It's been quite a long time, FoxSports blog brethren--in fact, it has been over six months since my last post, following my runner-up finish in the "Next Great Sportswriter II" contest. And since NGS 2, as some of you may be aware from my conversations with Ty Hildenbrandt (aka Quick Slants and first NGS winner), I have been writing for a local newspaper in Johnson County, Indiana.
However, I recently accepted a position as Assistant Editor and Writer for a new publication, which will service the central Indiana area, High School Sports The Magazine. If you are interested, you'll be able to read my writing online beginning at the end of March.
Many thanks for all the support...and more importantly, know that blogging DOES lead somewhere, as long as you want it to. Perhaps our paths will cross again, but until then, good luck and best wishes!
Last August, my wife and I relaxed by the pool at a luxurious resort in Cancun. We were on our honeymoon, surrounded by a hundred other couples with the same wedding date as us, which was really all we had in common. That was, of course, until I noticed the guy in the Red Sox hat. While everyone else sat virtually silent with nothing relevant to say to each other, we talked for over an hour about our beloved Sox—the comeback, Schilling’s bloody sock and that painful game seven of the 2003 ALCS.
Despite the fun we had, and aside from the “you’re really talking about sports right now?” look on my wife’s face, I’ll always remember that guy, that conversation and the way that sports brought us together.
That is what sports provides us with—they create a commonality between strangers, making us feel like we all are connected in a way that distance and time make impossible. For some reason, sports are more than just a bunch of kid games played by adults. They hold an intrinsic emotional value to us, providing a medium that allows everyone to relate as if we’d known each other for years. Sports are the temperature gauge of our society.
It’s incredible but true: as a country, we argue and get more worked up about issues like steroids, the NBA MVP and the importance of U.S. soccer on the global stage than we do issues that really affect our lives like, say, rising gas prices and our need to find alternative energy sources.
If you’re reading this, then guaranteed, you know sports is the only thing that would cause a normally rational person to lose his cool in a restaurant after overhearing the conversation at another table, about Mario Williams being a better pick than Reggie Bush. After all, some things can’t go unnoticed; they just instinctively grab your attention. Never mind if your child has poured the entire bottle of ketchup onto his plate. How can anyone side with Charlie Casserly?
Think about how we interact with each other as a society—it isn’t through larger social issues, it’s through sports.
We don’t sit at a bar and talk about environmental statistics, we talk baseball statistics. We don’t have parties where we get together and watch the crop report; we get together and watch the Super Bowl. Kids don’t play “Global Investment Strategies” in their room at night, they play Nerf basketball. And I certainly don’t get together with my wife’s family to have a Social Security discussion; we go to a Triple-A baseball games and share $5 beers.
Sports have an influence on our lives that can only be pinpointed when we examine our actions. It drives us to do crazy things and shift our priorities. Take me for example: I’ve decided it’s more important for my four-year old to learn to taunt his Yankee-loving grandfather mercilessly about their pitching woes than it is for him to learn to read. He’s only got a few more years before he starts attending games with me, and he needs to be ready. You have to prepare them for it. Reading will come with time—they have schools for that.
Sports can even inject reason and logic into unrelated situations. A high-ranking government official makes a harmful and derogatory remark about a subsection of society? Fine ‘em like the NBA does Mark Cuban. That’s right, give the Supreme Court the right to levy fines on these poor representatives of the American people. Just as it’s bad for professional sports as a business when an owner, manager or player acts out in an inappropriate way, it’s bad when our elected officials do the same. But I digress.
Though our seemingly ridiculous obsession with sports comes at a price of time and emotion, there’s always a return on our investment. Maybe it’s playing golf with your dad or your brother-in-law. Perhaps it can come from watching your favorite team win a championship so you can experience a little bit of the purest form of joy in life, which is in the moments after a team or player wins a title. Or it could be getting an autographed picture of a childhood hero for Christmas, which will, under no circumstances—even the threat of bankruptcy—be sold for personal gain.
The point is that sports has crept into nearly every aspect of our lives, often manifesting itself when we least expect it—whether in a restaurant or on a honeymoon in Mexico. And even if my wife still has that look on her face, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
For the Miami Heat to win its first NBA Championship, it needed the man who built the franchise into a contender over a decade ago. The Heat needed a monumental effort and a rainmaker to take over during the season and lead the troops to victory.
It needed Pat Riley. It needed him to fine tune his coaching, managerial and motivational skills, and to show that the old dog had the foresight to know he needed new tricks to win in this era of the NBA.
While Dwyane Wade stamped his name on the MVP trophy and became one of the best players in Finals history, Riley was the puppeteer pulling the strings on Wade’s supporting cast. By blending in fading superstars, a rising megastar, role players and cast-offs, he not only brought them together, but managed to finally bring a victory parade down Biscayne Boulevard.
And it was perhaps one of the best coaching jobs in NBA history. This championship wasn’t like the four Riley won as head coach of the Los Angeles Lakers, which boasted one of the greatest lineups ever with Magic Johnson, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar and James Worthy—this was a true challenge. From bringing in Shaq, Jason Williams, Gary Payton and Antoine Walker to controversially replacing Stan Van Gundy, the pressure to succeed in South Beach grew with each passing game over the past seven months.
