In the midst of the late summer league circuit, I wrote a post about the passage of myths and legends; about how Youtube, camera phones and Twitter had cannibalized the “I saw Kevin Durant go for 50, no 60, wait wait it was definitely 66 points…” stories. There’s a light lament that gives way to honesty with the erosion of legend. But there’s another unknown that still lives on no matter how technologically advanced we become (unless we end up developing some kind of AI to assess a human’s capability and just play the game through simulations—don’t doubt it) and that’s unrealized potential. Injuries, drugs, alcohol, attitude … tragedy. All temptations and we’re all human so we’re all susceptible. Depending on who you are and what genes your parents passed onto you and where you grew up and when you grew up there; the likelihood of you meandering down one of the dark paths above changes accordingly. Most of us find a way to walk, stumble or crawl straight enough or just make sure our wanderings don’t get too far off the path to become trapped and scrape by for survival.
But… we all know someone or many someones who have gotten stuck and maybe you fucked up too and maybe it wasn’t your fault. Someone close to me struggles to stay straight every day and even though I know his chronology and I know what he’s been through, I’ll never know what his struggle feels like. He’s talented, intelligent, exuberant, equipped with talent to create beauty out of thin air and yet … he’s his own worst enemy.
So we’re almost 300 words in and you’re like, “My man, where’s the basketball?” It’s here, it’s relatable. It’s DeMarcus Cousins. It’s every scouting report dating back to him being a sophomore in high school questioning his consistency, commitment to conditioning, emotional maturity (by 2007, I think the high school basketball scouting industry issued a mandate that all Cousins scouting reports include a reference to emotional maturity), mentioning loafing, asking about his effort and on and on. For every negative or weakness that came attached to a Cousins scouting report, there were five more positives/strengths that usually amounted to “sky’s the limit if he can figure it out.” The question marks above leeched onto Cousins’ reputation and whatever they sucked out, they spewed into the basketball world to be inhaled by people who want to make money off Cousins and are willing to give him things in return. Some probably believe the Cousins question marks were validated this past Sunday when the Kings reported that the 21-year-old had requested a trade or they just see it as one more validation in a half-decade full of validations.
In true DeMarcus Cousins fashion, he denied having demanded a trade. And if you look back through the interviews and clippings that cover his basketball-playing career, Cousins has done a remarkably consistent job of deflecting blame and refusing to take accountability for his actions. Even small concessions have been tough to come by. After his sophomore season in 2007 he transferred from Erwin High School in Birmingham because he got into an altercation with a faculty member (Cousins is insistent it was self-defense and witness reports agree). From there, it was on to Clay-Chalkville High School, but he was deemed ineligible for some recruiting shenanigans and never played a game there. Next it was onto his final high school destination, LeFlore in Mobile. Along the way, from the suspension at Erwin to the ineligibility at Clay-Chalkville to the developing reputation for becoming easily frustrated if an opponent challenged him, Cousins and his mother, Monique, painted a picture of being the victim, referring to DeMarcus as being a “target” and “piece of meat” and insisting that his reputation for being a malcontent was completely out of context and unfair.
I’m not naïve enough to dispute that Cousins was a target for some people or he was treated like a piece of meat. And I can’t fault Monique for protecting her son any way she could—even if it meant three schools in three years and vehemently defending her son against portrayals inconsistent with her idea of the young man she raised. His coach at LeFlore, Otis Hughley, sided with mom and said, “On the court he may be tough, but off the court he’s scared of the dog. He’s not a wussy kid, but he’s a sweet kid. I don’t know anyone that’s met him that doesn’t like him.”
Unfortunately, there’s no guide to raising a basketball prodigy which is exactly what Cousins was. Since the internet has claimed and archived so many moments of his teenage life that should’ve remained private, we can look at his development through the lens of time and realize that Cousins’ questionable behavior—whether you call it outbursts, tantrums, passion, emotion, motor—was allowed to grow, develop and settle in as part of his personality. More than likely, this was done to protect the young man. From the few quotes out there, Cousins has mentioned that he was bullied in junior high school. His biological father wasn’t present either. He had a strong relationship with Hughley and when John Calipari coached him at Kentucky, he had this to say in June of 2010, just after Cousins was drafted by Sacramento, “I coached him like he was my son, and he needs that. In fact, he and my (13-year-old) son (Brad) would play video games and I’d say (to Cousins), ‘You guys are the same age.’ He’s one of those kids that needs to be hugged, loved. Don’t act like he’s a grown man. He’s a growing man.”
