A New Shade of Awesome

Last Thursday was a day, wasn't it? The trade dust finally settled. The Bulls traded their former future (Tyrus Thomas) for a new one (the salary-cap void he left behind). They also traded two saviors, both Thomas, who was once on some next-level can't-miss shit, and John Salmons, who arrived last year in time to scare Boston and conjure a false vision of the future. The Suns hung onto Amare now that he's been scared straight (no George Bluth). The Rockets got Kevin Martin. The Blazers got the current Marcus Camby while they wait for the better one to get healthy. The Bucks might have made the playoffs. The Celtics united the world's best shooter with its best dunker. The Mavs and Cavs basked in the glow that comes from helping the Wizards destroy themselves and effectively exile anyone ever infected with Gilbertitis.

And, of course, the Knicks completed their science project. After careful consideration, so many ingredients thrown around, and a concluding bang, the smoke in the lab cleared and the Knicks had actually managed to get two-star far enough under the salary cap.

It took Donnie Walsh 22 months to sell off and swap out the assets he was left to administer after the franchise entered existential bankruptcy under Isiah Thomas. The Knicks sent Darko Milicic to Minnesota for Brian Cardinal. Then, they traded Nate Robinson for a player somehow even more grating and circus-worthy, Eddie House, along with two expiring contracts from prep heroes J.R. Giddens and Bill Walker. After that, things got crazy. As you know, the Brickers wound up with Tracy McGrady, a personal victory because never before has my favorite team employed my favorite player. New York also acquired Sergio Rodriguez. The cost was bizarre: Houston got Jared Jeffries, Jordan Hill, a Top-1 protected draft pick in 2011 (Houston can swap picks with New York), and a top-5 protected pick in 2012. Appending New York's McGrady acquisition to the Kevin Martin trade meant that Rodriguez and Larry Hughes swapped roster spots.



About the cost: When Isiah signed Jared Jeffries to a bad contract, I threw up in my mouth. When New York drafted Jordan Hill, I threw my phone against a fence. I wasn't upset to see either leave, though I don't understand why any team wants Jeffries. (Shoals claims that he fits in with Houston's phalanx of longer wing defenders, falling in line behind Battier and Ariza.) Trading Hill so early into his career might seem shortsighted, or tantamount to an embarrassing admission of error, but the latter is a good thing. The Knicks should, indeed, be ashamed as they start Chris Duhon but read about Brandon Jennings and Tywon Lawson. Marinate in that failure. Never forget! The 2011 draft pick "protection" is goofy. Retaining the rights to the top overall selection is like having the pick protected against alien invasion, which seems only slightly less likely than New York winning the right to draft Hassan Whiteside or Harrison Barnes. The 2012 protection is aspirational--it's not even full-on lottery protected because the Knicks anticipate annual playoff trips resuming by then.

About the benefit: TMac, motherfuckers! TMac! He might not drive or elevate as he once did, but he remains lovable, sympathetic, exciting Tracy. He improves the Knicks and makes them far more interesting, even if only for about 30 games.

About the real benefit, and the path forward: As you've perhaps read and heard, Tracy's contract expires at the end of the season. (This is a little-known fact.) When McGrady's terms of employment are taken in concert with the odd bottom line that only Wilson Chandler, Danilo Gallinari, Eddy Curry, and Toney Douglas are affirmatively under contract for next year, the Brickers anticipate having more than $30 million in cap room. Perhaps you've also been made privy to the plan to sign two of the top-shelf free agents: LeBron, Dwyane, Bosh, and so forth. The best-case scenario for New York envisions LeBron and Wade or LeBron and some big man signing with the Knicks and the roster being filled in with minimum-compensation players. That's also the problem.

Why would any premier player want to join a team with so little money for anyone outside of the rotation's top 6? "Rotation" should be in quotation marks because Eddy Curry doesn't play, even when physically capable. Why play alongside so few proven commodities? Bereft of recent success or any rational path toward a title? Teams with two star players that haven't won championships have had stronger supporting casts. To be honest, it is a real problem. No marketing gimmicks or promised media exposure will improve Gallinari's defense or conjure a shot blocker.

Rather, it was a real problem. Last week's events have made clear that the Knicks should forgo a common basketball solution and instead make history: The Knicks should become a bank holding company, the first NBA team to ever undertake such a conversion. Problem solved. Put the champagne on ice, and read the FAQ about this obvious solution should the logic behind it elude you upon first glance.



