In the interests of keeping our team away from rote and boring features, we don't intend to do season previews this year. At least not officially. But I tried to do a few longform previews last season in the form of reflections -- for today's Capsule (Plus) on Kevin Durant, I'm going to attempt to work in a general preview to the Thunder's season. So let's see if I can make this work.

Last season, I did a variety of playoff predictions. Many were apt. For instance, I correctly predicted that the Lakers/Nuggets series would be a coin toss. Mission accomplished. I predicted that the Thunder would make short work of both the Mavericks and the winner of Lakers/Nuggets, whoever it may be. That's essentially exactly what happened. But there was one thing I believed very strongly during the duration of the preview season, something that ended up partially becoming my downfall as I turned out to be so wrong as to shock and appall me. I predicted -- with the utmost confidence -- that the Spurs would beat the Thunder, no matter where or when they match up. I predicted, in fact, that it wouldn't be close.

Let me state the obvious. I was completely, unfathomably, misguidedly wrong. Utterly and miserably. But we'll get to that later.

• • •

I've told many people over the past few months that in the rubble of last year's Western Conference Finals, I thought I'd descended into a blithely venomous antipathy for Kevin Durant. I don't really retract that, because it's still completely true. I barely watched the Olympics, partly because I simply had trouble watching any of the players on Team USA and actually rooting for them. There are those like Kobe who I simply don't like much, even if he's always a fun watch. There are those like LeBron who I still dislike heavily, despite not really hating him anymore. I love Tyson Chandler, and I love Andre Iguodala -- fantastic guys, fantastic players. But Paul is incorrigable and Williams is worse. Anthony Davis still causes me to raise an eyebrow. You go on down the list, point by point, until you reach the Thunder kids. I don't like Westbrook, and most of my friends don't like him much either, so that doesn't seem all that rare. I dislike Harden despite having respect for some aspects of his game. But, well...

"Kevin Durant, boy. I don't know."

It's nothing personal. It's kind of stupid, actually. I think Durant's likely the nicest, least-controversial star in the history of the league. He's got an "edge" only insofar as a plastic butter knife technically has one too. He's smart, engaging, and his personal story (streets of DC, putting OKC on his back, leading a team of upstarts to incredible heights with an atrocious coach for three years running) is phenomenal. But the way he eliminated my favorite team -- a flurry of insane clutch performances, crazy three point bombing, and (in general) an absolute domination few can exact on any team in the modern league? It was vicious. Eventually, I'll be able to watch him without thinking of that. Hasn't quite happened yet, though, even when watching normal regular season footage. Which leads to a general antipathy and a lack of any desire to really watch him play. You kind of know what you're going to get, in a sense.

Which leads to the main point of this post. A lot of people refer vaguely to the concept of youth when they discuss the Thunder, and default to the position that the Thunder will "naturally" be better next year due to youth alone. And thus, I posed a question to myself. How much better can Kevin Durant really get? I thought, and thought. I thought some more. And, after crunching the numbers and trying to figure out his most likely steps forward, I came to a basic conclusion. He could be a bit better. He could be a bit worse, if his shooting numbers fall off a tad -- something that often happens to tall shooters earlier than most. There are a few basic ways to improve his offense -- he needs to either get better at getting himself open against pressure (something he's currently horrible at) and better at controlling the ball when he handles it (as he's extremely turnover prone). Beyond that, short of becoming a Nash-style sniper, it's hard to see how Durant improves his offensive game. He can shoot from any spot on the court, he draws free throws in bundles akin to the Walter White methylene barrels, and he has a better shot than anyone his height in the history of the league, excepting (perhaps) the immortal Dirk. He was the best defensive rebounding small forward in the league and every single problem he has on defense is rooted in his general body-type, not a lack of effort.

But the most likely scenario? He stays about the same, onwards to the infinite.

• • •

When I say that I think Durant is roughly what he'll be in the end, I'm not saying there's no chance of the other possibilities. It's possible Durant's shooting has been overachieving a bit, and that it'll temper off. It's also possible Durant will get better -- I outlined a few ways above, like a better sense of how the hell a player should assert to get open in a pressured situation. It's a confidence interval, with a reasonably large confidence that Durant stays about the same and a small tail at either end for the other two options. The thing is, when you look at essentially every big piece on the Thunder, you start to see a similar picture. The Thunder are young in years, but old in experience -- everyone but Harden has played more than enough minutes in their career to consider their developmental period over (or at least highly close to it) and their peak years beginning. There are certain individual things each player could potentially work on, but in terms of wholescale revamping of their games, there aren't a ton of realistic possibilities.

Which in a general sense is why I feel the consensus view on the Thunder isn't quite accurate. It's not impossible, mind you -- I keep harping on uncertainty, but it's always worth repeating. It could happen. They could take the proverbial leap. It just isn't probabilistically likely, not at this juncture. The idea that the Thunder are simply bound to improve because they're so young is fundamentally flawed -- there are many ways to gauge a player's age, and when a player is operating at or near their prime performance and has played enough minutes, calendar age matters far, FAR less than their age in minutes. And there isn't a single member of the Thunder core that hasn't played more than enough minutes to enter their prime. Once in their prime, it's rare that you get a Steve Nash-style mid-career improvement. More likely, you'll simply see players perform at the same superstar level for a few years, gravitating around their actual mean performance with occasional months beyond or below that.

That's simply how aging tends to work in the NBA, and simply how the game is played. You rise, you peak, you fall. And when you reach your complete picture, you tend not to deviate too far from your productive peak mean. Which applies collectively, as well -- all this is essentially to say that I don't think the Thunder are going to be a markedly improved team this season. Eric Maynor should help, certainly, and Perry Jones is a fun X-Factor. But I don't think you can really count on the Thunder being improved. I think the Lakers will be improved, I think the Spurs will be about the same, and I think the Heat will be worse. But I really don't think the Thunder are going to be all that much better -- they'll be slightly different, perhaps, but not a whole lot better. Examining individual aging curves makes you wonder where the magical "they're young, so they'll improve" mindset comes from. These are all gut feelings, not statistical predictions. But, last season, I made sure to publish a pre-season thought regarding the Miami Heat and their ability to win a title, both going forward and in the span of last season. I'd like to repeat that general trend of getting my prediction down for future mockery, jeering, and (rarer still) the occasional right call.

So, yes. To offer my prediction as to how the Thunder's season will go, I think they start the postseason by getting pushed by a plucky eight seed that they nevertheless dispatch in 5 or 6 close games. I think they win an easier-than-expected series against the Grizzlies or the Clippers, and proceed to beat either the Spurs or the Lakers in the Western Conference Finals. They'll win in different, unpredictable ways. Perhaps their athleticism leads Brooks to run the Lakers into the ground. Perhaps age bites the Lakers too quickly, perhaps Nash has 2 or 3 off-games, perhaps Kobe goes iso-crazy at exactly the wrong time. As for the Spurs? Perhaps they win by holding homecourt and exploiting the permissive San Antonio defense. Who knows, really. It could be either, any, or all. But I think it's got a high probability of happening.

And then they'd meet the Heat, once more. Except this time, LeBron is a year older and Wade is a year worse. Their supporting cast -- full of stodgy old codgers and dodgy Juwan Howards -- is a year older, and their "big additions" from the previous offseason are worn down through the rough grind of an 82 game season and the simple machinations of Father Time. I think the Heat will be worse, next year, at least when the chips are on the table and the title defense reaches its pressurized peak. And throughout this all, will the Thunder be better? I don't think so, not to a significant degree.

But will they win a title? Quite a different question. And yes, Virginia -- I do believe they will.

• • •

I'm currently about halfway through Nate Silver's brilliant new book, The Signal and the Noise. I'm looking forward to finishing it, and I think I'll try to write up a decent-sized review/appreciation of the work. One aspect Silver focuses on in the early chapters is something I -- in college -- distinctly remember calling professors on with regularity. Many commit the sin of overinflating their own views, and making their ideas out to be certain beyond the reality. You'd think students of statistics would be mostly immune to this. After all, we learn confidence intervals and uncertainty principles at every step of our development. We spend hours and hours calculating these things by hand, and every single professor harps it until the day is done. Don't overstate your case. Don't go too far. Don't bloviate.

But alas, we're hardly immune. In fact, we may at times be worse off -- often, we simply think we're immune due to all the time we spent studying it. But it's no professional thing -- it's a human thing. Statisticians of all sorts find themselves prone to an unfortunate overconfident bluster similar to the type that any old TV analyst, social scientist, or politician espouses with impunity. We create a strong argument, a strong theory, a strong view. Then in our belief we buckle down and forget all those safeguards and caveats that any analyst should be actively sharing with their followers. As I did last year, when I -- again -- conflated confidence in the logic with certainty in execution. In the rubble of just how much that loss hurt, I never really had the chance to apologize for my overconfident reasoning leading some of the people who enjoy my analysis astray.

So, back to that wrong prediction.

My thought process was thus: the Spurs had (over the past 3 seasons) utterly dominated the Thunder in their individual matchups. The Spurs' defense -- regular season though it was -- had done a very effective job cutting down on fouls and keeping the Thunder off the line. The Spurs' offense, moreover, was essentially unguardable for the Thunder. No team in the league (not even the lowly Bobcats!) had allowed a higher offensive rating to the Spurs over the past several seasons. Going into the Western Conference Finals, the Thunder had won in San Antonio only once in the entire history of the Thunder franchise -- a meaningless game in late 2009, if you're wondering. This was the basis of my prediction -- without home court advantage against a team that had regularly obliterated them over the last 3 years, I simply didn't feel like the Thunder had a high probability of manifesting a close series. And the thing is? It wasn't a bad prediction in any of the individual steps of logic.

That all was sound. Everything fit. I seemed to have a good grasp on the pieces, a wide bredth of evidence to my assertions. So what was my problem? Why do I feel the need to apologize in any sense? Simpler than what you might think. What was bad -- and where I as a forecaster failed my reader -- was in the level of confidence I felt and openly assessed at this prediction. I told just about everyone who'd listen the litany of stats that proved my point, in turn becoming increasingly confident in my predictions and all the less uncertain in my assessment. In doing so, I managed to commit a cardinal sin in forecasting -- I conflated the strength of my evidence to the certainty of my prediction. You simply can't do that in the prediction business, because like it or not, you're going to end up off the mark sometimes, for reasons that simply don't fit prior expectations. The Thunder displayed more defensive acumen than they'd displayed at any previous point in their development in last year's conference finals, getting quality contributions from just about everyone on the face of the earth. There were games called so poorly I nearly had an anyerusim. There were shooting slumps, bad plays, and an uncharacteristic lack of confidence from the boys in black and silver. There were problems I simply didn't see coming. Ghosts in the machine, things that always seem to happen.

So yes. I don't apologize for getting it wrong -- I do think it's best practice to actively call out the times you miss the mark, if only to give added transparency to the people who follow your work, but it's not something to apologize for. It's something to call out. What I do apologize for is that tricky, annoying, and misleading overconfidence that led me to be remarkably wrong rather than simply slightly wrong. That's where I strayed, and that's where an apology is necessary and needed. And with all that said? While I don't think Durant has much of a leap left to make, I want to emphasize that he just as easily could. Analysis isn't prescription -- prediction isn't a death knell. Nothing final, nothing crazy. Never put an excess of trust in a single analyst.

And, well. Note to self: I certainly shouldn't do that either.

• • •

For more Player Capsules, please visit the Gothic Ginobili Capsule Directory.

_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 contin_ue with Marcus Camby, Lance Stephenson, and Luke Ridnour.__

• • •

_Follow Marcus Camby on Twitter at __@MarcusCamby23.___

While I've always been at somewhat fond of Marcus Camby's personality and character, I must admit that I wasn't incredibly positive about Camby's game going into the 2012 season. He's something of an enigma, somehow considered the epitome of the all-D no-O big despite (at this point in his career) being no great shakes on either end of the court. Offensively, the story is obvious -- Camby has no low post game of any particular repute, beyond taking advantage of his prolific rebounding to tip in the occasional errant miss. He gets the majority of his offense from midrange jump shots and long two-pointers. That's perfectly fine for players like Dirk who shoot ridiculously well from that range. That's not quite as fine for players like Camby whose shot has gotten less and less reliable as the years trudge onward. He went through a nice little hot streak to end the year in Houston, shooting 44% on the long midrange and 42% from the short midrange -- this made up for the fact that, for the last 3 years, he'd been immensely inconsistent from those ranges, going from highs of 47% to lows in the teens. Impossible to know what to expect from him, which is what makes his offense so aggravating -- you simply have no idea what he's going to give you from night to night.

Defensively? He has a very good reputation. But I'm starting to wonder what he has beyond that, at least now. It's mostly age. In his prime, he was a great weakside shot blocker. Fantastic at it. He was disruptive, effective, and sneaky. And that has a lot of value -- he consistently had sparkling on/off court numbers, defensively, when he was in his prime. If you consider rebounding a part of defense -- which some do not, in a view I'm actually quite sympathetic to -- his always amazing rebounding adds a lot of value on the defensive end as well. But it's worth noting that despite his skills, there was always some degree of separation between the perception and the truth regarding Camby. He was never a fantastic pick and roll defender, and he never really had the ability to defend centers one on one. Complex plays (even in his prime) didn't tend to lend to his defense very well. His defensive player of the year award in 2007 strikes me as a bit odd, in particular; Duncan and Bowen were still in prime form that season, and Shawn Marion had singlehandedly dragged an awful defensive supporting cast in Phoenix to the fringes of a top-10 defense. I realize this is partly revisionist history. I don't know what I would've voted had I been there in the moment. And this is obviously colored by the playoffs, where Bowen and Duncan dismantled that Denver team defensively and Camby proved unable to cover Duncan in any meaningful way. But then again. It's not really a postseason award, it's a regular season award -- and I don't really remember much at all of the 2007 regular season, so I feel I don't really have a place to talk.

Notice, however, that the last paragraph was almost entirely framed in the past tense. That's because -- plain and simple -- he isn't nearly as good anymore. While he had a positive effect in Houston, for the entirety of his Portland tenure, Camby found himself simply unable to exert a strong impact on the court defensively -- those Portland teams played better defense with him off the court than with him on it. His block percentage has plummeted, his steal percentage has fallen off, and in general he's gone from a can't miss prospect to a player that's only situationally useful. He rebounds, yes. He'll block some shots, yes. He'll make a few long jumpers, sure. But the rebounds come at the expense of any remaining ability to get out in transition, the blocks come at the expense of solid__ play defense or positional defense, and the long jumper makes will be so few and far between they won't be worth it. I find it absolutely puzzling that the Knicks gave him $4 million a year, given his recent falloff -- it's not that I dislike him as a person, but I simply don't know what tape they were watching when they decided to pay that sort of a price and give up Josh Harrellson (another situationally useful player, albeit one making a fraction of Camby's salary and with a less storied name). By signing Camby, the Knicks get to continue selling fans on the illusion that this Knicks team is markedly better than last year's version. It's not, but it should be fine in a weaker East. To be totally honest with you, I'm expecting this Knicks team to get about the same Pythagorean record of last year's team, despite not being a better team in any cohesive way. Unless Camby has been sandbagging it the last few years. Because, you know. Late-30s big men with no guarantee of a future contract love sandbagging.

