String Those Nerves Together Now

In olden days, I would have said "read what I wrote over there but this is the real", and then poured out my innards. But the problem with FanHouse is that they want me doing whatever. Have you read the previews Ziller and I did? I really couldn't make any less sense if I wanted to. So read them. Thus, as the playoff monster begins to stir, I find myself on my own doormat, faced with the possibility that what's on FD might be more straightforward than my "real" gig. Strange times we inhabit. However, I wanted to tend to these lands, dry and shriveled as they have become. So here's my very sober, useful rundown of Things That Persuade Me in This Postseason.

1. The Thunder--Really, can there be any doubt? Forget for a second that Durant is, if not LeBron's narrative, mystical equal, maybe even greater for not being equipped with a superpower's physique. He looks like I figure Young Ezekiel did, and also deserves some sort of otherworldly, possibly Martian, nickname. LeBron is, pardson the pun, all embronzed. Durant is exotic metals; there's a reason why, at one point, there was an Avatar comparison for him in a part of the new book. I think we finally decided it was at once too true and too silly to comprehend.

But the Thunder as a whole represent so much we've been in favor of while—and here's the kicker—without seeming like a leap of faith. Serge Ibaka is not a test. Russell Westbrook is not a test. The Hawks when they dared face Boston were exhilarating, but living on the edge can sometimes leave you feeling tawdry. No one thinks OKC beat LA, but good luck finding a single serious basketball fan who expects a sweep with zero intrigue.

2. Brandon Jennings--Tyreke Evans is a major stylist, and I still don't think people are letting that all-around game of his sink in. I've made my peace with Curry. But Jennings is the only one left standing, and while the Bucks are taking two games---no more, no less--tell me you aren't excited to see Jennings try his hand at the playoffs. No Bogut hurts the team's case, and Jennings' absolute value, and yet if the Bucks are going down anyway, why not do so with something resembling a Brandon Jennings showcase? I'm not talking about no 55; that's probably what led to his abrupt drop off the ROY map (and Curry's rise).

Let's just see Jennings carry himself like he belongs there, run his team, and demonstrate the game that makes him a clear-cut building block at the one. At the beginning of the season, the AI comparisons were pure bunk to me. I loved Jennings best when he slithered around the half-court looking to make a play. He can either jack up shots here in desperation or dig in and try to animate the bunch. One good thing about Skiles: He will be, umm, gently pushing for number two.

3. Dwyane Wade-- No one told me, I didn't notice, and frankly (stats aside), it didn't show all the time. But Wade was still pretty out-of-this-world in the 2009-10. Thus, I am looking forward for Wade to really blow it all out. That Round One is against Boston, the perfect team to fly headlong into and hope for collapse (or a revved-up guitar soundtrack) (is it so wrong that I once found a LeBron mix soundtracked with Iron Maiden?).

Despite what I've been writing at FanHouse, I don't quite get how players are thinking of these playoffs in terms of this summer. No one needs to be convinced that Wade can prevail, at least game-to-game. Still, 2010 is more than a rat race, it's a pecking order, with LeBron's 2010-ness having become some measure of his absolute power over the league. Not that Wade can nibble away at that, but riding high as the Free Agency babble begins is very much the new pecking order around the league. Like standings or balloting ever matter; there all we ever hear about is the winner. Not so with 2010. The whole world is watching and Wade is certainly looking to gain a little on LeBron. The question, though: What happens to this hierarchy once 2010 is over?



4. Bobcats WTF--I really, really need some help on this one. It's almost like when you go to a mental hospital in the fifties (okay, I'm imagining Shutter Island), and everyone's sweeping floors and playing Risk!, and then all of a sudden there's a disturbance and things really jump off. Is Larry Brown the warden? Wait, how is he not—I'm sorry to repeat myself so often on this count—the Bad News Bears coach? (Billy Bob version, motherfuckers . . . if I go down that path, I go down it all alone.)

Stephen Jackson, Gerald Wallace, Tyrus Thomas, Boris Diaw, Tyson Chandler, even Raymond Felton . . . it's like karmic revenge for the Believe! Warriors. If you let me coach this team I would discover Atlantis and burn down a subway. But no one's even suggesting that this team is scrappy, or violent, or even miscreants floating out on a boat somewhere (love that movie Strange Cargo!). For God's sake, didn't Stephen Jackson decree himself a pirate at some point?

