O vanity! you are the lever by means of which Archimedes wished to lift the earth!

-- Mikhail Lermontov

I have a series of divisional previews coming down the pipe later this week -- rather simple stuff, a nice three-point summary of each team meant to be a pre-free-agency preview of where each team stands after last season and the draft. But this is my blog, and I feel as though being the editor allots me the creative freedom to write my own odd vanity pieces. So, on that note, here are some freeform thoughts on Kawhi Leonard.

• • •

Before the draft, before the Pacers trade, and before the lottery in general I had two simple preferences in the draft. First was that Kyrie Irving would go to a team I liked. I went to Duke, I met him once, and I think he's going to project out as one of the 5 best point guards in the league. The fact that he went to the Cavs made me incredibly happy about my birth team, and made the abhorrent 2011 season all the more tolerable in retrospect. But Kyrie isn't the hero of this class for me -- he's a great point guard, a decent guy, and will probably be the best player drafted this year. But he's not quite my favorite, nor is he the impetus for this post. The player I was most interested in seeing, and the player I most wanted to land on a team that fits his talents? That's Kawhi Leonard. Not because he'll be the best player in the draft, though it's entirely possible he will be. And not because he's a sure thing, because he certainly isn't. But Kawhi is, if nothing else, the most interesting player in the 2011 draft.

It all starts with his game. Kawhi represents something of an intersection between Gerald Wallace and the fountain of youth, basketball-wise. His game brings me the electric rush I get watching an older and wiser Gerald, grounded in a younger, more durable frame. The leaping athleticism I love watching in Gerald's game is there, but in Kawhi's game it's completely unhinged from Gerald's creeping tendency to dial his pure athletic plays back a slight bit -- Gerald knows he's pushing 30, and he knows he needs to keep from killing himself just to make the super athletic move when he can do an efficient but not exactly as effective move that keeps him from injury. It isn't the raw and brute strength of a Blake Griffin athlete, but the fluid and intense strength of a thinner Usain Bolt type, or a pole vaulting demon. Kawhi Leonard's college game embodied a visceral excitement that's hard to explain if you weren't watching. Watching him play was like watching pickup games where the most athletically gifted player on the floor also happened to be the hardest worker on both ends of the court. That's Gerald Wallace at his best, and that's Kawhi Leonard in college.

And the defense, well -- Kawhi's wingspan is absolutely insane, in the best way. And his hands are huge. He's built for defense. He made great use of his talents in college, bringing the Wallace comparison full circle. He plays defense akin to a man on death row who has to fight for his right to live, or even just to have his last meal. Thirsty for deflections, plays his man tight, and has a great sense of how to read an opposing offense. His play on the defensive end reminds me of John Wall's fleeting brilliance on offense -- when he gets on a roll when he's covering his man, he's efficient, effective, exhaustive. You simply weren't going to find a college player on the planet who could consistently score on him when he was on. Not one. I don't know if he'll be able to play quite as effectively on defense as he did in college, at least initially -- the game is different in the NBA, and the players are faster, stronger, and smarter. There will be an adjustment. But just like his offense and general attitude electrifies all comers with athleticism in spades and grit to spare, his defense as he presented it in college is my jam. It's everything you love to see in a player. And with his athletic gifts, he should the ability to bring it to the next level. In some form or another.

And this brings us to my Spurs. You know. The "boring" team.

Never mind that Duncan on defense has always been one of the most beautiful things the league has to offer. The defensive structure of the Spurs as a whole, really, but Duncan especially: Tim's defense has always inhabited a brave world oscillating between the bounds of reactive and impressionistic fluidity on one end to a prescriptive and predictive rigidity on the other. Duncan's defense has always been equal parts shutting down what the offense gives him and preventing the offense from giving him anything he can't handle in the first place, through reputation and savvy alone. But that's just Duncan. Don't forget Bruce Bowen, the title-winning mainstay with the peculiar, exacting defensive identity of a brutish tax-man come to extract a dime. And then Manu, who sees the bounds of the dichotomy I posited for Duncan and laughs in its face as he takes his wild gambles and wrecks his singular havoc (the likes of which no minuscule white euro-ball player has made before). Or Pop himself, he who molds the ever-flowing stream of feckless roleplayers into system-strong cadets, sent off to boldly go where every single Spurs defense of the modern era has gone before. That's what the Spurs have been, for the last decade.

The Spurs defense is a thing of beauty, for anyone willing to really watch the defense. Immerse oneself in it. Great defense in its construction can be just as beautiful as Steve Nash with his adaptive offensive mastery, or George Gervin with his ice-cool demeanor atop his red-hot shot. The way a defense adapts to an offense will always be an incredible thing to watch. If one looks for it. But the Spurs aren't like the bad-boy Pistons or the knockdown Celtics. They aren't based on a certain segment of the court, or a certain type of defense. And they aren't based around a defensive "personality." The Spurs, if anything, are based somewhat around the Duncan-centric concept that you can completely separate your team from the personalities of the players. That a team explicitly attempting to operate without a visible identity can be just as effective operating in the absence of an identity than a team operating with one. That simply being a team that works hard and combines most efficiently the incomparable talents of a myriad of once-in-a-lifetime steals can dare to outmaneuver the most loaded media-obsessive teams that Los Angeles, Boston, and New York have to offer. Not an identity, not a personality, but simply working towards a goal. A goal that you'd like the entire league to think is inevitable -- "oh, gosh, not another Spurs championship." But a goal is not an identity -- it's a different beast entirely.

Enter Kawhi Leonard. The opposite of a preening star, Kawhi hasn't yet been one for theatrics. In timeouts, and off the court, Kawhi is far more Tim Duncan than anyone else, approaching the game with a quiet strength that any Spurs fan can respect. But it's his game that really could bring us back. His defense could, once it adapts, do much to make up for Duncan's declining grasp of the impressionistic. A lineup of Parker-Manu-Leonard-Duncan-Blair could very well turn defensive basketball on its head, in the same way the Heat define this generation's current definition of the optimal defensive team. If Kawhi's defensive chops are as formidable as they looked in college, of course. The young rook has the potential to jumpstart a movement with the end goal of taking the Spurs back away from the drifting tides of 2009's disappointment, 2010's flicker, and 2011's all-too-early denouement. Away from our "grandfatherly old Spurs" team of recent years and back to the culture we had in our title teams. You know, defined by Tim Duncan's humble roboticism and our utter lack of an identity.

But that's the key. Kawhi represents something new, for the Spurs -- but he's new only by calling out to the old. The first rookie with real star-tier potential since Manu Ginobili laced up. I strongly consider the post-2006 Gerald Wallace a star -- Kawhi's ceiling is just above that. He represents the first real attempt to move forward from the Duncan era, and the first step forward. But in picking up Kawhi, I'm not afraid of the change. I'm excited. Truly. Because of any team in the league, it's just like the Spurs to do it like this. It's just like Buford to pick up a player who brings the Spurs forward by taking the Spurs back. A player whose defensive identity fills in the cracks that Tim's gradually declining defensive game is losing. A player who, at his best, would herald a return to the baroque defensive stylings of the prime Duncan years.

I reiterate -- a player like Kawhi may not be the greatest player in his draft class, but he's the most interesting. The defense is without compare, and with a coach like Pop to mold it, the potential is through the roof. And his rebounding, his athleticism. There's so many questions, and so much to look forward to. I don't know if Kawhi Leonard will do all this by himself. He may be a bust -- perhaps his athleticism fails him, perhaps he's too thin, perhaps his advanced post game won't make up for his lacking shot. But perhaps my intuition is right, and the Spurs rebuild is about to begin on-the-fly. And the evolutionary Gerald Wallace could very well be just the player we needed to bypass the doldrums entirely.

The season starts on Christmas, folks. And I can barely wait.

