Still Waters Run Shallow

A profound believer in liberated fandom, djturtleface loves the worst or most peculiar teams in the league. In third grade he listed Rasheed Wallace as his idol, and currently writes for TheGoodPoint.com. He just started SB Nation's Memphis Grizzlies blog Straight Outta Vancouver, which is an exercise in pain, misfortune, and hope for a better tomorrow.

Trevor hates sports more than, perhaps, anything else. In fact Trevor’s has irrational hate for everything that doesn’t pique his interest is the only thing that keeps me from definitively saying sports are the main target of his loathing. You see Trevor prefers to spend his days as an active citizen, devouring monographic texts on the complexities of nuclear deterrence theory. He fancies himself a thinker, an intellectual even, and resents that others are more interested in half-heartedly watching a second episode of Sportscenter instead of making sure to catch this week’s U.S.-Chinese Strategic Economic Dialogue on CSPAN.

So needless to say I was skeptical when Trevor sent me an article he described as “probably about basketball, you like that, don’t you?” I damn near closed the tab when I saw a goofy white dude with thick rimmed glasses and a weak ass ‘fro staring back at me, until I read the subtitle: “When underdogs break the rules.” Intriguing. Except horrible.

When I talked to Trevor later that day I told him how I thought the article was fucking stupid. I straight up murdered that shit. Guess what pal? No fourteen year old team is really all that talented, so it’s not like the metaphorical glass ceiling was too high for up and coming team to break shatter. Not to take anything away from the sport, but my high school’s girls team once scored under 20 points in a game—scratch that, a win.

Trevor, possessing a biting wit, responded, “Didn’t you just write like a page long feature about how bad-ass some team was cause they were so odd?” Oops, there goes gravity.



The team in question was the Golden State Warriors. And the short piece theorized that if we remember sports are ultimately an exchange of entertainment for pay, wherein wins and losses are just one function of entertainment, then the W’s are actually one of the most successful teams in the league. Their games are thrilling, they give 48 minutes of excitement, and the constant tension between Nellie and his riotous players fosters a compelling and dramatic narrative. While the team might not be win many games, both the Golden State Warriors and their fans are certainly winners.

But every time we boot up ESPN, watch Sir Charles rant on Inside the NBA, or listen to the B.S. Report we are reminded that championships and wins are the measure of the quality of sport. On top of that brainwashing we’re reminded that only certain types of teams win championships—teams that are about as unique as Simmons’ punch lines.

As a result of this propaganda most fans perceive unique teams like the Warriors as gadgets or tricksters, somehow perennially inferior to the real contenders. The Magic can’t win in a series—live by the three die by the three, bad luck will eventually hit. And my, oh my, look at that Rafer Alston’s street ball moves, aren’t they a neat distraction! The Nuggets don’t have any chance—up-tempo teams just don’t play enough defense to win big games. By the way, friends, please note that J.R. Smith has no basketball awareness. It must be because those tattoos cover his eyes too!



Of course in reality the curse of the three-pointer is a myth carried over from the NCAA’s one-and-done tournament format and streaky shooters. The Magic shot the three more consistently than any other team deep in the playoffs, which makes sense considering that the greater the sample the more likely you are to find the mean. As far as fast pace equaling a lack of defense, Denver was 6th in the league in defensive efficiency despite missing Kenyon Martin for much of the season, much better than even moribund grinders like the Spurs and Trailblazers. Anyone who watched the Denver’s playoff losses recognized they lost due to late game offensive blunders, not defense.

Considering how few teams played with a style asymmetrical to league trends last season, I count 8 (Knicks, 76ers, Magic, Pacers, Rockets [without Yao], Nuggets, Warriors, Suns), isn’t it modestly impressive that half made the playoffs, none were embarrassed, and two made the Conference Finals? If you play the percentages, teams who employ unique strategies to maximize their advantages actually tend to be competitors more often. Now remember that the Suns would probably still be in the Conference Finals picture too if it weren’t for their owner’s shameful identity crisis.

Perhaps it was fate that the Suns would be betrayed by their owner, since the only thing that had ever kept them from winning multiple champions was catching a couple breaks. Or, rather, they caught too many breaks. Joe Johnson broke his face, Amar’e broke his knees, Amar’e and Diaw broke the rules, and Nash broke his nose. But Steve Nash standing back up, defiant with his face bloodied, will be my image of a winner’s spirit forever. The pained determination in his eyes was enough to make you wonder if he had asked God why he had forsaken him. And yet since we all should be preaching “defense wins championships” so kids will learn to be winners for life at elementary school basketball camps, the story books will remember Nash and the seven-seconds-till-death Suns as nothing but an entertaining sideshow to the Spurs dynasty.



