As our summer mainstay, Aaron's writing a 370-part series discussing almost every notable player who was -- as of last season -- getting minutes in the NBA. Intent is to get you talking, thinking, and appreciating the myriad of wonderful folks who play in our favorite sports league. Today we continue with Dexter Pittman, Mo Williams, and Juwan Howard.

• • •

Follow Dexter Pittman by throwing your entire weight into your friend's neck like a total jerk.

I tend to be a constant advocate of rookies and untested young players over worn down vets. In general, my thought goes, it's better to get new blood in the league and test out new players and styles than it is to rely on the old outmoded folks. If a player is in his mid-to-late twenties (or worse, mid-to-late 30s) without having ever made a cogent leap, signing him to be an end-of-the-bench asset is at the very best going to improve your team in the very short term, but in the long run his spot would be best filled if you rotated D-League talents until you found your own Jeremy Lin, Ben Wallace, or other undrafted gem. It takes more effort, mind you, and a larger focus on the part of the coaching staff and the front office devoted to developing young talent. But when it works right (See: Spurs, San Antonio) you'll have a scouting and player-molding system brilliant enough to keep an aging team with ever-present flaws and problems in constant drumbeat contention. Worse yet is when a player's been bad for two or three seasons and is edging into their late 30s -- you should never, in my view, be giving players like that decent-sized contracts if there's any way to test the waters with young blood, unless you absolutely only have a year or two to win a title with your core (a la the Kobe/Nash/Howard Lakers). If there's any chance you can keep your pieces (ahem, Miami!), you shouldn't waste all your money on vets who are edging ever so close to "fully washed up" -- you should be building a player development arm of the organization that can develop D-League talents to take those spots and excel in them. In my view.

If there's any single player that represents the flaws in that approach, it's probably Pittman. Immature (as we saw with his bush league performance in this year's playoffs), brash, and irrationally bad at basketball -- Pittman has very few NBA talents and has to some extent unreasonably squandered those he had to begin with. When Pittman entered the league, he was monstrously overweight for his relatively lacking height (and it wasn't "overweight with muscle", either). It took him almost two years to get his conditioning to an NBA-caliber level, and by the time he'd done that, the league had to some degree left him completely behind. In the meanwhile, he tried his hand at the D-League. He put up reasonably decent numbers (around 14 and 8 per game) but somehow managed to foul once every 7 minutes in the D-League. Generally, if you foul like that at the D-League level, you'll foul even quicker in the NBA -- this proved apt, as over his whole NBA career, Pittman is good for a foul every 4 minutes he stays on the court. His field goal percentage on right-at-the-rim shooting was OK (not phenomenal, and still below average, but above 60% is OK for a backup big man), but he simply can't do anything outside the immediate vicinity of the basket. No real success at post moves, absolutely no jump shot (and a tepid conversion rate from behind the free throw line), and poor NBA-level height and athleticism. Pittman's defense is, as well, pretty dang atrocious. He can't really cover NBA big men and he can't really guard the pick and roll. Even though he's gigantic, he can't even set very good screens unless he plays dirty. It's a rough picture for him.

The thing is, Pittman is still a better traditional big man than several of the abhorrent options the Heat have in their wheelhouse -- mainly, he can cogently outplay Juwan Howard and his game is far superior to Eddy Curry. Because of that, he can get a few minutes and show his "value" to the Heat by simply keeping those two off the court. But Pittman doesn't really bring anything to the table that you don't get from Turiaf (essentially a 100% upgrade to Pittman in every concievable fashion), he certainly doesn't outplay Udonis Haslem, and he's well short of Joel Anthony even on Joel's worst day. Compound that with the always-bears-repeating bush league hit he placed in last year's playoffs (which I maintain he should've gotten a LOT more time for -- that hit was about as dirty as hits come, and could've legitimately ended another player's career), and you have the absolute worst example of a player picked up as a young piece to complement stars. He doesn't seem to work particularly hard, he doesn't seem to care about the implications of his actions, and he doesn't seem to have enough talent to really stick in the league. In any development process you'll get a few bad apples, or talents that simply aren't what you expected they'd be. That's Pittman, I suppose. His failures don't really waver me from my general inclination towards higher D-League participation and fewer outmoded vets. But if anyone would do so, it'd probably be someone like him.

• • •

_Follow Mo Williams on Twitter at __@mowilliams._

Did you know that for a fleeting period of his career with the Cavaliers, Mo Williams was the Cavaliers' franchise leader in something important? Seriously. This is something I realized near the middle of the Cavs' nightmare 2011 season, as I tried to figure out how the players were feeling. I'm pretty sure Austin Carr mentioned it once, as well, as though he wasn't sure if it was still accurate but noted that it had been accurate at some point. I did the legwork, checked the numbers, and found that it actually checked out. So, the fact in question -- for a not-insignificant portion of Mo Williams' career, he was the Cavaliers' franchise leader in free throw percentage. Crazy, huh? The leader (predictably) is who was in a time before Mo -- Mark Price. With the Cavs, Price went 1883 for 2078 on his free throws -- that's 90.6%, which is an insane figure on that many tries. Most franchises don't have anyone in their history who was quite that good from the line. Mo, though -- Mo was. For a time. His first season with the Cavaliers, he took a relatively large 222 free throws (primarily by taking every possible technical, and drawing a decent number of fouls). He shot 91.2% on them. Eldritch. Thus, after his first complete season (you needed at least one full season for the leaderboard), Mo Williams had literally supplanted Mark Price as the player with the franchise-best Cavalier-career free throw percentage.

But there's a point to this story beyond the silly trivia. As I looked back, I realized that he'd lost the crown during the Cavs' ill-fated 2010 season. Realizing this, I wanted to see when Williams took the single missed free throw where Williams dropped behind Price, never to return to the top again. I wondered whether that individual game would make for a good case study. The harder I looked, the more hilarious the picture I found: Mo Williams actually lost the title extremely early in the 2010 season, but kept fighting back to take the lead from Price every couple games. For most of the season, essentially any missed free throw would make Williams jump behind Price, and any 5-of-5 type day would vault him fleetingly beyond Price. This back and forth went on for the entire 2010 season, with Mo taking his last ever lead over Price on April 8th, 2010, in an absolutely excellent 35-point 10-assist contest (yes, Mo Williams had a 35-10 game) against the Chicago Bulls. He went 5-of-5 from the line, 6-11 from three, and 12-24 from the field overall. It was a good day. Then, as luck would have it, Mo Williams missed two free throws on the closing night of the 2010 NBA season, taking his career Cavalier free throw percentage down to 90.3% and forever taking second place to Price's ridiculous accomplishment. As things probably should be, all things considered.

Still, you have to wonder if Mo knew about it. Given that Austin Carr did -- and given how often Austin Carr blabs about random statistical accomplishments when interviewing players -- you have to assume Carr told him. Did it bother him somewhat that every single night he performed at a less-than-perfect level from the line, he was essentially putting a small place in franchise history on the chopping block? There's something fundamentally strange about contextualizing the performance of excellent free throw shooters like Williams, Nash, and Price. We act like every player should shoot 70-80% from the line, but when you get up to a level above 90%, you're starting to reach levels of consistent absurdity that honestly boggle my mind. Every 10 times you go up to the line, you miss ONCE. You experience more absolutely perfect games from behind the line than you do games where you miss more than a single shot. And think about the free throw itself -- it's the single area of the game where the offensive player is completely and utterly alone. Sometimes there are players around him (except in the case of the technical, which represents the ultimate desolation you can exact on a single player in an NBA game), sometimes there are fans screaming at him, but the actual action of the free throw -- the dribble, the cup, the follow -- are all as untouched as they can possibly be. No defense can touch the free throw. No hands extended, no stoppers, nothing.

It's the single area of basketball where the sport feels like baseball, in my view. There are so many moments in a baseball game that essentially distill the game down to a single performer. The catch in outfield, the pitcher's wind up, the batter post-release -- a baseball team may have a lot of component pieces, but when you look at the component parts, it's a lonely game. In some ways, I think the loneliness and isolation of baseball both represents the main reasons it spent so long being considered "America's national pastime" and the main reason it's rapidly hemorrhaging popularity -- much like how Thoreau's Walden reads as an insane tract of a ridiculous outmoded ideal to most modern teenagers, in an era where we're so interconnected that we can barely imagine true isolation, the desolation of baseball is harder to stomach and harder to watch for people today than people many years ago. The free throw hearkens back to baseball, and while it's easy to point to a player and say "you should do this better", when you actually look at a player who not only does it better but actually does it to a level that approaches an all-time greatness, you wonder how the hell they actually do it. Physically, you can imagine they just have a very pure stroke. (And in the case of Williams, you'd be right -- he has one of the best shooting strokes in the league, and it's beautiful to watch him shoot just about anything.) But what about the mental implications? Does a good free throw stroke mean that a player would thrive in a one-on-one game, or a game of horse? Is it indicative of something deeper -- could Mo Williams be the single player in the league who'd excel playing basketball in the vastness of space?

Or could the loneliness of the action -- the singular quality of the free throw, or moreso, the technical -- be lost in the sheer surfeit of souls that fills a sports stadium? It's a fair question to ask -- does Mo draw strength from the crowds, or strength from the action's loneliness? Imagine Mo Williams, the last man on Earth. He enters an empty gym, somehow armed with the knowledge that if he makes a single technical free throw, the whole world is saved. He takes a dribble. The gym, of course, is empty. The lights are bright. Outside, asteroids rain down from the heavens and flames lick the countryside. There is a flicker in his mind. A thought. A bead of sweat. Tension. He takes his dribble, grabs the ball, and looks up. As he's done a thousand times before, he rises from the crouch. He releases the ball, with his signature flick. His eyes are closed on the release, sublime in perfect confidence. He steps back as though to dap his teammates, the dead and gone who were never relevant in the first place. He opens his eyes to gaze upon the ball rising through the air, and careening towards the immaculate basket. A fleeting reminder of man's imperfections before death takes the last, or another in Mo's assembly line of expected successes?

And thus, Mo Williams lost the record. Second place, forevermore.

• • •

Follow Juwan Howard by buying a telegraph and saying hello.

One of the underrated stories from the Heat's championship, to me, was Juwan Howard finally achieving (in his now-sparkling championship ring) some level of personal validation for a long, lucrative career where he'd never been completely able to really deliver on the incredible promise he showed as a child. Despite forming arguably one of the first-ever modern superteams with the Fab Five at Michigan (and subsequently attempting to form a superteam in Miami only to be thwarted by a series of not-necessarily fair applications of cap rules), Howard had never touched a championship trophy up until now. Nor had any of the Fab Five. If Howard retires now -- and all indications are that he will -- the fact that the Fab Five's last fossil achieved a ring on the backs of the most modern and overwhelming superstar team in the league is actually a pretty neat story. Deadspin's Barry Petchesky wrote one of the best pieces on the finals covering this angle, in fact -- I beg you to read it. It's really good.

Beyond that, one of the interesting things about the Heat's title (and as a Cleveland fan, there weren't many) was watching what the hell Juwan Howard would do if he actually tasted the championship bubbly. The answer? Ridiculous, ridiculous things. I'm talking "hey, guys, remember the 90s" dancing on national TV during the title celebration. I'm talking rapping with Rick Ross. I'm talking trying to fight John Wall because that's how they played basketball in the 1940s. Wait, that happened way before he won a title. Well, crap. Look. Juwan Howard is 86 and a half years old, okay? Dude has a walking cane, as you can tell by this unbelievably credible source. Back in the old days (like, before sliced bread) they used to play basketball a certain way but you can't really play that way today because the balls aren't made of fig leaves and the points actually do matter. Sorry, Juwan. I know you played the president on West Wing or whatever but you need to chill out about this stuff before someone gets hurt. Like, probably you, dude. Your back is killing me now. No reason to be whipping out your dance move (singular) while you rap with Rick Ross about the virtues of handkerchiefs and hit Erik Spolestra with your walking stick because he doesn't know how to use a threshing machine. Come on. Not cool. Just stay calm, man. Or, as some might say -- chill out, Juwan Howard.

(And enjoy retirement, if you do retire. Juwan seems like a pretty decent guy, jokes aside.)

• • •

At the end of each post, I'll be scribing riddles for the next group. Whoever gets the most right will get a shout out at the end of the next post. Tweet me your answers at @docrostov, or post them in the comments. After almost a week of straight perfectos, yesterday's guesses were a bit rough. Someone got each of them right, but nobody got every one of them. Tie to Brian, Jkim, and "Chilai out, Juwan Howard." New batch for tomorrow:

• There are very few people in the league I legitimately despise writing about. Player #157 is one of them.
• He's older than most people think, but Player #158 should still command a high price when his Bulls contract runs out.
• The white Jared Jeffries. Hilarious, witty, and a patently decent player. But -- it's true -- perhaps a bit overheralded for his skills.

Again, apologies for yesterday's absence. I am way too busy lately. Been in the office for 10-12 hours a day, and have work to do at home besides. Also, I'm livetweeting the first console game I'm ever playing (Red Dead Redemption) -- follow me on Twitter if you want to hear a man screaming about cougars from about 9-11 every night, like clockwork. See you tomorrow.

Continue reading

As our summer mainstay, Aaron's writing a 370-part series discussing almost every notable player who was -- as of last season -- getting minutes in the NBA. Intent is to get you talking, thinking, and appreciating the myriad of wonderful folks who play in our favorite sports league. Today we continue with Derrick Williams, Darius Morris, and Joel Anthony.

• • •

_Follow Derrick Williams on Twitter at __@RealDwill7.___

What if Derrick Williams could shoot? This is a big question that I (among many others, hat tip to Haberstroh) often ask when watching him ply his wares. Last season, in late February, the world was treated to a fine example of what that would look like -- he shot 9-10 against the hapless Clippers, powerless to stop a brutal onslaught of threes, free throws, and short post moves. It was a great performance, made all the more interesting by looking at the other players on his team -- other than Beasley, there were virtually no Timberwolves players that played all that well, including the entire starting lineup. Kevin Love put up 10-7 on sub-40% shooting. Ricky Rubio posted 9 assists to go with 2 points, in a relatively absent performance. Pekovic only played 22 minutes for a reason -- he looked bad. But on the back of Williams and Beasley, the Wolves upset a Clippers team that sported stellar nights from Griffin, Paul, and Jordan (seriously, look at his line). If nothing else, the performance demonstrates that when Derrick Williams is making shots, the entire complexion of the Timberwolves changes. Suddenly the margin of error is wrenched open, and even with the customary Timberwolves shaky defense, the offense is so good that just about every key piece can have a decidedly "meh" game and still go home with a victory. On the road. In the Staples Center!

