The Pinoy Invasion

Most of you remember Rafe Bartholomew, who back in February wrote a ferociously awesome post on style in Philippine hoops. Anyway, tomorrow Rafe's honest-to-god book on the subject, Pacific Rims: Beermen Ballin' in Flip-Flops and the Philippines' Unlikely Love Affair with Basketballarrives at stores, or sites, near you. I have lent my good name and most effusive words to the back jacket of Pacific Rims, and I meant every word of it; this is a phenomenal piece of basketball writing that belongs on your nightstand whether or not you even knew the PBA existed, or could care less about the island nation it calls home. Brilliant stuff, and you're remiss as a reader of FD (however occasional) if you don't cop that.

Rafe will be stopping by later in the week with a guest lecture, but until then, be checking his site for updates on his every move, or photos from his time there. I know he's doing something for SLAM Online tomorrow. His previous blog, Manila Vanilla, is chock full of good stuff if you simply can't wait. The above archival was jacked, in a hurry, from MV—here's the story behind it. And really, you need to support this book if you want sports writing with a brain to continue on this planet.

If you miss me at all, check out this thing I wrote yesterday about Kobe, Bron, Wilt, Russell, and man's need to destroy each other.

He Came from the Forest Where the Floor Was in Flames

Been traveling and with family, so a bit behind. Regardless, catch the latest DoC, and read these columns o' mine on "player tampering" and WNBA separatism.

So often when SLAM has a cover feature they're particularly proud of, it gets an online preview. It's excerpts, a teaser, leaks, whatever you want to call it. However, the snippets Lang gave us of his chat with Rajon Rondo pointed in another direction. There were certifiable bits of gold in there, that, when isolated and melded together, give you the perfect composite picture of what makes Rondo Rondo. Why he's the folk hero heir to Garnett and at the same time, a demonic update on a popular Celtics icon. That could either refer to any number of great guards past, or the leprechaun himself. Most likely, in his cartoonish, self-taught brilliance, an equation that combines them all.

Here, then, is the boiled-down, purified, essence of that interview, which gives you only answers on that most fundamental of levels. I love it. And I can't wait to read the rest, so I can repeat this scholarly (or completely trivializing) task:

"People probably don’t even know I made the All-Star team. Some don’t, some do ... Bron was running the point. I was just out there (laughs).

"I went to Oak Hill, and I knew Josh Smith was going to the League. I thought, OK, if he’s going to the League out of high school, and I’m just as good as him and put up the same numbers, even though we’re different positions, I was confident."

"So I got serious and started working at it. That was before my senior year."

"I wasn’t a big NBA fan growing up. I didn’t watch it. I just knew it was the highest level of basketball you could be at, and I just wanted to be there."

(Lang asks what the closest NBA team was in Louisville). "Pacers. It’s an hour-and-half drive. I never went to a game."

"I didn’t watch the NBA until maybe my freshman year of college, because I was trying to get there. It just wasn’t interesting to me."

"I mean, I’ve never even seen Jordan play, really. I just didn’t watch it."

(Lang gives Rondo props for his Dream Shake against the Cavs) "I’ve never seen him play, though. I’ve never seen Hakeem play, never seen that move. I always do that move, and Kevin always tells me it’s the Dream Shake. To me, it’s the Rondo Shake."

"I’m a little different. I’m never really in awe of people. I don’t get caught up in the moment when I’m playing with people."

"I feel like I’m the man, that’s how I put it. But if people don’t consider me that, I’m not bothered if you say I’m not a top five point guard. Every night I prove it, but that’s just how it is."

The Mailblog Starts Flying Around the Room

This afternoon, I get the following email (and images) from Kevin Blackistone:

"So a friend of mine, Darrell (O-Dog from The Wire), was checking out T-shirts at his local American Apparel and he noticed a shirt with this image from the 1960's on it. He thinks the one black face is Kobe, and everyone he showed it to in the store thinks the same."





Kevin compared this to "Jesus on a french fry", but to me it's way bigger. I'm thinking Zapruder.

Please also take the time to read the earlier, Randy Foye-themed mailbag, or my column from today about LeBron and coaches.

From the Mailbag, Heavy with Sighs

This came to me via an anonymous reader, and I am very thankful for it. Other update: Enter our KGF contest—you can drop the "obscure" and "seventies" from the prompt now—and read me on Melo's contract and GM class struggle. Now, enjoy.

"I recently wrote and produced on a Canadian TV show for tweens called Wingin' It and Randy Foye was a guest star. We wanted someone recognizable to a Canadian audience so the producers got us Randy Foye?! The theory among the writers is that some agent or manager swindled the exec-producers into thinking Randy was a real score."



"The series also features a talking raccoon named Dennis, who is a hokey-looking puppet. Perhaps the funniest moment not caught on tape was when my show-runner introduced Randy (sipping on a smoothie) to Dennis. Not the puppeteer, he introduced Randy to Dennis the talking raccoon and they had a little chat."

I have it on good authority that Foye wouldn't do anything more than that lay-up, and that the sparkle that envelopes him at the end was the Smoke Monster's Ivy League-educated ballerina cousin who shall seed with world with even more malice. Anyway, thanks reader. We did, together.

Update: I work hard for this. Column on LeBron and coaches with theory buried in it, I think.

Kings Go Forth Talk Basketball and Records

In my perfect world, I would have an Eames recliner. Also, there would be a band making music today that's influenced by old soul/funk without sounding derivative. And they would be into hoops. And there would be a serious record dude lurking in their ranks. The existence of such a band, and the chance to pick their brains, would be almost self-serving for me; I'm always knee-deep in NBA, and when I need air, I pretend to be a record collector. Which is, as some of you know, so much less stressful than following box scores.

As it turns out, dreams do come true. Not long after I first heard Milwaukee's Kings Go Forth, (late on this, I know), I got an email from their publicist pointing me in the direction of a Bucks vid using KGF's "One Day" as the soundtrack. I ended up sending some questions on NBA stuff for guitarist Dan Flynn, and record nerd queries for bassist Andy Noble. It might be the ultimate in narcissistic music writing, or the moment where I am made whole as a person (at least Internet-wise), but for real, you need to hear this shit. We'll even be running a contest: Send me your best pairing of a rare record with a semi-obscure NBA/ABA/Eastern League player, along with a little bit of explanation, and you'll be in the running to win a copy of Kings Go Forth's mightily-acclaimed debut, The Outsiders Are Back. Send entries to freedarko at gmail dot com.

Oh, and I got my chair.

Bethlehem Shoals: One of the things FD has been continually baffled by is the relationship between music and sports. Sometimes it seems merely aesthetic, other times,there's a deeper kinship there. I'm sick of being told that basketball is like jazz, and on the other hand, basketball = hip-hop is almost too fraught to get into. So, the blanket question: What do you think?