5. Please let the Derrick Rose backlash begin now. Please bring back that psychedelic karaoke Luol Deng.

6. In the immortal words of J.E. Skeets, WHAT DO YOU THINK!??!!?!??!?

Invites for Frost

I don't like what I'm hearing. Not from LeBron, who has boldly asserted that he could win the scoring title every year, but from the rest of us. No, it's not the case that any other player could top LeBron if both gunned all-out, Gervin/Thompson-style, each day of the night. You know why? Because unlike Durant or Melo, James has way more at his disposal. He could work the post, or just run up the court and through all defenders on every possession. Yes, it was a matter-of-fact statement, calm and hardly with the lurch of a braggart. At the same time, LeBron is differentiating himself from his peers. Hey, everybody, he has untapped potential still. He knows it, and if he totally broke out of a team system to go for numbers—which, incidentally, he is less likely to do than anyone on this short-list—amazing thing would happen. We used to know it, and now he's slipping it in himself. Going after him for it seems a waste of time, but at the same time, there is something chilling about this off-hand press release. Forget at your own peril.

I am about to say two things involving NBC's Pro Basketball Talk, both of which involve folks I consider e-pals. So no one think this is a mix-tape war. Kurt lead the "is this news?" charge on the LeBron front; to him, I say yes and no. In what order, I'm not sure. No, in that we should knew, but yes, in that he reminds us? Or yes, in that it he reminds us (and himself) what's still buried inside him, and no, after that it's a no-brainer. Let's move on. Krolik, whom some of you may remember from his contributions to this site, took poor Monta Ellis to task the same day for calling himself the third-best player in the league. First, I would like to thank John for bringing to my attention Rolling Stone's embrace of Durant. Of course, it all makes sense—KD, and the Thunder in general, are the most indie rock-friendly team in the league. They even took that from the Sonics' storied past. El ouch. As for the meat of the story, look, shouldn't Ellis be ignored even more forcefully than James? Let him have his fun. If you think he's the problem with the Warriors, you must have an undue amount of faith in the D-League.

Ellis isn't perfect, and his career is at loggerheads. But if an obviously talented, frustrated, and aimless still-young guard on a team built out of nonsense brags to a generally indifferent media, is he really going to war? Not to neglect my role as a member of the media, but come on, let's give Ellis a break. At least until we're all convinced that he's being given a chance to screw up convincingly. Neither his non "right way" play (either caps or quotations all the time, I thought), nor his inflated ego are tethered to reality. I don't know, maybe I'm underestimating all these call-ups. But this is a man floating through trauma. Do we really want to hold him accountable in the same way—even less so, maybe—than the game's best player? Ellis may deserve more grief than James, and is certainly empirically wrong in a slew of ways, but it's only LeBron James whose words have any meaning past the narrow context of "punk spews crap" headline.

Oh, and Amare hates T-Mac. Pass it on.

Stop, Listen, and Ears

Dan is joined by Ken, who was first on an old computer and then on an old phone. Ken says he used to have good equipment, but that his dog ate it.



Anyway, they still managed to get in a good discussion of the Bucks playing defense, Brandon Jennings playing point guard, the Thunder playing defense, the Knicks playing decently, Nate Robinson playing, John Wall playing incredibly, the poor play in the Kentucky-Louisville game, and Gilbert playing with guns.

No playing!

Songs from the episode:

"Brand New Day" - Dizzee Rascal
"Great Expectations" - The New Year
"Tron Man Speaks" - Antipop Consortium
"It Ain't Nuthin' (The Chapter Remix)" - MF Doom
"Freaks in Charge" - Superchunk

Hey! You! Subscribe via iTunes!

The Meal of the Wicked

March 10, 1976: Colonel at Spurs, Gilmore and Gervin, through my brain right now.

The only good thing about having a fever for days is that after a point, you stop being exhausted and end up floating and all creative-like. I have so many things to add to the book today, and also wrote a 1200 word opus on why, indeed, small forwards matter for The Baseline. It could've easily appeared here, but it happened there. Check it out.

Also, don't forget to check out the last days of the Bill Simmons Book Club. The heat hath really been brought in the second round, and I kind of wish we could drop Simmons and just form a basketball-and-culture blog with this roster of writers. I know, keep dreaming.

My Icing for a Cake

First, the podcast:



Dan sat down (enter the virtual sitting space?) with Kelly Dwyer, who needs no introduction. He also once penned (meta-finger carved?) this beyond-the-moon classic of an FD guest post. They discuss Kelly's hustle, his m.o., and naturally, the Bucks, the new official team of the podcast. Here is the most fair, honest, and useful assessment of Skiles as a coach you will ever get. Good stuff on what's missing from the Thunder this season.

Songs from the episode:

“I Like Everything About You” - Jimmy Hughes
“I Want to Take You Higher” - Sly and the Family Stone
“Eye Know” - De La Soul
“Heavy Makes You Happy” - The Staple Singers

-In other news, I have another Iverson column—longer than the last, making a case for him and the Knicks that a lot of people will hate.

-For discussion at a later date: Everyone reading knows of my single-minded devotion to the Hughes/Arenas back court of yore, or my belief that Mo/Delonte is a poor man's version of that. But what about this year's mounting trend of playing two "pure" PGs at once? Dallas, Milwaukee, Denver, Portland, Atlanta ... maybe David Kahn wasn't so crazy after all. I have no idea, are Sessions and Flynn sharing the court at all? Just wait till Rubio shows up!

