Today, I read two very important articles within about 15 minutes of each other. They set off an incredibly angry tirade in my head that I couldn't do all that much about, and still can't. Except write it down. Which, as millions of NBA fans everywhere are uncomfortably discovering, is virtually all we can do. We hold no leverage, no power, no pull. And while I'm not saying we should have all that much power here, there are moments when I can't help but get depressed by the fact that we have absolutely nothing we can do but wait and see what happens while borderline insane factions of owners battle a downtrodden and de-toothed player's union. Nonetheless. The first story I read, thanks to Kelly Dwyer, was a somewhat interesting exchange from the run up to the 1999 lockout.
During the mass owner-player meeting yesterday, Jordan engaged in a heated exchange with Wizards owner Abe Pollin. Jordan's showdown with Pollin and fellow Bull Steve Kerr's verbal battle with David Stern were the highlights of the 11/2-hour meeting, according to several players.
According to players, Pollin said about his fellow owners, "You just have to trust us."
Jordan fired back, saying, "You've got to trust our negotiators." Jordan also blasted owners for not bargaining in good faith in the offseason and said to Pollin, "If you can't make a profit, you should sell your team."
Sound familiar? Dan Gilbert's "trust my gut" line isn't really a new sentiment. Abe Pollin's pleading for the players' trust is just about the same, and just about as baseless. There's no particular reason to trust an ownership group who is trying to kill your union. Jordan was right for standing up to the owners. But, really -- the 1999 lockout isn't the 2011 lockout, as we're discovering. And to be honest? The owners during the 1999 lockout were clearly operating from a position of better faith than the 2011 lockout. As I discovered firsthand from this particularly infuriating piece from the New York Times outlining the demands of a certain faction of the owners. Led by none other than the league's all-time golden boy. The same person from the previous story, in fact.
A faction of 50 N.B.A. players is threatening to dissolve the union if it compromises further on player salaries. The league is facing an equivalent threat from a trenchant group of owners, who are vowing to oppose any deal that gives players more than 50 percent of revenue.
The owners’ faction includes between 10 and 14 owners and is being led by Charlotte’s Michael Jordan, according to a person who has spoken with the owners. That group wanted the players’ share set no higher than 47 percent, and it was upset when league negotiators proposed a 50-50 split last month. According to the person who spoke with the owners, Jordan’s faction intends to vote against the 50-50 deal, if negotiations get that far. Saturday’s owners meeting was arranged in part to address that concern. ...
Despite the misgivings of some owners, Commissioner David Stern has said publicly that he can garner support for a 50-50 deal and will continue pushing for it. But the longer the negotiations drag on, and the more games are canceled, it is more likely that the hard-line owners will demand reductions. That group backed an initial proposal that would have cut the players’ share to 37 percent (from 57), eliminated guaranteed contracts, rolled back current salaries and imposed a hard salary cap. The league has since dropped those demands over the objections of those owners.
This is a lot to digest. So let's start at the top. The picture I started this post with is a photo of Michael Jordan's house. Jordan bought that house in 2010. It's worth $12.4 million dollars -- $4.8 million for the land, $7.6 million for the construction. It's highly likely that my net worth over my entire career will be less than this house he built, using money he earned as a player and as an icon. And that's quite his right. What I don't think is quite his right is demanding that players submit to completely fucking insane draconian proposals. Jordan always had his brand behind him, and from the time he took off in the NBA, he essentially was set for life. Jordan was never a middle-class NBA player -- a star from day one, all things considered. But he didn't let that stop him from fighting for the players in 1999, and helped the players get a deal that was -- frankly -- the best deal any professional athletes had in any league.
Now? It appears that Jordan has pulled a Harvey Dent. He has lived long enough to not only become the biggest villain we've seen in this lockout, but to become a grotesque caricature of one to boot. A villain who demands the players' unconditional surrender with no recompense, despite the fact that not less than 10 years ago he was among their ranks. A villain who would rather endanger the legacies and careers of dozens of young stars with a lockout that lasts not just months, but years than accept a deal that lets the players save face and protect their sport for future players. You couldn't write a better comic book villain here. You may not remember when the owners released their original proposal -- nobody paid it much attention, because it was fucking crazy. The rollback of all current salaries? No guaranteed contracts? A rock-hard punitive cap, and a reduction of the player's BRI share by TWENTY PERCENT? No way any owner actually thought that was reasonable, the story went. There's nobody on the owner's side who's that crazy. That's the equivalent of walking into a new car lot, demanding a Mercedes for a nickel, then being flabberghasted that they won't sell you the Mercedes for five dollars -- after all, you've made some SERIOUS concessions. Nobody could possibly demand that in good faith. Right?
Oh. Wait. It looks like Jordan's batshit crazy competitive desire doesn't just apply to basketball. It doesn't just apply to the obsessive way he approaches gambling. It doesn't just apply to his rude, cantankerous, and altogether inappropriate Hall of Fame speeches. It also applies to the way he does business. And unfortunately for NBA fans, Jordan has finally latched onto the one place where he CAN do business this way -- if Jordan ran a business in a competitive market and made demands like this, nobody would work for him, and he wouldn't be able to be quite this insane and still pull a profit. But the NBA isn't a competitive market, it's a cartel. The owners have a monopoly on the only professional basketball league in the country -- there's no ABA to go to, no backup plan for the players. It's NBA or bust. And if the owners want to be pathetic racists a la Donald Sterling, the only person who can really do anything about it is Stern. If the owners want to be money-grubbing crazy people like Robert Sarver, nobody really can bat an eye. And if the owners want to demand insane concessions and cry foul at the players for trying to preserve their livelihood? Well, looks like nobody can even say much of anything.
After all, he's God disguised as Michael Jordan. Right?
So, according to our friends at Public Policy Polling, Aaron Rodgers has a 89% approval rating in Wisconsin, to go with a 4% disapproval rating and 7% having no opinion. These are, according to them, the best favorability numbers they've gotten in any poll they've ever conducted. As a statistician I don't find that particularly hard to fathom -- Aaron Rodgers has the ideal mix of being a franchise cornerstone coming off a magical season and unexpected playoff run in the most popular sport in America. He's nice, nonconfrontational, and beloved.
The poll did raise the question with me, though -- what athletes would match it? That is, are there any athletes on earth with Rodgers' combination of widespread love and widespread knowledge? That is -- anybody with 90%+ approval and 7% or less nonresponse. Given how relatively neat and simple the line seems to be, I shall hereby refer to it as "the Rodgers test." It is the test of an athlete so beloved and well-known that they could outpoll God in their sphere of influence. But what's a test without some cold hard facts? For your consumption, I revved up the Poll-O-Matic 3000 and decided to pose the question with the power of instant and unbelievably accurate polling -- could any random athletes who came to mind beat Aaron Rodgers? My brilliant, groundbreaking, publishing-quality results follow.
Disclaimer: None of these are real polls. At all. They are canon, though.
Manny Pacquiano: 87% approval, 2% disapproval, 11% no opinion (n=242 adults in the Philippines)
Clearly, Manny is hurt by the lack of knowledge the general populace has of boxing. If only he played something popular, like Rugby, or Checkers, or Chess -- then he would truly pass The Rodgers Test.
Manu Ginobili: 85% approval, 7% disapproval, 8% no opinion (n=467 adults in Argentina)
I'm getting word that Manu's 7% disapproval comes from confused Argentinians who thought we were asking about Manchester United. I... whoops. My bad. The Poll-O-Matic has some kinks to be ironed out, Ray Davies style.
David Robinson: 94% approval, 1% disapproval, 5% no opinion (n=145 adults in San Antonio)
I looked at the results for this one. The 1% disapproval comes from David Robinson himself, who gave the interviewer a two hour sermon on how disappointed he would be with himself if he were to ever give himself credit he felt he was not due. It changed the interviewer's life and he converted to Christianity on the spot. Anyway, good job David.
Michael Jordan: 85% approval, 16% "too cool" for an opinion (n=26 hipsters in Chicago)
Wait, what? Poll-O-Matic, what the hell kind of a sample size is that?
