Monday, April 27, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
New Look Celtics
I was talking to a guy I'd never met before and he said of the Celtics after the game 3 demolition of the Bulls that he thought the Celtics "had their swagger back." I knew what he meant, nodded my head and agreed, made sure he realized Chauncey is the shit, and realized I had to get back to work.
However, I've come to the conclusion that the Celtics haven't so much gotten their swagger back as that they've carved out a new, certainly less dominant, almost pathetic swagger. Without KG, the offense is run almost exclusively through Rondo, whom the Bulls can't find an answer for (give D. Rose a few years). This has been written about to a certain extent, although I feel like the affore-linked link is somehow too theoretical a conception of Rondo. In Doc's post-KG offense, Rondo takes the ball to the basket as hard as he can nearly every possession and something usually good happens for the Celtics - Rondo scores, draws the foul, finds the open man (I'll admit he's a much better passer than I originally thought) - however, frequently, it seems, (especially in game 2) Rondo would get his shot blocked (especially by Tyrus Thomas), or he would miss the shot and fortunately someone like Big Baby or Kendrick Perkins would be in great position to get an offensive rebound and putback. Now you gotta give credit to Big Baby and Perk for running the floor, but I think a lot of Boston's success with their Rondo-inspired offense is in large part due to Chicago's weakness at defending it. In a lot of ways Rondo seems like a shot blocker's dream in that he doesn't really seem to give a shit in transition, 1 on 2, 1 on 3, 1 on 4 he's going to take it to the basket. (Do they keep track of how many shots a players gets blocked in a game?) I feel like against a more defensively cohesive team (Cavs) the Rondo Celtics have no chance.
Maybe this is another iteration of the argument that transition teams don't win championships, although it's an interesting case study because these Celtics (roughly) did win a championship. However, with KG definitely out they are having to redefine themselves and redefine themselves quickly, and create a new swagger.
I say that this new swagger is almost pathetic because this is a team that was among the favorites to win a ring this year, and now everyone, including themselves, are realizing that they are not. Suddenly, they are super pumped just to be getting out of the first round. Although they might have the Bulls' number, the series, so far, has been a moral defeat for Boston.
ALSO: DID ANYONE SEE A FAN SNATCH BILL WALKER'S HEADBAND AS HE WAS CARRYING RONDO TO THE LOCKER ROOM??? COULDN'T FIND VIDEO, BUT HIS REACTION WAS HILARIOUS.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Western Conference Pipe Dream
Building off the last post, my dream Western Conference Final would be Nuggets vs. Blazers, if for no other reason than Joel Przybilla really wants to fight somebody, and in my dream series, Birdman would be that 'body.
Bad Boy Nugs
Watching the Nuggets/Hornets game last night, I got the impression that somehow the Nuggets are the 'bad guys,' or, at least that they are underrepresented as the good guys that they are/should be. Perhaps this is inevitable when pitted against NBA darling Chris Paul (sorry to be hating on him so hard recently) and the fact that they (the Nuggets) might as well employ a team tattoo artist, but I'm feeling that the NBA and its associated TV networks are really missing a lot of somewhat-cliche'd, television-perfect story lines here.
Do I even need to list them:
1) Nene coming back from nut cancer to play the best basketball of his career. You'd think national television (especially ABC) would be all over this, but there hasn't really been much acknowledgement of Nene's comeback while that bicycle guy made a whole career out of it. Nene should be getting magazine covers, halftime profiles with hospital montages, and spots on Oprah. Maybe people find him alienating because he only has one name...now he only has one ball.
2) Chauncey coming home and putting Denver in a position to actually win a playoff series. I don't think those MVP chants are unwarranted.
2.a) The implementation of a true "team" in Denver with Carmelo effectively harnessing his Carmelo-ness and settling into what I guess I'll call a role. This is as much due to AI leaving as Chauncey coming, I think. Also, Carmelo cut his hair.
