Planned Parenthood

Sometimes, I meet stray pets on the street, and they want to know all about the origins of this site. After I ask for money and comb my hair with a motor, it all comes down to one thing: Skitatime. That's what I wanted to call it; that's who, from that vintage of Euros, I found most hilarious. And it's great when chanted to the tune of Joe McPhee's Nation Time, which reminds me that I always confuse him with John McPhee, which would make Skita the Bill Bradley of the alternate universe in which there are too many Green Lanterns. In short, I miss you, and basketball has made me fat.

But yo, everything just popped back into place. While innocently scanning HoopsHype, I discovered a site that many of you already probably know of: The Hoop. If only blogspot names were worth something like domains are. This place is great as can be, consisting—as far as I can tell—only of updates on the stormy overseas careers enjoyed by Skita (nee Nikoloz Tskitishvili) and, as seen in this actual post, the Greek Shaq, Sofoklis Schortsanitis. The plot has thickened for both of them several times over; they have left teams, come back, helped, hurt, loved, and at least in the case of Sof-Schort, caught some NBA interet. Rooftop like we bringing 2002 back!

If I had a dream, it would be for these players to exist in America, and be as chimeric, unknown, and yet impermeable as the greatest J.R. Riders. I wish, I really do, that we had gotten to see genuine Euro enigmas, or assholes (Darko doesn't count, he's no character) make a mess of the NBA like the blacks have. Instead they were all shuttled quickly out of the league, or thrown onto the bench, if they didn't reinforce the narrative of international salvation. Good thing I can see that Skita and Greek Shaq are alive and well and confusing the rest of the known basketball universe. I challenge all of us to be a little richer for it.

That blog is also very useful if you want to know what Taequan Dean has planned for next. Another wish: Could I get Extra! to deliver all this news? Same hosts, tone, lighting, and all that? Maybe there's a computer program that allows simulation of this? See, look what happens when old friends roost in a far-off land where somehow, they manage to make us feel oh-so at home—even as they drive themselves away and back into the sea.

Swim for it, guys. It's all we've got.

Fall Over Parade

I find it possibly amazing that Gerald Wallace is in the All-Star Game and Josh Smith should be. We did it. We made it. Our choices have been just. Note: I forgot Durant was a first-time All-Star yesterday because, in my mind, he's been on since Texas. Say that what you will about my love with this game.

Oh wait, Josh Smith didn't get in, it stings me right down to the bone, and you can read all about my feelings and history's folly (committed upon its own head, no less), in this precious column of mine.

I ended up cutting a paragraph that might have been all figurative economics too dry for those parts, so I lay it here. Or at least its essence. Think about this: It took time for hs-ers and Euros (in the wake of KG and Dirk) to become automatic presences in the high lottery. There was still a little bit of lingering skepticism, or at least hesitance. And these were the consensus best few teens the world had to offer. Thus, in theory, in the beginning there was a de facto cap placed on what hs/Euro picks made it in. It was only the cream of the crop, those generally agreed upon as the "next KG" or "next Dirk."

However, it didn't stop there. Once these players moved all the way to the top, the floodgates were opened for the "Maybe Next KG" and "Possibly Maybe Next Dirk." This is how you got Josh Howard and David West going at the end of the first round; high school/Euro picks weren't boom-or-bust by nature, they were made to look this way by a willingness to, in effect, scrape the barrel and push the very logic that had made teams pursue them in the first place. The best ones were gambles on great potential, which had built into it some sense of security. It was much more like the risk built into drafting a college player, just with a different form of assurance. The latter ones gambled without any safety net.

This description is remarkably inexact. But what would have happened if teams had never decided to cross that line and go from the relatively safe teens to those with less and less to recommend them as solid pros? When people talk about some sort of committee that would decide when a player could jump from high school, it seems like what they're really talking about is this alternate reality where all these other prospects never snuck in the cracked door on account of equivocation.

I've Been Around

This game is making me shiver.

I've written some good shit at AOL in my first week. Like, things that would do just fine on this site. Don't believe me? Take a look at these responsible links.

-Exporting the Positional Revolution to the masses, for OKC/ATL and then as the saving grace of All-Star Weekend.

-Why the NBA's "observance" of MLK Day bugs me.

-And, reunited with Ziller, the comic gem "Why DeJuan Blair Went So Late" and a graph-heavy, theory-laden extravaganza on the subject of individuality, morality, and free will.

If you liked any of that, here's the feed for my posts.

Yours,

Shoals

His Own Happy Abyss

You go away to celebrate the Lord's birth, the ringing in of 2010, and more wedding, and all sky busts open. That's pushing things too hard, maybe, but I've had a few topics festering in my brain over these last two weeks and now it's time for them to get out. Topics that deserve a friendly presentation around these parts. Also people have been nagging me over Twitter to have opinions and I like to respond to our readers. So here goes my four-act, back-logged holiday grievances, which may or may not work together as a dramatic construct, or web of intrigue, when taken as a whole.

John Wall just keeps on doing it, we watch, register amazement, and nod our heads like "I told you." John Wall: Where Amazing is one some level assumed with each passing second. There's little question that Wall represents the latest in the highly-selective lineage of CHANGE THE GAME prospects. This is not a follow-up to the "have we lived a lie?" post precipitated by Darko's retirement. That was the last, desicated days of 2009, when accounts are called in and bells rung with solemnity. Now we're wandering amidst the first triumphant peals of 2010, where for at least a little while longer we can step outside and surely announce that today's news will echo forever. What better time, then, to declare what's become something of a no-brainer: We're watching the kind of player who makes the "I am a Martian" trope intelligible; this is athletic performance we might very well be hallucinating, as well as the long-needed intersection of NBA scouting and taking lots of drugs.

But Wall, unlike LeBron, Durant, or going back, Garnett or Odom, isn't just a basketball quark waiting to be unleashed on the pros—and, for the time being, negotiating with ease the scraggly environs of the NCAA. Wall is the most preposterous kind of paradox: A player whose raw ability, and range of skills, give him the ability to shatter our very imagination, leave us transfixed and drooling at the exact point where all pedantry fails. And yet, after watching Wall seamlessly fit into a talent-packed UK team and acquire a jumper overnight, we've simultaneously seen him reveal himself as a building block that offers more than infinite possibility. Short of a seven-foot inside presence like Oden (the safe pick, the nice guy, etc.), a PG is the most straightforward investment you can make in your team's future plans. Especially in this rule-changed era, you might argue that it's an even more foundational pick than the dominant big man—besides the obvious Steve Nash/Aaron Brooks test, you also find the perimeter game increasingly transformed into the—ahem—center of the action. Inverted, upside-down ... now, the point guard is the ultimate functional component. Chris Paul, for all his all-time-y proficiency, is (like Duncan) still on some level a role player. In the same way that a Maybach gets you to and from work.



Wall, though, is both capable of almost anything and without doubt locked into a position, a role. Part of the frenzy surrounding LeBron and Durant had to do with the fact that, while they seemed capable of almost anything, we had no idea what they'd be tacked to do as pros. You could argue that Garnett's spent an entire career negotiating the less plush side of this dynamic. John Wall's potential is hydra-headed. He's the next great PG, leap-frogging Jennings, Evans, Rondo and Rose before he's even hit the league. On expectations alone, Wall already stares eye-to-eye with Chris Paul. Yet at the same time, Wall's feel for the game and innate ability allow him to do things that his position-mates just usually can't. In that, he has much in common with Rondo (not a new observation), or maybe rookie year Westbrook. Except Walls is at once a more immediately adept point guard than the scrappy Rondo or scattershot (then, at least) Westbrook, and is more of an athletic outliet than either. He has the ability to make plays that just shouldn't happen. The phrase "that's just plain wrong" is applied to bringing completely and totally raw dishonor, or defying the expectations we bring to the game as viewers. Wall actually insults our assumptions about what's supposed to happen next.

If this is odiously vague, well, it's because John Wall is balancing his point guard responsibilities with his ability to do pretty much anything he wants on the court. I got to know John Wall at Hoop Summit, where he ran wild in one of those games that reads like the greatest workout you ever saw. At UK, he's been the quintessential team player, adherent to the system, and so on. He's played the kind of basketball that every coach loves, albeit with occasional flashes of the great beyond. Yes, John Wall right now is amazing. But perhaps even more unfathomable is that tension that exists between a sense of predestination and the power he holds to write his own script. We've never seen anything like it, at least not in this era of uber-hyped kids coming out of HS. Dare I say that, because he'll hit the pros with both a first-rate sense of purpose and an untapped reservoir of basketball superpowers, his rookie season might be a voyage of discovery (for him and us) that rivals even Bron's first campaign.

