up and all of sudden the script is flipped? I didn’t watch the game’s entirety, but I watched the last quarter and overtime with the angst of a person who’s not comfortable with disruption. And there was the disruption, calmly, expeditiously, politely. Wade wants it, LeBron wants to give it and the result was a lead whittled away by scraps of lucky points.

Near the end of regulation, there were numerous loose balls, bouncing balls, missed plays, missed catches and temper tantrums (that’s you, Udonis Haslem) by both teams. Even with GSW’s mistakes, Miami was insistent on allowing them back in. Credit is due to Dorell Wright and Nate Rob who both hit huge threes, but I had a flashback ….

It was a flashback to the 2011 NBA Finals when LeBron faded into the background, too flustered, confused or uncomfortable to let his big light shine. The man wanted to be invisible. He stood at the top of the perimeter and refused to attack. He passed to Wade or Haslem or Bosh, but would then drift out beyond three-point range.

Earlier on Tuesday, I had defended LeBron with words from the heart. It’s between the ears and once he figures it out, it’s over, I argued. What’s there to figure out? He had 26pts, 11rebs, 7asts, shot well from the field and I don’t give a shit because when it mattered he reverted to passive LeBron like a fly to the light, sucking him away from his rightful role. This was different from his days in Cleveland when he’d penetrate for the shot and pass it to open shooters if/when the defense collapsed. This was LeBron removing himself from the conversation and, in my meager analysis on Tuesday night, doing it because Dwyane Wade was around.

For what it’s worth, the stats provide an objective witness. LeBron’s quarter-by-quarter line:

Quarter Min FG FGA FT FTA Rebs Asts Stls Tos BS Pts
1st

0:12:00

4

7

0

0

3

1

0

1

0

8
2nd

0:06:59

2

2

3

4

3

2

0

1

0

7
3rd

0:12:00

3

7

2

2

3

1

2

2

0

8
4th

0:06:34

0

0

1

2

0

0

0

0

0

1

I’m disappointed too.

Naturally, Golden State gritted out the win in overtime.

Where was that man with the world’s greatest game and what was he saving it for? I feel like he needs a combination of Ben Affleck’s character from Goodwill Hunting and Jamal Wallace from Finding Forrester. Between these two, there’s plenty of inspiration and realization to help a man even as complex as LeBron James figure things out. If they could crack Will Hunting’s code and get through the thick skull of a Sean Connery character, then the resolution to Bron’s mental issues are just a climactic scene away.

Aside from that rant, I’m still happy to walk out on my balcony and shout my prediction that the Miami Heat will be the 2012 NBA Champions. And that’s what makes it all the more frustrating, even in a Tuesday night road game in January, to see the game’s best extricate himself from the big moment. Miss a shot, throw the ball away, choke slam Nate Robinson … anything is better than the nothing I saw in Oakland.

Miami Heat , , ,

A New Winter in Los Angeles

Leave a comment Posted by on January 9, 2012

I kicked around the idea and got excited about it like it was some kind of realization unique to me, but I have my doubts. I mean, if Greg Anthony and those cats are talking about it, I’m far from original, but I figured since I thought of it independent of Greg Anthony, but possibly in dependence (would agreement be more appropriate, cahoots?) with Jim Buss (oh, the skin crawls just thinking I might agree with this Buss), it was worthy of a developed post here. And so I bring you the question: Is Andrew Bynum on par with Dwight Howard?

Before anyone goes all Stephen A. Smith on me and covers their keyboard with spittle or coffee or whatever’s in your mouth, I request the opportunity to define the terms of the question and answer.

I arrived at this question way back last week and would’ve asked it on the spot, but DeMarcus Cousins got the best of my limited attention span, so I had to wait until now. After serving his four-game suspension for flattening the smallest man in a Mavs uniform in last year’s playoffs (wrong place, wrong time, JJ), Andy B. returned to the court for the Lakers on New Year’s Eve and imposed his knees and arms all over the faces of the Denver Nuggets. Bynum is listed as a mere 7’0” tall, but I can’t help but second guess this listing as my TV projects the man to be mammothly large and possessed of limbs that stretch and stretch up beyond the heights of your everyday, average NBA seven-footer. It’s these same limbs that make anyone who watches Laker games cringe when he jumps or stretches for a loose ball for a couple reasons: First: His injury history precedes him (over his six-year career, he’s averaged 55 games/season … he misses, on average a third of his team’s games every season) and second: Those legs, as much as they’ve developed in terms of strength and balance, still conjure up images of Bambi or some other four-legged creature with legs that are far too structurally weak for the physique that sits atop. This haunting fear that Andy’s legs aren’t ready for his body may be a thing of the past, but old fears die slow … or they get medicated. Back to New Year’s Eve, the new introduction for Andrew Bynum, his first game being coached by new Laker Coach, Mike Brown. His first night out he shot 13-18 from the field, grabbed 13 rebounds and finished the game with 29 points. Welcome aboard, why yes, the Lakers have plenty of minutes available for a man who can do these things on a regular basis, but therein lies the variation between Dwight and Andy: Can Andy do it every night? Will he stop parking in handicapped spots and cramming his still-growing frame in Porsche 911s and just focus on his core—in the Billy Blanks sense, not the Jabbar sense.