As We Glide Upon Long Isles of the Night

Bethlehem Shoals: Okay, so let's set the stage. I wrote that provocative LBJ post only out of enthusiasm for this Warriors/Thunder game. Ziller announced through a major media conglomerate that this was our new talisman. Ty Keenan missed out on free tickets because he was busy mulling over my offer to chat this. And he, like Dr. LIC, were hungry. We certainly did "Let's do this," and here are the results.

BS: Local League Pass feeds are the last bastion of true regionalism.
Ty Keenan: Oh let me put the game on. I was watching Hitman.
Dr. Lawyer IndianChief: I'm watching this on mute.
BS: They've already said "fun" 6,000 times. SETTING THE STAGE.
Dr. LIC: Okay, turning the volume on.

BS: Fuck it, Anthony Randolph is the new Amir.
TK: That hadn't been decided yet?

Dr. LIC: Damn...Sabonis was NOT a Euro.
BS: Sabonis and Drazen, too.
Dr. LIC: Drazen gets real respect. So far I'm not convinced that Spaniards are real Euros either.
BS: Spanairds are a bad influence on basketball, and I mean that in the best way possible

Dr. LIC: My friend Paul just texted me: "What flag is on S-Jax's headband?" I'm guessing Jolly Roger.
TK: POW/MIA.
Dr. LIC: Oh wait, he was asking about the FD shirt.
BS What if Wade starts a trend with that giant face Band-Aid?
Dr. LIC: He stole that from Penny.

BS: I love that kids in the Bay have no choice but to root for Stephen Jackson.
TK: Why don't any of those kids like Monta? He should have a Dora the Explorer-type cartoon.
BS: The reason why Monta and Randolph should be together forever is that one looks like a bigger version of the other.
TK: The difference is that Monta looks like the happy baby and Randolph looks like the one who had colic.
BS: The other reason Odom likes Randolph is that AR's expressions are even more pained.



Dr. LIC: This whole Thunder coaching situation proved that everyone is wrong about everything. P.J. was hailed as the next Popovich; He couldn't even figure out what KD and Jeff Green's positions were.
BS: I thought he was brought in to sabotage the team. Under the pretense of being "a good coach for young players" which for some reason means yelling, not being imaginative and figuring shit out.
BS: Is Durant so skinny that his bones make a noise when he hits the ground?
TK: I definitely heard a noise.
TK: Monta's getting there.
BS: Monta has more first steps in any path across the court than any player in the league.
BS: Did Marco get tanner while he was injured?
TK: I think a little. It's been really dreary here over that period, too.
BS: I'm implying that he went out of town to tan.
TK: He might have a machine.

BS: There's Thabo!
Dr. LIC: This game is delivering.
BS: I just realized it's 33-26 with lots of time left in the first.
TK: It feels like it's only been five minutes or so
BS: Maggette is the most most Duke-like un-Duke Duke player in the world.
Dr. LIC: True.
TK: Jason Williams might have given Maggette a run for that though
BS: Crawford is like that guy who tries to find the most fucked up people in a bar as an excuse to get trashed

BS: 1) Warriors broadcast shows more replays of opposing team than any other local feed. 2) They once made a Derrick Rose dunk the dunk of the game (I think, TK can confirm this) and 3) They are as obsessed with monitoring Monta's explosiveness comeback as I ever was with Amare.
TK: #2 is definitely true. I think part of those might have to do with the fact that they were bad for so long. And they've had the same announcers for basically the last 10 years and the same color guy for longer. They've always had to make an effort to find something interesting to talk about the game.
BS: I am supposed to mention that I am not live-blogging these nachos
TK: I might want to write about FD college players at some point, because Weaver was totally FD in college but is boring as hell now. Or maybe I'm just not excited by him because he was so cool in college.
BS: (I am chatting with Nate Jones, and trying to explain to A. that I guess I would be cool with her going on a date with Tyson Chandler) I like Weaver. He's what Earl Watson should be.



TK: One thing Monta hasn't really figured out yet is the spin on his crazy finishes.
BS: This game is like floating through heaven: "Oh look, Anthony Morrow's first-born. Now how about an off-the-backboard 'oop, with the announcers intoning that "you knew someone was going to bring it out sometime." Also, Kevin Pelton and I have concluded just now that, if Chandler had gone to the Thunder, they could've fielded the longest line-up ever (Westbrook/Weaver/Durant/Thabo/Chandler).
TK: Green wouldn't be in that lineup?
BS: "Length" wasn't invented until 1992, so no.
> TK: wait, what does 92 have to do with it?
BS: I guarantee you both teams were up for this. I'm fairly certain it's known around the league that playing either of these two team is a rush. Oh, and if Jeff Green gets 20 boards, my foot will cave in. Wait, did the announcer just imply that Krstic sews his own jersey?