Dan Flynn: I think this question comes down to if you're looking at it from a player's viewpoint, or more a spectator's. I play both music and ball, and even when I'm watching/listening I'm doing so as an active participant—putting myself into the situation. I find a lot of similarities, and I think of both as forms of self expression through non-verbal communication. In each you have a framework; in basketball an overall game plan with some set plays and defensive schemes, and in music you have a song with a verse, chorus, etc. But over that song you can improvise. Take "One Day"—there's a basic drum pattern, conga pattern, bass and chordal pattern, but really the whole rhythm section is improvising over that framework, listening and playing off of each other. We've never played that song the same way twice. And [vocalist] Blackwolf never sings it the same way. It's group improv, which is very similar to say, running an offensive set in basketball. You never know what the defense is going to do and you need to adjust, you need to improvise.

Basketball is more relatable than any other sport because of the way it flows—few sports have the same motion. Maybe hockey and soccer, but definitely not football or baseball. Basketball's all about rhythm, and of course so is music. Especially music with some looseness to it like soul, funk and jazz, you can feel that push and pull, that ebb and flow.

BS: Kings Go Forth is a band that really reflects not only a respect for the past, but a real interest in the self-proclaimed "record guy" culture. After all, you have Mingering Mike doing the cover for the new record. You guys do have a very distinctive sound, one that's not just run-of-the-mill funk revival. I keep hearing, or at least hearing about, these random records that do cast a new perspective on a tradition. Any particular "unusual" records that really influenced you?

Andy Noble: Well, I'd like to think I'm on the front line of the record discoveries, as I am out there everyday digging, both traditionally and through talking to old artists/producers/etc. There's nothing I love more than uncovering something that was previously unknown and has musical validity to today's scene. Some of the things probably sound better today than when they were initially produced. But, as far as influence is concerned, it's not like there are magic rare records that I draw from that distinguish our sound from other groups'. I am equally as influenced by a Stevie Nicks' song that is playing in my girlfriends car as I am by some private-press, one-known copy spiritual jazz LP that I found last summer. Which is to say, I am influenced by all of it.

BS: Do you ever get anyone questioning the authenticity of soul/funk coming out of Milwaukee? It doesn't have quite the same tradition as, say, Chicago.

AN: Well, that's not really a matter of opinion, it's a matter of looking at my box of over 200 locally produced soul 45s from the 60s-80s and saying , yes, this was/is a thing. Hundreds of men,women, and children from this city entered mom-and-pop studios, probably inspired partly by the local successes of Harvey Scales and the Esquires, and cut some pretty great music. In my opinion, the sound of Milwaukee R&B would best be characterized as "low-budget" Chicago or "low-budget Midwest" Soul. We did not have the infrastructure of a Chicago or a Detroit as far as access to professional arrangers, string sections, etc., so the scope of the recordings are usually a little toned-down from what you would hear from those cities. I think that sound continues through our record, for sure.



BS: What players today would you say either match your guys's sound, or just generally the spirit of this style of music? Are the Bucks too scrappy and goofy? Can I cast a vote for Brandon Jennings as the lone exception?

Dan Flynn: That's kind of a tough question, I feel like I'm really reaching here. But it's funny, I'd say the scrappiness of the Bucks this year definitely fits us, and Jennings in particular. Another guy might be Manu Ginobili. We have a lot of excellent, seasoned players in our group, but at the same time I feel we often approach things with more of a punk/indie rock attitude. In fact the use of the word "janky" is pretty common amongst ourselves to describe what we're doing. That's what I feel separates us from the other groups out there in our style, as well as some of the older groups; we're not trying to be smooth. We're not afraid to be rough, ragged and raw—we don't care how we look doing it.

As far as style or aesthetics, he's not current but a year or so ago I DVR'd a bunch of early Jordan college and NBA games on ESPN Classics. I guess I hadn't remembered how hard he was rocking those Dr. J moves back then, and it was really interesting to see. He was somewhere between the style of the late '70s NBA and what he'd later become, which I think is pretty much still the modern offensive NBA style. You could see it was there, just hadn't developed yet. I guess that's where I see us, one foot in the past yet trying to see how to apply those classic elements to the present and future.

BS: Have you ever had stuff played at Bucks game, or gotten feedback from Bucks (or their fans)? That vid of Bucks footage and "One Day" worked surprisingly well.

DF: Not that I'm aware of. That video is a good fit though, but I have to say that song seems to be a good fit for all kinds of things. I occasionally play pickup games with Tony Smith, who does some commentary for the Bucks (and of course is a top player in his own right), I might ask him next time I see him. Actually I just wanted to drop his name. I remember a year or so ago someone mentioning a possibility of us playing at halftime, don't know what happened to that.

BS: How about some top five lists for the people?

Dan Flynn: For the record Steve Nash is my favorite player. But if I was putting together an all-time best as far as a team that would crush anyone I wouldn't pick him. Too much of a defensive liability. So at point, although not known for his D I'd have Magic. At shooting guard I'd have Oscar Robertson (yeah, I'm from MKE, but can you blame me?). Small forward MJ, gotta have him in there somewhere I guess (swing man?). Power forward maybe a healthy Kevin McHale. Wait, scratch McHale—I'd like to see Garnett and Bill Russell together. Defense.

Andy Noble: The five important records in my life:

-Love, self-titled debut LP. Soundtrack to my 20s.
-Pharoah Sanders, "The Creator Has A Master Plan". Saved my life a few times.
-The Impressions, "Mighty Mighty Spade and Whitey". I started digging for records because of this tune.
-Little Beaver, "Do Right Man" 45. SAADIA. First "big boy" record in my box.
-The Specials More Specials LP. Taught me that a "genre" band could completely break the mold and make something brand new out of a traditional form.

BS: Do you ever watch games on mute? If so, with what music on?

Dan Flynn: No, I don't. I no longer have cable, so when I'm watching it's mostly in the company of several others, or I'll have a game on the radio at work. Think I'm gonna have to get ESPN 360 next season. But I don't know if I'd like music at the same time, might take away from the focus/intensity.

BS: Describe your relationship to the past and the tradition, insofar as thinking about KGF's sound and style is concerned.

Andy Noble: Obviously we draw fairly heavily from the well of independent 60s-80s black american music, especially in the aesthetic department. I would like to think that the content, both lyrically and emotionally, of the music is as contemporary or "timeless" as anything else out there right now though. At least that's what I'm shooting for.



Thanks again to Dan and Andy for answering these questions, which were a lot more obnoxious in original form. Don't be shy about entering the contest! Or, save yourself the trouble and cop The Outsiders Are Back the old-fashioned way.

First Annual Memorial FreeDarko Dinosaur Draft

John Wall can go to hell. There are dinosaurs that want to play in this league, and while many of them have probably been extinct for millions of years, their memory lingers on. Shoals, Ziller, and Eric Freeman are proud to present the First Annual Memorial FD Dino Draft. We can only hope you learn as much as we had to. Oh, also, someone needs to start a boobs and draft site. It would do millions of eyes per day!