Yes, the haters are right that none of these eight teams have won a championship lately, and they’re right that recently the ranks on Larry O’Brien’s trophy are devoid of a team with a unique, non-traditional style. But consider the three greatest dynasties in the NBA’s history: the Bill Russell Celtics, the Showtime Lakers, and the Jordan Bulls. Believe it or not, Russel’s Celtics thrived off fast-breaks at a time when clothes-lining a streaking wing was considered a defensive fundamental. The Showtime Lakers overcame having stars named Ferdinand and Earvin to become flashy to a fault at times, they admittedly made no effort on defense, and the guy named Earvin could and would play all five positions. Of the three only the Jordan Bulls even vaguely resembles what we now know as the prototypical blueprint for success, whatever the fuck that even means, and that’s likely only because Jordan’s dominance shaped the model in our collective minds.

A week or two ago I was chatting with Trevor and we stumbled into a breezy conversation about Third World development and dependency theory. To explain my point I dropped a little round ball reference: the Lakers want the Kings to try to build around Kevin Martin like he’s Kobe, because they know the Kings will never grow into contenders that way. They want the Grizzlies’ young core to fail because they can rape their greatest resources for a pittance in return. And the fans are strung along the whole way, struggling to subsist while waiting for that true shooting guard or seven foot shot-blocking center they just know is the final piece.

I was pretty proud of the metaphor, and thought I might have smartly, meaningfully bridged the gap between disciplines.

But Trevor just told me it was fucking stupid.

Bucking Mines

Timely as ever, I'd like to weigh in on the Steve Nash contract extension, which is now centuries old news in internet time...

There are many theories on what exactly "ruined" the Suns that have so defined this millenium of pro basketball. I choose to blame D'Antoni's (fixable) failure to get tough on the team's rebounding woes, bad luck with the timing of Amare's injuries, the firing of D'Antoni, the replacement of D'Antoni with Terry Porter, the ill-timed acquisition of Shaquille O'Neal, and in general, Steve Kerr. I don't really buy into theories about Sarver's cheapness, trading all those draft picks, or not holding on to Joe Johnson/Q-Rich/Marcus Banks...etc.



















The Suns were always a team poised to win RIGHT NOW. There was no use for building toward the future with late first round picks. They never had a distinctly "old" team until the Hill/Nash/Shaq triumverate, and with Nash and Amare alone, they ALWAYS have a fighting chance.

And now they still do.

Despite Kerr's idiocy, Amare and Nash (miraculously) are still there. Nash might be on steroids for all I know (BLOGGER ALERT), but he isn't going to be demonstrably worse this year. And Amare might be better (?). May I present to you the possibility that this Nash extension gives the Suns one last glimmer of hope?

--Nash signing an extension says one of two things: (1) I believe I can win a championship with this franchise, or (2) This franchise gave me a new life and two MVP trophies. I owe it to them to re-sign, and PS, I'm satisfied. Either way, a happy Nash is good for at least 15 and 8.

--A summer and a half worth of ridiculous trade rumors may in fact inspire Amare Stoudemire to play tougher than he already does? I don't know. This might be a reach.

--A strong supporting cast of IF guys. IF J-Rich can knock down the open jumpers, IF Robin Lopez proves to be a serviceable back-up, IF Leandro Barbosa can regain form....the Suns have depth

--A host of players that can potentially solve the rebounding quandary (again, IF Robin Lopez is worth a damn...)

--Teams will no longer GET UP to play them. The Suns no longer boast that fear-inducing NBA championship squad on paper that causes TNT/ESPN/ABC to over-book them and teams to treat matches with them like Gladitorial arena battles. The Suns, for the first time in the Nash era, may actually be able to sneak up on teams...

Am I blindly grasping to hold on to an era that no longer exists? Potentially. But I am soberly not ready to admit that the Suns are over, merely because of what the Shaq trade appeared to signal (rebuilding). Nash's re-signing initially gave me feelings of emptiness, the thoughts of him and Amare roaming around in blank space, carrying the guilt of two 19th century Russian lit protagonist partners in crime. But then I reoriented: It signaled a last gasp of hope.

I am curious to see what the Suns do with desperation, which could be the last motivational tool they have.
