A bank? What? What is a bank holding company, anyway?
Let's leave the economic nitty gritty to the finance guys and deal in basic terms. Pursuant to the Bank Holding Company Act of 1956, such organizations are those that exercise control over a bank. By investing in so many toxic assets over the years (Curry and Jeffries, Allan Houston's degenerating knees, Stephon Marbury, etc.), leveraging those unreliable bets to prop up short-term viability at the expense of systemic health, and effectively issuing awful loans (paying salaries to so many foreseeable losers who could not deliver the expected return), the Knicks have surely earned technical, if not actual, distinction as the kind of bank that America loves. So this conversion shouldn't be too difficult from a financial standpoint.

The gift and the curse of being a bank holding company is that you must register with the Federal Reserve and comply with Fed regulations. This can elevate regulatory scrutiny, but it also gives bank holding companies access to the Fed's discount window and makes raising capital much easier. Fed loans, stock sales, stock repurchasing--it's all easier as a holding company.

Prominent examples of bank holding companies include Goldman Sachs, CIT, GMAC, and American Express. Look how varied that group is--they weren't even all commercial or investment banks before converting. More importantly, what's the one sort of entity logically missing from that set of peer institutions? A reckless financial concern with a focus on entertainment and sports. A basketball team. Synergy!



Does this mean that the Knicks will have to leave the NBA?
Have to? The Knicks should want to.

First--yes, it's unlikely that the league and the other NBA teams would sit by and allow one of its members to become a bank holding company. There would be complicated legal questions about financial regulation, antitrust, and labor laws. There would be confusion about whether the Knicks control a bank, and about whether a financial-sector holding company could own an NBA team. Unless David Stern and the other owners amend the bylaws to allow for bank holding companies to compete as members, the Knicks probably can't stay in the NBA.

But the Knicks shouldn't want to stay. This conversion is all about capital and artificial ceilings. The NBA's salary cap is too restrictive for a team like the Knicks, which is situated in the most populous city, is supported by fabulously wealthy people, is about to have no problem raising huge sums of cash, and is using a basketball model predicated on outspending and outglitzing everyone. Replacing the stymying regulation of the NBA with the more commodious oversight of the Fed will allow the Knicks to--pun alert--break the bank this summer. If the team opts out of the NBA and converts to a bank holding company, it will be able to sign James, Wade, Bosh, and Joe Johnson. There will be no cap. New York could probably sign John Wall after convincing him to not enter the draft and simply leave college for a unique opportunity. There really would be no limits on what New York could spend.*

Suddenly, a team with a prospective roster of Johnson, Bosh, the four Knick holdovers, and a bunch of league-minimum journeymen would transform into an All-NBA First Team supplemented by an elite bench. The Knicks could even re-sign David Lee under this model. The Fed discount window would provide the Knicks with low-cost capital. Similarly, the team could more easily issue equity if it felt that diversifying its ownership were a worthwhile cost of quickly raising money for operations, payroll, and investments.

*See below in the TARP section for one potential limit.



Doesn't leaving the NBA frustrate all attempts to win an NBA championship, the entire purpose of signing free agents in the first place?
It does, but the question is myopic. The Knicks would leave the NBA and become a barnstorming team. Barnstorming, the Knicks could play anyone, anywhere, anytime. It goes without saying that it would schedule an annual July best-of-seven series against the NBA champion to determine the true world champion. Emphasis on world. Think about the possibilities:

- New York could play challenge-match exhibitions against holdover NBA teams. For example, it could play the Bulls in the United Center during a Chicago home stand on an off day between pedestrian Bulls games against the Bucks and the Nets. Or it could host the Lakers as the team killed time on the East Coast between games against the Celtics and the Sixers.

- New York could play against a non-NCAA-sanctioned college all-star team in a "pickup" game that "just happens" to take shape at some point. So long as the college kids weren't paid, they probably could remain eligible after the ensuing NCAA investigation.

- New York could do a European tour, visiting Josh Childress and competing against league champions from each country. It could be called the Transatlantic Invitational. And, without any scheduling obligations imposed by an entity like the NBA, the Knicks could generate big ticket sales and media exposure by playing specialty games. Just consider the intrigue on Twitter and UStream when the Knicks face their old friend and nemesis by playing whichever Italian league team hires Stephon Marbury.

- New York, with its superstars, could continue to cultivate the Chinese basketball market while opening up markets in other countries where the lead-footed NBA has yet to establish infrastructure and regular presence.