Speaking of that great workout/great game dichotomoy, that actually sprung to mind yesterday at Seattle U./Harvard, which I attended with most members of the Super-Secret Seattle Basketball Dork Association. Normally I have huge problems leaving the house, but this offered the rare opportunity to see two potential first-rounders—Seattle's Charles Garcia and Harvard's Jeremy Lin—square off for the cost of a hot dog. Given that Lin is the greatest Asian-American basketball player since Wat Misaka, and has a shot at being the first since Misaka to make the NBA, and Garcia is ... some kind of Latino in a sport desperate for them ... I was secretly hoping for a race war. One quarter of the arena Harvard, one quarter SU, another random Asians, and the last, Latinos from around the area. And then one half of one row of draft geeks. But alas, that was not to happen, and I had to content myself with assessing Lin and an on-the-mend Garcia.

Sidebar 1: SU's return to D1, albeit without a conference, reminds me of post-colonial independence movements. They have spent years in the wilderness, off the radar, whatever, but now get to basically invent an identity and narrative for themselves as a legit program. At the same time, there's this mythical past they can always reference, with Elgin Baylor being the pre-colonial icon from which all else draws its strength.



Sidebar 2: Feel free to take whatever I say about Garcia worth a grain of salt. For reasons that will become apparent, I have no choice but to over-react. Everyone I was with concluded that they "needed more information," and Q McCall has been investigating Garcia for a minute now, so his dispatches are probably more reliable.

I'm getting tired here, so the bare bones of what I saw: Lin played the better game, Garcia the better workout. Harvard blew out SU, Lin made play after play (often inconspiciously); Garcia seemed off, distracted, and unable to deal with decent opposing bigs. But at the end of the day, Lin—while bigger, stronger, and faster than I'd expected—is, in the words of Ty Keenan, "one of those unathletic guards who does everything relly well," while Garcia is like something I dreamt up while asleep at my desk. He's 6'10", 230, with massive biceps and length for days. While he bears a faint resemblance to a young Larry Johnson in the face, his game is tailor-made for FD. My cohorts are fond of comparing him to Tom Chambers for reasons I don't quite get, but I'd describe him as post-injury Amare, plus Odom's versatility, plus Rashard Lewis's range (and lack of strength inside). Garcia needs coaching and discipline, or at least a situation where he gives a fuck, but he's hardly Anthony Randolph raw. Don't count on him chewing up the paint and knocking over opposing PFs on defense, but as Haubs pointed out, Garcia he could be positively deadly as a 3/4 on a fluid, up-tempo team. Which, more and more, is the way of the Association. Or, more specifically,: If Kevin is right that last year's Orlando Magic was the ideal line-up for today's NBA, imagine a guy who could alternate between the Turkoglu and Lewis roles.

Odds and ends:

-Don't ask me about Arenas. Any reporting that takes Vecesey as its foundation is like building a house on top of raw sewage. Bullets Forever is going a great job of compiling the credible info coming out, and as of now, I still don't feel like I have a clear picture. Sorry for not being bloggy enough; I wrote some good stuff about Beasley, but regret how prematurely I jumped on that story.

-I know that the whole "if Jeezy's paying LeBron" line from "Empire State of Mind" was cleared up a long time ago. It's not tampering, it's about Jay's imaginary drug-dealing career. But you have to wonder, did this ever come to the Commissioner's office? And if so, did he get an explanation from a PR flak: "Don't worry, it's just a high-profile stake-holder in an NBA franchise pretending to be a drug trafficker." Either we've come a long way since the Thug Warz that surrounded AI's rap career, or Stern isn't as on top of things as we'd like to think. Maybe because these things just don't matter anymore.

As Weird as Finger Panes

It's not online, but you'll have to take our word for it. In today's New York Times, the following words exist:

If Milicic does decide to leave for Europe, his lasting impressions on the N.B.A. may be as a cautionary tale about raw talent from overseas and the fact that he helped to inspire a young group of bloggers who started the site Free Darko.

The site has gone on to be one of the better N.B.A.-related blogs and last year produced the book "Free Darko Presents: The Macrophenomenal Basketball Almanac."

I lead with this not only to crease my own mask (it likes it!), but also because it pertains directly to a post I'd planned to write anyway. Darko is inseparable from "raw talent", albeit in practice, less often the overseas variety. We fixate on players in part for their singularity, but also in many cases because of their ability to tickle the imagination. It's alternately laughable and pitiable to watch NBA teams wait on, and ultimately admit their folly with, the likes of Darko or Kwame Brown. It's like the change of seasons, but with less Wordsworth and more scrap heap.

How then, is that so different from what we've been through with (deep breath) Andray Blatche, Amir Johnson, Rashad McCants, Julian Wright, Donte Greene, Javaris Crittenton, Al Thornton, Alexis Ajinca, Anthony Randolph, and Bill Walker, to name a few. Asterisk as many of these as you want, especially since some are recent or facing coaching oppression, but there's a sinking feeling associated with all of them. I know GMs in businesses are supposed to eat crow, but you've got to think their investment is more personal, emotional—as ours is entirely.



We've also been right quite a few times, and in other cases been stuck waiting to see if, to name the ultra-dude, J.R. Smith will ever become whole. Or Thaddeus Young achieve stardom, Francisco Garcia get those minutes, and so on. Those may just be a question of admitting that not all ideas become flesh, or that a league full of superstars wouldn't make any sense (1965, I see you!). With someone like Amir Johnson—once posited as a stroke of luck who would make up for Darko—it's harder to know what to feel. Did we stake a franchises's future on him? No, but our enthusiasm for Amir was every bit as real and concrete as, well, ours for players real and concrete. And now, we are forced into an expressive bind: Either admit that we falsely expended energy, spewing it back forth into the cosmos, or find value in the act of love even if this love is in the end proven false.

And wait, isn't this textbook bad faith? GMs are just stupid. We are willing to let our love of the game, or at least some scrap of it, hinge on potential without a road ahead, sometimes well after potential has ceased to quiver and gone still, mocking, obdurate. We celebrate the uneasiness and blind faith, while GMs gamely wait on their investment to pan out. They made a choice, and are forced to live with the consequences. We believe more the less dreams come true. That's not to say we resent players who realize their potential, but that excitement is different than belief. Do GMs believe? Do enchiladas dream?

I would be happy to learn that the universe is one big circle made up of syllogism. So when I die, they would say "his blog ended up lending its name to the All-Star point-forward FreeDarko Greenton, as well as both encouraging and extinguishing a certain elitist strain of fandom." But I don't want to stop now. DON'T MAKE ME STOP NOW.

You Take All You Can

Last night was totally discombobulating and snuck up on me, weird-wise, like various things that kill you. After it was all over, I tore out my teeth trying to decide if I liked the possible Amare-to-GSW trade, and realized in the process that my very being was at stake. So that's a longer post that will get written over the weekend.

In the meantime, here's 1,000 words on the Jennings/Rubio screenplay as of right now.

O Darkest Night

Below please find some amazing links, and the latest podcast.

-Earlier posts here, on draft fashion psychoanalysis and important details culled from past telecasts.

-My virulent, FD-friendly, reaction to the Shaq trade.

-Joey, after being crucified for his NY-centrism, has decided to change horses and look to the Wolves that could be.

-On the latest FD Presents: The Disciples of Clyde NBA Podcast, Dan, The Recluse, Eric (Ty Keenan), and myself attempt to talk about the draft, and instead spend almost 20 minutes trying to say something about the Bucks. Performance at its finest.



Songs:

Soundgarden - “Outshined”
What Made Milwaukee Famous - “Resistance St.”
Gang Starr - “Just to Get a Rep”
Deerhoof - “Whither the Invisible Birds?”
Man or Astroman? - “Principles Unknown”
Peanut Butter Wolf and Charizma - “Devotion ‘92″

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

Social Studies Was Fun

If you haven't already, read Shoals's analysis of the 2009 Draft portraits.

Over the last three days, I've spent each morning watching old drafts on NBA TV. Please enjoy these remembrances, observations, and lost moments from years past:

- Bob Neal, in 1991: "If Bill Walton wrote the book on big-men passing, Luc Longley probably read it." Unfortunately, he relied on Cliff's Notes for the rest of the coursework in Intro to Walton Studies.

- Hubie Brown, in the same year: "... Atlanta, with their small forwards and their need for a shooter." It's nice to know that, no matter how many things change in the league, certain teams remain as dependable as ever.

- Brian Williams/Bison Dele's dad was in The Platters. Not an original member, but still important.

- It's widely known that Greg Anthony is a conservative (though he endorsed Obama), but did you know that he was vice chairman of the Nevada Young Republicans while at UNLV? How does this affect what we know about the Runnin' Rebels reputation, both on-court and off?



- The 1992 Draft opened with extended Shaq highlights set to "Love Shack," a pairing that unfortunately never caught on. Also, there was apparently talk of Shaq not signing and sitting out a year, which, however far-fetched it seems now, says something about his personality. He never denied the possibility in his interview with Sager.