For his personal tidbit, I'd like to bring you back to the year 2010, when Camby was up for what he figured would be his last contract. He stated on multiple occasions he wanted to retire in LA -- he'd moved his entire family there, and had gotten comfortable with the idea of living there all his life. Remember this? Camby was prepared to give the Clippers a hometown discount to retain his services. Their response, to one of the first decent players in the history of the franchise that actually wanted to stay with them? "Screw you, we're going to trade your expiring for other expiring contracts and cash just to show you how little you mean to us." Classic Clippers. Good thing he got picked up by Portland -- there, he was able to experience the fruits of playing for one of the absolute best fanbases in the league. Just watch the response when Camby had during his best game in 3-4 years, and led the Blazers to an upset of the Thunder back in 2010. Beautiful moment. Not so beautiful: after saying he wanted to retire in Portland, they did almost the exact same thing as the Clippers and traded him away for expiring contracts and junk, choosing to let him go in their own firesale not two years later. Which, in turn, forced Camby to relocate his family once again. Gross. Chances are the Knicks will finally let him actually play out the string, but I said that about Portland a year ago, so... who knows, honestly? Here's hoping. He's a good dude.

• • •

_Follow Lance Stephenson on Twitter at __@StephensonLance.___

Lance Stephenson isn't very good at basketball. Let's start with that. He's obviously a great deal better at it than I am, but that's sort of damning with faint praise when you've actually made the NBA. He's a reasonably sized guard who could theoretically play the wing, but I'm not sure how much better he'd be out there. He makes terrible decisions with the basketball, so you'd think "hey! Play him off-ball!" and hope that works. But it... well, doesn't. You kind of need some sort of shot to actually play off-ball in the NBA. And that's something he simply doesn't have. His shot is completely broken, and in three years of pro/semi-pro basketball, he hasn't once shot over 21% from three. And that 21% came against the college three point line. Gross. This seems to be a reasonable reflection of his NBA shooting ability -- for his career, Stephenson is currently scarcely above a 60% free throw shooter. Which certainly backs up the theory that he simply doesn't have an NBA-quality shot, yet. Beyond his utterly busted shot, Stephenson lazes on defense and doesn't have a great grasp on where he should be on the floor, on either end. He tends to be in awful places to collect the ball and take a shot, just sort of lingering in the dreadful long-two location as his teammates beg him to go elsewhere.

For most players I'd highlight the work they're doing to reach their potential. Their efforts at fitting in on the court, figuring out their role, advancing their game. I don't think I can really do that for Stephenson, who has provided quite a bit of evidence that he's not the kind of guy you really need to focus on the positive for. It's one thing to have a rap sheet with drug use, gun ownership, or drunk and disorderly conduct. That's not exactly ideal, but in my view, it's not necessarily grounds for really disliking a person. I've had friends who are drug addicts, friends who are gun nuts, friends who are alcoholics. To some level I can see and fathom those sorts of excesses. But I cannot abide sexual assault. I can't really look at a guy who was arrested in high school for groping girls who didn't want it at his high school, wash out in a short college career, then get arrested once more for throwing his girlfriend down a flight of stairs and bashing her head into the bottom step. Why? Because she didn't answer his calls when she was out on the town. Christ. I've gotten annoyed at girlfriends for doing that but I can't even fathom what kind of mental disconnect would result in someone doing that to a person they're dating. I just don't get it. And for that -- and, in general, for the disturbed air around Mr. Stephenson -- I can't really think positively of Stephenson or give you any degree of hope for his future. Sorry.

Although, well. Okay. You know what's sad? Despite all of that, after this year's playoffs, I can't help but think of the bush league hit Dexter Pittman placed on Stephenson over any of that ill-repute. When I think of Stephenson, the main image I get is that of Pittman's snide wink, the Heat bench barely responding, and Stephenson hacking and gasping in the hardwood. Which in turn makes me sympathetic to Stephenson simply on account of Pittman being such an incredible jerk. So good job, Dexter. For the first time in my life, you've made me actively sympathetic to a violent assaulter. Really appreciated the help, bro.

• • •

_Follow Luke Ridnour by quacking and wearing awful unifo--oh wait, he's not a football player__.___

Ah, Luke Ridnour. The Oregon Duck to end all Oregon Ducks. (Really. One of the best Ducks in recent memory, at least on the hardwood. Led them to an Elite Eight! How wild is that?) Ridnour is a serviceable point guard, especially if your team is really bad. He's unfortunately something of a career backup on any particularly good team, but there's really not much wrong with that. His defense is atrocious, but frankly, point guard defense isn't that harmful to the team defensive context. And his passing is -- if not extraordinary -- extremely solid. He has a great handle, continuously putting up one of the lower turnover rates for his position over the last several years. He's a solid shooter -- nothing incredible, but patently solid. He's getting up there in the years, I suppose, but as long as he doesn't lose his legs on his shot, he can probably play reasonably competent ball well into his mid 30s. If he wants to. After all, we're looking at a guy who's shot 90% from the line over the last 3 years -- I doubt he'll be great in a year or so, but until he loses his touch, he'll still have a modicum of value on the court. Should be a solid backup for Rubio going forward -- and on a reasonably decent contract, too!

I'd now like to spend a short while touching on something I mentioned offhandedly in the Ricky Rubio capsule.

For all this talk about Rubio’s offense, as I said before, the Timberwolves offense was actually worse with Rubio on the floor. If they wanted better offense, they’d play Barea or Ridnour.

Many people have balked at this, and emailed me wondering how that could be true. I wanted to explain why, at least with Ridnour, it definitively is. It's not necessarily that the team around Rubio performs markedly worse with Rubio on the court -- everyone with a set of eyes and a pulse can tell that Rubio's presence helps the players around him get open shots. Indeed, while the on-off court stats show a team that shoots markedly worse with Rubio on the court, the raw stat of surrounding team on-court FG% doesn't quite show the full story for Rubio or Ridnour. What's more elucidating is to show the field goal percentage of all other players on the court while those two are in the game, and when you switch to that sort of view, you find strong evidence to the visually obvious -- that is, Rubio helps his team shoot. With Rubio on the floor, Timberwolves not-named-Rubio shot 44.4% from the floor. With Ridnour on the floor, Timberwolves not-named Ridnour shot a shade over 43% from the floor. Relatively marked difference, and one I think can be primarily attributed to the quality of their passing. (Ed. Note: Yes, I realize Rubio and Ridnour played minutes together. It doesn't impact these broader calculations much because the vast majority of the shots either took were without one another. Also: Ridnour is a pretty bad spot-up shooter, so he personally shot worse than you'd expect with Rubio on the court.)

So -- the question follows -- why, exactly, would the original statement be true? If he improves the shooting around him, why would you bench Rubio if you wanted better offense? Simple. Because the gap between Rubio and Ridnour -- personally -- is more than enough to bridge that. I'd argue that the players around Rubio having better percentages than the players around Ridnour is actually a pretty ridiculous result for Rubio, because not only does it mean he's making primarily the same players look better but also that he's making them look better despite the fact that nobody needs to guard Rubio. Guards can shade off onto the two-man, bigs don't really need to worry about showing hard on a Rubio drive, et cetera. It helps the other team's defensive spacing, so the fact that Rubio's passing still improved the players around him is a fantastic sign for his future going forward, at least as an offense-redefining passing talent. But in the short-term, before Rubio develops his offensive game? There are major problems. He improves a team's defense using his ridiculous defensive capabilities, but offensively, it's absolutely (and unfortunately) true that Rubio's ridiculously awful personal offense is a net drag on his team. Ridnour isn't phenomenal, but he also isn't a nonentity -- rotations have to shade for him, players have to consider his existence, and (most importantly) teammates can pass to him with the expectation he'll can an open shot. None of that is true for Rubio, yet, and as such despite his passing actively improving the players around him he will remain a detriment to the Timberwolves' offense until he develops a personal offensive skillset or two. I think he'll take measures to improve it relatively quickly, making this argument after-the-fact dithering -- but it could remain true for a season or two until his offensive improvements finally kick in.

• • •

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. We had two three-out-of-three guesses last time. Good show to Lester and Stefan. Solid riddles for once -- everyone had decent guesses but not everyone got it. Let's see if I can repeat that performance today.

• Excellent defender. Shocked he was able to be had on the market for that cheap as he was -- Player #199, more than any of their other additions, should make his new team very excited.
• Player #200 once went to a bar and watched National Geographic on a big screen while sipping a soda and tweeting. Seriously. I'm not kidding. Will be a Capsule (Plus).
• Is Player #201 a hall of fame player? Depends on where you're standing. But in my view, the case is stronger than most people think, ESPECIALLY given what he's done on defense these last two years.

Once again, apologies for yesterday's lack of capsules. I've been quite busy this week and I'm about to be even moreso -- as mentioned in the comments yesterday, I'll be in Vegas for the SAS Analytics Conference for much of next week. I'll also be attending (and hopefully writing a fun piece covering) the Clippers/Nuggets preseason game on October 6th with Alex Arnon, one of my favorite fellows. Given this, I figured it'd be good to get a little bit ahead on the Capsule writing -- I don't know how much time I'll really have to write early next week, but I'd really like to keep myself on schedule. That, and I didn't have that Capsule Plus finished yet, heh. Anyway. See you next week, hope everyone has a splendid weekend.

• • •

_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 contin_ue with Danilo Gallinari, Ersan Ilyasova, and Eric Maynor.__

• • •

_Follow Danilo Gallinari on Twitter at __@gallinari8888.___

I don't really get why Mike D'Antoni was quite so high on Gallinari's jumper. I've heard stories that it's far, far better in practice. While that may be true, you'd think that a shooter with a ceiling like that would actually act on it at some point, right? You know, post at least one randomly insane season, a few "oh my god he can't be stopped" games per season, and give people a sense that he's actually a serious threat. He... really hasn't done that, yet. Other than his rookie year, where he played 14 minutes a night in just 28 contests (hardly a large enough sample size to truly assess -- he only took 72 threes that year, after all), he's never been supremely impressive behind the arc. Always one of the most prolific three point shooters in terms of how often he gets behind the arc, but never really one of the most accurate bombers -- this came to a head last season, where Gallo shot a barely-above-PF-average 32% from three on more three pointers than 80% of all power forwards. And if you consider him a small forward -- as he was often used in the Karl lineups -- that's even more below average, and even more troubling. The thing with Gallo -- and I don't mean to make excuses, but this is rather important -- is that three point shooting never happens in a vacuum. He wasn't taking these shots in the cold expanse of space, he was taking them in an actual team concept. And all things considered, when Gallinari got the ball behind the arc last year? He faced far more pressure than he would've on almost any other team.

This is because -- while they were a great offensive team -- last year's Nuggets virtually had no three point talent whatsoever. They finished the year as the 26th overall team in three point percentage, primarily because only two major rotation players could shoot above the position average from three -- Arron Afflalo and Ty Lawson. That's it. That's the comprehensive list. For a teaching example, watch how the Spurs move the ball compared to how the Nuggets move it -- the Spurs rarely take the shot off the first pass, redirecting the ball and allowing it to travel from person to person, as the defense lunges towards each individual shooter. For the Nuggets? They could do that, but it generally led to a far less open shot -- their three point bombers were so awful that the whole effect of an entire defense lunging to cover a shooter simply didn't happen as often or as effectively. Gallo's man knows he's good at threes, so he stayed on Gallo and pressured him. Afflalo's man knows he was the only member of the Nuggets with a remotely wet shot, so he'd simply stay on him -- occasionally, the whole defense-redirection ploy would happen on a pass to Afflalo, but it was never endemic and it never sustained for as long as it does against a team as good at threes as the last-season Spurs, or the mid-aughts Suns, or the late-aughts Magic. As for their only other good three point shooter (Lawson), he was hardly an impact on how open Gallo could get, because most of Gallo's passes came from Lawson -- over one third of Gallo's three point makes came directly off a Lawson pass, and a large proportion of the misses did too.

If Gallo had been on the Spurs, or the Warriors, or the Bulls? I'd imagine he'd have posted significantly better numbers from behind the arc, simply because the surrounding talent would've helped him get open. Same holds true for his time in New York, where they never had quite the three point bombers around him that he could've had in several other NBA locales. (Completely off subject, but worth noting -- this concept also works from the opposite angle. Afflalo's insane shooting numbers look markedly more insane when you consider the duress he was under when he took most of his three point shots.) Beyond that, he has some other talents too -- he isn't merely some three point bomber with no game around the threes. He's great at drawing fouls, moderately decent at keeping his turnovers down, and a solid man-defender. (Very bad on help, but that's because he's oversized and slow for the wing despite being too small to effectively defend big men.) He's an inordinately bad rebounder, an incredibly shaky passer, and really poor when you get within the long midrange. Incredibly below average for his size at the rim, very poor at posting up, and far worse than expected from the true midrange. Which is all rather rough -- his current contract definitely overpays him, unless the Denver front office can put the talent around him that'll get him open enough to convert his threes. Which is all well and good... except for the fact that you don't want to be stuck paying $10-12 million a year to a player whose skillset demands he be surrounded by great shooters if you want him to perform at a remotely above average level from the place where he (theoretically) makes his bread. Alas.

One thing I try to do with these capsules, in a strange and possibly misguided effort, is try to unearth things most people don't know about players. When I can find one or two little facts that most people who read the capsule won't have known going in, that's usually when I feel I've really given the reader some value. In this case, the item you may not know about Gallinari isn't some funny trait or silly habit. You may not realize this, but Gallinari really doesn't take disappointment well, and has a thirst for winning that actually goes beyond that of most everyday NBA folk. My evidence? This almost-heartbreaking article from last year's playoffs, where Gallo describes in some detail the feelings of shame and regret caused by his poor playoff performance, culminating in being unable to sleep and unable to get comfortable in his own skin, immense frustration, and the feeling that he's let down everyone from Denver to Italy. We often ask of our sporting heroes an incomprehensible amount of internal pressure -- we ask them to feel angry at losses, to feel as strongly as a fan each disappointment. We often neglect to take this to its logical end, and realize that we're essentially asking every player to approach games like Gallo approached the playoffs -- that we're asking players to internalize all the outward anger and disappointment we feel as fans of the sport. If most players took what we said at face value, they'd probably sound a lot like Gallo. Given how disappointed and frustrated he sounds... a bit of a sad truth, that.