(It seems fair to assume that New York also would enter and dominate some kind of intramural league for bankers and lawyers. You know, something akin to one of those proverbial "lawyer's games" where people like Barack Obama and Eric Holder would be found were they not running the country.)

See the opportunities? The Fed has no scheduling rules. Were the Knicks to compete against the best teams from around the world and to then defeat the reigning NBA champion, would anyone really look down upon the accomplishments? Perhaps the strength of the Knicks' schedule would be questioned. However, enough NBA exhibitions, enough games against national teams, and enough games against champions from strong leagues across Europe, plus all that travel, should assuage concerns.

The Knicks would lose out on 82 NBA games a year and a chance to play in the league's playoff system. The Brickers would also leave behind their history, to some degree. No one would ever fail to associate New York with Willis Reed or Patrick Ewing, but the franchise's legacy would be altered by converting to a bank holding company. However "altered" doesn't mean "diminished," and the conversion not only would create a new business and basketball model, but also would create so much novelty buzz that the organization's standing could be enhanced. Its reputation could be restored through innovation and relentless focus on worldwide basketball supremacy.



What will the Knicks do instead?
See above.

Would the Knicks receive TARP money? Is the TARP program even still going on? Isn't that taxpayer money?
As a bank holding company, the Knicks would be TARP eligible. Though the organization has done an admirable job mitigating its exposure to troubled assets with incalculable values, and though it didn't have as much mortgage liability as some of its soon-to-be-peer institutions, it nonetheless still faces losing gambles (Curry's contract) and environmental difficulty (the NBA's economic model is failing). The Knicks could use the cash flow, as could the NBA. Though the Knicks will be leaving the league upon conversion, the team will remain a competitor in the basketball-talent market place. The sooner that a team like the Knicks gets back to spending lavishly on top-end players, the sooner the basketball capital markets will thaw. More money in circulation will ensure that top talent stays in the industry and that basketball--either produced by the NBA or by the Knicks--continues to fuel the American entertainment economy. That's something all taxpayers should support.

Is TARP even still a thing? Well, TARP money issued to other financial institutions has been repaid, mostly. (AIG, Chrysler, Discover, and a few other firms remain outstanding public investments.) But the program has not been fully extinguished. Further, it was so amorphously constructed, so hastily implemented, and so haphazardly supervised that the Knicks can surely find a way to participate. Never underestimate the extent to which Timothy Geithner will be willing to help a bank.

One consideration that would likely influence the Knicks' decision about whether to participate in TARP is that TARP money has come with limits on executive compensation. Though no one is proposing that James Dolan or Donnie Walsh receive an exorbitant salary, the principle behind concerns about excessive compensation surely would be implicated by paying players such high salaries. Someone like LeBron could probably command $40 or $50 million a year. However, this complication might be overstated. TARP's limits on executive compensation were motivated by populist anger directed toward bank executives who appeared to be profiting from the financial ruin which they helped to create in the first place. There are no such concerns here, and the likelihood of the Knicks turning a profit as the team conquered the basketball world makes New York's conversion into a bank holding company an attractive safe harbor for public funds.



What else will happen if the Knicks convert into a bank holding company?
This conversion will allow the Knicks to begin originating mortgages, something the team has always wanted to do. Now, the team can sponsor Hamptons Night, Columbia County Night, Florida Keys Night, Harlem Renaissance Night, Section 8 Night, Co-Op Conversion Night, and other promotions during which fans can come enjoy basketball and sign the paperwork needed for a dream home, or to finally secure that ideal fourth property on the water. This grows the financial pie at the Knicks' disposal, and it allows for the unique circumstance in which someone like LeBron James also could be the Real Estate King of New York. Try to match that, Akron. Serving as a mortgage broker will allow the Knicks to diversify their revenue streams and (hopefully--fingers crossed) tap into the eventual real estate rebound that Knick insiders forecast as taking hold in early Q3 of FY 2011.

The Knicks also will be offering competitive-rate CDs and free pens.

Say What You Feel

Let that sink in, then go visit my in-depth musings on the topic over at The Baseline.

P.S. The word "musings" should be outlawed, I'm just in too much of a rush to do better right now.

P.P.S. Don't sleep on the newest FD presents DoC podcast. Here for you!