Filling in the portrait of DeMarcus as a young man, I kept making connections between the youth of Cousins and Shaquille O’Neal. Shaq’s step-father, “Sarge” (Philip Harrison) is likely the most-referenced person in his auto-biography (or maybe it just seems that way because of the repeated references to physical and mental abuse—another post, another day) and while I can’t even get close to condoning Sarge’s method, the more I read about Cousins, the more I felt he needed (and maybe still needs) someone to hold him accountable, someone who wouldn’t let him hold his head down when classmates called him a “waste of space,” someone to get in his ass when the shoulders slumped and the nostrils flared, someone who wouldn’t let him run away when the shit hit the fan—three high schools in three years, one year in college and just four games into his second NBA season when he was ready to run away again.
But he didn’t have that and nothing can be done to change the past. His time at Kentucky sounded like a positive, stable experience and even after he was drafted by the Kings, Cousins was saying he wished he would’ve stayed in school. Even in that structured environment, he was involved in a couple of on-court incidents against Louisville, Vanderbilt and rumors had him fighting fans in South Carolina. And in his first season with the Kings, a franchise that went out of its way to provide stability for Cousins by hiring his former high school coach, Otis Hughley, Cousins got in a postgame locker room fight with teammate Donte Greene. Elbows, forearms, heated exchange with teammates … these things happen in competitive environments, but what separates Cousins from the majority of pro and college athletes is that reputation, that “dark cloud” as Cousins refers to it, that he’s unable or unwilling to take any responsibility for. It’s beneficial for pro franchises to keep these incidents behind closed doors and it sounds like the Kings organization has kept a lot of DeMarcus’s issues on the hush hush. Coach Paul Westphal explained it like this: “Everything that happens on a team does not become known to the public. This is how it should be. However, when a player continually, aggressively, lets it be known that he is unwilling/unable to embrace traveling in the same direction as his team, it cannot be ignored indefinitely,” and told Cousins there would be “less protection” from the team in disclosing future issues.
The people who care about DeMarcus Cousins can see the fighting, arguments, pouting, knee-jerk denials (“I have not demanded or requested a trade.” – Bullshit.) and see beyond the punk or the brat. Just like we can all see people in our lives (friends, family, co-workers, the dude in the mirror) who are doing too little with too much talent, who struggle to buy into their own ability and create their own personal obstacle courses which they clumsily navigate. And when you see these people and especially if you find it happening to yourself, you want to reach out with the utmost urgency and shake this man or woman out of whatever funk that lies so deeply in their soul, but it’s not that easy. You talk it over with them and have the same conversations and the same solutions come up and they nod because they get it just like you do. Then the same behaviors crop back up, bad habits creep around the corner like the bad humor man delivering another sick joke. You sympathize and feel the pain and cut them a bit of slack because you love and care about this person, but at some point, maybe today, tomorrow or yesterday, you deliver your message with a little less meaning and it doesn’t mean you give up; it just means it’s on them to figure it out. For DeMarcus Cousins, there’s a world of basketball fans and media out there, sympathetic and unsympathetic (does it even matter?), watching closely, I mean up in his face, breath hot on the side of his 21-year-old stubble-covered cheek, watching and waiting. DeMarcus has already proven the ride’s going to be entertaining; regardless of the ending.
Wednesday night was a fun one. I was camped in my usual spot on the couch, NBA TV kicking out basketball magic alongside early-season ineptitude (we see you, Utah!) for multiple hours straight. I switched over to the Oklahoma City-Memphis game just after halftime and had the opportunity to see Dancing with Noah favorite; Russell Westbrook struggle through a historically poor shooting night (see image below—courtesy of NBA TV). So far through three games of the young 2011-12 season, Little Bigs is averaging six turnovers/game and shooting 31% from the field while taking 17 shots/game. The laws of averages tell us that Russ will return to his norms and I believe in those laws. I also believe in trends and reality.
Dating back to the playoffs last year (17 playoff games and three regular season games), Russ is shooting under 40% and averaging close to five turnovers per game. His win shares are as poor as they’ve been his entire career and last night we finally saw a little public spat between Westbrook and Saint Durant. Arguments don’t imply divorce. I argue with my fiancée and I’ve gotten in pissing contests with my friends and had heated disagreements with teammates, so fights alone don’t mean the Westbrook/Durant partnership can’t thrive and continue to blossom. In all the fights I’ve been in, I wanted to work through to a solution and find a compromise. The argument we saw last night was probably nothing more than a heat of the moment thing, but going back to the playoffs last year, I can’t help but wonder about Westbrook’s self-image and intent. Does he see himself as a sidekick or the leading man? Is it 50/50? Is he confused? Am I confused? Am I speculating about shit that doesn’t really exist? Have I asked all these questions in the past and am I repeating my own mistakes searching for answers to hypotheticals that exist only in these confines?
I meant this to just be a quick little blurb, but I’ve slipped into a mini black-hole of curiosity where Russell Westbrook reigns and shoots pull up jumpers on fast breaks and is fueled by a smoldering desire to prove to someone, anyone that he can do it on his own. The “it” is whatever he defines it as.