• • •

_Follow Ersan Ilyasova by erasing your past and embracing the future__.___

I liked watching Ilyasova this year -- he was an unrepentant beast and played like the best player on the Bucks for long stretches of the year. He did it through an odd mix of talents, though -- odd enough that I can't help but wonder exactly how he'll respond to a year (or, rather, the several his new contract spans) with far heightened expectations. We'll start with something that he (actually somewhat shockingly) isn't very good at. Namely, finishing at the rim. While Ilyasova boasts a well-over 7'0" wingspan, he simply doesn't have the strength or height to finish over stronger offensive players, and it generally leads to Ilyasova being at least slightly baffled at the rim. He didn't shoot a number that's immensely poor -- converting on 60% of his at-rim plays, in fact -- but that rate actually ranked in the bottom 25% of NBA big men last season. So, while it was nice that he got to the rim, it was more a function of a naturally efficient player doing his thing than a player who actually found himself above-average at acting there. He fared much better from essentially everywhere else on the court, shooting right at the position average from 3-9 feet and slightly above it from all manner of midrange shots. But his primary value? Making it rain from three, essentially. Ilyasova converted on -- I kid you not -- 45% of his three point shots last year. Despite taking 20% of his shots from three point range! That's crazy! Seriously, legitimately, absurdly crazy. Only three players in the NBA shot nearly as well in a similar amount of shots -- Ray Allen, Stephen Curry, and Danny Green. That's it. That's your comprehensive list.

The thing that makes that even more ridiculous? He'd shown absolutely no proficiency at the three point shot before. Ilyasova had -- prior to this last season -- barely shot 33% from three point range. Part of it was a little-noticed step forward made by Brandon Jennings, who (despite a veritably marginal step forward in his assist rate), did a much better job actually finding the right places to set his teammates up. Part of it is that Ilyasova has always been a decent shooter, and it stands to reason that a shooter like him (before last season, he'd shot almost 80% from the line and regularly was above par from the long midrange) has the potential to get better. I don't think he'll shoot 45% again, but assuming the Bucks keep Jennings around, you'd think he'll retain at least some measure of his three point efficacy. He was also a maven on the glass, posting one of the strongest rebound rates at his position and throwing up more than his fair share of ridiculously dominant performances on the boards. On the downside, while Ilyasova's aforementioned talents deserves accolades galore, his defensive game is more quixotic and lacking -- despite long reach, he doesn't have a lot of strength or defensive talent. He tends to be slow to respond to rotations, a bit of a heavy floater (never quite committing to his man but never quite committing to the help) and his somewhat lacking height for his position does requires a good defensive presence beside him to make him worth playing. Bogut was good at this -- it remains to be seen if Udoh and Ilyasova can effectively coexist as well.

While Ilyasova is known more for his game than any particular personal items of interest, there is one element of Ilyasova's story that I've always found pretty interesting. Namely his age. Or rather, the odd lack of documentation behind it. At this point, it's generally agreed that Ilyasova is nowhere near his listed age (which I went by for the stat-capsule, but figured I'd write about here). He's probably 2 years older, at a minimum. The details are rather sketchy, but it appears to be similar to the Fausto Carmona (aka Roberto Hernandez) drama that embroiled the Indians this past MLB season -- essentially, Carmona was arrested in the Dominican Republic for paying a woman $26,000 to falsify his birth certificate. He was in fact three years older than his "Fausto" birth certificate would have us believe, and as such, everything he'd done under the Carmona name was done under a false identity. According to reports, there was a longstanding case wherein the Uzbek Basketball Federation filed a complaint with FIBA regarding Ilyasova's background, alleging that Ilyasova was actually a man named "Arsen Ilyasova", born in 1984 and who entered Turkey illegally in 2002. FIBA ruled in favor of Turkey, but despite that, many still believe the Uzbek's claims have merit. Count me as one of them.

In the event it is true, and Ilyasova is actually markedly older than his stated age, his new contract might be a little bit tough to swallow in the last year or two. I'm of the opinion it's a bargain deal overall -- getting a player who's obviously starter quality and just shot 45% from three to agree to a $40 million dollar deal with a partially guaranteed last year is a coup for the Bucks, and especially when you look at how often free agents blow off Milwaukee and demand crazy overpayment simply to consider the franchise an option. Paying around 7-8 million a year for Ilyasova's talents is perfectly reasonable, and if he actually is the age he says he is, this could end up being a value deal over it's entire duration. But even if he is actually entering his age 28 or 29 season, the Bucks should get a minimum of 2 solid years out of him, have a medium-sized trade chip for two, and have given themselves the flexibility to waive the contract altogether if he's fallen off by the last year of the deal. Really not a bad move for the Bucks -- even if you don't like Ilyasova, one must note that an above-value contract is ALWAYS a solid trade chip. And if the Bucks actually decide to take the leap and embrace a tanking strategy, the Bucks should be able to swap out Ilyasova for a draft pick or two, and perhaps some young talent to help round out a "lose a ton of games" core.

• • •

_Follow Eric Maynor on Twitter at __@EMaynor3.___

I want you to imagine something. Remember how Derek Fisher shot 37% from behind the arc in last year's playoffs? Imagine that he also knew how to pass the ball. Imagine if Derek Fisher had actually remembered how to pass -- he coupled that three point shooting with a hilariously bad 1.3 assists in 22 minutes a night. Imagine if the opposing team actually had any reason to foul Fisher. Imagine if Fisher had been a positive rebounder from the point guard position, and had actually played anywhere near a level that required the other team to guard him when he was on the floor. Imagine if Fisher -- rather than simply plugging into the offense as a spot-up three point shooter with a proclivity for taking stupid long twos and defending poorly besides -- actually changed the structure and the dynamic of the Oklahoma City offense, with more ball movement and markedly different pace.

So, you know. Imagine if Fisher was Eric Maynor.

Really -- everything I used to describe the theoretical "better Fisher" was something Eric Maynor either has done or has shown the capability to do. One of the things that baffles me about the general consensus that the Lakers are actually going to be better than the Thunder this year is the idea that the Thunder are simply going to stay the course. I don't totally disagree -- I think the Thunder team we'll see in the 2013 will be just about the same. I don't think Durant will improve in any way that moves the scale. I don't see Westbrook improving, though perhaps his public perception will. Harden may have a better playoffs, but overall, the team is going to be virtually the same in the bigger pieces.

But you can't tell me with a straight face that it isn't a good thing to be swapping out 22 playoff minutes a night of a mummified Derek Fisher ambling towards the grave with 22 playoff minutes of a versatile, pace-changing guard with a knack for getting teammates open and improving the team's offense. Simply can't tell me that won't help things. A big knack. Look at the 2011 season -- the OKC offense played REMARKABLY better with Maynor on the floor, something that will likely be slightly less prevalent this year (given OKC's increased offensive efficacy overall) but something that could vastly improve the Thunder's chances against the Heat. And, of course, against the team where Chris Duhon serves as the primary backup at the point. Just saying.

(Also, I'm just going to leave this here -- Maynor was ridiculously awesome in college.)

• • •

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 really need to stop putting team names in the riddles. EVERYONE gets them when I do. Last time, 3/3 from Ethan, Zewo, J, Atori, and Chilai. And in response, NO MENTIONS OF TEAMS TODAY. Take that, readers.

• How, exactly, do people expect him to survive three more years? He's 38. He's been falling off. come on, now.
• "In response to making this 'choke' gesture, I will now get choked myself. Also, I'm a jerk."
• Best duck in the league today! Which really isn't saying much. Or... anything.

Thanks for all the love and support over yesterday's LeBron capsule -- I very much appreciate it. I'm glad most of you found it to be a good read -- I think it stands up nicely to many of the best things I've ever written, and I'm glad others feel the same.

"Can a man who's warm understand a man who's freezing?"

-- Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn

It was a mid-autumn dawn in the year 2009. Light crept, and I had nerves. The test was in three hours and I knew about as much about the Rao-Blackwell theorem as I had when I started the day before. I'd gotten some serious headway in grasping Bayes Estimators, but still felt the pangs of an active gap between the limits of my knowledge and the bare minimum I'd need to ace the test. I'd been studying for what felt like days. I'd done all the homework on time, I'd gone to office hours, I'd read study-sheets when I had free breaks at work. Maybe I wasn't really cut out for this. Maybe I really wasn't smart enough to hack it for the major. I turned the page of my study guide again, and started scribbling calculations. Then I shook to my core.

A cough, a hack, a spasm. I fell out of my chair in a moment of dizzy confusion. Papers scattered. It was a deep, hacking, bellowing cough -- I knew I was sick, and had been for weeks. But there was a certain edge to the cough I hadn't ever experienced before. I drew a white handkerchief from my pocket. Coughed into it a minute. Finally subsided. Sniffling, I made to put the handkerchief into my pocket. Stopped cold when I realized -- the handkerchief was a one-tone Jackson Pollock, signed and notarized with the ghastly sight of coughed-up blood. I stared at it, for a time, wondering the implications.

Then I hid it in my pocket and got back to work. Out of sight, out of mind.

• • •

I nestled into my bed, uneasy. The brightness was on low, the covers draped over me and the laptop -- I didn't want to wake my roommate, but I wanted to sleep as soon as the game finished. It was a constant battle,when I'd want to watch those late-night western conference games on the east coast. The Jazz were missing Deron Williams, and I'd expected I'd be able to turn the game off at halftime. Not so. Behind a classically dull performance by my Cavaliers, the Jazz had climbed back and taken a fourth quarter lead. The Cavs needed this game, but with about three minutes left in the contest, the game looked decided -- the Jazz had taken a 12 point lead and lethargy had wrenched the Cavs by their scruff. It was all just about over.

Except, well. We had LeBron James, you see.

And as any brilliant player of his brood was wont to do, he completely exploded -- within 30 seconds, LeBron had singlehandedly cut that large Jazz lead to 6. A three, a stop, a power-rim move. I bit my lip, rocking back and forth. LeBron threw a feed to Andy -- we got free throws, we made them. LeBron powered to the rim -- a score, free throws. Suddenly that 12 point lead was 2. LeBron drew free throws, again, then he made two straight heat check threes. Cavs lead! Free throw, free throw, free throw -- Cavs lead was six. Less than a minute to go. I sat grinning like an idiot, virtually patting myself on the back. We'd come back. We'd taste victory again.

But then they missed a free throw -- Price made a three. Missed another -- Millsap made two. Missed another -- Korver made two. One point game. The Cavaliers send Zydrunas Ilgauskas -- one of my all-time favorites -- to the line. One of two. Yet again. Your heroes let you down, sometimes. But we were up two, they didn't have Deron, and I needed a win. It was a bad day. Bad week. Bad month. Needed the rush. Had to have it. Korver gets it, but the defense is strong. They pass it around, time runs off. Will we force a violation? Was the game in hand?

"Down to 3, down to 2, down to 1 -- it's Gaines... YES! The Jazz win!"

• • •

Some people hit rock bottom on drugs. Opiates, booze, sex -- fun things. Mine had nothing to do with any of those. Never had drugs -- not once, not even marijuana. I got drunk once in college. A single night. Sex was common, but only with a steady girlfriend, and only prominent my senior year. Addiction? Heck no. I hit rock bottom on something far less fun. I hit it, believe it or not, on work. All my life, I've been prone to overwork. It started when I was young, constantly trying to live up to what I once felt were impossible expectations. I had a short period of lazy teenage snoozing. Then my grandfather died, things began to shift, and I went through a confrontation with my parents they probably don't even remember. And something snapped within me. I started working as though I had no other goals. Working to the point that my parents -- who had spent most of my young life telling me to work harder -- actually told me to chill a bit. Live a little. Calm down.

"Nope."

This only got worse in college, and as I said, hit rock bottom my 2nd year. I was reeling from the death of my beloved grandmother, sad about a ill-timed breakup, and worried that I wasn't good enough to succeed. I was taking an overload schedule in an effort to graduate in three years and save my family a good chunk of change. I was working 12-15 hours a week as a transcriptionist, and trying to get more work on the side to help raise money to placate our finances. I was actually taking a stats class with prerequisites I hadn't taken, trying to grease the wheels on my graduation plans. I was learning Russian. I was volunteering. And everything was difficult -- nothing was easy. I realized about halfway through the semester that I had no chance of graduating early if I failed any of the classes on my roster. I realized that -- unless I really lucked out -- I needed that semester more than I'd ever needed anything in my life.

So, I panicked. I pulled all-nighters like an addict pops pills. One, two, three times a week -- it didn't matter, to me. I just needed to get all of my work done, sometimes twice, and study my brains out like my life depended on it. It didn't, in retrospect. But at the time I had no idea. I stressed myself out and alienated friends and ruined my social life. And then I got sick. First it was coughing, then it was a constant hazy fever, then it was nausea. I started to relapse back into an anorexic state, skipping meals and forgetting to eat. It culminated with coughing blood, blacking out, and (finally) sleeping for a day or two straight over thanksgiving break and getting a bevy of sinus-related OTC medications at a local pharmacy. I took the Mucinex, drank a lot of tea, and went on long runs. Ate natural stuff, tried to focus on getting better. I couldn't go to the doctor, because my plan's doctor was only available from 10-4 and I had class or work during that whole duration, every single week. So I kept it a secret and hoped I hadn't ruined my body too much. I wanted to recover, and with more sleep and less stress, I finally did. The last day I coughed blood was in early December -- it stopped soon thereafter, and I haven't since.

• • •

I took solace in basketball. I was never a huge fan of any sports in my youth, preferring my father's general dismissal of sports to my mother's active fandom. Sure, I had my favorites -- on the playground at school I'd always pretend to be Tim Duncan or David Robinson when we were playing ball, and I thought them the best of all possible sports stars. A nice little SI for Kids feature on the two of them cemented all that. But other than a few scattered games, there weren't a ton of things I remember watching in high school, or my youth. That changed significantly in college, as I started to play a little more and take a more active interest in the two teams I loved -- the Spurs for Duncan's brilliance, and the Cavs in memory of my Cleveland-rooted grandfather.

Following the 2009 Cavaliers from the start of the regular season to their eventual fall in the playoffs was an experience I'll never forget. It brought me into the game, made me want to learn the ropes and analyze it from a smarter perspective. I started watching basketball almost religiously, tons of games every night and (on breaks and the offseason) downloading classics to bulk up my knowledge of the things I hadn't seen. I watched almost every game of each Spurs championship, I watched key games in LeBron's development from phenom to epoch, I watched the best games of the 90s and 80s. Everything I could possibly stomach. I saw Jordan, Dirk, Duncan and more. I grew to love the game, to know its intricacies, and to appreciate the subtle beauty in a possession's span. And more than that, I grew to appreciate and enjoy the brilliance of LeBron's game, and his immortal challenge.