The Sound of Music

This week's FDPTDOCNBAPC (the podcast) features no me, but instead, a special all-Knicks segment with the eminent Seth Rosenthal of Posting and Toasting. True story: I was once standing next to Seth with a "Bethlehem Shoals" name-tag on, and he was asked, in all seriousness, if "Seth Rosenthal" was his wacky blog alias.

I will defer to Dan and Ken themselves when it comes to further explaining the episode. Also, you know they write stuff over there sometimes, don't you?

THE GUTS:



Songs:

"Mellow Yellow"-Donovan
"He Got Game"-Public Enemy
"DangerDoom"-Danger Mouse
"Viva Las Vegas" by The Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash

If you want to settle down and make a serious commitment, try iTunes and the XML feed.

Know the Unknown

New episode of "FreeDarko Presents the Disciples of Clyde NBA Podcast." The Original Two plus Shoals this time around. Having not listened to it yet, I cannot tell you what they talk about. Surprise yourself!

UPDATE: Dan says that this is what they talk about:

Shoals dropped by, of course, to give us his unique point of view on the recent free agent and trading activity.

Left to their own devices, Ken and Dan discuss their blackmail plan for Lebron, the “2010″ plan for most teams, and then figure out what basketball writers would be good GMs.

Tuneage:

“Ragged Wood” by Fleet Foxes
“SugarFoot” by Black Joe Lewis
“Coming Home” by Maxine Nightengale
“And So It Goes” by Nick Lowe
“Stormy Sky” by The Kinks

UPDATE: Fixed the file in the player. Thanks for your patience and piety.

Someone's Favorite

In a perfect world, all of you would read The Baseline all day long. But I recognize there are differences. So how about taking a look at the following FD-friendly posts:

-Sleep-deprived column on how messy complex salaries have gotten and what it means for fans.

-Death of the mini-max dream.

-Is it time to redefine tampering?

-Why Nike should want the public to know that LeBron got dunked on.

Hide Ya Face

If you've not yet done so, please read Shoals's nearly perfect articulation of Ron Artest. As I think about the piece, I like it even more for having been posted during the nation's birthday weekend. Seems like a subtle, even if unintended, ribbing for all of Ron's self-righteous detractors. He enjoys freedom and opportunity in this land, too.

Also, please check the latest recommendations posted in the Amazon widget along the right side of this page. Clicking through means good things for FD, for the products endorsed, for Amazon, and for your karma. Just clicking through before buying something else is helpful. The karma bit's been verified by science, by the way.

If ever there were a summer made for Rasheed Wallace, this is the one. The draft yielded few sure vessels of transformation, and free agency has mostly offered existing contenders new resources for strengthening their positions. (Unless folks are expecting exuberant Turkish people to help push Toronto to the top of the Eastern Conference.) Should it actually arrive, enabled by The 2010 Free Agent Class and a coming draft haul expected to greatly exceed that from last month, the much-discussed New League Order remains at least a year away. For the time being, teams with stars, systems, and identities all firmly established are jostling to find the element that will deliver a championship. Rasheed Wallace is playing with house money as these squads gamble.



We already know that history is likely to speak ill of Roscoe. It will harp upon his volatility. It will almost jeer as it calls him an underachiever. And it surely will subsume his contribution to Detroit's recent championship, bundling it with "however" and "if only" while emphasizing the technicals and the meltdowns. Rasheed will go out as grousing, mercurial, unreliable. His enormous talents will only damn him, as the critics, whose voices appear to ring loudest, cite his gifts as evidence of the disappointment he's authored. We need not even wait for validation; already, the historic Portland collapse from 2000 is an iconic moment for all the wrong reasons. A family man, a concerned member of his communities, a thoughtful fellow--makes no difference. Rasheed is nonetheless cast as the embodiment of failure, a source of the Jail Blazer malignancy and a paradigm of the problematic NBA player.

Rasheed's story would be different had he won more, or, in the alternative, had he been a lesser talent. Fair or not, he has been crushed by falling bricks from the crumbling foundation laid by expectation. The popular story of Roscoe never cares to take up trifling details such as his natural deference, or his preference for serving as an equal and not a star. Our sports culture so thoroughly disdains "wasting" talent that Rasheed Wallace's career is almost wholly anathema. People see his gorgeous jump shot, his facility near the basket, his technical proficiency and deride him as disinterested, insincere, or straight up idiotic. They observe that he's among the most gifted on-ball post defenders in memory, or they recognize his basketball intelligence, and they seethe that he's not nearly effective enough. For years, Wallace was supposed to mature into a leading man on par with players who share his physical prowess. Players like Timothy D and Kevin. Yet, he didn't, and the convention that reviles Wallace never allowed for a reconciliation of Roscoe's game and the ways we watch basketball. So Rasheed has enjoyed most-hated-on status.