ADDENDUM:

The original version of this post (embarrassingly) included references to both Matt Barnes (the news of whose signing I totally missed) and Ben Wallace (inexcusable for falling off my radar). All I can say is that my NBA game has not been air tight this summer, and I'm getting back on track.

Also, I suppose I *should* reference the only things the Suns have actively done this season besides signing Nash: Grant Hill, Channing Frye, and Earl Clark. Truth is, these guys don't add much, except for providing even more of a blank canvas for Nash and Amare to operate on. Grant Hill keeps shit stable in the locker room. Channing Frye's young-journeyman tag should provide him with some inspiration to get back to rookie year form and to improve on his rebounding, and Earl Clark does absolutely nothing for me (I actually think getting a PG who could spell Nash (Jrue, Ty Lawson) would have been a better pick here).

The important thing is that, for the first time in a while, Phoenix is keeping shit simple. Contrast this with 2009 playoff alums Dallas, Utah, or even, say, Portland, who at this point have generated too high of expectations and are spinning squads of 'too many people who need to be kept happy.' Steve and the Suns made a mutual gesture of good faith, and this bump of positivity coupled with a sense of "nothing to lose" gives them some optimism for 09-10.

Baked Alaska

I usually hate the sun, in fact, it places undue pressure on me to love life and makes me that much more determined to hide in the shadows. But fuck it, it's been gorgeous here for three days, there's only so much basketball on, and no one's checking their email. So I'm suddenly filled with spring fever—more like compulsion—and have to get to the water and get my tan on.

Before I run out the door, though, I did want to say a few things about last night's game. Sorry for the lack of frilly language, these are more notes that grew out of post-game conversation:

-I recognize that this Cavs loss somewhat mutes my latest spasms of LeBron-mania.

-That said, it is kind of sad to watch Bron go straight at Howard like the DPOY doesn't have shit on him. You wonder if an angrier Dwight might help here.

-At some point, I began to wonder if the Magic could only win, or at least impress me with a win, if they made a comeback that was . . . ummm, magical?

-Based on conversations with my friend Nate, Kevin Pelton, and my own two eyes, it's become obvious to me: Howard is a monster on offense provided he's in motion. Give him the damn ball, just make sure he's cutting, leaping, or in a position to make one step and then dunk. That's why, even though he could stand to diversity his offense, it is on SVG and other players to see this gives them a tremendous weapon right now. See also Game 1 of this series.

-Someone needs to tell Howard that him stationary in the post is a total dead-end. Unless he's got a total mismatch. When Amare was a raw killing machine in 2004-05, the trick to his success was that he avoided this situation like the plague. Now, Howard will never be able to expand his range, or ability to put the ball on the floor, like Stoudemire has done—the main way he's overcome the obvious limitation of not playing in the post. So who knows what the long-term prognosis for Howard is. But Amare was never as imposing as Howard. There's no reason he can't be used creatively so that, in short, the post is always the terms set by Howard's lateral or upward motion.

-Not surprisingly, Kevin just realized he'd said something like this several years ago:

For years now, Howard has drawn comparisons to Phoenix's Amaré Stoudemire because of how both players have a prodigious combination of size, strength, and athleticism. The comparisons break down at some point, because Howard is a far better rebounder and defender than Stoudemire, but the Magic clearly learned from how the Suns accelerated Stoudemire's development by pairing him with Steve Nash and surrounding him with double-team neutralizing outside shooters.

And also. . .

We're trained to recognize that those kind of outside shooters help beat double-teaming of a post player, a style so popular in the NBA in the 1990s that was perfected by the Houston Rockets around Hakeem Olajuwon. However, the Suns of recent vintage have demonstrated that deep threats can be just as valuable when it comes to running pick-and-rolls. Even though Magic point guards Carlos Arroyo and Jameer Nelson are not on Nash's level, the Orlando pick-and-roll is still difficult to defend because teams can't leave the outside shooters to provide help and because Howard is so good at going up and getting the ball on lobs to the rim.

-KP adds: "The point now is they realized this a long time ago, and then seemed to forget it in these playoffs, either because Nelson/sorta Turkoglu were hurt or because of ORTHODOXY."

-Tangentially related, Rafer Alston is so weird. He's at his best as a straightforward guard. Nothing outside-of-the-box or too improvisational.

-So yeah, despite Joey's earlier critique of Howard, the Magic could be making a lot more of the current situation. And maybe Dwight could stop making me feel so damn bad for him, as LeBron plays like him with perimeter skills.

