Let's just settle the MVP debate right now...in my house, it's my wife. When it comes to our team, I play sidekick. I talk a lot, put up some solid numbers and take over for a little while-but in the stretch run, I defer to my wife when it comes to our newborn daughter-our daily opponent, who right now has a record like the '96 Bulls. In other words, in our house, I'm Shaquille O'Neal and my wife is Dwyane Wade.
That worries me, because with Shaq Daddy, you don't know what you're getting anymore.
As I watched a Rocky marathon last weekend, I realized that Shaq is in the Rocky V stage of his career.
Long ago, O'Neal reserved his spot as one of the best NBA centers ever-his career 26.3 points, 11.8 rebounds and 2.5 blocks per game are a lock for the Hall of Fame. Off the court, Diesel has always been a fan favorite. He gives us good quotes, has a sense of humor and has a love of life we don't often see from professional athletes. After all, Shaq is the person who gave us Blue Chips, six rap albums and of course, the Reebok "Don't Fake the Funk on a Nasty Dunk" campaign.
But on the court, the inevitable is here-Shaq lacks the hunger, the skills and the attack to be as dominate as he once was. Basically, he's every Rocky Balboa before the cool "regaining the hunger/turning point/training hard" montage.
O'Neal doesn't impose fear anymore-in opposing centers, in opposing teams, or the refs. As expected, this is hard for Shaq (and us) to rationalize. When he's sent to the bench for early foul trouble, as he often has throughout the playoffs this year, he can only be thinking something like this:
"But I've been doing the same moves my entire career-what's different now? They're all just floppers and the refs have it out for me."
He sees every opposing center as a new version of Vlade Divac--massive jokes as defensive players, who fall down and don't move their feet; praying to draw the charge.
In reality, Shaq's a big man who can't move his feet very good-his reaction times have slowed with age, and he really is committing fouls. Case in point: In the past five seasons, his personal fouls per game have gone from 3.0 in 2001-2002 to 3.9 this year.
The refs aren't calling Shaq differently. Shaq is playing differently.
It goes much deeper than that. O'Neal needs extra time to recuperate-it's clearly obvious he's much better on an extra day's rest. When the playoffs come around, he always steps it up a notch-but now, even that's getting to be a challenge. If Jason Collins (who isn't exactly Ivan Drago out there) is giving you problems, you know you're in your twilight.
The last few years of his run with the Lakers, Shaq openly admitted to using the regular season as preparation for the playoffs. When you're an athlete in your 20's physical prime, that mindset works. When you're in your 30's...eh, not so much.
In fourteen NBA seasons, Shaq has only missed the playoffs once-his rookie year with Orlando. But he's playing fewer and fewer regular season games-for the first time since an injury plagued 1996-1997 season (excluding the '99 lockout), Shaq played less than 60 games. Allen Iverson used to ask about the importance of practice...Shaq seems to be asking about the importance of the regular season.
History and logic tells us that all great centers start a rapid decline around age 30-32. It's a time-told truth-like the inevitable fall of boy bands. Like most of the greats, one season you have it, then Kazaam!-the next your fighting injuries, age and fatigue.
Like Brett Favre, Randy Johnson and so many before, Shaq shouldn't be told to quit-that's his decision (and despite how we like to remember the mega-stars who were nearly as large as the game, it will always be their decision). With that said, he is far removed from his days of dominance and the Shaq-Fu.
Another case in point: for ten seasons, he averaged over 26 points per game. In the past three seasons, his points per game dropped to 21.5, climbed back to 22.9, and then dropped again to 20.9 this year. O'Neal only scored 30 points in a game four times this season. His last 40-point game in the regular season was December of 2003 against Washington.
It doesn't help when Shaq loses role players like Eddie Jones and Damon Jones-who hit timely shots and played solid defense. Good team defense could hide Shaq's slower mobility (almost inability) now to block shots. And when O'Neal is forced to help out, he's moved away from the basket and can't recover fast enough to hit the boards. For the first time in his career, he's averaging less than ten total rebounds per game.
I bet my wife is hoping my career doesn't decline to the point she can only count on me once every three days. She's putting up Wade-like numbers against the baby: 3 hours sleep, nursing and taking care of the 4 year old. If we're going to win a championship, I've got to step it up-just like Shaq.