Were sports dialogue less rigid, were attitudes more malleable, Rasheed may have had a chance. Rather than damning Wallace for what he isn't, we might have instead appreciated the intrinsic value of a diverse and refined skill set. Roscoe is fun to watch. Further, Roscoe hints at new possibilities, perhaps more than any other big man. Kevin Garnett, for instance, is many things, but a reliable post scorer and a three-point threat are not among them. Dirk Nowitzki, too, is many things, but an athletic and crafty defender has yet to appear on anyone's scouting report. Somehow, Rasheed doesn't get credit for what he is, nor, more rhapsodically, for what he's shown someone else might be. Seeing him score from the outside before drop-stepping and fading his way to more points on the next possession fairly invites the question of why he doesn't score more often, or more reliably. That said, more creative sports thinking could perhaps allow this inquiry to exist alongside greater admiration for Roscoe's game. Only, that's not how the world works. The emphasis, instead, is on how far he remains relative to where he is supposed to be.

Rasheed bears some blame, of course. His flare-ups have been counterproductive, and shameful moments like Game 6 against Cleveland three seasons ago strike at whatever sympathy his personality, history, and style encourage. Be moody. Reject that talent carries with it a mandate to aspire for greatness. But don't flout obligations, or punk out in such explosive, consuming fashion. Boorishness leads to anger. In that way, Roscoe has invited some scorn.



Miscreant or misunderstood, fairly criticized or unfairly villified, Sheed is most certainly not a superstar. He would likely be first to say so. He is, instead, a highly skilled complementary player, albeit one whose natural gifts are vast but not focused in the way that separates Kobe from Pietrus. As noted, this is the summer of Wallace's dreams.

On Wednesday, Roscoe officially signs up with the Celtics. The idea is that a healthy Kevin and the improved frontcourt depth which Rasheed creates will elevate the Celtics above the Cavs and the Magic, to say nothing of the Lakers. Rasheed will arrive to find a team with a leader (or three), a pecking order, a coach who juggles personalities, and a system. He is being added as Rasheed Wallace, Missing Link, not Rasheed Wallace, Primary Element. When he arrived in Detroit, despite assuming a role in the starting lineup and immediately becoming a prominent figure, he enjoyed similar luxuries. The Pistons had two guards who ran the offense and the team. The Pistons had a defensive anchor whose effort forbade anyone else from taking plays off. And--without rendering judgment about his disposition or playing the right way--the Pistons had LB, in all his lugubrious glory. (OK, so I judged his personality a little.)

In the D, Sheed wasn't asked to be "the leader" and wasn't asked to be "the guy" in a basketball sense. He was asked to assimilate--something he does well, as he's quite bright--and find ways to use his enormous ability in complementary fashion. Without compromising who he is, Wallace helped the Pistons win one title and come within a bad fourth quarter of repeating the next year. Perhaps it wasn't coincidental that the Pistons fell off as the coach left, the defensive anchor left, the point guard started to wear down, and more was quickly demanded from Rasheed. Judge Wallace as you will, but teams commonly cannot succeed when its players are asked to do things beyond their capabilities and comfort zones. That doesn't excuse untimely technicals, but it does, as usual, answer the more thoughtless dismissals that Wallace simply didn't fulfill his potential. For a time, he did. When those expectations grew outsized, he couldn't meet them and the team withered.



Awarding the 2010 championship to Boston on July 6th would be a little silly. Let's not do that. But let's acknowledge that Boston may be adding the most gifted role player of all time. And there is no intended shame in that distinction: as just noted, Roscoe knows the role he wants and has proven that he can acquit himself well when properly cast. In Boston, he will be afforded the opportunity to again demonstrate what he does, and how he best does it. A championship is not likely to undo all of the harm his reputation and legacy have incurred, but he might be able to affix some lasting repairs.