-It's true, I wrote something claiming that a big game from J.R. was more important to the Nuggets than Billups stepping it up. That probably would've made more sense around these parts. But I would still like to forget it happened.

-GO WONDER PETS!!!!!!!

SELF IS THE NEW STATS

Tune in elsewhere for Dr. LIC's Black/Jew essay and a truly epic Shoals Unlimited (BOTH UP NOW!).

I really don't like to go back and do an entire post on something from another post that I failed to clearly explain the first time around. It smacks of self-obsessed perfectionism, which is to say, it can obscure whether or not the material really matters that much. But like most of you, I am mortal, impatient, and occasionally busy, which means that my favorite part of yesterday's post got condensed—maybe compressed—into this impenetrable passage:

The challenge, then is to somehow quantify stupidity on both side. Wide-open lay-ups, drives into four defenders, cherry picks, full-court drives, gambling for the steal on every play. . . these are the markers of deviance, and big surprise, the ball I love. Remove them, and pace could truly be universalized. I wonder, though if there's not a slippery slope, or two of them, on either side of an equilibrium forever in question. Where you set it, what represents the mean, is strictly a matter of preference.

To review, the purpose of yesterday's post was to address "D'Antoni inflation," and determine if such a thing were truly statistically possible. Such an investigation would help us all better understand just how to view Kobe's 61-point game; like, if the numbers were completely inflated, then how much of a statement game could it have been? Ziller proved that adjusting for pace alone yielded no conclusive difference, so we delved into the possibility of a qualitative difference. The anecdotal evidence for this is rich, if a little perverse: Namely, players suck after leaving D'Antoni. This feeds into Simmons's claim that D'Antoni screws with the game's collective brain, the LSD of its sporting era, and some never quite recover. To actually "deflate" stats requires some standard by which we filter out "good" plays from "crazy" ones. Simmons suggests no such things, but unlike home runs in baseball, here we are talking about a difference in style—something that clearly manifests itself on the basketball court. One could conceivably draw distinctions, as opposed to estimating, via advance trigonometry, which balls wouldn't have gone the distance if struck by a non-roided up batter.

I was not, however, endorsing this sorting of play-by-play data, because applying the kind of criteria Simmons hints at is both totalitarian and self-defeating. For one, as you can guess, the line between stupid and inspired is preciously thin in the NBA, or at least the NBA as I prefer it to be. When you start to judge plays based on how rational they are, or whether they represent the most efficient form of execution, then you end up fast in Dave Berri territory. That's not to say that D'Antoni teams, or Nelson's Warriors, aren't at the far end of that spectrum. A normative basketball, though, would force you to pass judgemnent on individual basketball acts, regardless of context, overall flow of the game, or symbolic pay-off. Not exactly friendly soil for revelation or transcendence. This also raises the question of whether all basketball contains such imperfections, and thus the goal would be to adjust teams for their relative "stupidity", or punitively hold them all to a single standard.



The latter seems downright evil. You could end up with very, very strong teams punished for not being sufficiently perfect, or not pursuing a single-minded approach to the game. In an even yuckier version of things, the standard is not any particular team that season, but a nameless, faceless archetype, such that the players and teams that have come to define "smart" ball would still have to measure up to an ideal. It goes without saying that truth lies in creation-through-example, not a coach's imagination. The former brings up the question of where exactly you put that mean. Would it be based strictly on that year's numbers? Or is it inserted arbitrarily, a reflection of one's own stylistic preference? In both cases, deflation becomes an essentially political act.

To bring it back to reality, we are on some level talking about the primacy of identity-through-style. Is the game not defined by particular players and teams, the limits of the reasonable charted anew each night? If a man finds himself through "foolishness," well the, who plays the fool? There is only a "wrong way" or "bad plays" if they result from clear misapplication and lead to indisputable wreckage. So what if the Suns screw with people's heads, or there are clear-cut "D'Antoni players?" It's like acid casualties from the sixties. Are we really suggesting that era should've stayed clean, so it would be easier to compare with those that preceded it?

Oh, and only because it can never be said enough: The Suns didn't win any titles, but they have changed the definition of "stupid." Point guards now matter more than centers. Every team plays some small ball now, no one milks the clock. Phoenix itself ran away from the very low rumble of change that they set into motion. Perhaps the right thinking here is that D'Antoni's stats are ahead of their time, and those who emerge from his teams suffering from a permanent time-travel hangover. I've had those, and they suck. Maybe we should be looking at inflating former Suns' numbers so they accomodate a greater amount of "stupidity."