If we are to witness a "Shaqaissance", then Carl Weathers needs to get down to South Beach and whisper into O'Neal's ear: "There IS no tomorrow...got to get it back, man-the eye of the tiger!"
And if neither Shaq nor I start contributing more to our respective teams, we'll both be out of jobs.
There's a team in Major League Baseball that is embroiled in backstabbing, infighting, finger-pointing and more unanswered questions than an episode of The Office -but are just as funny. And that was just after the New York Yankees second straight loss of the season to the Boston Red Sox.
Welcome to another episode of "As The Yankees Turn"-the ongoing story of a rich baseball owner who buys, sells and uses players about as often Kevin Federline sires children.
There are so many different personalities on this team, Cybil would fit in perfectly. In fact, pencil her in for a potential 5th starter.
It appears the fallout of 'Greatest Collapse Ever' in 2004 is still having its side effects. This is how dynasties and empires have crumbled throughout history isn't it? They lose a big battle, but technically the "off-the-cliff" fall from grace doesn't happen immediately. It takes a few years for the walls to really come down.
But when they do, they fall hard. Thus, I give you exhibit 954B of fallen empires: The New York Yankees-at least for the foreseeable future.
Nearly a month ago, I said the Yankees were on the downslide and Randy didn't look good. It may have been a tad premature, but it is true.
Randy Johnson was supposed to be the ace of the staff. After giving up 7 runs, five hits, five walks and getting just three strikeouts on 92 pitches in 3 2/3 innings last night in a 14-3 loss to Boston, he's more like the lead donkey of the stable.
"The Boss"-(I thought that nickname was reserved for Bruce Springsteen? Though, I bet King George does hum Glory Days a lot these days)-left after eight innings, presumably to beat traffic.
As he left, he predictably lashed out at his high-priced team, specifically A-Rod, who committed two errors and hasn't had a clutch hit since Seattle.
"I am upset at a lot of them" Steinbrenner said, when asked about Johnson. Before getting into the car, he said, "The third baseman", tipping us off with a cryptic clue as to who the responsible party really was for this loss.
As a Red Sox fan, I don't really know why I care or find this all so intriguing, but I do. Playing devil's advocate for your rivals is fun when you're not the one with all the problems anymore. It's like being the black-sheep of the family only to find out that your brother is way more screwed up than you are.
With that in mind, am I the only one noticing something strange about Steinbrenner? The last couple of seasons, he's remained surprisingly low key (for him)-even going so far as to promise GM Brian Cashman and manager Joe Torre more space and less criticism.
Now, suddenly, old George is back-playing the big, bad version of the Boss-with his scowl included at no additional cost. The way this whole saga is playing out eerily reminds me of the Kevin Kline film, Dave, in which Kline plays a guy (Dave) who looks just like the President and after a stroke renders the real President incapacitated, Dave acts like the President for months.
I wonder if we are witnessing a "fake" George-stranger things have happened.
The luck's run out, though, in the Yankees case, the money never will-but eventually you discover there's only so much proverbial gold at the end of the rainbow. And while they sit only a game back in the competitive A.L. East, its different this time.
Perhaps the Yankees are getting what they deserve-should you really trust an aging pitcher with a mullet? Or a superstar with commitment issues (remember A-Rod's $252 million dollar contract with the Rangers that lasted three years and his inability to commit to a nation for the WBC)? How about handing over the hallowed reigns of centerfield to a player who throws like my four year old son does with his non-dominant hand?
Maybe all these soap-opera like storylines-from Carl Pavano's fake injury to Gary Sheffield's new "injury=no-play" stance, to A-Rod's problems in the clutch, to Bernie Williams decline and Randy's rapidly decreasing dependability-are all part of a giant plan to scam Steinbrenner.
It would be fitting, in a way, if that were the case. Because 99% of the other franchises in Major League Baseball can't make mistake after mistake after mistake in the front office and player personnel areas and still have a contender year after year.
Cracks in the armor can't be concealed forever-like El Duque's age, it will eventually come to light.
The story doesn't end, it just gets messier.
Dynasties crumble. Empires fall. And the luck runs out.
Welcome to baseball for the rest of us, Yankees.
Steve Nash must be taking lessons from David Copperfield. Because Nash winning the MVP this year is like Copperfield dating Claudia Schiffer.
