A Kinder, Gentler Machine Gun Hand

There seems to be a growing consensus that there's something wrong with the Suns. I don't think the change in perception has anything to do with their record – since, you know, it's the same as last year's at this point – or whether a win over San Antonio makes up for a loss to Minnesota. In fact, I don't think it has anything to do with how successful they've been, but something that Shoals has been fearing for a while now: their game has become infected by orthodoxy.

Some of the perceived dissatisfaction might be the result of jaded disciples of the Run and Gun who feel burned for putting their faith in them to bring legitimacy to the offense first, second, and third systems most of us crave. Worried that the Suns are inadvertently proving the cliche of "defense wins championships" a truism, there is reluctance to re-up the zeal for '08. A large chunk of the blame for the recent negative reaction is probably also owed to Golden State for letting the wheels fall off the wagon entirely last spring. By dropping the "organized" from "organized chaos," the Warriors showed the world what fun the Run and Gun could truly be. They can argue that method underlies it all they want, but the madness is still the prevailing feature, something that cannot be said for Phoenix. Contrasted with the absurdity of Barnes' full court bullets and Jackson's delayed no-looks, the Nash-led break can't help but feel downright traditional.

The Suns' diminished status as the darlings of the NBA goes beyond just them failing to live up to the gold standard set by Golden State. After all, the Warriors at their finest manage to make everyone else in the Association seem stodgy in comparison. The weakened bond between America and the Suns is also attributable to the fact that we're an incredibly fickle bunch, especially now that some of the novelty has begun to wear off. In '05 everyone took notice that, holy crap, Amare eats babies. Then in '06 our interest was sustained by the fact that the machine kept churning almost as impressively even without Stoudemire. Last season, the joy was rekindled as an only slightly less explosive Amare was reintroduced and the offensive onslaught continued. This year, unless you're geeked for the Grant Hill renaissance, 07-08 just sort of feels like a redo of what has come before.

Expecting a rebirth each season is awfully unreasonable, especially considering most teams go years without bothering to shift plotlines, but with some of the newness worn off we can start to make out some of the uglier truths that our initial awe had previously masked. Namely, at his most offensive, D'Antoni is as rigid and systemized as the worst of Right Way offenders that we generally rally against in these parts. His refusal to go beyond his top seven, even in the freaking preseason, because the surplus guys fail to perfectly fit his predefined roles is more miserly than even Larry Brown is capable of.

Yes, well-executed fast breaks and alley oops will almost always be more entertaining than well-run pick-and-rolls, but exciting routines can still become routine. The parade of drive-and-kicks has become predictable and stale this year, with the countless corner 3's feeling eerily reminiscent of San Antonio. Maybe it's profane to suggest, but when you get right down to it, Nash's dribbling just isn't that thrilling. Once you get past the facade of flash, his game relies as much on precision and execution as the Big Fun's. He's probably the only player capable of making a behind-the-back pass seem methodical and cruelly efficient.

Furthermore, the fact that Marion is as uncomfortable under D'Antoni as Kirilenko is under Sloan is extremely telling. Interpret it as a battle of egos among would-be alpha dogs all you want, but to me it looks like unpredictability incarnated aching to be liberated. I'm sure Raja's having a great time enjoying a career that only Mike and Steve could have endowed him with, just as limited players like Bowen are loving life within the extremely limited structures that allow for their success; but for truly versatile gems like Marion, the orthodoxy is suffocating, regardless of the pace at which it presents itself.

I know there is probably rarely any truth to be gleaned from "NBA Live Trax," but I still couldn't help but laugh at D'Antoni's pep talk during a recent halftime. With the Suns looking flat for much of the first half, Mike earnestly urged his troops to "get wild and crazy out there!" as though insanity were a quality you could instill and not something you innately either have or do not. I'm all for embracing identity, but it has to come naturally. The calculatedness of D'Antoni's "organized chaos," right down to the emblematic "7 seconds or less" mantra, ends up feeling far too similar to the "at least four passes before shooting" bullshit that makes most of us cringe.

Perhaps we've unfairly burdened them with the expectation to lead an upheaval that they never had any interest in, but right or wrong, that 04-05 season did give us hope that a free-flowing system could at least shake the walls of the establishment a little. The McCallums of the world did their part to build up the narrative of the Suns as the antidote to structure and control, a plotline I'm sure most will cling to long after reality ceases to reflect the "anything goes" perception that we've tagged them with. Regardless of whether or not they see themselves as a part of the struggle, they will make their mark on it in the end. They've essentially become the reverse of the "fight the system from within" mindset (probably best symbolized by Utah). By trying to do the Run and Gun, but doing it right, D'Antoni's efforts end up doing more harm than good by giving the revolution a bad name.