Roger Mason Jr.: 1% approval, 84% disapproval, 15% shot themselves immediately (n=40 adults in New York)
As one of our mainstay features, Aaron is writing posts highlighting every single player in the NBA. Role players, superstars, key cogs, or players who are barely as useful as ballboys -- none are exempt from the prying eyes of our readers. Check the index for a lowdown on order, intent, and all that jazz. Today's player is Kevin Durant, a player important and interesting enough to warrant his own long post.
• • •
[007] Durant, Kevin
Originally, this post wasn't really all that long. Durant was actually the fourth player when I originally rolled these out, and his post was about 300 words long, if even that. I didn't really see myself getting through 300+ of these if I wrote long ones back when I started, so I tried to keep my first dozen or so extremely short. Now that I'm going back over them, I'm extending some of the early ones that didn't quite get their due. Durant's up, and he deserves a better post than I wrote before. So let's talk some Durant.
First off, I think it bears repeating that Kevin Durant is 22 years old. That's young, even for basketball players -- there were only 56 players in the league younger than Durant last season, and only 15 starters younger than he is. He may be entering his 5th season, but he's got quite a few good years left. How good? Well, according to Chris Palmer, he's basically the fast track to the hall of fame. After all, a top fiver at the age of 21? Pretty great. Via twitter:
thechrispalmer
Six Best 21-year-olds ever (Revised list): 1. Kareem 2. Kobe 3. LeBron 4. MJ 5. T-Mac 6. @KDTrey5
9 hours ago
Something about this seemed wrong to me, though, after last season. So I looked at the numbers to see where all of them ranked all-time among seasons at the age of 21. Here's a table showing the 10 best 21 year old seasons, by win shares. Perhaps that'll shed some light on why I felt somewhat uneasy with signing on to that.
=========================================================================================
============================ TOP NBA SEASONS BY WS AT AGE 21 ============================
============================================ FG% STATS ========= PER GAME ===============
.................... YEAR ... GS MP ..... FG% 3P% FT% ... PTS TRB AST ... WS/48 .
1 Shaquille O'Neal 1994 ORL 81 3224 .599 .000 .554 29.3 13.2 2.4 0.252 .
2 Kevin Durant 2010 OKC 82 3239 .476 .365 .900 30.1 7.6 2.8 0.238 .
3 LeBron James 2006 CLE 79 3361 .480 .335 .738 31.4 7.0 6.6 0.232 .
4 John Drew 1976 ATL 77 2351 .502 .000 .744 21.6 8.6 1.9 0.216 .
5 Michael Jordan 1985 CHI 82 3144 .515 .173 .845 28.2 6.5 5.9 0.213 .
6 Kobe Bryant 2000 LAL 62 2524 .468 .319 .821 22.5 6.3 4.9 0.202 .
7 Adrian Dantley 1978 TOT 79 2933 .512 .000 .796 21.5 7.8 3.2 0.199 .
8 Andrei Kirilenko 2003 UTA 11 2213 .491 .325 .800 12.0 5.3 1.7 0.199 .
9 Tim Duncan 1998 SAS 82 3204 .549 .000 .662 21.1 11.9 2.7 0.192 .
10 Tracy McGrady 2001 ORL 77 3087 .457 .355 .733 26.8 7.5 4.6 0.189 .
=========================================================================================
First off, the omission of Kareem is no error whatsoever. Kareem didn't play in the NBA at age 21. I suppose you can make the argument that his 1969 UCLA season was worthy of being put on this list, but that's somewhat outside my pay grade, given that he won that title when my father was entering college. And I'm assuming Palmer primarily has him there because he saw 21-year-old Kareem in person. Frankly? Kareem doesn't get enough love. So I'm fine with that. I'm more interested in the players I've seen, so I'm going to glance over Dantley and Drew. First, Durant at #6 is reasonable, if not low. The omission of Shaq and Duncan, both of whom were great on D their first few seasons and single-handedly guided their franchises from irrelevant seasons to fringe contenders, is a bit jarring -- very for Shaq, less so for Duncan, who was amazing (and whose D makes him top 5 or 6 easily) but not quite legendary yet.
Overall, looking simply at age 21 numbers, Durant is perhaps underrated by the stats and team record aspect of his performance -- he had an amazing 2010 season, becoming the youngest scoring leader in history on decent percentages and nigh-legendary free throw form. His defense was lacking, but other than Kobe, so was everyone else on the list. Kobe's defense, by the way, might not really be enough to push him to two -- yes, he won a ring that year, but he only played 62 games because of injury, shot less than 33% on threes, and in general rode beast-mode Shaq's coattails to that particular ring. Not all three, but 2000's title? Yeah. If I had to make my own top five list, after looking at this? I'd still omit Kareem due to my lacking NCAA knowledge and my lack of having seen any footage of Kareem at that age. I'd say the five best 21 year old seasons are Shaq, LeBron, Durant, Jordan, Kobe, Duncan. I didn't watch Jordan's, Shaq's, or Duncan's all that extensively -- but I've seen games from those seasons and I know how they played as they age, and I think I have a reasonably good sense of how those numbers would work with each player's skillset. And that would seem to undermine my general thought that we should stop short of naming Durant our savior. Until we look at the same table for seasons played by 22 year olds, that is.
So now I see it. With the exception of a few players that took stratospheric jumps their sophomore season, these are the players we saw before. This isn't a strict top players list -- the number to the left is their actual rank among all 22 year old seasons. I took out some for readability, and added a differential. For the most part, it's chalk -- Shaq, Kobe, and LeBron all got worse. Duncan was the only member of the top six to get better. Dirk, Rose, Paul and Dwight take pretty huge jumps to enter the top 20. And Durant? Durant got worse, moreso than anyone else on the list. He didn't exactly fall off a cliff -- he was still a star, and he went from a very solid 30-8 with great percentages kind of prime Dirk pure scorer to a 28-7 player who took more shots for less return, turned the ball over more,and didn't improve on defense. Which isn't bad. It's still a franchise table stake. And he led them to within three games of a finals, which is better than the Sonics ever were with Ray Allen. So it's impossible to say he's a BAD player, strictly. His last season, rather, just revealed him to be an incomplete player.
Which leads me to my basic point. We don't really know what Durant is going to show us, yet. His season at 21 was one of the greatest 21 year old seasons in history. There's not much to refute that. But he fell back to the pack last year, hard. His game is primarily built around getting easier shots than most volume scorers due to his height and length. He isn't a great passer, he is a substandard rebounder (though, to be fair, has thus far stepped up his rebounding incredibly in the playoffs, indicating he may just whiff on it in the regular season to conserve energy), and he doesn't have many go-to moves yet. While many of the players with great seasons at 21 had some fallout when they turned 22, Durant's is both more statistically concerning and more noticable when you simply watched him play. He looked like a star, but an incomplete and unfinished one -- whereas he went into the season a serious MVP candidate he left the season as an afterthought. After his lights-out performances for Team USA (which Alex and I discussed in great detail in an earlier blog project) it looked like he was on the fast track to being a legend.
But at the moment, he really isn't one. He's one of the 10 best players in the league, sure, but he's closer to 10 than 1. And the gap between a player like Durant and a player like Dwight or LeBron now looks a lot more massive than most of us are comfortable admitting. The general consensus seems to be that we're a step short of anointing him to the hall of fame. Really? I don't think so. I think he's got a ways to go. And given that he's by all accounts the nicest and most humble superstar the NBA's had since, well, ever? I'll be rooting for him to be a legend. I'll be rooting for him to be Kobe's killer instinct with Dwight's playfulness, LeBron's talent with Dirk's folksy charm. I'll be rooting for Durantula to be as great as we all imagine him to be. But I'd caution you from thinking he's already there. Given how we tend to look at him, it isn't much of a stretch to say that we see Durant only in his possibilities and potential -- his demeanor and his talent demand it so.
But the journey is half the battle, and I'm pretty sure Durant would tell you the same thing.
In celebration of our personal opening night, we're going to try the good try to make up for the NBA's lack of one. We're going to make it up to you by posting three full classics of NBA matchups of the teams that WOULD have been playing on opening night, if the season's schedule hadn't been scrapped. Here's game #3: a reprisal of a rivalry so old that few fans remember it existed.