Continuing our ongoing series with our own basketball-centric take on Joe Posnanski's brilliant trivial concept, we bring you today the second part of the series. While the first part covered players from the 60s and 70s, this part covers the majority of the Olympic Dream Team, that motley crew headlined by the most unlikely Olympic three point champion of all time (really, honest question: who led the Dream Team in 3-point percentage? Bet quite a lot you'll get the answer wrong -- check the end of this post for the big reveal) and other various stars of the mid 80s, born from 1956 to 1968. Get the popcorn -- we're in for a long haul, here.

1956

Best Player: Larry Bird

Other Nominees: Adrian Dantley, Maurice Cheeks, Bernard King

Vintage Grade: A

Comment: There's one odd and pathological exception in the later years, but Larry Bird came very close to never having a losing month in the regular season. In November 1988, Bird played his only six games of the season and the Celtics went 2-4. And that's it. That's Larry Bird's losing month en route to three championships and becoming the leader of one of the GOAT teams, the 1986 Celtics. Dantley scored a HOF worthy 23177 points on a career 54% shooting, King was similarly efficient and...volumetric, but had his career cut short by injury, and Mo Cheeks was a good defender point for the 83 Sixers. It's not a team, but it's a great class.

1957

Best Player: Kevin McHale

Other Nominees: Sidney Moncrief, Bill Laimbeer, Mark Eaton

Vintage Grade: B+

Comment: If you put these four players together on one lineup with a replacement-level PG, your team would simply be too hardnosed and they'd be kicked out of the league, but not before reinventing defense, caroms and grit. And, on occasion, getting lit up for 75 points by, like, Muggsy Bogues.

1958

Best Player: Paul Pressey

Other Nominees: None.

Vintage Grade: D

Comment: Apparently (Wikipedia; he's actually rather obscure) Pressey is the originator of the "point forward" position. Pressey did legitimately have a stretch of five years where he got between 6.6 and 7.8 apg and between 3.9-5.4 rpg, while scoring a decent 12-16 ppg. I mean, not bad, not a lot of turnovers, pretty efficient, lot of All-Defense teams... And Bucks fans from 1986 seemed to love him, seeing him as one of the difference-makers along with Moncrief in beating the Barkley Sixers. Still, Pressey's 3 All-Defense selections give him some of the only individual accolades in the NBA for this birth year. Lots of All-Rookie selections, a Wooden Award (Darrell Griffith aka Dr. Dunkenstein), etc. A lot of title contenders too, hence:

There was an influx of players that eventually become coaches: Kiki Vandeweghe, Rick Mahorn, Mike Woodson, Larry Drew, and Kurt Rambis. And...that's it. That's the influx. D.

1959

Best Player: Magic Johnson

Other Nominees: Mark Aguirre, Danny Ainge, Rolando Blackman, Larry Nance

Vintage Grade: A+

Comment: Pretty good year for sixth men, All-Defense, Wooden Award winners...and...uh, that guy that averaged a 19.5-7.7-12.3 in 190 playoff games with five rings, three MVPs and three Finals MVPs, and has the highest apg in the history of the game.

An enigma wrapped in a riddle.

1960

Best Player: Dominique Wilkins or Ralph Sampson

Other Nominees: Sleepy Floyd, Fat Lever

Vintage Grade: A-

Comment: While Sampson didn't really pan out in the NBA thanks to injuries, and Wilkins deserves his nickname "The Human Highlight Film" as a great, great offensive player, I have trouble throwing out the 3-time Naismith/AP and 2-time Wooden award winner like that considering he did have a Finals appearance and 4-5 quality years in the league. Anyway, Sleepy Floyd - despite a 12.8 ppg career average, hit up the '87 Lakers for 29 points in the fourth quarter (12 consecutive FGs) in the playoffs. Charles Barkley was a bit short of Floyd in a recent Eye on the Classics, and it felt for stretches like he was hitting his every shot. That's strange, but not quite as strange as Fat Lever, the single most enigmatic statistical figure in the history of the league.

1961

Best Player: Isiah Thomas or Dennis Rodman

Other Nominees: James Worthy, Byron Scott, Doc Rivers

Vintage Grade: A

Comment: Rodman or Isiah? It's a toss-up. I have to say it's really awesome what Isiah could do for a backcourt and a culture and what Dennis Rodman could do defensively and as a rebounding presence. I've seen the second-dynasty Bulls without Rodman (he was injured quite often and old, notice that Isiah and Dennis "peaked" about 8 years apart despite being born in the same year), and it's really amazing how perfectly the Bulls fit with Rodman's defensive style, a versatile big man enforcer to complement a versatile tweener to complement a versatile wing, all of whom could defend and rebound substantially above average for their positions. Really, could you have made the 1996 Bulls much better using real players, especially for the grind of the Van Gundy/Riley years? I don't think so.

Okay, Doc Rivers wasn't really a nominee, but he was a solid, work-a-day player, and I read his special (and rather short) book "Those Who Love the Game," written with a co-writer around 1995, just as Doc was nearing his end. It's a great book because it shows you how intelligent, outspoken, and visionary Doc was at a relatively young age. He says explicitly that his goal is to coach and then to GM, in the three stages of his basketball life. He posits that race plays a part in Bill Walton being in the HOF while his semi-mentor (and then-infant son's namesake) Austin Carr is excluded from the Hall. Doc also talks about an unfortunate incident with Mike Fratello, the hidden humor and wisdom of Moses Malone, and what Pat Riley is like as a role model and as a coach. Just a wonderful firsthand account from one of the best coaches in the business, before he became one. Highly recommended, especially if you're a Hawks, Knicks, or Celts fan.

1962

Best Player: John Stockton

Other Nominees: Patrick Ewing, Clyde Drexler

Vintage Grade: A+

Comment: We're getting into the prime Dream Team years now. Heavy, heavy for the vintage. Not much to say here, three two-way legends with a lot of Finals appearances between them and serious legacy questions to answer for. A few interesting quotes from SI on their late careers:

"John Stockton
NBA guards are like Hollywood actresses—their bankability as stars seems to expire when they hit 35. However, at 38, an age by which Oscar Robertson, Jerry West, Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan had all retired, Stocktonremains at the top of his game. Through Sunday he was second in the league in three-point shooting (50.7%) and in assists (9.3 per game). He needs more help on defense than he once did, but no other guard in league history has been so effective at such an advanced age."

Phil Taylor, Booms...and Busts, February 19, 2001

This is a fascinating comment to me, considering Steve Nash will be 38 on February 7, about two months away. Don't those sound like plausible Steve Nash numbers (actually looking at per-36 numbers, late-period Nash comes out at or better than eerily consistent late-period Stockton in almost every category)? Stock ended up playing 2+ years after this comment. How long will Nash last?

As for Ewing:

It helps their relationship that Camby doesn't demand shots, which Van Gundy must delicately distribute among Ewing,Houston and Latrell Sprewell. The Knicks are a collection of complex factions. Camby's boys are Sprewell, forward John Wallace and guard Rick Brunson. The clean-living Houston and point guard Charlie Ward have been nicknamed the Christian Coalition, while Ewing, the proud old warrior, stands alone, his friends having been traded, his skills eroding, his stature on the team diminished. He doesn't talk much these days, and team officials wonder how it will end.

"Pat's used to being the Guy in this city says Camby, who has taken some of Ewing's minutes. "But I can't worry too much about him. He's still going to come in and get his number called. Hey, I don't get any plays called for me. I get my baskets off hustle plays. The one thing I do feel bad about is the injuries Pat's had. The Achilles [tendon tear] has set him back two to three years. His wrist is still messed up. He's playing through a lot of pain."

Jackie MacMullan, "The Nba," February 7, 2000 (Steve Nash's 26th birthday!)

Rivers, whom Ewing reportedly doesn't speak with much anymore, gave Ewing his first "DNP-CD" (did not play-coach's decision) on the scoresheet last week after almost 1,200 games.

"[Retirement is] a decision he's going to have to come to," Rivers said. "I don't think any of us can help him. If he asks my opinion, I'll give it to him."