- If you want evidence that, for all their humor, these drafts are incredibly painful to watch, try listening to four people talk for three minutes about Reggie Lewis's health just a year before he died.

- The most important thing I learned this week: in the early 90s, they played "Thus Spake Zarathustra" after approximately half of the draft picks.



- JR Rider: "Other than that, I'm a perfect man in society."

- Jalen Rose carried a 3.4 GPA at Michigan. And remember, he was the only one involved in the Michigan scandal who wasn't listed as having received payments. We had a moral stalwart in our midst and didn't even know it.

- For a Warriors fan, watching them take Adonal Foyle over McGrady is very depressing. But not as depressing as learning that Todd Fuller's strength was "free-throw shooting." If you're curious, he shot 67% from the line in his career.

- Kobe filmed a short piece giving T-Mac advice on how to adjust to the NBA. If you removed the names, you would think it'd been filmed this season.

- The commentators couldn't even get excited about the 2000 Draft. Incidentally, Rick Majerus was way better on these broadcasts than I remember.

- In 2002, Nikoloz Tskitishvili was asked about his ballet training. His response: "It's more national folk dance. In Georgia, we dance with knives and bullets in our inside pockets."



- Kenny Smith thinks Brazilians speak Spanish.

- If you can, try to remember that Kiki Vandeweghe addressed Nuggets season ticket-holders in a ski lodge, telling them that Skita, Nene, Camby, and Mark Jackson were going to be the foundation of their team for years to come. Except he paused for applause after every name, as if he were an emcee introducing a performer by listing well-known accomplishments. All the while, men lurked in the background, half-hiding behind walls. Someone get this on YouTube!

- Chris Wilcox went right before Amar'e, but that's not the weird part: Wilcox was supposed to be what Amar'e became, and STAT was going to be "another Ben Wallace." There has never been a less accurate comparison of styles.

- A viewer email asked Barkley how the language barrier would affect Yao Ming. Why would you ever ask Barkley that question?

- After every pick in every draft, without fail, Hubie Brown explained the pick in terms of the team's summer personnel decisions. Sometimes this worked, but it also produced wondrous moments, like when he said the Sixers took Jiri Welsch because Corie Blount was a free agent.

You've Got The Look!

I always thought these things came out after the draft, but here these are. Okay, so maybe they always come out beforehand; perhaps I didn't notice until this year because so much is unsettled, so many players looking to define themselves amidst the din, that such images matter more than usual. Anyway, here's my cursory do/don't take on these, with apologies to Billups:



For someone so gangly on the court, Thabeet, unlike most seven-footers, sure knows how to look natural in the suit. He also has a face that looks like it could be put on a normal-sized person, a big plus when it comes to centers seeming human. The guy even shrugs and grins naturally, effortlessly, in a way that puts you at ease. This is wholesome point guard territory, not the usual awkward weirdo introvert.Counterbalance all that on-court scouting, now no one will whisper when he goes top three. For hell's sake, what other big man can drape a sweater over his shoulders without looking like a demonic scarecrow?



Everyone else is trying to tell us who they are, or really are, or want us to think they really are, with these shots. Ricky Ricky could give a fuck less about that. This is all about "how will I like in a fashion shoot" or "am I paparazzi worthy," maybe even "imagine this billboard over Times Square." Because see, Rubio isn't a person, he's an icon, a cute little sensation waiting to, however briefly, make an NBA city feel like it's the center of the basketball world. If that ugly-ass dude who is always on the Clippers could bag a model, imagine what kind of arm-candy this guy will come up with? You other kids get sneaker contracts; he's busy moving Armani.



Life is all about stark contrasts. Here's Rubio's arch-rival, humorless, smile-less, and without frivolity, dressed up just enough to show you he knows he, dressed down to show you he will roll up those sleeves and get to work. That expression says STRICTLY BUSINESS, and he's even hiding the ball in a non-flamboyant way. "My name is Brandon, and I control the rock." This shot also makes you believe he's just a weird-looking dude, not a teen still growing into his face. It's all gaze, no market, just the portrait of a player who wants respect. Which is overdoing it, of course, since this shit about him falling to #20 is just a Masonic conspiracy.



They say Jrue Holiday isn't ready. They say he only looks good on paper. The answer? Make him look a very sensitive golem emerging from a long lunch break in the void of un-being. I hope that's a satisfactory explanation.



Jordan Hill is just trying to figure it all out.



You know the ultimate mark of either a very young athlete or a total mama's boy? When they can't rock an outfit without looking like someone else picked it out for them. It also doesn't help that DeRozan, who is going to get drafted based on athleticism, looks like he's running for student body president of Dead Person University. No color? No expression but that wan grin? I don't even believe this guy can move. Or maybe I'm reading it all wrong, and that's the point: Seriousness and composure, to preempt all the "jump out the gym" talk. Even something resembling a wrap-around pass. Hidden secrets. Unknown pleasures. Whatever the last Joy Division album is called.



First of all, I own that same outfit. But not the socks. I like the socks, and think that's the next frontier of NBA fashion. That said, Curry looks perfectly comfortable and convincing until you get to the point of contact between his hand and the ball. NOT A GOOD SIGN. If he's going to be anything more than a friendly catch-and-shoot fella, he could at least look like he sometimes takes the ball out at night and does tricks in front of the mirror. . . in that outfit. That's what the people want.



Does Hansbrough mean to be wearing exactly what Adam Morrison rocked in 2006?

Collapse in Reverse

Read the official FD Mock!

You don't need to warn me about the perils of drafting based on potential—what it seems like a player might be able to do one day. I have both been seduced by, and gotten endless mileage out of, this rotting cliche of NBA scouting. There's a distinction to be made, which I've done several times and don't feel like doing again, between "might be able to do" and "could be the kind of player who might be able to do." But while the latter is more immediately compelling, it's not like the former is more empirically sound, just not so utterly Romantic or suspended in a dream-like state not unlike religious conversion.

So it is with great trepidation that I seek to advance a serious scouting theory based on a hypothetical. However, since seeing that Brandon Jennings Euromix, I've been thinking about a line I've heard, and read, in several places: roughly, "there's just no one else in the draft who can do the things he can." The legend of Ricky Rubio aside, Jennings's slippery, high-speed trickery with the ball is an asset that just can't be ignored. Jennings is accused of showboating, streetball, next Marbury, and all the usual. But as a passer and facilitator, Jenning's game isn't bullshit, it's the kind of Nash/Paul skill that could pull together an entire offense in this PG-friendly (or -centric, you choose) era. And Jennings doesn't merely have great vision. When it comes to this one, rarefied aspect of the game, he can hang with anyone in the league.



If you don't believe me, ask Stephen Curry, speaking to Chris over at The Baseline:

CL: Tell me what you thought of Jennings. Everywhere he's going, he seems to be leaving a trail of fire, one way or another, like what he said about Rubio for example. Tell me what he was like as a player and what he was like as a person.

SC: As a player, he's very quick. You don't know exactly what he's going to do. He's got an unconventional style about him where you think he's going one way and he'll throw back between the legs and go another way. He's tough to guard because he keeps his dribble active and looks for open spots on the floor. He definitely is a solid point guard. I think his season in Italy really helped him develop going against physical guys.

CL: Did Jennings remind you of that you've seen?

SC: No, he plays different than anyone I've seen before.

CL: What makes him unique?

SC: His creativity with the ball. He's always moving. Even without the ball, he's just always active on the floor. When we were doing 3-on-3 drills he'd do the Steve Nash dribble from one side of the court, underneath the basket, to the other and do a turn around. He's a great passer, so you've got to stay in front of him

I know I shouldn't take the word of a player I'm not so high on. And as Henry noted, Jennings still has major holes. However, this is exactly the point I'm after here. Jennings isn't a gaseous cloud of could-be, nor a good young player whose past offers a template for future success. He's both more and less than each of these. In some ways, he's the best PG in the draft; in others, one of the shakiest, a project needing not only technical tutelage, but some basic help getting in tune with the pro game. The level of competition in Europe may be higher in the NCAA, and it helped Jennings grow up; at the same time, is there any question this kid's recent history leaves him with a lot to work through on the court?

But again, that brilliance with the ball, the total unpredictability and idiosyncracy Curry refers to. Yes, it could lead him to self-destruct. As of now, though, it's an enormous asset, at least one facet of what it takes to be a first-tier PG. I want to compare it to drafting Thabeet on the basis of his shot-blocking, and yet this isn't about a specialist. It's about a player with a gift, one that, if a team's ready to look past or committ to sanding down the rough edges, could be the basis of not just an All-Star, but a dynamic team. This is exactly why point guards can be the new franchise these days.