This championship wasn’t about redemption for Pat Riley—he doesn’t need it with his resume. It was about proving that who’s coaching still matters.
Just look at some of his work—getting Walker to play defense and not just jog three-point line to three-point line, and convincing Gary Payton to play more like a role player than “the player”, as well as come off the bench and contribute to a total team effort.
Riley got Jason Williams to play less like White Chocolate and more like a Starbucks decaf latte. He tapped Alonzo Mourning’s one kidney for more production than anyone thought possible. He managed the ego of a declining Shaquille O’Neal. And most importantly, he convinced a group of savvy veterans that Dwyane Wade should be the captain of the ship, not just a passenger.
While they were handing out awards in the post-game, they should have given Riley an honorary PhD in motivational psychology. In a sports world where so many struggle mentally with the game they play, his psychological management of this team and his motivational tactics proved that he always believes and never doubts.
There was the bowl that had been sitting in the middle of the Heat locker room throughout the playoffs, covered by a shroud of mystery. Only the players and coaches knew what was inside—and it wasn’t Stan Van Gundy’s head. Riley revealed that the bowl included over 150,000 small cut-out cards of the Larry O’Brien trophy. They signified the end goal of the team and that the Heat were composed of “15 strong”.
“People don’t know how much they wanted to win. Every day, I would bring in a bunch, dump them in, Shaq would bring them in. It was about 15 strong, the Heat, the players and their wives, after all we’d heard about team chemistry and guys not working together...it was about faith,” Riley said.
In making them believe, he convinced an eclectic group of players with varying backgrounds and ages in a cynical league of selfish athletes to come together for the ultimate goal—a championship.
The players said Riley offered all of his rings so they could win this one. Who wouldn’t want to play for that guy? How many coaches can pinpoint to their teams which day they’ll win the title?
“The great Pat Riley told me we were going to win today. He told us on 6/8 that we would win it on 6/20…Pat Riley is the best coach I ever had,” Shaquille O’Neal said amidst the celebration.
He earned the respect of his players and got them to buy into his system—perhaps the most difficult thing for a coach to do in professional sports. It showed on the court as they played defense, jumped on loose balls and consistently out rebounded Dallas—something that hadn’t been done against the Mavericks in the entire playoffs. And it showed after the final buzzer, when each Heat player individually hugged Riley to show their appreciation.
It took Riley’s kind of toughness to become only the third team in NBA history to win the Finals after being down 0-2. When the series shifted to Miami after two bad losses in Dallas, Riley changed the team’s mentality. For the next four games, the Heat played like Rambo: aggressive on defense, attacking on offense and physical on both ends, relentless and driven. In contrast, the Mavericks played back on its heels, almost trying to solve a mystery like Colombo: attempting to figure out all the angles, but running out of time at the end of the show.
In many ways, the Heat are the embodiment of Pat Riley, realizing as a group that the window of opportunity was closing, that they needed and wanted a championship more than they wanted the individual recognition. Even when it appeared the Heat couldn’t find themselves, their leader knew who they were and what they could do.
For the first time in 18 years, Pat Riley tasted championship champagne Tuesday night. And it never tasted so sweet. Maybe Pat Riley needed this, but the Heat needed him more.
“It’s not over,” said Dwyane Wade after Game 4 of the NBA Finals.
“It’s a different series now, 2-2,” Shaquille O’Neal said of the Miami Heat’s 98-74 blowout win over the Dallas Mavericks Thursday night.
Both statements ooze arrogance and confidence, spurred by the sudden and dramatic momentum swing which could be seen in nearly every aspect of Game 4. My friends used to call it “Uncle Mo” before any big game—and they’d say he was coming for a visit.
During the first two games in Dallas, it appeared that Miami was overwhelmed and wouldn’t be seeing Uncle Mo anytime soon. The Heat were stagnant on offense and defense. Shaq looked like he was closer to Dunkin' Donuts than to dunking the ball. Pat Riley looked out of his element and outwitted by Avery Johnson. The Heat bench was reduced to a cheerleading section—except there wasn’t much to cheer about.
The shift that began at the end of Game 3, the balance of power, the momentum and the confidence so desperately needed in a seven game series of this magnitude, was officially Miami’s at the end of Game 4.
The evidence of this was everywhere last night. Wade put in 36 points, giving him a total of 78 in the past two games, while playing on an strained knee—which could've just as easily been due to him carrying the Heat to the Game 3 win as it could have from Shaq falling into his legs. Without his ability to penetrate and explode to the basket, he took advantage of Dallas’ sagging perimeter defense and drilled jump shots all night as if he were shooting in an empty gym. In fact, sometimes he was that open—like the inbounds play he took with one second on the shot clock early in the fourth quarter and banked the ball in as the buzzer sounded.
But getting Shaq more involved was an important key if Miami truly wanted to get back into the series. He finally had a solid game in the Finals with a 17-point, 13-rebound double-double. Along with those numbers, Shaq dished out 3 assists by passing out of double teams to find an open man. For whatever reason, whether it was the hard foul by Jerry Stackhouse (to which Shaq said in the post-game press conference, “My impression was my daughters tackle me harder when I come home”) or his reborn ability to execute a quick baseline spin move, for O’Neal Game 4 was “The Big Motivator”.