1. New Jersey - Velociraptor



The widely acknowledged best propsect in the draft does not come without serious concerns, notably that widely available "Jurassic Park" scouting tape shows him to be twice his real size and that he works best in packs with similar players. Still, it's hard to argue with the Swift Robber's tremendous speed, intelligence, and ability to jump passing lanes and create transition opportunities at the other end. Yes, Chris Paul's injury this season may scare some teams from taking a small guard, but the Nets need to go with the closest approximation of a sure thing we have in this draft. Plus, you know that first game against Toronto will have more familial intrigue than even the Lopez Civil Wars. (Eric Freeman)

2. Minnesota - Gallimimus



The unfortunately named "chicken imitator" represents a major jump forward not only in dinosaur evolution, but in scouting philosophy. For years, scientists have quasi-racist-ly wondered if Africans made better long-distance runners because of genes, or Africa, or something equally deterministic. The Nuggets have yet to draft a player from the Himalayas, and the hyberbaric chamber didn't stick as a training fad. But with Gallimimus—a fleet, active dinosaur even at almost ten feet tall—the body temperature of roughly 102 degrees Fahrenheit will no doubt come in handy in the wilds of Minnesota. Warming up may not literally mean "getting warm," but no question this beast will be ready to play faster than its human teammates, and be slowed less by the creaks, aches and pains that come with living in cold country. (Bethlehem Shoals)

3. Sacramento - Carcharodontosaurus



Strangely enough, size and toughness corresponded more tightly in the prehistoric world than in today's NBA. Carcharodontosaurus, one of the largest predators ever, combines tenacity and brawn like few prospects. It'd be considered a can't-miss prospect if not for perceived attitude problems. The Algerian big man has a killer instinct with the tools to implement pain, but it's a black hole who thinks pretty highly of itself and doesn't like to share the rock. (Or anything.) Carcharodontosaurus is also said to have a sticky buy-out option with its Italian club. Shades of Fran Vasquez? Sacramento has been able to pull international players (Peja Stojakovic, Hedo Turkoglu) in the past, and Carcharodontosaurus just fits too well to pass up at No. 3. (Tom Ziller)

4. Golden State - Amargasaurus



Hailing from the La Amarga region of Argentina, this is perhaps the most intriguing and confusing sauropod in this class. Off the court, expect him to turn Anthony Randolph onto the joys of club mosses and ferns, which should treat his stomach much better than the raw turtle meat Monta convinced him to try last season. Scouts can't agree whether Amargasaurus's spines support a sail, hump, or horny sheath -- each of which portends a different path for his career. Don Nelson hasn't seen a philosophical battle this stark since the early days of Dirk Nowitzki. Amargasaurus isn't versatile; he's a Rorschach test. And Nellie is absolutely sure that it's a 12-foot small forward, not a post guy. For a man who loves to prove his point with little regard for reptilian decency, there's no more desirable player. (EF)

5. Washington - Mononykus



Undersized, and with short arms and ridiculously long, powerful legs, Monoykus is certainly one of the most engimatic players in this draft. It prefer to play in the post, clearing out space (shades of Moses wit dat azz) and then meekly popping in a shot with expert touch. Such are the advantages of living life like a giant ant-eater when away from the court. Mononykus certainly fits in with the overall strangeness of the Wizards team, but most importantly, brings back some of the toughness lost when Caron Butler was traded. It also, in a way, replaces Antawn Jamison, as its unorthodox work in the paint both keeps teams on their toes and leaves room for Gilbert Arenas and Andray Blatche to operate. Better than Jamison, actually, since it not only makes space for itself, but has a Varejao-like knack for getting others players better looks. Also, it is already blue, which has to save DC some money somehow. (BS)

6. Philadelphia - Gojirasaurus



Ed Stefanski, a secret monster flick fanatic, can't pass up Gojirasaurus. The demonic theropod fits the Philadelphia mold, with incredible athleticism gilding over crummy fundamental skills. A tweener, like every other Sixer not named Sam Dalembert or Elton Brand, Gojirasaurus figures to study under Thaddeus Young and fill in in smallball lineups. Finding the right coach to get Gojirasaurus on the right path remains a priority for Philadelphia; like Young and Andre Iguodala, Gojirasaurus would have been a disaster under Eddie Jordan. If Philadelphia makes the playoffs, the rookie could have a Beauboisian impact. (TZ)

7. Detroit - Tyrannosaurus Rex:



You know the legend: few players have garnered so much hype while in college (even at the tiny University of Montana). He's the king of the predators, the hadrosaur to end all hadrosaurs. It's no surprise that a downtrodden franchise would go for a big-name player who can bring in fans, especially in a town where everyone is looking for excuses to hold on to their dollars. Unfortunately, noted draft expert Jack Horner thinks everyone has it wrong, and that T. Rex has been scavenging stats from harder-working players for years, taking the attendant acclaim when he really only showed up late and picked at the bones of the opposition. On the other hand, he trained with Eddie Franklin, one of the finest coaches of our era. And just imagine how much that intro music will work up the crowd! (EF)

8. L.A. Clippers - Stygimoloch



On the surface, a very Clippers pick. Ten feet long, four feet tall, you figure whoever their GM is got his numbers confused. But as is often the case with the Clip Show, there's something far more troubling afoot here. Stygimoloch, whose name means either "Demon from the River Styx", "Thorny Devil", or "Horned Devil from the River of Death," looks evil and crazy and owes its fearsome moniker to the legend of River Styx, which you cross to get to Hades, and Moloch, the devil in the Jewish faith. In fact, it's the only dinosaur with Hebrew on its jersey. So we have an ancient, revolting drone of Satan whose name directly refers to the Jews—a people who, as it so happens, are to forced to acknowledge Donald Sterling as one of their own. Sterling is reunited here with his henchman of eons ago, proving that he is, if not the devil, at least in league with him. (BS)

9. Utah - Caudipteryx



If Jameer Nelson is a crib midget, Caudipteryx is a ... midget crib midget. The Boykins-with-bite hails from China, where it developed ball skills and quickness chasing cockroaches and dandelion blossoms. Caudipteryx is a real showman, something Utah's royal Miller family embraces despite the conservative roster the Jazz employ. Thank goodness Caudipteryx waited until Hot Rod Hundley retired to make itself draft-eligible, though -- it would have given the old man a half-dozen strokes a year. Watching this oviraptor is bound to make the heart palpitate and stop at the same time. (TZ)

10. Indiana - Camarasaurus



Even after all these years, the Pacers can't shake the demons of The Brawl, maintaining their commitment to nice young boys with sharp haircuts even as they languish in the late stages of the lottery. Camarasaurus fits their franchise ethos perfectly. A world-traveled type who's already plied his trade in several continents, he was nice enough to provide diggers in squeaky-clean Utah with the most complete sauropod skeleton ever found in 1922. The bad news is that he has holes in his vertebrae and might not want to do much more than eat trees. But Roy Hibbert worked out pretty well, and you could have said the same things about him in 2008. (EF)