I'll avoid the worn-out Cleveland tropes -- they're stodgy and unnecessary. What LeBron was attempting to do on those final Cavaliers teams was still otherworldly. He and the front office constructed some of the most well-built teams of the last decade, piecing together a wealth of minor talents and lower lights in a situation that perfectly leveraged every facet of each player's talent. Not a cog in the Cleveland machine lacked its place. And at the center, like Iron-Man's arc reactor, LeBron buzzed and whirred and made the machine run like clockwork. Dominating, ever-ticking clockwork. LeBron wasn't simply questing for a title, he was questing for a title in the manner of Duncan in 2003, or Dirk in 2011. He quested to become the primary catalyst in a way few ever imagine. Fame, fortune, glory abound, but along with it a sense of personal ownership and trust in his own power. He clearly didn't believe he was ONLY the greatest player in the league -- he felt he had the ability to transcend that, and become one of the greatest players of all time.

I related to and understood this general idea about his game. I felt a personal kinship with LeBron and felt that his quest to be not only the best player in the game but one of the historical greats was a greater reflection of the things I wanted to do. I didn't want to simply survive -- I wanted to thrive. I wanted to be brilliant, successful, celebrated. I wanted to be so good at what I did that people would want to be me. I wanted to wake up in the morning and feel like I'd done well enough, that I'd succeeded. I've spent my life with inordinately high personal expectations, and in their constant disappointment, I'd simply taken to working harder and harder in pursuit of impossible goals. I felt LeBron had the same ideals, goals, and general principles that I did. And as the 2010 Cavaliers hit their apex, I was hitting the worst points of my health-threatening overwork and my untreated depression. The Cavs kept me going. I had to keep watching, keep them close.

And just as I had unrealistic personal expectations, my fandom turned to unrealistic sports expectations -- it wasn't simply that the Cavs had a chance to win the title, it was that they had to win the title. I'd put so much of myself into my fandom, and I needed LeBron's success to validate my retrospectively insane and self-harmful efforts. And then, well. You know how that went. The 2010 Cavaliers collapsed within themselves, LeBron handled free agency like a fool, and finally left us in the skid. He left, my dear Zydrunas departed, and much like my work had left me with fewer friends than I'd had a year before, my team had left me without my heroes. Left to take the easy way out, the road oft-travelled. I had projected too much. LeBron James didn't want to be like me, he didn't want to succeed on his own terms -- he'd only found himself in that position by chance and coincidence. The criticisms and jeering rang true. The hero was a lie in a world of blithe untruths, and I sat in the dust of a dynasty deferred, mulling escape from the quicksand that had slowly consumed me.

"Are you the best player in the game, LeBron?"

"I mean, I've thought that for a long time."

• • •

In 2011, I graduated with my Bachelors. That last day -- with the gowns, the hats, the speeches -- was simply crazy. There was the graduation ceremony, where I actually fell asleep on an ex's shoulder and completely missed the speech. There was the stat department brunch, where we drank mimosas and celebrated our accomplishments. I was the first three-year grad in department history, as it turned out. People applauded as the department chair shared a short appreciation for each and every member of our small and lovable graduating class, and then we went our separate ways. My girlfriend went back to UNC, my parents went back to the hotel, and I rushed to finish packing -- I was moving out the next day. I threw my vinyls in a bin, ripped down my Duncan posters, loosely boxed my notes. Rushed, all of it.

Then, digging through the confines of my dorm closet, I came across something I thought I'd thrown away. It was a dusty old handkerchief, shoved behind a box, spotted with dried up blood. It really, really wasn't supposed to be there. I thought I'd thrown it and the rest of the bloody things out a long time ago -- after so long, I imagined the thing still had to be covered in nasty bacteria. I grabbed a towel I didn't care for, used it to pick the thing up, and chucked it as well as the towel in the bathroom trash can. Then I sat down at my desk and paused a second. It hit me.

College was over. I'd survived.

I wouldn't really put it any other way -- I didn't thrive, per se. My grades were mediocre at best, my social life was minimal, the numerous jobs I took were little more than tedium. Sure. I'd made some friends, I'd made some enemies, but generally I didn't feel like I'd met a ton of people who'd really care to keep in touch with me. Sure, I'd come back to see Sarah now and again. I'd die if I didn't keep in touch with Andrew and Hazal. Probably would text Eddie something incomprehensible at least once a month, onwards into the infinite. But what had I really gained? Circles under my eyes that'd never quite pass? Trade knowledge that would immediately be made useless by the specifications of whatever job I'd go to next? A sleeping disorder, depression, an affinity for sports? The echoes of my too-high expectations taunted me, and made me look forward to the uncertain future. But I shook them silent, continued packing, and left those awful years behind me. After all. My future looked a bit shaky, but it'd be what I would make of it. At least I'd succeeded in that much.

• • •

LeBron James has won a title. Few expect this to be the only ring LeBron will win. They expect more, and consider this a sub-summit on the constant climb towards a brilliant legacy yet to be written. But he's thrown the first-time monkey off his back, and in some ways, he did it exactly as he would've in Cleveland. Dwyane Wade had fallen off, just enough, and Chris Bosh was out or injured for almost the entirety of the playoffs. Where the late-period Cavaliers were an Iron Man suit with James as the arc reactor and precious little without him, the 2012 Heat were actually just about the same -- with LeBron off the court in the playoffs, the Heat were outscored by 12 points per 100 possessions. With LeBron on the court, they dominated opponents by 11 points per 100 possessions. Without LeBron, the 2012 Heat may not have won a single round -- not even against the hapless Knicks. Just like his cast in Cleveland.

In my case? There aren't really "titles" you can win in everyday life, so I'm not exactly there. But I do feel I've reached my own sort of personal sub-summit. I'm not at the top, and I certainly have a ways to climb. Without a doubt. But I've reached a nice level of complacency. I work long hours for a lucrative job I enjoy, and while my hobbies are extremely time consuming, I've succeeded in almost all of them and reached a steady level with my life as a whole. I make more money at my job than I ever dreamed I would. Gothic Ginobili has found a level of success I'd never imagined. I have flexibility, loved ones, and -- above all -- a comfort I could scarcely have dreamed of in my college experience. The man who coughed blood is now the man who sleeps in on weekends and looks to buy a house. The dark circles under my eyes are fading, the skeletal frame of a man self-starved becoming healthy once more. A smile can be seen, if you look hard enough. Depression still hits, at times, but I've worked through so much and continue to get better. Finally I can see a future. I can see the path to contentment, happiness, and things I'd never thought I'd taste when I found myself at my low of lows.

Speaking of things I never thought I'd say -- I can't really hate LeBron James anymore. I doubt I'll ever like him again, or root for his success. But for me, the hate faded well before he won his title. And in truth, it didn't come back when he hoisted the trophy. I think I've figured out why. Before, I looked at his flight and saw a man fleeing the challenge I was stuck in. I saw a personal hero abandon my team and city and insult our capabilities. Now? I see a man who fled one challenge only to find one just as difficult elsewhere, a man who still couldn't quite escape his demons without a hell of a lot more work. We both reached our rock bottom, we both languished and toiled, and we've -- in some sense -- both arrived. We're at a better spot, now, both at a certain level of triumph with so much of the mountain left to climb. When he left Cleveland, I was in a ditch. A low gutter. But we meet now at an intermediate step in our development, a bit older and a bit wiser. We are, for this precious moment, at equal footing. Neither freezing, both warm. Not as friends, not as allies, not as enemies. Just as people, ever-striving. So we sit, relaxing in the interim. I will root against him, later, and he will forget I exist. But in this moment, we stop. Consider. We have a drink. We sup.

Because the summit beckons, we trudge forward. And we move on, as comfort affords the privilege.

• • •

For more Player Capsules, please visit the Gothic Ginobili Capsule Directory.

_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 contin_ue with Carl Landry, LeBron James, and Marreese Speights.__

• • •

_Follow Carl Landry on Twitter at __@CarlLandry24.___

While he's not a flashy player, no one can impugn Landry's skill -- what he does, he does well. And he does it with a hilarious disregard for his size. Seriously -- he's an NBA big man that stands around 6'7" or 6'8" -- he's listed as 6'9", but visually, there's absolutely no way he's actually that tall. Despite the genuine size disadvantage, Landry has perfected the use of angles and movement to become an incredible paint scorer. He's consistently among the absolute best at-rim finishers in the league (69% last year!), and his 3-9 foot post-up game is (surprisingly) not bad at all -- he shoots well above position average from that range. Despite, again, his size. People often get on his case for taking too many jumpers, but I'm not sure that's entirely fair. While Landry does take more jumpers than most big men, he's also more efficient with them -- his 42% from the true midrange was in the top 25% of all power forwards last year, and his free throw form (a scintillating 80%) indicates his shooting is actually just that good. And while he's awful from the long two and a nonentity from three, he actually takes fewer long twos than 50% of his PF brethren, in terms of the percentage of his shots from that range. He seems to have a decent understanding of what works and what doesn't for him, offensively. And when something works for Landry on the offensive end, it really works.

Unfortunately, the game is played on two ends, and Landry's size makes him a pretty awful defensive player. At no point in 2012 did Landry find a consistent place in Monty Williams' rotations, and from the looks of it, the reasons were primarily on his lacking grasp of and ability to capitalize on the Hornets' defensive schemes. Often I'd cry foul and say the coach needs to find better ways to utilize enigmatic talents like Landry, but in this case, I don't think I can -- Landry simply looked lost on the defensive end, lost in a system that required at least some modicum of size to complete the rotation and close the circuit. When Landry was on the court, he actually improved the Hornets' offense by a full two points per 100 possessions -- the problem was, he gave exactly that back on the defensive end, meaning they were virtually the same team with him as without him.His synergy numbers are rough, his adjusted plus/minus looks even worse than the raw on/off numbers, and visually you always get the sense with Landry that he's simply far too over-matched size-wise to compete on the defensive end. It's sad, although honestly not entirely unexpected. You can be a good defender as an undersized guard -- as an undersized big, you need to have an absolutely ridiculous grasp of steals and positioning to be even a slight positive on the defensive end, and that's something you don't tend to have if you weren't naturally blessed with it.

Yesterday, commenter Mike noted something about Landry that I thought was interesting -- he said that Landry's generally so-so performance after his first few years was a function of age and exhaustion, as Landry was both older than the average rookie and had put on more minutes in college than most rookies. Curious to test that, I looked up Landry's minutes played in college. While I couldn't find any data on his minutes played at Alcorn State, I did find his minutes at Purdue -- he played 1915 minutes over 3 seasons, with his highest season by far being his senior year at 1035. Basketball Reference's college search engine only goes back to the 2010 season, but in the last 3 seasons, there have been (kind of surprisingly, actually) a total of 97 seasons where a college player played more minutes than Landry's highest minutes total season. It looks like roughly one third of these players made the NBA, as well. Unless he played 1000-2000 minutes in a single season at Alcorn State, he's probably got a relatively comparable college minutes total to most NBA players -- a tiny bit above average, most likely, but overall not a giant leap from the norm. He turned 29 eight days ago, so in terms of calendar age, it's true that he's above the norm. But there's no wealth of evidence pointing to Landry suffering a far-too-high minutes total. I'm far more sympathetic to Mike's point that Landry's ACL injuries have sapped his game from the strong promise he showed in Houston as a rookie and a sophomore -- Landry's suffered more than his fair share of those, and really shouldn't be held accountable for that. It's certainly not his playing style or anything endemic to Landry's game that caused them.

Maybe it's the cramped hotel rooms. We'll call it that.

• • •

_Follow LeBron James on Twitter at __@KingJames.___

I don't really know how to introduce this capsule. I suppose I'll describe my thought process. LeBron James is all at once responsible for some of my most beloved and my most painful sports memories. As a Cleveland fan (who, yes, enjoys the Spurs as well), I found myself enthralled by James in Cleveland, and as many did, I thought him a man who represented my goals and ideals. I thought him a hero, an immortal, an icon. He left, and I lost all respect for him. I began to question the things I saw, the dominance I enjoyed, the sincerity of his time with the Cavaliers. I rooted for the Heat to fall. I rooted for LeBron to fail. I rooted for comeuppance, for karma, for anything.

And then, well, it happened. Carlisle's schemes were too good, LeBron was too timid, his legs too tired. The Heat fell, LeBron gasped for breath, and I didn't really know what to do. It was what I wanted, theoretically. But I didn't like the Mavs, either, and I suddenly realized I didn't really care. Not much. Revenge is not an emotion I'm usually partial to, and while I found the Cavaliers' upset of the Heat late in the 2011 season one of the greatest games I've ever had the pleasure of watching, I couldn't really rationalize getting myself excited and happy to see the Heat lose. It was the same thing this past year -- I watched exactly two games of the 2012 finals, and derived no enjoyment out of either. Yes, the Thunder found themselves outmatched. I suppose my vengeance for the Western Conference Finals should have been quelled. It wasn't, though. I didn't care if the Heat beat the Thunder. I wanted the Spurs to beat the Thunder. I didn't care if the Mavs beat the Heat. I wanted the Cavs to beat the Heat. Et cetera, et cetera.

I know people who still despise him. I know people who can't stand him. And I know others who belittle and insult those people, because they think it petty. That's too harsh, in my view. Just because some Cavs fans -- like myself -- have gotten "past" it to the point that they don't actively despise him doesn't mean every Cavs fan should be the same. I don't think I'll ever really LIKE LeBron again, and I admit, I haven't watched a single LeBron game with the Heat that I've actually been able to enjoy. It still stings. But one of the beautiful things about sports fandom is that everything is different. No two fans are the same, no two ways of approaching the game are the same. Just because I don't despise him doesn't mean another Cavs fan isn't entitled to his own anger. What I share is my personal story, not that of anyone else. It's mine and mine alone. And that's the way it should be.

Today, I wrote about LeBron James. I opened up about myself. I relived some strong feelings.

And, at last, I closed the book.

To read more on LeBron James, read today's Player Capsule (Plus).

• • •

_Follow Marreese Speights on Twitter at __@Mospeights16.___

Not totally sure what to say about Speights. I suppose I'll start with his skills. First, he's got a GREAT knack for rebounding on the defensive end. He's never played enough minutes for it to be totally noticeable, but his defensive rebounding percentage has hovered around 20% for three years in a row, which is fantastic, and generally ends up being in the top 30 or so leaguewide. For a nice bench big man, you could do far worse than rebounding like that. He couples that with a reasonably decent turnover rate despite a reasonably high usage percentage, which is a nice little wrinkle. Last season he showed another useful and underrated talent: an increasing ability to keep himself in the game. That is to say, he drastically cut down his foul rate, and barely found himself in foul trouble all year. For a team that was lacking in depth in the frontcourt for most of the season after the Arthur and Randolph injuries, this was essentially invaluable. These are all good traits to have, and when you combine that with the solid durability he's shown in the last two years, you have a player most would be surprised is making less than $5 million over the next two years.