I like Evans, and he's ready right now. But he's not precocious, ahead of and behind himself, like Jennings. Rubio, who knows. At this point, it's impossible to separate his actual ability from the rhetoric (no, not "hype"), a lot of which is glib and contradictory. I don't blame him for not working out, but that's keeping us from getting the same measure of how he stacks up against other prospects. Please, discuss the Olympics below. However, regardles of what Rubio is or isn't, people seem either sold or not sold on him. Everyone agrees on Jennings. The question is whether you take a player on the assumption that from one great thing, other good things will inevitably follow.

FreeDrafto #24883131: The Mock

We may never be capable of answering with "FreeDarko" means, but explaining the basis of the FD Mock Draft is a lot simpler. Like the real thing, it involves a sometimes delicate balance between best available and best fit—or in this case, most FD player and most FD state of affairs. Your pickers, in order: The Brown Recluse, Esq., Joey Litman, Tom Ziller, yours truly, and Ty Keenan. Honeysuckle and enjoy!

1. Los Angeles Clippers - Hasheem Thabeet, Connecticut
True, the last time the Clip Show drafted a raw giant of African descent with the number one overall pick, it didn't work out too well, but this time is different. The mind boggles at the potential chaos that could be wrought by a frontline of Thabeet, Marcus Camby, and Chris Kaman. Has it ever happened that a team had every shot attempt blocked for an entire game? Well, we're about to find out. Also, I overheard Dunleavy saying that Zach Randolph's face up game was so nice, he was thinking of playing him exclusively at the 3. Hey, don't shoot the messenger! (Brown Recluse, Esq.)

2. Memphis Grizzlies - Blake Griffin, Oklahoma
Given all the lectures we've received about him, it was tempting to pass on Griffin here because that would just be funny in an absurd way. Like awarding Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo the Best Picture award for which it deserved consideration. (Seriously.) But fine, Griffin "makes sense." He's a great fit in Memphis given the city's tortured racial-identity issues stemming from Craig Brewer's career. And amidst a roster haunted by the Ghosts of Final Fours Past, he might already be the second-most-accomplished pro, after Rudy Gay. What up, Mihm? (Joey Litman)

3. Oklahoma City Thunder - Rodrigue Beaubois, France
The Russell Westbrook of Europe meets the Russell Westbrook of ... um, America. We (outside of stoicism fetishists like Joey) think of the San Antonio canon as one of boring, solid, workmanlike. But ignore Duncan for a minute. The team that brought us James White! This is what Presti took from the Spurs playbook, beyond the Big Three + flexibility trope: get players who can jump over canyons. I look forward to the first Green-to-Westbrook-to-Beaubois-to-Durant fastbreak in which feet never touch the ground. (Tom Ziller)

4. Sacramento Kings - Brandon Jennings, Compton
We may never know for sure if Jennings really is better than Rubio, if the latter is indeed "all hype," or if both are true. Sadly, Jennings was the only one to survive the Serbian Barf Wars, a skirmish which briefly rocked the airspace over Idaho and Nebraska, and into which both young point guards were enlisted against their will for the entirety of its two-day duration. Rubio died in the arms of his mother, slain, some said, by Jennings himself.

The Maloofs may want to win, but they also own Vegas and have a pet reality show. Suckers for the nexus of talent and publicity, they'll go with Jennings, whose return to the scene of his great rhetorical crime will be seen as both a tribute to Rubio (even though that makes no sense; possibly because Ricky would've been drafted here?) and in its wacky remorselessness, the beginning of his Speedy Gonzalez/Wild Bill persona. Also, Donte Greene stole a tank during the draft and forced this pick, and with the Kings hiring Paul Westphal, who once lead the league in scoring and is often mistaken for Paul Westhead, so this team will run. (Bethlehem Shoals)



5. Washington Wizards - Tyreke Evans, Memphis
Yeah, Obama might convince them to take a Euro for the sake of foreign relations, but cute gimmicks aren't necessary as long as you're not threatening Zapatero, and every foreigner's scared of playing in DC anyway after hearing rumors that Rubio died when the sculptures in the Smithsonian came to life. With Arenas a perpetual question mark, the Wizards need a more consistent source of combo-guard scoring, especially with Jamison likely to be traded this summer. As an added bonus, Tyreke can host long-arm contests with JaVale McGee. (Ty Keenan)

6. Minnesota Timberwolves - James Harden, Arizona State
Harden's going to need that t-shirt (and some sweaters) because it gets cold in Minnesnowta. The T-Wolves are actually kinda set in the frontcourt with Jefferson and Love, but they badly need some perimeter scoring. Harden scores in ways that Corey Brewer can't even imagine, and ironically, since he makes up for his perceived athletic deficiencies through craft and wiles, he's something like the guard version of McHale. Keep ya head up, Kev! (BRE)

(We have a trade. Shoals and Joey have agreed to swap picks, while Shoals was stuck in the airport and needed something to do.)

7. Golden State Warriors - Terrence Williams, Louisville
The next Stephen Jackson but better. Stephen Jackson if he'd known all along that he was going to turn into today's Stephen Jackson, instead of being forced into it when the NBA ate his family and he fled to the hills to fight for what he believed in. Joey, I think I'm going to pass on your creepy Omar/Brandon allusion. (Note from Joey: Before anyone in the comments has to say it--pause. Get over it.) (BS)

8. New York Knicks - Jordan Hill, Arizona
While Zombie Ricky Rubio remained under heavy consideration until the last moments of New York's time on the clock, New York's selection of Hill should prove that Amare was more important than Nash. At least in D'Antoni's eyes. (Note: Hill is not Amare, but Donnie Walsh is partially blind.) (TZ)

9. Toronto Raptors - Ricky Rubio, Muerte
They came from all over, and in the North Carolina dark, they frantically pressed their weight against the old tree's trunk, searching for the door. Finally, Jason Williams found it, and he led Nash and the Colangelos down a hidden staircase. Mike, a surgeon who happens to coach basketball, was waiting for them at the bottom, and he had the body. Invoking the names of Pete and Press, the men held hands and prayed before activating the ReviviChirp, a life-conferring machine powered by a substance so mystical and potent that its creator, Christopher, had spent two years in the wilderness while recovering from the experiments he had administered on himself.

Time drew out. Jerry and Bryan looked on anxiously, knowing that on the table lay their best hope for finally realizing the dream deferred in Phoenix. Bryan was especially nervous because each passing moment brought Chris Bosh closer to getting the fuck out of Toronto, and Bryan needed a plan to win games and sell tickets. Steve and Jason were somber, overcome by desire for the league to be dominated by a white guy who could play the black game, but also jealous that history would not speak first of them. All lost hope as the machine cut out. It was over.

And just when they were resigned to rolling with Jeff Teague, an ironic twist: a hero of Brandon Jennings's own home, Compton, rushed down the stairs. Shrouded in a cloak, the man lay his hands upon Ricky's chest, held them there for a moment, and then lifted them in the air, bringing Rubio's resuscitated body with them. The man placed Ricky in Bryan's arms and bounded up the stairs as swiftly as he'd entered. Bryan screamed up, "What just happened?" And then, Dr. Dre threw back his hood and reminded the men, "Real niggaz don't die." (JL)

10. Milwaukee Bucks - Stephen Curry, Davidson
It always bothers me when GMs lose all common sense during the draft and take a guy with potential over someone who produced in college. You're telling me Curry's a worse pick than a guy like Jrue Holiday? I watched UCLA this year because I live in LA, and he wasn't even the third-best player on his own team! That's almost as illogical as when Jennifer Aniston decides not to move out of Vince Vaughn's apartment in The Breakup. None of this would've ever happened if the Bucks had hired me as their GM. I will now commit ritual seppuku. I would say more, but that's a whole different column. (Anon.)