11. New Orleans - Prenocephale



Small, speedy, and with gigantic eyes that indicate its superior vision, Prenocephale is yet another prime point guard to call New Orleans home. Chris Paul is a crown jewel of today's NBA, and Darren Collison might have been the finest PG in last year's rookie class. The Hornets, who have so little to their name, really have choice but to try and play them together. Marcus Thornton brings some pure scoring fire power, but someone has to spell Paul and Collison if the team really does go with a "best available" approach to the starting line-up. Or, if one is traded, the team will need a back-up. Or, if things get really crazy, and someone recognizes that even a 4-foot tall dinosaur is still really fucking strong and athletic, maybe Preneocphale can become like a scaly cross between Tyson Chandler and Brad Miller. (BS)

12. Memphis - Chirostenotes



Chirostenotes may be Greek for "narrow handed," but don't think Memphis's point guard of the future has Kwame paws. Despite its regrettable height, Chirostenotes has a solid trunk and figures to be the rare guard with a post presence. Chirostenotes' vicious defensive energy should also help shore up the Grizzlies' weaknesses on that end, and like Kyle Lowry before him, Chirostenotes will keep Mike Conley looking like Matthew Lesko. Hasheem Thabeet + Chirostenotes = marketing gold. (TZ)

13. Toronto - Avimimus



Most prognosticators have assumed that the Raptors would take some variety of their namesake, but Bryan Colangelo has always had more imagination than that. With Chris Bosh likely leaving town in a few weeks, this is a franchise in transition, so what better way to literalize things than by taking a creature that has as much in common with a bird as a reptile. Avimimus, the Bird Mimic, looks like a prehistoric turkey and can even fly a short distance in a manner similar to that of a chicken. Sure, that might not sound like much, especially for a player this small, but this is all about baby steps. You can't learn to fly until you first hop with extreme awkwardness. Eventually, the Raptors will soar like eagles. (EF)

14. Houston - Ouranosaurus



No one has ever accused Daryl Morey of skewing obvious, but he's also not devious. Ouranosaurus, a relatively docile creature that's nevertheless earned the title "brave monitor lizard", is right up Morey's alley. It's 6'7", has a fin that serves as an invaluable offensive weapon (i.e. it can block everyone's line of sight), and is equal parts savage, noble monster and thoughtful, upright reptile-cow. Ouranosaurus likes efficient, high-percentage shots, and knows how to get them, just like how in nature it finds pine cones and leaves that it doesn't have to stretch to eat. Some see a prospect lacking in real size, or low on clear-cut plans of attack. But this dude is resourceful and capable of reading the situation to find his spot, a fitting replacement for the dearly departed Carl Landry. Get in and fit in. That's its motto, and it might as well be the credo for the Yao/Martin/Adelman Rox. (BS)

15. Milwaukee - Dromiceiomimus



The world again applauds John Hammond's good fortune. After Colangelo reached for a bird mimic at No. 13, the Bucks saw Dromiceiomimus, the emu mimic, slide to them at No. 15. Shades of DeRozan over Jennings. Dromiceiomimus slides right into Milwaukee's brilliant power forward rotation (Ersan Ilyasova, Luc Richard Mbah a Moute), offering less refined skills but tremendous speed in the open court. Luke Ridnour was born to hit Dromiceiomimus with bounce passes. There are some concerns as to whether Dromiceiomimus can co-exist with Andrew Bogut, given Bogut's stated hatred of bling and loud hip hop, two of Dromiceiomimus' fundamental loves. (TZ)

16. Charlotte - Nanotyrannus



All discerning NBA fans can agree that the Bobcats have embarrassing riches of viciousness in their frontcourt. Yet before the arrival of Stephen Jackson, their perimeter players have typically been style vacuums of the order of Raymond Felton and D.J. Augustin. Nanotyrannus, a 6'6" hadrosaur some analysts think may simply be a juvenile T. Rex, can help continue the trend that Captain Jack started. If other wings are smooth, Nanotyrannus is the kind who will dunk on your head and then eat your baby right after it hatches. Oh, plus he's the first dinosaur to be CAT-scanned and lived for a relatively short period of just one million years. In other words, he sounds exactly like a perimeter version of Gerald Wallace. (EF)

17. Chicago - Baryonyx



A huge, huge steal for Chicago. There have never been any questions about the skill, motivation, physical ability, or intelligence of Baryonyx (or "Heavy Claw" as it was nicknamed as the University of Niger). Heavy Claw is an inside-outside threat with highly-evolved passing skills, the kind of creator the Bulls badly need. It even scored a 1300 on the SATs. The concern was that, because of the incredible risk its talons pose to the basketball, the NBA would declare it ineligible for the league, as it did with Pteroactyl and other flying reptiles. Throughout high school and college, HC was outfitted with its very own protective glove, but the NBA felt this violated its Laws of Equipment. Luckily, when Leon Rose threatened to sue, the league relented. However, the situation remains tense, with both sides vowing to take this all the way up to the Supreme Court if it should go to trial. The Players Association has refrained from taking a side because it's still not sure if it can speak for the dinosaurs. (BS)

18. Miami - Euoplocephalus



If Pat Riley is really coming back, he needs to add a banger to help distract everyone from what Michael Beasley has become. Enter Euoplocephalus (aka "Well-Armored Head," the most literal streetball name ever). Euoplocephalus is Al Horford in Jeff Bower's body. Paul Millsap and Brandon Bass and, hell, even Glen Davis have continued to sing the tune of the rough-and-tumble undersized power forward. Euoplocephalus has short, stout legs, but weighs over two tons. It will be exceedingly difficult to ref Euoplocephalus, should the beast ever reach his potential and co-lead the Heat deep into the playoffs. (TZ)

19. Boston - Edmontonia



This postseason, the Celtics are proving that age and midseason lethargy don't necessarily consign a team to an early playoff exit. They're surviving in any way possible. Sixty-six million years ago, Edmontonia extolled the same ethos and became one of the last surviving dinosaurs through a combination of dogged resilience and determination. Plus, it's already green and white. No uniform necessary. (EF)

20. San Antonio - Maiasaura



You look at Malasaura and see an unremarkable, slow, medium-sized herbivore. That's why you don't work for the Spurs front office. They know that a Malasaura bone is the only fossil to thus far make the long journey into outer space, which is exactly the kind of detail that Popovich and Buford are looking for. Can I tell you for certain how it will be used, or what the implications of this fact are? No, but that's why I'm writing this dinosaur mock draft instead of working for the Spurs. (BS)