As long as OKC keeps winning and everyone (Durant, Russ, Scott Brooks, Sam Presti) keeps saying the right things, these sub-par performances and chemistry questions will remain open-ended parts of the drama that spruce up the narrative, but don’t factor into its ending. If/when those things change is when we’ll be able to attach substance to Russell’s saga. It’s been a bad start to 2011-12 for Russ, but it can only get better than the misery he ran into last night:
Excuse this departure from the team-by-team previews (which may or may not ever be completed) as I recently participated in a highly informal NBA round table. It was a cold Thursday night in Des Moines, Iowa when I rendezvoused at the local Buffalo Wild Wings with Bug, Milton and Rex. The primary reason for going was sixty-cent boneless wings and there were 7-10 different sporting events being shown on the 50” screens that surrounded us, but after dinner and a few beers it was time to break out the napkins, locate a pen and attempt to sloppily break down the then-pending NBA season.
We didn’t start out with any goals in mind and didn’t end up achieving anything, so to that end, it was a success. The distractions were aplenty and mostly of the liquid variety, yet we were able to arrive at a loose consensus of the 16 teams we expect to make the playoffs and the order they’ll finish. We tackled the Eastern Conference first:
The main thing I recall from the Eastern Conference discussion was Milton’s distaste at the Knicks projected fifth seed. He despises D’Antoni’s perceived lack of commitment to defense and it showed in the venom he spewed forth and his insistence that Philly would finish ahead of NYK. Calmer heads prevailed. The other hot topic was Bucks vs. Pacers for the honor to be the sacrificial lambs to Gods of Miami. Grand ideas indeed.
As you can see by the napkin below, the Western Conference analysis deteriorated or evolved (really open to interpretation) in depth, but sacrificed quality with comparisons being drawn between injury-prone players like Devin Harris and Andrew Bynum and the comparative value to their teams. The biggest argument here was between the four and five seeds—Lakers or Mavs; which was really just a debate about who would get home court advantage. Also, Milton refused to attach his name to a Clippers number two and instead preferred the veteran Spurs for that spot.
If you’ve read any of my team preview posts, you probably picked up on the theme of excited curiosity that surrounds the unknown. We all know what Derrick Rose and Dwight Howard and Samuel Dalembert are capable of doing, but we’re still learning about young players and guys who have switched uniforms.
With that that in mind, I was tickled last night as I sat on my couch, New Castle in hand, feet kicked up and landed the remote on the OKC @ Minnesota game. There was that Russell Westbrook whipping and snapping all over the court, a new haircut for Nick Collison, a DC battle between Beasely and Durant, and then the Spanish question mark Ricky Rubio. Yeah man, I was all skeptical about Rubio. Skeptical about his defense. Skeptical about his foot speed. Skeptical about the hype. I wasn’t quite hating on the kid, but I wasn’t supportive either and I can make a case that I wasn’t even fair in regards to his NBA potential.
I’m fully aware that 26 minutes and 18 seconds doesn’t count for much of a sample, but watching Rubio thread passes through the tiniest and tightest of lanes and openings had me stroking the stubble on my chin and nodding in agreement: Yes, that’s a man who can pass. The passes he made were hard enough to see let alone execute and he repeatedly threw these passes without making a single turnover. Ahhh … it was a breath of fresh air and for Minnesota fans, you people (whatchu mean, you people?!?! – it’s not even like that) should be rejoicing in the name of all that is round, leather and flies through a steel rim:
“Why does shit like this always happen to my rotten ass?” – R.L.H.
The man who said the words above probably didn’t realize he was speaking for the downtrodden and hard luck of the world when he spoke those words of frustration and exasperation. Nor did he realize I’d be using his words to describe a sentiment shared by Portland Trail Blazers fans from sea to shining sea, but here we are…
The Blazers’ injury and draft-related woes have been re-told as a cautionary tale to would-be GMs for years like some kind of pro basketball boogeyman creeping in the knees and joints of promising Portland players, just waiting to strike when the time is worst. Brandon Roy and Greg Oden are the latest victims of said boogeyman, but Darius Miles, Sam Bowie (different circumstance) and Bill Walton find themselves associated with some variety of Rose City fever. To be fair, Bowie and Oden had the misfortune of preceding Michael Jordan and Kevin Durant in the draft; a sin so egregious that both men’s names will be forever intertwined with the Hall of Famers who came after them.