This matchup is the Hakeem Rockets versus the Stockton-Malone Jazz, this time for all the marbles. And there were a lot of marbles: Yes, their only 90s titles came from the Spurs and the Rockets. But the Western Conference also included two of the greatest Finals runner-ups in the history of the game in the 1997 and 1998 Jazz, two teams featuring all-time centers, some great Portland teams, the Barkley Suns, and some amazing Sonics teams. In short: quite a few marbles, even if Jordan kept them from winning the rings to show for the marbles they had in abundance. This metaphor is getting confusing. Let's watch some hoops. This post is formatted like a retroactive liveblog. Simmons-style.*
*We have nothing else in common with Bill Simmons...Well, except all these footnotes.
This retro-liveblog begins at the half, because this is somewhat hard to coordinate, and it's our first time doing this. We're also very wordy. A four-quarter liveblog would most likely be all too long to be read by anyone. As is, it's a bit much. But hopefully you can find something out of it anyway. Read on!
THIRD QUARTER (Time is in time remaining)
12:00 - Coming out of the half, the Jazz came in with a magical lead -- they got a three off Jeff Hornacek making a great play to get off the shot with less than 0.7 seconds left, and in fact left the game on a 10-0 run. It's pretty incredible watching the Jazz at full speed. And then, immediately coming off the half? Hakeem seems to get injured. That's not good. No, my green-texted friend, it is not. That's Alex, by the way. It's not easy being green, but somebody has to do it.
7:32 - Turns out Hakeem's injury was only a funny bone thing. We got the diagnosis from Utah's designated "funny bone guru." I love the Delta Center. Hornacek the last few minutes makes me think that any player in the history of the league could've put up 200 assists per game in John Stockton's place. He's making some fucking insane shots. Yeah. Also, Jeff Hornacek looks like Data. Antoine Carr looks like Geordi Laforge with his visor. I guess Sloan looks like... Patrick Stewart, yeah... But who would Worf be?<Six paragraphs omitted> Yeah...we don't have to add this all to the live-blog, I think.
3:09 - The Big Men are starting to take over, even more than they already have been. Most of the offense is going through Hakeem or Malone either as starters or as finishers. In a memorable sequence, Hakeem made a beautiful full-court outlet to Kenny Smith, who was stripped right under the basket and recovered by Malone for a 20-second T. Malone has been showing his knack for cross-court passes through double-teams and his impeccable patience and timing that allows him to draw infuriating fouls in the midrange. As Drexler's sweet shot fades (the curse of the rhythm shooter), Hakeem is continuing to demonstrate his mastery of the midrange jumper that - along with his amazing footwork, defense, and passing abilities - made him so dominant for this stretch. Both Malone and Hakeem are getting to the line a good deal - announcer points out Dream's elbow as a possible factor in Hakeem's passivity. At one point Olajuwon missed a rebound and the Jazz eventually got 1-2 Malone FTs on the second chance. On the next possession (where we are now). _Malone just set up Hornacek on a beautiful cut for a dunk. The Jazz are opening a solid 8-point lead almost literally on the differential between Malone and Hakeem in this period._
1:51 - So, Utah is actually beginning to take a huge lead at this point -- Rockets haven't made a field goal in almost four minutes, and the Jazz are getting whatever they want. Things are looking rather grim here for the defending champs. No threes are going down. So the Rockets finally wake up and feed Hakeem, who beats up Antoine Carr with a great fake and spin, but his basket is ruled out as a foul. Didn't matter much, as the Rockets beat their slide with some free throws. Ballin'. The Jazz offense follows with a BRUTAL possession, but like many Jazz possessions in the 90s, it didn't matter in the least, as Karl Malone makes a brilliant rainbow J and renders the preceding offensive incompetence completely irrelevant. I read somewhere that Hakeem would often begin his drop step in midair, so he could get an extra spin on opponents. Watch the move right here for an example of that -- the basket is waved off, but he manages to dropstep in midair while catching it, and spins without traveling. This is amazing. Prime Hakeem is seriously unfair, when he's on.
0:00 - Okay, dude, this is absurd. Apparently the Rockets have gotten only two points from their bench at this point of the game. Literally three quarters in with only a deuce from the bench? That's... wow. Unfathomable. I mean, I've watched this game, and I have no idea how that happened. Partly it's because Rudy didn't go strong to the bench. And partly it's because, I mean, shit -- their bench is horrible and is completely shrinking from this game. Thoughts, my greenly feathered friend? None. I'm still stuck on Hakeem's move at about 40 seconds where he caught the ball in the middle of four defenders and still made the bucket. That's a Shaq/Duncan move. That's insane. Yeah, uh, as you said before -- literally unfair. Still. The Rockets bench has two points, Hakeem and Drexler have combined for 50 in three quarters. The Jazz have 71 to the Rockets' 64. And I honestly have no idea how the Rockets are going to go about trying to win this game. Yet. The Jazz are pretty thoroughly outclassing them, though they aren't up as much as they should be.
FOURTH QUARTER
10:27 - Oh. That's how. Drexler just made a few clutch free throws, then after a similarly awful offensive possession for the one I mentioned earlier from Malone, the Rockets just chuck it to Hakeem. Who proceeds to brutalize two defenders and make an incredibly tricky over-strong bank shot that had to be aimed perfectly or it wouldn't have had a shot at going in at all. Hits nothing but net. Life is easier when you have one of the greatest centers of all time on your team, it appears. Rockets now only down five. There's an exit strategy possible, now. They just need to pretend there are only two players on the floor on the offensive end.
9:44 - Malone has 16 ft attempts. He's not a bad free throw shooter, but I'm starting to think hack a Shaq should be Malone's namesake. Because it seems like the Rockets simply give up on all attempts at letting Malone beat them from the field at some point. Also, a Miller Draft Genuine Playoff Moment. This is so surreal.. I... I don't even know what to say about that. You have to see it to understand. I don't get why this was shown. I don't get why I'm alive. I simply do not understand. Nor do I. Antoine Carr is inexplicably beasting right now. _Make that Geordi Laforge, Ensign. _That was fucking terrible. Noted. (Alex: I'll just leave this here)
8:03 - Can you even call timeout in midair anymore? I don't think so, but even if you can, who the hell would do that anymore? Manu has to be the only one, I'd think.
6:22 - Totally unrelated, unnecessary aside -- Mario Elie was hilarious on the 1999 Spurs - The Spurs consisted of all these intellectuals and enigmatic cast-offs, and Mario Elie called them out midseason, saying, "I never get my daps from them. We never chest-bump. I've never been on a team that chest-bumps so little.," which is only a mild paraphrase. Anyway, since he's on the Rockets and he's not named Hakeem, he's... a 3-point dagger shooter that can swing the ball around the perimeter well. Yeah. This whole Rockets team style is reminiscent of the 2009 Orlando Magic, just with a better array of chuckers and a better staple player. Don't forget, though, Elie was money in the playoffs back in 94.
5:18 - Hornacek is the Icarus of the impossible. He goes way too close to impossibility and burns in mid-airball._I don't know what that means, but I'm pretty sure I agree with you. 82-75 Jazz, currently. Hakeem misses two huge free throws. Big problems for the Rockets -- they have time to get back into the game, but they need to stop giving up Hornacek threes and... oh god... are they playing the Rocky music??? Oh my god, I think I'm in love with the Delta Center. Someone help me. I refuse. Still. Both teams have turned to a penetration and kick-out game. Of course, when your frontcourts feature Karl Malone or Hakeem Olajuwon, that's not so much of a change as you might think. You know, because they can both penetrate and hit midrange shots. Kind of physical freaks, really._
3:50 - I'm 90% sure that the Jazz arena is simply 100% devoted to erasing beautiful Olajuwon shots. He's made at least 5 shots this game that were somewhat unremarkably removed from the record by the refs, replaced with free throws he has quite a bit more trouble with. Still. Very annoying. Hakeem makes some pressure shots regardless, followed by Drexler going nuts and getting full-court. This is pretty fucking awesome. Also, Hakeem puts in so much more than is recorded in the box score. It's too bad so much of it is disqualified by fouls marginally assessed before the fact.