21. Oklahoma City - Einiosaurus



You want to know how comfortable Einiosaurus is in his own skills? It has a hooking bottle-opener nasal horn, two superorbital horns, and two frill spikes ... and Einiosaurus doesn't eat meat! Like Kevin Durant, Einiosaurus could gore you on every possession, but holds it back, waiting for the right opportunity. (Serge Ibaka and Russell Westbrook could learn something from Einiosaurus.) The "Buffalo Lizard" should study under Nick Collison in order to learn the ways of the rebound and the drawn charge, though the next time Einiosaurus hits the deck will be the first. (TZ)

22. Portland - Argentinosaurus



The Blazers are at a crossroads with Kevin Pritchard potentially heading out the door and Greg Oden seemingly becoming less a part of the team's future plans with each passing year. This next season needs to be a time to figure things out and decide which of their considerable young assets should be kept around and which should be dealt for needed pieces. In short, they don't need any more players around to make things even more complicated. That's why Argentinosaurus is the perfect pick -- even at 97 million years of age, he won't be ready for the NBA for at least another season. The fossil record on this beast is startingly incomplete, but at an estimated 24-feet-tall, the potential is certainly there. I even hear Paul Allen's already booked him a sail barge to Spain, where he's likely to replace Tiago Splitter in the Real Madrid lineup. (EF)

23. Minnesota - Troodon



You look at this pick and think, hey, even David Kahn takes days off. He probably just sprung for Troodon because it can run the floor and has vicious teeth, much like a Timberwolf. It's not even three-feet tall, which also represents an obvious scouting oversight. But wait, there's more. For reasons inexplicable to those of us not thoroughly immersed in the warm, murky baths of paleontological discourse, Troodon has been singled out as "Most Likely to Evolve Into Something Totally Weird" in the annal of dinosaur-dom. Here is a quote, drawn from said broth of knowledge: "In the early 1980s, paleontologist Dale Russell, curator of vertebrate fossils at the National Museums of Canada, in Ottowa, explore the notion 'What if Troodon had survived and continued to evolve and get brainier?'. The resulting "Dinosauroid" was a model of a large-brained, reptilian biped with enormous eyes, three-fingered hands, an absence of external genitalia (typical of reptiles), and a navel." The Corey Brewer experiment has spawned an imitator—or maybe Kahn just wants to leave behind the reptile son he never could have in life. (BS)

24. Atlanta - Sauropelta



Sauropelta has been very well-scouted, which explains why he dropped so far out of the lottery despite a solid defensive body of work in college. The Rocky Mountain product is a bit of a tweener (both SF-PF and Nodosauridae-Ankylosauridae), and it has no long-range consistency. To succeed in the league, Sauropelta will have to work harder than anyone else on the court, which, to be fair, it has shown the ability to do. Jay Bilas cannot believe Sauropelta fell this far, and is planning on torching a Ukrainian farmer's market as a result. (TZ)

25. Memphis - Supersaurus



Yes, it's another big man for the Grizzlies just a year after Hasheem Thabeet. But the difference in expectations renders it a solid pick nonetheless. At this late stage in the draft, you're drafting for role players rather than potential stars, and no one expects Supersaurus to be anything more than a space-filler and shot-blocker in the paint. You know that old saw about how you can't teach size? James A. Jensen coined it when he found the first bones of the species in 1985. (EF)

26. Oklahoma City - Iguanadon



Call it the Myth of the Dinosaur Jeff Green, or maybe Jeff Green with Dinosaur Qualities, which would make up for the shame Green amassed during the playoffs (and may yet never live down). Iguanadon is, as its name implies, part-iguana, part-dinosaur. Sometimes bipedal, sometimes galloping about on all fours, it's unassuming enough that no one would mistake it for a Garnett or Anthony Randolph-like impact-dinosaur. Nor, really, is it a useless dino-tweener. Green is one of the few players that warrants the description of "hybrid", in that he's neither here nor there, rather than subject to a variety of limitations. His formlessness is his freedom—not ground for his dismissal, nor his heroic burden. So it is with Iguanadon, just doing its thing and trying to make due with some of the best qualities of two distinct phases in reptile development. It is also ten feet tall, which will probably come in handy more than we currently anticipate. Myth of Gigantic Dinosaur Jeff Green Doubling as the Center OKC So Badly Needs? I think that's what I always wanted Alexis Ajinca to be, right down to the dino part. (BS)

27. New Jersey - Masiakasaurus



Mikhail Prokhorov makes his first political pick, having let Rod Thorn handle the lotto selection. Prokhorov has a deal on Madagascar which needs some ... lubrication, so the prime minister's bro's neighbor's nephew is now an NBA player. Congrats, Masiakasaurus, you tiny but vicious lizard. Rafer Alston ought to be relieved he fled Jersey when he could, and man, Corey Booker's going to have a lot of problems to sweep under the rug. The highlight of Masiakasaurus' career might be when Stu Scott calls him "the next T.J. Kidd" on draft night. (TZ)

28. Memphis - Segnosaurus



Every year, a player drops because of a bizarre measurement or medical tic that scares off many unimaginative general managers. This year, that player is Segnosaurus, an impressive player known for his omnivorous versatility. At the combine, though, he tested poorly in speed drills and has been recognized as the first therizinosaurid to be classified from more than just its arms. (There was also a smear campaign perpetrated in the Robert Bakker novel Raptor Red that he's a burrower, but no actual evidence has proven this behavior.) In other words, he's not prototypically "long." But while that classic draft adjective has application to real basketball, it's not necessarily a kiss of death, even for a now-extinct animal. Segnosaurus will enter the league with something to prove and could become one of this class's biggest surprises. (EF)

29. Orlando - Carnotaurus



Holy cow . . . literally. Carnotaurus, whose name means what you think—something about "meat" and "bull"—is a twelve-foot tall raw dynamo with a gigantic single horn on its head. Some messed-up scouting had him pegged as a color-changing weirdo, as seen in Jurassic Park. Amazing how much screwed-up dinosaur evaluation was in the early days (of dinosaur evaluation, not dinosaurs, which have always been old), right? This thing is perfect for Orlando. Carnotaurus could prematurely end the career of either Gortat or Brandon Bass, thus getting rid of one of those malcontents and solving the crowded frontcourt. It is also highly unlikely that its offense could be more rudimentary than Dwight Howard's, a challenge the young superstar would have to address. Carnotaurus will be an important practice player and, down the road, hard-bitten D-League legend that serves as the subject for a Bull Durham-like epic of dust. (BS)

30. Washington - Afrovenator



Some names just scream "NBA" -- Sleepy Floyd, Tiny Archibald, Julius Erving, J.R. Rider, Rafael Araujo, Afrovenator. This '90s throwback -- think Larry Johnson minus a finger and an opposable thumb -- likely doesn't have the speed to be a factor in uptempo games, but Flip Saunders is typically content to let his flex offense piddle around, so Afrovenator could play a key bench role behind Andray Blatche and JaVale McGee. The key here, however, comes off the court, where the good-nature Afrovenator promises to rekindle the mid-Oughts love of life the Wizards exuded. Gilbert Arenas has been too spoiled by controversy to crap in someone's sneaker. But Afrovenator can get away with it. (TZ)

The Phantom Menace

You're welcome for the totally unrelated but awesome videos that someone else excavated. Read me exulting in the Celtics and calling John Wall the first major 2010 piece. Here are some other ideas I've had to deal with:

Okay, so my suggestion about a year ago that max players be given stock options was a silly one. I can't even find it today. The larger point, though, was that the mini-max could be the beginning of players truly starting to control teams—something they have been accused of for years. This summer, when all the marquee free agents will sit down and carve up the territories, or partner up, or whatever analogy puts the funniest hats on their heads in your head, we'll see the next step. Like the Celtics before them, LeBron and company will be renting franchises as staging areas for their championship dreams. Power to the people.