As much as I fantasize about an encyclopedic-length Choose Your Own Adventure novel based on NBA scenarios that could’ve, but didn’t happen (guarantee I’ll revisit this idea multiple times in the future), reality still looms with its cold hands and dark mornings. Despite the Roy/Oden apocalypse, the Blazers’ 2011-12 reality is much more comfortable than the unforgiving steel of a coroner’s cold table—which is where Roy’s career sadly resides. Mourning is a necessary part of the grieving process, but let’s not lose sight of the potentially exciting group Portland’s pieced together beginning with a man who’s blossomed over his five-year career: Mr. LaMarcus Aldridge. Prior to last season, I never liked his game and considered him soft by NBA standards. At 6’11” with broad shoulders, athleticism, balance and coordination, he was far too talented to get seven boards a night over his first three seasons. In Roy’s absence last season, Aldridge matured and seemed to become tougher, smarter and more polished at the same time. If I’m holding him to the All-NBA standards he’s achieved, the only thing I can ask is for him to continue improving his rebounding. 8.8 boards per game still seems like an underachievement. The other area of concern is that Aldridge just had the second heart surgery of his career for a condition called Wolff-Parkinson-White Syndrome. From all reports and internets, it’s not a life or career-threatening issue, but damn … can a Blazer fan go through an anxiety-free season?
It’s a fun cast of characters with Aldridge. Raymond Felton’s back it with the weight issues and while it’s easy to make jokes about fat NBA players, Felton’s Ricky Hatton-esque off-season weight gain habit hasn’t prevented him from steadily improving as a pro point guard. He’ll be spelled by recent signing, the 50-point mercenary, Jamal Crawford who returns to the Northwest in a homecoming of sorts (he’s a Seattle product). Crawford has always been a mesmerizing player on the offensive side of the ball based on his lean, lanky physique and heat check-ability. His limbs are made of rubber which allows him to make cuts and do things with the ball that other humans are physically unable to do (except for Rajon Rondo, who seems to be from a similar planet). In another era (like the 70s), I feel like the Big JC would’ve been adored for the effectiveness of his on-the-court trickery and competed with Earl Monroe or George Gervin for icon status. Yep, I like me some Jamal Crawford and hope to someday write an e-book about him that uses Youtube clips for footnotes and celebrates his underrated contributions to physical creativity, artistry and inventiveness.
The Gerald Wallace/Nicolas Batum tag team isn’t quite as fresh as Jamal, but Crash and Batum should provide ample highlights. Batum’s one of those players who’s always overrated by video game developers and thus gets overrated by some percentage of video game-playing NBA fans simply because he’s good on a video game. The reason the pixelated version of Batum is nice is because two of his best skills translate perfectly to the gaming realm: Dunking and shooting threes. Is this the year the real-life version (just turned 23 and already has three years of experience in the NBA) lives up to the promise foretold by NBA 2K11? Or will he have to play second fiddle to Wallace’s maniacal efforts?
There are other Blazers of intrigue like Wes Matthews, Marcus Camby and the Rhino, Curt Smith and owner Paul Allen, who happens to be a bit stranger than I realized. Unfortunately, it’s the absences of Brandon Roy and a hobbling Greg Oden that continue to attract the headlines. Even if this group of players is able to make the playoffs and advance out of the first round for the first time since 2000, we’ll all witness it under the burning question … what if they had a healthy B. Roy and Oden? And what that happens, just look back to the quote at the beginning of this post.
Milton pitching in to cover the Warriors and the crew Don Nelson left them with.
For the roughly 20 years I’ve been a basketball fan with any level of cognitive awareness, the Golden State Warriors have been an intriguing franchise. From Run TMC, to the infancy of Chris Webber’s career to Sprewell vs. Carlisemo there has been no shortage of topics to dissect and debate. For 11 of the last 23 years Don Nelson coached this franchise. Those 11 years were not in succession – Nelson’s tours with GSW were from 88-95 and 06-10 – but the influence of his alchemy appears to have been so prevalent that no other coach could find success. As if Nellie poisoned the East Bay waters, the 12 other seasons GSW was coached by another man were all sub .500 finishes. Nellie wasn’t without his own poor seasons (34-48 in 93, 26-56 in 2010) but he led GSW to .500 or better in 6 of 11 years at the helm.
In 2007 the 8th seeded Warriors pulled off the improbable by knocking off MVP Dirk Nowitzki and his vaunted, 67-15 Mavericks. That GSW group was full of perimeter players who created mismatches on offense and utilized toughness to bang with bigger guys defensively. The outcome was viewed by some as affirmation that Nellie’s mad scientist approach can bring to life a contender. The reality is they got hot at the right time and Stephen Jackson scared the crap out of Dirk.