2:31 - Benoit has had the last 4 shots for the Jazz. In a related story, the Jazz have put virtually nothing on the board in those offensive possessions, and are sitting on a 3 minute scoring drought. Hm. I wonder if there's some connection between the Jazz not getting the ball to any of their good offensive players and their offense suddenly vanishing. How strange. Drexler makes a clutch free throw, then misses one. The Jazz are up one. They are playing "Surfin' U.S.A." on their PA system. The Delta Center is my new true love. Sorry Kathryn. Surfin' U.S.A. being the infamous Beach Boys rip-off of Choke Berry. The Jazz are choking, is what I'm trying to convey here.
1:51 - Stockton takes an awful shot -- he's been absolutely brutal this game. Rockets suddenly have the lead, and suddenly, Hakeem makes a tough fadeaway to put the Rockets up 3. With how the Jazz are scoring, that may be insurmountable. Yuk yuk yuk. Just as I say that, Malone finally gets the ball in a position to score and does so over Hakeem's great defense. Game isn't quite over yet.
1:03 - ARE YOU KIDDING ME DID THEY JUST ERASE ANOTHER HAKEEM SHOT.
0:42 - Hakeem is just dominating every possession for the Rockets. Malone hit a clutch turnaround over Hakeem, but technically I don't think you can call it clutch if you choked to make it necessary. Still, it was a nice shot. Almost as good as one of the last 5 Hakeem possessions. Robert Horry tackled John Stockton on the next possession. Wait. I mean Hornacek. Yeah. That was Hornacek. I realize he looks like a tall, old, disturbing Stockton... but a man's gotta have his standards, dogg.
0:15 - Suddenly, Rockets up 4. Then... a Malone three? What the fuck kind of a crunch time play was this? I don't mind the Stockton-Malone Jazz, but dear god. They played like champions up until the 7 minute mark of the fourth. Suddenly, they became a completely incompetent broken team that couldn't do a damn thing. This is just absurd. They draw a foul and make both shots -- but now there's only 15 seconds left. The exact same thing happened with the Mavericks over the Jazz in 2001. Absolute choke. I mean, yes, they're facing legendary offensive players in both cases. But come on, their offense completely falls apart. It's not like their offense should be affected either way by clutch. They do pick and rolls and penetrations, both with a lot of options. Sloan had them practice their offensive positioning thousands of times. He is legendary for that. Did he plant a time bomb in Karl Malone? Does he secretly hate Karl Malone?
0:09 - Okay. Game over. Jazz have 87, Rockets have 92. Realize that the number was 82-75 less than 6 minutes ago. The Rockets closed the game with 17 points, the Jazz 5. That's pretty, uh, awful. And I don't like piling on from our last points, but the time bomb thing is exactly what comes to mind. Stockton is great at running an offense, and Sloan is a great coach, but Malone and Stockton simply seem to fall apart at the end of games -- WHY, though? I have no idea. I don't even have a reasonable theory.
0:06 - As if to mock me, the Jazz make a miracle three to make things interesting.
0:00 - ... and promptly lose the game. Goodnight, sweet Jazz. Lost by 3, in the end. Fought a good fight, too. Apparently, Barkley believes that the Suns can't beat the Rockets in a seven-game series. I guess he's not even a role model....for compulsive gamblers! Ah ha ha ha....(the Suns of course lost to the Rockets, who won the title that year). (Alex: I'm such a zany humorist).
Conclusion (Alex):
No one can question the physical toughness of John Stockton and Karl Malone. For the much better part of two decades they had arguably the best conditioning in the league. They played despite Stockton's occasional horrible injuries (he sprained his ankle in the first quarter of this very game and later fell down from a slight screen). He played spot minutes with the Dream Team despite a broken leg. Malone endured the slings and arrows of the post for twenty years. Yet in this, possibly their most important game to date (Malone in the first half calls it "the most important game for the franchise") they played high-caliber, if-not-brilliant-then-brilliantly-effective basketball that was creative on individual and collective levels. And then, seven minutes before they were to take on the '95 Suns for their trouble, Stockton and Malone - for all their brilliance and conditioning - collapsed like balsa wood in ugly offense that shined a light on mediocre defense. There is no obvious explanation for this - and they've done this before with leads: completely choked offensively against superior offenses right at the end of the game. It's just kind of strange, I guess: The only reason we question their mental toughness specifically is because their physical toughness is so axiomatic.
For the Rockets, not much more need be said: Hakeem's dominance in this series on both ends would blossom even further in a staggering march through the West and then against the Magic as Houston held the throne for one more year. Thanks for reading and watching along on the opening day that wasn't - but was still just as time-consuming and interesting for those of us here at the Gothic Ginobili.
In celebration of our opening night, we're going to try the good try to make up for the NBA's lack of one. We're going to try and make it up to you by posting three full classics of NBA matchups of the teams that WOULD have been playing on opening night, if the season's schedule hadn't been scrapped. Here's game #2: the chill zombies of Seattle vs a star-studded Lakers team.
When I noticed that OKC was playing on the opening night that was not to be, I had a short debate with Alex as to whether we should restrict our search for games in the last few years where the franchise was actually in OKC (and games from when the Hornets were in OKC) or just open ourselves up to Seattle in hopes of using some actual classic games. It didn't take all that long for us to decide we'd extend our search. After all, what kind of a classic is a 2010 playoff game, really? Nonetheless. The game we have for you may not actually feature OKC, but it's still a pretty great one -- it has a still-rookie Magic, a still-spry Kareem, a still-ballin Dennis Johnson, and a still-underrated Gus Johnson. It also was the clinching game of the eastern conference finals, with Kareem doing what Kareem did in clinching situations.
Click the jump to watch the full game on Youtube (credit to lakeptic), with my "expert" commentary.
When the game begins, the first anachronism lies in the announcing team -- namely, that it includes Bill Russell. And don't get me wrong. This is a great game. For the basketball, yes, but most of all for the fact that Bill Russell is part of the announcing team. I mean. Really. I can't overstate this. You have Bill Russell, doing color for a clinching game in the old LA forum. Really. Is he good? Not really, in the usual sense of the word. Though he's entertaining, witty, and soft-spoken -- not necessarily what you'd usually expect out of a color guy, but for some reason, it works. I don't think it'd work for any other commentator, but for Bill Russell? It just works. Hearing him compare every other Kareem play to something he did is pretty hilarious, too, and overall it's a worthy try as a big-game commentator. I wouldn't watch an old game just to watch, say, Kevin Harlan (a tried and true murderer (not really)) commentate, but I can't say I would be opposed to watching an old game simply to watch Bill Russell commentate it. He brings something to the games most color guys don't in this day and age. And that's worth something.
It's also worth something to stare longingly at his tendency to give the Lakers literally zero credit for anything they succeed at doing on the court -- the game begins, on this note, with Russell essentially predicting that the Lakers will lose the series if they lose tonight's game, despite holding a 3-1 series lead, because "Seattle can't be beat at home" (Russ: Seattle had already lost two games at home in THIS SERIES) and "anyone can win a game seven" (Russ: YOU NEVER LOST A GAME SEVEN IN YOUR LIFE YOU ARE THE SINGLE LEAST LIKELY PERSON TO SAY THAT). It's kind of hilarious. Also hilarious is the awkward attempts the other announcers make at talking with him -- he clearly is not comfortable with them and dislikes them. A lot.
So, actual basketball time.
You know the showtime Lakers. But the Sonics? Who are they? For lack of a better word, they're an incredibly scrappy team. The team you see here are the defending NBA champions despite having only one HoF player in an aging Dennis Johnson, and few particularly generation-defining players beyond him. They hawk the passing lanes quite well, and they take full advantage of Magic's occasional over-passing. They're GREAT at penetrating, and their offensive sets use every player on the floor -- the difference in styles between these Lakers and these Sonics is huge. Whereas the Sonics play a five man offense where you don't know who's going to be scoring (though Gus Johnson is a strong "the world is falling apart and we need a basket" option, for this game only), the Lakers essentially give Magic and Kareem the ball on every possession and give them the levity do something with it -- the other players on the floor are, for this year, little more than agents to catch passes, take shots, and establish pivots.