Whatever Andy does off the court is just an expression of sorts, but it’s in part who he thinks he is, who he thinks people want him to be and who he thinks he should be. It’s all a juggling act and sometimes the groceries fall down and big, tall Andy Bynum, a world champion has to reach down in the grocery store and pick up his own vegetables when really, we’d all like to see him focused on the task at hand which is health and consistency as a Los Angeles Laker. So the first game was nice, but let’s see what followed and what we can see ahead, maybe to the future if they’ll even accept our probing inquisitions.

We don’t need the Hubbell telescope to see these stars, we have basketball -reference.com instead, an aggregator of all things black, white and numerical that have occurred in the NBA. Just know how to ask. Well, I asked and it turns out Andy’s first game against those Nuggets of Denver wasn’t no fluke (not no fluke I said). His performances on the young season:

18.8ppg

1.7bpg

3.3 TO/g

15.7rpg – that’s where it’s at

And over 50% from the field.

He’s less efficient than he has been in the past, but increased opportunities are going to lead to declines in efficiency.

Among the nights that made up the averages you see above was a masterful, fan-fueled evening at the Statples Center where Mr. B achieved his career-first 20-20 game. It was done against Houston on Wednesday night and it has to be noted that the Rockets’ front court isn’t quite mediocre. It’s not from a lack of effort. They tried for trades, but ran into David Stern’s heavy handed gavel. Don’t you think Pau Gasol for Houston would’ve made it more difficult for Andy to achieve 20-20 than Pau Gasol for Los Angeles? Houston couldn’t hold down the 7’2” Bynum and so it was on NBA TV, I believe, I began chewing the fat that not only are the Lakers maybe better with Bynum than Howard, but maybe Bynum’s just better than Dwight.

Better and different are words that walk a fine line and when they’re used together like that it’s usually to dispel a given notion or just to engage in a deeper dissection about Dwight Howard and Andrew Bynum.

On that same night when NBA TV was flashing graphics and stats like they’re tuned into the mainframe of NBA statistical databases and can present these informations with just a glance at huge HD screens, that’s when the topic came to Greg Anthony and his partners (Kenny? Webber? Both?). Anyhow, they big upped Andy’s accomplishment and then showed how many 20-20 games Dwight has had in his career (playoffs included): 39. Damn.

This disparity between 20-20 games really got me thinking and slicing the argument in different ways because as great as 20-20 is, you can hide a basket of fundamental flaws beneath the weight of those robust numbers that have the power to shape the ideas and contracts of American sports team owners which clearly isn’t our intent here because we’re just asking a few innocent questions.

Since I like boxing, I felt necessary to introduce the Tail of the Tape to this strange conversation that lost its way a while ago and continues to falter as we take our little steps forward.

Andy B Dwight
Age

24

26
Height 7’2″ 6’11”
Weight

285

240
Games

337

575
Playoffs

62

57
Minutes over 9500 over 23k
Seasons in 7th in 8th
20-20 Games

1

39
Awards 2 Championships Only family members and people who are paid by Dwight or the   Orlando Magic should be forced to count his awards. The lists are redundant   and bleed into the same award after 15 seconds.

If this were boxing, we’d all be enamored with the physical advantages held by the younger man. We’ be applauding lesser usage and predicting years of Dwight jumping up and down on pogo stick legs would eventually give out in a way that not even WD40 can resolve, but instead we’re looking at two very different basketball players who play the same position but do it so differently and do so for so many reasons.

Beyond the futuristic athleticism that was bestowed on Dwight by a combination of the Gods up on basketball Olympus and the genetic engineers over at Georgia Tech, the man has the Russellian/Rodmandian ability to dominate a game without having to shoot the ball. Whether he realizes it or not, this is a gift. He’s athletic enough to divert oppositions from painted areas out of fear that he’ll take their precious ball and give it to one of his own teammates if he so chooses. Or perhaps he’ll swat it away, into the hands of a paying customer, excited to be part of the game, amazed at the freakish shoulders of the man in front of him.