It's slight of hand and trickery-I just don't see how Nash became a two-time MVP. I can't help but feel like we've been duped as NBA fans.
Because Steve Nash as a two-time MVP is a farce.
This isn't about Kobe, LeBron and Dirk anymore and if they should have won. It isn't about personal attacks or who's a better person. It isn't about the merit of their seasons, what makes a team better, how much individual stats hold against team success, etc.
This is about the absurd notion forming that Steve Nash is one of, if not the best, point guards ever.
And if you don't think that's what's happening, you need to realize that by Nash winning his second MVP Award, he just joined Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, Bill Russell, Wilt Chamberlain, Moses Malone, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and Tim Duncan as the only players to have won more than one MVP.
Nash has somehow done this without leading his team in scoring or being a game-altering threat to take over in the 4th quarter. He's not even a lock to take the last shot in a tight game. Plus, he looks like Kelly Leak from the original Bad News Bears.
The strange thing is I like Steve Nash. I think he's done wonders to change the pace and face of the NBA the past few seasons, reverting teams back to the 1980's and early 90's style of fast-tempo basketball. It's what the NBA needed.
But Nash is no better than a handful of other NBA point guards who have been good, impressive and great-but never got to that level.
In a comparison provided by the good people at Basketball Reference.com, Nash is in a select company of solid and dependable point guards-but hardly the best ever. In fact, according to the website, Nash has only slightly better than a fifty percent chance to make the Hall of Fame. No other MVP has averaged fewer points since Wes Unseld in 1969. Yet he also became the only other point guard beside Magic Johnson to win back-to-back MVP's.
Look at this group of point guards and their best seasons:
Steve Nash2005: 15.5 points, 11.5 assists, 3.3 rebounds per game. He led the league in assists and shot 88.7% from the foul line.
2006: 18 points, 10.5 assists, 4.2 rebounds. He shot 92% from the free throw line and 43% from three point range, and led the league in assists.
John Stockton 1990: 17.2 points, 14.5 assists, 2.7 steals, 2.6 rebounds per game. Stockton led the NBA in assists from 1988-1996-but was never MVP, even though the Jazz routinely won and appeared in the playoffs. In '90,
Kevin Johnson1990: 23.9 points, 12.2 assists, 3.9 rebounds per game. Johnson shot 50% from the field that season. He routinely averaged a double-double in points and assists, basically from 1989-1996.
During that 1990 season, Johnson didn't even get a vote for MVP; Stockton finished 9th to Magic Johnson. Nash is basically doing exactly what all point guards used to do-score and distribute. Heck, on occasion, some of them would even play defense.
The MLB A.L. MVP debate last year focused on the fact that David Ortiz was merely a hitter, while A-Rod played both parts of the game. While its obvious basketball and baseball are different sports; we also apparently have different basic criteria for MVP's in general, because Nash doesn't play any defense. Had Smush Parker not gone 7-37 over the last four games of the Lakers-Suns series, a national audience might have seen that Nash couldn't guard a slow motion Ace Ventura when he's pretending to play football at the asylum.
Here were the other candidates for MVP this season, who share similarities with MVP's of the past:
Kobe Bryant, 2006: 35.4 points, 4.5 assists, 5.1 rebounds, 1.8 steals. Bryant won the scoring title.
Allen Iverson, 2001: 31.1 points, 4.6 assists, 3.8 rebounds, 2.5 steals per game. Iverson won the scoring title.
LeBron James, 2006: 31.4 points, 6.6 assists, 7.0 rebounds, 1.6 steals per game.
Michael Jordan, 1992: 30.1 points, 6.1 assists, 6.4 rebounds, 2.3 steals per game.
Obviously, throwing out all these stats isn't going to change the outcome, and doesn't prove or disprove anything.
But I can't shake it-Nash is a current day John Stockton, Kevin Johnson, Isiah Thomas or Tim Hardaway who just joined a list of nine of the greatest players in NBA history.
The same guy who, at times during Phoenix's Game 7 win over the Lakers Saturday, wasn't even the most valuable guard on his own team, with Leandro Barbosa making us question why Nash had such a hard time earlier in the series. The same guy who has a two year scoring average of 16.7 points and plays some of the worst defense in the league. The same guy who is now in the same breath as Jordan, Bird and Magic.