Since then GSW has tried desperately to get that swagger back. Cap’n Jack, Jason Richardson and Baron Davis are long gone. In their place, Nellie acquired the likes of Matt Barnes, Al Harrington and Corey Maggette and things haven’t been the same since. Monta Ellis might be the fastest player in the NBA but he gives up so much defensively that the overall impact of his speed is negligible. Stephen Curry’s playmaking and defensive abilities have surprised me; however he appears better suited to play the two. His best skill is his jumper and his instinct tells him to shoot first and ask questions later. Andris Biedrins had one solid year and has since been injured or disengaged. How can you blame him for losing focus when Nellie didn’t even suit the same players up on a nightly basis from 08-10?
Near the end of Nellie’s second tenure with GSW, stories began to emerge about his affinity for liquor. Whether true or not, things had gone so awry in GSW that I often pictured Nellie wobbling drunkenly into the locker room on game nights like Jimmy Dugan in A League of Their Own. The end was near and everyone knew it. But after a long night of drinking comes the inevitable hangover.
Keith Smart coached the Warriors last year and the results were mixed, but mostly disappointing. The final tally was 36 wins and 46 losses but what do we really know about Smart as a coach? Not much. How can we judge him? He tried to play a more conventional style with a team of Nellie ballers.
Two key additions to last year’s squad who didn’t endure the bizarre Nellie experience, David Lee and Dorell Wright, provided solid production. Wright contended for Most Improved Player and Lee bounced back from a freakish tooth-in-the-elbow injury to average nearly a double-double (16.8, 9.8 reb). Lee and Wright are above average players but it’s hard to fit in with a Nellie roster if you’re not a Nellie player. Klay Thompson was selected with a lottery pick and is expected to contribute immediately. He’s got the pedigree (former Laker Mychal Thompson is his father) and can shoot the ball. Ekpe Udohis long and has potential but looks more like Thabeet than Mutombo.
Smart didn’t make it to a second year. An ownership change may have necessitated a move at head coach but the hire is still perplexing. Mark Jacksonhas never coached in the NBA as an assistant or a head coach. He was one of the finer players at his position in his era (and a mediocre announcer). The challenge for Jackson will be to combine the Nellie players (Monta, Biedrins, Udoh and to a lesser extent Steph Curry) with non-Nellie players (Lee, Wright, Thompson, Brandon Rush) to find a suitable team identity. It won’t be easy … certainly not for a coach with no experience. And word is he wants this team to focus on defense.
Nellie hosted an enjoyable party with booze aplenty, but for Golden State’s loyal and basketball wise fans, the hangover still lingers. The challenge for this great fan base is to keep downing the Advil and Gatorade and hope the headache slowly goes away. Another trip to the lottery is likely in the works.
I remember the first and only time I stepped foot in the Bradley Center like it happened seven or eight years ago. It was a cold Milwaukee night in November and I was with a few college buddies making the trek from Iowa City up north. The police officers took jaywalking seriously and made some threats which we took seriously. Then we made it inside and my recollections get fuzzy. I remember the 23-year-old version of me being impressed by the dinginess of this NBA arena that seemed sepia-toned like I was watching the game through the lens of an old photo. The Kobe/Shaq Lakers beat the Bucks in what was a mostly forgettable game, but memories drift to the lower end of indifference … similar to how I felt when I sat down to write this preview.
The 2011-12 version of the Bucks are a most uninteresting collection of interesting individuals. Their owner is long-time Wisconsin Senator, Herb Kohl. I don’t know much about Kohl except a story I heard once from a friend who occasionally travels to DC for work. Kohl’s worth hundreds of millions of dollars, but piddles around the nation’s capital in a model of simplicity—a Ford Taurus. I realize there are plenty of thrifty millionaires, but given that Kohl owns an NBA team, this contrast found a way to stay stuck in my mind and I’ve always had an appreciation of Kohl since. (I hope the story’s true.)
Moving down the ladder a few rungs, we find Coach Scott Skiles who, from afar and second-hand accounts, appears to be possessed with a deep, unquenchable intensity. The kind of intensity that overrides any logic and convinces engage your teammate in physical battle … even if he’s 7’1”, 300+ pound Shaquille O’Neal and you’re 6’1”, 180lbs Scott Skiles. This temperament underlining a point guard’s skill set and vision is the primary genesis of the 2011-12 Bucks’ theories and strategies. I’ve always been curious about how the 47-year-old drill instructor of a coach gets along with his swag-heavy 22-year-old point guard, Brandon Jennings.