BS: What if the Thunder don't really play in Oklahoma City? Like they're on a soundstage in Hollywood that Bennett owns, and the players are all cool staying with the team beacuse it's really Los Angeles life?
TK: I've been exchanging emails with the guy at Run of Play. And he said his dad works next to the practice facility. Mentioned that he gets updates on the cars in the parking lot, but nothing on the players. So it's possible that they stage practices.
BS So anyway, the NBA is going to promote the fuck out of the Thunder starting next year because this team has such star power and is so fun. And none of them leave because it's really LA. Plus all the "fans" are extras, professional ones, waiting in line to audition for Eastbound and Down.

BS: This tableux of over-amped kids is really weird, even grotesque. It's like Rookie/Soph all over again. Maybe Kevin Durant plays his best in front of delirious seven year-olds.
TK: This is sorta like a baseball broadcast. Wait, did the Thunder just let Randolph dunk?
BS: His brand-new reputation precedes him. It's really weird how much he's changed his game recently. It's like a coach actually said something to him in English.
TK: Or Martian, in this case.
BS: Maybe Monta has to translate.



(Half of halftime)

BS A. just asked if she could go on a date with Chris Paul. I said sure. She said "actually, he'd probably make me build a fucking house."
BS Totally subjective: When they show Garnett's championship celebration,wtih some of that sad/surreal/dreamlike Adidas music under him, it kind of makes it make sense to me.
Dr. LIC: Eh
BS: Whatever, advertising rules my mind. Seriously though, it tugs at my KG heartstrings. It even makes that entire Celtics season have some pathos to it. Though maybe that's just because it's not front in front of me pissing me off.
Dr. LIC: That commercial is still wack. KG getting injured tugs at my KG heartstrings.
BS: I'm just a sucker for that music. Need i remind you of a certain KG ad?
Dr. LIC: The stand up comedian!!!
BS: TEARS IN HEAVEN
Dr. LIC: There hasn't been a commercial that important since.
BS: For you/me/us or the NBA as a whole? I'd argue "The LeBrons" was more important.
Dr. LIC: Culturally, but not for us. Man, I still can't believe that one Durant commercial had Buck65 music.

Dr. LIC: These "NBA Cares" commercials have officially reached the point of suspicious.
BS: Elaborate. . .
Dr. LIC: Like, you musta done something wrong to have to brag so much about doing good.
BS: Derek Fisher?
TK: Especially Derek Fisher.
Dr. LIC: With the MLB, it's just accepted that they "care."
TK: Is that true?
BS: Like it's not a matter of action? It's a state?
TK: I'm not sure anyone thinks MLB is morally good anymore. They could probably use their own version of those ads.
BS: I think steroids are an entirely other world of morality. Like the way people don't understand how bills get written in Congress. Wait, that's a bad analogy. Whatever, it's a series of parallel moral concerns.
Dr. LIC Modern problems vs. Old Testament sins. That's steroids vs. NBA issues.
Dr. LIC: (Alvin Gentry is secretly coaching the whole league right now)
BS: Okay, I've got this. MLB=Sharia. Please, neither of you be singing a West Side Story tune right now. Though I've got to admit, it's kind of a hot name for a lady.

Dr. LIC: The Warriors have stockpiled enough players. They have to make a big trade for an A-gamer this off-season, or else they'll be the Jerry West Grizzlies.
TK: Every contract is really long, though.
BS: I think you are greatly underestimating how much the Warriors resemble a guerilla movement. Do they move ahead by forming coalition with center-left parties?
Dr. LIC: South Africa?
BS: Let's just drop this. I went to a talk by an ex-Tamil Tiger the other night and that stuff's been on my mind, but I obviously don't know enough about the actual facts.
Dr. LIC: Kyle Weaver, Carl Landry, Kyle Lowry are all the same person to me.
BS: You cannot fool Jamal Crawford with ballhandling. He may not be a great defender, but that other thing's a point of pride for him.



TK: I almost feel like they're making up the score.
BS: Like, adjusted for their having scored too much? Or inventing it for the sake of having to have something?
TK: No, fabricating
BS: That's how I feel about soccer. Also—another dilletante alert—I read today that in Saudi Arabia all budget and data and prices are just made up
when they need them for major deals, projects, etc.
Dr. LIC: Wow
BS: Westbrook is out Monta-ing Monta.
TK: I just want to say that i'm incredibly proud of being right about Westbrook.
Dr. LIC: Me too.
BS: I liked Bayless better, just to be contrary.

TK: That was the greatest broadcaster question ever: "When you're flying in for an awesome fingerroll, how do you know not to use glass? Tell all the youngsters out there."