3) The Birdman. I realize he's the NBA version of Biff Tannen and that he's got a growing fanbase among the 'ironic' and even the 'post-ironic' NBA fans, but from everything I've read about this guy, he's a straight-up quote machine. He needs more off-the-court camera time, maybe even a reality show. Also, he's pulling a reverse Shawn Kemp while, somehow, becoming more bad-ass.
With all this overcoming-adversity/changing-the-culture/what-have-you, you'd think that the 08-09 Denver Nuggets would be the feel good story of the year, but no, not against CP3 and the tattoo-less, still post-Katrina Hornets.
I think there's a lingering AI cancer effect going on, especially considering the attention paid to the league by its most casual fans. (I wore an old Charlotte Hornets shirt to the laundromat the other day and the owner asked me how they were doing, oblivious of the move to New Orleans.)
That said, relish the bad boy Nugs because it's fun to imagine J.R. Smith playing basketball in 3-D glasses.
Do I even need to list them:
1) Nene coming back from nut cancer to play the best basketball of his career. You'd think national television (especially ABC) would be all over this, but there hasn't really been much acknowledgement of Nene's comeback while that bicycle guy made a whole career out of it. Nene should be getting magazine covers, halftime profiles with hospital montages, and spots on Oprah. Maybe people find him alienating because he only has one name...now he only has one ball.
2) Chauncey coming home and putting Denver in a position to actually win a playoff series. I don't think those MVP chants are unwarranted.
2.a) The implementation of a true "team" in Denver with Carmelo effectively harnessing his Carmelo-ness and settling into what I guess I'll call a role. This is as much due to AI leaving as Chauncey coming, I think. Also, Carmelo cut his hair.
3) The Birdman. I realize he's the NBA version of Biff Tannen and that he's got a growing fanbase among the 'ironic' and even the 'post-ironic' NBA fans, but from everything I've read about this guy, he's a straight-up quote machine. He needs more off-the-court camera time, maybe even a reality show. Also, he's pulling a reverse Shawn Kemp while, somehow, becoming more bad-ass.
With all this overcoming-adversity/changing-the-culture/what-have-you, you'd think that the 08-09 Denver Nuggets would be the feel good story of the year, but no, not against CP3 and the tattoo-less, still post-Katrina Hornets.
I think there's a lingering AI cancer effect going on, especially considering the attention paid to the league by its most casual fans. (I wore an old Charlotte Hornets shirt to the laundromat the other day and the owner asked me how they were doing, oblivious of the move to New Orleans.)
That said, relish the bad boy Nugs because it's fun to imagine J.R. Smith playing basketball in 3-D glasses.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
The Cuckoo Man
From David Halberstam's "The Breaks of the Game:"
"The Cuckoo Man was Jack Nicholson, the movie star, a devoted follower of Laker basketball who had a seat right next to the Laker bench. In the [Portland's] championship season, when Portland had played Los Angeles, Nicholson had thus sat only about three feet away from the last man on the Portland bench who, in this case, happened to be Lloyd Neal, and everything that Nicholson said, every cry praising Kareem or belittling Walton, thundered in the ears of the Portland players. It was as if he had been chosen by the gods to bedevil them. At halftime the Portland players had filed into the dressing room and one of the other players, impressed that so famous and yet now so manic a presence was seated so close to them, asked Ice [Lloyd Neal] if he knew who his neighbor was. No, he said, how? "Jack Nicholson, Ice," someone had answered. "You mean the little fellow, not much hair?" Neal asked. "Yes." "Who's he?" "A movie star. Did a picture One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest." "Oh yeah," said Ice, "I know who he is, that guy." The others were not so sure whether Neal had seen the movie or not, they could never tell about Ice, whether he was smarter than they thought but playing dumb, or dumber than they thought but playing smart. In the second half Nicholson had kept up his cheering, loud, partisan, a noise which fell relentlessly upon the Portland bench. Then, late in the game, at a crucial moment, the game hanging in the balance, the Lakers had made a run and Kareem had gone out for a shot and as he did, Walton had gone up too and he had blocked it, and ever as Walton reached the apex of his jump, his hand outstretched, the entire Portland bench had been aware of an even more dramatic moment: Lloyd Neal rising up out of his seat, huge now, intimidating, a great dark-visaged figure pointing a massive and threatening finger in a massive threatening hand at the suddenly tiny Nicholson. The others had watched this tableau, it seemed frozen in time for them, as if to symbolize the team's new invincibility, that they would not be beaten, not by Kareen, not by Los Angeles, not even by rich and celebrated actors, for there was Ice screaming at Nicholson, "Take that, mother-fucking cuckoo!" The moment had become part of the unofficial team history, a symbol of its triumph, and Nicholson, star of Chinatown, Five Easy Pieces, and other great American films, had become simply The Cuckoo Man."