Of course, there's a reason I framed the question as a curious "what if" statement instead of a simple "isn't that great" assertion. Up until now, Williams hasn't really displayed a strong ability to shoot. Actually, he's displayed the exact opposite. Despite making three three-pointers in one night for that excellent performance, over the entire rest of the season (65 games, 1390 minutes) he made only 34 more. This is despite playing most of his minutes with either Ricky Rubio (whose passing needs no introduction) or J.J. Barea (whose passing was actually relatively excellent on the Wolves this year, and spent a ton of time on the floor looking for Williams and trying to get him the ball). The average Derrick Williams night -- outside of that incredible one I linked above -- featured significantly less than one made three on two attempts a contest. That number is even worse than you might imagine -- of his 37 made threes on the season, 36 of them were assisted. This isn't some example of an excellent shot maker that isn't being set-up correctly -- all but one of Williams' made three pointers came off an assist, which tends to indicate a naturally poor level of shooting. Bad news.

If I had to pick a single comparable player, I'd probably pick Jeff Green. Completely forgotten in most assessments of the so-called Thunder model, Green represents something of the dark side of tweeners and athleticism (even if Boston is paying him as though he's a minor star). In Green, you have an undersized tweener that isn't really sized properly to play the wing, but sure as hell can't play the four in a reasonable lineup. He has yet to play a big role on an actual contending team -- he was always the limiting factor in Oklahoma City, whose only real purpose seemed to be keeping the far better Serge Ibaka off the court. That's exactly where Williams stands, unless he bulks up or fixes his shot. Like Williams, Green took a lot of awful jumpers and made astonishingly few of them, with the exception of a few shining moments that tended to give false confidence to his fans and make the Thunder wary of giving up on him. Williams is a bit of a better rebounder than Green was his rookie season (which makes it more likely he could someday ACTUALLY swing to the four rather than pretend to), and is less prone to turnovers and stupid fouls. Green was a bit better at creating an unassisted shot (40% of Green's made shots were unassisted -- with Williams, the percentage was 32%). Pick your poison, if you will.

But overall, if you're trying to figure out how Williams career projects out, I'd say a slightly better-on-the-boards Jeff Green is about as good as you'll get. Not with a shot as busted as his looks, anyway. It's possible that you could've seen this coming if you'd really thought about his skillset as he left college -- while he made over 50% of his three pointers in the 2011 Arizona season, he didn't shoot all that well from the long midrange in college and was coming off a first year in college where he made just 25%. Couple that with his collegiate free throw percentage (around 70%) and you don't really have an image of a sparkling, flawless shooter. His skillset indicated he'd be an athletic tweener whose size could hamper his defense until he learns to use his body properly at an NBA level. His rebounding was solid but not exceptional, his offense good but not incredible. There were simply a lot of questions as he made the leap as to what position he'd play, where he'd operate on the court, and how his game would adjust if he wasn't a great shooter. But most people simply shrugged it off, assumed he'd be able to shoot, and went with it -- some even chastised and eviscerated the Cavaliers for taking Kyrie Irving (a player whose college play DID legitimately indicate he was going to be a star in the NBA) over Derrick Williams. If Williams could develop a reliable shot, he could be a brilliant player. Up until now, though, he hasn't. And if he never does? Well, I'll be honest with you -- it's pretty hard to see where he really fits in the league.

• • •

_Follow Darius Morris on Twitter at __@dariusmorris4._

Darius Morris is a phenomenal three point shooter. Just ridiculous. Did you know that he made 44% of his threes in the 2012 season, 16th overall in the NBA? Ridiculous! It would be even more ridiculous and impressive if Morris hadn't taken just 9 threes in the entire season. But eve-- ... wait, he only took nine threes? Alright, cancel the effusive praise. Most people have a general understanding of randomness and the problem with small sample sizes, but let's use this as a teaching example -- had Morris made just a single less three, that percentage would've dropped to 33%, pedestrian at best. Had he made two less threes, he'd have shot a disturbingly bad 22% on the season. I've heard a lot of my Laker-loving friends refer with hushed reverence over the past few months to Morris' three point shooting mark. And I agree, 44% is very good. But with just nine shots, it's hardly an accurate reflection of Morris as a player, and his sub-40% shooting on non three point shots would tend to indicate that his ACTUAL proficiency for threes at an NBA level might be significantly lower. His form looks relatively solid, but given his college numbers and his general profile I'd dial back on the insane faith, just a touch. Speaking of college, Morris was a pretty good player there. At least in 2011 -- he scored 15 a night on just-under-50% shooting and ran the offense well, fueling a solid Michigan team to a near-upset of favored Duke and getting out of the college grind while the going was good. He proceeded to get drafted early in the second round, signing a minimum deal with the Lakers.

He didn't light the world on fire in his first year, although it's worth mentioning that Morris hardly got the chance to do it. Very few minutes for this guy. We'll see how he does next year with an extra dose of Nash and a full training camp to get acquainted with everyone. He could potentially be a big benefit for the Lakers, if he can bring his play up beyond that of Chris Duhon and get Nash some rest. On the "hopeful" side, he was pretty good in this year's summer league, showing off additional weight (crucial to becoming a real NBA-size player) and an ability to look better against lesser competition (he was the Lakers' best player, on a summer league team with Goudelock and Sacre). On the "not so hopeful" side, much like Derrick Williams, if you take out a single great performance (a 9-of-9 shooting night against the Summer Swaggin' Spurs) his numbers get significantly worse (a ridiculously bad 27% from three over the summer and -- if you take out his 9-for-9 night -- an astonishingly bad 25% from the field overall). While his numbers look fine in the aggregate, if shooting like that reflects his true talent level in the NBA, Morris isn't going to be long for the league. Worth noting, though -- from my eye-test level, he's finally gotten his fitness up to a place where he'll be able to take the grind of a full NBA season. If he has the skillset to be an actual NBA player, his fitness certainly won't keep him off the court this year, which is a good sign for Morris fans.

• • •

_Follow _Joel Anthony's example and live at the gym__.____

Believe it or not, Joel Anthony has a really compelling life story. In the first place, Anthony learned basketball from books. Not coaches, not Jordan -- books. The whole story is really neat, and I highly recommend this profile courtesy of Tom Haberstroh of the Heat Index -- long story short, there weren't any nearby coaches he could rely on when he picked up the game of basketball at the age of 16 after a growth spurt, and all he really had was a book with Alonzo Mourning on the cover. Seriously. He learned basketball from the pages of that book, and modeled his game off Alonzo Mourning's because he felt like shot blocking was a thing he could do. Anthony was cut from the first college team he tried out for, joined an AAU team, and ended up transferring to UNLV where he'd eventually make a sweet 16. Anthony never got drafted, and ended up getting picked up through an impressive summer camp with the Miami Heat. He has a really solid work ethic, which is something you really need if you're going to make it as an undrafted player in the NBA.

The more you think about it, the crazier the whole ordeal becomes -- Anthony picked up the game of basketball at the age of 16, which means it took him only 5 to 6 years to become one of the best few hundred basketball players on the planet. It would be like me, at my tender age of 22, randomly deciding I wanted to be a professional pianist and becoming one of the hundred or so best piano players in the world within 6 years. The amount of work it would take to do that would boggle the mind, and the amount of work it did take for Anthony to succeed boggles just as well. The sad thing is that despite how far Anthony's hard work got him, it's still not enough to guarantee success in the league. And it doesn't erase some of the fundamental flaws that weaken and cripple his overall game. Well, the one fundamental flaw -- because it's really a single problem that infects every element of his game. It's his hands. They're oddly proportioned and his hand-eye coordination isn't very good for an NBA player, no matter how hard he works at it.

This results in several huge problems for Anthony. First, he can barely catch the ball. LeBron, Wade, and Chalmers need to aim their passes to an absolute pinpoint level for Anthony to successfully corral them. Most players master the art of catching when they're young, but when you start the game of basketball at 16 and learn it from a book with no coach to drill you, you don't really get the chance to master that. Second, rebounds often pop out of Anthony's hands, which is a problem -- again, catching. Third, he's a poor finisher, mostly because of his hands. Those dang hands. Last year, Anthony got a lot of dap as a humongous defensive presence for the Heat. As I like Anthony personally it pains me to say this, but I have to disagree. He's a fantastic shot blocker, arguably the best in the league, but I don't love his general defensive game at all. He fronts on the pick and roll relatively well, but he's undersized for the position and can't body up larger players. His offensive limitations (and they're huge limitations, don't cut corners) make him hard to play unless he's in a situation where the other team's playing smallball and he can't get overpowered at the rim. He's too slow to bother large forwards but too small to cover fives. It's tough. If it wasn't for his shot blocking and his excellent weakside help, there wouldn't really be any reason to play him at all.

Which leads us to one of the most curious statistics I've ever come across. I don't know if this is the first time this has ever happened -- it probably isn't -- but it has to be rare. The 2011 Heat started Joel Anthony every single game of the 2011 finals. He averaged 21 minutes a contest and never played less than 10. Want to know how many minutes Joel Anthony played in the 2012 finals? Two. He played two minutes in game one, then he never saw the court again. I can't think of any situation where a team with very little roster churn went from starting a player -- who at the time hadn't even entered his 30s -- every single game of one year's finals to playing him a grand total of two minutes in the next year's finals. It speaks to the Heat's total realignment of how they played their stars, and the generally good job Spolestra did in finding the weak spots in the Heat rotations and fixing them. Even if it meant -- in some ways -- completely leaving a hard working player behind. While I hope Anthony recoups a bit this year, at this point, what you see is essentially what you get. A loveable gym rat who works incredibly hard but due to his one fundamental flaw can't really see the floor when the chips are down for a title team. More than any other Heat player, I'm happy he got a ring. I just wish he'd been able to contribute a larger part to it, after all his time with the franchise and all the work it took him to get there.

• • •

At the end of each post, I'll be scribing riddles for the next group. Whoever gets the most right will get a shout out at the end of the next post. Tweet me your answers at @docrostov, or post them in the comments. Jkim was our only 3/3 yesterday, which pushes his overall riddle record to a ridiculous 9/9. Jkim: who gave you the power to directly look into my mind?

• Every year, there seems to be one classless jerk who makes their franchise look like fools with an overly rough play in a playoff situation. Unfortunately, this one (Player #154) has a ring now.
• Someday, at the end of the world, there will be an empty gym. To the mellow tones of John Legend music, Player #155 will take the technical free throw to save the human race. Unfortunately for him, given his years on the Cavs as reference, he'll miss.
• Come on. Chill out, Player #156. That strut isn't impressing anybody.

Anyone catch yesterday's U.S. Open epic? One of the greatest tennis matches I've had the pleasure of watching. Congratulations to Andy Murray on a well deserved victory.

Continue reading

As our summer mainstay, Aaron's writing a 370-part series discussing almost every notable player who was -- as of last season -- getting minutes in the NBA. Intent is to get you talking, thinking, and appreciating the myriad of wonderful folks who play in our favorite sports league. Today we continue with Andrew Goudelock, Brian Scalabrine, and Ben Wallace.

• • •

_Follow Andrew Goudelock on Twitter at __@3goudelock.___

There's not a ton to say about Goudelock. It's not necessarily that he lacks the talent to play in the league, but he's really not getting the time to really say whether or not he does. Uncertainty is the name of the game. Laker fans may cry foul and point to his run of good games early last season, scoring (in succession) 14, 13, 12, and 13 points in late January and early February. I'd refute that by noting that even in that stretch, Goudelock was criminally undersized for his position and incredibly permissive on the defensive end. For the stretches he had to play point guard, he was a relatively awful passer -- he doesn't have the next level court vision that makes an NBA point guard successful, and his dribble is pretty shaky too. He throws these awful telegraphed passes that are both easy to pick off and inefficient even when they work. He's only a two-guard because he really has nowhere else to go -- his defense is so awful he couldn't possibly play the three spot, and with passing like this, he's about as effective at the one as Kobe would be at the five. Still, theoretically, he's a decent player -- he has the gusto to create his own shot against taller and rangier players, and the ability to make quite a few. He shot 37% from three last season, which is rather excellent in a system that featured no real point guards for the majority of his minutes -- it's not hard to imagine Steve Nash upping a spot-up shooter like Goudelock's percentage to 40 or over, if Nash is still good next year.

Unfortunately for Goudelock, that probably isn't going to happen. The ongoing crunch for playing time looks to get even worse this season. Last year, he was only really "challenged" in the rotation jam for Kobe's off-minutes by Steve Blake. More specifically, Mike Brown's lock-him-in-an-asylum type fixation on playing Steve Blake as an off guard. This year, though? The Lakers picked up Jodie Meeks, a player who is essentially superior to Goudelock in every single area of the court Goudelock excels at. There's not a single minute without Kobe that wouldn't be better-suited for Meeks on the court over Goudelock. Hence the problem. This could've been avoided if Chris Grant had told the Lakers he wasn't taking Walton's contract without Goudelock instead of Kapono -- it wouldn't have really harmed the Lakers' rotation at all, and as a primary backup in Cleveland with a great point guard, I get the sense Goudelock could've fit a lot better and gotten quite a few more minutes. Not to mention he'd sport the most fundamentally sound three-point shot that Kyrie Irving had ever played with, other than... well... Kyrie Irving's. Unfortunately, it didn't turn out that way, and Glock fans are going to be forced to sit through a -- frankly -- excruciating season as they wait for the Lakers to either trade him away or waive him for a roster spot. Because on this team, I'd be shocked if Goudelock played more than 2-5 minutes every other night. Rough times. Godspeed, Andrew.

• • •

_Follow Brian Scalabrine by stealing the show from Paul Pierce, one last time__._

I admit, I was a bit lost on ideas for this capsule. How does one distill down the complex mix of respect and mockery that make up the soft-serve swirl of Brian Scalabrine's relationship with his fans? Luckily, in a relatively unrelated conversation last night with my good friend Dave Murphy, the inimitable Lauri brought to my attention a rather amazing little piece that made clear the way forward. It was sufficiently absurd to get my attention -- it's essentially an ode to the Totino's Party Pizza, a 99 cent mockery of the concept of pizza available in frozen food aisles everywhere. For those who aren't familiar with the "party pizza", don't let the advertisement fool you. It's hardly a party at all, at least in the traditional sense. It's a personal-sized pizza with a relatively thin crust, less-than-real cheese, and a mysterious red sauce that may or may not contain more tomatoes than salt. If you were to actually try and serve this pizza at a party, I'm pretty sure the first question would be one of the other partygoers wondering how exactly they're supposed to cut a 10 inch pizza to feed more than a single person. It isn't really party food, unless you somehow have an oven big enough to make one of these things for every single guest at your party. (On second thought, that would be a hilarious party. Someone do that.)