11. New Jersey Nets - James Johnson, Wake Forest
The Nets are totally weird. Any team with Vince Carter is automatically impossible to predict, but look at the rest of the roster. Their two young "studs" are Devin Harris and Brook Lopez, without question the goofiest tandem in the League. Keyon Dooling is their fourth leading scorer (seriously, look it up), and the rest of the squad is made up the likes of Yi Jianlian and Chris Douglas-Roberts. Talk about ciphers. All of this makes New Jersey the only possible destination for James Johnson, whose anonymous name belies his utterly strange background as the middle son of a clan of Idaho-based mixed martial artists. Given his unique skill set, it's surprising that Johnson gets lost on the basketball court as often as he shines on it, which only adds more haze to his already inscrutable persona. (BRE)

12. Charlotte Bobcats - Sam Young, Pittsburgh
Not sure if they know it, but the Bobcats are at war with each other. There's the FD faction (Gerald, D.J., Boris), the Play the Right Way faction (Ray, Sean, Emeka, Raja), the kids who get to sit with the counselors at the head table since they all went to UNC, the guys with funny names (Alexis, Nazr, Vlad, DeSagana). Every time you start to head in one direction, you lose the path. The hybrid lineup of Raymond, Raja, Gerald, Boris, and Emeka was pretty good last year. Michael isn't paying attention, and lugubrious Larry is going to hate whomever shows up soon enough, so why not score one for the FD team and subtly swing the Bobcats our way? Enter Mr. Young, something of an FD Trojan horse. He came up under a defense-and-fundamentals coach, so LB will like that. But really, dude wants to run, to leap, to soar; to bomb from three, finish on the break, and block shots swooping in from the wing. There is an audacity of hope in his game that should play well in newly blue Carolina. (JL)

13. Indiana Pacers - DeJuan Blair, Pittsburgh
Following the selection of Roy Hibbert, the acquisition of Jarrett Jack, and the continued employment of Jeff Foster and Troy Murphy, the Pacers continue to attempt to build the slowest fast team of all time. Murphy makes a surprise Summer League appearance as a part of his personal brand reboot (the Irish Catholic Artest). A game against Toronto's squad results in only two Raptor rebounds in the fully 40 minutes. (One rebound by Zombie Ricky, the other by Bargnani's bitchy cousin Bella, a team inclusion which really stretches the bounds of NBA nepotism decency.) (TZ)

14. Phoenix Suns - Demar DeRozan, U$C
Because if he and Amare collide when both go up to catch a Nash lob (that will happen every single time, trust), there's a chance Stoudemire's knee could be destroyed, and his entire contract then traded elsewhere as a tax write-off. Also DeRozan can only survive in warm temperatures; if he doesn't get sun, his blood stops moving. You can actually specify that when you register for the draft, just no one ever checked that box before now. So there's kind of a moral imperative at play here. (BS)

15. Detroit Pistons - Omri Casspi, Israel
With General Motors in trouble, why not take the player whose name sounds most like a car? Not only that, but Casspi is earning a reputation in workouts as a hard-nosed player who's not afraid to get his hands dirty, qualities synonymous with the city he'll call home. The Ghost of Henry Ford probably won't relish having his industry represented by a Jew, but it's tough to be picky when you need all the help you can get. (TK)

16. Chicago Bulls - Jrue Holiday, UCLA
For years, people have been saying that the Bulls need a long defender at shooting guard, but it's time to give that shit up. It's not happening. They like having short combo guards, which is why they're going to re-sign Gordon, they're not trading Hinrich, and they're drafting Holiday. Chicago's management has to appreciate that he's a tough defender, whose wingspan and quickness should help make up for what he lacks in height. Also, I'm pretty sure that the kid doesn't even own a razor. Bulls fans can still hold out hope that he's got some more growing to do. (BRE)



17. Philadelphia 76ers - Robert Dozier, Memphis
Two years ago, the Sixers ran their way into playoff contention and poked a few new holes in a Pistons foundation already set to fall apart. The logical next step? Signing a plodding injury problem, albeit one quite talented. When he got hurt this year, the team again ran itself into playoff contention and had us finding a new coach for the Magic. Sorry about that, Stan. Sixer logic now dictates taking the fattest, slowest guy available. Has anyone seen Escalade Troy Jackson? If he can't be found and Blair isn't available, perhaps the team will stop acting like pussies and allow the new AI and Thaddeus to play as they'd prefer. In fact, I dare it to do just that. And to help, I'll give Philly Robert Dozier. Dozier can fill in for Brand once he ruptures his stomach or tears his entire lower body, and Robert's already spent the longest college career ever invented running his ass off. Plus, he's the kind of defender who will do something spectacular when not in foul trouble and buy himself a rep that may not be wholly deserved. Thus, Eddie Jordan will like his game. (JL)

18. Minnesota Timberwolves - Jonas Jerebko, Sweden
New McHale David Kahn famously wants to leave a big mark on this draft. What better way than to replace the contemptible Corey Brewer with a Swedish forward who falls between the Matts Harping and Barnes? How can this go wrong? Well, except that (after the McHale firing) this is Crime No. 2 of the Kahn empire, which means than the new GM is on schedule to be fired sometime around 2026. Polish that resumé, Hoiberg. (TZ)

19. Atlanta Hawks-- Jonny Flynn, Syracuse
Allow me to get serious for a second here. The Hawks are hurting inside. What's this, you say, they just finished a season that put them on the cusp of legitimacy? Their entire future hangs on whether or not they can satiate the slobbering overlord Mike Bibby happy. Their coach is like one of those chairs that makes you sit up straight by tearing at your tendon. The dream isn't at risk of dying—we may have to admit that it never really got off the ground. That's where Jonny Flynn comes in. So he won't rain threes like Bibby. He has the heart of Horford, the physical prowess of Smith, and some of Joe Johnson's multi-faceted competitiveness. Flynn isn't a vet, but the clinging to Bibby would be born out of a fear called A.C. Law IV; here, they get a PG whose confidence is neither flimsy nor shriveled, cynical. Jonny Flynn will save the Hawks before they even know what's missing. (BS)

20. Utah Jazz - Earl Clark, Louisville
With either Boozer or Millsap not coming back, it's time to restock with a tall, thin, do-it-all forward. In theory, Clark's skills are redundant as long as Kirilenko's around, but they could also animate AK and bring him back to the 5x5 glory days. Plus, if we're really lucky, Sloan will play them together and allow them to pick up the mantle that reformer Governor Jon Huntsman left when he moved to China. (TK)

21. New Orleans Hornets - B.J. Mullens, Ohio State
We must truly be in the Post-Shaq Era if an athletic, homegrown 7-footer can slip out of the lottery. Sure, he doesn't really know how to play basketball, but if you're a big man and you play with Chris Paul, all you really need to know how to do is catch the ball and dunk it. He seems to have that part down pretty well. If Chandler can't return to form, then Mullens will make an adequate, if significantly less handsome, replacement. (BRE)

22. Dallas Mavericks - Gerald Henderson, Duke
Ryan Hollins may be headed toward a long career as the player you love to hate. He's good enough to be on the floor, yet not good enough to get calls or command respect among those who don't ride (with) the Horsees. He's lanky and slight; his look is off. And like the lamentable majority, he has yet to think of a time when he actually committed a foul. He'll now have a partner with whom he can share in public scorn. Let's be honest: no one likes a Dookie, especially not one who's had the gall to actually act a little hard. Henderson is going to dunk on someone in a way which we don't like, and then make a face that only invites more yelling at the television. But he'll also be a good fit on a shook Mavs team that unexpectedly reverted toward its old self but still needs some help getting there. (JL)

23. Sacramento Kings (from Houston) - Tyler Hansbrough, North Carolina
Brandon Jennings throwing lobs to Psycho T, who can't finish but is pretty good at collecting the pass, landing safely, and getting fouled on the re-attempt? Yes please. We will call this the Hansbrough-oop. Jason Thompson will always perfect it, and it will be glorious. (TZ)



24. Portland Trail Blazers - Eric Maynor, VCU
Signing Andre Miller won't solve the Blazers point guard problems, it'll underscore what a parallel universe they've been living in. As in, a team doesn't just need one serviceable point guard, they need—get ready—TWO!!!!! When Miller comes to town, Steve Blake won't be "exposed" in game-type way, but revealed to be a round hole in a square peg, or an alien plant posing as your neighbor. Hence, the pick of VCU's Maynor. You might think they'd go for Ty Lawson, who pretty much won the tournament for UNC, and has all the tools needed to be a starter if necessary. But a couple drawbacks: 1) He was taken by the Nuggets in a bunch of mock drafts last year, which makes him an asshole. 2) He drank that beer once. 3) It won't make Pritchard look nearly as clever as a mid-major "sleeper" will (are there even sleepers anymore?) 4) People keep mentioning Raymond Felton when Lawson comes up. So Portland, welcome to the modern age. Now get the blasted ball out of Brandon's hands. (BS)

25. Oklahoma City Thunder (from San Antonio) - Jeff Teague, Wake Forest
Like most players on OKC, Teague has no clear position. It's tempting to say they need someone who can bring clarity to the lineup, but that could introduce an entirely new set of problems, like a glaucoma patient who smokes medicinal pot only to end up suffering from really bad paranoia. Better to stick with someone who isn't even sure if he's playing point or shooting guard from possession to possession and confuse the opponent even more. This isn't versatility--it's the new Escher. (TK)

26. Chicago Bulls (from Denver through Oklahoma City) - DeMarre Carroll, Missouri
I would pay good money to see a frontcourt of Noah, Tyrus Thomas, and Carroll playing at the same time--just unbridled, occasionally imprudent hustle. He's the Renaldo Balkman of this year's draft, and I mean that as a compliment. It's extremely unlikely any team is going to get a star this late in the first round, especially in this draft, so why not take a player who's going to play defense, rebound, and sometimes awkwardly drive to the basket? There are reports that Carroll will need a liver transplant, but that it shouldn't affect his game. And you know what that means? A whole new liver to destroy with alcohol! Chicagoans are going to love this guy. (BRE)