On that subject: Kareem is amazing in this game. Absolutely splendid. His fight on the boards, his offense, his shot blocking -- it's great. He had 3 blocks in the first 7 minutes, seriously. It's hard to find fault with Kareem's game, too much. He dominates on offense, runs the Lakers' offense, and runs up the floor like a gazelle. He had some great weakside blocks, some great pocket passes, and multiple "only Kareem could do that" type shots. But given the way I composed this paragraph so far, there's a caveat. And it's rather big. It's his defense. Honestly, it isn't nearly as good as I was expecting. Despite his legendary blocking ability, the Sonics were getting virtually anything they wanted inside. As it turns out, if Kareem doesn't block your shot, he doesn't even try to contest it. He's a great shot blocker, so that's still a relatively valuable contribution, but his general intangibles on defense are honestly pretty poor. He uses his size poorly on defense, and gets caught sleeping on defense way, way too often.
And LA's other defenders? All pretty poor. Seattle took advantage of LA's poor interior defense all night long, first by faking out Kareem and then by taking advantage of a two-cut strategy -- one Seattle player would cut into the lane, the LA bigs would all collapse on them, then while they were out of position because they were ball-watching, another guard would cut in, recieve the ball, and either get an open shot for himself or one of his teammates. It seemed like almost every play of the first half featured some variation on this whenever the Sonics were having any trouble getting an open shot -- even Bill Russell commented on it, as well he should. The problem? The Lakers were infinitely more talented than the Sonics, and cut their (reasonably good) defensive schemes to shreds on the other end simply with Magic and Kareem (easily the best player on the 1980 team, no offense to Magic) outworking and outhustling every Sonics defender. There are some benefits to having two all-time players on your team. Even though their defense was, again, pretty poor.
Perhaps the best play to demonstrate the Lakers' general malaise on the defensive end is this gem -- here, Magic throws an absolutely spot-on fully guarded cross court pass to Kareem, resulting in a surprisingly not wide-open (but open enough) jam for Kareem. Instead of rushing back on D, or cutting off the pass, Kareem throws his arms up and entices the crowd to cheer louder. The Sonics take advantage of Kareem ignoring them to throw an unguarded cross halfcourt pass, which is immediately flung to a cutting Sonic. This tends to summarize the defensive style of the Showtime Lakers pre-Worthy -- borderline GOAT play on offense, distracted and disinterested defense as they struggle to do basic defensive tasks like "pay any attention at all." Or "apply a modicum of focus to preventing the cutter from entering the lane." Or "full court anything."
But really? This team had Magic entering his prime, Kareem still in his, and a borderline decent supporting cast. What the hell else was going to happen this game? The Sonics were a good team. DJ is a hall of fame player. But while they were a good defensive team, no defensive-oriented team short of "all-time great team starring Moses Malone or Hakeem Olajuwon" was going to deny Magic and Kareem when they were both in prime playoff form. The only way you were going to beat the Showtime Lakers was by having players who could outscore Kareem and Magic and shutting down the Lakers' tertiary pieces. The second wasn't hard to do. The first? Come on, now.
Long story short? Alex got the brew, I got the chronic depression. Also, the Lakers beat the SuperSonics.
Tim Duncan: Hey, you guys, I'm so angry! Guess who I am! Richard Jefferson: You're Tim Duncan. TD: Oh gosh. Heh. Yes, Richard, but who am I pretending to be for Halloween? RJ: If I didn't know better, I'd say Kevin Garnett. Given that you're obviously wearing his uniform and attempting to scowl constantly. _TD:_ Hey, you got it right! Richard, throw that gym mat and the duct tape over here. RJ: Wait, what? Why? Don't wrestle me, old man. TD: I need to complete the costume with a stanchion attached to my face. RJ: Oh, heh. That's pretty funny, actually. Okay, "Kevin". Here's the "stanchion".
RJ throws the gym mat to Tim. Then he throws the roll of duct tape. Tim slams it back at his face with a bestial yell.
• • •
RJ (livid): What the hell, Tim? That really kind of hurt. Get it yourself! Last time I try to help a man dressed as Kevin Garnett. TD: Sorry, RJ. I got a little wrapped up in the character. You know how Kevin blocks those dead-ball shots... RJ: Whatever. Keep your character in check. I just hope to God we don't run into any ballboys or autograph-seekers... this is embarrassing. TD: Sorry, RJ. RJ: Just don't let it happen again, please. This was such a bad idea. You actually invest yourself into these characters, don't you? TD: Yeah, you could say that. I am Will Hunting, you know, I studied psychol-- RJ: No. We're not talking about this anymore. Anyway, uh, we got everything for the party? TD: Let's see, we got proximity mines, sticky grenades, we got Magnum .44s, we got Golden Guns... yeah, I'd say we're ready. I just need to load the, uh, pump. RJ: ... were those just weapons you remember from Goldeneye, Tim? TD: To be honest, those are the only weapons I'm familiar with. I'm starting to think that I wasn't cut out for this costume... RJ: ... well, seriously, did you bring everything? TD: I think we're just on the hook for punch, chips, and an N64 for playing Goldeneye. So yeah. Let's go.
Tim shoves RJ in the shoulder and then points indignantly at RJ as he backs away.
TD: Wasn't that just like him? Haha. He's done that so many times. __RJ: You know what? Executive decision, I'm going to drive. You just go sit in the back seat. Now.
TD: __Alright, Richard.
RJ: In the meantime, while I'm driving, I want you to think about how you can do this KG impression...without alienating everyone in the Spurs organization. These characters are supposed to be fun, and you seem more interested in, you know, playing Kevin like this is a biography or a Christian Bale movie or something. Just think about how you can do this, Tim. And don't call Daniel Day Lewis. Deal? TD: It's a deal.
20 Minutes Later
RJ: Well, here we are. The Spurs' Halloween get-together. _TD:_ I figured out how to do it! RJ: What, you mean how you're going to pass as a reasonable human being while dressed as Kevin Garnett in uniform? TD: Well, yeah, but I mean, I figured out how to be an unaccountable prick with no class. I figured out how he must justify it in his head. RJ: ... wait, uh, Tim. TD: Okay, it goes like this: You know how in the Matrix the Agents say "There are levels of existence we're willing to accept."? Well, that's how KG treats class and accountability: Not as basic parts of the human condition, but as variables that can be tuned as low as possible if necessary. There are levels of class he's willing to accept. Very low levels. RJ: Okay. Look. He's probably just a jerk. You're overthinking his character. Like, can you even picture KG sitting through the Matrix trilogy? I'm not saying he'd fall asleep, but it doesn't really seem like it's up his alley. He's not exactly a philosopher. He probably just doesn't like to help his opponents feel comfortable. I mean, what, you think he watched Raging Bull before he punched his teammate that one time? You think he watches Annie Hall before trying to figure out what makes the opposing point guards tic? Maybe this is how you could play him, but it sure as hell is not how he is. TD: Wow...you're probably right. By the way, probably the best thing I could do is just changing my costume to Bill Russell. RJ: Oh, because same team and number, I got it! That's great. But what do you want to do about the stanchion? TD: I was thinking it could be the weight of cultural segregation against him. RJ: Tim... maybe you should just lose the stanchion. TD: My name is Bill, or Mr. Russell, and I'll thank you to remember it. And I can't just forget the stanchion, Richard. Not after- RJ: Tim, I don't care how good our Goldeneye session is. This is already the worst Halloween of my adult life.