The question of temperament can't be avoided, so we should dwell upon that for a moment. Rasheed erupts sometimes. It will inevitably happen in Boston. (Can't wait to see how Boston treats such a flamboyant, on-court-angry black man if things don't go as planned.) But, is there anyone who credibly can argue that Sheed's temper will be a problem? When he has to walk back to a huddle which features a man who matched Kobe's playoff intensity while in street clothes, and probably while seated on his couch last month? Kevin Garnett will not suffer fools, distractions, or undermining tantrums. If anything, the rest of the league should be terrified. Combining Rasheed's indignation and KG's fury might resemble what would happen if the sun made a nuclear weapon and detonated it inside of a 100 supernovas. The entire Warriors backcourt could be blown off the court by the force of the energy. Also, if you can buy stock in something like "'motherfucker' being uttered in Boston," now might be a good time.



We are at a moment when the thrust of NBA activity centers around filling in at the margins and finding that last required piece. Sheed's been here, waiting for us to acknowledge this need. Everyone should let him do it.

Playing With House Pancakes

You want to know why I didn't flinch when Shaqobronix, or whatever it's called, came to pass? Why I was lukewarm on the Celtics, and to this day think my premonition was right? It's because this is what a real meeting of the minds should feel like.

Let's stop momentarily and honor Trevor Ariza, who will have a bright career elsewhere, starting with Houston, where he will either make okay to like Shane Battier, displace him the way we thought James White might do Bowen, or both. I know how important he was to that championship run. But that's in the past. They got the ring; these things are filled with singularities, contingencies, and rarely start-to-finish mandates. He was part of one crazy summer, and now instead, Ron Artest will be a Laker.

What makes Artest such a magical beast is that he's exactly the opposite of a championship. That place in history was a flux that ends in certainty. Artest is forever bold statements and stands, all adding up to bouquet of question marks. He can do nothing to surprise is, partly due to our numbness, but also because of how damn earnest he is about everything. It's a testament to Ron Ron that he can fall back on the force of his spoken and implicit convictions, no matter how ever-shifting and contradictory they may be. Artest will always have, for lack of a better word, his realness. Not his authenticity—he's not the only athlete from the projects who's seen shit—but the ability to make us watch not out of horror or honor, but from a place of love.

Like it or not, there is something admirable about Artest. Otherwise, he'd be a garden-variety sociopath. He's no longer a symbol of instability or risk, but of the enduring quality that could redeem such a blood-blender of a career: the fact that, at the time, he sure did mean it.



You might also say he's the opposite of Kobe Bryant, who by the least charitable reading, is the form of conviction without any of its substance. That would of course be totally wrong and unfair (though I expect to hear it echoed in the comments section), and yet it gets at something of Kobe's, well, dullness. Artest is complicated in the literal sense, of things fucking each other up and getting in each other's way. Kobe's complicated like a watch or schematic, and it's only us on the outside who don't see the internal logic. Ron Artest is inconvenienced by logic, Kobe redeemed by it. That's partly why you never hear "why doesn't Ron Artest win a championship?" It just doesn't seem right to bring him into the world of criteria. He has one of those careers that, when it's over, we'll all know whether it left a mark or not.

That's why it's so perfectly glib, and hilarious, that he's being attached to a team looking for a second championship. I caught some criticism for suggesting that, even if the Shaq-jection was successful, LeBron would only have one ring. I know that city and franchise can't like that, and noted as much, but James needs to be thinking dynasty. It's in his nature, the scope of what he does in the sport. Kobe, on the other hand, needed that single Shaq-less ring. Right, there's the three-peat, and the dynasty he got to help author. This last one, though, was all about the technicality. Ironic as all get-out, then, that this kind of thinking barely enters Artest's mind, or those who would judge him. Sometimes you wonder if he even thinks in terms of seasons, or even final scores. Each nanosecond is a war.

Ron Artest doesn't need a ring. Kobe doesn't anymore, either. There's zero pathos or desperation to this, not even with Lamar Odom presumably back on board (more on that in a second). I'm not saying the Lakers won't have desire, just that there won't be pressure beyond the pressure to play basketball. LA is great at disappearing; I think that having no weight on their shoulders will make for less, not more, of that. Artest, paradoxical as this may sound, will also only heighten this new outlook.

To close out this journey to the heavens and back again, the reason I am bouncing off the walls tonight is because of the Artest/Odom reunion. I know people have a problem with Knicks exceptionalism, and maybe even New York exceptionalism. But fuck it: I am sick of Mark Jackson having a monopoly on the New York Basketball brand. How long has it been since we heard any other announcer describe a player as NY, except in passing? Do not so quickly forget what our Attorney General said at his Senate confirmation hearings! Not bullshit street ball, these two; they're the stuff lore is made of. Artest is all grit and aggression, Odom beauty and otherworldliness. Sometimes I don't know who between them has more anguish in their game; they probably share a sack. However, as much as it will sicken some to hear this, seeing the two of them on one team is, in a sense, a triumph for whatever it is that city means to the sport.