Now, if I can step out of my cloak of self-seriousness for a second, here's the absolutely silly aspect of this all: I blame USA Basketball. Colangelo initially wanted a college-like team where role players and pliant superstars would come together in the service of this great land. Instead, he ended up with the best of the fucking best overcoming the universe with the sheer awesomeness of their aggressive, up-tempo play and bonding over it like a bunches of kids at summer camp. It was their show, not Coach K's, and Kobe teaching Bron about shooting is symbolic player self-determination on every level imaginable.

Team USA was meant to return basketball to America, snatching it from the hands of thugs with big salaries. Instead, it created a tight-knit community of NBA A-listers, including most of this summer's big free agents. In a way, what's resulted is the worst nightmare of this original Colangelo vision of basketball. Plenty of these guys were already friends, but this made it official. If you don't see a direct line from Beijing to the conversations expected to take place between the Class of 2010, you're a fucking idiot. It's a cabal whose internal deliberations will have a huge effect on the alignment of power in the NBA for the next decade or so.

Eric Freeman said of all this "It's just like government. Those with the most money conspire to shape the league under the guise of patriotism." Except in this case, the "guise of patriotism" was at first a means to put players in line. Instead, LeBron and friends ended up overthrowing the damn thing. What they're left with is collusion forged in the crucible of intense love-for-country. To me, that sounds even more like the fundamentals of government.

The Fourth Man

In the next paragraph, there will be much humiliating disclosure and rehashing of matters no one's interested in rehashing. As everyone who has followed these pages faithfully, through riches and through death, knows, I have never been a Celtics fan.

I can now hold my head high and admit that, had I really done my homework on the Russell teams at that point, my stance might have been somewhat mitigated. My dislike for the city of Boston, where I've spent time, has something to do with it, but really has no place in the discussion—a team is not its fans, and the sixties Celts knew this. Much of the "Celtic Pride" that galls me so starts with the Cowens teams; it's somewhat perfunctory on my part, and I've always been quick to defend the genius of Larry Bird.

Yet when Garnett and Allen joined forces with Pierce in Boston, I was skeptical, in large part because of my feelings for the franchise. I also wasn't into the purely mercenary nature of this alliance, though now it seems like a foretelling of the league's player-power future rather than a new low in ring-chasing. That was in part because the legend of KG in Minny had taken on such amplitude (one that, on Thursday, Garnett himself has said he regretted), but also because of my questions over how this could ever feel natural, as opposed to manufactured. Again, I am a Romantic clinging to an era that about to die forever.



It might also have had quite a bit to do with the fact that KG was always one of my favorites, Ray Ray, too. Pierce, I somehow grew to dislike over the years, and there was the small matter of FD sun-god Rajon Rondo lurking in the mix. Briefly, I thought that maybe they would all work together in a way that made the most of their former selves, but instead, sublimation was the name of the game—in terms of both style and personality—and it worked like a charm.

Factor in the team's tough guy-posturing, the stupid Lakers-Celtics binary that forced me to spend weeks explaining why the Lakers had value, and how much I hated myself for not feeling good Garnett got his title, and I came to resent this team. Mightily. Really mature, I know.

As we all know, though, the dynamic has shifted in Beantown over the last two seasons. The ascendancy of Rondo has now put him front and center, with the three vets essentially backing him up (maybe "providing the foundation" makes more sense, except Paul Pierce should never be equated with stability). It started when a KG-less team, with Rondo doing it all, made a respectable playoff run. This season was a learning process; they started out crazy, but Rondo receded. Then injuries hit hard, and Rondo failed to, as they say, step up and carry the team. Now everyone's back and healthy, Rondo's the strongest player, and all is right in the Land of the Green. A Suns-Celtics Finals would essentially be a battle of momentum, if not luck.

In 2008, I had to watch Allen being used ineffectively, and Garnett eschew much of his multi-facetedness in favor of defensive ... enthusiasm? Pierce, whose team it somehow remained, had gone from endearingly awkward to just plain awkward, and somehow gotten even cockier in the process. Rondo was the respectful understudy, or maybe the caddy who advises on putts. Right now, in 2010, the question isn't whether Rondo is one of the league's elite point guards, but whether anyone feels like calling him better than Paul or Williams. Garnett looks healthier, more kinetic, than at any time since he got to Boston, and maybe it's me, but Rondo's progress allows him to more seamlessly fit into an offensive flow. He is right now the veteran version of the long, leaping high school prospect he first entered the league as.

Pierce has his nights, but it's no longer "his team." And, most importantly, Ray Allen is positively tearing it up, also looking better than at any point since he left Seattle in a trade. Allen needs the ball in his hands some, isn't constantly in motion off of screens, and doesn't excel as a stop-and-pop guy in games. A weird combination of strengths and limitations that I often get tripped up trying to describe, and explains some of the ups and downs he's experienced in Boston. If Garnett was trying to prove a point, Allen often simply seemed thwarted, flustered.



In these playoffs, though, Allen is back, even closer to his pre-Celts self than Garnett (who has, in truth, undergone a metamorphosis). It's then that I realize what an innocent bystander he's been in my dislike of this team. You can't really level the "what became of you" accusations against him like your Garnett (if you've got a stomach for that), since Allen has been, in some sense, the forgotten star. In some ways, both KG and Pierce lend themselves to situational play better than Allen. Garnett's found a niche, and Pierce is there to create if he can. Allen should be in the game forever, bouncing around and getting his shot off. He's LIKE A FINE FUCKING WINE, in that he's always already been kind of old, or waiting to age, and now is simply loping along on that continuum. Or maybe he's gracefully inverted it. I'm not sure.

So officially, this Celtics team—with Rondo in charge, Garnett reinventing himself without too many ugly rough edges (yes, I recall round one), Ray Allen set free, and even Tony Allen getting to do his thing—has my vote. Can I say I'd pull for them over the Suns or Lakers? Probably not. However, the hatred is gone. Not only for the team, but for the players on its. I don't feel anymore like we've lost them forever. Big fucking deal, you say. Well, it is to me. Things are starting to feel whole again.