Aside from its two superstars, Miami got nice contributions from its bench. Reserve guard/forward James Posey had 15 points and 10 rebounds in 26 stellar minutes that featured a back-breaking three-pointer with a little over seven minutes to go that pushed the Heat lead to 15. Alonzo Mourning chipped in 4 points, 6 rebounds—but his most important stat was three intimidating blocks.
Somehow Pat Riley convinced Antoine Walker to play intelligently, play defense and not hoist so many shots (he didn’t even attempt his first three-pointer until the opening moments of the second half). Seeing Walker breaking up passes and tallying two steals and a block is nothing short of miraculous—like watching a lazy friend with bad pick-up lines get a job, a haircut and a girlfriend in one day.
Even the “White Hot” Miami crowd came to the arena with a purpose, taunting Mavericks star Dirk Nowitzki with cutouts of David Hasselhoff’s face and chanting the singer/actor’s name every time Nowitzki shot a free throw. For all we know, that could have been the psychological ploy that forced Dirk to shoot just 2-14 from the field.
With its confidence rising, Miami is taking full advantage of the Mavs misfortunes. Because as quickly as Dallas built that momentum in the first two games of the series, it has been lost in the last two. Everything’s flipped. Its superstar has a case of the shooting shanks, as Shaq did in Dallas. Its coach looks confused, as Pat Riley early on in the series. And its young team appears as though they have stage fright.
The overall energy and attitude of the Heat seemed to intimidate the Mavs in Game 4. Miami’s zone defense appeared to affect Dallas nearly every time Pat Riley ran it—and the constant switching from man to zone left the Mavs scorers’ unable to get into rhythm. Due to this, the Mavericks appeared flustered and edgy; it shot just 31% from the field—including just 3-22 from three-point land.
And the Mavericks certainly won’t enter Game 5 on a high note after setting the record for lowest points in the 4th quarter in NBA Finals history with 7.
Momentum does funny things: it has Dallas licking its wounds, trying to figure out what went wrong; while it has Jason Kapono in the last minute of the game because Miami’s up by so many there’s no way the scrubs can blow it.
Momentum doesn’t care about Miami’s continued troubling pattern of turnovers, offensive fouls and overall lack of transition defense. But it does care about Dallas getting four offensive rebounds in one possession, coming away with nothing and looking intimidated.
It cares about who wants it most; not who tries to hold onto it. Momentum loves to be pursued.
The past several seasons we tried to pretend the NBA Finals were important because it was The Finals. Except it wasn’t the Finals anymore—it was like watching a balloon go flat. Pretending the NBA Finals mattered was just something we became accustomed to; it was like a chore to watch, instead of an event that we had to see.
With the Dallas Mavericks and Miami Heat advancing to the Finals, this is a series that the league and the fans can care about again. Nobody has to pretend anymore. To the league, it’s about ratings. To the fans, it’s about the entertaining ride two compelling teams can take us on. And for both, it’s about Shaq.
For the first time in a long time, the NBA Finals matter again.
If TV ratings are any indication, NBA fandom dreaded another Pistons-Spurs Championship slowdown—er, showdown. The TV ratings tell the story. In 2005, Game 1—which along with Game 7, should be the most watched games of the series-- drew a rating just under 9.
Historically, the Finals have always been a ratings draw for the NBA, roughly averaging somewhere in the neighborhood of 12-14 million viewers per series over the past 25 years. Until 2003, which drew a 6.5 rating for the Spurs and Nets, the last Finals to receive a rating under 10 was 1981—when the series drew a 6.7 rating and were shown on late night tape delay.
What these ratings say is “who cares about Tim Duncan and his fundamentals”? As impressive as he is, as good of a team as the Spurs are, no one wants to watch them isolate Duncan on the low block while the rest of his teammates stand around waiting for him to be double-teamed. And as much as we praise the team chemistry of the Pistons, no one wants to see them play hard-nosed defense and win games 80-75.
If we really wanted to watch these things, we’d check out a high-school game. But this is the NBA. This is the Finals. We want dunks. We want Magic skyhooks in the lane with five seconds left and finding out the Mailman truly doesn’t deliver on Sundays. We want coaches adjusting game plans and playing mind games with one another, working the sidelines with flair.
TV ratings are a reflection of how interested people are in who’s playing, not the NBA. By all indications, fans want to see something entertaining—not just NBA basketball. David Stern has always talked about the NBA as an entertainment product. Well, the product has been as entertaining as watching a Chia pet grow the past few years.
But all that changes on Thursday. The Dallas Mavericks and Miami Heat are anything but boring. Each of these teams is making its first appearance ever in the Finals.
It almost feels like the next week or two won’t be nearly enough time to discuss all the terrific subplots to this series—like Pat Riley’s return to the NBA’s definitive event by taking his third team to the Finals. Somewhere, Stan Van Gundy is on vacation, with his family, silently stewing. How about Mark Cuban taking the Mavericks to the NBA Finals with his new brand of ownership—let’s at least hope the Heat don’t win a Game 7 based on a foul call; Cuban will review the tape for three months before sending in a lengthy review to the league and be fined $75,000 for criticizing the officials.