We know some of Jennings’s story: the preps to Euro-pros move, the 55-point game as a rookie, the streaking quickness and an Under Armour sponsorship that won’t quit. If you don’t have League Pass or NBA TV, there’s a good chance you’ve seen Jennings’s unorthodox (for a basketball player) workouts in commercials (Bosu planks and pushups, exercises to strengthen the core and improve balance, jumping and touching the ball against the backboard over and over, etc) more than you’ve actually seen him in a Bucks uniform. The workouts, like much of what Jennings does, are designed and promoted as new, fresh, ahead of the game which he’s always presented himself as: from the high-top fade at the McDonald’s All-American game to skipping college to make some money and play in Europe to the faux hawk to signing an endorsement deal with a non-basketball traditional shoe company to his gritty, sweat-drenched, highly marketed workouts—Brandon embraces the new. But his coach embodies the old; he was emblematic of the old even when he was a younger player—short shorts, receding hairline, Indiana roots. Having played the same position and the point guard being a natural extension of the coach makes this a fascinating relationship that happens to be part of the role dynamics of the NBA and pro sports; it’s just that stylistically, Jennings and Skiles couldn’t be much more of a study in contrasts.
Sticking with Jennings; we also know he’s capable of nuclear scoring outbursts like the 55 he droped … in his seventh game … as a rookie. No rookie since Earl the Pearl Monroe (aka, Black Jesus) scored 56 in 1968 has done better than Jennings. If his nickname was Black Jesus, what’s that make Jennings? In one 48-minute stretch, Jennings expanded the possibilities of his own personal stratosphere and simultaneously raised the expectations of the pro basketball public. That was 2009 and it’s his most definable moment and will be tough to overcome since we all only have one rookie season for each career we choose. It will always be a special marker of the Brandon Jennings narrative, but the progression of his career will determine its prominence.
The Bradley Center might be a big warehouse with some seats and a couple baskets, but Andrew Bogut’s raucous group of fans called Squad 6, the Fear the Deer campaign and now Stephen Jackson’s inclusion have filled the arena and its Euro-style fans with some fun and hopefully a few more wins. On the fun (or worrisome) side of things, Jackson’s a wild card and Bogut’s known for being outspoken and averse to biting his tongue. Jennings and Skiles have co-existed through two seasons, but Skiles has a way of wearing teams down with his intense approach. For Milwaukee beat reporters, there should at least be plenty of quality post-game quotes.
Among others, these are the first questions that come to mind when I think about the potential of this team:
Has Andrew Bogut’s elbow finally healed? The man shot 44% from the free throw line last year. Bucks fans can only hope this was an injury-related 44%.
Will Brandon Jennings’s video-documented workouts make him a better player? He claims the weight work is preceding a style change that will include more penetrating and less three-chucking (over two years, he’s shot 4.8 threes/game—bad enough for 15th most 3pa/game and the worst 3p% of any of the players who shot more than him).
Has Carlos Delfino recovered from his post-concussion symptoms from last season? We’ve seen Justin Morneau in baseball, Sidney Crosby in hockey, Delfino in the NBA and who can possibly count the number of NFL-related head injuries. It’s spooky to think about how little we knew about concussions 10, 20, or 30 years ago.
Stephen Jackson?
The more time I spend contemplating this Bucks team, the more I find myself being drawn into the complex players, relationships and talents that make up the group. I don’t know what to expect on the floor, but it hinges on a combination of the questions above and the chemistry that does or doesn’t develop in the locker room. I’m not quite ready to Fear the Deer, but I’ll proceed with necessary caution.
The first post I ever wrote here was about the indefensible mugging the Spurs were receiving at the hands of a young, hungry, relentless Memphis Grizzlies team. After finishing the regular season with the West’s best record, the thousands of minutes and hundreds of games spanned over more than a decade worth of pro basketball had caught up with the great Tim Duncan and his associates. Now heading into another season at age 35, how should we feel about the present version of this all-time forward/center and the men who have flanked him in battle all these years?
As a sport consuming culture, we’ve become accustomed to watching our heroes transition from immortality (21pts, 20rebs, 10asts and 8blks—in a game six Finals clinching win) to flesh and bones mortals (6pts, 7rebs—against the Grizzlies in the playoffs last year—on his birthday!) on a gradual, measured decline with little reminders of previous greatness coming with less and less frequency. There’s nothing to be sad about here unless we fail to recall the past individual and team glories and with the ever-living online archive, this shouldn’t be a problem. Growing old and decaying is part of the deal; we just watch our athletes play out this sequence on the digitized, highly defined stages of ABC, TNT and ESPN while we experience our own in relative privacy.
What the fuck does any of this have to do with the San Antonio Spurs besides the fact that Tim Duncan has inevitably aged? (speaking of inevitably aging, if there was one player to make a deal with the devil or maybe one of the devil’s representatives, who would it be? I know the easy answer is Kobe, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Durant or Dwight… for completely different reasons—another post for another day) The Spurs as a collective have aged. Manu Ginobili is suddenly 34, Tony Parker 29, Antonio McDyess (if he returns) 37, DeJuan Blair’s knees alone are over 40. The youth movement that began with George Hill and ended with George Hill has been swapped out for an even younger player who has hands big enough to palm three basketballs at once … while texting with the other hand at the same time! Kawhi Leonard’s hands are freakishly large, but he’s more than a set of huge mitts. He’ll likely challenge Richard Jefferson for playing time at the three. So there’s at least an eye to the future, but in San Antonio, it’s difficult to catch a clear view of the horizon over the receding shoulders of an exiting Duncan.