"The Cuckoo Man was Jack Nicholson, the movie star, a devoted follower of Laker basketball who had a seat right next to the Laker bench. In the [Portland's] championship season, when Portland had played Los Angeles, Nicholson had thus sat only about three feet away from the last man on the Portland bench who, in this case, happened to be Lloyd Neal, and everything that Nicholson said, every cry praising Kareem or belittling Walton, thundered in the ears of the Portland players. It was as if he had been chosen by the gods to bedevil them. At halftime the Portland players had filed into the dressing room and one of the other players, impressed that so famous and yet now so manic a presence was seated so close to them, asked Ice [Lloyd Neal] if he knew who his neighbor was. No, he said, how? "Jack Nicholson, Ice," someone had answered. "You mean the little fellow, not much hair?" Neal asked. "Yes." "Who's he?" "A movie star. Did a picture One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest." "Oh yeah," said Ice, "I know who he is, that guy." The others were not so sure whether Neal had seen the movie or not, they could never tell about Ice, whether he was smarter than they thought but playing dumb, or dumber than they thought but playing smart. In the second half Nicholson had kept up his cheering, loud, partisan, a noise which fell relentlessly upon the Portland bench. Then, late in the game, at a crucial moment, the game hanging in the balance, the Lakers had made a run and Kareem had gone out for a shot and as he did, Walton had gone up too and he had blocked it, and ever as Walton reached the apex of his jump, his hand outstretched, the entire Portland bench had been aware of an even more dramatic moment: Lloyd Neal rising up out of his seat, huge now, intimidating, a great dark-visaged figure pointing a massive and threatening finger in a massive threatening hand at the suddenly tiny Nicholson. The others had watched this tableau, it seemed frozen in time for them, as if to symbolize the team's new invincibility, that they would not be beaten, not by Kareen, not by Los Angeles, not even by rich and celebrated actors, for there was Ice screaming at Nicholson, "Take that, mother-fucking cuckoo!" The moment had become part of the unofficial team history, a symbol of its triumph, and Nicholson, star of Chinatown, Five Easy Pieces, and other great American films, had become simply The Cuckoo Man."
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Chris Paul's Zuihitsu
Last Sunday during half time of the Mavericks/Hornets game, CP3 disclosed his T-Mobile Fave 5 current point guards to Magic Johnson in one of those congratulatory Sunday afternoon interviews. They were as follows (in no particular order):
-Steve Nash
-Tony Parker
-Baron Davis
-Jason Kidd
-Deron Williams
Ok, that's all well and good... but something about this list seems off. Maybe I'm reading way too much into this, but I think this list speaks volumes as to just how lame CP can be.
Don't get me wrong, I love the dude on the court - throwing the ball through Jason Terry's legs on the fast break was probably one of my favorite highlights of the year - but could he get any more boring off of it?
The above list, over the past week, to me at least, has somehow come to encapsulate everything that I hate about the non-ballhandling Chris Paul. I mean, really? That's your list? It reads like the 5 current point guards with the most all-star appearances (yeah, I know... D-Will) or the 5 most recognizable point guards in the league. (Although, the selection of Boom Dizzle is actually kinda funny seeing as everyone hates Baron Davis now. In the interview, after revealing BD as one of his selections, CP actually piped up in justification of the pick (he didn't feel the need to justify any of his other picks, though) and said something stupid like "he's got great strength.")