27. Memphis Grizzlies (from Orlando) - Austin Daye, Gonzaga
Combining hope for this tidbit to come true (third-to-last paragraph) and our infallible prognostications, here is your 2010 Memphis Ten-a-Key starting lineup: Ovinton J'Anthony, Rudy Gay, Austin Daye, Blake Griffin, Kevin Love. That's a team whose arms would literally be long enough to box with god. How would you guard them? And they should all wear t-shirts. (JL)

28. Minnesota Timberwolves (from Boston) - Toney Douglas, Florida State
Drafting ACC players is, oddly, the easiest way to increase the average age of your team. I think T.D. is actually Sebastian Telfair's uncle, but on the non-Marbury side of the fam. Arm wrestling is so 2008, but I like to think a Douglas-Jefferson showdown sounds historic enough to renew the sport. (TZ)

29. Los Angeles Lakers - Tywon Lawson, North Carolina
He would perhaps offer Kobe's order and rationality as a true PG accustomed to juggling egos and needs, but his Carolina upbringing and natural game would encourage the athletic best of Odom and Ariza. A temperamental heir to Fisher, but a stylistic descendant of Showtime. (Pick: BS/Text: JL)

30. Cleveland Cavaliers - Chase Budinger, Arizona
Look, LeBron, Danny Ferry got you a tall, athletic swingman who can score when needed. It's just what you've been asking for! Except not, because for some reason Budinger's never been able to translate his considerable skills into a sustained period of excellence. That doesn't necessarily make him a bust waiting to happen, because lord knows he won't be expected to be a first option in the NBA, but it does make him the kind of guy who's more likely to fill in when he can. Unfortunately, the Cavs already have a lot of that on their roster, and we saw where it got them this year. You wouldn't expect much else at the end of the first round, but that doesn't make it any less unfortunate. (TK)

Get a New Mazda

Belated Blogs with Balls thoughts in a second. But first:



This reminds of a Painted Area post that boldly and matter-of-factly declared Jennings the third-best prospect in the draft. This was based on actual observation, whereas everyone else was going on murky deductions about what Euro stats did or didn't mean, or a handful or anecdotal reports that trickled in from interested parties.

After watching this Rome-only Jennings mix, I see why he came to this conclusion. So maybe his stats had holes; aren't they supposed to? And I know the whole growth narrative matters, but it's too hazy to hang a multi-million dollar investment on. These clips make it pretty darn clear that Jennings wasn't stumbling through a foreign system. He's making plays here that evince exactly the same flamboyant, near-absurd, virtuosity—that I'm convinced is totally self-aware—but not in any way wrecking the integrity of his role. This is what Jennings more than Young Marbury 2. He's both more and less that cosmic force, Iverson's Zoroasterian battle within reconciled as a multi-national.

And about BwB . . . I can't really add much to the zillion recaps that have already been written. It was great to meet a bunch of people I've emailed with, and—gasp—in some cases, make the acquaintance of some folks with whom I'd had zero blog interaction. The HHR crew deserve oodles of credit to pulling together and pulling off an event that kept changing and evolving. GQ's party was fun, and I hate parties. I'm not even mad at y'all for spreading petty rumors about my love for Ricky Rubio!



I know my panel was crazy and all, and did produce this lasting tribute to how loathsome and noisy I am, but I think one key thing got lost in there, and in the conference as a whole. Yes, in part I wanted to question the whole blog/MSM blood-feud, and wonder why exactly newspaper men and bloggers had convinced themselves it was 1917 Russia all over again. Bloggers are not inherently noble, or part of some movement that will carry us all to heaven; established writers should not think the sky is falling, or that all's relative and everyone has voice, because people just aren't that stupid; the Ibanez saga says to me that treading lightly when it comes to steroids is impossible, so if you want to be taken seriously and not just be seen as a cranky fan, you should be ready to dig in your heels and pound the pavement!!! And yes, I probably cursed out all bloggers and journalists who can't write well, or report well when they have to. Merit is not dead, it just got less exclusive.

But what I really want to get out there was how little print media other than newspapers were discussed. Newspapers are in trouble, and have been for some time, which kind of makes them an easy target, like the steroids of media upheaval. However, yours truly has always been most interested in magazines and books. Jeff Pearlman at one point said that books were now his medium of choice. Other than that, nothing. I know that all publishing is a mess right now, but I felt a little out of place when the main issues were 1) learning how to ball out like Jason McIntyre 2) getting hired to kill off beat writers.

I don't see why at least magazines can't figure prominently into this discussion. After all, if you want to make a living writing, they're still a decent source of (intermittent, supplementary) income. And it's kind of insulting to bloggers to assume that, while they can move in on one quadrant of print media, they're somehow barred from making the same kind of transition that so many "real journalistz" have made. That's the blog ghetto all over again.

And anyone who doesn't think it should be a global priority for Spencer Hall to get a book out there soon is not a part of the same "movement" as me.

Crossing the Rubiocon

Jelani the Elder is a young man living and writing in NYC. When he’s not writing, he’s busy plugging Epilogue Magazine. He's hoping FD will have him back soon, as he's already started on his magnum opus, "How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Clippers: The Blake Griffin story."

In the notebooks of scouts abroad and at home, Ricky Rubio has been, all at once, the future and a throwback. He’s been Drazen Petrovic, Pete Maravich, Magic Johnson, and Steve Nash. But, as aesthetically pleasant as all these player comps might be, the National Basketball Association is a business; if the league’s sole purpose was to promote civic pride and goodwill, they probably wouldn’t have sales reps calling you every day for the last two months trying to get you courtside for a team built around Nate Robinson. Ricky’s venerable mound of hype surely commands hundreds of minds devising how to best monetize it. Such is capitalism.

Ricky represents the dream for those in the merchandise business who stand to make a tidy killing off of the Legend of Ricky. He’s played high-level competition in Europe since his early teens, hundreds upon hundreds of games a year, so either he’s A) totally bereft of personality due to the lack of a normal or stable adolescence developing amongst his peers or B) one of the weirdest, most eccentric dudes to lace ‘em up in a long time. If it’s A, that’s terrific, blank slate, the creation of an image from day one without any real transgressions. If it’s B) hell, maybe even better. But let’s say it’s A. Let’s run through the Rubio-branding options.

The Foreigner:The most obvious direction. He’d join Rudy Fernandez, Jose Calderon, and the Gasol brothers as the league’s resident Spaniards, which is just lovely because they’ll all could potentially play for different teams, where any head-to-head matchup would generate at least mild buzz, or, at the very least, an all-the-tapas-you-can-eat watch party. Ricky even stands to surpass them all (my guess is all five will make an All-Star team at some point) as he strides toward defensive competency. But I’d like to think Nike—it’ll be Nike—plays this up. Rubio’s EuroLeague career and its application to the NBA is still swathed in mystery, and certainly a quality that the brightest merchandising minds can utilize and build around.



New York Rubio: Some of the buzz lately suggests that Rubio-to-NYC is something that just has to happen. The Knicks don’t have a true point guard, they play D’Antoni run and gun and Rubio is the neo-Nash, not to mention that the league could easily stand to gain from putting a future star (product placement) in the Big Apple. In a city with legions of fans to seduce, relocated persons such as yours truly who have never had an NBA team to call their own, and NYC just happens the world’s finest hype auger. Also, the city’s fashion arm would certainly slide Ricky into $15,000 suits, paste him on SoHo billboards with his eyes obscured by Wayfarers, and stock an initial run of 50,000 Rubio Knicks jerseys at Midtown’s NBA Store. Oh, and a prediction—if the Knicks got Rubio, they would immediately introduce a new “alternative” jersey (Black? Green? Spanish flag color scheme? It doesn’t matter) just so they could make even more money. You know they would.

Recession Rubio: If the emptiness of Nike’s NYC retail outlets are any indicator of corporate prosperity, then maybe Nike ain’t doin’ so hot. Why spend the cash on an unproven Rubio when all it will take is a couple tweaks to the Rafael Nadal brand image? Rafa has a lot of desirable characteristics as a pitchman—he’s young, he’s good, he’s strikingly polite, and he’s European (Spanish…same as Rubio! Oh my!). Plus, Nadal’s possibly out for Wimbledon and the rest of the summer, so they could easily utilize his temporarily dormant campaign for the media swirl around July’s NBA draft. And if we’re running with the idea that Ricky Rey (patent pending) has no personality, you could do a lot worse than being sold as basketball’s Nadal. I don’t think that lugging your uncle around as coach would fly in the League, but I guess that just depends on how much money you’re generating.