Furthermore, do we realize that all seven games will be played in an arena named after American Airlines, but in two different cities? Or about the possibility of Dwyane Wade being the first superstar from the 2003 Draft Class to win a title? Or that Dirk Nowitzki had to lose his two best friends, Steve Nash and Michael Finley before going to the Finals? What are the odds Dirk is seen holding the Larry O’Brien trophy with a “We are all Nowitnesses” t-shirt on?
There is an actual possibility that Antoine Walker, Jason Williams, Gary Payton or Jerry Stackhouse and Keith Van Horn could all win an NBA title. Just think about that for a moment.
Above all else the NBA Finals are reborn this year because of Shaquille O’Neal. Consider that Shaq is attempting to cement his status as one of the best centers ever. Or that he’s playing in the NBA Finals for a sixth time with his third team. Or that he’s trying to win his first championship without Phil Jackson and Kobe Bryant.
Plus, Shaq is one of the last connections the NBA has with its most famous players of the past. One day O’Neal will retire to a life of law enforcement and intimidating people pulled over for a speeding ticket. Until then, he’s remains a link between the NBA past of Bird, Jordan, Magic, the Dream Team and the NBA future of Wade, Dirk, LeBron and Kobe.
To bridge the gap between now and when the young stars take over completely, the NBA needs Shaq in the Finals. To help get through the growing pains of the young stars taking over, the fans need Shaq in the Finals. The Finals and the NBA are just better when Shaq is involved.
For the past several seasons, the NBA’s fans have been largely dissatisfied by a series that had lost its character. The indiscernible personality of the Finals hurt the league, its ratings and its fans. Instead of looking forward to the NBA Finals, we’d grown tired of it. The culmination of professional basketball was not only unwatchable—it wasn’t even interesting.
The Basketball Gods have rewarded us with these Playoffs and this Finals match-up as a gift for putting up with so much. New blood, more entertaining teams, more personality and more Shaq.
The NBA Finals have returned. But this year, it’s really back.
Some brief, sarcastic comments on the last few days worth of Sports “news”:
Buggin’ Out—So Roger Clemens is going through his first (what would you call it, rehab start?) outing since rejoining the Astros, pitching for Class A Lexington Legends last night when his son approaches the mound during the third inning.
“Dad, I just wanted to tell you if you strike out one more guy, the entire crowd gets free wiper fluid.”
Upon hearing this news from Koby, the Rocket proceeds to get two more strikeouts, finding the motivation to retire the side. Now every time it rains or a bug splatters the windshield for the next month, people in Lexington will think of Roger Clemens.
I just glad Clemens wasn’t down there for “Mullet Appreciate Night” back in May—he would have had to go 1986 on everyone.
Just Sickening—No one should be overly concerned that Dwyane Wade has missed a couple practices because of lingering effects from the flu that hampered him in Game 6 of the Eastern Conference Finals. We’re talking about practice, man. We’re talking about practice.
What would really make Wade sick--and everyone else except Dirk Notwitzki--is if David Hasselhoff sang the National Anthem before one of the games in Dallas.
Hearing crickets—The College Women’s World Series match-up between Arizona and Northwestern drew more viewers than Game 1 of the Stanley Cup Finals, which pulled in a cool 611,000 households. Yep, Hockey's definitely making a comeback.
Take it easy, Champ, why don’t you sit the next couple plays out—Seems like there are quite a few major leaguers upset at Lastings Milledge for giving some hive fives to the fans after hitting his first major league home-run. This wasn’t during play, it was between innings on his way to the field.
Lighten up about baseball’s unwritten rules. Perhaps the crackdown on amphetamines has really made some players/managers cranky. Maybe most of these guys need to make peace with themselves for not doing the same thing on their first home-run.
In the NBA’s post-Jordan hangover, the collective argument has been that the NBA is lost and missing the special qualities it once had. Well, it isn’t true.
The NBA’s not missing anything. The league is merely traveling through its Space-Time Continuum. Yes, the same theory brought to you by Doc Brown in the 80’s classic Back to the Future is alive and well in the NBA.
As Doc Brown explains during the film, key events balance the universe and without each one the course of history is altered. The reason Doc and Marty had to get each event perfect is because if they didn’t, the universe would have ceased to exist as they knew it.
Just as we experience things in life that impact our future, without four key events, the NBA would be completely different than the league we know today. And it is because of the league’s Space-Time Continuum that we can pinpoint the “Best Things to Happen to the NBA.” Take away an event, the league as we know it would begin to disappear like Marty’s hand at the ‘Enchantment under the Sea’ dance.
David Stern
According to Ask Men.com, when Stern became Commissioner of the NBA in 1984, nearly 80% of its teams were losing money and fan interest was at an all-time low. Hard to believe, but the classic 42-point performance in the 1980 Finals by Magic Johnson, as he filled in for Kareem Abdul-Jabbar to lead the Lakers to the NBA title, was shown on tape delay at 11:30 p.m.
It was Stern’s implementation of a revolutionary salary cap—which altered the economic structure of the NBA, along with changing the relationship between teams and players—that gave the league the financial flexibility it needed to become a global force.