Well, you might be surprised. Until you watched him. While Speights has a lot of talent and athletic potential, when actualized, his performance on the offensive end is pretty lacking. He's consistently found himself among the bottom 25% of bigs in at-rim percentage, which reflects a general unwillingness to either go hard to the rim or learn some decent post moves. His offensive numbers are actually extremely weird for a big man -- last season, for instance, Speights shot a blistering 46.6% on 16-23 foot two point shots -- which was among the highest totals in the entire league, let alone for just big men. He also took over a third of his shots from that location, which meant that he well understood his offensive talents. As well, he found himself among the top 25% of big men in his free throw percentage, making a patently decent 77% of his shots at the line with a solid free throw rate. For a big man who shows that kind of proficiency at shooting, you have to wonder why he's never tried to develop a three point game -- he took just 3 threes last season, and while he missed them all, Speights was so abysmal from every area of the floor beyond the line and the long two that you start to wonder if he actually needs to develop that shot to keep his minutes up. After all -- his defense is awful.

Now, look. A lot of very smart analysts thought that Speights showed defensive improvement in Memphis last season. Count me as one of the folks who disagrees. I admit, he looked a tad better, but I think that's more a function of who he played with. In 2011, he spent only 155 of his 558 minutes on the court with Elton Brand, the Sixers' best defensive big man. The vast majority of his 733 minutes in 2011 were played in lineups featuring both Speights and Thaddeus Young, which was (in retrospect) a really awful idea. Neither of them are supremely amazing defensive players, especially when playing out of position at center. When you combine the two of them, you're left lacking a rim protector and with a defense that at least visually looks like one of the worst you can possibly put together. In Memphis, Lionel Hollins finally corrected this ridiculous lineup decision by letting Speights play most of his minutes (905/1345) placed next to Marc Gasol, one of the best defensive big man in the game today. Of course he's going to look better -- it doesn't mean his personal defense has actually actively improved, it simply means that he's not being mishandled and poorly utilized. Often, when a player is said to have made strides on the defensive end, the strides are less a result of the player actually playing better and more a function of a team realizing they've been misusing him for years, or better yet, a team trading him elsewhere.

Off the court, Speights seems like a fun guy. His twitter feed is pretty entertaining, and he's known for getting into random beefs with random people. (Ed. Note: I originally typed "rondom" instead of random. Just thought you guys should know.) One of the more amusing examples of this comes from the good folks over at Liberty Ballers, where writer Jordan Sams was able to interview Speights and ended up awkwardly addressing a twitter beef in what sounds like one of the silliest interview-starting conversations in the world. The interview gets into some interesting things, like Speights' outside hobbies (bowling, college football video games, laughing), which Sixer is the best at picking up the ladies (he refuses to say), which Sixer is the funniest (Evan Turner, which I simply cannot fathom), and plays word association with the names of his Sixer teammates (for my money, the best one is when Speights goes completely silent at mention of Spencer Hawes. Because that's what I do at any mention of Spencer Hawes.) Also: he shares his #1 nap of all time, which is some seriously apt investigative journalism on the part of Sams. It's a solid interview. Go check it out. Otherwise, follow him on Twitter and bask in the marvel of his curious offensive game, even more curious defense, and funny personality.

• • •

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. Got a few 3/3s yesterday -- Mike, Mike L, Chilai, and Geezer all got them right. Good job.

• I think I can safely say that Mike D was spewing B.S. when he said this guy was the best shooter he's ever seen. Still solid, tho.
• Sort of a fluky season -- I don't think he's ACTUALLY that good. If so, though, Bucks got a crazy good deal.
• Ever wondered how the Thunder can be a better team next year, outside of youth? Look no further than Player #195.

Have a good day.

_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 contin_ue with DeMarre Carroll, Al-Farouq Aminu, and Ekpe Udoh.__

• • •

_Follow DeMarre Carroll on Twitter at __@DeMarreCarroll1.___

I distinctly remember enjoying DeMarre Carroll's infectious, energetic, frenetic play on those late-aughts Missouri teams. I didn't think he'd be a splendid NBA prospect, but I figured him good enough. The one question I had about him was his shot. I never saw a game where it looked particularly on, and it gave me the impression he played like more of a big than a wing. Given his size, that's dangerous -- he's certainly not an NBA-caliber big man on size or width alone, and while he was a solid rebounder in college, he wasn't overwhelming. So you had a player who, like many others, was blessed with an endless motor, a knack for hustle, and a lack of a shot. Clearly one of the better players at his game on the earth, but also clearly not a splendid fit for the best league on the planet. Probably better overseas, where he could actually play as a big man. Players surprise you, sometimes. But often they don't, and what you see heading into their career is exactly what you get on the back-end.

Unfortunately for Carroll, that's how he's been so far. Extremely predictable. He struggles with a non-obvious position, the skillset of a four in the body of a three. Near the end of last season, he started to make a few threes -- but I mean it when I say they were sparse. Carroll only took 19 threes on the year. He made 7. In a vacuum, it's a great percentage, but one of those where the sample size is so small it's hard to put a wealth of confidence into it. Had Carroll made one more three, he would've gone from 37% to 42% -- among the best in the league. Had he made one fewer, he would've gone from 37% to 31% -- ridiculously below average. Much like Darius Morris, when people point to Carroll's shooting as an awesome sign, I'm not really sure what to say. It's certainly possible that the brief outburst was his true mean, but it's exceedingly unlikely. Especially given that over his career he's been a dismal shooter on anything beyond the basket area -- last year, in fact, he went 19-0f-54 from directly outside the rim to the three point line. Which is atrocious. He's made his free throws on an NBA level, but he was a career 60% free throw shooter at Mizzou, so I have trouble buying that as his true mean either.

There's clearly some value here. One thing that absolutely can't be said enough is that Carroll has a ton of value in the kinds of trap-and-press lineups coaches use at the end of games to try and force turnovers. He's not a wide player, but he is a quick and feisty one, and he's effective at cutting off running angles when you specifically assign him to dog the other player and keep them from crossing halfcourt. He works hard to disrupt possessions and he does his job well. That's an NBA-level skill, even if it's a bit undervalued in the league today. He's the kind of player who would've been excellent on a Rick Pitino-styled team, constantly pushing the envelope to try and steal the ball throughout the course of a game. Few NBA coaches play like that, but in that sort of a college system, Carroll could be a value add. Still, without a developed set-foot three point shot and the explicit tamping down of his empty offensive possessions, Carroll is going to have a lot of trouble finding minutes on ANY team, let alone a team as solid and deep as next year's Jazz. It's rough out there in the fringes. But his attitude seems good going into the year, and he seems to be working hard. When you're in his position, it's tough to do all that much else. Good on him for putting in the work, though.

• • •

_Follow Al-Farouq Aminu on Twitter at __@farouq1.___

Remember last offseason, when the Clippers and the Hornets were enthralled in high-intensity trade talks for Chris Paul? Seems like a decade ago, but bear with me. Remember how the two teams had fought it out to finally come to a tentative agreement, but the news was intensely convinced that the deal had come down to two hilariously minor players? That is to say, Eric Bledsoe and Al-Farouq Aminu. The Hornets, it was said, wanted Bledsoe. The Clippers wanted Bledsoe. Neither team much wanted Aminu. The back and forth went on and on, until finally, the Hornets relented and the deal was done. Many laughed, wondering why on Earth the Clippers wanted Bledsoe and noted (rather aptly) that on a team with Chris Paul, Bledsoe wouldn't see nearly the floor time he'd need to be effective. They also noted that the difference between the two players was barely worth arguing over, and how it was a weird thing to even theoretically mess up a trade involving a piece as big as Paul.

Well, while I'm not generally one to give the Clips a surfeit of credit, former Clippers GM Neil Olshey called this one exactly right. While the naysayers had a few excellent points (Aminu would've seen far more court time on last year's Clippers than Bledsoe did, and would probably still see more court time on next year's Clippers than Bledsoe will), in terms of assessing the pure talent of his pieces he did a good job in keeping the better asset. It's true -- Bledsoe's play in last year's playoffs is basically the only reason I'm saying this. But it wasn't exactly a minuscule sample, as the Clippers made the 2nd round and (at 11 games) played exactly half the games an average champion plays in a postseason. And Bledsoe displayed a lot of (frankly) incredibly valuable skills that should help him find a lot more value going forward than most people expected, even if the Clippers' roster isn't particularly well-oriented to help him find it. He's an infinitely better trade asset than Aminu, and perhaps better yet, he allows the Clippers to build contingency plans in the event Paul departs.

This isn't to say they wouldn't be worse for the wear without Paul. They clearly would be. But they wouldn't be rudderless -- when you have a star talent like Griffin locked up long-term, Bledsoe's ability to act as "Paul insurance" allows the Clippers to be confident they won't completely waste years of Griffin's prime on dismal, dismal teams (much like the Blazers are regrettably doing with LaMarcus Aldridge at this very moment). Which Aminu couldn't have necessarily done. Although all this isn't to say Aminu is necessarily chopped liver -- he could yet develop into an NBA-caliber starter. He just, well, hasn't. His offensive game is prokaryotic even at its best -- unorganized, unrefined, and lacking the general offensive cleverness that typifies players with the potential to grow to be much better. His rebounding for his position is downright excellent, but that's mostly because (much like our previous player, Demarre Carroll) he's stuck in between positions. He'd be better off playing as a large forward, but at 6'9" and a hyper-athletic but thin-type frame, he's much better suited to defensively match with NBA wing players.

Still. There's some promise in these here hills. One of Aminu's biggest problems, to this point in his career, is that of aggression -- or, more aptly, a lack thereof. He plays tentatively on both offense and defense, approaching each shot like a father would have a child approach crossing the street. Look both ways, signal what you're doing, hoist up and heave. It's excellent practice for crossing the street. It's also terrible practice for shooting a basketball, as it gives defenders time to close off your airspace and get in your grill. If Aminu can simply tamp down the amount of time it takes him to throw up his shots, I'd imagine you could add a few percentage points from every jump-shot range. His turnover problem is a bit tougher -- I'm not really sure how Aminu improves his ball control from here, although he really needs to. Turnover percentages at just under 20% are bad no matter who you are, but they're especially gross when you aren't at all supposed to be your team's primary ballhandler. The one thing that should soothe Hornets fans a tad is Aminu's work ethic -- it's extremely high, from all reports, and under Monty's tutelage he does seem to be turning into a decent defender. Going forward, if he can tamp down on his hesitation in his shots and stop pretending he has the ability to dribble, he should be able to carve out a role as a legitimate starter. Lord knows players with his length, work ethic, and curious resemblance to Fat Albert characters don't come around every day!

• • •

_Follow Ekpe Udoh on Twitter at __@EkpeUdoh.___

Ekpe Udoh is an interesting case of a player whose box score stats tell you virtually nothing about his game. To wit, if you were simply looking at Udoh's box scores, you'd uncover tales of a player who has no perceivable offensive game, shoots atrocious marks from just about every range on the floor (his roughly 60% career mark at the rim is simply woeful, and ranks in the bottom 25% of PF/C players in today's league) and confines many of his shots to an utterly busted 3-9 foot post-up game. He's quite a poor rebounder, regularly ranking as one of the absolute worst per-possession rebounders for his position. And he can't stay on the floor extremely well, either -- at a career mark of roughly 5 fouls per 36 minutes, he spends much of each game in foul trouble. Problems galore. If you looked at his box score stats alone, you'd think he was among the worst players in the league.

Here's the thing. He's not. The game is played beyond a simple box score, and that's where Udoh finds his value. On the defensive end, there's virtually nothing Udoh can't do -- there are a scarce few defenders who provide essentially a system-in-a-box, improving even barely-decent players to a level of solid defense far above expectations. Udoh, on his good nights, can be one of those. How does he do it? Simple. Incredible and outright ridiculous help defense, of course! He's something of the polar opposite to Andrew Bogut, in a silly way. Bogut was a great, great center when he was healthy with Milwaukee. But he was great in extremely obvious ways -- he controlled the boards with aplomb, finished strong at the rim, and had an old school heaviness to his game. Udoh? He doesn't control the boards -- at best, he holds his own on them. He doesn't finish strong -- to call him tentative at the rim is to understate it. And heaviness? Psh. Ekpe Udoh moves like water on the court, hyper-mobile with an alarming fluidity and quickness on the defensive end.

So, again. He's the exact opposite of Andrew Bogut. Where Bogut wouldn't really mess with his man, preferring to just reach over him and rip down the rebound over his head, Udoh simply slithers his way under the other team's primary rebounder and drags them down into the murky abyss, requiring the opposing team's worse rebounders try to wrangle the possession -- a prospect that usually fails. Udoh sets these strange, fluid screens that often seem to be made of spiderweb -- even the quickest players get tied up and stopped, mucking up the opposing offense and letting everyone on his team play closer to their man. Even though he's somewhat offensively lacking, he somehow manages to drag his defender all over the court, relying on excellent instincts and his insane mobility to play mind-games with the offensive players guarding him, forcing them to expend a ton of energy defending a player with almost no legitimate offensive skills. The ways he impacts a game are hardly obvious, but they're ever-present, and they make you wonder how good he'd look if he had, say, a semblance of an offensive game. Or better rebounding instincts himself. Or passing talent. Or... well, you get the picture.

So that's your boy Friday. (Fun fact: that's actually true, his middle name is seriously Friday -- among the better middle names in the entire league, I think.) He's a bit of a riddle wrapped in a mystery -- many wonder (legitimately) how good a player with his tepid stats could actually be. I myself am completely in-between. I see the incredible on/off court stats, understand (mostly) why they happen, and I see some degree of promise in his offensive game, if only just. I see the hard work he puts in on the floor every single possession. But I also look at Ian Segovia's paean and wonder if we aren't all getting a bit too wrapped up in his intangibles and his (admittedly hilarious) humor -- this is a player who's getting defensive players to chase him around the floor with some of the worst offensive numbers at his position in the league. If teams ever actually started to scout him (or if he was ever on a team that other teams felt was good enough it required scouting), that would essentially stop entirely, and there goes a big part of his value. He works hard, and he's overcome a general lack of NBA-level talent thus far -- but that certainly doesn't mean he never needs to develop these talents, nor does it mean that he'll be able to do this forever. It means he's staved off the tendrils of the box score for a year or two -- eventually, he will need to develop some moves, some rebounding, or some discernible box-score talent. Because if not, "great on/off court numbers on terrible teams that nobody bothers to scout" may be the sum total of his resume in the future.

• • •

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. Lots of 2/3 votes, but nobody figured out that I was talking Bledsoe vs Aminu. Good job to comment-folk Mike and Atori.