As for Scalabrine? His career-high PER was achieved last year, where Scalabrine put up a still-below-average PER of 13 in just 122 minutes over the entire season. Beyond that, Scalabrine's only had a single other year in double digits. Which is pretty abominable -- a PER above 15 is above average, but a PER below 10 is gutter-level. Very tough. If you examine the stats (or, alternatively, watch any game film whatsoever of Scalabrine's game) you'll start to see why. He's simply not an NBA player -- there's this sense watching him that he stumbled into a draft room drunk as a skunk and won a game of poker with a team's front office, forcing them to sign him to pay off their poker debt. People would argue that he was better when he was younger, but I don't really buy that -- he had a few decent performances when he was younger, like this 29-10 explosion against a permissive Golden State defense. But his game was still fundamentally flawed. He was never all that far removed from where he is now, a plodding and unathletic white tweener with a talent for self-promotion that's as bountiful as his basketball abilities are minimal. You never really looked at Brian Scalabrine and thought "wow, this is a guy who I'd trust to be a starter on a contending team." You never really looked at him and got the idea he'd even be a serviceable bench player -- you got the image of a guy that, if he wanted to be good, would have to be playing big minutes next to one of the greatest point guards of his generation (Jason Kidd, in his early career) or be playing insane minutes for a team that's so bad they're feeding him the ball like he's Kobe.

The real key with the pizza -- and the reason something like that deserves an ode at all -- is that there's a weird mental grip that the Tontino's Party Pizza has on the minds of those who ate it. When I eat it, I tend to think not of the taste. I think of how delightfully inexpensive the pizzas are, and all those times I had it as a kid. I'm not at a place in life where I really need to rely on 99 cent pizzas, but on the rare occasion I get a chance to eat one, I generally reflect on the days of my youth. Those days where I'd want something to eat but didn't know how to cook, so I'd fire up the oven and put a Totino's pizza in. Those days where I began to expect that all pizza would have a terrible crust like the one out of every freezer, and became faintly disappointed when they didn't. When you eat something often enough, it moves the focus of your taste buds away from "food that's tasty" and towards "food that resembles." Some call it building up your palette, but it's easy to forget that you can build a palette in the opposite direction as well. You can eat bad food often enough to make your mind think bad food's good and good food's bad. That whole concept of a flexible palette is useful for understanding why Brian Scalabrine inspires such hilariously fierce loyalty among his fans. He's the Totino's Party Pizza of the NBA. When you distill him to the core, that's exactly what he is.

Sure, you can focus on the hilarious negatives. The crust tastes exactly like the corrugated cardboard it's packaged in. The cheese is explicitly stated to be "less than 100% real." The sauce would make any other pizza curl up and die. But you know what? It's still actually really tasty. Call it nostalgia, call it my thriftiness, call it a perfect blend of every awful individual component into more than the sum of its parts. Whatever you want to call it, I'm game. But the Totino's Party Pizza was an absolutely essential part of my youth. In the same way, Brian Scalabrine is an essential part of the NBA to quite a lot of people. He's got a bunch of ridiculous component parts -- the incomprehensibly silly shots, the reporter-insulting (but also hilarious) postgame interviews, the utter inability to contribute as a true rotation player in the NBA. But he combines it all in a way that's a bit more than the sum of its parts. He's cheap, so fans don't really need to view his salary as detrimental to the team. And he has enough showmanship to make his garbage time minutes into a hilarious ball-dominating tour de force. No, Scalabrine isn't a good player -- it's an open question whether he's been a player at all over the last few years. No, the Totino's Party Pizza isn't a good pizza -- it's an open question whether it's been a pizza at all, ever. But both rise above their somewhat pathetic appearance on-paper and become important despite themselves. Hilariously so.

Long story short? I'm no big fan or anything, but yes, I'm going to miss Scalabrine. I hope he's a good press analyst.

• • •

_Follow _Ben Wallace's law career on "Boston Legal" reruns__.____

Man, I like Ben Wallace. There are some players that I am incomprehensibly fond of, and Wallace is one of them. It's true that I'd probably hate him to the core if the Pistons had beaten the Spurs for the 2005 title -- the degree to which Wallace was allowed to abuse Duncan and Mohammad without any calls whatsoever from the referees was objectionable, and aggravating. But the Spurs pulled it out, so I was free to continue appreciating Wallace from afar. I suppose the beginning of my fond feelings came the year before, when Wallace put the brakes on Shaquille O'Neal and dominated the 2004 finals. Always enjoy a defensively dominant big in the NBA, and there's no big that defines that better than an in-his-prime Big Ben. Aggressive enforcer with a knack for getting under everyone's skin. Great stuff. That's only on defense, mind you. On offense, Big Ben is one big bust. Can't shoot anything, despite the fact that he drills jumpers regularly in practice and works on his shot tirelessly. His free throw form in particular has been a joke around the league for years. If you set him up right, he can finish a basket or two. But wasting too many offensive possessions trying to set him up is obscenely unwise.

On the subject of unwise, many people point to his Bulls tenure as an example as to why Wallace isn't that great of a player, or isn't that important. I find this somewhat absurd. The Bulls underperformed expectations with Wallace because they wanted him to provide offense, for reasons that boggle my mind. That's doomed to fail, no matter how much money you give Wallace -- you don't put him on the floor because you want offense, you put him on the floor because you want to shut the other team down with a big man that's a nonfactor on the offensive end. He's one of the main people responsible for the Detroit Pistons' charge at greatness earlier in the 2000s -- and they were legitimately great, overall the 3rd best franchise in the aughts and #4 isn't supremely close. They made the eastern conference finals from 2003 to 2008, and other than 07 and 08, all of those were with Ben Wallace playing a crucial part. He was a huge part of that team. There's a bit of an irritating scab, for me, related to Wallace. It has to do with his short tenure with the Cleveland Cavaliers in 2009. Most people think Wallace was a failure with the Cavaliers. Hogwash. Wallace was actually really, really good to start the season with the 2009 Cavaliers -- the pock on his Cavalier legacy isn't anything under his control, really, but the unfortunate injury he suffered midway through the 2009 season that really messed the Cavaliers' season up. Part of the reason the 2009 Cavs had such a dominant regular season was that early in the year, with Ben Wallace healthy, it was essentially impossible to stop their defense.

No matter how big your center was or how crafty your point guard was, Wallace bolstered the interior defense to such a degree that it was hard to even get entry passes into the post. The Cavs lost this game, but if you ever get a chance, watch some footage of Wallace on Howard in this contest. I distinctly remember being impressed with the way Wallace kept Dwight Howard from getting to his spots and making life difficult on the inbounders that wanted to isolate him -- Dwight was the only Orlando player with a negative +/-, and the dominant Varejao/Wallace pairing is essentially the reason for it. It seemed like a good omen for the incoming playoffs, to me. Of course, then the injury happened. Wallace returned to action for the first game of the playoffs, and it was pretty obvious from game #1 that something was wrong. Wallace was the absolute worst player on that team in the 2009 playoffs, and I maintain that if Wallace had been anywhere close to healthy, the Cavs would've rolled in the ECF. No, when he was healthy he couldn't cover Howard one-on-one, but nobody really could -- he would've made it a lot harder for the Magic to simply dump it to Howard every other possession, and he would've kept the Magic's cutters and drivers like Courtney Lee from getting to the rim. Instead, he was a shell of his former self, still tentative from injury and unable to make those split-second movements that define his usual defense. So his defense was useless, which compounded with his offensive incompetence to produce a player that was legitimately harmful in every way (as opposed to a healthy Ben Wallace, who was a player that helped in a big way.) I really think the Cavs would've won that series. Seriously.

Especially looking at what he's done since then, on the Detroit Pistons. After a summer to recover from the injury, Big Ben was back to his same old ways -- defensively great, offensively shaky -- just in limited minutes and with less of a big picture impact on defense. He's no longer going to singlehandedly shut down a team, but he's still the Pistons' most valuable defensive player even at the age of 38, and I'd imagine they'll actually see some falloff when they finally move on from the Wallace era. He's been very consistent. Until Greg Monroe's rise late in 2011, it was hard to argue against the idea that Wallace wasn't their best player. My hope early on was that Wallace's mentorship would help Monroe blossom from the offensively dominant but defensively depleted big man he's been into a simply dominant one -- alas, Wallace hasn't helped much, and Monroe has maintained as one of the league's worst defensive big men (even if he has a strong center and he looks like he should be better). Fun fact: Ben Wallace wants to be a lawyer after he gets out of the NBA. He plans to use the money from his last few contracts to pay for law school and become a Detroit lawyer. This was a thing, and it's still a thing. Among the basketball fan contingent, I fully expect to see an increase in basketball-related crimes in the Detroit area once he passes the bar, hoping beyond hope that they'll be represented by Ben Wallace. Hell, I almost want to do that. Watch out, Juries.

• • •

At the end of each post, I'll be scribing riddles for the next group. Whoever gets the most right will get a shout out at the end of the next post. Tweet me your answers at @docrostov, or post them in the comments. TON of 3/3 guesses last week, as well as some totally clown guesses. Adam Koscielak was first with a three-spot, followed by Jkim (still undefeated!) and ... we'll assume these three are what "Ghost of HDS" meant, I suppose.

• "No, really guys. Cavs have made a big mistake. Shoulda taken Player #151." (Most people pretend they never thought this.)
• What is it with all these marginal Lakers guards? Player #152 is about as marginal as you get, and I'm going to need to watch a bunch of film to remember how he plays.
• Player #153 went from starting in the NBA Finals to playing a grand total of two minutes and six seconds in a five game series. Oh, how the "mighty" have fallen.

Lot of work this week, so capsules may have a few late days. Apologies.

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As our summer mainstay, Aaron's writing a 370-part series discussing almost every notable player who was -- as of last season -- getting minutes in the NBA. Intent is to get you talking, thinking, and appreciating the myriad of wonderful folks who play in our favorite sports league. Today we continue with Earl Clark, Nolan Smith, and Chris Wilcox.

• • •

_Follow Earl Clark on Twitter at __@3eaZy.___

I've got sort of a soft spot for Earl Clark. It's not that I love his skillset or his broader game. He's a rather limited player, especially offensively -- while Clark has shot 62% at the rim in his entire NBA career, he's always been unbelievably abysmal outside of that. Clark has shot (no typo) 28% over his career outside of 3 feet. If he's close enough to dunk it, he'll be okay -- get even slightly outside of that and the discomfort is palpable. He's not a very effective rebounder, and his passing is laughably poor (although he takes care of the ball reasonably well). Defensively, though? He's a scrapper of the tenth degree, and he's a relatively effective one too. His defensive statistics weren't excellent last season, but from a subjective standpoint I've always really loved watching him defend. While he lacks strength for the four, his smart contests, excellent reach, and ability to take a hit and keep his arms up make him an excellent defender against post-up fours. Against threes, he leverages his lateral mobility and general fluidity to stick with them, and it doesn't hurt that at 6'10" there's hardly a three in the league that can shoot over him.

In particular, beyond the scrappy defense, Clark is an excellent cover for the pick and roll. Examine the ridiculously excellent play here, outlined by Eddy Rivera at Magic Basketball. Very few players in the league have the sort of defensive talent that lets them show on the pick and roll, recover on the pick-man, and then proceed to weak-side block a 7'2" center without any notice or warning. It's something to behold, when he's on. The problem is, as I've outlined, Clark is awful enough on offense that he has legitimately no way to get playing time if he can't address his offensive deficiencies. His current strategy of getting through his offensive malaise essentially amounts to little more than "shootin' my way through it", which works about as well as Butch Cassidy trying to shoot his way through raging Bolivian forces. If Clark wants to have the opportunity to seriously impact a team off the bench, he has to do one of two things. He either has to work with a good shooting coach and develop some kind of long-ball move that he can shoot when he's absolutely and completely open, or he needs to eschew 3+ foot shots entirely in favor of better ball movement.

Still, with the Lakers, I think he'll be a pretty good fit. Clark exhibits in actuality what Artest does in theory -- he's a defensively vicious three-man whose offense leaves about as much to be desired as it could possibly leave. If the Lakers can wrangle a lineup along the lines of Duhon-Kobe-Clark-Jamison-Howard off the bench, they'll have an extremely solid defense coming off the bench and an offensive lineup that ensures Clark and Duhon don't imperil the team with poor shots. And if he can develop any kind of outside the basket move, playing him with Nash would be the best way in the world to get Clark to convert on that move well. I don't think he'll average 15-20 minutes with them, at least not until he develops that tertiary offensive skill. But Clark was a stealthily good pickup for the Lakers, and is going to help their defensive depth immensely going forward.

• • •

_Follow Nolan Smith on Twitter at__ @NdotSmitty._

Heh. I was a bit tricky in yesterday's riddle. When I said girls in my freshman dorm loved him, I didn't necessarily mean they loved him sexually, or wanted him like that at all (although some certainly did). I meant more that they found him adorable and loveable, in particular being fond of Nolan Smith's devotion to his then-freshman girlfriend and his jovial nature. I later found out that Smith never took most of his classes seriously (and in particular completely blew off an art class with my favorite artist), so that detracted from my personal liking for him, but he's still one of the more interesting players from Duke's title team. Consider his past -- Nolan Smith lost his father (former NBA player and coach Derek Smith) at the age of 8. The story of how his father died is heart-wrenching, and I highly recommend reading this ESPN OTL piece on Nolan Smith's depressing history. On a basketball training cruise, Nolan was aggravated with a game he played poorly and threw the basketball into the ocean. His father grabbed his wrist, took him aside, and told him he needed to work on his attitude if he ever wanted to make it in the game. Nolan nodded moodily, as children do, and his father left for a cruise-ending cocktail party.

That would be the last time they'd ever speak. Derek Smith suffered an out-of-nowhere heart attack at the party, and was dead almost instantly. How has Nolan coped with it? About as well as you can, I think. He's stayed in touch with most of his father's good friends. In fact, he ended up going to Duke not because he was particularly enamored with Coach Krzyzewski or the university itself, but because one of his father's best friends, Johnny Dawkins, was with the coaching staff. That meant he'd have a connection to his father without having to suffer the same awful experience his sister Sydney did, when she went to the same university her father did and had to suffer through the pictures of him everywhere and the constant drumbeat of "hey, your father was here" from professors and staff. Important. But Dawkins took a head coaching job at Stanford after Nolan's rookie year, and it became his responsibility to deal with his grief himself. He did a good job (and as someone who was at Duke for most of Nolan's career, I have to say the amount he matured in college from freshman year onward was absolutely incredible) and in time became the gleeful, loveable mainstay of a title-winning team.

Now, in the NBA, I'm not really sure what's going to happen to Nolan. He wasn't exactly a light's out player in college, and while his attitude was (and is) phenomenal, he's extremely undersized as a shooting guard. With a general lack of passing instincts, it's an open question whether he'll ever be able to play the point -- a question that leans to the negative. If he can't, his defense isn't nearly good enough to play solid defense on the wing, and he doesn't have Avery Bradley's core strength that let Bradley develop into the defensive talent he is. Nolan's main talent in college, his three point shot, has been somewhat lacking in the pros. He's not really used to shooting the NBA-distance three over defensive pressure, or players as athletic as the league-average guys in the NBA. His first season was something of a waste, and at 24 years old, he doesn't have a ton of time left to refine his game before the usual churn of NBA players spits him out and leaves him scrambling for playing time somewhere else. Personally, I hope he can find some kind of a role in the NBA, even if the role is pretty small. He's a nice guy, a good kid, and he's worked harder than most people know to get through the problems he's faced in his life. I don't know if he can do it, but I sure as heck hope he can.