Rascal Rubio:Bad boy angle. Gotta have it: The trickster, the devil—it’s timeless. Why mess with archetype? After last summer’s incredibly offensive Spanish Olympic Team picture mocked the host nation in a not-so-subtle way, this idea has wheels. Pair Ricky with Andrew Dice Clay, his Mars Blackmon, and you’re set for a divisive yet highly publicized career. Also, Rubio hails from the Catalan region of Spain, and making loads of deliberate anti-Basque statements in post-game press conferences could create tension internationally. It’s offensive and galvanic in dozens of time zones and languages, something that you can’t quite capture with your average Charles Barkley rant.



Relocation Rubio: If Ricky Rey ends up in Memphis or Sacramento, two embattled teams perpetually pondering relocation options, brand imagining would transcend Rubio and maybe create a market. For those mathematically inclined in the audience, surely “present value” calculation of future Ricky Rubio-related profit has to be a pretty substantial figure, a number that would surely affect a franchise’s current valuation. Kansas City, amongst others, could swipe a team due to its tenantless but new Sprint Center, and the return of the Kansas City Kings would certainly gel with my “Ricky Rey” campaign, “Rey” of course being the Spanish translation for “king.” Surely you see what I’m on to here. This is selfish for many reasons, but you know, you gotta look out for #1.

And if it’s option B, B again representing a maladjusted eccentric that has no feel for the American press or the subtleties of a new language, just let the product sell itself, Mr. Knight.

FreeDrafto #6.545245: We'll Always Have Promises

FD kicks off its draft coverage by looking forward in order to look forward to looking back. Like, awards we hope we'll be able to give out one day. Participants: Brown Recluse, Joey Litman, Tom Ziller, Ty Keenan, and yours truly.

Least Likely to Dunk in a Game: Jeff Adrien. Dude could barely finish in traffic when he was playing against other 6'6" power forwards. Now what's going to happen? In a ceremony held before the show, Jeff was also named Most Likely to Be Tyler Hansbrough. It was an upset.

Next Russell Westbrook: Rodrique Beaubois. Post-Pietrus (both We Believe and now), where is France in FD Geographical Rankings? Behind Germany (Dirk, Anthony Randolph, Donte Greene) surely.

Most Likely to Pull an MJ and Quit to Play Beach Volleyball: Chase Budinger. Remember this post?

Most Likely to Be the Bill Clinton of the NBA: Chase Budinger. Higher vert than DeRozan! And unlike Brent Barry, he's not insufferable. As a warm-up to All-Star weekend H-O-R-S-E, we need a Budinger/Joe Alexander pit-jumping contest.

Most Likely to Become Julian Wright: Earl Clark. Tall, multi-faceted swingman who can't shoot. Should get taken by a fairly deep team and waste away on the bench.

Most Likely to Surprise Everyone By Being White: Nando de Colo.

Most Blazerly Player Not on the Blazers: Stephen Curry. Seriously, will someone please draft Curry and trade him for Jerryd Bayless? His light-skinneded nice guy-ness belongs in Portland. (NOTE: It was all a dream. . . )

Most Likely to Be Involved in an Unfortunate Off-Court Incident: DeMar DeRozan. I'm just sayin', the signs aren't good.

Most Likely to be the Barack Obama of Utah: Wayne Ellington. Not the western frontiersman that Karl Malone was (or is, as he's likely shooting at something out the back of his 18-wheeler right now), Wayne is, instead, the sort of mainstream (UNC-bred) African-American made for Utah: articulate and bright and clean and a nice-looking guy. He's also the sort of system scorer who could thrive in Utah, where NBADraft.net is projecting he winds up.



Most Next O.J. Mayo-y: Tyreke Evans. Both have some point guard skills, but really should not be playing that position in the NBA. He's wired to score and will average 20 at some point in his career, if not next year, but still, I'm not seeing a lot of All-Star games in his future.

Most Likely to Suffer Because of Everyone's Socio-Cultural Baggage: Tyreke Evans. I find it inspiring, and bound for disaster, that Evans is rocketing up draft boards. He went to Memphis, has PG credentials based on part of a college season, is William Wesley-related, come from a place where the basketball courts barely work, has a crazy name, and likes to dribble. Are scouts just the most tolerant, color-blind, unencumbered folks in the biz?

Most Likely to Represent Blue/Red State Divide: Tyler Hansbrough. When I went to see the Tar Heels play Valpo back in December, a friend and fellow UNC alum asked me if I would ever wear a Hansbrough jersey in public. I replied in the negative, a conclusion with which he agreed. There's nothing cool about the guy, but I've always liked players like Haslem and Millsap, and that's who Hansbrough is in the NBA. Verdict: Moderately FreeDarko.

Most Likely to Miss His T-Shirt: James Harden. Played so within the flow at ASU that you wondered whether he had a mental block on taking over games, to the point where his undershirt took on the significance of a security blanket. In the pros, he might need to wear three headbands to compensate.

Most Likely to Be Tall: Jordan Hill.

Most Likely to Make Bilas Eject Spittle When Chosen Lottery, Other Than Brandon Jennings, Which is Really Too Fucking Obvious: Jrue Holiday.

Most Assonant Name: Damion James

Most Likely to Develop a Cult Following: Damion James. Many players eligible for outsized mythology--justifiable or not--will go in the lottery, and there's nothing cult about that. But James has spent his career on the periphery of our general consciousness, seemingly imprisoned by what he could accomplish were he to figure out what he's meant to be doing. Bang or slash? Diversify or specialize? He will show flashes, especially if he gets to reunite with KD and make it thunder, and that may have the internets going nuts.

Most Likely to Birth His Own Zen Koan: Brandon Jennings. If experts scoff at Jennings's stint overseas, saying he's going where he would've after a year at college, but the kid's obviously gotten better, does it matter where he ends up going?



Best Point Guard in the Draft who has Never Played Professional Basketball in Europe: Ty Lawson. He's like a sturdier TJ Ford who, because he doesn't try to dunk on people, has a much lower likelihood of spinal cord damage.

Least Likely to Be Drafted by the Knicks: Ty Lawson. A point guard who can't be kept out of the lane, pushes the tempo, hits free throws, is a born leader, and has a reasonable jumper? Makes too much sense. Perversely, he would have been more likely to be chosen were Isiah Thomas still in charge.

Most Likely to Kill My Draft Night Buzz: B.J. Mullens. Who the fuck cares? When his name gets called, that's around the time I'll start to lose focus and get hungry. If it's way too high, I will freak out and break lanterns.

Most Likely to Score 50 One Night and Be Talking about It for the Next 40 Years: Tyrese Rice. Can choose shots as though he were a hot JR Smith, and for Rice, the planning can start from the moment he even considers getting out of bed. Of course, this means we don't expect too much else. If the Kentucky Tony Delk had been less accomplished, a little more insane, less of a real shooter, and slightly more streakier....

Ricky Rubio.

Most Likely to Get Red Lips Tattooed on His Neck: Terrence Williams. If Kenyon Martin was a wing player, he would be a lot like this.

Most Complex Prospect on the Right Way/New Jack Spectrum: Terrence Williams. Defense and rebounding like a Larry Brown creation, thought process of a Nellieball android.

Talking Like a Champion: This Week's Podcast

This week's edition of FreeDarko Presents the Disciples of Clyde NBA Podcast has Dan, Ken, chopping it up with Dan's old pal, Kris DeBlasio of 1400 The Team in Columbia, SC. Kris has some serious college ball background, and thus the expertise flows free on the subject of the draft, the lottery, player development, and why people like sandwiches. Okay, that last one was a lie, but I would've brought it up if I'd been around.

The Podcast:



Music (high school favorites!):

1. “Excursions” - A Tribe Called Quest
2. “Would” - Alice in Chains
3. “Bullet in the Head” - Rage Against the Machine
4. “Who Got Da Props” - Black Moon
5. “Keepin the Faith” - De La Soul
6. “Forty Six and 2″ - Tool
7. “No One’s Leaving” - Jane’s Addiction
8. “Duel” - Swervedriver

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

RETURN OF THE LIVE BLOG

In typical FD fashion, we decided to chat the NBA Draft Lottery, but not the first game of Nuggets/Lakers. Shoals had zingers galore, Ty Keenan dropped PAC-10 knowledge, Dr. LIC made several WILD-ASS claims, and I took dictation.

Shoals: What would make this lottery exciting? I think if a team jumped, I'd be yelling like a cow. Could anything else?

Ty Keenan: If we're going for drama, there is a potentially interesting situation if the Warriors get #2, because Dan Fegan is Rubio and Al Harrington's agent.

Recluse: Who gets Rubio is the most (only?) exciting thing about this draft.

Shoals: Ricky Rubio has a woman's desperation in his eyes

Dr. LIC: Ricky Rubio's nickname is FOOLZ GOLD.