I just don't see it-but maybe you can.
When it comes to sports and gambling, we're a fickle crowd. We like predictions, like being told who's going to win and lose, not just in the big games, but game eleven of the regular season as well. It's funny-we love the World Series of Poker, "The Gambler", White Men Can't Jump and everything in between-as long as it doesn't involve real athletes and sports that we care about.
Fans, well we're allowed to gamble. As betters, we don't have favorites. We have winners and losers-and we respect them equally because they put money in our pockets. We can place bets on the teams, the winner, the loser, what the total points scored by both teams is, how many points, hits or touchdowns a player will have. We bet on everything down to the length of the game.
But we sure are funny-if not a bunch of hypocrites.
See, it's ok for us to bet on sports, to put money down on something, anything-but it's not ok for athletes themselves-even if they don't play the sport they're betting on or are retired from professional sports all together. It raises more eyebrows than antes.
We can bet on college sports like the USC-Texas Rose Bowl or the NCAA Tournament-and do it online at every major sports site, but Charles Barkley is viewed negatively for telling us he threw thousands and thousands of dollars away at some table in Vegas?
Here's what I don't understand: why do we care? Aside from crossing the line of fixing games to meet the outcome that the bookies want (which is wrong and has no place in sports, obviously), where else is gambling someone else's concern?
Would you care if I went out and blew all my money in Vegas, then came home with nothing and my family ended up on the street? Probably not.
It's like watching Austin Powers gamble-if I'm a dumb gambler and don't know a thing about cards or casinos or betting and lose-then call me stupid and irresponsible with money. Maybe worry for my family for having to rely on me to provide for them.
Barkley can do whatever he wants with his money, because it's his.
This isn't steroids; it isn't drugs or performance enhancers that affect (except in cases of fixed games) the purity of the game or score fixing. When you bet, you are always at risk to lose-the more you could lose. These are the rules, they've always been the rules and you know that going in.
When Daly and Barkley go out and confess to having a "gambling problem", I don't feel sorry for them or hold them in contempt-I laugh. Because anyone who has taken a math class can tell you it's quite a risk to put a large sum of money on the probability that the event you're betting on will occur.
Daly isn't stealing money from me-he's throwing it away in bunches, which is silly, but none of my concern. If it was an athlete that wasn't playing hard and was getting criticized for it, I can see that debate.
But Barkley isn't playing for his lunch money; he isn't a person of high power in a public setting that has a problem which would affect his leadership abilities.
(Though, if Chuckles did run for Governor of Alabama, I wouldn't want to hear his economic improvement strategy: "Let's just take all last year's taxes and put in on Red 19-we'll triple our state income!")
A lot of what we think about the topic depends on who it is: Pete Rose is considered a baseball pariah-even though it was never proven he bet on baseball as a player, which is what keeps him out of the Hall of Fame.
Michael Jordan heavily gambled (there's even been that gossip-like rumor that Jordan was forced to retire from basketball in 1993 because of gambling problems)-but we don't let that affect our judgment of His Airness.
In fact, we don't let anything affect our opinion of Jordan. It's taking on mythic proportions at this point. He's turned into Bill Brasky from the SNL skits with Will Ferrell.
Let's hope Kobe Bryant doesn't start gambling away money at a blackjack table-he'll never be allowed on the basketball court again.
We sure are funny sports fans. We hate the gamblers, but we love the lines. In that spirit, here are the odds for some upcoming sporting events:
10:1-Odds that Kobe Bryant and Raja Bell participate in a "No Holds Barred" match after Game 7, with Luke Walton and Lakers assistant Kurt Rambis as Kobe's manager.
Hilarious: Riveting-Odds that Bill Walton will call Game 7 of Lakers-Suns Saturday and act like he doesn't know or acknowledge Luke Walton.
Over/Under on how many days until Paris Hilton moves on to Vince Young or Jay Cutler: 62:1-Odds that Barry Bonds uses his recent head injury to plead that amnesia caused him to forget whether or not he knowingly took steroids. Looks like now we'll never know.
EVEN-The winner of NASCAR's Crown Royal 250 must take 250 shots of Crown to prove he's the champ.
1,000,000:1-Odds that Jeff Gordon is that man.