• • •

_Follow _behind Chris Wilcox in a crowd in an effort to hide from me after I teach you math__.____

Ever wondered what I do as my day job? I'm a statistician. I do portfolio valuations modeling for a large bank. It's funny, a bit, because as anyone who follows this series closely might note, I'm quite the voracious reader. My second choice job was writing. Instead of focusing on my writing, though, I chose to focus my studies on the things I felt college could teach me that I couldn't simply master myself (advanced mathematics and analytics) rather than things I felt I could learn better hands-on, like writing and literary analysis. My day job leads me to have a relatively narrow set of on-the-job knowledge that I rarely get to bust out for this feature. But today, I can't resist. So here goes.

The Wilcoxon Signed-Rank test is among the most flexible of the statistical tests I use for my job. To contextualize that: have you ever computed a two-sample t-test for means? Most social scientists and engineers find themselves needing to use t-tests often. In case you haven't, I'll try to get at the goals. In essence, the goal of a t-test is to assess whether the means of two samples differ in a statistically significant way. If you have two populations that differ in only a single aspect, a t-test helps you assess whether that single differentiator drives a significant difference in two population means. So, for instance, let's say you have two populations, split by their favorite sport. If you can reasonably assume all other aspects of the population are equal, a t-test would be a quick method you can use to determine if the advocates of one sport and the advocates of another sport have a statistically significant difference in their household income, or their average age, or any other numeric variable you wish to track. There's a catch, though. In a t-test, you're assuming normality. You are assuming that your variable in both of the two comparative samples is distributed according to the principles of a standard normal distribution.

What makes the Wilcoxon Signed-Rank test so valuable to a statistical analyst is that you don't need to make that assumption. The only real necessity for a Wilcoxon is that the metric you're comparing means for demonstrates properties of cardinality. That is to say, the order of the numbers has to mean something. One must be more than zero. Two must trump one. Three above two. Et cetera, et cetera. Essentially, all it means is that you can't be using a numbering system that doesn't mean anything. You can't just be using ones and twos and threes as categories with no distinct or meaningful relationship relative to one another. The metric needs to make sense. If it does? You can compare hypothesis tests for just about anything -- even distributions that don't satisfy conditions of normality. In an NBA sense, this is useful because it allows us the levity to eradicate our natural all-normal assumptions regarding skill curve distributions and the general assignment of player importance. In a business sense, it's useful because you can more easily assess hypotheses regarding distributionally skewed variables like the decay of charge off rates and other such things. Lots of fun stuff, lots of interesting things, and lots of added value. The Wilcoxon is a gift.

"Alright. Cool story, bro. What does this have to do with Chris Wilcox?" Well... he invented it. ... okay, no, that's a bald-faced lie. He didn't. I don't believe Chris Wilcox has the slightest relation to Frank Wilcoxon, the one who actually invented the test. The only really useful part of the Wilcoxon/t-test framing, for this post, is to highlight the fact that what the Wilcoxon is to statistics is basically what Chris Wilcox isn't to the NBA. Where the Wilcoxon adds wonderful flexibility to hypothesis testing and two-sample testing, Chris Wilcox adds a 30-year-old center forward with massive defensive deficiencies and an incredibly inflexible game. He's a finisher, through-and-through -- he works relatively well sneaking to the rim in the pick and roll (virtually always finishing on a dunk) and he'll rebound relatively well in a pinch, but he has no real notable facets of his game beyond those two things. He's a subpar free throw shooter with no real post game, no well-defined defensive game (although he did better on that front in Boston next to Kevin Garnett and under Doc Rivers' schemes), and no real hope to get that much better -- after all, he's already 30, and the comprehensive history of big men who improved in their 30s is about as scant as the pamphlet on famous Jewish-American athletes from Airplane.

Still, he's a serviceable player -- just because there's a better alternative doesn't mean I don't use the t-test with some regularity to prove a point, and just because Wilcox is a relatively limited player doesn't mean there isn't a useful spot for him in the NBA. His last season was cut short with a scary heart problem, but going forward, assuming he can stay in shape (he came to training camp completely busted last season -- he needs avoid making that a habit) there's no real reason he can't ply his admittedly limited trade for 3 or 4 more years. Off the court, he seems like a nice enough fellow. He's trying to use his heart scare to spread the word on proper treatment and proper screening for heart problems. Which is extremely cool. I'm hoping he'll be a decent player for a few more years -- it's sad that he got his 2012 season snatched away from him, especially since he could've helped the Celtics numerous times throughout the run. But he'll be back, and so will the Celtics.

• • •

At the end of each post, I'll be scribing riddles for the next group. Whoever gets the most right will get a shout out at the end of the next post. Tweet me your answers at @docrostov, or post them in the comments. First-time guesser Jkim got a 3/3 on yesterday's riddles. Great call on Nolan Smith there. Smart fellow, this one.

• While he was a decent bench-chained three point bomber for the 2012 Lakers, with Jodie Meeks in the fold, you have to wonder if Player #148 sees the floor at all.
• He's essentially gone from the game now that he's taken that Boston job. But Player #149's memory will live on forever. (Not really.)
• One of my favorite old hands to the game, and one of the most successful undrafted players ever. May be a lawyer someday, too! "Better call [Player #150]."

Now I've just got one long Friday left and I can sleep for a weekend. Until we meet again, dear readers.

Continue reading

As our summer mainstay, Aaron's writing a 370-part series discussing almost every notable player who was -- as of last season -- getting minutes in the NBA. Intent is to get you talking, thinking, and appreciating the myriad of wonderful folks who play in our favorite sports league. Today we continue with Jared Dudley, Dwight Howard, and Ryan Anderson.

• • •

_Follow Jared Dudley on Twitter at __@JaredDudley619.___

Jared Dudley is a good example of a big overachiever in the NBA. It's a well-known fact that Dudley's athleticism is lacking -- at the beginning of last season, his teammates jokingly put the over/under of Dudley's in-game dunks during the 2012 season at two dunks. Not one, not three, not four, not five ... two dunks. As this interview notes, he definitely got to two. Hilariously so, in fact. As luck would have it, Dudley converted a total of three dunks in the 2012 season, crushing expectations and basically winning his own personal Larry O'Brien trophy. No, but really. If Steve Nash wins a ring this year, I think Jared Dudley should get a copy of it for his 2012 dunk achievements. I'm not being facetious. Get it done, Steve. Seriously, though -- his athleticism is insanely lacking, and the fact that he's managed to be an effective NBA player (on teams that have primarily been fast-paced, even!) is phenomenal, and a credit to Dudley's awesome work ethic. He was one of the most efficient offensive players in the entire NBA last year, despite his only having three dunks! That's pretty phenomenal, and it's a testament to his excellent work ethic.

One of the useful things about Dudley as a player that doesn't get mentioned much is how little he takes off the table. It's one of those things most people ignore when assessing shooting guards, but with a player like Dudley, it's essential to putting him in proper context that you take some time to think about that. He's customarily had one of the most efficient shot-selection charts in all of basketball, with around two-thirds of his shots coming at the rim or from three. That includes 75 corner threes, arguably the best shot in basketball -- he scored 87 points on those 75 shots. He's a strong finisher at the rim (without having an ability to dunk, as I said), and he's got a solid (if not exceptional) free throw stroke. His defense isn't best in the league or anything close, but it's not bad at all -- he's got limits athletically (though his losing weight under the tutelage of Steve Nash has really helped that), but he plays hard and smart on the defensive end, having a particular talent at going for steals without getting too far out of position. There's very little that Dudley does actively poorly -- eventually, if you do everything at an average or barely-sub-average level, you're going to be a solid NBA player. That's about where Dudley stands.

He's also a very nice guy. As I said in the riddle yesterday, a friend of mine once met him in Sky Harbor airport. Apparently he was really kind to her, and while my friend (not a huge Suns fan) couldn't name Dudley for the life of her, he gave her some courtside tickets to a random game simply because she recognized he was a Suns player. Supremely nice. Dudley is known by most fans for his generally positive working relationship with Bill Simmons, his love for media, and an effusive personality that makes almost anyone who watches his interviews like him a lot. See this interview for an example. Jared Dudley: fat kid at heart, who's just so happened to take residence in all of ours. No, he's not an amazing player -- his shot creation is relatively limited and he really does need to be set up in his key spots to be valuable. And while he's good at smart contests, at some point his lack of raw athletic talent comes back to bite him. But he hustles, he's efficient, and he works as hard as anyone else in the game. There isn't all that much to dislike in the game or demeanor of Jared Dudley. Very solid.

• • •

_Follow Dwight Howard on Twitter at__ @DwightHoward._

Oh, lord. Today's Player Capsule (Plus) features a player I was hoping I wouldn't have to write about for a while. Not after the ridiculous season he's had, where he sunk to new depths of distasteful disregard for his fans and franchise. Did Dwight owe the Magic anything? Perhaps not, but he certainly didn't need to do the things he did. He didn't need to conduct himself the way he did, or make himself out to be the person he has. In today's feature, I examine Dwight from a more pop-culture based sphere than my usual sources for these extended capsules, going into an extensive documentation of Harvey Dent's heel turn in The Dark Knight and discussing how, exactly, Dwight's actions have disturbed me and made me question my entire feelings about his career to-date. Here's an excerpt.

Dwight Howard's transformation from a lovable happy-go-lucky superstar into a capricious jerk came virtually out of nowhere. There were a few indications that Dwight wasn't exactly as he appeared -- the multiple children-out-of-wedlock he refuses to accept are his, the stories of him exposing himself to a porn star while the porn star was on a date, the internal indications that Dwight wanted more power in the Magic organization. But did anyone really see anything like this coming? Who, one year ago, would've guessed that Dwight Howard would have effectively alienated every single Magic fan on the face of the earth and turned himself into enemy #1 in the NBA? Dwight Howard, that lovable scamp with the penchant for children's music and childish jokes? Really? A villain?

Well, yeah. He's re-contextualized his entire career in one particularly low year. I don't need to belabor the point -- we all were there, and we all know what he's done. He pushed out one of the best coaches in the league in a pressure-heavy attempt to force change, he rehabbed and partied in Los Angeles while his team fell meekly in the playoffs (couldn't have flown out to Orlando to at least attend a game?), he obliterated every vestige of bargaining power the Orlando Magic had, and in the end he was rewarded for all his transgressions with the opportunity of a lifetime. A fulfillment of every dream. He accomplished this all in an unbelievably callous, cruel, and dithering fashion. He lied or misrepresented the truth at every stage. He alienated teammates (including a locker room fight with a player who was -- not more than two years ago -- one of his best friends), crushed the hearts of Magic fans, and burned every bridge he could find. He utterly bailed on a basketball camp for disadvantaged children, for God's sake. Even LeBron never brought the children into it.

And where did this come from, exactly? Straight out of nowhere.

READ THE REST OF DWIGHT HOWARD'S CAPSULE AT HARDWOOD PAROXYSM.

• • •

_Follow _Ryan Anderson on Twitter at __@ryananderson33.____

I think most fans have a lot of misconceptions about his game. He's seen (as most tall white shooters are) as a gigantic sieve on defense with no capabilities on that end, completely lacking even the most cursory of defensive talents. Might as well not be there. On offense, he's seen as nothing more than a spot-up shooter, with no real moves or shot-creation of his own. When the Magic let him go, and offered him up for the Hornets to sign him at a relatively minuscule deal, most people shrugged and figured it was fine. After all, Anderson wasn't the future, so it's not that big of a deal, right? No defense, minor offense, et cetera. Or so they say. There are a few problems with this. Ryan Anderson wasn't just "decent" at the things he was good at. He was ridiculously incredible at them. Anderson made more three pointers than any other player in the league last season. He took almost 7 per game, and somehow still managed to shoot a hair under 40% on them. Insane efficiency combined with insane volume. Absolutely ridiculous.

On defense, I'm not going to pretend he's good -- he isn't. He's slow-footed, and he doesn't yet have a great sense of when to commit and when to help. It's a bit of a problem, from the power forward position, because it relies on the center to really shut things down defensively. (Just a note, though -- if Monty can successfully put him at the wing, that problem will cease to be quite as harmful. One poor wing defender is way less harmful to a team's overall defensive structure than a power forward with defensive troubles. ) He's not horribly ineffective -- he can block reasonably well, and he pesters the post decently as long as you aren't putting him against someone with serious inches and weight on him. The big thing, though? His rebounding is incredible. On both ends of the floor. Offensively, due to his primarily operating beyond the arc, you'd expect his game to be lacking -- it isn't, and he posted one of the highest offensive rebound rates in the game last season (which led to lots of easy layups for Anderson -- something he can convert with relative ease because he's actually very good at layups). His defensive rebounding is slightly below expectations, but that's somewhat to be expected. He played next to Dwight Howard, after all, and given his lacking athleticism he was prone to tipping out defensive rebounds to ensure a Magic player corralled them. But his rebounding was very solid, all things considered.

Hell, Anderson had a PER above 21 -- that's top 30 in the league! He's ridiculous. I'm all for looking deeper into the statistics. That PER doesn't mean he's one of the 30 best players in the league, no. But at some point you need to call a spade a spade. Ryan Anderson is a downright excellent rebounding talent, one of the better three point shooters in the game, and quietly excellent on the offensive glass. He isn't simply some Jodie Meeks style spot-up three point shooter. Tom Haberstroh once wrote a controversial article calling out the similarities between Anderson's game and Dirk Nowitzki (then the reigning Finals MVP). You know what? He had a lot of good points. Anderson's defense is problematic, and he's not going to be a player like Dirk. But combining his efficiency, quiet rebounding talent, and general skillset you have a player with a heck of a lot of talent that most people are completely asleep on. His current contract -- $8 million a year -- is patently reasonable for a player that's proved to have the skills he's had, and while his playoff runs have (up to now) been incomprehensibly poor given his talent, the sample size is so small it's hard to build a compelling case that the runs describe his game better than his excellent regular season performance.

I'm very excited to see how Monty leverages Anderson's talent in New Orleans -- they're essentially one solid point guard away from having the upside of a top-4 seed. And, to be totally honest with you, I'm very disappointed in the Orlando front office for losing faith in the wonderful young player they've developed. An Anderson-Afflalo core could've been the first step forward towards the next contending Magic team. And if the price is as low as $8 million a year, why balk? I just don't get it. Perhaps that's just me, though. I like Anderson, even though his defense concerns me -- if he can swing to playing as a large wing, a la Danny Granger, I think he has the upside potential of a 3 to 4 time all-star. A Rashard Lewis type. And people like to forget this, because of his current state, but Rashard Lewis could play. Anderson can too, even though seemingly nobody believe in him. So, at least from one scribe, here's hoping he proves the doubters silly at the hive next season.