It may be Los Angeles hanging a banner in a year, but if you want to talk style and stories, you couldn't make a team more New York if you wanted to. Just from these two.

Big Bucks on Astral Plane

At this point, we should probably just ignore Wade, Bron, and Bosh when they're asked about the future. James just messes with reporters, Wade's the good soldier, and Bosh is too polite to regularly let it smolder like he wants. For the record, on intuition and common sense alone, I figure James stays, Wade too but only after JO's replaced with quality, and Bosh might even be traded to Cleveland by next spring.

That said, I was struck by this Marc Spears Durant piece, which includes the following quotes:

"But after coming here and seeing the city, I love Oklahoma. The fans have been with me every night. What more can you ask for?"

"I like the nucleus that we have," he said. "I'm excited. I want to be here as long as possible. It's like family. I love being here. We're going to get better. We can get better.

"Hopefully, we will make the playoffs next season. That's what we're fighting for. We'll have a good chance."

Fine, maybe your standard clap-trap from a young, upbeat athlete not looking to make waves. But unless I'm just really stupid, Durant and Uncle Jeff will be looking for extensions next summer. So it's not like he's talking to thin air here. More importantly, though, is the emphasis on 1) OKC being a viable home for Durant's prime and 2) how impressed he is with the team around him.

The first point relates to both LeBron's supposed predicament, and possibly, the economy. I've written previously that James doesn't need New York or Miami except as lifestyle accessories; and hell, he can Gulfstream it out there whenever he feels like it, or buy a mansion for weekends. The Knicks, even the city itself in these troubled times, need brand LeBron, not vice-versa. And at the same time, he's elevating Cleveland, turning it from the butt of jokes and flaming rivers into the home of King James. Durant has more of an uphill battle in this respect, since despite his college hype he's been all but invisible this season. Still, this can't last much longer, and if next season the recognition comes, and the fans flock, by 2010 OKC might not be a joke any longer.

But more importantly is Durant's conviction, even good-natured shock, and just how brilliantly-engineered this team's future is. Sam Presti is smart. Sure, being surrounded by bikinis and beaches is nice, as would time spent in a national spotlight you don't have to earn. And yet we've seen that the Knicks can tumble into oblivion, even before the economy collapsed. Presti will not mess up when it comes to developing this team and its players. You could say similar things about Pritchard. If team markets are becoming more and more negligible, and the perilous state of all things financial makes the astute GM more precious than ever, how far are we from Presti being what keeps Durant in OKC?



P.S.: Because I am serious about those Amazon recommendations, the current ones: Eros Plus Massacre is the book on Japanese New Wave and such; The Street of Crocodiles an obvious influence on FreeDarko's prose style and worldview; On the Rainbow Road, the cheap way to some essential Southern soul; Sherman's March is my favorite documentary ever, except for maybe his Bright Leaves; The Wizard of Odds is FD itself; All Things Must Fight to Live will change your life.

Through Flesh and Of Soil

After having spent much of the morning trying to convince people that Shaq-to-Cavs would suck, I've given up and decided to seek refugee in the realm of abstractions. Who among us loves not to spend a good twenty minutes in a crowded coffee shop pondering the nature of time in today's NBA?

I'll keep this brief, but think about it: Only a few years ago, time barely existed in the Association. Market value for players was relative, and set each summer. GM's threw out huge deals, rarely considering how they'd hog-tie the team down the road. Max extensions created the illusion of franchise guys, though it was never quite clear who feted whom. Then came the mini-max, which urged teams to win now, and at the same time, opened the door for players to be free of a huge deal sooner rather than later (who knows, we might yet see that side of the coin). 2010 had everyone thinking about cap space two years down the road. And now, with money dearer than ever, suddenly dumping Brad Miller's contract—which expires in 2010—is worth it just for one year of savings.

No one trend brought about this shift. And who knows if it will continue once 2010 passes, or the economy recovers somewhat. Still, there's no mistaking that time is now urgently, anxiously present, part of the fabric of this league, in a way it hasn't been before. Perhaps it's overcompensation, but how blind, weird, and weightless things were before. I think it's a good thing.

Now talk about rumors.