Perhaps the NBA and its premier players would have been successful without Stern, but his marketing prowess of the league and its superstars allows us to enjoy NBA Live video games, custom made jerseys and the famous player-caricature championship t-shirt. If there were no David Stern, we might have an NBA ran by Biff Tannen.
The 3-point shot
While it began as a gimmick to create interest in the league, the 3-point shot has become the most dynamic part of the game. From revolutionizing the modern player prototype to giving new meaning to the phrase “from downtown”, the 3-point shot forever changed the face of the NBA. Who would have thought a 7-footer would be draining a 25-foot shot on one possession, then posting up on the next?
Imagine where the NBA would be without it; how drastically altered our historical perspective of the league would be: no Robert Horry prayer against the Kings in the 2002 Western Conference Finals. Reggie Miller would have never been able to single-handedly bring back the Pacers against the Knicks in the ’95 Playoffs. And we never would have seen Jordan’s famous shrug of the shoulders against Portland in the ’92 Finals without the 3-point shot.
Magic, Larry & Michael
Separately, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird and Michael Jordan all became the face of the NBA—Magic as the personality of the league, Larry as it’s hard-working core and Michael as its most talented player ever.
Together they gave us three of the most memorable teams in the history of sports. Without Magic’s Lakers, Bird’s Celtics, and Jordan’s Bulls, we would have missed one of the most compelling rivalries in the history of sports. By combining for 14 NBA Championships in 19 seasons, they ushered in a new era of basketball and reintroduced us to the term “dynasty”.
Michael Jordan was the ultimate “event” or “experience” for the league and the fans. Where would we be without Air Jordan’s, “Like Mike” commercials, Hanes, the Bulls, the clutch shots, the championships, the tongue-wagging and Space Jam? Well, all but the last one, anyway.
Portland, Phoenix and Utah may have won NBA Championships had there been no Jordan. He became the standard for which all NBA superstars are measured.
Phil Jackson and the Triangle
Jackson may not have won his record tying 9 NBA Championships if it were not for Jordan, Scottie Pippen, Shaquille O’Neal and Kobe Bryant, but at last check, none of them have ever won a title without him either.
While tough, no non-sense coaches like Pat Riley and Chuck Daly had always thrived in the NBA, Jackson used philosophy to motivate and relate to his players.
His attached-at-the-hip assistant, Tex Winter, developed an offense called the Triangle that relied on passing and movement to create easy scoring opportunities. The Triangle brought balance to a league run amuck by one-on-one and without it we’d be watching games made up of ‘And 1’ mixtapes.
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Every event, while independent of each other, is interconnected in the NBA’s Space-Time Continuum. The NBA’s success didn’t just occur; it materialized as a byproduct of these events happening the way they did. It’s hard to imagine the league without David Stern, the 3-point shot, its biggest superstars and its most famous coach.
Be glad that we had each of these four things, or we might be in need of a time-traveling DeLorean, Doc Brown and 1.21 gigawatts of electricity.
Remember the old SNL skit, “Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey”? Well, this is something like that. Only worse.
Eastern Conference Finals:
—The Pistons, as I’ve said before, could be finished. The theory isn’t exactly groundbreaking, but when you get a group of players who have played three full seasons without injuries AND have made a deep run into the playoffs each year, eventually they will run out of steam and out of luck. That’s just how it is, that’s how it’s always been. Think ‘89 Lakers or ’87 Celtics. Things just catch up with you. Things have certainly caught up with Detroit, the players and the coaches.
—With Dwayne Wade’s acrobatic, amazing and burned into playoff lore lay-up yesterday, the Pistons are being fit for a playoff toe-tag faster than Marty McFly was when facing a possible duel with Mad Dog Tannen in Back to the Future III.
—That play was indicative of what’s wrong with Detroit this post-season. Wade flipped the switch; the Heat have flipped the switch in the Eastern Conference Finals—but the Pistons have stood by and watched, mostly. Had this been 2004 or even 2005, somebody on the Pistons would have wrapped up Wade’s arms and prevented the shot from being taken. Somebody would have taken him to the floor. Hard.
—Everyone says not to write off the Detroit Pistons; that they love it when their backs are firmly against the walls and the odds are worse than Pitt-Aniston reconciliation. Well, wish granted. Down 3-1 in the Eastern Conference Finals against a team that has had it in for you for the past twelve months is pretty bad odds. Of the last 43 teams to be down 3 games to 1 in the Conference Finals, only three have came back to win the series.
—Don’t blame Flip Saunders for this—as it has been rumored that the Pistons are. (Wasn’t that the rumor with this group and Rick Carlisle for awhile? And for a short time last year, Larry Brown? Maybe it’s the players, after all.) For all that the Pistons are and claim to be, they sure throw their coach under the bus pretty easily. No, the “Demise of Detroit” is simple logic. Time takes its toll in the NBA, through injuries and fatigue, and there’s nothing they can do about it.
In honor of the late, legendary, “That Guy” actor club, I can’t help but wonder if Detroit would be fairing better under the tutelage of Paul Gleason. He could have even coached the Pistons as his character in The Breakfast Club, Principal Vernon.
Try and imagine his post game press conferences: “Mess with the bull, you get the horns.” Or “I told them the next time I have to call a time-out, I’m crackin’ skulls.” Or simply imagine Vernon giving a pre-game speech: “You ought to spend a little more time trying to win the game and this series and a little less time worry about trying to impress people.” Paul Gleason, you will be missed.