• • •

At the end of each post, I'll be scribing riddles for the next group. Whoever gets the most right will get a shout out at the end of the next post. Tweet me your answers at @docrostov, or post them in the comments.

• A defensive ace, Player #145's offense leaves about as much to be desired as it possibly could. Should make a decent Laker, tho.
• Player #146 went to college with me. Literally. I never had a class with him, but girls in my freshman dorm loved him.
• Gonna spend this whole capsule talking about the Wilcoxon signed-rank test and none of you LeFoolios can stop me. (I probably won't do this.)

This has been an incredibly busy week at work, somehow. Really can't wait for the weekend at this point. Keep on keepin' on.

Continue reading

As our summer mainstay, Aaron's writing a 370-part series discussing almost every notable player who was -- as of last season -- getting minutes in the NBA. Intent is to get you talking, thinking, and appreciating the myriad of wonderful folks who play in our favorite sports league. Today we continue with Chris Andersen, Nate Robinson, and Drew Gooden.

• • •

Follow Chris Andersen on Twitter by trying to read his tattoos.

The thing that immediately comes to mind for Chris Andersen is the myriad of reports and stories we all had to sit through during the 2009 NBA Western Conference Finals. You know the theme, if you were there. There were these ubiquitous 5-10 minute fluff piece about Andersen, discussing his fall from grace due to drugs and his subsequent rise out of the depths to be a productive player on a contending Nuggets team. It was a classic story of redemption and coming back from the doldrums. After getting caught up in the NBA's crazy lifestyle, Andersen came back to earth and cleaned up, so to speak. Got his affairs in order. Got everything back together. Theoretically.

In practice, though, I'm not really sure it's that simple. And it's not because of some unwarranted, unsupported "he's still using" tripe. I don't think he is. The problem runs deeper. While it made for a touching story on ESPN to highlight his road to recovery, I beg you to read this 2008 feature on Andersen's ruined relationship with his mother. It details Andersen's rise and fall in gruesome detail, discussing his upbringing (his mother, Linda Holubec, skinned snakes for belts and cooked the meat to feed their family, living in a house that was quite literally falling apart), Andersen's rise to the NBA lifestyle (and Holubec's attempts to help him get his finances in order and fix his life before the fall), the general lack of remorse from Andersen upon being caught with the drugs (a somewhat mature realization that absolutely nothing would've happened if he hadn't gotten caught), and -- this is the important part -- the fact that him and his mother were completely estranged at the time he re-entered the NBA.

The thing that bugs me about this story is that all it would take is one feature on Andersen and his mother for the uneasiness to cease. As it stands, wouldn't you think someone would've revisited this relationship and figured out if it was fixed if it actually was? I realize that you don't want to get caught up in old patterns, but nothing in that heart-wrenching story screams "old patterns" with his mom -- his mother tried to help him out of his rut, completely relocating her family to try and help him before the drug test destroyed him. According to that, as of over four years ago, Andersen and his mother had no real contact and no real relationship anymore. After all that happened in their lives, after all the promises that Andersen making it big would help his mother escape the poverty she worked hard to leave behind... nothing. Seeing a story about a former addict who is off the wagon is one thing. It's heartwarming fluff. Seeing a story about a former addict whose lifestyle has fractured his relationship with his mother isn't quite so fluffy, and begins to get more true-to-life.

Because the road back from addiction isn't simple either. It's fraught with constantly being thrown back into the habits and constant adversity. And it's cursed with the worst end-of-the-road hangover possible. That realization when you reach the end that nothing will ever really be the same. You'll never be the innocent person you were before you were consumed. You'll never fully repair those broken bonds and fractured friendships. You make a new life, because your old life is broken beyond repair. And the real moral of any true addiction story isn't one of return and recovery, but one of change and advancement. Of becoming a new person rather than a shallow imitation of the person you were before the addiction. I've never been addicted to anything of note, but I've known way too many people who have to really accept the super-happy recovery angle with a straight face. I like the sentiment of featuring Andersen as a recovered junkie, and as with seemingly everyone, I thought the story was heartwarming and fun. But dark sides are dark sides, and they shouldn't be erased for the sake of a good story.

One last thing. Andersen is getting old. His game is deteriorating badly, and he doesn't have his legs anymore. The insane block rates are becoming pedestrian. His lessening athleticism has impacted his rebounding. He's essentially a veteran's minimum player now, and as his body continues to fail him, he's only going to get worse. As his game declines, it seems the general ability of NBA fans to forgive transgressions has declined in kind. I refer of course to the not-so-ongoing investigation into Andersen's connection with sexual images of children. The problem is, he was never actually charged with anything, and the investigation seemed to unveil little more than a crazy fan setting Andersen up and harrassing him. But that didn't really stop the petty barrage of accusations and jokes about Andersen as a horrible monster. Which made me think a bit about our ability to forgive. Sometimes forgiveness is fungible. Oftentimes, it's only as legitimate as the context in which it's granted. Andersen was on a good team, and playing well. So we saw fit to celebrate his triumphs. Now he's a waste of money, and we can't resist piling on -- even if the reasons are far less than they used to be. Sort of odd, a bit sad, and all too human. Ways of the world and all that, I suppose.

• • •

_Follow Nate Robinson on Twitter at__ @nate_robinson._

Nate Robinson is the electric boogaloo of NBA players. In case you aren't familiar, the term "Electric Boogaloo" is a way-back reference to an absolutely ridiculous sequel from the 80s. Specifically "Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo." The movie was an absurd follow-up to the generally forgotten "Breakin'", a film about breakdancing that gave Ice T his film debut (and a role he retrospectively calls "completely wack.") The first part of the trilogy (yes, there's actually a Breakin' 3) is your everyday average 80s dancing film -- lots of parachute pants, stupid dance numbers, et cetera. The second part, though, is kind of special. A tour de force in tomfoolery. I can pretty confidently say there's no movie on the face of the earth that's more emblematic of ridiculous 80s movies than Electric Boogaloo. Seriously. It's been a long time since I've seen it, so I had to look it up, but the main characters are named Turbo and Ozone. The villain is called "Evil White Man." Every car in the movie seems to have hydraulics so they'll bob up and down during the dancing scenes. There's dance fighting. It's one of the most abject failures of a film I've seen in my life, and I still found myself amused and entertained by the sheer audacity of it.

The thing with Nate Robinson is that, although he's a pretty bad NBA player, he's got the same guilty pleasure gene that Breakin' 2 featured in full. Lots of weird stuff. There's the Shrek/Donkey stuff with Glen Davis. There's the seemingly random, unpredictable disregard for his teammates where Robinson will suddenly go full Iverson for a possession or two and try to put every team in the universe on his back. There's the dancing on the bench, something he became famous for to fans at the Oracle this past season. There's the fact that he's one of the first NBA player-bloggers ever. He's boisterous, confident, and often completely out of his gourd. And even for someone used to analyzing players solely on their merits, that's fun to watch. Sure, his style of play is pretty patchwork, and just as prone to ruining a team as it is conducive to helping it. Lots of ball-domination -- he tends to try and play 1-on-5 without the requisite skill to do it -- and a really high motor. Shot selection is iffy, not necessarily in the location of the shots he takes (35% career three point shooter) but in the blatant disregard for the open man and the "I'm going to score or get decked" mentality he brings to the table.

One underheralded thing about Robinson? His defense. He's athletic and strong, as anyone who's seen pictures of Robinson as a kid would know. (And yes, Nate -- you as an elementary school child were without question more muscular than most adult human beings are now. You're correct.) He uses that athleticism relatively well, and he's a bit of a pest. Just as he's prone to overexposure on the offensive end, he'll often get caught on defense with silly fouls and poorly timed steal attempts. But on the whole he's not a bad defender, and in a good scheme with a proper delineation of his goals, he can be a positive defensive player off the bench. All that said, I'm honestly completely at a loss to figure out what he'll be like in Chicago this season. I'm not even sure who's going to get the starter's minutes. Hinrich and Robinson are both incredibly flawed players, and Hinrich is old enough with enough prior mileage that he's probably going to be worse going forward than he is now. They're a fine selection of backup guards-off-the-bench, but watching one of them start for a quarter of the season is going to be rough for Chicago fans. I almost hope Robinson gets it, simply because (like Breakin' 2) there's some element of joy and absurdity to his game that gives him value beyond his relatively subpar play. With Hinrich, not quite sure you get that. Even if he's a slightly better player.

Besides. His middle name is Cornelius. How can you bench a guy named Cornelius?

• • •

_Follow _Drew Gooden on Twitter at __@DrewGooden.____

I watched a bunch of Synergy footage last night, trying to find evidence of his overwhelming defensive deficiencies. I came to some conclusions. Drew Gooden is a bad defender, in a vacuum, and that's clear when you watch the tape. But for some weird reason, he always seems to find himself on patently solid defensive teams -- Gooden was a pretty important player on the 2007 Cavs team that made the finals, putting in decent-if-not-remarkable defense under Brown's defensive schemes. Now, granted -- Mike Brown has made a career out of being a magician. He creates defensive schemes that make limited players look like defensive savants, essentially placing their limits in a hat, waving a handkerchief, and throwing some glitter as they "vanish" into his right sleeve. He did the same with Gooden. And, in fact, Gooden has been pretty lucky -- he made his way to the Spurs in 2009, where his flaws were worked over by Gregg Popovich. He was poor on the 2010 Clippers.

Then he came to the Bucks, where Scott Skiles pulled a Mike Brown and helped him hide his problems -- at least a bit. He has the opposite problem Rajon Rondo has -- while Rondo's offenses have never quite indicated the level of praise he's bestowed, defenses relying on Gooden have never quite indicated the level of disdain he's attached to. He's not good -- as any cursory look at the defensive tapes would show, there are problems. Generally undersized at the five (where he played the majority of the 2012 season), tons of mental mistakes, and customarily he has extremely poor defensive +/- numbers. With Gooden on the court last season, the Bucks allowed a defensive rating that would've rated out as one of the league's worst -- with him off the court, they had a defense that hovered in the top 10. Rough going. But the tape also shows a defender who doesn't kill teams as much as his reputation would indicate. At all, really. He makes mental mistakes, but he has patently solid lateral movement and a well-developed sense of when to challenge and when to lay back. He does a decent job aggravating opposing big men, and he works hard. He isn't the singular reason that a good defense is good, but he isn't a player that you can't have on a good defensive team. With a good coach and players that can shade his limits, he actually can be a defensive positive.

On offense, he's not all that great. Actually, I'd argue that he gives most of the positives you get from his few defensive skills and his tertiary talents back with the negatives of his offense. He gets high scoring numbers but does so on a shooting percentage that's simply abhorrent with usage that shouldn't be half as high as it is, and his rebounding leaves much to be desired. His ability to sink a long shot helps convince coaches that he helps teams offensively, and this is true -- especially when playing center, Gooden's tendency to fade outside the paint helps take the largest member of the opposing team out of the paint, which generally opens things up for the guards. But unfortunately for his teams, this usually results in semi-open midrange shots for Gooden, which he takes with abandon. Making, as previously enumerated, very few. I think Gooden's offense is mainly why I dislike him -- defensively he isn't fantastic but he's passable in a prescriptive, well-considered defense. His passing is fine. His ball control is shockingly good for a center. But when it comes to his scoring? Simply awful. He takes too many shots, produces shaky and inefficient totals, and gets overrated due to his offensive prominence. Most people would call Gooden an offense-first player. In a world where he actually was using his talents effectively, he'd be a Varejao-type, using his lateral quickness to impact the floor defensively and rarely touching the ball on offense, only chipping in when needed. Alas, it isn't so. And thus, I don't like Gooden at all, and really wish he'd put it all together. At the age of thirty, that's probably not going to happen, but I suppose it's a remote possibility.

• • •

At the end of each post, I'll be scribing riddles for the next group. Whoever gets the most right will get a shout out at the end of the next post. Tweet me your answers at @docrostov, or post them in the comments. Nick D was the first to get 3/3 yesterday. Good work.

• One of my friends once met Player #142 at Sky Harbor airport. He gave her free tickets. She says he's an incredibly nice guy.
• Oh, God. Do I honestly need to talk about this guy? Prepare for an angry tirade. Will be a Player Capsule (Plus).
• He may have derived some benefit from playing alongside Howard. But Player #144 isn't chopped liver, either.

Really busy today, hence the late capsules. Hopefully will be on time tomorrow, but we'll see. Adios.

Continue reading

As our summer mainstay, Aaron's writing a 370-part series discussing almost every notable player who was -- as of last season -- getting minutes in the NBA. Intent is to get you talking, thinking, and appreciating the myriad of wonderful folks who play in our favorite sports league. Today we continue with Kendrick Perkins, Brandon Bass, and Nikola Vucevic.

• • •

Follow Kendrick Perkins. In real life. Wait, don't do that, that's stalking.

I understand the compulsion. I really do. The Magic were bad against the Celtics for a few years, primarily because the Celtics featured an incredibly good defensive attack. Ergo, it's simple to say "hey, Dwight Howard was stopped by Kendrick Perkins." It doesn't hurt that, for a game or two, Howard got into foul trouble due to aggression by the Boston wings and had his minutes curtailed, depressing his in-game totals. It doesn't hurt that, by the eye test, Perkins' contests were effective and every Howard basket seemed harder than it usually was. And it certainly doesn't hurt that the Celtics are a jawing bunch, on defense, that annoys players like Howard by getting under his skin and making him visibly frustrated. There's a real desire to look at Howard and go "alack, poor Kendrick, he guards him well!" It's the same with point guards -- when Howard or Bogut or Bynum gets their hands dirty and shuts down the paint, turning Tony Parker's forays into a journey replete with danger, it's generally reported as the point guard getting the better of Parker, or of some nebulous concept of a team's "perimeter stopper" doing the job. This isn't always the case, though -- defensive assignments are incredibly fluid, and generally, the last line of defense ends up doing a large margin of the work on the point guards.

The same isn't exactly true of big men matchups, like Perkins on Howard, because as the last line of defense they end up being (predictably) the last line of defense against the bigs as well. But the same principle isn't totally absent, either. Perkins certainly doesn't guard every Dwight Howard possession, as there are numerous possessions Howard slips his way out of Perkins' buttery grasp to make an easy seemingly-unguarded two. Or, against the Celtics, possessions where the Magic slipped Howard from Perkins to Garnett in order to take advantage of -- ... Hey, wait a second! That virtually never happened. It's almost as though the Magic didn't like the Garnett-on-Howard matchup, realizing that the 7'0" Garnett lords over the 6'9" Howard and is one of the greatest defensive players of his generation. So, wait. You're telling me that the Magic probably chose to put Howard on Perkins, thus increasing the amount of time Perkins would see minutes on Dwight. Which then ensured that if the Celtics' superior defense quashed the Magic's offense -- whether they quashed Dwight or not -- Perkins would (essentially accidentally) be seen by the mass public as having spent the most time on Dwight and be "responsible" for any failures? Well! That explains a lot!