If you had told me at any point in the past ten years that the Los Angeles Lakers and the Los Angeles Clippers would meet in the playoffs during any postseason, I would have spit out my beer and laughed uncontrollably, like the New Orleans Saints front office probably did after the Houston Texans didn't take Reggie Bush in the NFL Draft last Saturday.
So here we are, dealing with the improbable, but very possible-a series between two franchises who share the same arena, but distinctly different histories. If this wasn't the Lakers and the Clippers, the focus would be on the goofy notion that neither team will leave their home court; they'll just alternate locker rooms. The biggest thing either has to deal with is the change in the paint color scheme on the court.
Here's what's most troubling: who would get dibs on the front row seats, Jack Nicholson or Billy Crystal?-because Lord knows there isn't room for both in Staples.
While the focus in this upcoming series should be on the Clippers, a Caddyshack like Cinderella story of the bumbling franchise that all of the sudden turned into a viable playoff contender (with Donald Sterling staring as Judge Smails)-it won't be.
The Lakers are the most intriguing playoff story going, for two reasons: Phil Jackson and Kobe Bryant.
Though he's tied with Red Auerbach with most NBA titles won by a coach, the knock on Phil Jackson has always been he had all the talent while winning titles with the Bulls and Lakers. And until recently, maybe that was true.
But after this impressive season-long coaching clinic, when will Phil get the recognition he deserves as Greatest Coach of All-Time? Because there's nothing left now to discuss with his latest turn in L.A.-and maybe that's why he came back. How do you top winning championships with Michael and Scottie, Shaq and Kobe? How about turning a team that everyone laughed at for two seasons and making them a Western Conference semi-finalist.
We should have seen this coming-shouldn't have we assumed that Jackson would out-coach Mike D'Antoni?
Maybe this was Phil's plan all along. Think about it: if you were Jackson, how would you go about winning games during the regular season in the West? Team ball? No way. Sure, maybe you can count on this collection of misfits to step up in the playoff spotlight like they have, but night after night, over the course of 82 games? Not a chance.
So you put the ball into the hands of one of the league's most dynamic players and basically let him try to get the team into the playoffs. While Kobe's doing his thing, Jackson was molding the likes of Lamar Odom, Luke Walton, Smush Parker and Kwame Brown into believing in their roles.
(Can you actually believe we're talking about Kwame Brown and Luke Walton as a viable basketball players? Me neither.) One unmistakable fact about Jackson: he's an excellent motivator and can sell basketball like Big Tom Callahan sold auto-parts.
Then, there's Kobe. I remember watching Jordan's "Flue-Game" against the Jazz in '97 and the Game 6 winner over Russell in '98, with a bunch of my friends. And it was...anti-climatic. We'd come to expect the 50 point games and last second heroics. He was Air Jordan for crying out loud.
But with Kobe, well, it's unfair to compare him to Jordan, because he's really not. He's actually the anti-Jordan.
He wasn't cut in seventh grade, his father wasn't killed tragically and for all of his smiling, he doesn't have Jordan's off-court likeability (not to mention the whole Shaq divorce). Jordan was endearing because of those all his quirks. Bryant speaks multiple languages, has openly admitted to cheating on his wife and has an ego the size of Jackson's Montana ranch getaway. Bryant is less than likeable because of these things.
So as Kobe hit the game tying lay-up and subsequent overtime winner, I was thoroughly impressed because unlike Jordan, everyone who isn't a Laker fan is rooting for Kobe to miss those shots. Most of us want to see him fail because, frankly, we don't like him as a person.
And that's fine-we don't have to like him. But we have to recognize what Bryant's doing on the basketball court. In the past 86 games, he's gone from selfish and self-serving, to 62 points in three quarters (where he was berated for not going for the non-Wilt record, to scoring 81 (where he was berated for actually doing it), to leading a group of players who wouldn't see the court on most NBA rosters into the playoffs.
If there's one Jordan comparison that works, maybe it's this one: he massages his team mates' confidence the same way MJ did. Did you see the way he talked to Parker after that game-tying lay-up?
And did you see the way his team mates mobbed him like Jimmy Chitwood after the Game 4 OT winner? They love him.
But somehow, we still don't.