_In celebration of our opening night, we're trying to make up for the NBA's current lack of a scheduled opening night. We're going to try and make it up to you by posting three full NBA matchups of the teams that WOULD have been playing on opening night, if the season's schedule hadn't been scrapped. Here's game #1: the defending champion Mavs face off against the ECF Bulls, 90s style. Except in 1996, with the Bulls the champs and the Mavs, well, pretty far away from any sort of conference finals. They've got Jason Kidd, though! _
Pity Jason Kidd and the Dallas Mavericks. Sure, their stirring, amazing championship this year may have finally vindicated the careers of Rick Carlisle, Dirk Nowitzki, Shawn Marion, Mark Cuban, and Kidd himself. But no amount of titles could ever wash off the taint of the team's performance in the 1990s. The Dallas Mavericks never broke .500 in a season starting in the decade. Their win totals - ordered by increasing levels of atrocity - were 40, 36, 28, 26, 24, 22, 20, 19, 13, 11 from 1990-91 to 1999-00.* The Mavericks were 15 years old in 1996 (and had even had quite a few good runs with Mark Aguirre), but seemed like the oldest expansion franchise in the league at this point - a total joke, filled with one superstar destined to leave soon (Jason Kidd) and two 17th-team All-NBA players (Jim Jackson, Jamal Mashburn [who actually suffered a season-ending injury about 18 games into 1996]). Can you even imagine rooting for the Mavs right in the middle of that awful decade? I can't, in all honesty.
*As a math major I have to note that they have every even number between 20 and 28 wins, inclusive, like they were playing a drinking game of mediocrity. The Mavs were 239-549 (.303) for the decade, a .303 winning percentage, which comes out to about a 25-win season, on average. Damn.
But to their credit, the Mavericks filled legendary Reunion Arena with dedicated supporters for their awful team. For the early regular season game we'll be covering, no fewer than five world-class athletes showed up. All - as I understand it - are top 10 all-time at their positions: Roger Staubach (former Cowboys QB), Michael Johnson (sprinter), Michael Irvin (wide reciever), Emmitt Smith (running back), and Deion Sanders (cornerback).* And even the Fucking Mayor of Dallas. Wow! All of them showed up to root their home team on (if they don't win, it's a shame!). The likes of Deion Sanders saw the high-flying trio of young Mavs' stars: sophomore PG star Jason Kidd, Jim Jackson at his absolute peak, and the always-sizzling Jamal Mashburn. Or, as they called themselves, Triple J (sounds like a radio station)!
*Missing were Nolan Ryan, Future Dirk Nowitzki, Tom Landry, and Holger Geschwinder.
It was obvious just from watching that Michael Jordan, Scottie Pippen, Phil Jackson and the rest of the 1996 Chicago Bulls had a heck of a time mentally coping with the powerful support (ecstatic at times) for the good old 1996 Dallas Mavericks in the legendary Reunion Arena. And Triple J didn't disappoint, combining for an amazing 64 points on just 64 shots!
Part 1:
Being serious: For Dallas, Jason Kidd put up a rather incredible (and characteristic) 25-15-11-6 (8 offensive rebounds, Jesus.) on a kind of bad 22 shots, but like, look at that statline, seriously. He's a point guard! Like, he got 7 defensive rebounds, in addition to 8 offensive rebounds! Only 3 turnovers as the only Maverick with a really good handle! He did everything in this game, and it was possibly more impressive to watch than the statline suggests. Time after time, the Bulls perimeter defense would cover Kidd's passing target well, so he'd reset and find a better shot, then he'd rebound it if the shot didn't go in. He even shot the trey pretty well (2-6, but...well, you'll see). Every single possession Kidd would motor around on offense and defense, and do it efficiently. Say what you will about his apparent character (the less said, the better), but I can understand why he topped the polls of "smartest player in the league". Absolute tour de force. Jamal Mashburn was never an efficient player in his long career (his peak seemed to be a decent, starter-quality 22-6-6 on 42% and some floor spacing), but in this game he was a fun player to watch, with a lot of agility, apparent effort, and leaping ability. Monster Mash seemed like kind of a chucker in this game, honestly, but I mean, on the 1996 Mavericks? Unless he was always passing up a shot for Jason Kidd to reset or something, Mash probably should have just taken the shot every time. When Mashburn had the ball and a reasonable chance at the hoop, he was practically obligated to shoot. And he seemed like a living matchup problem at the 3, even if he wasn't especially skilled. Mash had a few swag drop-steps in the post, and definitely was a competent wide receiver for Jason Kidd when Kidd made an Ender's Game, five-steps-ahead-of-anyone-else sort of alley-oop.
The surprise of this game is that Dallas demolished Chicago on the boards in this game 66-50, winning 32-12 on offensive caroms (Dallas had4 players in double-figure rebounds, and two more with 5). The Mavericks, in addition to having a dominating presence on the boards, also showed surprising acumen at passing when the legendary Bulls defense actually closed in on them in the second half. The Mavs didn't play great ball (considering their team, how could they, really?), but thanks to Kidd and their team rebounding, they really put themselves in a position to win with what they had. To be fair to the Bulls, they weren't near full strength: Dennis Rodman suffered a monthlong injury that lasted most of November (one of many weird facts about the 72-win Bulls). Rodman just got inducted into the HOF a couple months ago, and he absolutely deserved the honor: The Bulls' frontcourt was Rodman as a historically great rebounding and defensive force. As laughable as the claim is that Rodman was the most important player on the '96-98 Bulls (though he is a unique and truly great player), the way the roster was structured, he may have been the most irreplaceable Bulls player.
You see, the way the Bulls were constructed, losing Rodman meant losing 90% of his contributions. This isn't like when fans of all 30 teams today moan occasionally about wanting an agile seven footer that can defend and rebound (it seems so easy to get one!). No, Rodman was precisely what the Bulls were missing, qualitatively and quantitatively. Look at the numbers: Rodman got 14.9 rpg in 1996. Their next best rebounders that season were...Jordan and Pippen at about 6 apiece. Then came their starting center Luc Longley at 5 rpg, even though Rodman was playing far better defense than Longley: In addition to his infamous rep as an enforcer, Rodman won the DPOY (twice!), had unimaginably solid conditioning (he was 37 when the Bulls won in 1998), and the same gifts that made him a great rebounder (tenacity, endurance, predictive vision, lateral quickness, unpredictable blunt motions like hops) were also perfect for man and help defense. Furthermore, next to Longley, Rodman was only marginally less efficient at offense (same efficiency stats basically, but Longley got about twice as many touches). In about 6 more mpg, Rodman got about 3 times as many rebounds as Longley. Without Rodman they didn't have anyone that could consistently dominate on the glass (though both Pippen and Jordan were occasional double-double/triple-double threats, of course). Similarly on defense, while they had three great wing defenders in Pippen, Jordan, and Ron Harper*, Rodman was their only great inside presence. Longley, the infamous Croatian "prospect" Toni Kukoc, Jason Caffey, Bill Wennington? Yeah, all role players in the final tally. The Bulls without Rodman were a missing team. They weren't a 72-win team.
*The Bulls set the best half-court traps in all of basketball.
Part 2:
And yet, the Bulls without Rodman were not a bad team. They were a great team, in fact: Michael Jordan was hitting his final peak as an athlete, built around still-great driving ability, mental toughness, and an unguardable fadeaway (and generally, an amazing one-on-one arsenal and a much-improved jumper) that I am required by law as a blogger to tie into Kobe Bryant somehow. It's a cliche, but Jordan was honestly the brilliant assassin that his legendary personality dictated and that his athletic gifts often belied. Strange to say, but if anyone was truly athletically amazing in the Dallas game, it was Scottie Pippen (or Jason Kidd). What's really weird is that MJ's scoring was still very high and efficient in 1996 (30.4 per on .495 FG% and .427 3P%) but the points were often so easily gotten and difficult to defend that even if you were watching him, you could miss his insane scoring numbers. You could never mistake his level of production watching him in a 1991 45 point performance or his "God" game in 1986. But - similar to Tim Duncan's production throughout his career - late Jordan would often put in 7 in each of the first three quarters and 10 in the fourth and end up with 31 on 20 shots before you knew what was happening, no homecourt advantage or superstar calls needed. I mean, of course there were a few "how in God's name did he do that?" moments that only Jordan could have pulled off (can't wait to get this video up, seriously), but even so, Jordan scored more than 35 points, and it's a total shocker to hear. He somehow drops 17 in the second quarter, only 4 of which are conspicuous.