Alright. Look. I'm being unreasonably facetious, I know. The fact is, though, the "Dwight stopper" trope has reached levels of nested absurdity too ridiculous to handle with anything other than dripping contempt. Kendrick Perkins doesn't singlehandedly "stop" Dwight any more than Jameer Nelson "stops" Tony Parker, or Derek Fisher "stops" any point guard the Lakers have ever faced. Perkins is a decent man-to-man defender -- he's an old school player, one that scraps and grabs jerseys and throws bruising elbows. He's kind of a major jerk, on the court. But he doesn't stop Dwight. He isn't even all that effective a Dwight-stopper -- in games they've both played, Dwight sports a 52% field goal percentage. His career average is 57%, so that's a bit worse than usual, but 52% and eight free throws a game from your starting center are fine totals to roll with. And in the playoffs, that number rises to 55% -- just a hair under his career playoff average. Most of the moves Dwight uses work just as well on Kendrick Perkins as they do on any center. The referees tend to swallow their whistles when Perk is around, for whatever reason, so his main usage on the court is as a physical center that frustrates big men, grabs their jerseys, and plays dirty. He's good at that, for what it's worth, but his uselessness on the offensive end combined with the fact that his defense simply isn't as effective as a physical contesting center like Bogut depletes from his worth. Until last season, he at least provided some solid rebounding -- last season that fell off, and so too did any reason whatsoever for him to play over Nick Collison. Going forward, the OKC contract I was certain would be decent has turned into a relatively massive albatross for the Thunder. Lucky him, though -- his ill begotten "Dwight stopper" reputation is probably going to keep him around, at least until Dwight falls off.

• • •

_Follow Brandon Bass on Twitter by having Billy Bass read your timeline__._

Everybody has limits. It's an ever-present truth found wherever you look in the annals of film, literature, and reality. Part of what makes characters like Neo, Dr. Manhattan, and Star Trek's Q interesting is the implications behind their ridiculous abilities. They've conquered mortality, humanity, and the inherent limits of human nature. But beyond the omniscient, all-powerful character (a somewhat uninteresting trope if approached conventionally, when the writer starts to realize just how boring an all-powerful being would have to be in order to not destroy the world) just about every story ever told relies on the implicit assumptions of limits -- whether they be about people overcoming their limits (a happy story), people succumbing to them (a sad story), or people destroying the lives of those who surround them in an effort to refuse to accept the idea that they even have limits (Breaking Bad). Part of what makes life interesting is in the realization and acceptance of one's limits -- pushing where you can, striving to improve, attempting to keep them at bay until finally becoming at peace with your own flaws and becoming the best person you can possibly be.

This whole concept of limits applies readily to any aspect of life, basketball included. An NBA player can be defined by their skills in a vacuum, their on-court accomplishments, or the things that limit their game. Depending on how you feel about a player, you can assess them through any lens. If you like a player, what's to stop you from focusing entirely on his accomplishments, providing limits only to show how incredible the player is? If you hate him, what's to stop you from focusing entirely on his limits, or how he doesn't stack up to anyone else? Any fair analysis of a player is going to focus around two things -- how limited the player is, how they've strived to succeed within those limits, and how the player has emerged in ways that stretched their limits and brought them to a level people didn't think they'd meet. This segues nicely into today's 2nd player, Brandon Bass. Bass isn't some no-limit ubermensch, no. All things considered? Somewhat limited. He's no physical specimen, although he's got a tough side to him. He doesn't have the ability to make the three, really, and he has virtually no post-up game or a strong at-rim finishing ability. His rebounding instincts are poor, as well. His shot mechanics look strange -- he puts his guide hand on top of the ball in a strange way that almost never works, which would make one wonder if he really has much of a shooting talent at all. Lots of limits.

But, as I said, there are several ways to interpret limits. For Bass, I'd go positive. For what his limits are, Bass is really solid. I'd almost say he's perfect, actually. He's not an incredible defensive player, but he works relatively hard and doesn't make excuses. He didn't fit too well into the Celtics' help defensive schemes early last season, but recouped nicely by the end and was an integral part of the Celtics' outsized postseason push. And his individual defense has always been fine (even though his reputation never quite matched how decent he was on that end). While his at-rim and post-up game leaves a ton to be desired, it's impossible to be anything other than awed by Bass' incredible command of the 10-23 foot jump shot. Bass took a patently ridiculous 7 shots a night from that range last season, making 48% of them -- given that the league average is around 38% and only a single player was able to register above 50%+ from that range on more than two shots a night, it's legitimate to say that he's among the best midrange shooters in the game. While he can't make the three, when you're dragging opposing big men that far outside the paint, you're doing a good job. While his form isn't aesthetically pleasing, it's more effective than numerous "impeccable form" long range bombers, and it clearly works for him. And those free throws! Shooting 80% from the line as a big man is such an underrated talent.

Yes, his rebounding is poor -- it's anemic, in fact -- but it's mostly a function of how far he operates outside the paint on offense. His defensive rebounding rate is only slightly below average for a big man -- it's his work on the offensive glass that really drags his numbers down. Which, again, is a huge . Looking at Bass, I don't really see a single place he can improve that wouldn't involve fundamentally changing the player he is. This isn't to say he's a star -- at his best, he's probably the 4th or 5th best starter on a championship team, or the best guy off the bench. But if you reframe his career relative to his limitations, and look at just how well he does the things he's able to do? Then you start to see a story that's a lot more special than most people think. Bass is a hard worker, a good player, and -- what's more -- a player who's made the absolute most of his potential. A guy who's done what everyone used to criticize LeBron for not doing. Which is an impressive story, even if it requires one to reorient their views on success a little bit.

• • •

Follow Nikola Vucevic on ... wait, none of today's three have Twitter?__

On the margin, Vucevic was a pretty awful rookie last year. Readers know I don't like slamming players, and I don't really intend to slam him, but he simply wasn't very good. The real key for Vucevic going forward is the same exact thing that was Nikola Pekovic's key heading into 2012. He simply needs to do the things he does well better, and cut out the things he does poorly entirely. He needs to improve in virtually every facet of his game to be a suitable NBA center. His shot selection leaves quite a lot to be desired -- he needs to be set up at the rim more, and he needs to stop posting up with stepbacks until he's actually any good at it. He needs to stop taking three of every six shots from beyond 10 feet -- he can't shoot from that range very well whatsoever. He needs to tighten up his defensive rotations, and do a better job bodying up on defense. He needs to fix his free throw form -- a 70% shooter from the stripe in college, 52% in the big leagues is absolutely not gonna cut it. His athletic limitations aren't great, especially when defending the pick and roll. He got a bit better as the season went along from that early-season problem, but not a heck of a lot. Put simply, he needs to get better. He needs to completely change how he's approaching the NBA game, much like Pekovic did between his shaky first year and his lights-out second year. Go on a vision quest, work with Hakeem, something.

Off the court, Vucevic hails from the Montenegrin region of Europe, which I found interesting and notable mostly because I took the time to watch "Once Brothers" this weekend. That's the ESPN 30 for 30 documentary on the broken friendship between Drazen Petrovic and Vlade Divac. Amazing documentary, and I'll admit, I teared up a bit at the end. Searching for any Vucevic-to-Petrovic connection brought up nothing of note, other than this May interview where Vucevic admits that he never really saw Petrovic play and grew up idolizing Michael Jordan (as did everyone) and Vlade Divac. The idea that Vucevic idolized Divac made me smile, a bit -- among the core themes of Once Brothers is the idea that Vlade Divac was demonized and pilloried in Croatia (and most places outside his hometown) for a moment's transgression and a mark of disrespect towards the Croatian flag. Well, it's not really an "idea." It's a fact. But the idea that Vucevic doesn't hold that against him, and in fact idolized him from a purely basketball perspective tugged on the heartstrings a bit. It's a nice thing to read. Also included in the highly recommended interview: Vucevic saying that he watched "He Got Game" to help him learn English, the statement that Serbia is "basically California", and notes that knowing French helped him learn English. Pretty cool. Seems like a decent dude, and I personally hope he can pull his own Pekovic and recoup his game in Orlando.

• • •

At the end of each post, I'll be scribing riddles for the next group. Whoever gets the most right will get a shout out at the end of the next post. Tweet me your answers at @docrostov, or post them in the comments. I'm getting soft, I think. Just about everyone got high scores on yesterday's group, with @JoshsPseudonym being the first to get a 3/3. Good work.

• Could've starred in Hitchcock's "The Birds", if only he'd been alive. Maybe a bit too colorful, though.
• Seeing Player #140 play for the Bulls is going to be really, really strange next season.
• Given the sheer amount of time Player #141 has been in the league, and his insane number of teams, I was shocked to find he was only 30. Crazy.

Another day, another dollar. If only I made dollars for these. Adios, amigos.

Continue reading

As our summer mainstay, Aaron's writing a 370-part series discussing almost every notable player who was -- as of last season -- getting minutes in the NBA. Intent is to get you talking, thinking, and appreciating the myriad of wonderful folks who play in our favorite sports league. Today we continue with Jose Juan Barea, Kyle Lowry, and Christian Eyenga.

• • •

Follow J.J. Barea on Twitter at @jjbareapr.

Explaining J.J. Barea's strengths and weaknesses is a bit odd, so let's lead in with some interesting trivia -- despite never going to a major university or playing professionally overseas, Barea is one of the few NBA players to have his jersey retired while he was playing. Specifically, for the now-defunct "Fort Worth Flyers" from the D-League. Barea played only eight games with the Flyers, but he made an impact -- he had two consecutive forty point games, and averaged 27-5-8 on 60% true shooting in his eight contests. This sort of speaks to Barea's game, in a roundabout way. Barea has not once posted an above-league-average PER, and on an NBA level, he's a relatively awful shooter. Barea shoots under 30% between the rim and the three, which is simply atrocious for someone who takes almost 4 shots a game from that range in only 25 minutes a night. He's a solid three point shooter, though -- he's good at slipping screens for the open three. Tends to make a better percentage when he's open. Fancy that.

Regardless. Barea's insane D-League stats relative to his awful NBA stats indicate a player who suffers a single overwhelming flaw in the NBA that utterly sabotages his game. That flaw? He's simply too damn small. Sure, there are some aspects of his game that are helped by his size. He takes a few more charges than one might expect. He's a mite bit faster -- without his speed, he might not have that singular burst that takes him past the screener on a slip-screen play (exactly what made him so useful against the Lakers in 2011). As the D-League stats clearly demonstrate, Barea is an incredible player when he's playing against guys his own size, in an NBA-style offense. (He wasn't great in college, surprisingly.) He has one of the quirkiest skillsets in basketball -- who else makes their bread on being the best unassisted at-rim scorer in the league? And yes, I'm serious. This is an actual thing. Not one player in the league creates more of their own at-rim offense than Barea. Combine that with his passing (which is honestly pretty excellent -- he's about as good as backups come in terms of running an offense and generating assists) and you have a great foundational skillset. This speaks to his talent -- he has a lot of weird skills that, in a frame more attuned to the league, would make him a superstar. Unfortunately, his size ends that possibility.

Barea is also a good example of a player for whom situation means everything. Back in 2011, when he was slicing up the Lakers defense on a pinpoint-accurate Mavericks team, everything seemed great. He seemed like a solid free-agent acquisition for whatever team was lucky enough to snag him. Now, in 2012? "Lordy, why did the Wolves give Barea a contract like that?" The funny thing about both statements is how misguided and reactionary they are. Even in 2011, Barea was hardly a great player -- he gave the Mavs 20 or so shaky minutes a night, and at the age of 26, it was unlikely he'd be developing into a better pickup anytime soon. That single Lakers series was probably the greatest series of his career -- beyond that, Barea's only actively positive moments came when Spolestra chose to play Mike Bibby on him in the 2011 finals. Now? He does the exact same thing he did on Dallas (and I mean the EXACT same thing -- in 2011 his regular season PER was 14.8, in 2012 his regular season PER was 14.9) and suddenly he's an awful waste of salary? Come on. He was a shaky contract then and he's a shaky contract now, but he's hardly useless -- he creates offense at the rim as well as anyone, and although his defensive game is essentially focused on flops and charges, it's not wildly ineffective for a guard his size. No, he's not going to be a starter, but he'll be a high-quality backup point guard and a spark off the bench for a very good Timberwolves team. Exactly what he did on the Mavericks, too.

• • •

_Follow Kyle Lowry on Twitter at __@Klow7._

Kyle Lowry is going to improve the Toronto Raptors. A lot, I think. Lowry is a really, really good player. He's effectively the best point guard cover in the game -- no other point guard gets the defensive results that Lowry does, not even Rondo or Paul (both excellent defenders, but both lay off from time to time and take games off when they're feeling under the weather). Here's a comprehensive list of the point guards that have dropped 30 points with Lowry as their primary defender for > 15 minutes in the last three years.

• John Wall (38 points, 59% shooting) on January 16th, 2012.
• Russell Westbrook (33 points, 56% shooting) on November 6th, 2009. (Lowry only played 19 minutes.)
• Tony Parker (31 points, 65% shooting) on April 1st, 2011.
• Derrick Rose (30 points, 46% shooting) on December 4th, 2010.

Pretty ridiculous, right? Especially considering the fact that that's only happened on 4 nights out of 190. In terms of defending pure point guards, you can't really beat the skillset Lowry brings to the table. He's tough-nosed, aggressive, and doesn't bite on fakes. He reaches in without overcommitting and changes his balance as quick as any player I've ever seen, allowing him to go from pressuring the ball to taking a charge in basically no time flat. He switches his momentum while moving backwards or to the side beautifully -- simply put, the man has a ridiculously adept command of every single skill that makes a guard a good defender, and he uses them all to their greatest extent. Lowry is a fantastic point guard defender. His lacking height (he's 6'0") hurts him a bit when he's forced to cover larger guards -- he's not nearly as effective on players that are 4-5 inches taller than him, or more. So players like Rondo might be more valuable, defensively, for their ability to shade over to the larger wings without too much trouble. But Lowry's a game-changer for a team defensively, and he roundly mucks up any truly point guard fueled offense his crew faces. (Why do you think the Spurs have had so much trouble with the Rockets the last few years, anyway?)