Calm as Flies

There, that's Corey Maggette sparring with some dude. Really puts everything in perspective.

Speaking of a lack of perspective, check out the new FD Presents the Disciples of Clyde Podcast, where I have a nervous collapse over the idea that sports are nothing but a marketplace for enacted cliches and mankind's limitations.

Or what about this amazing piece I wrote over at FanHouse on coping with these crazy times we've entered?

A point I want to make: Garnett looks damn good. Better even than when they won in 2008. I like watching him again, even if he's still pissing me off. Along those same perplexing lines: his comment about loyalty wasting your youth was at once the most KG thing he's said in forever, and a slap in the face of what we construed him to be back in Minny. Which would make it somehow the most and least KG thing out of his mouth in years, or maybe suggest alternate KGs that must battle to the death to decide which one gets remembered. This certainly suggests they cannot co-exist.

Check out Joey on LBJ. He definitely has a sense of perspective about this, one far more useful than that provided by watching Maggette throw weak punches.

It's Here

I HAVE NOTHING TO SAY AND FEEL ONLY THIS AWFUL SENSE OF FOREBODING. THE CLOCK IS TICKING BUT THE SKY HAS ALREADY GONE DARK. SOON, THEY RIDE.

Reading Is Elsewhere

You will like this post I did on LeBron, I promise. Even though it's not on this website.

Your Channel Is Bleeding

Couldn't let this ground go cold without saying one more thing about Rondo. Here's Kevin Pelton on Double R's Game 5, and how it compares to the Wilt/Oscar Night:

. In some ways, Rondo's controlled Game Five performance was as much a sign of maturity as his takeover of Game Four. He picked his spots, deferring to his teammates early and finding the perfect time to exert his will on the game. Rondo and Allen were both highly efficient, combining for 41 points on 27 shooting possessions.

That's a chunk from a paragraph, and as Kevin noted during the game, Rondo's plus/minus indicated that a surprising amount of the Celtics' assault came with him on the bench. However, I would like to compare this to something I wrote here back in March of 2007:

Rondo is like a thousand angry voices in one. This isn't a Kidd-like all-around consistency; I don't think anyone's projecting him as a consistent triple-double threat. Rondo's box scores read like a decent all-around player who relies on demonic possession to excel at any particular one. It's tempting to call these outbursts situational, but the overall pattern is one of provocative randomness. When the unpredictability becomes a predictable feature, you throw up your arms and run toward the light.

Wow, things were so much different then. Whatever, if you're crying for the past right now, read that Suns thing I did for today. It's both closer in tone to 2007 and about why change must come. But enough about me. I remember that, when I posted that thing on Rondo, someone laughed it off as a function of the C's ragged, insistent play. Also probably something about Rondo trying to do everything at once because there was no structure to suggest otherwise.

But looking back, those rookie lines seem like evidence not of skills, but of a single skill—the exact one Kevin describes above. Rondo falls back when he needs to, and asserts himself however the team needs him to. That can lead to all-out domination, or game-management, or some odd combination of the two. It's an advanced, aggressive version of the point guard instinct that somehow registers less impressively, and consistently, than master craftsmen like, say, Stockton or Steve Nash.

Rondo might well be a new kind of pure point guard, one marked not by his ability to set the terms but to adapt and adjust within the game situation. That may also be his greatest strength and his ultimate weakness, since you have to wonder how this strange skill fares once you take away support (note the word choice) from the likes of Garnett and Allen.

Update: Suns link is repaired.

Fields of Garnish

Check out "Lamar Modem," my first foray—along with some help from my FanHouse comrades—into NBA video art. "Stop, Or LeBron Will Shoot" was going to be next, but after last night, who knows? Really though, I did say at the time, and forever, that Rondo was taking too little money.

Speaking of me writing else, this column on the Suns and the nature of revolution will appeal to readers here.

Taking Care of Elephants

Jay Caspian Kang's wardrobe is provided by the Sam Cassell Assistant Coach collection at Macy's. He made his FD debut writing about Jeremy Lin. You can reach him via twitter: @maxpower51.

(skip forward to 31:52)

In the above interview with Steven A. Smith, when asked to identify other players with heart, Allen Iverson, the league’s vanguard of heart, comes up with the following names: Shaq, Lebron, T-Mac, Larry Hughes and Vince Carter.

It’s a puzzling list, to say the least. Have there been four players in the past decade who have been more questioned for their lack of heart? Who has more playoff failures than T-Mac? How many times have you watched some red-faced talking head eviscerate Larry Hughes for his lack of effort? What about all the Shaq fat jokes and the slow swing of public opinion that has cast him as a gregarious, lazy, destructive opportunist?

This weekend, Shoals asked why we feel the need to monetize the performance of certain athletes into moral lurcre—why are we unable to see ourselves in Vince Carter’s inconsistency, in T-Mac’s flashes of apathy, in how Larry Hughes and Lamar Odom deal with crippling family tragedies? Why cannot we see the ups and downs of an athlete as the appropriate metaphor? Why, for God’s sake, when we discuss “heart,” do we equate it with an inhuman desire to win at all costs? Does Galactus, indomitable eater of worlds, lead the universe in heart?

Iverson, unlike his fans and detractors, must view his fellow player as someone very much like himself and not as a phantasmal projection of his own insecurity and pride. In his mind, then, the word heart must mean something very different from what it means to a public who can only view him through the lens of his play on the court and what the media decides to do with him. Throughout the interview with Steven A. Smith, Iverson discusses coming from nothing and making it to where he is today. He repeatedly defines heart, not in terms of performance on the basketball court, but rather as a man’s ability to fight and scrap against a world that longs for his downfall. Scoring thirty in a playoff game and scowling for the cameras might fool the fans into thinking you have heart, but in Iverson’s estimation, players are people and performance on the court is not the only way to measure a man.

Perhaps, instead of focusing only on what happens in a game, he sees the man, himself, with all his baggage and failings, as the metaphor. Within that equation, heart means something entirely different than the ratio of shots he hits in the waning seconds of a playoff game.

Is it any wonder, then, that he chooses Vince, who, in a seven game playoff series against Iverson’s Sixers in 2001, scored 35, 30 and 50 points in Toronto’s three wins, but still carries the label of being a mercurial and uncommitted loser? Nobody in the league is more reviled than Vince, not even Artest, who has his stable of devotees. And yet, Vince plays on, despite the persistent and nearly universal scorn. Maybe Iverson sees a bit of himself in Vince's choice to keep playing amidst a growing consensus that has cast him as a selfish, lazy waster of gifts.