Shot back Ewing: "I'm still a player."

Chicago Tribute, "An old center refuses to fade away," April 8, 2002

Kind of self-explanatory. Sad after sad after sad.

1963

Best Player: Michael Jordan

Other Nominees: Karl Malone, Hakeem Olajuwon, Charles Barkley, Joe Dumars, Chris Mullin

Vintage Grade: A++++ (no, wait, that last plus is just Drambuie!)

Comment: Alright, so this year is not a typo. The only way to understand this is to just...tally up what we're looking at for this birth year. Between the six they achieved:

• 62 All-Star selections
• 6 ASG MVPs
• 9 regular season MVPs
• 9 Finals MVPs
• 35 Players of the Month
• 27 All-Defense selections
• 33 All-NBA 1sts
• 14 All-NBA 2nds
• 8 All-NBA 3rds
• 3 DPOYs
• 10 Rings
• 16 Finals appearances

Yeah. None of those rings or Finals appearances were together, either. I'm not counting Mullin's 12 total Finals minutes for the 2000 Pacers.

But none of this compares to 1964. No, really...

1964

Best Player: None

Other Nominees: Aging Arvydas Sabonis, tragically short-lived Drazen Petrovic, injured Ron Harper, uh...Mark Price, Chuck Person, Otis Smith, Scott Skiles, Dell Curry, John Salley, Nate McMillan

Vintage Grade: C-, considering the players listed are all at least D-cent, but for the modern era? After that whole 1963 thing? Yeah.

Comment: N/A, though it is kind of weird how many coaches we get in some of these atrocious down-years. If we're using all facets of basketball achievement, instead of just NBA accomplishments, this class gets much better with Sabonis and Petrovic and all the coaches, and for 1963, the non-NBA achievements would include Nike, the Dream Team, Inside the NBA, and...the Bobcats ownership group?

While neither could win a title alone, they were both very good at NBA 2k12!

1965

Best Player: Scottie Pippen or David Robinson

Other Nominees: Reggie Miller, Mark Jackson, Horace Grant, Muggsy Bogues

Vintage Grade: A

Comment: We've been spoiled by 1963. Two players that couldn't singlehandedly deliver their teams to a title, but that legitimately carried their teams to contention for a few transcendent years on both ends. We also have the second-leading assist leader (Jackson), the second-leading three-point shooter (Miller), an incredibly successful journeyman and apparently the main source for Sam Smith's classic The Jordan Rules (Grant), and the tiniest player of all (Bogues). I switched an A and A+ between this and 1938, because I think Oscar-West is a few notches above Pippen-Robinson. No, not a perfect grade, but still a great class. I mean, the list of players was so concentrated with talent that, in a last minute decision, to top it all off, Starks got ejected.

1966

Best Player: Dikembe Mutombo

Other Nominees: Tim Hardaway, Kevin Johnson, Danny Manning

Vintage Grade: B-

Mutombo had a pretty darn successful career and I see no reason why a likable, awesome, defensive/rebounding superstar with two crucial roles on contenders (okay, they were the Nets and Sixers, and he was a roleplayer in NJ, but still) who loved the game wouldn't go into the HOF on his first chance. Then again, what happened to Rodman that it took him until 2011?

Including Hardaway and Johnson was easy. As for Danny Manning? Well, he posted a 31-18-2-5-2 in a National Championship game and was named the Big Eight player of the decade. That means he was the best player drawn from an eighty-team sample. I don't feel bad putting Danny Manning as a nominee, plus I'm sure Joe Posnanski saw this game, so that's a plus.

1967

Best Player: Glen Rice

Other Nominees: Mookie Blaylock, Derrick Coleman

Vintage Grade: D+

Comment: As a convenience, I've been using basketball-reference.com's Birth Years Frivolity. For each year I sort by minutes played, because there's usually a fairly clear line below which is "don't even bother" and above which is "you should probably look them up" (Note: This stops working around 1983-4). In 1966 - a year I gave a B- to - 13 players have more than 20000 minutes played, and 9 have more than 25000. In 1967, only 3 players (Rice, Blaylock, Coleman) have more than 20000 minutes. Neatly, all three have more than 25000, too. Neatly, they are the only players that you'd think to mention from this class as even decent starters. I went with Glen Rice as the best because he got a substantial MVP vote in 1997, he actually was part of a great team (2000 Lakers), and he's the closest to perennial All-Star in this class.

1968

Best Player: Gary Payton

Other Nominees: Sean Elliott, Vlade Divac

Vintage Grade: B+

Comment:

The 1996 Bulls ended up 87-13 and 15-3 in the playoffs. That's pretty unreal, but the Payton-Kemp-Schrempf Sonics had firmly earned their own place in history: Two of those 3 playoff losses came from Seattle crawling out of an 0-3 hole. (The commentariat actually went a little bananas with these two losses as they happened, saying that the 1996 Bulls might not even be the best Bulls team of the 1990s. Yeah, really.). So the Sonics getting to Game 6 was a little insane, and Ron Harper's injury and the Bulls' age actually put a little fear in the hearts of Chicagoans that the greatest team of all time might very well suffer the greatest choke in the history of professional basketball. And a lot of the credit for the possibility of the Sonics' ultimate upset and comeback goes to Sonics PG Gary Payton. Standing just 6'4'', Payton earned and deserved the 1996 DPOY in an era of brilliant defensive big men, finding 2.9 takeaways per game.

Once Sonics coach George Karl decided to use Payton on Jordan instead of "a random sequence of non-DPOY guards" in Game 4 (really), the whole tenor of the series changed: Payton played near-perfect defense on Jordan and (aside from various switches) the two were constantly vying for position, with Jordan usually far from an ideal place even when he won. Though the commentators only rarely mentioned it (usually only to note that Jordan was shooting a low percentage), Payton dominated Jordan defensively. By Game 6, all Jordan could do to get some workaday baskets was to take advantage of a couple facts:

• Payton isn't Michael Jordan, and Michael Jordan had a reputation as the GOAT, even in 1996. He could trip over his own feet and run into people and a lot of times he wouldn't get called for a foul but his man (in this case Payton) would, especially in the United Center.
• Payton is one person. He isn't two people, and people that aren't two people can't be two places at once, and they have a nasty susceptibility to screens and switches and rotations, no matter how tenacious and intelligent they are.
• Sonics not named Gary Payton had a tough time dealing with Jordan. (the obscure Vincent Askew was possibly the only other Sonic that truly contained Jordan on a possession, and he was [according to the commentators] in Karl's doghouse and logged just 5:00).

"In the souls of the people the grapes of wrath are filling and growing heavy, growing heavy for the vintage."

--John Steinbeck, The Grapes of Wrath

"I think he was talking about basketball and birth years."

--Anonymous

The venerable Joe Posnanski has once again come out with a masterpiece of readable sports trivia. What's his angle? Well, he takes every baseball birth year since 1931 (when Mantle, Mathews, Banks, and Mays were born), and grades that birth year's "vintage". It's a cute idea which immediately inspires a 58-bullet-point-list, each bullet point with multiple sections. Now, of course it's Pos' massive knowledge of the figures involved that really glues this together, but once he found the premise, the rest of the piece kind of wrote itself. So we're going to do the same for basketball - eventually. This is going to take a several part series, but we think the end result will be worth it, albeit absolutely trivial at its core. We'll start at 1934.

1934

Best Player: Bill Russell

Other Nominees: Elgin Baylor, Jack Twyman, Tom Heinsohn

Vintage Grade: A+

Comment: Suitably we're starting with the first really great year. You have a GOAT candidate and his 11 titles in Russell, which automatically makes this a great year. Then you have Russell's incredibly depressing also-ran counterpart that is also a historical great in Baylor. Finally you have Russell's comic foil and GOAT announcer Tom Heinsohn. Oh, and marginal HOFer Jack Twyman, who really has one of the great stories in the history of basketball to his credit.