• Don't really know how he fell so far from his Houston highs. Still, he rebounded last year, and should be a serviceable bench friend for the 'Dubs.
• Player #191 is pretty good at the game of basketball. Maybe. Will be a Capsule (Plus).
• Good rebounder, awful defender. Some think Player #192 made progress on that end last season. Me, I think it was just Gasol.

See you tomorrow. And if you missed it, check out this morning's halfway retrospective!

Hey, all! Aaron here. Last Friday, I arrived at the hard-won halfway point for my Player Capsule series. I've officially got more capsules behind me than there are ahead of me. In part as a celebration, in part as a general update, I decided to compile some statistics on the capsules thus far, the capsules yet to go, and the capsules people consider their favorites. Let's jump in.

• • •

I. CONCRETE PROOF THAT AARON MCGUIRE HATES THE NETS

This chart shows the players I've written and the players I've yet to write, in a stacked bar chart. The x-axis -- teams in question -- are ordered by the number of players a team has among the total 370. Brooklyn, for instance, has 9 players in the 370. They tie with 4 teams for the lowest number of players covered on any particular team. Five teams -- Detroit, Los Angeles, Miami, Minnesota, New York, and San Antonio -- are getting coverage of 14 players, and they're tied with the most. Fear not, Nets fans -- because the previous 186 capsules somehow only included two members of your team, there are still 7 members of the Brooklyn Nets to go.

• • •

II. THESE WERE THE CAPSULES THAT WERE

Here are some stats regarding the 186 capsules completed.

• There were 158,200 words among all capsules posted here, and 21,734 words in the 11 capsule (plus) posts. This translates to a total of 179,934 words in the first 186 capsules -- or, 967 words per capsule. With 15 players a week, that translates to an average of 14,510 words per week. If you've actually been reading all these, you have my sympathies. That's a lot of words!

• This project began on Friday July 6th, 2012. It is now 87 days later, on Monday October 3rd. In this timeframe, only thrice have I managed to put up fewer than 15 players in a single week. Upon realizing this, I will now consider this a victory.

• Of the players covered thus far, 13.9% have been centers, 44.2% have been forwards, and 41.9% have been guards. The centers who have gone thus far collectively shot 2.7% from three point range. A supremely important fact, I say. Of all these folks, there have been 11 posts for players that garnered a Capsule (Plus) -- one center, four forwards, six guards.

• • •

III. THESE ARE THE CAPSULES THAT WILL BE

Here are some stats regarding the 184 capsules yet to come.

• While the capsules I've finished garnered an average #NBARank of 195.6, the capsules yet to come have an average #NBARank of 194.7. If anyone wanted proof that I drew from a legitimately random distribution when I picked the order for these capsules, well, there you have it.

• Assuming no delays, the current schedule has me finishing the project smack dab on Christmas Eve. My current goal is to finish before 2013, so that seems like a good aiming point.

• Of the players left, 51.1% of them are forwards. 8.7% are centers, and 40.2% are guards. Of the currently planned out Capsule (Plus) posts left, 4 are forwards, 7 are guards, and none are centers. Subject to change, of course, as I write posts and get ideas for others.

• • •

IV. THESE ARE THE CAPSULES THAT DON'T SUCK

As part of this retrospective, I collected votes from 25 friends and readers to determine their favorite capsules. Most people highlighted a few of the 11 Plus posts along with one or two of their individual favorites. As per the votes, here are the three cream-of-the-crop selections of the best Capsule Plus features:

• Tim Duncan, Salt of the Earth (7 votes; 26%)
• The Flickering Candle of Stephen John Nash (6 votes; 24%)
• Defining a Hero with Andre Miller (4 votes; 16%)

There were quite a few people who picked one of the normal everyday capsules, as well -- in fact, all but 3 of our 25 voters picked at least one normal capsule to go along with their plus selections. Because there's so very many of them, few normal capsules garnered multiple votes -- only Nick Collison and Mike Bibby received more than one. But in the interests of highlighting the capsules that stood out to our readers, here are all capsules that received a vote as notably above the par.

Pau Gasol, Greg Monroe, Paul George, David West, Gerald Henderson, Jon Leuer, Carmelo Anthony, Andrew Bogut, Isaiah Thomas, Gilbert Arenas, Kevin Seraphin, Grant Hill, Derek Fisher, Tyson Chandler, Manny Harris, Avery Bradley, Jeremy Lin, Roy Hibbert, Brandon Jennings, Rajon Rondo, Brian Scalabrine, and Mo Williams.

• • •

VI. UPDATES FOR THE SECOND HALF

Not a ton here -- the format won't be changing, nor will the schedule. However, a few things will. First, I'm switching up the player stat-capsules a little bit -- now that ESPN's #NBARank is done with, I thought it a good idea to add the player's final standing in ESPN's project to the capsule statsheet. We will be adding it to the Capsule Directory in short time, as well. As another piece of useful data, we're adding what number a player is in the capsules out of the remaining players on his 2013 team. For example, see the updated version for DeMarre Carroll below.

Because it would be an incredibly meaningless waste of time, I won't be updating the statsheets for the players long passed. But this should make the statsheets slightly more useful going forward. The final change is hardly a change at all -- I've made two small banner images for the capsule directory, and placed one in the sidebar for easy access and will place one at the end of each capsule post, again, for easy access. Hopefully this helps people remember it exists!

• • •

VI. FINALLY...

Just wanted to add -- huge thanks to all of you who've stayed with me this long, and plan to read even intermittently going forward. For the most part, this project is meant as a reference to all and a reach towards a public database that's impressive, personal, and analytically sound. The fact that so many people have chosen to take the journey with me and watch in its totality my slow descent into blubbering madness is (to me) both heartwarming, humbling, and befuddling. Seriously? There are those who've read 170,000 words that I'VE written? Simply absurd. Nevertheless, let it be known that I have a vast appreciation for those of you reading, whether you've read a single capsule or all 186. Thanks a lot for taking an eye to my work, and I hope it's been -- and will continue to be -- an entertaining journey.

And now that that's over, I have capsules to write. See you on the other side.

_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 contin_ue with Luke Walton, Jeremy Evans, and Kyrylo Fesenko.__

• • •

_Follow Luke Walton by __AUGUUUHUH NOT A LUNK WALTON CAPSULE NOOOOOOO.___

You really have to wonder, sometimes, how far a man can make it on name alone. Luke Walton isn't a great basketball player. At least not at the NBA level. He was good in college -- legitimately good, not just faking it for the cameras. But even then, there were signs. He was a more prominent player his junior year than his senior year, implying that the team actually didn't need him quite as much his senior year when they had better pieces. He still went early in the second round, packed his bags for the 1-hour puddle jump from Tucson to Los Angeles, and nested in. Put up a shaky first few seasons -- rebounded well for a wing, but his defense was highly questionable from day one and his shot has always been about as busted as busted can be. Then, in the 2007 season, Luke Walton broke the hell out and had one of the greatest seasons anyone has ever seen from a playe-- ... wait, he averaged 11-5-4 in 33 minutes a game and downright awful shooting percentages, without any defense to speak of? Jesus Christ, Marie. Despite having a pedestrian at best, barely-replacement-level 2007 season, Kupchak saw fit to offer him a downright hilarious 6-year $30 million dollar contract. Three things about the contract that I find kind of amusing:

• There was literally a $582,726 trade kicker. He made half a million dollars from the Cavs trade. I have no idea how his agent actually got that in the contract.

• Due to the fact that post-CBA the max contract duration for a non-bird rights player was moved down to 4 years, even after the lockout ended, Walton still had 50% of the years of a max contract left on his deal. After four years.

• The mere idea that Luke Walton was signed a 6-year $30,000,000 contract at any point in his career.

God, I don't get it. His agent may actually be the greatest salesman who's ever lived. The contract was sort of like the Lakers going "Oh, hey, Luke. You played at a barely replacement-level pace for a single season! Sure, we'll make the assumption you'll improve dramatically and rise meteorically for the next 6 seasons, culminating in you being a starting quality player for the 2013 champion Lakers starring Steve Nash, Dwight Howard, Kobe Bryant, and Chris Bosh." (They almost got it right!) Alas, that didn't happen. I won't pretend that I'm not sympathetic to the reason Walton's failed miserably -- back problems are terrible, awful things to go through. And I'm sorry that he had to go through that. And perhaps he's going to be a good coach. But Walton's contract is basically nothing more than the worst case scenario for a situation that happens all the dang time. Marginal players who haven't played good years -- and even marginal players who play decent years! -- get large, overly long contracts. Teams spend the duration of the contract blaming them for not living up to standards, even though the standards were remarkably unreachable even at the outset. I don't really blame him for the contract as much as Kupchak, as that's one of the few incredibly poor decisions Kupchak's had over the course of his tenure. Blame the franchise, not the player. Usually.

Walton's just so easy to hate, though. I understand that Walton thinks it's really unfair to be so cruel to him simply because he got the contract. I see his point, to some extent. I also kind of disagree, mostly because I think the premise of his thought regarding the unfair nature of the criticism is based on a lie. It'd be one thing if he'd gotten the contract off a legitimately good season. He didn't. Walton's 2007 season was pedestrian at best. He got assists, sure, but his overall assist rate given the minutes he played was actually extremely low, and all things considered, it wasn't like Walton was tapping new ground. Of his 257 assists that season, 109 of them came to Smush Parker and Kobe Bryant. He didn't really have strong connections with anyone else on the team, and a huge percentage of his assists (more than average, in fact) came on long twos and inefficient outside-the-rim floaters and hooks. He gets a lot of dap from commentators, coaches, and fans for being a "brilliant passer" and a "fantastic mind on the floor" (both actual, real things said by Byron Scott upon his being traded to the Cavaliers). He just... it just... HE REALLY ISN'T, OK? He isn't an amazing passer! He isn't even a good one! He's mediocre at best and a homeless, headless man's Hedo Turkoglu on average!

I just... it's just... Christ! Christ and a half! Christ and three quarters, even! Why? Why in God's name do people insist he's such a good passer? Why do people insist Luke Walton has some magical, mystical touch? I swear! I don't get it! People give higher praise to Walton's passing than they do KYRIE FREAKING IRVING'S passing, AND THAT INCLUDES THEIR COACH. Kyrie has ridiculous court vision, and if it wasn't for the fact that his best target for assists was Antawn "take a dribble then throw up an off-pinkie ten foot spinning ballerina dive" Jamison, I'm pretty sure more people would notice. And even then -- Kyrie's assist rate this year was_ literally almost double the best assist rate of Luke Walton's career_. Just... I don't... Why? WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN. Am I living in some absurdist alternate reality where Walton isn't half the player he is for everyone else? Is this just my punishment for hating the frat bros at Duke and disliking my university experience in general?! WHY?! WHYYYYYYYYYY.

... Anyway, that's Luke Walton. Heard he's a great passer. Solid pickup for the Cavs, I feel.

• • •

_Follow Jeremy Evans on Twitter at __@JeremyEvans40.___

This capsule is pretty simple. I could talk about why Jeremy Evans is limited on defense (gets a ton of blocks, but at the expense of a wealth of missed rotations and out-muscled covers). I could talk about Jeremy Evans' jump shot (as broken as broken can be). I could talk about his awful rotation handling (SO BAD), his slippery fingers (does he eat pancakes by hand on the bench?), his inability to corral the easiest rebound (HOW IS HE SO BAD AT REBOUNDING), et cetera. I could discuss any of these things, but I don't think I will. I just stated that they exist, but that's it. Because absolutely none of this has anything to do with any of the reasons you should know anything about Jeremy Evans. Reasons 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6 as to why Evans is at all noteworthy? Simple.

He dunks. A lot.

Seriously, Evans is an fun dunk artist, albeit not a particularly creative one. Actually, it's a good mark of why the dunk contest has descended to levels of trash that even make league leaders wonder if it's worth keeping around. In the last decade or two, contest dunks have become an exercise in props, raw power, and general gimmickry. Evans is a good dunk artist because he's an incredibly talented jumper, athletically -- if there was an NCAA Tournament bracket for NBA players participating in the long jump, he'd be the #1 overall seed with a bullet. His jumping is so next-level he's able to go from a flat-footed floor catch to the rim in virtually no time flat, and although he's certainly not the strongest dunkmaster in the league, he gets up so high he's usually got the room to slam the ball in from a good few inches above the rim, minimum. The thing is, what do you really do with that? His general dunking skillset is essentially "he jumps high", "high he jumps", and "jumps high he does". But when the dunks are constrained to people generally matching Evans in jumping ability, the only way to actually differentiate them is by relying on stupid gimmickry and stunts. Not really a good formula. In my view, the reason it doesn't work has nothing to do with the players and the skillsets. It more has to do with the nature of the dunk itself.

When we think of players who are known for downright excellent in-game dunks -- LeBron, Griffin, Rose -- there's a common thread. Each of them are excellent not just at the dunk itself, but at the moment. They're good at distilling the dunk down to its purest form, an act of active aggression against another player and another team. A good dunk can't occur in a sterilized, whitewashed environment. It's not a field goal, simply existing between the uprights and the kicker. No, a good dunk is reliant not just on the player and the rim, but the player and everyone around him. It's reliant on a strong cut through a hard defense to power to the rim. It's reliant on the opposing team getting emblazoned on posters and the crowd reacting with hushed reverence or abuzz with hysterical cheers (depending on whether it's an away game or a home game). It's the other players viscerally cringing at the fury, the short preen before both players need to forget it ever happened and get back on defense. THAT'S what makes an NBA dunk so cool. With a dunk contest that's never going to be able to reflect the actual essence of an NBA dunk, I'm honestly of the view that you're better off watching the Sprite Slam Dunk contest without the NBA players. Those things are crazy -- people off the street figure out ridiculous and quasi-impossible moves, rolling with 780 degree spins off a flat-footed heave or a backflip dunk-with-the-feet or other such absurdity. Love them. And there's an added level of interest, too, when you realize that it's just people off the street. No NBA talent, just guys you could theoretically face at a pick up league. A true air of mystery. No idea what to expect before they take off. It's exciting, far moreso than the NBA contest where you know everyone's general style before the event.

Still. Evans is fun to watch at an NBA level if you like powerful dunks. If you're looking for more? Might not be your guy.

