How Can You Find It?

I'm still in Rome. Behold my long conversation with Rick Telander, on the subject of Heaven Is a Playground and the anniversary photo show.

A Dinner of Onions

You may also know me as Eric Freeman. Check out more of my writing at The Baseline.

Shoals has a new column on the psychology behind the LeBron/Kobe debate. And make sure to check out the latest podcast.

One of Phil Jackson's most notable tactics as Zen Master is his yearly tradition of selecting books for each of his players to read. He considers the player's personality and needs, and makes a decision based on all available factors. It's one of the clearest reminders that he's a coach who respects and values his players as people, not just basketball players.

Most years, we hear a few of the selections through the grapevine. But last night, Phil's girlfriend and Lakers Executive VP of Business Operations Jeanie Buss put all of this year's picks on Twitter. Let us analyze some of the most notable choices and figure out what Phil sees in his team.

Player: Kobe Bryant
Book: Montana 1948 by Larry Watson
Synopsis: A small-town sheriff finds out that his brother has raped and murdered numerous Native-American women. He finds himself torn between his dual loyalties to family and the law.
Meaning: Wow, Phil doesn't screw around, eh? Forget for a minute the connections to Kobe's legal troubles and consider that the reader is meant to identify with the sheriff. The common perception of Kobe is that he's torn between his need to score and his desire to win as part of the larger team. Often, he appears to toggle between each pole, unable to find a happy medium. What Montana 1948 teaches us is that no matter which option you choose, you must live with the consequences and emotions of forgoing the other choice. It's about living in the gray area, something Kobe must embrace to realize his full potential as a teammate and star.



Player: Pau Gasol
Book: 2666 by Roberto Bolaño
Synopsis: A five-part, nearly 900-page novel following a disparate group of characters, with many plot threads, including serial murders and the possible end of the world, connected only by the most tenuous of threads.
Meaning: This choice is more about what it represents than the actual content of the novel. 2666 is notoriously difficult, a full-on experience that rewards patience, creative interpretation, and the reader putting as much as he can into reading. In short, Phil wants Pau to push himself, to put forth so much effort that he'll push his critical abilities to new heights. Just like on the court, he needs to stop being content and get the most out of his considerable natural talent.

Player: Ron Artest
Book: Sacred Hoops by Phil Jackson
Synopsis: A coaching legend details his philosophy of basketball as the ultimate in spiritual communication among teammates.
Meaning: This is one of the few choices Buss explained: apparently Phil likes to give new players an introduction to his approach to basketball. Sorry, but I don't buy it. The more likely explanation is that Phil knows Artest is borderline insane, tried to think of a suitable book, couldn't come up with anything, and just picked up one of the copies of Sacred Hoops he had around the house. The good news is that Ron-Ron is so sincere that he'll undoubtedly take every message in the book to heart. It's just unclear what it'll all mean to him.



Player: Shannon Brown
Book: Dreams from My Father by Barack Obama
Synopsis: Our president reflects on growing up as a mixed-race child in America.
Meaning: Yeah, Brown is light-skinned, but this isn't about race. Brown was an athletic dynamo of a star at Michigan State, was drafted by Cleveland in the hope that he could be a sidekick for LeBron, and seemed like a bust before he made it to LA. In other words, he grew up with one identity, found that it didn't entirely suit him, and now must adjust to a new life as a role player. Dreams from My Father can help him realize that his past identity doesn't need to be cast away, that it can constitute his adult self just as much as the new role he must take on.

Player: Luke Walton
Book: The Monkey Wrench Gang by Edward Abbey
Synopsis: Four ecologically-conscious misfits rage against the machinery of pollution.
Meaning: As the son of Bill, Luke probably likes to get high in nature. But that's a passive activity, and sometimes complacent appreciation isn't enough. You must rise up and take what's needed for Mother Earth. (Note: Phil gave this book to Luc Longley during the Bulls years, with disastrous results.)



Player: Lamar Odom
Book: The Right Mistake by Walter Mosley
Synopsis: An ex-con gets out of prison after 27 years and becomes a fount of wisdom. He shares his story and advises others.
Meaning: The most inspired choice of all. Lamar has been through a lot in his life, and he's come out on the other side better for it. Phil knows this, and wants him to become an agent of change. Lamar has the power -- it's up to him to make the next step and reach out to others.