1935

Best Player: Guy Rodgers (yes, really)

Other Nominees: Jim Krebs, Charlie Tyra, Barney Cable

Vintage Grade: F

Comment: No, I haven't heard of them either. Guy Rodgers has more than double the minutes of anyone else from this birth year. He's...a starter that got 12-4-8 from 1959 to 1970. It's a good thing we started with 1934, isn't it?

1936

Best Player: Wilt Chamberlain

Other Nominees: Hal Greer, Dick Barnett, Don Ohl

Vintage Grade: B+

Comment: I have trouble giving this lower than a "B" with one of the great forces in the history of the game. Wilt carries this class to an above-average year by himself. A starter from the beloved 1970s Knicks (Barnett), a 5-time All-Star (Ohl), and a HOF teammate on Wilt's famed 1967 Sixers? Yeah, pretty good vintage.

1937

Best Player: Lenny Wilkens

Other Nominees: Bailey Howell, Wayne Embry

Vintage Grade: B-

Comment: Lenny Wilkens actually finished second in the 1968 MVP vote. That's pretty damn impressive, all considering (though it would have been a travesty if he had won)...plus he was a 9-time All-Star, an ASG MVP, and that coach that coached a lot. He also served in the military at one point and gave us a sad, frank look into American racism from that period. Howell (HOF; late Russell Celtics) and Embry (Oscar Robertson teammate, late Russell Celtics) both had solid careers. A low B, in other words.

1938

Best Player: Oscar Robertson or Jerry West, take your pick

Other Nominees: Tom Sanders, Gus Johnson

Vintage Grade: A+

Comment: "A" is for "An especially great class with two first-ballot HOFers of the highest order that didn't get their rings until well after their primes." Tom Sanders has 8 rings with the Boston Celtics, leading to his famous nickname "Big Shot Tom". Also, check out Gus Johnson's Wikipedia page for a really cool bit of history. It's story time, kids. This Wikipedia article really "Nails" it. Hop on the bus, Gus; we need to discuss much. Later Edit: Wait, Oscar Robertson and Jerry West together not an A+? Yeah, that's a terrible choice on my part.

1939

Best Player: Walt Bellamy

Other Nominees: Bill Bridges, Zelmo Beaty

Vintage Grade: C

Comment: This article seems pretty damning of Bellamy, though all accounts also point to a supremely talented seven-footer. This damning article itself says that Bellamy would give a team a fighting chance against Wilt or Russell in their primes. But, I mean, Bellamy never made it to the ASG after 26, never once (in 14 seasons) cracked an All-NBA team, and overall gives you the sense that he had put antifreeze in the basketball wine for this year.

1940

Best Player: John Havlicek

Other Nominees: Chet Walker, Jerry Lucas, Don Nelson, Dave DeBusschere

Vintage Grade: A-

Comment: Though Havlicek is by far the best player of the five here, the other four would have gotten a B by themselves. Don Nelson had a decent career with the late-dynasty Celtics and then went on to coach a million games and win 53% of them. Lucas is an Ohio Basketball Legend who can remember anything and can teach you to do the same. Lucas once pulled down 40 rebounds in a game, as a forward (as he said himself on a recent Cavs' broadcast), and on the 70s Knicks Lucas' teammate Debusschere was a crucial all-world defensive player.

1941

Best Player: Nate Thurmond

Other Nominees: None

Vintage Grade: B

Comment: Historically great defender? Check. Historically great rebounder? True. Did he get a quadruple-double this one time? Fact. Was he from Akron and make the Miracle of Richfield possible for the Cavs? Yup. _1941 gets a B. _

Hawkins was the prototype of the SLAM magazine superstar. Before SLAM even existed.

1942

Best Player: Willis Reed or Connie Hawkins

Other Nominees: Jerry Sloan, Bob Love

Vintage Grade: A

Comments: Solid A. Reed/Hawkins was a tough decision and I decided not to make it: Willis Reed definitely has the more impressive NBA resume, racking up every imaginable individual and team honor in 1969-70 and having his name be synonymous with toughness. His name is on a feature on this blog. And we like to reward achievement instead of idle speculation. But sometimes - as the lockout and its threat to legacies should have shown us - the NBA is susceptible enough to contemporary forces not to have the absolute last word on legacies, and we have to stand up for folks like Connie Hawkins sometimes. See, Hawkins had a completely bullshit block placed on his NBA career (thanks, everyone involved in point-shaving and the resulting arbitrary backlash). One of the most legendary and exciting streetballers ever to lace up, Connie Hawkins came to the league only after long stays with the Globetrotters and the ABA. "If he hadn't got such a bad deal, you would mention Connie Hawkins with Baylor and Pettit," Russell said. We can roll with that, especially considering he did pretty great in the ABA to back up Bill Russell's sentiment.

1943

Best Player: Billy Cunningham or Dave Bing

Other Nominees: Bill Bradley, Gail Goodrich

Vintage Grade: C

Comments: Okay, so you want a dilemma? Scroll down to "Appearances on Leaderboards, Awards, and Honors" on both Cunningham and Bing. It's a pretty even matchup, right? Well, I'm glad we've established that. Aaron, like, met Bill Bradley this one time, I think. Editor's Note: Yes, Alex, I did. He's a really nice guy, and his wife is very sweet.

1944

Best Player: Rick Barry

Other Nominees: Earl Monroe, Lou Hudson, Louie Dampier

Vintage Grade: A-

Comments: Underhanded free throws, hilariously awkward media gaffes with the GOAT, the thousands of people he has personally upset. These are the the things we associate with Rick Barry. But he is also easily the best player born in 1944. Bigger than Jesus.

1945

Best Player: Elvin Hayes or Walt Frazier

Other Nominees: None

Vintage Grade: B+

Comments: Every firsthand account of Elvin Hayes is kind of bad and every firsthand account of Walt Frazier is pretty good. But Hayes played 50000 quality minutes (literally exactly; kind of a weird situation there with the tanking pre-Hakeem Rockets). Clyde was a decent, stylish, creative person who wrote a book about catching flies and anticipating steals and about coming correct in all manners of life. Hayes was "the most despicable person I've ever met in sports" (coach Alex Hannum). I'm sure I know who you'd pick. But 50000 minutes is a friggin ton. And we have to be objective on this blog. Plus, imagine how good Hayes would have to be if they still played him that much despite hating him and believing he shrunk in the clutch. Anyway, whatever the case, check this out: _Nearly every single contemporary account of Hayes is hilariously negative; even the positive things are taken as exceptions. _

1946

Best Player: Wes Unseld

Other Nominees: Bingo Smith, Don Chaney, Jo Jo White

Vintage Grade: C+

The best player on one of the weakest contending teams in the shot clock era, Unseld is a walking trivia machine: He was named Finals MVP in 1978 nine years after his only MVP, which was also his only All-NBA season and his rookie year. There are like 10 trivia questions in that sentence, seriously. Thanks, Wes. Don Chaney is the answer to (I think) Bill Simmons' great trivia question: Who played with both Bill Russell and Larry Bird? (Don Chaney) Finally, I only included Bingo Smith so that I could link to the scrappiest article in the history of professional sports, which involves Bingo Smith quite a bit. Also, Bingo has had a lot of health issues (major strokes), and that's pretty unfortunate: Dude is classy and solid as hell.

1947

Best Player: Kareem Abdul-Jabbar

Other Nominees: Pete Maravich, Norm Van Lier, Bob Dandridge

Vintage Grade: A

Comment: It's not quite 1934 with Russell and Baylor, but it's pretty close. Obviously Kareem is right up there as a GOAT candidate; he really mattered - like, seriously, made a difference in the outcomes of college and pro basketball - from about 1965 to 1990, and he was a top 3 player (at least) for 50% of that era. Can anyone else say anything to that? Well, Russell and Jordan can, for about 20 years apiece. But that's about the beginning and the end of the matter. Pistol Pete was an ungodly scorer and an ungodly passer. I'm rolling with a high A here.