• • •

_Follow Kyrylo Fesenko on Twitter at __@KyryloFesenko.___

Kyrylo Fesenko doesn't get major minutes. In my view, he probably should. I understand the basic reason why hasn't happened. Fesenko is large and bulky, but he struggles absurdly much at the offensive end of the floor -- his per36 numbers are a tepid 10 points and 8 rebounds a night. Poor all-around, ergo, most teams barely deign to play him at all. But the game is played on two ends, and on one end of the court, Fesenko is rather special. His real value comes on defense -- Fesenko has reliably been among the tops in the league for almost every defensive stat he could for the last few years. On/off court adjusted plus/minus, Synergy stats, 82Games opponent tracking, everything -- name a defensive assessment stat, and Fesenko probably rates pretty highly on it. In the last few years, anyway. He isn't necessarily a great defender due to hustle plays, shot blocking, or freak athleticism. More aptly, he's a great defender because for someone his size, he's incredibly fluid. Moves as though he's six pounds shorter and 100 pounds lighter. Probably would make an EXCELLENT boxer. Combine that with his raw size, which is honestly incredible? You've essentially created this giant, highly mobile wall that smart teams employ very effectively to cordon off the rim and blow up any team's average pick and roll play. Even with his lacking offensive stuff, his defense makes him a clear NBA talent, and in a good situation where he's only called upon as a defensive rock he could carve out a relatively lucrative career. I'm hoping he does. (And, I'll admit -- I was really hoping the Spurs could've picked him up. A legitimate defensive center, dangit! Could've been cool!)

Off the court, Fesenko is one of those stealthy jokesters. You'll miss his humor if you aren't looking. Luckily, so many people are! And by so many, I essentially just mean Dan Devine and me. Take my favorite example, courtesy of Mr. Devine: this video from the 2010 playoffs taped shortly after the Nuggets were eliminated. Wait. You actually can't take that video for an example, because the NBA deleted it during the lockout. (I found this out about 6 months back. I was distraught.) Retrospectively, this may be the biggest lockout casualty. Never mind the 400-something people who lost their jobs. This video was legitimately one of my favorite things to watch for almost a year, and it was gone post-lockout. Dan probably knows exactly how I feel here. I'll try to explain the video for the rest of you. Basically, in a completely average and nondescript interview, Fesenko starts mumbling about teammates and what he's trying to improve. He's a little incoherent, talks about how he needs to cap the number of jokes he has per day (totally untrue, he shouldn't cap any jokes at all), stuff like that. Then, without any warning, he gets completely lucid and goes "The fans love me. In fact, I'm trying to get Kyle Korver's sexy movie of the Jazz position." I just... what?! I'm not kidding whatsoever when I say I've spent actual hours of my life on earth trying to unravel what exactly Fesenko meant, here. It's beautiful.

Is he implying that Kyle Korver made a sex tape in his Jazz jersey? Is he implying that while the fans love him, he imagines they'd love him more if he taped a highlight reel with a porn-music backdrop and a Kyle Korver wig? Did a fan REQUEST that? Does he think Kyle Korver's shot is sexy and worthy of emulation? I just... there are so many angles to take. It's one of those great turns of phrase that's so incomprehensibly vague and brilliant you have simply no idea how to parse it. Hilarious. His twitter isn't quite as absurdist, but it has its moments, like when he called The Expendables "The Expandables" (probably unintentional but completely hilarious subversion), when he said he was super excited to see Kyle Korver and Ronnie Brewer in Chicago (again, probably unintentional, but I laughed when I read it), or when he was equally excited for Diablo 3 to come out as he was for the Heat series. Funny stuff. Basically, everything Fesenko has done has seemed funny in one way or another since I saw the video. Which... you are completely unable to see. So this whole capsule may come across as head-scratching. But alas. Fesenko is great, and I'm glad the Bulls got SOMEONE of some repute this offseason, at least from a comedy perspective. Good on you, Bulls fans. (Also, yes -- if they utilize him in a similar role as Asik, there's absolutely a fringe possibility he'll be just about as good. Which would be astonishing. But his limited-minutes defensive stats certainly indicate that kind of a potential in a greater role.)

• • •

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. Good work on the riddles, where every riddle was correctly answered at least once but where nobody got a full 3/3. For the 2/3 guesses, props to Mike, Sean, and Atori. Fun.

• I'll admit it -- I was absolutely, 100% shocked that this former Tiger could make threes this season. Only seven, but still, pretty cool wrinkle. Always thought Player #187 to be more of a big, myself.

• Should've gone with the point guard, guys. Player #188 not only isn't a great NBA player, he also suddenly doesn't fit on the team that explicitly wanted him. Yikes. He could be good, someday, but he certainly hasn't gotten there yet.

• REALLY good defender as a rookie. Still solid last year, too. Not great on offense, but that was to be expected. Player #189 may always be criminally underrated on defense because he's thin, wiry, and doesn't preen. And honestly, that's a huge shame.

Suppose I'll put this here. I'm officially over 50% of the way through the series! Fewer capsules ahead of us than behind us! Hooray! And no, this project won't be finished on opening day (nor was it ever intended to be, contrary to popular belief), although it will be by Christmas. I'll be posting a halfway-there retrospective either this weekend or in the middle of next week to go over some stats, thoughts, and musings on the general course of the project. If you want to contribute to the retrospective, please name your favorite three or four capsules in the comments below. You can even tell me why you like them! Thanks a whole bunch for reading, whether you're a regular reader or just one who pops in from time to time. I really appreciate the support.

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's three include JaJuan Johnson, Semih Erden, and J.R. Smith.

• • •

_Follow JaJuan Johnson on Twitter at __@JaJuanJohnson.___

One of the occupational hazards of doing a series like this is running into a player you simply don't remember watching. I know I saw him at least once -- I watched more than enough of the Celtics not to. But pretending that I'm some font of all knowledge about JaJuan Johnson's game would be quite foolish. I did watch a bunch of Synergy Sports footage on him last night, yes, and I've read back on career histories, what he did in college, et cetera. I know enough now to inform. But I'd be lying if I attested some giant wealth of knowledge about JaJuan Johnson's game. Don't know if that really matters, but figured I'd state it outright. Nevertheless. A few scouting observations on Johnson's game:

• Fundamentally, he's a really poor rebounder. Which is curious, as he was a solid one in college. He just doesn't seem to have a really good sense of space or where he needs to be to snag the chippies, and his box-outs are incredibly weak. In a general sense, Johnson seems to get more rebounds by simply happening across them than he does rebounds he actively contests for. It's sort of like the rebounding strategy of a guard in a big man's body.

• He's quicker than he looks. This isn't to say he's super fast or incredibly athletic, but he has that stealthy sort of quickness, where he's fast on his feet cutting and is quick to move side-to-side on defense. This actually could make a passable defender someday -- he had his rookie yips on that end, but Johnson's clearly got a decent defensive skillset (and actually was the NCAA DPoY at Purdue), and if he can bulk up a bit and maintain that quickness, he'd have a good shot at carving out a rotation player role.

• Extremely high release to his jump shot, which is sort of trippy, but it isn't awful. He doesn't shoot as quickly as he could, so the high release helps him get his shot off before defensive pressure rotates. Although the strength of his competition in his scant minutes was incredibly awful, he did convert 44% of his shots from the true midrange last year, which puts him in the 90th percentile of players for his position if he was to do that in the regular season. Granted, due to the fact that he's bad at getting to the rim and ATROCIOUS at converting from the long midrange (under 30% on the year), it's questionable how much a single high season-to-season variance midrange jumper is going to really make him an incredibly valuable offensive player, especially since he can't convert much at the rim unless he's set up with a horrendously easy chip shot. But alas.

In terms of prospects, I'm not totally sure where he goes from here. He clearly had a ton of trouble his rookie year learning the Celtics' playbook, both on offense and defense. Just look at what happened when Doc Rivers screamed at him. Because of that, he's stuck in a Catch-22 that has doomed an incredible number of players in the NBA -- he's not good unless he can learn the playbook, but he can't really learn the playbook unless he gets the chance to play out the string and actually experience it. When all his minutes come in meaningless garbage time, it's pretty difficult to motivate yourself to really invest in learning the exact playbook. I mean, heck, you don't even know that you'll be on the team in a year, you know? Same thing happened to James Anderson, and happens to most young guns on extremely good teams. They don't get in outside of garbage time, which ruins their work ethic and makes them prone to mental lapses that end up keeping them on the bench and irrevocably stunting their development.

Perhaps luckily for him, then, he was recently traded in the Courtney Lee deal as one of the assets Houston picked up for their ever-increasing haul of forwards. While that position is now deeper than the Octomom family pick-up team roster in Houston, the Houston playbook is nowhere near as complicated as the Celtics playbook, and he stands far more of a shot of getting better quality minutes on a team that's relatively lacking than he does on a team contending for home court advantage. Still -- if Houston is better than expected (as they could potentially be -- Asik's defensive chops are legendary, and if Martin has a bounceback season and Lin improves they could very well be in the fringes of the western playoff race) I'd expect his minutes to once again shrink into the abyss as Kevin McHale rolls with the polished vets and younger prospects in Johnson's wake. Sort of a pity, as I think he could be a half-decent roleplayer someday, but it'll be alright. Someday he'll make his way to a team that can leverage his skills and develop him into a useful piece. Perhaps that's Houston, perhaps that's not, but it'll probably happen someday regardless.

• • •

_Follow Semih Erden's example by scruffing up your hair and falling over all the friggin' time__.___

If it wasn't for the fact that Erden spent his last season on the Cavs, I probably would've had to do the same thing I did with Johnson's capsule -- that is, watch a ton of Synergy scouting and hope I notice some interesting tidbits. Luckily, I watched enough Cavs games to avoid that lonely despairing fate. Why lucky? Because, dear readers, watching Semih Erden play for your professional basketball team is about as enjoyable a fate as being coated with honey and eaten by bees. No, seriously. I try to be positive in this series. I wish I could give you a bunch of positive words, but I can't. He's simply one of the least engaging, least entertaining, and outright least useful players I've ever seen in my life. At an NBA level, Erden is a poor rebounder (rebounding rates have been incredibly low his whole career), an awful scorer (he had an above average TS% due only to an incredibly limited shot distribution -- respectable that he never tried to do anything he couldn't, I suppose, but not reflective of a good NBA offensive player), and a sleepy defender. A very sleepy defender. A defender whose defensive coverage quite frankly was akin to what a normal everyday dude would look like if they were dragged out of bed on 2 hours of sleep, put in platform shoes, and ordered to cover an NBA-level athlete.

The only distinguishing factor about his game -- and yes, I realize how hilarious this is -- is that he's one of the clumsiest NBA players I've ever seen. People say JaVale McGee's airheaded wonder is akin to clumsiness, but they're wrong. They've clearly never had to watch Semih Erden try and take the ball in the post. He trips, lumbers, and slips his way into all of our hearts. He trips setting screens. He trips while trying to cut to the rim. He trips while getting rebounds. He doesn't always fall, but you always notice the "whoops" slip. That moment where he looks like he's about to fall, catches himself, and watches as his man goes up strong for a dunk. Problems, man. Watching Semih Erden play at an NBA level, where the other players are of NBA athleticism rather than Turkish league athleticism, is like betting a friend that you can make a dreidel spin longer than they can. You know it'll fall over at some point, and you can anticipate with dread the moment right before it happens. You can tell. The spin starts to break, the lean starts to emerge, and you let out a whispered cuss. The dreidel falls while your friend's top spins happily onward, the bet lost. Disappointed, you hand the friend the agreed-upon neo-shekels. It's sad and disappointing. And it's also exactly what watching Semih Erden play in the NBA was like.

I say "was" because he's moved on from the NBA and returned to the Turkish league, which is probably best for both parties. In Semih Erden's case, he's actually a relatively useful center in the international game, and yes, he does seem less clumsy when you aren't pitting him against hyperathletic freaks of nature every other night. The goaltending rules (somehow) help him out as well, and in general, watching him play internationally has just always seemed a better fit for his subdued game. So here's to you, Semih. May you bring fans in Turkey the same vigor that produced the numerous "Semih Erden Falling Over" drinking games in the NBA. (That is, er, no vigor whatsoever.)

• • •

_Follow J.R. Smith on Twitter at __@TheRealJRSmith.___

A lot of people find many of the league's brightest lights frustrating. Rondo, Melo, Kobe, Dwight -- there's a somewhat odd inverse relationship, where once you become one of the 20-30 best players in the league, analysts happen to overanalyze your game and isolate every minuscule flaw that makes you the tiniest bit worse. There's a glaring tendency (one that, I must emphasize, I do all the time -- I'm not blameless in any way, here, and these criticisms reflect on me as well) to minimize the things that make those players so incredible to the benefit of extensively explicating their few flaws. The thing that gets a bit tricky about taking this sort of an approach is that when you take a step back, when you examine how differently we assess players among the best and players among the worst, there's a necessary endorsement of a flawed corollary -- the idea that we need to analyze the least prominent part of a player's game. In the case of the lesser players, we need to find the few ways they produce value. In the case of the greater players, we need to find reasons they aren't so wonderful. In some ways it's noble, and even slightly egalitarian -- it evens the playing field in the mental landscape of NBA thought. And I certainly don't think it's entirely wrong. In some ways, I actually do think that's an apt way to look at it. In others, though, it's certainly worth taking a step back and realizing that sometimes we go overboard. There are some players that are simply absurd, impossible, and disappointing -- and honestly, very rarely are these players among the best at their position.

One such player? J.R. Smith.

Last season, J.R. posted an effective field goal percentage below his position average. Which may not surprise you. But what makes it surprising is that he accomplished that despite posting percentages above position average from every single range on the floor beyond the 3-9 foot range. Despite his at-rim percentage being in the 70th percentile of all NBA guards, he took fewer shots at the rim per minute played than 70% of the guards in the NBA. He was barely at the position average from three, which to J.R. Smith, was apparently carte blanche to pretend he's James Jones -- despite being barely above average, he took almost 50% of his shots from beyond the three point line. There are very few players in the league with such an incomprehensible shot chart relative to how well they shoot from each range. He actually can run the pick and roll pretty well, to the extent that you wonder why the hell he doesn't do it more often -- instead, he often found his partner rolling with an effective shot at an open rim-finish and Smith just decided to hoist up and shoot a random three, or a random jumper. Absolutely kills chemistry, and makes it hard for his teammates to trust he'll get them the ball. Ever. It can gum up the offense, despite his numerous offensive skills.

Then there's the mental lapses. There are players that have moderately flawed court vision. There are players who make bad decisions with the ball. There are players who make ridiculous decisions with the ball. Then there's J.R. Smith, who somehow manages to do all of that -- weird passes that would only work in some reality nobody but Smith's partial to, crazy steal attempts that had no chance, and complete misapplication of one of the most athletically talented frames in the game. He's strong, quick, and slippery -- if he put his mind to it, you have to imagine he'd make a downright excellent defensive player. If he could just get his shot distribution in check and be more consistent, he'd be a beastly NBA player at a position that's honestly pretty slim at the moment -- after the Kobe/Wade/Manu trio, there's only really Gordon/Harden/Johnson to contend with. Smith has the talent and skill to be right there in that second group if he'd just get a few of his impulses in check, and if you're honest, with a handle like his and the inherent shooting talent he has, it's really not too big of a leap to imagine a defensively-retooled J.R. Smith being one of the 10 best players in the NBA. Seriously. He never has put it all together, though, and it remains one of the things that disappoints me most in the NBA. Taking an eye to the vintage J.R. games is one of the most enjoyable things you can watch. So, in some ways, I feel Smith has let me down -- he's made it so rare, so fleeting, so pie-in-the-sky to imagine him as an all-star player. But he should be so much better. It's incomprehensible.