Dr. LIC: Okay, hear me out on this... in the NFL, too many quarterbacks were getting hurt. So they changed the rules—wussified them, really—so QBs get more protection. And even though they still get busted up (Brady), it seems to have worked somewhat. I think the NBA should do the same with foul rules inside. You've got Amare, KG, Al Jefferson [and Bynum] dying at crucial junctures. Like, start making fines inside a fineable offense. We get higher scores (Gentry style) and less injured bigs.
BS: You are really broken up over this.
Dr. LIC: Dude, KG. Amare. Al Jeff. This fucking SUCKS. That shouldn't hapen.
BS: The problem is that players like Kenny Thomas still exist. Nick Collison, etc.

BS: "Anthony Randolph possibly hit a chair" has weird echoes of "Luke Ridnour couldn't guard a chair."
TK: I think if you said that out of context people would think he got in a fight with a chair.
BS: Anthony Randolph is "special" in so many senses. And no, i'm not calling him retarded.
BS: Maybe Odom said that quote about Randolph's bright future to finally deflect attention away from his own potential. He wanted them to shut up about how HE could've been the next Magic.
Dr. LIC: Stretch run here.
BS: This game is making me think I don't know anything about basketball. Oh and another very Duke thing about Maggette: never seemed interested in leading the league in scoring from a bad team, even though he possibly could've (which no one else from Duke, save Hill, ever could've).

BS: Wait, is Jackson keeping Durant from going off?
TK: He's still 8/13. I'm not sure why he was out for so much of the third.
BS: That's what I love about Durant, even his quiet games are All-Star-ish. As opposed to guy who struggle to get good numbers on off-nights, and thus are impossible to ignore.
Dr. LIC: Durant is truly the quiet assassin. He really is like when people say "he has no conscience."
TK: This is making me imagine him as the insane person in a gothic novel.
BS: I am sure Kobe would be jealous of that remark. Okay, quick, someone come up with a Manchurian Candidate-inspired nickname for KD. Actually, that would be a dope ad.



BS: Durant is a scoring machine. I never really understood that cliche until seeing him this season.
Dr. LIC He really should be drawing double-teams, though. Maybe that's just Nellie's stupidity.
TK: Is anyone doing it? I could see people not wanting to acknowledge that he's already as good as he is.
BS: Who would you leave open? This team isn't THAT bad.
Dr. LIC: See, that's what I'm saying. The Thunder should be much better. The move to Oklahoma made them think they were an expansion team.
BS: Rebuildng from scratch makes anyone think they're an expansion. It's the great equalizer.
TK: What's their record since P.J. left?
BS: I'd do record since 1/1, since that's when Durant really started going crazy.
Dr. LIC: 12-30 since P.J. left
TK: 9-13 since 1/1, going into tonight.
BS: In the West, no less.

Dr. LIC: Watson is the most Blaxploitation last name ever.
BS: Like Matt Watson? Watson like Sherlock Holmes's sidekick?
Dr. LIC: C.J.
TK: Earl, too.
BS C.J. and Earl Watson are two of the least Blaxploitation players in the league.
TK: James Watson definitely wouldn't like to hear that he has a Blaxploitation name.
Dr. LIC: The name is part "Watts," part "son."
BS: I like to pretend that Azubulke works in finance.
Dr. LIC: Kelenna Azubanky.
BS: Ugh. I'm embarrassed.

BS: "He's never going to go away." That's our next Stephen Jackson shirt right there.
BS Someone should do shirts [huh?] about stat inflation. And see what teams inflate the "right" players, versus those that random players have the biggest games against.
Dr. LIC: The Timberwolves.
BS: You're right, it probably has nothing to do with tempo.
BS: Wow, that was truly Odom-esque of Randolph. Forgetting he'd dribbled.

It's Anyone's Pattern

For starters, there's something cosmic about the Chandler-to-OKC trade. The Hornets hadn't quite had it this season, and I hate Byron Scott. Squelching Julian Wright is foolish. And now this, delivering a big man recently considered Olympic-ish material into the mitts of the most FD team since the '06-07 Warriors. If the word "FD" still means anything, or remotely the same thing, in this very different league we live in. So go ahead and type it with me, because I know you've been saying it in your head since yesterday:Kevin&Jeff&Russell&Tyson&Blake. That, my friends, is a monster.

However, as much as I'd (prophetically?) been down on New Orleans, you can't like what this says about the direction the league is headed. I already did a TSB post on it, coming to the conclusion that we're headed toward baseball. Combine that with the Morey/Battier revelations, and this week we're practically staring down the barrel of the future of front offices.

First, you've got the Thunder, a bandwagon you need to be finding if you haven't tracked it down already. All the payroll went to heaven, causing much controversy and embarrassment, or was of the walking corpse variety—save for the rookie contracts belonging to the team's nucleus. And now, even if Chandler improves them greatly, OKC's most likely landing a choice lottery pick. A once-in-a-generation phenom—LeBron is the exception that proves everything, which is why Durant can still be once-in-a-generation—combined with very astute use of high picks, and one big contract stolen off of team's not blessed with such meager payroll. Will this last? No. Does it take a mastermind to pull off? Probably. Does that mean, in the wartorn economic future of the NBA, it's not a viable model? Only if there's a cheaper alternative that promises such a strong chance of competing. Blow the team up before it takes your hand with you, then start all over again. It's not nihilistic, it's living each second like it's your last, and having the balls to believe your front office can repeat the process every five years.