1948

Best Player: Dave Cowens

Other Nominees: Tiny Archibald, Dan Issel, Bob Lanier, Calvin Murphy

Vintage Grade: A

Comment: Two of the tiniest HOFers out there (Tiny, Calvin), the former inspiring a cool SI portrait, the latter inspiring a Red on Roundball in which Calvin Murphy twirls a baton at a world-class level while Red Auerbach explains that you should never use size as an excuse. Cowens, on the other hand? He only inspired the greatest "absurd GM-period Auerbach" article. Oh, and he won some basketball games. All of them won many a basketball game.

"I had never for a minute thought of Cowens as a coach," Auerbach said later. "He was the last guy. I always thought when his playing days were over he'd get in his truck and go cut down Christmas trees. But then I started thinking about his personality. He doesn't like losing one bit more than I do."

--From John Papanek's "Call it the Redheaded League," SI, Nov. 27, 1978

1949

Best Player: Artis Gilmore

Other Nominees: Sidney Wicks, Spencer Haywood

Vintage Grade: B-

Comment: Artis Gilmore put up an 18.8-12.3-2.3-0.6-2.3 line in 1300 games on .582 shooting. _ Sure, some of it was in the ABA, and his raw stats do get a little worse from his slightly older NBA days. Weirdly, though, his efficiency stats actually _get better from his 12 years in the NBA: His NBA shooting percentage was (a historically great considering sample size) .599! In 12 years! His is one of those strange cases where he got every award imaginable in the ABA and his productivity actually carried over to the NBA. But despite the highest respect of his contemporaries like Bill Walton and Kareem and the clear statistical evidence to back it up, Gilmore really didn't receive the All-NBA and All-Star accolades for his production, only now in 2011 being awarded to the Hall of Fame. It's quite strange.

Dexter Morgan proceeded to sue Dr. J for copyright infringement, in treble damages.

1950

Best Player: Julius Erving

Other Nominees: George McGinnis

Vintage Grade: B+

Comment: Okay, Julius Erving is a remarkable player, the spiritual enigma of improvisational creativity on one hand and the work-a-day prototype for every legendary wing to follow. He dunked two balls this one time and he dunked from the free throw line. Literally in the same contest. He is the face of the ABA's memory. Dr. J made the dunk what it is - an event. Not only that, but he was an underratedly efficient player defensively and on the boards. Dr. J won 2 ABA titles and 1 NBA title, he won 3 ABA MVPs and 1 in the NBA, and while it's technically true that he wasn't the "alpha dog" in 1983 and that, okay, his last ASG (of 16 consecutive) was more of a victory lap, let's be real: he was the second best player on a historically great team (83 Sixers) and won every imaginable accolade besides Finals MVP. I've talked myself into bringing this class (made almost solely of Erving and a decent-but-unspectacular McGinnis) up to a B+ from a B- in the course of writing this paragraph, put it that way.

1951

Best Player: Bob McAdoo

Other Nominees: Bobby Jones

Vintage Grade: B-

Comment: McAdoo's a first-ballot HOFer and an MVP. Bobby Jones was the well-regarded sixth man on the famous 83 Sixers. It's decent wine. It's a decent year.

1952

Best Player: George Gervin or Bill Walton

Other Nominees: Maurice Lucas

Vintage Grade: A-

Comment: Do you like productivity? What kind of productivity? Be more specific. If you like historical-level greatness that can carry your team to a title or be an ideal sixth man while spouting hippie slogans and hyperbole from a seven-foot redheaded frame and getting constantly horribly injured, then Bill Walton is your guy.

If you're looking for someone that plays nearly 3 times as many minutes as Walton in his career (no lie; 35597 to 13250), and is a clever, efficient, fun scorer that never quite got onto a contender and manages a level of infinite cool that transcends established concepts of hipness*, then you're probably looking for George "The Iceman" Gervin.

*"Whereas I never went fly like some of the boys," says Gervin. "I'm conservative. I got the short hair, the pencil 'stache, the simple clothes. Plus I'm 6'8", 183—no, make that 185—and when you look at me all you see is bone. Otherwise in Detroit I'm known as Twig according to my physique. I just do my thing and stay consistent. I figure the people be recognizing the Iceman pretty soon now. Whereas I be up there in a minute."

My mind is breaking.

Oh, and if you're looking for a really great power forward that could keep the 77 Blazers from floating up into the clouds by just getting up in everyone's faces and winning everyone's respect as an enforcer with a spirit, you're looking for Mo Lucas.

In any case, you're a very particular person.

1953

Best Player: Robert Parish

Other Nominees: Jamaal Wilkes, World B. Free

Vintage Grade: B

Comment: Parish the thought that you'll have a longer or more accomplished career than Robert Parish. This class would have been a B- or a C+ but 00 kept plugging away at his work for so many years and I decided I'd give his entire class a B.

1954

Best Player: None...

Other Nominees: Alex English, Dennis Johnson, David Thompson

Vintage Grade: C+

Comment: All HOFers, all historically great. None of them were that great, though. DJ was involved in one of the most famous plays in all of basketball history in the 87 ECF. You probably know the call by heart even without a link. Oh, well, here it is: "That's a set play, off the backboard." Less famously from the same series, DJ cut towards the basket after Bird stole Isiah's inbounds pass. Thompson of course had immense potential (and a great college career) that was derailed too soon by substance abuse problems and injury.

1955

Best Player: Moses Malone

Other Nominees: Jack Sikma

Vintage Grade: A-

Comment: "They tried to make us go the distance, I said "Fo', Fo', Fo'". Yes we got beat (by Sidney Moncrief), I say: "Fo' Fi' Fo'"." -Amy Winehouse, "Moses Malone Autobiography"

• • •

We'll have more tomorrow! We'll cover the Dream Team and work our way up to just about Gary Payton. In case you haven't seen it, Aaron was featured (and will be featured for the next few weeks) on Fear the Sword for some quality player previews with Conrad Kaczmarek. Not that it'll affect his posts here -- dude is a warhorse, he's probably got a camel in his back or something. I don't actually know what that means, but then again, neither do you.

Editor's Note: Aaron may be responsible for that last sentence, there.

Editor's Note #2: And these editor's notes, as well. Maybe.

So, the NBA usually puts really crummy games on at Thanksgiving. Like, incredibly crummy. If you've been watching the NBA in the past decade, you know the score. This year, when we were all naive young souls who didn't know our season would be cancelled, the lineup was (I kid you not) the Hawks hosting the 76ers and the Clippers hosting the Hornets. Which may be bad, but they aren't any worse than previous years. In fact, they may be marginally better. The NBA only officially began the trend of nationally televised late games on Thanksgiving in 2009, but they still scheduled Thanksgiving games before. So let's take a look back at the last decade's NBA on Thanksgiving, because I'm still waiting for dinner and have little better to do.

• • •

• 2010: ATL 116 v WAS 96 & LAC 100 v SAC 82
  I remember this slate, mainly because I actually watched it. Before these games were nationally televised I had little to no means to actually watch them, so I'd just read about them in the paper the next day. I distinctly remember being marginally impressed with Josh Smith, but being far more impressed with the mushroom ravioli my girlfriend's father had made from scratch. Blake was good in the nightcap, though I thought Gordon was better.

• 2009: ORL 93 v ATL 76 & UTA 105 v CHI 86
  So THIS is why the Bulls signed Boozer to that insane contract! He went dynamo on the Bulls on Thanksgiving night, putting up 28-8-5 with a steal and three blocks on 85% shooting in 35 minutes of work. Glad we finally got to the bottom of that. Otherwise, an extremely boring night, with an average margin of victory of +18 points. No transcendent performances to speak of.