So. Let's push pause for a second. That was vicious, extreme, and honestly really unfair. This might be where I'd close the capsule and stop talking about J.R. Smith, if I hadn't gone super-negative to emphasize a totally different point. I entreat you to take some time and read what might be the article of the year: Jonathan Abrams' profile of Smith's career over at Grantland. There's a reason I noted in the first paragraph that I'm actually quite sympathetic to the idea that we're doing the sport more justice by approaching the best players with a critical eye and lesser players with a sympathetic eye. Sometimes the point lies deeper than a stark assessment of relative value. The reasons aren't simple, but Abrams' profile highlights one of the many ways it's a flawed dichotomy. It's a pretty big mistake to attribute 100% of the fault for Smith's currently disappointing career. Just because a player has disappointed doesn't mean we should pillory the player. It means many different things. Perhaps, in some cases, it means we need to take a step back and examine the coaching tree he went through. Perhaps it's a bunch of poor rookie fits. Perhaps the player's history, the nature, the manner of upbringing conspired to make their ceiling lower than it should be. Perhaps injuries sapped their game.

But through it all, there's one theme -- it's not necessarily their fault. There are a myriad of talents and triumphs that highlight the NBA's stratosphere, but one thing tends to ring true. The players that make it to that level have been (for the most part) blessed with coaches and organizations that matched the way they approach the game, at least at some point in their development. They've escaped career-destroying injuries, a la Antonio McDyess. They've got work ethic, yes, but they haven't necessarily been 100% responsible for their grand success. When we assess a minor player as a disappointment we're in some extent placing the weight of the world on their shoulders -- we're placing the fault at their feet, assuming that if only they'd put in more effort, they'd have made it to our lofty expectations. But work ethic isn't 100% of the story, and it never will be. Who's to say that J.R. Smith couldn't have become a brilliant, generational, top-5 shooting guard if he hadn't been under Byron Scott's quasi-tyrannical thumb? Who's to say that, conversely, Kobe wouldn't have seen his share of struggles if he'd never found Phil Jackson and actually spent his first 5-10 years as a Hornet? Is Smith's puzzling work ethic a matter of nature or nurture?

It's actively impossible to answer these questions, and impossible to actively consider on a regular basis in your analysis. That's true. But in my view, by evening the playing field and assessing the players on their relative strengths and weaknesses, you do a better job looking at the league's full picture rather than simplifying the analysis down to tropes and disappointment. By focusing on the ways the NBA's brightest lights regress to the mean while focusing the small ways lesser players triumph, you start to come to broader realizations about the game, the sport, and life in general. Perhaps one's disappointing. Perhaps one's far better. Their on-court performance may be vastly different, but in the final estimation, they're both two of the 100-something best players in the world. Maybe, just maybe, that's enough.

• • •

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 clearly gaining my edge back with these riddles. Nobody got ANY of today's players right. I'd say I'll make them easier, but I'm kind of enjoying stumping everyone, so perhaps not.

• The greatest lie Stu Lantz ever told was convincing anyone that Player #184 had even a modicum of NBA passing ability.
• Oh, man, let me tell you all about Player #185. He dunks. He... uh, dunks some more. And also, he dunks!
• Extremely good defender in extremely limited minutes, Player #186 has the outside potential of being an Asik-type if he'd work his conditioning a bit more. Though I'd say that's an extremely fringe possibility.

Keep on keepin' on.

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 Shelden Williams, Jodie Meeks, and Lamar Odom.

• • •

_Follow Shelden Williams on Twitter at __@SheldenWilliams.___

Last season, Shelden Williams coupled one of the most self-aware shot distributions in the league with one of the least efficient offensive seasons of anyone in the NBA. Really. Williams took over 70% of his shots at the rim, which compares quite favorably with his position as a whole -- most forward-centers take around 30-40% of their shots at the rim, which is good, however... there's an important general rule that the less versatile you are on the offensive end, the more you should pump that number up. Williams took that and ran with it, leading to a shot distribution that -- for any average offensive center -- would've led to a well-above-average shooting percentage. Unfortunately for Williams, he isn't an average offensive center -- he's a straight-up abysmal offensive center, and even a super-efficient shot distribution profile couldn't save his overall offensive game. Case in point: Williams shot 57% at the rim. You'd perhaps think that's good, in a vacuum, but that's only good if you aren't culling it down to his position's average -- most positions aren't as good at the rim as centers and big men.

To wit: among centers and large forwards, shooting 57% at the rim is only good enough to (just barely) put you in the 20th percentile of NBA centers. Yikes. Over 80% of the players at his position shot better at the rim than he did. The picture obviously doesn't get better once you get past the rim -- in the 53 shots he let off outside the rim, he made a scant 13, a completion percentage right around 24%. Rough story. For Nets fans, this does have sort of a point -- while I've been notably scathing in my criticism of Deron Williams, for last year's Nets, slightly under half of Deron's minutes (909 out of 1999) came with Shelden Williams at center. I'll repeat that. Almost half of Deron Williams' minutes came with Shelden Williams at center. While Deron Williams had terrible numbers last year (to the point that few people even remotely realize how bad they are), it's almost impossible to belabor the point enough that he was feeding a player as offensively rudderless as Shelden Williams as his primary man in the middle. I don't know that the Nets are going to really be that good this year -- I have them pegged for just over 0.500. But there's at least some reason to believe he'll return to his pre-Nets numbers when you look at the sorts of crummy offensive players he was having to force-feed in New Jersey.

All in all, I find it kind of darkly fascinating that Williams is this bad of an NBA player. The offense is one thing -- the defense is another, and he's bad at it too! His overall lacking size (scarcely hitting 6'9" is NOT a good look for an NBA center) doesn't help matters, as it makes it relatively easy for most NBA-size centers to simply convert over him. His lack of speed makes it difficult for him to recover when he gets out of position (which is disturbingly often for fans of wherever he happens to be playing). And his often sky-high turnover rate means he's so often caught having to sprint the length of the floor to stop a fast-break, something he simply doesn't have a very strong skillset in. For a player who was -- in college -- extremely good, this all is pretty disappointing. I don't really remember the 2006 draft, but I don't imagine most people thought this pick was that horrible. For instance, look at Simmons' draft diary -- calls it a "solid pick", shrugs, moves on. But Williams has been, all things considered, a pretty unmitigated disappointment in the NBA despite having a decent skillset coming in and constantly tweaking his shot distribution to try and play to his strengths. Is this seriously the best he can be? I wish I could say it wasn't, but at this point, I have legitimately no idea what aspect of his game is under his control that could make him any better. So... it's quite unfortunate, but yeah, it probably is the best he can be.

• • •

_Follow Jodie Meeks on Twitter at __@Jmeeks20.___

Surprised anyone DIDN'T snag this riddle, although a few figured it out. I noted in yesterday's riddle that today's 2nd player would be the one guy that could improve the most if he played alongside Nash. To that end, there are exactly two types of perfect complementary players for Steve Nash -- athletic rim-cutting bigs with incredible finishing ability and spot up specialist three point shooters with a quick release. The Lakers have one of both -- they have Dwight Howard for the first, obviously, but he can't really be expected to improve that much at this point of his career. For the second? They've got the young and restless bomber, Jodie Meeks. Now, Meeks isn't exactly the most versatile player -- most shooting guards stick to some combination of the rim, the long midrange, and the three on offense. Meeks takes that to a whole other level, taking 90% of his shots from those three ranges and 60% of his overall shots from beyond the three point line. What makes Meeks effective is that he's quite decent at those shots, over the last two years converting 38% from beyond the arc. For reference, there were exactly two Lakers last year who shot better than that from three in significant minutes -- Ramon Sessions and Troy Murphy. With Nash on the floor to redirect the ball to Meeks, he should see the customary Nash bump to his three point percentage, and kill more than a few teams over the course of the year with timely bombs.

Wouldn't expect him to do all that much else, though. The fatal flaw to Meeks' game is simply that of lack -- he lacks any other cogent skills he can leverage into a more important role on a good team. He's one of the worst rebounders in the game, even for a guard -- he ranked 404 out of 478 in total rebounding percentage last season. He doesn't really generate assists either -- his assist % of 5 is well below the position average, even for supposed ballhogs. One amusing thing you can do with Meeks' numbers to demonstrate his lack of tertiaries is to simply rank every player in the league on their assist percentage added to their rebound percentage -- due to the higher average assist percentage than rebound percentage, the top of the list ends up being very guard heavy, but not with Meeks. He comes in at -- I kid you not -- 463 out of 478 players. The only players under him include a lot of specialists and players who played 4 or 5 games total -- he's the lowest (by far) of anyone who played the string and appeared in a full 66 games. If he could develop at least one tertiary hustle skill, I have a feeling he'd be a really solid piece. Not sure what he can develop, but if he could just get something, he'd be right there as a starter-quality talent on an excellent team.

Some think he's a very good defender. I don't totally disagree, but I also think he's quite overrated by the statistical metrics that generally point to his defensive prominence. His Synergy numbers are good, but watching the footage, I get the sense he benefits a lot from who he's playing with. Meeks spent almost 66% of his minutes on the court with Elton Brand (who just completed one of the best bounceback defensive seasons I can remember any big man ever having -- he was brilliant on that end in 2012, and makes everyone around him look a hell of a lot better), right at 66% of his minutes with Jrue Holiday (who tended to draw the tougher guard assignment), and over 66% of his minutes with Andre Iguodala (whose defensive chops need no introduction and who helped a lot on possessions he wasn't actively shutting a man down with). His Synergy numbers are good, mind you, and the on/off court numbers make him look semi-important. But they seem more a factor of who he played with and the relatively insubstantial role he played on that end with the Sixers. I don't imagine they'll hold up in Los Angeles unless he shares a great deal of time with Dwight Howard. If not, I don't expect he'll be actively poor on the defensive end -- he has solid fundamentals and a good sense of space, timing, and when to foul -- but I also don't expect he'll rank quite as high in Synergy, or have on/off numbers anywhere near as positive as they were in Philadelphia.

• • •

Follow _Lamar Odom on Twitter at __@RealLamarOdom.___

I feel like most people don't realize how incongruous Odom's 2012 season was. This is a player who -- the year before! -- was a deserving all-star candidate, MIP candidate, and Sixth Man of the Year award winner. This wasn't some "oh, he's years from last being good" situation. Odom was less than a year from being good. Sure, he had his disappointments late in the year -- he was really quite atrocious in the 2011 playoffs, and on less of a smaller sample size, he did actually get worse as the year went on. As an example, just look at his rarely-examined splits before and after February (I say all-star weekend, but I think I accidentally calculated it by month, heh, whoops.)

Notice the issue? After the all-star break, Odom shot way worse from two point range (primarily the rim), rebounded quite a bit worse, and couldn't play quite as many minutes per game due to exhaustion. On a less statistical level, his defense looked significantly worse after the all-star break in 2011, and his general energy level was at an absolute minimum. None of these were good signs, and as 2012 showed, we might not have put nearly enough stock into them as legitimate signs of an aging player. Odom didn't just look "a little bad" in 2012 -- he looked horrible, posting career-worst numbers in points per 36 minutes, assists per 36, overall shooting percentage, and free throw percentage. He posted "almost" career-worst numbers in rebound rate, fouls per game, and steals/blocks. He posted the absolute worst defensive numbers of his career (and subjectively, those were even worse than they looked) and looked about 20 steps slow for the NBA pace of the game. Absolutely awful. And this happened on a team where he was hardly the oldest piece -- he was the 7th oldest player on the team, and 5 of the 6 players older played FAR more important roles on that Mavericks team.

So, what should we be expecting going forward? Not a whole lot, if I'm honest. Odom's falloff didn't simply look like a man whose head was a bit out of place last year -- he looked like a man who was consistently 3 to 4 steps slow, a man who didn't really know what he was doing, and a man whose athletic marvels were no longer enough to outpace poor effort. I'd look to players like Troy Murphy, Tracy McGrady, and Vince Carter for the new expectation. He may be able to produce better results if he puts in a modicum of effort, but his athletic talents are virtually gone and his game was highly dependent on them. Even if -- as with McGrady and Carter -- he reaches a sort of equilibrium at a certain percentage of his old production, it's not going to be anywhere close to the heights he used to soar. And as he was never quite the MVP-candidate type that Carter and McGrady was, I'd err on the side of the lesser players and expect him going forward to be about as useful as Troy Murphy is now. Perhaps his three point shot will come back next to Paul, and perhaps with increased effort he'll rebound a bit better than his awful rate last year. But without his legs under him on defense and without seriously revising the tenor of his game, I don't really see how we can expect Odom to be anything more than a marginal bench upgrade to a team that needed a bit more than that.

Off the court, you have to feel pretty awful for Odom, even if you don't like celebrities much. He's gone through a lot of traumatic experiences this past year, including but not limited to: experiencing the death of a beloved cousin, being the passenger in a car that hit and killed a 15-year-old boy AT THE FUNERAL for said cousin, having to deal with an extremely ill father, dealing with the ongoing ramifications of his suddenly deceased son, and dealing with the ongoing stress of having virtually his entire life televised. The thing that really gets me about it all is that so many people fall victim to the disease Matt Moore smartly calls "the victory lap" -- our inherent need to run around proclaiming our brilliance when we correctly assess that something is at risk of happening. NBA scribes, fans, and followers make all manner of predictions and share all sorts of thoughts before a season begins. When we're wrong, we like to essentially pretend they never happened. When we're right, we like to stampede around to brag about our brilliance and remind everyone that, indeed, we were the second coming of Nostradamus! But we're not always right for the right reasons, and with Odom's stark and sudden fall, those who throw dirt on the shallow grave of his waning career are completely missing the point. He's fallen off with age, yes, and perhaps he was never so great to begin with. But when the weight of personal tragedy and a body begun to fail descends upon a former great, it's hard to really sit around proclaiming brilliance. Were you predicting his cousin would die? Were you predicting the reality show would stress him to incredible levels? We predicted results, not the manner they happened. And let's be honest: nobody predicts a tragedy. For a darn good reason, too.

• • •

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. The best, yesterday? 1/3. I'm getting my edge back.

• One of Tim Severson's favorite players, this particular forward has never really gotten the chance to shine in the frosty northeast. This is probably because he's not very good at NBA-level basketball.
• The Cavs got this particular player for free. Literally free. The cost STILL may have been too much. Yikes.
• He should be better defensively. He should be more efficient. He's a semi-insane headcase. But he still does have those games, and while he wasn't a major factor outside of that, sometimes that's enough.

Stay frosty, friends.