But beyond this rare gift is a counter-balance that seems contrived which makes it even worse. Dwight wants the ball. He wants to score it, dunk it, make passes to his friends so they too can feel what it’s like to be part of the big moment. It’s odd that this selfish part of his personality (however real it is) demands the ball for points. It’s really just an extension of his desire to be the center of attention and we all know scorers get the most attention. Dwight’s not a natural scorer though. Does he score and score efficiently? Yes, but for all his private workouts with Hakeem, his offense is still in development stages eight years into the league. And to make matters worse, I don’t think Dwight would give two spits about points if it didn’t mean more attention or if it didn’t mean he’d be more accepted by his peers. Dwight gets his fair share of plays drawn up these days, but he’s still at his best when he’s catching lobs or cleaning up the offensive glass. He uses his indomitable physical strength to outwork or outmaneuver the opposition, his presence alone opening up driving lanes and looks from beyond the arc for a supporting cast that’s been built to complement his skills—occupying the paint. Dwight shouldn’t be the focal point of an offense because it’s not best-suited for his game. If he were ever to come to this conclusion, he’d realize that imposing his will in the Russell fashion allows him to shape the outcome of games in ways that he only occasionally realizes. To be completely fair, Dwight’s only led his team in FGAs/game once his career—last season. His willingness to (mostly) accept the role Stan Van Gundy has carved out for him is commendable, but acceptance and embracing are different things altogether.

Then there’s big Andy who fits the traditional center character-type. He’s comfortable with his back to the basket, posting up and creating his own shots out of the post. His high shoulders and aforementioned long limbs allow him to get his shots off with ease and he’s developed a touch that the more-experienced Howard is still fine tuning. He’s able to reach over the opposition for rebounds without actually going over the back; a bizarre skill that few players possess. Removing injuries from the discussion, there’s an unknown that’s accompanied Bynum his entire career: Kobe Bryant. Bynum is paid like the superstar Jim Buss has always seen him as ($31million over next two seasons), but he’s never had the opportunity to explore the ceilings of his talents because he can’t stay on the court and even when he’s there, he’s the second or third option to Kobe and Gasol. This young season is the first time we’ve seen Bynum on the court for extended periods (34mpg is 4 more than his previous career high and his usage rate is 27% compared to his previous career-best of 20.8%) and the early returns are staggeringly better than anything we’ve ever seen from him. Plateaus aren’t part of the Bynum vocabulary today and until he levels off, the statistical possibilities and in-game impacts will be nothing but speculation.

In Andy’s 330+ game career, we’ve seen snippets of his 2011-12 performance, but it’s never been sustainable. Whether Gasol, Kobe or Phil Jackson impeded his progress, injuries got in the way or he just wasn’t ready for the increased role, he’s never been capable of persistent dominance. And it’d be an act of blind faith to believe the injuries are a thing of the past, but for the first time, it’s not a stretch to give Jim Buss the benefit of the doubt and acknowledge he may be onto something with this big kid. Does that mean Andrew Bynum is better than Dwight Howard? Absolutely not. I’m excited about Bynum going for 18 and 15 over a six-game stretch. Dwight’s been doing this regularly for well over 400 straight games and has the individual honors to prove it. Add in Howard’s commitment to fitness and reliability (he’s missed seven of a possible 583 games) and he’s one of the most consistent and productive players in the past 20 years whereas we’re still praying for an injury-free season from Andy.

Given Bynum’s age and the waves of potential flowing from his massive frame, we can at least hit the pause button on the “big man is dead” statements that have been so popular over the past few years. Andrew Bynum is giving hope to the great Pete Newell and seven footers around the world: You too can play with your back to the basket. He’s not on Dwight’s level yet and may never find that regularity, but in the infant stages of a new season, Bynum is injecting his name into conversations reserved for all-stars and future of famers. The immense ability coupled with the always-present questions about durability make Bynum’s career nerve racking. If I have anxieties and worry about Bynum’s injuries as a basketball fan, I can’t imagine the fears lying in the depths of the minds of Jim Buss or Mitch Kupchak. Bynum’s own feelings about his injuries remain a mystery.

Los Angeles Lakers , , , ,

Spain can Pass

1 Comment Posted by on January 4, 2012

A little Rudy Fernandez to the rookie Kenneth Faried while fellow rookie Jimmer Fredette looks on. Jimmer had to be wondering what kind of mumbo jumbo Rudy was pulling when he chucked this ball up over his head … and just as the final thought flows through ….

In other news … how about those Nuggets? For all the respect and accolades he gets, George Karl is still underrated. Stay tuned for more on the coach and his surprising (to me at least … c’mon, you didn’t see it coming) team.

Denver Nuggets , ,

← Older posts

Newer posts →