Note: Al Harrington is the Rosetta Stone of this shit.

Take Your Sunday

Now I am really fucking snowed in, and Lady Shoals has gone mute from illness. So here are some notes/thoughts of a basketball nature that came to me this morning. Consider them the survivalist version of yesterday's post.

-Have I ever said, somewhere, that the Suns did win in the end, at least in spirit? Every team in the world plays small and fast sometimes now. Does that mean that, had the 2004-05 team remained intact, they would've gotten a title, or were they the extremists who sparked mainstream change? Logic says no. Besides, the 2006-07 team was more moderate, better on paper, and could easily have ended up in the Finals had it not been for some serious bullshit. Yet for some reason, I feel like it's the 2004-05 squad that would've been the most dangerous in the climate they've now brought about.

-I'm really taking seriously the possibility that LeBron does sign this summer. Cavs look great, Williams and West are low-key Positional Revolution, a poor man's Arenas/Hughes (oh, the irony), and with Wally and Wallace expiriing, the team will have cap space to sign Bosh or Amare, both of whom will be looking to change teams for sure in 2010. Doesn't that spell multiple rings to you? Where exactly would Bron have a better shot at championships?

-Haven't quite figured this one out yet, but Josh Smith needs to stay in motion constantly. Which is sort of the same thing as saying he needs to just study Amare's game intensely. He's not a PF, can't post up conventionally, and especially with Horford so important, is just getting in the way/wasting his talents when he meanders around the paint trying to get position. Smith needs to always be on his way toward the hoop to be effective. That can involve taking a few dribbles himself, or being hit with a less-than-perfect pass. But what doesn't work is his starting from a stand-still up top or trying to get his bearings down low, with the ball.

-For better or worse, he's not the new Sheed.



-Still thinking about the scoring leaders. I guess I'm just surprised to see Harris, Granger, and Roy near the top, because I never considered them dominant scorers. Don't Paul or Howard seem a tier higher than them? I mean based on presence alone. It's not only a change, it's one we didn't see coming, and I think that FD favors prophecies that come true, not change trumping the narrative.

-Though maybe I need to look further down, spot Ben Gordon on there, and once and for all view this list worth a grain of salt.

-I can't decide if this Pistons thing—combined with the end in Denver—is badly fucking with Iverson's legacy, or has just made him irrelevant. And then, the walking dead or an OG everyone opens the door for? Yes, I'm writing this as they cut to him on the bench in the fourth.

You Sometimes Just Find Yourself

Read my TSB column, where I insist that the future is here (again), if only the Knicks would release Marbury, bench Curry and Randolph until they're traded, and Pat Riley would let this Heat team emulate the 2003-04 cult faves.

On a similar note, and related to Dr. LIC's "little things" spree: I love this quote from Posting and Toasting's coverage of Knicks camp:

Q's intensity is almost frightening. He's clearly feeling the heat of Wilson Chandler reaching for his starting 3 spot. Richardson was animated all night, screaming, spiking balls, and throwing towels after any miscues in the scrimmages. You can tell he sets the tone for the younger guys by taking practice so seriously.

I think we've all already bled enough over where Darius Miles has been, and what we all lost in the fire. Him and Garnett joining up is an oldies package tour, not destiny at last. And I can't say I'd be thrilled to see Miles vindicated in life by backing up Leon Powe on a championship team.

About Richardson, though: I only just realized today that Q and D'Antoni are being reunited. Is this a good or bad thing? Quentin's most consistent season came with Phoenix, but all he did was jack up threes. He probably went to the basket once all year, and overnight stopped being one of the league's better rebounding guards. With the Clippers, he often looked like an exciting young player trying to get steady, bring his skills into focus and define his role (like Miles, but not so grotesque an undertaking). The Suns were his undoing, since they asked him to turn long-range gunner and lose all perspective on the floor. And then abruptly, D'Antoni didn't need him and decided his triggermen had to be a little more steady, less outrageous. Whether D'Antoni ends up having much use for Richardson, and if so, what kind of game he expects of him, will tell us a lot about the evolution of the coach's thinking, as well as of those Suns teams. And if—when the Knicks give him acceptable raw material to work with—he'll move into a new phase, or pick up where he left off pre-Shaq.

I also wonder if Richardson ever thinks about the effect D'Antoni had on his career arc. And whether he's out to prove to his teammates, D'Antoni, or both that he counts among the enlightened in this new era.