Basically, what I'm trying to say is that if I were at a party and somehow got into a conversation about NBA point guards and asked the other participant in the conversation to list their five favorite current point guards and they came up with that list, I would probably stop talking to them and convince myself that they didn't know anything about basketball.
I also have this conception, maybe wrongly so, that NBA players are the ultimate fans of the game. I mean to get to where they are, and the simple nature of the job, they must watch as much basketball as anyone on the planet. So how can CP3, who I'll ironically call one of the top 5 players in the game today, really come up with the above list having watched and broken down more film than I ever will? I guess one explanation would be that he has absolutely no creative or aesthetic sensibility (otherwise Steve Blake most definitely would have made that list), but it's hard to say that because he exudes so much originality on the court, e.g. throwing the ball through Jason Terry's legs.
Although, in the grand scheme of Chris Paul, the list is completely consistent with his whole on-court/off-court, choir boy/warrior duality... I guess I was just hoping that beyond the boyish facade there was some brooding basketball genius within him. That there was some lingering vestige of the basketball player burning inside him constantly like an eternal flame of CP3. Someone who, like his on-court persona, just saw things that no one else thought to see. Someone who's list would include some player that I never realized was awesome until he named him and then a lightbulb would go off in my head and I would have some revelatory moment and I would think to myself, "My God Chris Paul! You've done it again!"
-Steve Nash
-Tony Parker
-Baron Davis
-Jason Kidd
-Deron Williams
Ok, that's all well and good... but something about this list seems off. Maybe I'm reading way too much into this, but I think this list speaks volumes as to just how lame CP can be.
Don't get me wrong, I love the dude on the court - throwing the ball through Jason Terry's legs on the fast break was probably one of my favorite highlights of the year - but could he get any more boring off of it?
The above list, over the past week, to me at least, has somehow come to encapsulate everything that I hate about the non-ballhandling Chris Paul. I mean, really? That's your list? It reads like the 5 current point guards with the most all-star appearances (yeah, I know... D-Will) or the 5 most recognizable point guards in the league. (Although, the selection of Boom Dizzle is actually kinda funny seeing as everyone hates Baron Davis now. In the interview, after revealing BD as one of his selections, CP actually piped up in justification of the pick (he didn't feel the need to justify any of his other picks, though) and said something stupid like "he's got great strength.")
Basically, what I'm trying to say is that if I were at a party and somehow got into a conversation about NBA point guards and asked the other participant in the conversation to list their five favorite current point guards and they came up with that list, I would probably stop talking to them and convince myself that they didn't know anything about basketball.
I also have this conception, maybe wrongly so, that NBA players are the ultimate fans of the game. I mean to get to where they are, and the simple nature of the job, they must watch as much basketball as anyone on the planet. So how can CP3, who I'll ironically call one of the top 5 players in the game today, really come up with the above list having watched and broken down more film than I ever will? I guess one explanation would be that he has absolutely no creative or aesthetic sensibility (otherwise Steve Blake most definitely would have made that list), but it's hard to say that because he exudes so much originality on the court, e.g. throwing the ball through Jason Terry's legs.
Although, in the grand scheme of Chris Paul, the list is completely consistent with his whole on-court/off-court, choir boy/warrior duality... I guess I was just hoping that beyond the boyish facade there was some brooding basketball genius within him. That there was some lingering vestige of the basketball player burning inside him constantly like an eternal flame of CP3. Someone who, like his on-court persona, just saw things that no one else thought to see. Someone who's list would include some player that I never realized was awesome until he named him and then a lightbulb would go off in my head and I would have some revelatory moment and I would think to myself, "My God Chris Paul! You've done it again!"
Saturday, April 11, 2009
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