As for his offense, that's a slightly different story on a personal-to-Lowry level but about the same level of outstanding when you look at the team-centric level. While Lowry is effective, he's not a star -- his offensive game has been much improved by his late-career discovery of the three point arc (roughly a 26% three point shooter pre-2011, has shot 37% each of the last two season), but he still has the problem of his long two and his midrange shot being completely and utterly broken. His shot chart in recent years has actually looked quite a bit like Barea's -- he takes 3 shots a game from the outside-the-rim two range despite shooting around 30% from there, which he couples with below-average (but rarely assisted) forays to the rim and a suddenly effective three point shot. His passing is solid, though -- he runs an offense without complaint and finds guys relatively effectively. He doesn't turn the ball over much, a plus for his game, and he helmed the 12th best offense in the league -- and given that he missed 25 games, it's worth keeping in mind that the Rockets' offense was better with him on the court, too. Lowry is an excellent, excellent player. Combine his offensive instincts and command of the floor with his defensive presence from the guard position, and you've got a player that'll fit in well in Toronto under Dwane Casey. If Valanciunas can give that Raptors team ANYTHING, the addition of Lowry (and perhaps more importantly, the subsequent domination Calderon will exact on every other team's bench unit) should be enough to propel the Raptors into playoff relevance.

While I have a great deal of respect for his game, I personally don't like Lowry a ton, if only because I felt people tended to overlook Lowry's somewhat absurd temper tantrum at a Las Vegas referee during the lockout. After a female ref called a few things Lowry didn't agree with, Lowry proceeded to throw a ball at her torso, tell her that if she met him outside he'd "kick her a**", then after she sat down threw a basketball full speed at her head. I remember hearing some of my friends call it absurd that the referee would charge him with misdemeanor battery, but I don't think it was altogether unwarranted -- according to eyewitness reports, Lowry wasn't just being vicious to her, he was being verbally threatening to every referee at the game. And while throwing a basketball at someone who wasn't expecting it doesn't seem like that harmful when you think about, say, your family throwing basketballs at each other as children... keep in mind that Kyle Lowry is a professional athlete in ridiculously good shape. If he wanted to throw a ball to hurt someone, it'd probably hurt someone. The case was dismissed in mid-February with Lowry sentenced to naught more than 100 hours of community service and goes through an impulse counseling program. I'm glad we get to keep watching his game, because he's a really good player -- but I really hope the impulse counseling is effective. Not just for him, but for the league itself as well -- players blowing their lid like that at referees for no reason whatsoever isn't exactly a good way to attract better referee talent to a league that's sorely needing it.

• • •

Follow Christian Eyenga on Twitter at __@christeyenga8.____

Christian Eyenga isn't very good at this whole "professional basketball" thing, yet. At any level -- Eyenga was drafted straight out of the Congo, and while he spent a year playing in the Euroleague with DKV Joventut in Spain, he didn't exactly light the nets aflame -- he scored a grand total of one basket (a two pointer) and a single free throw in his four-game stint. He came to the U.S. in 2011, playing a supporting role on "one of the worst teams in the history of the human race" and producing tepid numbers in minimal minutes. He was traded to Los Angeles in the Ramon Sessions trade (which actually actively annoyed me -- the Lakers really needed another asset out of the Cavs to make them part with Luke Walton's bloated contract? Really?) and was recently flipped with other flotsam in the blockbuster Dwight Howard deal. Going forward, Eyenga is one of their possible rotation players -- he's clearly behind Redick and Afflalo in the Magic's wing rotation, but if Redick suffers any sort of injury (he avoided it last season, but he's had his troubles before), chances are high for a few games of 15-20 minute stretches for goodly old Christian.

If I had to summarize his game, I'd say he's what happens when a player has too much athletic talent for his own good. Essentially, Eyenga spent years in the Congolese leagues and the Euroleague getting by solely on his athleticism and electric youthful energy. He dunked once, he dunked twice, he dunked some more. He shot the three, every now and again, and he shot long twos because he felt he needed to. But other than hustle rebounds and dunks, there aren't a whole hell of a lot of basketball fundamentals that Christian Eyenga knows how to do. And in a league like the NBA, with viciously talented athletes at every position? Being a pure athletic marvel doesn't get you very far, especially if you don't have any other notable skills. Now, don't get me wrong -- he's an insanely good dunk artist. Just look at this one against Pau Gasol, which ranks among my favorite dunks ever. His nickname -- Skyenga -- was never more evident than that one. I think he'd be a great dunk contest player, sort of like Jeremy Evans. It's not like Evans can actually do much on the basketball court -- he dunks, and that's about it. That's Eyenga, who could win a dunk contest with his eyes closed but couldn't really contribute to an NBA team with double-super LASIK surgery.

Personally, I was hoping the Cavs would keep him. Not because I think he's really got much potential, of course. He doesn't, and chances are high he's out of the league in 2 or 3 years even if he puts together a good stint in his "last chance" years with the Magic. But with his nickname being Skyenga (and his dog to match), I was really hoping the Cavs could develop him into a decent complementary piece, enough so that his "Skyenga" name spread to Kyrie Irving. You know. "Skyrie to Skyenga for the slam!" That kind of thing. It's stupid and gimmicky, but the Cavs are the same way sometimes, so whatever. In any event, he's a fun NBA follow on twitter. Sort of a @horse_ebooks for the NBA. He posts these absurd pictures of himself making angry faces at the camera with no captions, as though he's judging you for the life you never lived. He also asks fans to "keep [him] in your heart." And admonishes bad drivers, too, in phrasing that makes less sense the more you read it. Don't forget game-finding -- everyone knows twitter is where to go when you want to find out how to buy games for different platforms. Christian Eyenga's twitter feed is all at once incoherent, endearing, and obscenely silly. He's the perfect NBA follow for anyone who likes @horse_ebooks, trust me.

• • •

At the end of each post, I'll be scribing riddles for the next group. Whoever gets the most right will get a shout out at the end of the next post. Tweet me your answers at @docrostov, or post them in the comments. Last time, I apparently picked the easiest riddles ever, because the answers were posted before I'd even had the capsules up for more than a half hour. Quick on the draw, writer-without-a-cause Adam Koscielak (who, I might note, has no access to the final capsule ordering.)

• Theoretically, Player #136 is the best Dwight-stopper in the league. Realistically, he's wasted salary.
• This fish-named Celtic has a silky-smooth midrange jumper. Unfortunately for Boston, he doesn't have much else.
• Someday, the Dwight Howard trade will be known as the [Player #138] trade. (Actually, no. It won't. He's not incredible. He'll sop Dwight's minutes, though.)

For our 2nd anniversary, my girlfriend got me an XBox 360. I have never owned a console before. Suggestions, readers?

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As our summer mainstay, Aaron's writing a 370-part series discussing almost every notable player who was -- as of last season -- getting minutes in the NBA. Intent is to get you talking, thinking, and appreciating the myriad of wonderful folks who play in our favorite sports league. Today we continue with Rasual Butler, Udonis Haslem, Deron Williams.

• • •

Follow Rasual Butler on Twitter at @RasualButler45.

To be totally honest with you, I'm not really sure why Butler made the list. I don't really have much to say about him. I suppose the whole idea here -- write something about every player in the NBA -- wouldn't be such an absurd and ridiculous goal if there weren't some challenging ones. So here's me, trying to think about a player I haven't paid attention to in-game for seemingly years, with very little of interest on a personal level. I mean, don't get me wrong and assume the worst -- Butler is a strongly religious person, according to some NBA bios. Big bible man. He has a daughter, and does a heck of a lot more charity work than most NBA players. Very respectable, very neat, but perhaps a little hard to really say much about other than an expression of my utmost respect. So I grant that, but again, not really a subject to focus a whole capsule on. I guess there's that time he accidentally posted filthy pictures on twitter. That was kind of funny. I mean, it wasn't like "Airplane" funny or anything but it was kinda funny in the same way that awful live-action Avatar movie was funny.

Realistically, Butler has had one foot out the door for quite some time. He hasn't put up a field goal percentage above 40% since the Precambrian era (... or the 2010 season, whatever floats your boat), and despite the fact that most people know him as a sharpshooter, he hasn't put up an above-league-average three point percentage since the 2009 season. (Which was, I might add, the last time he played with Chris Paul.) Butler has a few nice skills -- he's a nice rebounder from the large-guard position, for his slim build, and over his career he's had very solid ball control. Now, granted, this is mostly because he absolutely never puts the ball on the floor. But per-possession, Butler's 2008 season was the greatest low-turnover-rate season of all time. Which is cool. You don't really want your hired gun sharpshooter turning the ball over all the time, that's just silly. That would be like hiring someone to mow your lawn and then finding that while he mowed the lawn, he also left dead bodies all over your lawn the next day. Sure, you may have done what I asked and mowed the lawn, but seriously, what is wrong with you don't leave dead bodies on my lawn I thought we had a deal. Exactly the same thing as the situation we're talking about. Definitely.

The situation of sharpshooters who end up dominating the ball and turning it over (or worse, not dominating the ball and still turning it over a lot) is a relatively common one, and it inevitably comes back to bite the teams that pick the wrong sharpshooters. For much of his career, Butler was one of the right sharpshooters. Now he's well over 33 years old, and he isn't. At all. He had a relatively prolific 10-year NBA career, and he made a startling $20,000,000 over the course of it. Butler isn't a very recognizable player, isn't a very good player (anymore), and doesn't really have a ton to talk about. As Basketball Reference clued me in on, his hall of fame percentage is a legit "0.000". Which actually got me thinking -- if you were an NBA player, and you saw on Basketball Reference that you had a hall of fame percentage of zero percent, wouldn't that feel kinda crummy? Poor guy. Well, I've got some news for you, Rasual Butler. If you're feeling bad, don't worry. There's a 100% chance that I'll feature you in a 2012 Player Capsule.

(There's also a 100% chance that I've run out of things to say about Rasual Butler. So... make that past-tense.)

• • •

_Follow Udonis Haslem on Twitter at __@ThisIsUD._

What a contract, right? At the time he signed his current deal, most people thought the Heat picked up Haslem at an incredibly solid value-deal, and a huge discount. While that may have been true at the time, in practice, Haslem's contract may come back to bite the Heat. Now, in fact, I'd argue their franchise loyalty to a Miami stalwart might've hurt them -- if they'd gone for a larger dollar figure in lesser years, then the mistake would be easily fixable. But they didn't. Now, Haslem is getting around $5 million dollars every year for the next three, despite putting up some positively dismal performances for the 2011 and 2012 Heat. Haslem is on the wrong side of 30, and unfortunately for the Heat, they'll be paying him until he's 35. In general, when a player has a down year after the age of 30 and things go poorly, you hope they'll recoup the next season. Haslem emphatically didn't in 2012, and arguably did considerably worse than he did in the 2011 season. He shot worse, he rebounded less, and he turned the ball over more. Not a good look.

The sad thing for Haslem now has to be looking at his performance and wishing he was simply a year or two younger -- back in the pre-Heatles days, Haslem was a relatively versatile, useful player. If Bosh was playing the five, the sweet-shooting longball Haslem of yore would've been a great fit for floor spacing purposes and defensive purposes. It would invert the usual orientation of an NBA offense (I.E., two shooters at the bigs to open the floor for two post-operating slashing wings as opposed to shooters at the wing to open up the floor for big guys in the post), but it'd be extremely effective with a classic Haslem season and a solid Bosh year. Now, with Haslem's big falloff, that's a pretty shaky proposition -- part of the reason people are saying the Heat need to go back to LeBron at the PF as a full-time option is because the just-as-planned Haslem/Bosh frontcourt pairing has been relatively dismal. Despite taking fewer shots than he used to take, Haslem's midrange shot went from around a 50% conversion rate to an awful 25% last season. The going rate on his long two pointers went from the high 40s to the high 30s. He stopped posting up very well (going from 40-50% to 30% from there) and his at-rim percentage went down. His scoring was down across the board, and while he rebounded well, his turnovers increased and he was rather clearly a step or two slow on defense last season.

Still. Haslem is a fan-favorite in Miami for a reason -- his hustle is unparalleled, and while he's only going to become more of an injury risk with age, I'm probably being a bit hard on the contract. He's only making 4-5 million a year, not anywhere close to the level of the awful contracts everyone put forth in their guesses. Haslem's contract is mostly a mistake in the idea that they could've had a player like Jared Jeffries, Nazr Mohammad, Kenyon Martin, Marcus Camby, or any of the other low-contract, low-year bigs they could've taken a flyer on when the Big Three came together. It's also a mistake in the idea that, had they done slightly more of a yearly total on a smaller year-length contract, they'd have (this year or next year) a valuable trade asset they could use as an outgoing expiring to snag a tertiary piece as a hanger-on in a larger trade (like the Cavs would've been in the proposed Nets-Cavs-Magic trade). Instead, they're sort of reduced to hoping Haslem gets better (unlikely, given his age) and hoping LeBron/Wade/Bosh don't fall off at all (likely for LeBron and Bosh, a bit of a high hope for Wade, but we'll see). Flexibility's the key for a team like the Heat, and Haslem's contract affords them less than they'd perhaps hope for.

• • •

Follow Deron Williams on Twitter at __@DeronWilliams.____

Deron Williams is one of the best point guards in the NBA. This is a fact. He's got elite scoring talent, putting up efficient isolation scoring numbers that put a lot of talented scorers to shame. Despite a surfeit of isolations and a ridiculous number of self-created shots, he's averaged a stunning 45-35-80 on his career (FG-3PT-FT), which is ridiculously good for a player that has the ball in his hands as much as Williams does. Among top tier point guards, he's right around the dead-on average in terms of turnovers, which is in and of itself relatively impressive -- he's taken on rapidly increasing usage without rapidly increasing his turnover rate in the last two seasons, which is a very valuable skill. His crossover is a work of art, and one of the smoothest moves in the game today -- it's a clear Iverson rip on style but he makes it work. He's among the best passers in the league, even in last year's dismal Nets situation with virtually nobody to pass to. He actively improves just about every offense he touches. His defensive potential is fantastic -- huge widebody at the point guard position, which gives him a bullish size advantage on just about any point guard that dares to enter the court. Combine that with his natural agility, and you have the formula for a brutally good defensive player.

Still. There's a large contingent of people -- including a lot of national writers -- who insist on naming Williams as the greatest point guard in the NBA, or insisting there's some legitimate argument to Williams in comparison to Chris Paul, or Derrick Rose. And silly things like that tend to beg a response. As a scorer, while Williams is good, he's hardly peerless, and I'd argue Rose, Parker, Irving, and Paul all have more potent and effective scoring abilities (even considering adjustments to their efficiency to match Deron's absurd usage). As a passing talent, Paul and Nash are clear betters to Deron, despite Deron's abilities, and you should probably throw Rondo in there as well. In terms of running a top-tier offense, well, Nash and Paul are clearly above Deron, and I'd argue that Parker's utmost importance in the Spurs' system puts him right there as well. Defensively is the only area where Deron is markedly overrated to the point of absurdity -- he has the defensive skillset to be very good, but the results simply aren't there. He gets a lot of dap for being a widebody and a former wrestler, and while that's true, he doesn't really throw his size into his man effectively on defense and he takes as many possessions off as Kobe does without getting blamed for it. His defensive plus/minus numbers have been bad for years, his Synergy numbers are awful, and by the eye test you get the same Kobe-perfected sense that (on defense only) Deron Williams was served a Thanksgiving dinner of talent and left everything untouched but the pumpkin pie. Delicious at times, but only if you ignore everything he's leaving on the table.