Shoals: Is there any chance David Stern doesn't have mob connections? I mean, really.

Recluse: "We never lose date smackdowns"!!!!!!

Shoals: What else makes a man that short that confident?

Recluse: A HUGE COCK

Shoals: Welcome to the terrordome. I mean, synagogue.



Shoals: Are there still actual balls?

Ty Keenan: I think it's numbered balls that come out in a sequence, and the sequence corresponds to a team.

Shoals: That sounds like some crazy robot shit, not a bingo machine.

Recluse: Brandon Jennings's Twitter is the best thing ever, by the way.

Shoals: I just realized that his Twitter actually is an oracle of sorts tonight.

Recluse: Brandon Jennings is smart. I kind of can't believe he got an SAT score red-flagged. Maybe he got a legitimately high score? Check it:

"Most Important thing about the Draft/NBA, Get on a TEAM that fits your game and kill those 3yrs and GET THAT Big 2nd contract! O yea and WIN"

Shoals: Webber would pretend he can eat a giant hamburger.

Dr. LIC: Sacramento is poised to blow next year. that is a prime coaching job.

Recluse: Wait until the lottery. There are very few game-changers in this draft.

Shoals: Magic and Bird need to be on a "Golden Girls" remake.




Shoals: How much better would this Heinekin ad be with a Kool G Rap song?

Dr. LIC: No white girl knows the non-chorus words to "Just a Friend."


Shoals: Sometimes, JVG props his chin up on his mic. JVG doing "One Mic" in hip-hop karaoke is funny to me.

Shoals: Is this a new scary Jew? Did that guy take the place of Adam Silver?

Dr. LIC: Bilas is already convinced Derozan won't be picked early enough.

Shoals: Bilas is still trying to atone for Josh Smith.

Recluse: Hey, Ty Keenan, is Harden really a better NBA prospect than Derozan?

Ty Keenan: He's just more polished, but Derozan's ceiling is much higher

Shoals: POLISHED LIKE A SEAL

Ty Keenan: Anyway, Harden plays sorta like Roy did towards the end of his time at U-Dub, but not nearly as consistent and just worse in general.

Shoals: What does Blake Griffin do in the dark that determines his greatness? Shit like a horse?

Dr. LIC: Wait, Bilas literally has Curry in the top ten? Curry is the next Redick.

Recluse: Does Brandon Jennings have a draft suit advantage since HE LIVES IN ITALY?



Dr. LIC: Lakers are a terrible matchup for Denver. Nugs could beat anyone in the East though.

Recluse: Nuggets would not beat Cavs, dude, come on.

Dr. LIC: The matchups completely favor the Nuggets: Melo cancels out Lebron (bold statement). Dahntay Jones would guard James, too. One-on-one. Billups > Mo Williams. Nene/Birdman >>>>>> ENERGY>>>>> Z and V. Melo is sneakily unguardable.

Ty Keenan: Lebron is loudly unguardable.

Shoals: This isn't worth getting into.


Dr. LIC: C-Webb at the Kings seat is sadder than Jesus at the last supper.

Shoals: In what capacity does C-Webb rep the Kings? Did he retire a King?

Dr. LIC: Also, IF THEY DONT GET THE FIRST PICK it's all his fault why would you put him through that?

Shoals: This is the lamest party in the world.
Dr. LIC: Thorn can't lose. Oh shit: Thorn vs Colangelo in a battle of CANT LOSING!

Ty Keenan: Why is Reggie Jackson a good luck charm?

Shoals: Reggie will work for cereal.

Dr. LIC: Reggie's ego gets him into everything.

Recluse: Kevin Love looks like he's primed for his confirmation.



Ty Keenan: If Silver is there, then who was the other Jew?

Recluse: N: "Who is that ghoul?"

Dr. LIC: Adam Silver is Stern's goon.

[It is revealed that Sacramento has the #4 pick, precipitating various exclamations, many profane.]

Ty Keenan: This is so sad for Webber.

Shoals: They probably hired him to come on because they know he can take it. What hasn't that man been through or been blamed for?

Shoals: When doesn't the #1 overall matter? When the Clippers get it!

Dr. LIC: Griffin is doomed.

Ty Keenan: This guy has definitely never been on tv before.

Recluse: He's never talked to a girl before.

Shoals: He doesn't own a phone.

Dr. LIC: He owns a non-mobile phone.

That Ghost Holds My Hand!

Let me attempt to explain to all of you exactly why the "Z-graphs" (link is to overview) were so seductive. On a number of intuitive, if largely metaphoric, levels, they made perfect sense: Both center and point guard, the position's most often discussed in terms of "purity," are represented as untroubled rows of attributes. They flow from logically from one to the next, even as they start toward more nebulous areas. But insofar as we believe these positions to have some sort of enduring essence, it makes sense that they'd maintain an untroubled, un-sloped plane of description. Furthermore, this allows either the PG or C section to serve as a base—or, to reify the thought, a foundation. This is consistent with our understanding of big men to this day, but the Stockton/Cousy point guard who excelled simply at a select set of responsibilities essential to any functional line-up, no longer defines the position (sorry, Steve Blake). For instance, Chris Paul, arguably the finest in the league at this position, was almost single-handedly responsible for the scrapping of the "Z," since his chart was almost as "impure" as that of, say, Allen Iverson. Paul basks in legitimacy, as did forebears Isiah, Kevin Johnson, and Payton. The likes of Magic and to some degree, Kidd, are pure in heart but can't help contributing all the over the place as well.

I never felt like Rose/Beasley was really a small man/big man dilemma. Beasley's a total weirdo and an idiosyncratic player, more SF than some SF's, more PF than many PF's, and quite possibly to "tweener" what Arenas was to "combo guard." Rose, on the other hand, was a pure point guard (relatively, historically, speaking). But with Ricky Rubio throwing his name into the hat for this summer's draft, we finally are presented with a real small/big dilemma. Blake Griffin is big, athletic, fairly skilled, and automatic; Rubio is mercurial, Pistol-like as a descriptive quality, and a natural-made trickster with an offense. Griffin—stable, staunch, and unromantic—is exactly the kind of foundation proposed by the visual metaphor of the "Z". The connotations will bury you, so don't spend too much time there: Anchoring the frontcourt, providing insurance through boards, dunks, and interior defense, you build a team around a known quantity that, for lack of a non-slang term, holds it down at both ends. Indisputably. Today's point guard, though, isn't drafted to provide a foundation (as the "Z" would suggest), but a non-stop spark. They're playmakers, here to furnish the unexpected without betraying our trust, following their muse as responsibly as possible while taking the team with them. They are, in short, anti-foundational, always reaching upward and looking for that new angle or opportunity. That involves running an offense and controlling the ball, but its stability is exactly that assurance of ambitious play-making that sweeps up the rest of the team with it.



For the most pure example of this impure point guard, you need look no further than Rajon Rondo, who has gone grievously underrated in this series exactly because he cares so little to project authority, gravitas, or emotion—those silly markers of "quarterbacking" that, ironically, have no place in Brett Favre-inspired mayhem.. I'm not placing Rondo in the same anarchic category as Westbrook, because he obviously fits into the Celtics (or rather, the team accommodates and respond to him). But instead of pin-point passing and orchestrated partings of the defense, Rondo just kind of speeds towards the basket or ball on every play, and then either ends up tossing in an off-balance lay-up, crookedly finding a teammate for the easy shot, or grabbing the rebound. Same goes for his defense: He'll lock down opponents, only to lunge after loose balls and errant passes not with a speedster's hubris, but because it's his job to make a play. He's fast, physical, and utterly undemonstrative. Rajon Rondo is the engine of that team, especially in this series, and yet he remains strangely elusive. You wonder if he's not just making every decision on the fly, in an off-hand manner that evokes nothing if not his childhood idol Favre. There's no need for poise, or bravura, because Rondo just blankets the court with his blinding speed and long arms. He's vague, even ectoplasmic, everywhere at once while only rarely making what feels like a statement play.

Does that make Rondo any kind of traditional "foundation"? Of course not. But if he keeps this up, then no lack of poise, or stability, can take away from the key role he plays on that team. Maybe Rondo is the ultimate postmodern PG. Not in the scoring vein of Isiah, or Magic/Kidd's augmented pure point-ness. Unlike Rose, Rondo is anything but immediate and tactile. If you blink you might miss him, because he does little to establish any continuity or sustained position of authority. Yet for all the fragments and impression he yields, for all his refusal to stand up and project authority, Rondo is doing exactly what a new, non-foundational PG should. He takes care of the ball, makes it move, creates shots for others, and consistently saves possessions when they appear lost. That he produces little that can pass for iconic or poised shows only that he's mastered the raw material of playmaking, and with it, a resistance to fall back on cliche or positional piety. Not a foundation, but a skyward gesture that sets parameters by remaining tethered to the team.