—Yes, these are the things that I think about. All. Day. Long.
—Is it me, or have the Pistons become a mini-version of the Spurs and are beginning to argue and bemoan every call that isn’t in their favor?
Western Conference Finals --If Mark Cuban can turn around the Mavericks with his money and enthusiasm, why not the Cubs?
—Sticking with the baseball thing for a second, in baseball, they always say good pitching always beats good hitting. Is that what we’re seeing in the Western Conference Finals? From the Dallas Mavericks, of all teams?
The Mavs got burned in Game 1 by 32 fast-break points from Nash and the Suns up-tempo game. They preached defense and stopping the Suns in transition before Game 2. Since that time, they’ve allowed 25 fast-break points combined in Games 2 & 3 (and just four—4!—in Game 3). Neither team scored a 100 in the Game 3, which is always to the advantage of whoever the Suns are playing. Seems like Phoenix has have run into a wall—good defense.
—The MVP, Steve Nash, has gently called out his teammates, saying they need to show more fight and have “been a little too passive” at times. I don’t think it’s long before his teammates start fighting back and asking for a piece of the MVP Trophy. After all, they helped him win, and now he's calling them out?
--Hard to believe, but Raja Bell really could be the key to the series for the Suns. Say that again, slowly. Raja Bell.
—Two words (in the voice of Christopher Walken): “More Barbosa”.
Back later this week with NGS II Finalist Assignment #2…
After a wild weekend, which saw my wife and I buy our first home, my newborn daughter baptized, followed by Monday’s announcement and the subsequent turn of events in NGS II, I haven’t had time to collect my thoughts and put out an actual post about the NBA Playoffs.
In the spirit of that, here’s a bunch of things I’ve been collecting on an internal notepad the past few days and need to get them out. I’m fearful that if I don’t, I’m going to turn into a sports version of Ashton Kutcher in The Butterfly Effect.
Mavs-Spurs
–It was clear to from the first quarter of the Mavs-Spurs game who was should win. You just never know with the officiating these days if the right team will win. Don’t get me wrong, had the Spurs won, they would have semi-deserved it with that amazing run in the third and fourth quarter, but I was beginning to believe that David Stern, seated just rows away from Mark Cuban, really did have it in for him. Stern almost smiled at times (at least it seemed that way on TV) as the Spurs made their run back from 20 down. Cuban was glaring out the corner of his eye in Stern’s direction. Can we get a Stern-Cuban match as the main event at Wrestle Mania next year?
—Is there anyone who gets more calls, but complains more in big spots than Tim Duncan? Where were the fouls that they called on Dampier and Van Horn? Even when TNT was bold enough to show the replays, they weren’t there. The call on Van Horn in the 4th quarter, where his hands are straight up and Duncan moves into him is incredible. I must have rewound TiVo five times. I was speechless (probably because my wife, four year old son and baby daughter were all asleep). When Duncan commits the same fouls that are called on these guys, he complains every time. This reminds me…
—If this career in basketball doesn’t pan out, Duncan could always teach lessons to the Hollywood crowd on how to act surprised at their name being called during awards season with his “Who me?!? No…It..Can’t..Be…Me” Face.
—The Mavs first half was a thing of beauty, more impressive because it was the Dallas Mavericks of all teams, on the road, against the Spurs in a Game 7. Scoring on 14 of their first 16 possessions and shooting nearly 77% until about 2 minutes to go in the second quarter, it was one of the best Game 7 starts I’ve ever seen. They were playing in a different gear than San Antonio, from the out-of-bounds plays to defense, to loose balls—that first half set the tone and gave the Mavericks the confidence they needed late in the game.
—Did anyone else see the David Hasselhoff poster in the crowd during the game? Was that a Dirk Nowitzki fan? A family member? Does this in fact prove Norm MacDonald’s theory that Germans, indeed, love David Hasselhoff?
Suns-Clippers
—Just too magical to believe the Clippers could win, I guess. But it doesn’t help your cause when you play differently than you did most of the series. The Clippers had gone with a smaller lineup during their wins; a lineup which could get back down the floor on made shots and defend the perimeter well. Suddenly, Chris Kaman’s back logging significant minutes in Game 7. The Suns made him look like his feet were in concrete (which isn’t a difficult task).
—Where do the Clippers go from here? The ultimate crossroads for a downtrodden franchise is the year after it gets over the hump. So what do the Clippers do? Does Donald Sterling pony up again this summer for a couple key free agents like he did last summer? Does Elgin Baylor keep Cassell? It is conceivable that that Baylor, in a span of about three years could go from one of the ‘Worst Executives of the Year’ to ‘Executive of the Year’ to one of the ‘Worst Executives of the Year’. It all depends on the next five months.
—We’ll know everything we need to know about the Suns tonight in Game 1. Nash’s legs, their streaky shooting, their size difference to Dallas and if D’Antoni can match wits with Avery Johnson, because Gregg Popovich couldn’t. Dallas is a much different beast than the two L.A.’s. Now is when Phoenix needs Amare Stoudamire most.