Unlike Jason Kidd, Pippen didn't quite get a triple-double in this game. However, his game was possibly more impressive and well-rounded. It was a great performance. Pippen got a 26-12-7 with 1 steal and 5 blocks, with just 3 turnovers. He also got the 26 points on 19 shots (not super-efficient, but better than Kidd). Now, Pippen didn't quite have the "_only good player" responsibility that Jason Kidd had, but on the other hand, Pippen also wasn't the statistical beneficiary of being the only good player on his team. When your team is filled with inefficient shooters and you get 11 assists, that's pretty impressive, but Kidd also got 8 offensive rebounds partially because his team didn't _expect to hit 50% of their shots ("We're not a 50% team," Mavs coach Dick Motta said at halftime, "But we're not a 35% team, either."). And as impressive as 6 steals is, Pippen got 1 steal and 5 blocks (none of them cheap perimeter swats), as a small forward.* Insane. Against an inferior Mavs wing defense (at best, they had an undersized Jason Kidd on Jordan), Jordan got a lot of unassisted baskets - and yet Pippen managed to find 7 assists. At one point in the first half, the Mavs were swarming Pippen: They had taken Michael as a given and were moving on to Scottie in a futile attempt to mitigate him.
*Small observation: A lot of blocks seem to happen when the offensive player makes a really formulaic counter-move switching from side to side in the paint. This is one reason I love when little guards use the "Eurostep," the "Dream Shake," and ball fakes in the paint. It's hilarious when it works (like when big linebackers make interceptions) and it's forced by the competitive structure of the game: The defensive player has established himself as good enough to block the standard layup, and the standard counter-moves like hand switches and turns.
And, oh man, so much of this game was brilliant transition offense and defense - as if Kidd, Pippen, and Jordan collectively signed a contract to make this game as fun and competitively possible in which they (and Ron Harper, guest star of Kenan & Kel this one time) were the only great players. You really have to see some of these plays. I'll try to get my highlight reel up, but this really is a vintage Jordan-Pippen-Kidd game - and you have to wonder how many people even saw it besides Kelly Dwyer and the Mayor of Dallas.
Maybe it wasn't so bad to be a fan of the Mavs after all.
Hey, everybody! Tonight designates the official unveiling of The Gothic Ginobili, the premier basketblog about hoopsketball on the internet. This is primarily because there is nobody else who calls themselves a "basketblog" and hoopsketball is not actually a sport that exists. The NBA has cheated us out and refused us the sanctity of our beacon league's opening night, so we're trying to fill the gap by making our opening night a spectacular simulation of the actual opening night. In doing so, we'll be reposting three great full classic basketball games between the matchups the NBA robbed us of from the night, some fun features, and enough content to entertain any depressed NBA fan who comes across us tonight.
Here's the starting five for tonight's content, with all times in ET.
8:00 PM: Chicago vs Dallas, 1996 -- a regular season game where MJ and Pippen run roughshod on a bad Mavs team propped up by an impossibly good young Jason Kidd. Presented by Alex.
8:45 PM: The Worst Halloween Ever -- a story about Tim Duncan's failed attempt at dressing up as a psychopath for Halloween, completely foiled by the sad fact that Tim Duncan can actually read. Presented by Alex.
9:45 PM: Lakers vs Supersonics, 1980 -- game 5 of the 1980 Western Conference finals, where a young Kareem shows off how unstoppable he was at his prime while simultaneously demonstrating why the pre-Worthy 80s Lakers were nowhere near as good as the 90s Bulls despite having two top 10 players in the history of the human race. Presented by Aaron.
11:00 PM: Utah vs Houston, 1995 -- a playoff matchup between two bitter rivals in a rivalry nobody seems to remember existed. Hakeem vs Malone. Stockton vs Drexler. Texas vs Utah. Rick Perry vs Mitt Romney. Wait, not that last one, belay that. Presented in a retro-liveblog by both Alex and Aaron.
11:30 PM: Player Capsule #7, Kevin Durant -- To end the night, an example of what happens when I get far, far too in depth with a player capsule. Long story short: they turn into advanced scouting reports, legacy considerations, and reflections that totally go beyond the scope of the project. Not like I don't enjoy writing them, though. Presented by Aaron.
Glad you could join us. Hope you like what you see, and hope you chance to stick around!
-- The Gothic Ginobili staff (AKA Alex, Aaron, and the mop in Aaron's closet)
Joe Posnanski will use every detail in this picture - including Joe Posnanski (left) - to disprove the viability of the intentional walk
As a recurring feature, Alex will be reviewing and analyzing various blogs and hoops sites. No number ratings or anything silly like that, just a good overview of the sites at hand with their strengths, weaknesses, etc. To see an index of previously reviewed sites, click here.
On a chilly day before dawn, I love a greatessay or a shortstory. I just love that feeling when the piece ends, you know, when your neck shudders a little bit and you're the only one awake and the sky gets a little brighter? I don't care if the piece ends with fire or with insight - it ends with something meaningful, and something meaningful opens up in me. The heat of the sun gets my cold wet arms a little drier and warmer. I feel like I own the new day, and I see clearly what is real and earnest in life for awhile, and I see a little bit further ahead in my life. I just love that feeling. That's why today - just before dawn here - I want to talk about Joe Posnanski. But first I want to talk about Michael Jordan.
====
His Airness demonstrates his infamous
"Mockery of Tai Chi" dunk.
I don't know the path to greatness. I wish I did. It seems like you have to visualize an ideal and make your every choice in the shadow of that ideal. But I don't know, because even the great paths aren't so inevitable from the start. Michael Jordan may seem like destiny's child in retrospect - the unstoppable forward momentum of a singular champion. But nothing about 1998, 1996, 1986, 1989, or 1993, was so inevitable and historic in the moment. He was, sure, the heir apparent to Bird/Magic. But Bird's back broke down, Magic got HIV, and Len Bias overdosed. He was, sure, the best player in basketball for a decade. But his rise to prominence symbiotically coincided with the global rise of the NBA brand. He was, sure, the leader of two historic threepeats. But Ralph Sampson's back gave out, Portland chose Sam Bowie, and Jerry Krause and Phil Jackson brought the inscrutable Rodman to Chicago. Jordan's rise was a product of circumstance, and far from inevitable. Bill Simmons - following America at large - has his Alpha Dogs that win every game that matters and hit every shot that matters, but even a cursory study.of basketball history suggests that innumerable choices, literal lotteries, and economic realities guide what we in hindsight call fate.
Even though - or heck, precisely because - I believe this, I hold a lot of special reverence for Jordan. The world expected and demanded Jordan to take the lead as a showman and a winner every night - and every night Jordan delivered. He was, sure, genetically blessed and fell into perfect developmental circumstances and he was paired with a slightly younger, much poorer twin from rural Arkansas named Pippen that served as perfect teammate and foil. But Jordan's shots still had to fall, the killer still had to rise, and the motivator still had to find (or else invent) slights against him. Jordan still had to win. But he delivered on his promise again and again, even beyond what his circumstances and his gifts should have allowed. He may have been destiny's child in the other sense - the unstoppable thrusting of a man into greatness, but nothing about Jordan was remotely perfunctory. He cried after winning his first title in 1991 not because he was supposed to or because his handlers deemed it demographically lucrative. No, he cried because he loved what he'd earned and couldn't stand the idea of having been deprived of it. Jordan had no use for excuses - and he was too intelligent for any excuses to work. Jordan's was already a great throne when he inherited the kingdom, but he was a great king that elevated his throne still higher. Far from trivializing either the great Jordan or his great situation, hindsight only elevates both to more absurd levels.
====
"Alex, I'm glad you wrote it, and you wouldn't know this, but I already wrote
this exact same piece back in 1986 about my favorite sportswriter."