Among the living legends roaming the streets of San Antonio is the most ancient of all: Gregg Popovich, the Garry Kasparovof NBA coaches. The fact his name has two ‘Gs’ only adds to the mystique. Pop’s success with an aging roster playing an updated style is indicative of his powers both as a visionary and a manager. 2011 proved the old wizard still had the magic; he just didn’t have the tools. What does 2012 have in store?
What’s so different about the Spurs’ decline and that of the Suns? I asked myself this while I was walking home earlier and while the differences were numerous, the Suns had romance and dreams on their side while the Spurs were coldly analytical and capable of merely living out their dreams. Mike D’Antoni’s constant middle finger pointed in the direction of convention and the Lakers won the Suns fans far beyond Arizona’s borders. The Spurs were real, practical and boring as hell to the average basketball fan. They played defense and made mid-range bank shots and gave quality minutes to the Matt Bonners and Bruce Bowens of the pro basketball world. The only Spur who designed outside the lines was and still is Manu and even his rejection of conventional American-style basketball somewhat seemed to fit in with the Spurs. Controlled improvisation? Practiced spontaneity? Who could be so confident as to say? There were and are drastic differences between these two clubs and in the end it mostly had to do with what could’ve happened versus what did happen.
If you want immortality, set a record. The flesh tears and bones break. Immortality is for numbers and ideas. The Spurs have done a masterful job with this group and extended the shelf life and entertainment value further than it probably should’ve gone, but I’m unsure, uncertain what happens next or what needs to happen next. There’s the simple answer: It’s a business. Then there’s the reality of it: We’re humans, the Spurs front office is filled with humans and its arena is filled with humans who’ve adopted Duncan and Friends like travelers on a shared road with a shared destination. I don’t know what will happen, but I’d be happy to supply the booze and pull up a chair for a chat with Popovich and RC Buford and hear their honest, unspun, unfiltered, unabbreviated, unabridged thoughts on the future of these San Antonio Spurs.
Around the same time the Great Recession hit Detroit, something happened to what felt the Midas Touch (Darko aside) Detroit Pistons General Manager Joe Dumars possessed. The Recession crippled Detroit as bad as any city in the country. City Mayor and former Pistons guard, Dave Bing resorted to bulldozing buildings and vacant houses, downsizing a city once that once stood for the blue collar industriousness of an entire nation. Across the way in Auburn Hills, a team built on the same ethos as its city, right down to their gritty slogan, “If it ain’t rough, it ain’t right,” paralleled the city’s decline. Sport imitating life?
It was a swift fall from NBA grace (59 wins in 2007-08 to 39 wins in 08-09 to 27 wins in 09-10) for the Eastern Conference’s standard bearer of the mid-2000s, but the team changed for the worse, just like its home city. For Detroit, it appears to be a surface-level change. The auto industry might be smarter, leaner and more efficient, but the labor force still drives the final product. The Pistons? Dumars? Not so sure Charlie Villanueva for over $35 mill and Ben Gordon for $58 million is smart, lean or efficient.
I’ve read and heard Joe’s supporter’s claims that his hands have been tied over the past few years while Pistons’ ownership was in limbo. It’s hard to believe that line when Dumars is on the hook for the above amnesty-worthy contracts or the severely flawed, 54-game Allen Iverson experiment. Did Joe just get lucky with Billups, Rip Hamilton, Tayshaun Prince, the Wallaces and Larry Brown? Or is he a savvy GM chomping at the bit to build one more winner?
For the here and now, the Pistons are about as exciting as bread sandwiches. They’re a mix of young and old with two ties to the championship squad of 2004 remaining: Prince and Big Ben Wallace. Rip Hamilton and his mask have finally departed, leaving the two-guard spot to the aforementioned Gordon; a 6’3” guard whose style and physique recall the Microwave, Vinnie Johnson. In Detroit, Gordon’s efficiency has taken a slight dip to his pre-Pistons career, but his opportunities have dried up—minutes/game (down 15%), shots/game (down 30%)—and impacted his productivity. At point guard, Rodney Stuckey may or may not return, but what impact does this 50 Cent doppelganger really have? Is there a drastic drop-off from Stuckey to Will the Thrill Bynum or rookie guard, Brandon Knight? The lineup data at 82games.com says yes as Stuckey consistently appeared in the Pistons most productive lineups. The backcourt isn’t depressing unless you’re in search of the next Isaiah/Dumars or Billups/Hamilton. If you’re cool with an average-to-slightly-above-average backcourt, then you’ll love Detroit’s backcourt.