Pistons-Heat
—About two weeks ago, I wrote about how Shaq had lost the 'eye of the tiger'. While I said Shaq wasn’t the dominate force he always was, he could be dominant every other game. I figured with all that rest from taking the Nets out in five games, he’d be a major force last night. But after watching the game, it’s even more clear to me that Dwyane Wade, Jason Williams, Antoine Walker and Co. have to carry this team. He was slow on defense—didn’t move his feet and got into foul trouble, only playing 29 minutes. This was in the face of a Pistons team that was a little tired from their seven-game series with the Cavs. If the Heat are going to win this series and the next, they need more from the Diesel in the games you can count on him at full strength (and to keep him away from guarding Detroit’s high screens.)
—I am anxiously waiting another “guaransheed” win for the Pistons in Game 2. It’s beyond comical.
—Still am not of the opinion that a win in the conference finals or a series win in the conference finals justifies Pat Riley booting out Stan Van Gundy. Not even winning an NBA Championship will do it. You just don’t treat “friends” like that.
There, it feels better to have emptied those thoughts--ready to work on the first finalist assignment now…and pack for the move…and change the baby’s diaper…
I was a witness last night. From this day forward, I’ll know where I was when it happened. I just can’t figure out exactly what I was a witness to.
Was it the day that LeBron James became without a doubt, the best basketball player on the planet? Or the day we saw the mighty Pistons fall, thus ending the reign of "team chemistry basketball" in the NBA?
It’s both.
After James’ 32 points, 5 rebounds, 5 assists, 2 steals and one block in the Cleveland Cavaliers Game 5 upset win over the Detroit Pistons at the Palace, I’m anything but innocent anymore.
I can enjoy the displays that Kobe Bryant puts on, I can still love the Los Angeles Lakers and I can still admire Dwyane Wade, Steve Nash and Dirk Nowitzki. But I can no longer deny LeBron is far more advanced at 21 than anyone in NBA history. What I think I need most right now is to be enrolled in the ‘Witness Protection Program’.
We still can’t compare him to Jordan (which is almost becoming a compliment to James)—he passes like Michael never could. Nor rightfully can we call him Magic—he scores and drives and hits jumpers like Johnson never could; but we can say that LeBron James is fulfilling the prophecy.
What do we do now that we know?
Maybe we wait for his rival to emerge—like Magic, Michael and Larry had each other. Because, if we’re truthful with ourselves, there’s no debating James’ has jumped up a level. Sure, he’ll need to win some titles—but who else has or has ever had the potential since Magic to average a triple double for the entire season?
But there have only been a handful of players who see the game this way—hitting game winners, dropping precision passers for game-winners, doing all the little things and saying all the right things. James trusts his team mates, yes, but he trusts himself even more. While we complain about Kobe’s two versions of selfishness, we LeBron to be more selfish.
Forget the MVP debate; it’s clearly obvious to anyone who’s watched the regular season and the playoffs that LeBron James is the best basketball player in the NBA. The way James understands the game is uncanny. Take his numbers in the regular season, (31.4 points, 7.0 rebounds, 6.6 assists per game) and the playoffs as an example: against Washington, James averaged 35.7 points, 7.5 rebounds and 5.7 assists per game while shooting 50% from the field. He had to score more against the Wizards and Arenas because it was that kind of series. Against Detroit, LeBron has averaged 25.4 points, 8.2 rebounds and 7 assists per game. With a grind it out, defensive minded Pistons team focusing on him, LeBron’s numbers are extraordinary.
Last night, I was a witness to something else: perhaps the end of ‘team chemistry basketball’ as perfected for the past three seasons by the Detroit Pistons.
Maybe they went away from the game plan, maybe they’ve become to cocky and coasted for the past three months, taking every other game off, or maybe they’re just a victim of LeBron James.
But what it must be like for Detroit right now, questioning everything. Lindsay Hunter taking your last good shot of the game? Missing out on the opportunity to capitalize at the end when Eric Snow throws the ball away? These aren’t your older brother’s Pistons. They lost three straight games to a Cleveland team that didn’t even have their second best scorer. Do they even have a game plan for defending LeBron?
The Pistons, since beating the Los Angeles Lakers in the 2004 NBA Finals, have been amassing an ego not rivaled since Willie Beamen in Any Given Sunday. Detroit approached the last four months of this season like the 2004 Lakers did.
Which is why they’re cooked—the Pistons became the exact opposite of what they once were.
This series has implications well beyond this year. Think of what it would to Detroit’s psyche from now on. How would they react next year to facing the Cavs? In future years? By beating the Pistons now, when James and the Cavs weren’t supposed to, is bigger and has greater impact than beating them in a year or two. To Rip, Sheed, Chauncey, Big Ben and Tayshaun, losing this year will be inexplicable.
What we’re really witnessing is the changing landscape of the NBA. Used to be, a team would win games—individuals would entertain. But now, no longer do you need players who fit each role and get along. Start with a couple scorers (preferably one All-Star)—with speed and range on their jump shots—and surround them with role players. That’s more or less what Dallas, Phoenix, Cleveland and L.A. (Lakers) have tried to do. And three of those teams are still playing—all with a 3-2 series lead.
The only thing “guaransheed” right now is that LeBron James has made ‘The Leap’ and the Pistons way of basketball is on the verge of extinction.