• 2008: ORL 105 v WAS 90 & NOH 104, DEN 101
  Holy shit! It's a game that was actually worth watching! Am I seeing things? The Hornets were fresh off nearly making the WCF in 2008, and the Nuggets would make the WCF that season. Chauncey Billups was still adjusting to his teammates, and shot a hilariously bad 33% on the night. Hilton Armstrong started at center for the shorthanded Hornets, J.R. Smith dropped 32, and the game was tied with 25 seconds to go before Posey dropped a three-bomb on J.R. Smith's face. The Nuggets missed a chance to tie it, had to force free throws, and nearly shocked them when Smith made a swag three with four seconds to go, but the Hornets made their free throws to close the night out. Looks like the kind of fun unexpected regular season close one that I WISH I WAS WATCHING RIGHT NOW. In other news: the 2009 Wizards blew, and the Magic made the finals that year.

• 2007: No games scheduled.
  Whoa, whoops! I had forgotten about the legendary 2007 Thanksgiving player strike, where the NBPA boycott Thanksgiving games in order to protest the draconian "everyone must wear turkey suits" dress code instituted by David $tern for that year's Thanksgiving slate. Instead, they all played NBA 2k12 and wondered how the hell LeBron, Wade, and Bosh had ended up on the same team. Also: they all wondered how they'd somehow gotten copies of a game that wasn't to be released for four more years. Then they realized that seeing too much of their own future could create a time paradox, the result of which could cause a chain reaction that would unravel the very fabric of the space-time continuum and destroy the entire universe. Then Barkley did a Chaos Dunk, and everyone stopped worrying about it and ended the strike.

• 2006: WEST SIDE STORY 112 v MACBETH 140
  This year, $tern decided to treat the players to a Thanksgiving off. In so doing, he decided that the 2006 Thanksgiving slate would be played by two troupes of actors currently starring in competing plays in the San Fernando valley. They had to hoop it up in full costume, leading to some awkward moments where the Macbeth Players tripped on their robes while trying to run the fast break. Despite lacking any competent defensive talent on either team, the players scrapped it out on offense. The Macbeth crew pulled it out behind a magical night from their star, scoring 67 on a wide array of trick shots, swag threes, and generally balled all over everyone's face. It was fantastic. Upon completion of the game and an awarding of the complimentary bathrobe stamped with David Stern's face, Macbeth gave a celebratory speech only to be tragically cut short by the reanimated corpse of Emperor Norton shooting him and accusing Stern of regicide. He then broke up the crowd with an ill-conceived duel with Stern's handlers. Entertaining, but Norton's corpse was never heard from again.

• 2005: __DET 235 v AIR BUD'S PICKUP TEAM 25__
  Wow, uh... that turned into sort of a slaughter. A mercy rule game if there ever was one. At least it answered the age-old question as to whether Air Bud was really a good player. Disastrous 1-26 shooting night from the old pup, along with 23 turnovers (an NBA record) despite fouling out with only 20 minutes to his name. And thus was Air Bud revealed to be, as the folks at I Go Hard Now once surmised, little more than a ballhogging chucker that simply couldn't make it in the big leagues. I don't know why Stern had them do this game. A cruel matchup, at best.

Mike, I'm very happy for you, but this green sweater you gave me makes me look
like a goddamn Christmas tree at the Masters tournament. I'm really furious.

Hey, what's going on? Since Aaron has taken it upon himself to try solve the lockout singlehandedly with some fantastic (if not fatalistic) journalism, I thought I could share some quick thoughts on Duke-MSU last night.__ I actually only watched the first half, but Duke's win over MSU gave Blue Devils coach Mike Krzyzewski his 903th D-I win, putting him ahead of Bob Knight for most wins all time. This is of course an historic occasion for college basketball, as Coach K - for better or for worse - has been at the center of the college landscape for the better part of three decades. 903 wins is also an incredible accomplishment, and Coach K has done it in a way that has gained the universal (if occasionally begrudging) respect of everyone in college basketball. And he's a great Olympic coach, too.

Commentators have already covered the "Knight as Krzyzewski's coach and mentor" angle extensively, and it's all well and good. But what was great about the ESPN broadcast is that they got Knight himself to commentate. Knight's infamous and enigmatic personality was on display*, but it wasn't the main attraction. No, the real attraction is that Knight brought a true coach's mind to the press box. It's nice to get the perspectives of Jeff Van Gundy, Doug Collins, and Hubie Brown: They're all great, enthusiastic commentators, sure, and they all had some success as coaches. But Knight is an uber-coach, and what's more, he was a great communicator that had a keen eye for the crucial little details of basketball.

_*Knight joked about fellow commentator Jay Bilas' shooting ability in college: "I'd have let you shot-fake, but then I wouldn't let you shoot" Haw haw haw. __Knight made this joke five separate times.___

In this game Knight gave us some of these crucial little details. Knight - along with the great Jay Bilas - showed how MSU would use down-screens on set plays to get open, how great shooters like Andre Dawkins would have "all ten toes pointed at the basket, and their shoulders naturally follow." Things like that. Things like how the move to create space in the post is far more impressive than the ensuing dunk. Things that you pick up from years of watching kids succeed and fail, simple things that might be invisible to the viewer at home. It was a basketball mini-lesson on whatever came up. When you didn't see what Knight saw, you had a new thing to look for. When you did see what Knight saw, you recognized his gift for putting it into words, no doubt the product of a thousand timeouts and film sessions. Yes, a lot of us know about the triple-threat position and the value of driving, but last night Bob Knight brought a clarity to even well-worn facets of the game.

When Knight was asked at one point about his former West Point "point guard" Mike Krzyzewski, he said, simply, "I didn't know what a point guard was back then. He was the guy who handled the ball. I never figured out what a point guard is. No, but he was a student of the game, and a very good wing defender." I think that's great, because it shows in a few short sentences how Knight thinks of players: in terms of their roles, contributions, and character, not their presumed position, potential, or convention. Knight worked with the personnel he had, instead of the players he should have, could have, or would have. It's the common thread that binds all successful leaders of the hardwood. Coach Knight innovated not from rigid theory but from his fluid cast of players and their skillsets - obsessively tweaking and rehauling his style every year to meet his era and his recruiting class. Coach Knight's 902 wins form a great accomplishment that will never be forgotten. But even more importantly, Knight inspired his protege Mike Krzyzewski to do the same for his program with as much success.*

*Or, statistically speaking, with one more success.

JoePa book to examine the 'real' person - Oct 21, 2011

The above article shows you - through its absence - how quickly and authoritatively the sports media has covered and colored the Sandusky-Paterno situation at Penn State. You just have to wonder what Joe Posnanski could be feeling, to have his "dream book's" subject go from the most respected person in college athletics to one of the most disrespected. This is some amazing, surreal stuff, folks.

I'm not trying to foist my expectations on Posnanski, but the nexus of talent and situation is uncanny: he is the best sportswriter in America writing an authorized book - originally his dream subject - about his good friend, who just happens to be at the the center of arguably the biggest scandal in the history of American college athletics since Len Bias. Anything short of "The Breaks of The Game" is going to be a disappointment to anyone that understands Posnanski's talent and the historical place of Penn State. Posnanski is in the weird situation of Brian Wilson before the SMiLE album - unfathomably high sudden expectations. I just hope he can deliver and come out the other side without an eternal bitterness, because it's the optimism and virtue that has made Posnanski so much more than just a scribe to his fans.

Of course, all of this aside, our thoughts are with the victims of the senseless tragedy in State College.

Joe Frazier

R.I.P. Smokin' Joe. Joe Frazier died today at the age of 67, leaving behind (of course) three classic Ali bouts and one of the great classics of sportswriting, "Ghosts of Manila" by the late Mark Kram. I reviewed "Ghosts" last year for the precursor to this blog, and I figure it would be good to edit a bit and repost it.

UPDATE: DAMN YOU SIMMONS!!!! Seriously, it was actually Simmons' original post that inspired me to read "Ghosts" and write the original book review. It's just weird we both had the exact same idea to edit or repost our reviews. It's not a coincidence, though: "Ghosts of Manila" is like an obituary to Frazier written before he died.