And I suppose that's the key. I don't love his game, but he's a very entertaining player to watch and easily one of the top-10 talents in the league. The problem I have with Williams isn't really in Williams himself, but in his insane fanbase. The idea that Williams is somehow superior to Paul just strikes me as such an extremely disrespectful address of Paul's talents, and consciously or not, it recontextualizes the way I watch Williams' game. Instead of being able to simply appreciate Williams for the brilliant player he is, I end up mentally doing exactly what the last paragraph did -- I watch and compare him to other point guards, and constantly tinker with my mental assessment of the players comparatively. Which, by the way, is about the fluffiest and least-substantial way to analyze anyone. Which frustrates me. The compulsion to constantly rank every single player we discuss and make that the be-all and end-all of analysis is aggravating, because rankings and relative value analysis can't hold a candle to individual evaluations and smart scouting. At least in my book. It's like I'm incoherently dumbing-down the way I watch Deron Williams just because I get so aggravated at trying to understand those who overrate him. It's annoying, especially when it infects the way I watch a guy who's among the best 20-or-so players in the game today.

Outlook for next season is mixed, I think. Most people are making a lot of assumptions when they say Williams is on the cusp of returning to his former glory. I'm not completely convinced. While I certainly understand the idea that last year's Nets team was abysmal, I don't think it's simply as easy as taking Williams' overall poor season and attributing it to some combination of disinterest and personal overexposure due to the awful cast around him. Deron Williams played pretty terribly during his last few months with the Jazz, due to a variety of lingering injuries. While this year's injuries (a badly strained right calf, a stomach virus, bruised ribs) have little to do with 2011's brood (a bad wrist injury), as a player ages injuries tend to linger farther and sap their core game. What's to say that those injuries won't -- as they have with, say, Chris Paul -- dog him a while longer, and lower his ceiling somewhat? While he's been an ironman up til now, his would hardly be the first career where a player with previously impeccable health finds his game sapped -- at least a little bit -- by a variety of happenstance injuries. The idea that Deron's relatively poor 2012 season can simply be erased off the face of the earth with the assumption that he'll play in a way he hasn't consistently played since 2010 is a bit assumption-heavy. I hope he does, because I think the league is a better place when Deron Williams is at his best. But there's an ever-present possibility that some level between Deron's last great season and Deron's quasi-all-star 2012 campaign is Williams' new regular talent level. That really isn't something that can simply be ignored, in any fair estimation of his career.

• • •

At the end of each post, I'll be scribing riddles for the next group. Whoever gets the most right will get a shout out at the end of the next post. Tweet me your answers at @docrostov, or post them in the comments. Yesterday, Utsav was our riddle winner, getting both Butler and Williams to the exclusion of Udonis Haslem. Today, the winner could be you!

• Andrew Bynum doesn't like Player #133. He doesn't like him at all.
• This summer addition should seriously change the complexion of last year's poor Raptors offense.
• Player #135 goes hard presently, has a dog that jumps high, and dunks like the wind. He's also barely an NBA player.

Pretty glad to get that week behind me, all things considered. Thanks for the birthday wishes yesterday. See you Monday.

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As our summer mainstay, Aaron's writing a 370-part series discussing almost every notable player who was -- as of last season -- getting minutes in the NBA. Intent is to get you talking, thinking, and appreciating the myriad of wonderful folks who play in our favorite sports league. Today we continue with Jan Vesely, Eric Bledsoe, and Carlos Boozer.

• • •

Follow Jan Vesely on Twitter by trying to be a detective.

The best aspect of Jan Vesely to this point in his career has been his ability to dunk. Seriously. Vesely was known for it before he came into the league for a reason -- it's really a thing you have to see for yourself. Vesely's aggravated assaults on the rim are something to behold. Just watch his highlight reel. When he came into the league, a commentator asked him if he considered himself the Czech Blake Griffin. In a lovable pull-out-the-carpet moment, Vesely scoffed and said that he didn't think that at all, and that instead, he thought of Griffin as the American Jan Vesely. What confidence, right? Really cool. There's a ferocity to his dunk artistry that begs analysis, and makes people apt to his game. Combine that with his hilarious interviews? If he even had a single other basketball talent, he'd be an amazingly popular star. A new-age Dirk Nowitzki, at least in quirkiness and fun. Alas, at this juncture of his career, he doesn't really have what you'd call "other skills."

A few not-so-notable facts about Vesely. This last season, he took 73 shots from outside 3 feet. He made -- I kid you not -- 11 of them. I'm a statistician, so let me assure you; going 15% on shots outside the direct vicinity of the rim is pretty bad. His handle is a mockery of the term "work in progress" -- Vesely managed to turn the ball over on 20% of the possessions he handled the ball, which becomes more horrifying the more you start to think about it. His defense was poor, in my mind. He was billed as a tough-nose defensive talent coming into the league but in practice this usually just turned into a constant drumbeat of silly fouls and blown coverages. He has a decent eye for pick-and-roll recoveries, but not a very good eye for when he needs to shade off the roll coverage and get back to his man. He has decent floor vision, but his passing ability is so defunct that even when he sees a good angle, the poor quality of his passes tended to ruin it. In a kind of amusing twist, Jan Vesely is essentially what Blake Griffin would look like if (as many commentators erroneously suggest) the actual only thing Griffin could do was dunk. He's a strangely packaged message from the basketball gods, in that sense -- if Blake Griffin was actually as talent-free as we tend to portray him, he'd look exactly like this.

This isn't to say that all of these things are designated facts going forward. Hardly -- from all accounts, Vesely is a hard-working guy who's putting a lot of effort into fixing these problems. I'd somewhat unintuitively say he should stop trying to fix his outside jumper, for now. I say that because, frankly, he has so far to go to even turn his outside-the-rim shot into a remotely passable offensive option that he's probably better off simply learning better ways to cut off a pass and get more free for rim-slashing and thunderous dunks. There's this irritating tendency of NBA players to spend a summer or two working on some aspect of the game where they're obscenely awful, improving the tiniest amount, then assuming they've got carte blanche to utilize their new "talent" at the expense of what actually makes them valuable. In Vesely's case, he's valuable because one can't guard his dunks effectively. So... use that. Leverage that talent. He shouldn't pretend that he's really going to have a passable outside shot in a few seasons -- that's a pipe dream right now, you know? So he'd be better suited to work the tertiary parts of his game -- his handle, his on-ball defense, his off-ball movement. That, I think, is the key to "fixing" Vesely's game. He's got the personality, the highlight reel, and the work ethic to be a very solid NBA talent. Here's hoping he puts in the hours and makes it work out.

• • •

_Follow Eric Bledsoe on Twitter at __@EBled24._

It's kind of funny the difference a playoff run makes. Had the Clippers not made the playoffs, this capsule would likely be about as pointed as an episode of Seinfeld. (The capsule about nothing, of course!) That's because Bledsoe's 2012 regular season was -- quite frankly -- awful. Some of his greatest hits: Bledsoe shot an incredibly poor 20% from three point range. Painful. He didn't make a single shot from 3-9 feet in the 2012 season. While he finished decently at the rim (to the tune of 59%), that wasn't a notably excellent total for a rim-finishing point guard -- the league average at-rim percentage among point guards is 59%, after all. That was compounded with a turnover percentage hovering around 25%, an assist percentage that barely cracked 20%, and a relatively poor job running the Clippers' offense. With Bledsoe on the bench, the Clippers had an offensive rating of 106. With Bledsoe on the court, they had an offensive rating of 100. Pretty huge gap, although the absurd brilliance of Chris Paul (and the lesser pieces Bledsoe played with) has a lot to do with that.

Luckily, though, the Clippers did have that playoff run and there are notable things to talk about because of it. Unless Bledsoe went on the most absurd hot streak in the history of hot streaks, his playoff run indicated that his regular season statistics aren't anywhere close to his ceiling as a player. In the 2012 playoffs, Bledsoe averaged 8-3-2 in only 17 minutes of play -- in a full 36 minute game, that's 17-6-4. Very solid. Even more solid were the percentages he used to get those numbers -- a blistering 58% from the field, featuring 43% from three. To contextualize his three point shooting -- Bledsoe made a total of six three point shots in the regular season, among his 464 regular season minutes. In 189 playoff minutes, he made three, and didn't overuse the shot. Bledsoe's increased personal offense didn't result in a decrease in his team's offense -- in fact, that aforementioned relationship between Bledsoe and the Clippers' offensive rating completely flipped in the playoffs, with the Clippers featuring an abominable offensive rating of 90 with Bledsoe on the bench and a blisteringly hot offensive rating of 115 with Bledsoe on the floor. Obviously, the sample size was smaller. But it was encouraging, if nothing else.

The key going forward is to figure out where the heck Bledsoe fits in the Clippers future plans, and perhaps moreso figuring out what the heck he actually is. A 60-70% free throw shooter in his career, chances are low that the "58-42" shooting playoff Bledsoe is the real deal. More likely, his peak would appear as something of a 45-30-75 type player, a scorer who lives at the rim with his slashing layups and free-throw drawing prowess, with a not-really-respectable three point shot that he only takes when absolutely necessary. His defense is fantastic, and much like Avery Bradley and Dwyane Wade, Bledsoe can impact a game defensively as strongly as the average guard impacts the game offensively. That's where most of his value comes. If he can bring his offensive game to "merely passable" levels, his defense should carry him into a Tony Allen-type role on a very, very good team. The problem is, as he's spent his entire career a point guard and lacks both size and spot-up prowess, it's difficult to see a situation where Paul/Bledsoe works as a primary rotation. This is especially glaring given that the Clippers have stocked up on a surfeit of awful two guards -- a washed up Billups, a washed up Jamal Crawford (for four years?!?), and "Nick Flynt Favorite" Willie Green. Paul/Bledsoe is clearly the Clippers' best option on paper, but in actuality there's almost no way it sees the court for serious minutes, especially not with Vinny Del Negro at the helm. So, while the prospect they put all their eggs in may very well have worked out, the Clippers have put themselves in a position where there's virtually no way he gets minutes or develops beyond his current state. Classic Clippers.

• • •

Follow Carlos Boozer on Twitter at __@MisterCbooz.____

Carlos Boozer poses a conundrum, to most analysts. When the Bulls signed Boozer, you were hard pressed to find a single statistically adept analyst that disliked the signing. John Hollinger thought it was excellent, I thought it was great, and most people looked at it as a high-upside signing of a big man that would thrive next to Rose. Oh, how wrong we were. There are a few things that could've indicated to us that Boozer's light's out 2010 season was a bit of a fluke -- his poor playoff run, and specifically his awful free throw shooting, in retrospect seems to be a bad omen for the first-year collapse of his outside shot in Chicago. While we always understood viscerally that Boozer's defense wasn't good, there was this unstated assumption that Tom Thibodeau would be able to fix him up and make him a useful defensive player -- he did his best, but two years into the Boozer experiment I think we can say with some confidence that even Thibodeau's genius can't overcome a player with as few defensive talents as Carlos Boozer. And finally, there's the conditioning/injury issue -- Boozer isn't the best conditioned big man around, and even though his injuries are often hilarious and ridiculous the end result is the same. A big man you can't count on to be there all season, and you can scarcely ever count on to be healthy for the playoffs. Especially when you combine that with Thibodeau minutes, though nobody knew about those before the Boozer signing.

The funniest thing about Boozer -- and the saddest, for Chicago fans -- is how poorly he fits into the equation in any estimation of the Bulls next to the Heat. Boozer is an incredibly poor defensive player if you're assessing the totality of his defense -- so many missed pick and roll coverages, so many lazy possessions where he simply doesn't figure out what his man is doing. But he has a few defensive skills, believe it or not. He's a decent cover for widebody large forwards (and some larger, less mobile centers) like Josh Smith, DeJuan Blair, or Boris Diaw, and he stays on them relatively well when he's locked in. But look at Boozer compared to the Heat, and you wonder where the hell he fits in on defense. He can't guard LeBron James -- that is legitimately insane, and one of the worst matchup ideas anyone has ever posited in their lives. He can't guard Bosh either, though, because Bosh is too quick and slippery. He gets caught on Spo's misdirection screens and ends up guarding Mario Chalmers or something every time he tries to guard Bosh. It never seems to work out well for him. On offense, Bosh is essentially tailored to stopping Boozer -- he can extend out as far as Boozer can without any real problem, and in the post his pesky challenges tend to ruin Boozer's obscenely slow setup motions and ruin Boozer's post play. As if to add insult to injury, Bosh also rebounds slightly above his career averages against Boozer. I know the Bulls had no real way of forseeing this before they signed Boozer, but the fact that Boozer has no realistic matchup against the Heat is a fact that adds insult to the injury of his immobile contract and bottoming production.

And I suppose it'd be unfair of me to keep this in my back pocket -- I really don't like watching Boozer. People complain endlessly that Anderson Varejao is the most "annoying" big man in the game, but I don't think people who say that have taken a close look at Carlos Boozer recently. Boozer is simply the whiniest man in the game today. He preens, screams, and screens with the abandon of a dirty player who virtually nobody realizes is dirty. Really. Lost in all the talk about Boozer's terrible defense is that he's terrible at defense despite being a somewhat dirty player, when he's locked in. He's got no qualms about ribbing his man, throwing an errant elbow when the refs aren't looking, or grabbing a jersey whenever he thinks he can get away with it. Somehow, despite often getting away with all of these things, he's still a horrible defender. It defies logic. Most bad defenders don't play dirty, they just play soft -- Boozer somehow manages to get away with dirty play and still be an absolutely abhorrent defender. Absolutely absurd. He flops a bit, too, but in the case of his flopping he usually does it so poorly that even the referees realize it. (Which is funny to watch, when it happens.) Off the court, I admit, I don't have much love for Boozer -- I don't outright hate him for abandoning Gordon Gund and the Cavaliers, but I can't say the chances are high that I'll ever really like him again. Unfortunately for Bulls fans, I have a sinking feeling that most of them feel the same way. Did anyone really see that coming, when they signed him in 2010?

• • •

At the end of each post, I'll be scribing riddles for the next group. Whoever gets the most right will get a shout out at the end of the next post. Tweet me your answers at @docrostov, or post them in the comments. And yes, virtually everyone got 3/3 on last week's capsules -- Mike, Chilai, Luke, and a bunch of others. Let's see if you can do it again, friends.

• I'm always confused as to why this 2012 Raptor is still in the league. They waived him midseason, tho -- Player #130 may be done.
• While they probably overpaid out of loyalty, it's hard to look at Player #131's contract and not conclude it to be a big mistake.
• If people gave Russell Westbrook as many excuses as they're now giving Player #132, Russ would probably have an MVP by now.

This week went by fast. The week's last capsule-dump comes tomorrow.

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