In a short five game span, Kobe's played the role designed by his coach. He became a team leader and a team mate, making the Lakers into a fun-loving, all-for-one NCAA Tournament style playoff Cinderella.
And yet, we still discredit the performance. We still call him self-serving and egotistical. Make no mistake-he's probably still all those things. But when will we start acting like the fictional Yankees fans did in For Love of the Game and just applaud this? A legend is forming in front of our eyes, but our dislike for Bryant's personality blinds us.
After Game 4, a fan said that they hadn't heard the Staples Center that loud since the 2000 Western Conference Finals comeback win over Portland. Sure, Smush Parker made a steal, Luke Walton forced a jump ball-but the success of this team can be credited to Phil and Kobe. They still haven't won this series or anything else this year-and maybe they never will again.
But for this odd couple, maybe that's the plan.
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But on the court, the inevitable is here-Shaq lacks the hunger, the skills and the attack to be as dominate as he once was. Basically, he's every Rocky Balboa before the cool "regaining the hunger/turning point/training hard" montage.
O'Neal doesn't impose fear anymore-in opposing centers, in opposing teams, or the refs. As expected, this is hard for Shaq (and us) to rationalize. When he's sent to the bench for early foul trouble, as he often has throughout the playoffs this year, he can only be thinking something like this:
"But I've been doing the same moves my entire career-what's different now? They're all just floppers and the refs have it out for me."
He sees every opposing center as a new version of Vlade Divac--massive jokes as defensive players, who fall down and don't move their feet; praying to draw the charge.
In reality, Shaq's a big man who can't move his feet very good-his reaction times have slowed with age, and he really is committing fouls. Case in point: In the past five seasons, his personal fouls per game have gone from 3.0 in 2001-2002 to 3.9 this year.
The refs aren't calling Shaq differently. Shaq is playing differently.
It goes much deeper than that. O'Neal needs extra time to recuperate-it's clearly obvious he's much better on an extra day's rest. When the playoffs come around, he always steps it up a notch-but now, even that's getting to be a challenge. If Jason Collins (who isn't exactly Ivan Drago out there) is giving you problems, you know you're in your twilight.
The last few years of his run with the Lakers, Shaq openly admitted to using the regular season as preparation for the playoffs. When you're an athlete in your 20's physical prime, that mindset works. When you're in your 30's...eh, not so much.
In fourteen NBA seasons, Shaq has only missed the playoffs once-his rookie year with Orlando. But he's playing fewer and fewer regular season games-for the first time since an injury plagued 1996-1997 season (excluding the '99 lockout), Shaq played less than 60 games. Allen Iverson used to ask about the importance of practice...Shaq seems to be asking about the importance of the regular season.
History and logic tells us that all great centers start a rapid decline around age 30-32. It's a time-told truth-like the inevitable fall of boy bands. Like most of the greats, one season you have it, then Kazaam!-the next your fighting injuries, age and fatigue.
Like Brett Favre, Randy Johnson and so many before, Shaq shouldn't be told to quit-that's his decision (and despite how we like to remember the mega-stars who were nearly as large as the game, it will always be their decision). With that said, he is far removed from his days of dominance and the Shaq-Fu.
Another case in point: for ten seasons, he averaged over 26 points per game. In the past three seasons, his points per game dropped to 21.5, climbed back to 22.9, and then dropped again to 20.9 this year. O'Neal only scored 30 points in a game four times this season. His last 40-point game in the regular season was December of 2003 against Washington.
It doesn't help when Shaq loses role players like Eddie Jones and Damon Jones-who hit timely shots and played solid defense. Good team defense could hide Shaq's slower mobility (almost inability) now to block shots. And when O'Neal is forced to help out, he's moved away from the basket and can't recover fast enough to hit the boards. For the first time in his career, he's averaging less than ten total rebounds per game.
I bet my wife is hoping my career doesn't decline to the point she can only count on me once every three days. She's putting up Wade-like numbers against the baby: 3 hours sleep, nursing and taking care of the 4 year old. If we're going to win a championship, I've got to step it up-just like Shaq.
If we are to witness a "Shaqaissance", then Carl Weathers needs to get down to South Beach and whisper into O'Neal's ear: "There IS no tomorrow...got to get it back, man-the eye of the tiger!"
And if neither Shaq nor I start contributing more to our respective teams, we'll both be out of jobs.