Mark Kram’s “Ghosts of Manila” recounts the third and final bout between heavyweights Muhammad Ali and Joe Frazier, in the Phillippines of the 70s so rife with corruption: the infamous "Thrilla in Manila". Kram paints Ali as a gifted and enigmatic boxer, but gives us a dark side as well: Far from the acclaimed cultural icon and civil rights leader that lives in cultural memory, Ali's is a flawed celebrity whose cultural power is by the end up for a sick sociological auction built on exploiting weaknesses in his personality and his standing. Under the influence of relatively insidious Black Muslims, Ali was at the center of a media machine that "played him like a fiddle" in Manila. Frazier, on the other hand, had done everything right: With quiet, unassuming dignity, Frazier would do what he had to in order to win in the ring: a tough, classy, scrappy competitor of the highest caliber. But as virtuous as Frazier had been, Joe found himself outcast because of Ali's defamatory and malicious statements. Joe found himself in foreboding danger because of the shady Black Muslims around Ali. And eventually, when the dust had settled, Joe found himself filled with permanent hatred because of the injustices of his experiences with Ali. Ali and Frazier, in their own ways, killed was was true and dynamic about one another in that fight.

Ali's disturbing existence is exemplified by the epilogue of "Ghosts", where his current (~2000) handlers take a shaking Ali to a quack doctor. It's surreal: Years after the symptoms of his Parkinson’s had appeared, this doctor continues to deny the reality of Ali’s neurological disorder. No, the doctor tells Ali, your problems weren’t caused by having been hit in the head hundreds of thousands of times: You have a “blood problem”. I mean, the whole episode is pathetic, lacking even the comfort of a lesson: It’s doomed to repeat forever for Ali, maybe with different handlers now and again. Throughout this whole epilogue, it’s hard to tell if Ali’s handlers (a constantly changing group of people) are malicious, or merely the hired, fungible managers of a lucrative company whose product just happens to be an individual.* And the episode raises so many disturbing questions: Are these handlers denying Ali's Parkinson's because it helps them control the purse-strings better? Is Ali himself denying the disorder to himself to prevent having to face his mortality? Is there a horrible group-think inherent to these types of “people-managers” that surround celebrities that allow spectacles like “The Decision” to go forward? The answers, Kram seems to imply, are impossible to divine, but always lead us into a sick Gordian knot of tangled lives and every sort of vice. The knot eventually strangles Ali, leaving him with bad handlers and an accommodating void of a personality, not to mention a fighting career extended to the point of parody.

*Striking resemblance to (great young sportswriter) Shane Ryan's portrait of Ric Flair, actually.

More profoundly, the knot strangles Frazier, the central tragedy of “Ghosts,” for getting too close to Ali. For even as Kram masterfully shows us Ali, Frazier’s story is clearly more important to the author. Their bouts leave Frazier with a legitimate fear of and anger at Ali and the Black Muslims. The hardworking, tenacious Frazier stands against Ali and his vicious army of handlers with grace and dignity. Meanwhile, Ali (Kram tells us) excused by silence the Black Muslims’ role in Malcolm X’s assassination. Ali had the unmitigated temerity to place the “Uncle Tom” label on authentic* Frazier and with Ali’s relative media machine, Frazier as "Uncle Tom" stuck. For awhile Frazier surreally symbolized the establishment to a lot of people. Cosmic unfairness, a ghost that won’t leave, a public image of a rivalry that is amazingly false. And it all grows on Frazier: His fear and anger at Ali slowly transmute into unbelievable, paranoid, absolute contempt. For even as he held his own, through sheer will, training and integrity, with the most brilliant, athletic heavyweight of his era, the public nevertheless understood Frazier as the enemy of Ali, a force of injustice standing in the way of Ali’s quest for glory against the American establishment.** By the epilogue with Ali's sad blood work incident, Frazier is just as damaged spiritually, making amazingly sad, bitter comments years after Manila. Granted, more recent reports have found Frazier with more pity for Ali and his devastating neurological condition, but you have to think that's all it is: Sheer sympathy.

*Frazier endured real childhood poverty, while Ali manufactured his childhood poverty out of motivation, delusion, or marketability.
__**Kram expresses his mystification that Hemingway’s favorite boxer was Ali and not the stoic Frazier. But really, Kram is not mystified at all: Ali’s narrative behemoth had, over time, simply obscured all other narratives. So Hemingway couldn't really see the fighters.

Now, Kram often comes off as annoyingly moralistic, the kind of guy that uses a few pages and a flimsy pretext to call all Boomers selfish opportunists, the kind of guy that detects tiny imbalances of power and injustices, and rails angrily against them regardless of any possible justification. And this works to his disadvantage as a chronicler: We have to trust him, because we were not there, but his style is so rhetorical, so absolutely shrill at times, that we end up not wanting to trust him, and so we don’t. Similarly to Joe Menzer’s “Four Corners,” Kram’s failure to gain ideological credibility means that we have to read his history in a slightly non-literal, mythological sense. But it is a history, and what Kram lacks in credibility he more than gains in depth and breadth of understanding: "Ghosts" captures the aesthetics of boxing with great descriptions and quick biographies of its historical figures. Kram is great at finding the tiny facts that are difficult to tease out (such as that Joe Frazier was literally blind in one eye and hid it from the boxing authorities) and amazingly vivid descriptions of the instants and rounds and motions of the sweet science. Boxing in America has long had great writing as part of its heritage, and Kram continues that tradition.

And unlike “Four Corners,” which I can’t defend as a conscious mythology (I seriously doubt a mythology was actually Menzer’s intent, even if the interpretation works), Kram is conscious poet and myth writer in “Manila”. For he is a supreme craftsman: If his footwork (overbearing rhetoric) is often dodgy and clumsy, his hits (turns of phrases, literary interpretations) are still immensely powerful. His poetry yields the troubled Ali and the haunted Frazier. The story of Ali and Frazier would be interesting no matter how he told it, but Kram writes in a rhythmic, off-beat style more at home in a shelf with Steinbeck or Conrad than with Bill Simmons or even Halberstam, and at every moment you have to be on your toes for the deceptively insightful devices and questions that Kram’s sometimes straightforward metaphors and interviews belie. Like a formative Ali, Kram tunes his style, always dodging and weaving, relentlessly seeking ideal craft through the medium of writing, while at all times keeping a little corner to rest the style for awhile just to get at the fallen Frazier without any tricks or steps.

So, according to our friends at Public Policy Polling, Aaron Rodgers has a 89% approval rating in Wisconsin, to go with a 4% disapproval rating and 7% having no opinion. These are, according to them, the best favorability numbers they've gotten in any poll they've ever conducted. As a statistician I don't find that particularly hard to fathom -- Aaron Rodgers has the ideal mix of being a franchise cornerstone coming off a magical season and unexpected playoff run in the most popular sport in America. He's nice, nonconfrontational, and beloved.

The poll did raise the question with me, though -- what athletes would match it? That is, are there any athletes on earth with Rodgers' combination of widespread love and widespread knowledge? That is -- anybody with 90%+ approval and 7% or less nonresponse. Given how relatively neat and simple the line seems to be, I shall hereby refer to it as "the Rodgers test." It is the test of an athlete so beloved and well-known that they could outpoll God in their sphere of influence. But what's a test without some cold hard facts? For your consumption, I revved up the Poll-O-Matic 3000 and decided to pose the question with the power of instant and unbelievably accurate polling -- could any random athletes who came to mind beat Aaron Rodgers? My brilliant, groundbreaking, publishing-quality results follow.

Disclaimer: None of these are real polls. At all. They are canon, though.

• Manny Pacquiano: 87% approval, 2% disapproval, 11% no opinion (n=242 adults in the Philippines)

  Clearly, Manny is hurt by the lack of knowledge the general populace has of boxing. If only he played something popular, like Rugby, or Checkers, or Chess -- then he would truly pass The Rodgers Test.