While there is certainly an argument to be made that Vince is getting paid to play, the discussion is not about Vince, at all, really, but more about how Iverson, a maligned millionaire, finds inspiration in another maligned millionaire who fell from a similar state of grace. And what about Larry Hughes, a former teammate who was excoriated by certain media folk for the sin of allowing his grief over his little brother’s death affect his play on the court? How could Iverson, who defines his life in a fighter's terms, not marvel at the heart of someone who suffered a tragic loss and still kept scrapping, even when the world had sent in its indifferent, and oftentimes cruel verdict?

Shortly after naming those names, Iverson goes on to tell Steven A. Smith, in so many words, that when you ascend into the throne of NBA superstar, the public, fueled by the media, salivates at any chance to cut you down into something that can fit their moral and economic agenda. He says, “If you don’t want to go through what I went through, being the bad guy in the NBA and all that, be fake, then.”

His calculus is as clear and as contradictory as a koan: In Iverson's mind, the metaphor is catastrophically wrong. Those who are said to have heart, in fact, do not. To have heart, the judging public, at some point, must disparage your heart. (Practice?) Only from that compromised and conditional position, can you earn real heart.

You Get What You Pay With

Read this first. It's all about structural change and Los Suns and brings you up-to-date on me on this.

However, sometimes, you write a line that's embarrassing, and then your friend writes something more thoughtful about it, and then you have to correct for the heat of the moment. "Fuck Phil Jackson" should have been "Phil Jackson is being cranky, dismissive, rude, and very predictably Boomer-ish." Eric Freeman had another stance: Phil is a hypocrite, since those books he gives everyone couldn't just be taken as lessons in basketball.

Upon further reflection, I've hit on The Secret of Phil Jackson: the secret is that Phil Jackson is only about basketball. We generally assume, as Eric did, that once sports get abstracted or intellectualized enough, it transcends itself and enters into dialogue with all other spheres of human knowledge. However, just as there are smart people who like sports because they provide refuge from figuring out the universe, there are figures like Phil who are, in effect, meaningful only as basketball thinkers. They may draw on other perspectives or methods, but that's not the same as equating sports with Zen or Bolano. Sports will not save you or society; they can just be approached with similar rigor.

It's not so different from applying the scientific method to being a chef, which I believe is called molecular gastronomy, or philosophy PhDs going to work for corporations. To presume a bleeding between all things is almost laughably modern. Get with the century.

The biggest proof I have here that Phil is being flippant or uninterested, not taking some kind of principled stance? He's outright dismissive of the question, even the issue. He hasn't done his research, and takes the same tone he always does when he feels like being a dick. If Jackson was really as deep, thoughtful, or political (pick your imagined compliment) about the non-basketball world as we suppose him to be, he would presumably have a better response. Instead, there's no difference between him and a commenter on AOL or Yahoo!.

Adande asked him about, and many have pointed to—if nothing else, as Eric did, as proof of hypocrisy—his sideline support for Bill Bradley. Guess what? Bradley was an old friend who, while liberal, was a mainstream candidate for President. It wasn't any great feat of will or imagination. It wasn't the world basketball gave him.

Pile of Dominoes

I really should have kept updating this site yesterday, but who am I kidding. This story blew up like trees filled with burning birds, and the news you needed was stuffed down your face by media outlets that could care less about sports. It was beautiful, and yes, maybe a little self-congratulatory for someone like me—sports actually mattered.

What's more, this whole thing has become rather self-evident. I don't know what happens next, but the meaning of this action couldn't be more explicit. There aren't many questions left to ask, or wrinkles to explore. This is the part where, with the Suns (and to some extent, the Spurs) ready to speak and act, we sit back and let them do so. We fall away and hopefully, the world becomes a better place

One thing that's been nagging me. Two, actually. Firstly, I never meant to belittle Steve Nash or his opposition to the Iraq War -- which, at the time he opposed it, didn't even exist. But while Nash's gesture was refreshing, it said more about sports, or its generally conservative (all senses) bent, than the actual arena of activism. His was one voice among many and after all, he is a longhair from a socialist country. This is different. As we've said several times, the stakes are much, much higher for Nash here -- or, to put it another way here, never will his voice, or the Suns voices, matter more than in this situation. Given Nash's popularity, the extent to which he's taken seriously, and the playoff run the team is on, this sports team really is one of more robust advocates this cause could enlist. I always assumed that Nash hated the bill, and yet I recognized what a firestorm he'd step into by speaking out. It was ground zero, the front lines, and any other military analogy you feel like employing. What made this so risky was exactly the extent to which, indeed, Suns activism would more than tokenism.



Then there's the whole bizarre institutional cover aspect of it. The Suns may or may not have said something previously, but it was only once Sarver brought it to the team and made his announcement that everyone really opened up. And really, it's genius. No one is fucking with an owner (Mark Cuban excluded). They are very often rich, powerful, and white beyond the wildest dreams of many who would criticize them. Players taking a stand? They're uppity, dumb athletes who should concentrate on sports, and spoiled millionaires. Owners are lords of this earth. The mere mortals who stand several rungs below them on the tax bracket just can't go around dismissing their opinions, since they have money and money is power. That was immature, I know, but it's unquestionable that Sarver not only made it okay for the Suns to mobilize (beyond his suggestions), but also for Billy Hunter to insert the Players Association into the conversation. Unions in sports should stick to contracts ... unless an owner, traditionally their adversaries, allow them to deflect attention back toward the right, or more charitably, the universal.

Still, it's pretty amazing that Billy Hunter's saying stuff like this: “It’s phenomenal. This makes it clear to me that it’s a new era. It’s a new time. Athletes can tend to be apolitical and isolated from the issues that impact the general public. But now here come the Suns. I would have expected nothing less from Steve Nash who has been out front on a number of issues over the years. I also want to recognize Amare. I know how strident Amare can be and I’m really impressed to see him channel his intensity. It shows a tremendous growth and maturity on his part. And I have to applaud Bob Sarver because he is really taking a risk by putting himself out there. I commend them. I just think it’s super.” That came from Dave Zirin's piece on the breaking story; a statement followed that, more formally, made it clear where Hunter's allegiances lie. The statement, which you can read here, was direct and focused on this issue. Speaking to Zirin, though, Hunter gushed.

You simply cannot ignore a phrase like "a new era." The new era may be players, and indeed an entire organization, turning political when their voices matter most. This is not a celebrity endorsement, or even players getting out the vote during last year's election. However breathlessly it's come together, we're now seeing an extremely strategic use of authority and power to make sports viable as a political entity. I also think we have to acknowledge that the league signed off on this, which goes all the way up to Stern. Who knows if any other players will weigh in, or how much the Suns will now be associated with this protest. These are exciting times, and I have no idea what's next—just that, whether or not we see another moment like this anytime soon, there's now a plan to action in place.

And oh yeah, fuck Phil Jackson, even if he is just trying to out-coach Gentry already. Also, would love to see some Suns fans try and boycott/boo their team, and then Phoenix go on and win this series.