Player: Derek Fisher
Book: Soul on Ice by Eldridge Cleaver
Synopsis: A collection of political essays by a then-incarcerated leader of the Black Panther Party.
Meaning: Fisher is basically the definition of a veteran, a dependable, serious soul on which the rest of the team can rely. But he's also safe, so maybe it's time to inject a little fire into his system.

Player: Adam Morrison
Book: Che: A Graphic Biography by Sid Jacobson and Ernie Colon
Synopsis: The life of the revolutionary Che Guevara in comic book form.
Meaning: Look, Phil, we all know AmMo has no future with the Lakers, but that doesn't mean you have to slap him in the face. Morrison is a noted fan of Guevara, so it's clear his coach put little thought into this choice. And if you're going with a Che-related work, why not pick something with a little more heft, like the 800-page Jon Lee Anderson bio, or even the Criterion Collection version of Soderbergh's four-hour biopic? You might as well have given him Con Air for its heartfelt portrayal of a man struggling with diabetes.

Friday Didn't Happen

You know Twitter has #FF, when no one says anything, or responds to anything, and the whole thing turns into an open-air bazaar for absolutely nothing? In honor of that, I'm doing a quick post here that's similarly pointless.

First, up top, an absolutely amazing drawing of Artis Gilmore from an old SI that, were this several years ago, we would be trying to put on a t-shirt. Now, I think the most we can do is put it up here and wave our arms some. Unless The Vault, which rules, wants to partner with us to do a series of old illo tees curated by us. Just a thought.

Last basketball: Very soon, I'm dropping a really long Gilbert Arenas piece over at The Baseline that I swear you will all love. Stay tuned.

Maybe you noticed that the store ads disappeared (for now) and ye olde Amazon widget moved up. I've decided to get back in the swing of that, partly for the added revenue stream, but in large part because I like writing blurbs about non-sports stuff. Up there now: Cooperstown Confidential, a Bloomsbury book that's less about scandal-mongering and more turning it's grotesquely, indiscriminantly mythic—and totally supra-American—past into something more believable. I think it saves history, while creating a bridge between those days and the imperfect present. I hope we manage that in the new book. Steven Johnson's The Ghost Map had me talking about cholera and shit to anyone who would listen in the week before my wedding, but is really worth it for the finale, where he smushes together the last sentence of every magazine feature he's ever written about civilization, evolution, terrorism, health, and the value of cities.

The Damned Don't Cry is one of those rare movies where Joan Crawford is both scary and hot, as well as a genre pic with layers, or maybe two genres at once. This coming from someone who watches at least one forgettable noir joint a week. I still don't get why there's a song on Africa Brass with the same name, and would prefer to not look it up. The Big O is well past my cut-off year for basketball memoirs, but Robertson's an intensely private man who decided to open up here, and as with his game and personality, you can feel the anger simmering just beneath the stately (okay, sometimes staid) prose. They Cleared the Lane is not only the single best book about race in the early NBA, but also, in its eye for detail, gives you some invaluable info and understanding of that era in general. Breaks my heart that this isn't more widely-read.

Finally, Heaven and Earth's I Can't Seem to Forget About You. Buying this import new is expensive, but there are cheaper used copies up there. The kind of sweet soul so haunting, and uneasy, it borders on scary. Oddly, "Let Me Back In" might be the song I most associate with my wedding weekend.

UPDATE: New column on Arenas now up and running.

Word, Sound

In this episode, Ken and Dan are joined by Ken’s college friend Andy Manoff, who spent a year in Ethopia and ended up teaching girls to play basketball. Not a euphemism. Also, Andy has a story about reading a book near an NBA player, which leads to a larger discussion of NBA books/movies (including this fine book by Alexander Wolff).





Also, Dan finds out he has a surprising number of songs with “Africa” in the title:

“Ball of Fire” - Israel Vibration
“African Children” - Aswad
“Africa Center of the World” - Fela Kuti
“African Walk (Zamunda)” - Madlib
“African Woman” - Burning Spear
“Thank You For Talkin’ To Me Africa” - Sly and the Family Stone

For other means of obtaining this program, try iTunes and the XML feed.