• Manu Ginobili: 85% approval, 7% disapproval, 8% no opinion (n=467 adults in Argentina)

  I'm getting word that Manu's 7% disapproval comes from confused Argentinians who thought we were asking about Manchester United. I... whoops. My bad. The Poll-O-Matic has some kinks to be ironed out, Ray Davies style.

• David Robinson: 94% approval, 1% disapproval, 5% no opinion (n=145 adults in San Antonio)

  I looked at the results for this one. The 1% disapproval comes from David Robinson himself, who gave the interviewer a two hour sermon on how disappointed he would be with himself if he were to ever give himself credit he felt he was not due. It changed the interviewer's life and he converted to Christianity on the spot. Anyway, good job David.

• Michael Jordan: 85% approval, 16% "too cool" for an opinion (n=26 hipsters in Chicago)

  Wait, what? Poll-O-Matic, what the hell kind of a sample size is that?

• Roger Mason Jr.: 1% approval, 84% disapproval, 15% shot themselves immediately (n=40 adults in New York)
  

  Oh sweet Jesus what have I done.

Hey, everybody! Tonight designates the official unveiling of The Gothic Ginobili, the premier basketblog about hoopsketball on the internet. This is primarily because there is nobody else who calls themselves a "basketblog" and hoopsketball is not actually a sport that exists. The NBA has cheated us out and refused us the sanctity of our beacon league's opening night, so we're trying to fill the gap by making our opening night a spectacular simulation of the actual opening night. In doing so, we'll be reposting three great full classic basketball games between the matchups the NBA robbed us of from the night, some fun features, and enough content to entertain any depressed NBA fan who comes across us tonight.

Here's the starting five for tonight's content, with all times in ET.

• 8:00 PM: Chicago vs Dallas, 1996 -- a regular season game where MJ and Pippen run roughshod on a bad Mavs team propped up by an impossibly good young Jason Kidd. Presented by Alex.
• 8:45 PM: The Worst Halloween Ever -- a story about Tim Duncan's failed attempt at dressing up as a psychopath for Halloween, completely foiled by the sad fact that Tim Duncan can actually read. Presented by Alex.
• 9:45 PM: Lakers vs Supersonics, 1980 -- game 5 of the 1980 Western Conference finals, where a young Kareem shows off how unstoppable he was at his prime while simultaneously demonstrating why the pre-Worthy 80s Lakers were nowhere near as good as the 90s Bulls despite having two top 10 players in the history of the human race. Presented by Aaron.
• 11:00 PM: Utah vs Houston, 1995 -- a playoff matchup between two bitter rivals in a rivalry nobody seems to remember existed. Hakeem vs Malone. Stockton vs Drexler. Texas vs Utah. Rick Perry vs Mitt Romney. Wait, not that last one, belay that. Presented in a retro-liveblog by both Alex and Aaron.
• 11:30 PM: Player Capsule #7, Kevin Durant -- To end the night, an example of what happens when I get far, far too in depth with a player capsule. Long story short: they turn into advanced scouting reports, legacy considerations, and reflections that totally go beyond the scope of the project. Not like I don't enjoy writing them, though. Presented by Aaron.

Glad you could join us. Hope you like what you see, and hope you chance to stick around!

-- The Gothic Ginobili staff (AKA Alex, Aaron, and the mop in Aaron's closet)

"Tonight, the Texas Rangers of Dallas, Texas won the World Series."

... Except for the part where they didn't. Explanation time. I wrote those words at roughly 11:41 PM, EST. The Cardinals were coming up for their last half inning. The Rangers were up 2, and had Neftali Feliz coming out -- a closer who, like Valverde, makes you sweat a little but reliably gets his three outs about as well as anyone. And yes, he certainly made it interesting. Struck out The Riot to get the Cards down to two outs, gave up a double to Pujols, walked Berkman, and got Craig on a nasty pitch. Then he got David Freese out to his last strike. Cards still down two. So I looked away from the TV and continued writing my post.

Whoops. With the game suddenly and without warning tied, I put down the computer and watched the game. Within 10 minutes, the Rangers had once again built a two run lead in the 10th on a clutch Andrus single and a Hambone homer. And once again, I picked up my computer and continued to add things to this post -- I was intending on posting it last night, after all. And once again, in the bottom of the 10th, the Cardinals were down to their last strike, and pulled out a clutch Berkman hit to tie the game and send it to another inning. But the Rangers' magic was gone -- they wouldn't score again, while Freese would proceed to blast Mark Lowe's fifth pitch of the game into the stands to make Lowe the game's loser and to force a game 7 that looked completely inconceivable not but an hour before. And made this post almost completely irrelevant, where it will only become useful if the Rangers win the world series tonight -- a tough thing to call.

... Whoops.

• • •

Let's start from the top, I'll get back to the Rangers later. I root for teams like the Browns, Indians, and Cavs, and I often find myself lumped as simply a Cleveland fan. A blank-slate advocate of the Cleveland losers. But that’s not really true. Each of those three franchises means a very, very different thing to me. Their mythos and history has a different impact. A title in any sport would have some kind of a meaning to me — just different ones. I am a fan of all the franchises, but I’m not just a blank slate who views each teams in exactly the same way. The teams are, simply put, entirely different things. And while the similarities may be jarring, when they’re different sports, it’s pretty hard to make any kind of a “look at these similar teams, look at these Cleveland fans” equivocation with a straight face knowing how completely differently I personally view the different teams that make me a “Cleveland Fan.”

What does this have to do with the Rangers? Well, I felt like it’d be decent to write a post about the similarities between the 2011 Dallas Mavericks and the 2011 Texas Rangers. In a broad sense, the Rangers and the Mavericks are in similar positions right now relative to their history. The Mavs were, historically, a broken team deep in Texas that never got anything done in the playoffs. The Rangers were the same. The Mavs went through a period of turbulence and change under a hotshot new owner that was willing to spend for talent and didn’t like to take losing for an answer, and came out of it with a two finals appearances and a title. The Rangers were the same (belaying the title part — after losing this game, I have sincere doubts that the Rangers are going to win it this year, but that’s a story that hasn’t been written yet). The Rangers would’ve won the series in six after falling behind 2-1 in the series in a set of three games that could’ve easily been 3-0. The Mavs, well, you know the deal.

There were a lot of alluring subtexts to latch on to, and a lot of interesting similarities. It certainly warrants a post. But I couldn't get far in the post because I realized that on a visceral level I take issue with this narrative. It's for the same reason I take issue with the "Cleveland fan" meme. I feel that making that sorts of equivocations about two very different Dallas teams inherently disrespects people who, like me, may not really give a flying fuck about one of the teams in question. The idea that the two teams weren’t just two great teams that happened to be in the same city, but two wayward franchises on the exact same eldritch path to success. It's the same problem I have with lazy writers calling Cleveland sports teams perennial losers or calling Boston a winner’s town. To compare the Rangers and the Mavericks on a basic level and note their similarities and the way they’ve both turned their franchises around is one thing, so long as you continue to respect their individual identities as teams. But to go farther, to haphazardly conflate their narratives into one combined mess? That’s another story. There's nothing that really legitimizes the practice of describing all of a city’s franchises in a simple “this city’s a loser, this city’s a winner!” sort of way. Which is exactly what most of the journalism highlighting these franchises has done.

The Mavericks’ title was a Dallas title, and their title will forever be a part of Dallas’ sports lore. But it’s the Mavericks’ title first and Dallas’ title second. And were the Rangers to win a title -- theirs would be a Rangers title first, a Dallas title second. No real connection other than the city, a few overlapping fans for whom the franchises still mean very different things, and the magic of journalism. A few specious comparisons make for some interesting analysis, but it's not really all that valuable -- even if it may have the potential to be the enduring storyline among sports journalists, it's not what the fans will remember, and it's really just not what's important.

In the end? Really weren't all that similar after all. Fancy that.