The Hornets now become the consummate underdog, handicapped by forces beyond their control but expected. One superstar, surrounded by passable role players and guided by a coach determined to make up the difference. If that sounds like the 2000-01 Sixers, congraulations. They went to the Finals, and so we can imagine the post-Chandler Hornets making a similarly inspirational push—provided they change coaches in the off-season. That's when you end up with a peculiar merger of "this is a league of stars" with "this is a league of coaches," where these proclamations apply only to the most elite, who in secret compacts join forces to overcome the system's strictures. That's the real lesson of those Sixers—that when you have a single-minded MVP and a stubborn coach with a fully-formed basketball worldview, it's hard to tell exactly who is establishment, which means they must both be out in the cold, tossing flaming bottles at something else.

You're right, I've skimped on baseball comparisons, because I can't always make them. But I do know that, if Morey's research comes to anything, you could find another model in which incomplete or flawed players are brought together to complete each other. Not the flawed or incomplete the FD book so concerns itself with—not towering figures with great, bleeding holes in their sides. Instead, a team of guys who are at once, like Battier, useful and detrimental, but without any hierarchy. Such that no single individual, or his flaws, can overwhelm the balance of the whole. It's often said that D'Antoni's ideal team is comprised of 6'9" guys who can shoot, run, and pass. The Knicks may be one of the few teams that can do this, because as other teams look for efficient and affordable models, free agents will increasingly accumulate in one place willing to pay them an above average salary. Morey, though, could make due with a team of Battiers, provided one had just a little bit more scoring ability in place of a little less rebounding. But not too much. A team of multi-purpose yeoman immune to all yearning and glory, one that might eventually swallow up the likes of Marion and Odom.

Will we ever see this come to pass? That depends on how long the economic crisis lingers in basketball. Certainly, though, if teams suffer a major hit this year and the next, and the summer of 2010 finds the large market teams cashing in (sorry for the mixed, if not oppositional, metaphor), we might see contracts signed that extend a relatively brief window of disaster across the foreseeable. Who knows what will be discovered, or what will pan out? Front office philosophies could find themselves twisted into a grimace that, over time, becomes a sign of worldliness and thought most deep.

An Unofficial Guide to Guides

This began as a post about how awesome I was for making a point of watching Cavs/Warriors, and the difficulty of figuring out what to view on any given night. Then I realized that it didn't take a genius to pick that game, so instead I'm going to write about what I learned from Monta Ellis. But first, a few words about the Nuggets.

I always thought that Melo was the force that somehow legitimated Iverson, and all the other miscreants on that squad. That might have been wishful thinking, or aiming too low.

Reader Dave F. recently asked me whether it's possible for a team to made more FD by a decidedly un-FD player, a more traditional guy who serves as the organizing principle. He mentioned Yao, and it's true, under Adelman Yao has at times shown himself capable of both taking part in a more complex offense and holding down the paint. The real test case, though, is Billups. We all know Chauncey used to be a hoot when on Minnesota, and isn't exactly the purest point in the galaxy. But his sense of economy and control do have a conservative streak to them; Nash, Paul, Rose, or Baron are more creative and unpredictable, even if they're closer to the positional archetype. In fact, you could that the ideal PG is supposed to introduce an element of instability to throw off opponents, while themselves maintaining a new-found grasp of this discovery. It's a dualism that explains why today, the league's premier playmakers often find themselves on fast, inventive team—and why all my favorite teams have, or badly need, such a player.



Billups, then, is neither too much nor too little of a point guard, and as such is the perfect equilibrium for a Denver team made up of various forms of excess and lack. His job isn't to encourage K-Mart, J.R., and Nene, but in effect, manage them. Neither dashing "floor general" nor feckless "game manager," Billups is entrusted with turning craziness into a useful commodity, ordering and meting it out so that players are compartmentalized without being squelched. Maybe that makes him a lion-tamer, or the guy in charge of The Wild Bunch. Denver may not have the least conventional roster in the league, but it's certainly the most streaky and combustible. Billups can juggle these pieces (one of which is George Karl, natch) through a combination of equanimity and pragmatism. I will punch you if anyone makes an Obama analogy here.