I'm sure Joe Posnanski has thought about Jordan in this way, because he has written everything that I have ever thought about sports and life into a curiously long and thoughtful post. Poz would probably figure out how the thought extends to LeBron: with his maddening playoff exits (inexplicable) and his maddening ceiling (higher and more fickle than perhaps any NBA player ever). I'm sure Poz would figure out how to work in all the greats of this era, some select greats scattered across NBA history, and a couple of personal anecdotes about tennis and baseball. Poz would work the Jordan thought into a winding yarn (but at all times simple and forward-moving). He'd work in a Buck O'Neill anecdote or a reference to Vin Scully or Joe Paterno. Wherever he'd go with it, Posnanski would think about this Jordan narrative for hours and turn it into a work of substance and entertainment. Or Poz would kindly and systematically point out all the flaws and banality and utter repetition of a bad narrative that he'd heard a thousand times but had never found the words to refute. And then Poz would find the words to refute the narrative, and in doing so would enrich all our lives with a work of substance and entertainment. That's just what he does.
I wonder if Poz senses that he has arrived and peaked (hopefully not fully) at exactly the right moments for his talents - the first burst of blogs and the first truly ubiquitous social networks, respectively. I wonder if Poz ever thinks about living in a time where niches like "Moneyball" become feature films and America can take an ironic distance towards baseball and still love it without question again. I wonder if Poz ever senses that we are living in a golden age of technology that still demands the scarce great storytellers in sports. I wonder if Poz realizes the weight of expectations his fervent readers place upon him, if he realizes the impact his best work has on us and the hours of joy his total work has brought to us. I wonder if he allows himself to be the avatar for virtue in his own narratives, as he is in ours as aspiring bloggers. I wonder if he realizes that he's in Chicago, so to speak, surrounded - as Jordan was - by a group of admirers that hang on the results of his craft. I wonder if he's proud of himself that he disappoints our expectations so rarely and transcends them so frequently.
I wonder, but I already know the answer: No, of course not. Even if he had the time (he writes a mile a minute and acknowledges that sportswriters have a shelflife), Poz can't find such narratives terribly interesting: He responded to a "Best Sportswriter Award" by making cheesy 70s references and making self-deprecating humor about himself as a blogger. Plain and simple, he's not going to let an award for best sportswriter go to his head. All he did was appreciate the praise and then he moved on; there's baseball to write about, y'know? Even if a great writer cornered him into talking about his own greatness, I'm sure he would just chalk it up to circumstance, teammates, and perseverance, like Jim Thome or Tim Duncan. His work passes through his head from his soul but seems to miss his ego, or maybe his ego just isn't very big to begin with. His advice to aspiring writers? Use active verbs, stay humble, don't think you're above the story. And that's it. Don't add flowery language, don't rest on your laurels, don't talk about your achievements, talk about your favorite stories. Don't go for the big-name contacts, go for the story and the people you're interested in hearing about. And maybe his simplicity is the whole trick. He's a master at it anyway: With a single active verb he says things that take me hours to express.* He puts Vin Scully's elegant simplicity into 4000 words or so, year-round on weekdays. He came about, sure, right when his talents were called for, but he has delivered - with virtue, sincerity, compassion, and humor - even beyond his thrust to greatness.
I read a lot ofmyfavoritePosnanskipieces this morning to feel that certain joy and enlightenment. Before I read it all, I'd had an earlier version of this post. Oh, it had a lot about how he was different, about how he is a special guy, compassion pouring from his every word, his personality bursting from his every anecdote, etc. It started, "Every day on his blog, Pos shares a couple stories, anecdotes, or thoughts. Most of them deal with baseball." And I think that's all I need to keep from the earlier draft as a chilly dawn approaches here in Madison.
"Tonight, the Texas Rangers of Dallas, Texas won the World Series."
... Except for the part where they didn't. Explanation time. I wrote those words at roughly 11:41 PM, EST. The Cardinals were coming up for their last half inning. The Rangers were up 2, and had Neftali Feliz coming out -- a closer who, like Valverde, makes you sweat a little but reliably gets his three outs about as well as anyone. And yes, he certainly made it interesting. Struck out The Riot to get the Cards down to two outs, gave up a double to Pujols, walked Berkman, and got Craig on a nasty pitch. Then he got David Freese out to his last strike. Cards still down two. So I looked away from the TV and continued writing my post.
Whoops. With the game suddenly and without warning tied, I put down the computer and watched the game. Within 10 minutes, the Rangers had once again built a two run lead in the 10th on a clutch Andrus single and a Hambone homer. And once again, I picked up my computer and continued to add things to this post -- I was intending on posting it last night, after all. And once again, in the bottom of the 10th, the Cardinals were down to their last strike, and pulled out a clutch Berkman hit to tie the game and send it to another inning. But the Rangers' magic was gone -- they wouldn't score again, while Freese would proceed to blast Mark Lowe's fifth pitch of the game into the stands to make Lowe the game's loser and to force a game 7 that looked completely inconceivable not but an hour before. And made this post almost completely irrelevant, where it will only become useful if the Rangers win the world series tonight -- a tough thing to call.
... Whoops.
• • •
Let's start from the top, I'll get back to the Rangers later. I root for teams like the Browns, Indians, and Cavs, and I often find myself lumped as simply a Cleveland fan. A blank-slate advocate of the Cleveland losers. But that’s not really true. Each of those three franchises means a very, very different thing to me. Their mythos and history has a different impact. A title in any sport would have some kind of a meaning to me — just different ones. I am a fan of all the franchises, but I’m not just a blank slate who views each teams in exactly the same way. The teams are, simply put, entirely different things. And while the similarities may be jarring, when they’re different sports, it’s pretty hard to make any kind of a “look at these similar teams, look at these Cleveland fans” equivocation with a straight face knowing how completely differently I personally view the different teams that make me a “Cleveland Fan.”
What does this have to do with the Rangers? Well, I felt like it’d be decent to write a post about the similarities between the 2011 Dallas Mavericks and the 2011 Texas Rangers. In a broad sense, the Rangers and the Mavericks are in similar positions right now relative to their history. The Mavs were, historically, a broken team deep in Texas that never got anything done in the playoffs. The Rangers were the same. The Mavs went through a period of turbulence and change under a hotshot new owner that was willing to spend for talent and didn’t like to take losing for an answer, and came out of it with a two finals appearances and a title. The Rangers were the same (belaying the title part — after losing this game, I have sincere doubts that the Rangers are going to win it this year, but that’s a story that hasn’t been written yet). The Rangers would’ve won the series in six after falling behind 2-1 in the series in a set of three games that could’ve easily been 3-0. The Mavs, well, you know the deal.
There were a lot of alluring subtexts to latch on to, and a lot of interesting similarities. It certainly warrants a post. But I couldn't get far in the post because I realized that on a visceral level I take issue with this narrative. It's for the same reason I take issue with the "Cleveland fan" meme. I feel that making that sorts of equivocations about two very different Dallas teams inherently disrespects people who, like me, may not really give a flying fuck about one of the teams in question. The idea that the two teams weren’t just two great teams that happened to be in the same city, but two wayward franchises on the exact same eldritch path to success. It's the same problem I have with lazy writers calling Cleveland sports teams perennial losers or calling Boston a winner’s town. To compare the Rangers and the Mavericks on a basic level and note their similarities and the way they’ve both turned their franchises around is one thing, so long as you continue to respect their individual identities as teams. But to go farther, to haphazardly conflate their narratives into one combined mess? That’s another story. There's nothing that really legitimizes the practice of describing all of a city’s franchises in a simple “this city’s a loser, this city’s a winner!” sort of way. Which is exactly what most of the journalism highlighting these franchises has done.
The Mavericks’ title was a Dallas title, and their title will forever be a part of Dallas’ sports lore. But it’s the Mavericks’ title first and Dallas’ title second. And were the Rangers to win a title -- theirs would be a Rangers title first, a Dallas title second. No real connection other than the city, a few overlapping fans for whom the franchises still mean very different things, and the magic of journalism. A few specious comparisons make for some interesting analysis, but it's not really all that valuable -- even if it may have the potential to be the enduring storyline among sports journalists, it's not what the fans will remember, and it's really just not what's important.
In the end? Really weren't all that similar after all. Fancy that.
His Airness demonstrates his infamous