Nine of out of ten basketball fans agree the chief (no Parish) reason they tune into Pistons games is to see Greg Monroe. The remaining one of ten is player’s families and Jonas Jerebko fans (don’t sleep on Jerebko). In his first season in Detroit, Monroe showed a keen and practical basketball mind. Imagine a bespectacled Monroe reading the channels and dimples of a basketball. This is the guy I see. At 6’11”, Monroe’s smooth and comfortable passing out of the high or low posts, provides coverage on the boards and proved capable of scoring—although we didn’t see him presented with too many scoring opportunities as a rookie. New coach Lawrence Frank has referred to him as a “hub” on offense. I like it, but I’m not sure if it’s more of a compliment to Monroe’s versatility or an indication of the rest of the Pistons’ offensive woes.
After the toxic stench that permeated last year’s locker room and nearly led to a mutiny; a new owner and coach probably make the early season feel like one long Sunny Sunday morning. Rip, T-Mac and Kuester have all left the building, leaving Dumars and Frank to work overtime to rebuild this team. Success won’t happen overnight and it’ll take some creativity to escape the Gordon/Villanueva mistakes, but as the architect of the only NBA champion of the past 20 years to not revolve around the gravity of at least one superstar, Joe’s proven capable of being successful by taking a different route.
I never intended to write about the league’s two worst teams over the past five years in back-to-back posts, it just came together this way and now we’re taking a trip down I-5 to the capital of Cali and home to one of its four NBA teams: Sacramento. Since the breakup of the Chris Webber Kings, a pall has been cast over the Kings-crazy fans of Sacto. Webber was traded on February 3rd, 2005 and while the Kings managed to remain afloat in the Western Conference for a couple years after, things officially bottomed out in the 2008-09 season when they won a franchise low 17 games. It’s been off ever since with the franchise building a young team around strong draft picks who, while entertaining, have proven to be success-challenged—this of course depends on your definition of success.
The reams of losing over the past three seasons haven’t stopped Sacramento fans from showing up and supporting their team in what almost feels like an endearing manner. How else could you love this motley crew that doesn’t get more motley than their 21-year-old center, DeMarcus Cousins; a headband-wearing giant ball of emotion and talent. Watching the young Cousins, it doesn’t take long to see he has a feel for the game that far exceeds his level of experience. It’s one thing when we see a young point guard like Omar Cook whip passes into spaces that only a fraction of the basketball-playing population could recognize, it’s something altogether different and refreshing to see the rare rookie center make passes and plays that defy the unoriginal standards and expectations we place on positions and ages. Then there’s the dark side to DeMarcus, an internal fury that feels Vesuvianly intense and is indiscriminate in choosing targets—the opposition, teammates, refs, coaches, me, you?
The Kings are more than their moody big man. They’re a collection of redundancy which is also referred to as depth. Francisco Garcia, John Salmons (picked up in the off-season) and Donte Greene seem as interchangeable as different brands of socks. Garcia adds more defensively, Salmons possesses a greater scorer’s mentality, but may have an inflated sense of his skills and Greene’s the youngest which means someone, somewhere is still waiting for him. In the backcourt, Tyreke Evans, Marcus Thornton and now Jimmer Fredette and even the last pick in the draft, Isaiah Thomas, each brings a shoot-first mentality—they clearly bring more dimensions than shooting, but none of these guards are renowned for their passing. Being on the west coast, I’ve seen quite a few Kings’ games over the past two years and have seen in Evans a talented player who makes awful decisions; particularly in crunch time. When you’re the best and most talented player on your team at 20-22-years-old, there are going to be growing pains, but Evans, and the Kings by extension, could benefit from a true point guard. The data at 82games.com indicates the Kings’ best lineups last year consistently included Beno Udrih who functioned primarily at the point. This truth makes me scratch my head at Sacramento re-signing Thornton and trading for Fredette. By another token, last year’s squad (24 wins) wasn’t exactly making people forget about Webber’s Kings.
JJ Hickson (acquired in a summer trade for Omri Casspi), Chuck Hayes (just signed) and Jason Thompson join Cousins on the front lines for Sacramento. It’s a serviceable, workmanlike crew that isn’t likely win any beauty contests, but collectively knows its role. In terms of intrigue, I rank these guys Cousins, then Hickson.
In what could be the final season for the Kings in Sacramento, the small similarities between the Kings and Sonics situations are just enough to revisit old scars: Ailing franchise coming up on the shoulders of future stars, franchise one foot out the door over some antiquated arena bullshit and a group fans who will suffer the most. The Kings belong in Sacramento and hopefully Kevin Johnson and crew can figure out a way to keep them there.
Dancing With Noah 