This isn't as simple as saying "Chauncey Billups runs the offense." He's the star in the middle of the solar system that holds everything else in its stable orbit. And here, we stumble into quite the equivocation, since by conventional measure, Melo is the "star" of that team, and Billups's predecessor, AI, certainly had more star power. But taken literally, the primary function of a star is to provide gravity, cohesion. That can be in the form of leadership, or the more concrete work of Billups I've described. I would say that Iverson was always a bigger star league-wide during his time on Denver than he was on his own team. This might be where stardom ceases to be frivolous, and begins to overlap with terms like "value," and the debates everyone's been having about what makes an All-Star. I think it goes without saying, though, that Billups seems more impressive in this capacity, harnessing the forces of darkness, than at any point in his storied Detroit career. Denver needs him to make sense, but he needs Denver to exhibit just compatible, and essential, he can be to a team.



That's because the Pistons were, depending on how you look at it, starless—big planets all floating in a row—or a team of minor stars who didn't care for stragglers. I'm not offering a critique of how Detroit played, more that attitude that earned them so much praise, and yet some always hankering to see them add an uber-component. For instance, as much as I loved this year's Warriors as a scraggly band of freedom fighters hanging out in Oakland and giving other teams nightmares whose ultimate result was mere annoyance, they were most definitely starless, even if Jackson, Crawford and Maggette are prone to the kind of play (and numbers) associated with taking charge and holding things together. I've always found it admirable that Jackson, despite being the captain and arguably that team's Shawn Marion (wholly original piece that dictates the overall structure, even as the PG shapes it from second-to-second), never seemed particularly interested in stardom. Say what you will about S-Jax, but the man is smart about basketball, right down to the way he balances the ethic that made him beloved as a Spur with the inner crazy encouraged by Nellie ball.

And so we finally arrive at Monta's return. That the first game of the year for a player with one good season under his belt, who might be the best player on one of the league's worst teams, seemed like an event should tell you something about Ellis. Well, adjust that for my personal biases, but certainly Ellis has the capacity to captivate and punctuate like no one else on the Warriors. Basketball-wise, Monta's just adding another scorer whose can handle the ball a little. He's not that much better than Crawford. But when he's on the floor with the Warriors, that team suddenly has a sense of purpose. He's not hands-on like Billups, nor is he as vocal as Jackson. And yet all of a sudden, the Warriors have an identity. They're no longer a subversive mess, as likely to undo themselves as to irritate others. They're that same rag-tag people's army, but with a charismatic punch that allows them to believe in themselves. It's a swag-laden way of leading by example. Call it the reverse Ewing theory—a team lacking inner logic for whom a seemingly pointless star is the only way to justify themselves. It's also the best possible explanation for why the Wizards need Arenas, and maybe why the Warriors pursued him this off-season.



Rather than write an actual conclusion—no way it needs to get any more abstract and high-flown—I'd like to say a few words about the Oklahoma City Thunder. I know that as a resident of Seattle, I should hate this team. Then again, I refuse to hate David Stern, who is far more to blame than, say, Kevin Durant. But along with Denver, LeBron with a healthy team, and presumably now Golden State, they're one of the only squads I can now reliably count on to be entertaining. Yes, Durant's maturation, Westbrook's crash-and-burn progress, and Jeff Green Jeff Green-ing his way to Jeff Green-ness are all rad. However, it's the packaging, the location, and the irrepressible obscurity around them that makes them so compelling. This is an NBA team that, for all intents and purposes, might as well not exist. They play in a city that matters only to the people who live there. Their uniforms are unrelentingly generic, like the plain white can, black type BEER they sell some places. The name of the team seems like a placeholder, unless you bother to acquaint yourself with life in Oklahoma. I kind of admire Clay Bennett for crafting such an utterly blank brand, so strong is his faith in OKC's appetite for NBA ball, plain and simple.

The more this team grows, the more all this seems mysterious, sneaky, or hermetic, rather than simply laughable. When I sleep, I dream of makng a shirt that puts Durant on the cover of Everybody Knows This is Nowhere, and I even think the music serves as a decent soundtrack. By contrast, Hawks/Bobcats were red carpet regulars. This team is living in caves, stockpiling arms, camping out on the Big Love compound. I don't know what their purpose is, but the bare bones image and total lack of exposure makes them seem so much more severe, even unsettling, than if they had a cartoon horse on their unis. Durant's good enough now to reclaim that "assassin" epithet; on this team, it's as haunting as it should be. They may practice an hour's drive from any number of campy militias, but mark my words, the Thunder will be the first NBA team to catch on with Waziristan hobbyists.

Hole or Pile

First off, Ziller has suggested that Thunder/Grizz is the new Bobcats/Hawks, and I'm inclined to agree. I feel like a turncoat for saying this, but as Dr. LIC noted a few weeks back, the Thunder are rad and lose a ton of games. Perfect! And they're about the most god-foresaken outpost of NBA basketball available. The game with Cleveland yesterday was bound to end as it did, but certainly felt like a battle. Westbrook's the wild card, Durant the edgy craftsman, Jeff Green has become Jeff Green. Combine those with a high pick, and Presti might not built another Spurs, but a team with serious mind control powers. Now let's see what he does with a coach, or when Ibaka comes over.