We haven’t seen a player this dynamic at this age or a style shift like this since the 1980’s. I was five months old when Magic made ‘The Leap’ in the 1980 NBA Finals. Probably still in diapers when Larry became a ‘Legend’ and had a short attention span, like any kid, who would rather sing the Gatorade commercials when Michael first became ‘Jordan’. If I ignore this, I’m missing out of one of the biggest moments in the history of the NBA. Not many players get there, and no ones done it since the aforementioned “Big Three” did it in the 1980’s. And rarely are there shifts in the formula for building a competitive team like we’ve seen with the Suns, Mavs and Cavs.
Until now.
I was watching when LeBron James made ‘The Leap’ and when the NBA shifted eras. Can I get a witness?
With the report that Larry Brown is about to become a very rich man (again) after he is eventually bought out as head coach of the New York Knicks—that’s $48 million for Brown in one calendar year, for those playing at home—I tried to make sense of it all.
What would cause a man to take a job like that in the first place? At the time of his hiring, Brown had accomplished so much in his career—but was getting older and facing much uncertainty with the Knicks.
Was it really the money? Because after one season in New York, Larry Brown is limping away wounded from his “dream job”. His impeccable record as a head coach is taking a hit and likewise, his ego.
After a trip to Blockbuster, I think I’ve got it all figured out. Brown was Al Pacino’s inspiration for his part in last fall’s Matthew McConaughey/Pacino vehicle Two for the Money.
The similarities between Pacino’s character in the film and Larry Brown are eerily similar.
Pacino plays Walter Abrams, the head of a New York gambling organization that “advises” sports gamblers. Part of the twist is that Abrams is a recovering gambling addict who can’t help but continue to get in on the action. Abrams also has some health problems that he occasionally uses to his advantage. But Pacino’s biggest contribution to this movie and the role are his speeches—which are highly entertaining and fast paced rants.
He pushes protégé Brandon Lang (McConaughey) from an 82% average in picking college football winners to a massive losing streak and basically shatters his confidence.
Stop me if you’ve heard this before.
Larry Brown plays a basketball coach, the head coach of the New York Knicks that is the key guy to a once proud franchise trying to rebound. Brown has bounced from city to city, franchise to franchise and league to league in his 30 odd years as a basketball coach. Basically, he’s what Bob Dylan wrote about in Like a Rolling Stone. Sometimes, he uses his health problems as an advantage (see: acid reflux), and his biggest contribution to games are his entertaining and painfully slow post-game press conferences.
In New York, Brown has pushed his players like Abrams pushed Lang in Two for the Money. Abrams made Lang become a personality, John Anthony. Brown makes his players mold to his personality. Sometimes that can work—but not when you’re dealing with the players that Brown is.
The careers of Stephon Marbury and Steve Francis are proof that at this point, they can’t be changed. They don’t play defense, they don’t play smart, they are infectious on and off the court (in a bad way) and don’t care what others think of them. These players are often referred to as “me-first” wanna-be superstars. And Larry doesn’t do well with those kinds of players, let alone build a team around them.
Still, the question is, how does Brown let himself get into this situation to begin with?
Maybe, like with Abrams and Lang, the money thrown at him by Knicks President Isiah Thomas was too tempting. Who could resist that kind of cash, even if there is a good chance you could fail miserably and tarnish your coaching legacy?
Something certainly caused Brown to ignore the warning signs of taking this job: 1) the roster of players who read like the tagline from , the “not ready for prime-time players”, 2) the pressure of the fan base, 3) the clueless owner, 4) the losing attitude that has become apart of the Knicks, 5) the large contracts that allowed for little flexibility for the present or near future and above all else 6) Isiah Thomas.
Getting into bed with Zeke is like shacking up with Lindsay Lohan. Sure looks enticing, but then you remember everywhere else they’ve probably been. The repercussions are endless.
Aside from that, here’s the main reason as to why Brown took this job—he really is like Abrams in Two for the Money–a compulsive gambler who can’t step away from the thrill. Only it isn’t large sums of money Brown dangles out there each time he takes a risk—but his legacy and his health become more questionable with time.
It is the only way to explain why the man can’t find a place to call home, why everywhere he goes seems to be perfect at first, but sours like milk after time.
The only way to explain Larry Brown is by using the argument Abrams makes in Two for the Money about the real reason people gamble. The addicted don’t gamble to win; they don’t even really gamble for fear of losing. To the addicted it’s the thrill that comes from losing, to know you lost it all, but you’re still alive to tell the tale.
For a consummate winner like Larry Brown, who always turns a franchise around, maybe that’s what it takes. Maybe the only thing left for coaches like Brown, Riley and Jackson is to just keep going, push as hard as possible, until you ultimately fail. Work and work until you put yourself in that ultimate no-win situation.
At least Brown will get paid handsomely for failing—not many can say that. And that’s perhaps the biggest failure from this: dealing with the idea the Knicks and Isiah Thomas of all people are willing to pay him to not coach.
Now, I understand the mindset of Larry Brown, but I won’t count him out. Soon, he’ll be coaching another team and further testing his addiction’s limit. You can bet on it.
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.
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 Nash 2005: 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 Johnson 1990: 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