And now, to address something fairly stupid from the comments section, or to wit, something I should've brought up a while ago. In case you hadn't heard, Gerald Wallace lost his faher and grandfather in the last two weeks, and has been caught up in a whirlwind of grieving, driving around the Deep South to attend funerals, missing a few games, and surfacing periodically to absolutely destroy whoever happens to be playing the Bobcats that night. This was contrasted with Josh Howard's collapse, which some have attributed in part to a death in the family. The implication being, in fairly typical sports terms, that Wallace was a man and Howard a fragile piece of cunt. You could also argue that McGrady's personal history, while more dire than Howard's, also fails to display this same stoicism, or ability to use tragedy as motivation. In fact, working against the likes of McGrady and Howard is the cliche, discussed in the book, of sport-as-salvation or escape.



I still believe what I put down in print about how hard it is to separate T-Mac's on-court woes from what's he dealt with away from it, to the point that he seems haunted everywhere. But this isn't some third option, after Wallace's play (either clinging to normalcy, comfort, or taking out the pain on someone) or Howard's inability to deal. I think it's pretty obvious that, just as each death brings with it a completely unique range of emotions—based on the timing, the relationship with the deceased, and the personality of the survivor—the way athletes view sports in times of crisis is just as varied. I know that, the more times "sports" figure in a sentence, the more we expected pre-programmed, cliched, or robotic. Sports is there, and the closer one gets to it, the more he's forced to get in line and choose from a handful of time-honored storylines. Really though, given the range of emotions that go into playing a game, and how much those vary from person to person, why would that element of the equation be any more stable than the loss of a loved one?

If you think basketball is just another job, then fine. Players can either take time away, return immediately and feel better for it, or be noticeably off for months. Or we can see each of these very human instances as a chance to learn something not only about how these people deal with death, but also how they view the game. To be sure, it's a complex, sometimes contradictory, interaction. But it's far more honest than pretending that everyone feels the same way about basketball, a job that inspires great high and lows, deals in huge swaths of stress and release, and couldn't possibly inspire a set number of reactions—especially when intertwined with something as personal as death.

M.P. Levine!!!!!!!!!!

No one on the planet can say "Russell Westbrook" four times in a row. Fast or slow. It's the secret to his game, too.

Back more regularly in the next few days. . .

Lost Wonder

As usual, Ziller beat me to it, in officially blogging a sigh of relief that Kevin Durant has been moved to Small Forward. Gee, ya think? This was something I pined for back in the beginning of the season and something you would think wouldn't take this long to figure out. Gee, PJ, do you think one of the best freshman forwards in college history should be forced to play two-guard? Hell no.

The bottom line is that the Thunder already look and feel better under Scotty Brooks, who I must namedrop, as one of the few NBA guys I actually made friends with during my few years working for the Timberwolves. When I was 11 years old and working my first game, Brooks hit me with a $20 bill and actually chatted with me -- I felt a connection with him ever since that point. He was one of the true nice guys in the league, and also was a tough little bastard -- someone that Barkley would go to war for in their Sixers days and someone who played some key stretches during the Rockets' mid-90s title runs. Brooks has been city-hopping for a while, and may in fact be the next great coach. He provides the toughness of Scott Skiles, but also knows when to loosen his grip. Quoth Durant (again via Ziller):

"Not taking anything away from P.J., he wanted the best out of us," said Durant. "But Scott did a great job of giving us a little bit of room for error. Once we messed up he just told us what we needed to do better and told us that play was over. I think that kind of made us feel a little better. We just got to continue to build on it."



I can't think of a better situation for Brooks as a first-time coach, and for these Thunder players. Plus, when Brooks took over, they actually played like they were going to win a game, and because I fell asleep for the last two minutes of the Thunder/Suns game last night, I'm going to pretend they did. I could see an extreme sense of levity and comfort amongst these guys. And at very least I have seen in Westbrook and Durant, a potential small-big power-duo that by midseason will be competitive with D-Williams/Boozer, Nash/Amare, and Chris Paul/David West as far as these duos go. Not to mention next year, when Westbrook establishes himself as the official Deron Williams to Derrick Rose's CP3. Westbrook just has insane Dwyane-Wade-like upside and is fast becoming my favorite player in the league.

Now if the Thunder could only dump their supporting cast for better three-point shooters, we would have a serious team on our hands. Westbrook can get in the lane with the best of them, and Durant is JUST STARTING HIS CAREER NOW. In an email to Shoals and the Recluse last night, I officially proclaimed him "freed." Screw Glenn Robinson and Shareef Abdur-Rahim. This is the bizarro-KG-Dirk-assassin that we all were watching at Texas. It will take a year still for that player to emerge, but I could finally see the remnants last night, beginning to be reassembled.