What Hideous Curiosity

Over the years, FD has become associated with many things, some good, some bad. Among the leading positives is Big Baby Belafonte's dazzling artwork. Since the Style Guide was first released--ironically, you can't even see it anymore--Big Baby has popularized a distinctive, resonant way of looking at basketball. Literally. The Macrophenomenal Almanac and the Undisputed Guide expanded the audience for this exciting, perceptive, creative thinking, and Big Baby's work is as inextricably FD as anything else. We're all fortunate to say so. Those prints are something of a trademark. And a cash cow!

(Please note that I can write all of these nice things, however factual, because I've had absolutely nothing to do with the art. Like anyone else, I am a fan who looks on with amazement and appreciation.)

It's not just Big Baby, though. FD has been the launching point for a number of artistic explorations. Who could forget when Tom Ziller used his third-eye vision to teach that the day's mathematics was Z? Or more recently, when Hakeen was remembered amid the scribbles in your notepad that invented your life? FD has a proud artistic tradition.

Today may mark a departure from this distinguished history. Certainly, there is artwork that follows, and it very much endeavors to comment on this basketball which we hold dear. But that's the end of the similarity. Our latest episode offers decidedly less aesthetic appeal than that which is common among its predecessors. It might not even make any sense. The images that you're about to look upon are purposely lo-fi, functional in the service of expressing an idea, but not exactly ready to adorn the lavish halls of Slim Chin's manse.

These images grew out of a confused, meandering conversation that I had with Shoals one night last week as Derrick Rose played a sensational game that we hated. You may recall the capstone:



Less obvious while in plain sight, Derrick Rose took a customary straight path to the basket. He seems to always do that, eschewing soft angles and minute precision for hard darts and raging athleticism directed in a single vector. Rose can change directions, of course, but he explodes in a series of discrete movements, no matter how quickly he may change from one to another. His motion isn't united as a single brush stroke. It is a collection of lines, a pile of pickup sticks arrayed in new patterns but always limited by the component parts. Another image that immediately appeared in my mind was one of a locomotive laying down its own tracks as it rumbled along. Shoals was almost mad at Rose for this. We agreed that it was dissonant. For all of his obvious physical prowess, Rose has a limited game. Only, the limit is born of convenience. He isn't a wonderful shooter, his court vision is not an unmistakable strength, and he does not pose a threat from all over. Derrick Rose doesn't need that. Instead, he's something of a perfect scoring weapon, a man who invariably finds himself at the rim after picking a trail and racing forward along it. The shit works.

Brute strength and straight-line basketball are shrill traits for a point guard in this new era of the position's pitch-perfect primacy. While styles among the leading point guards vary, seemingly each one makes far more sense for its master than Rose's does for a player as physically competent. Shoals and I mulled this over for a while before intervening commitments left us at the point where artwork comes into the story. Lost in the morass we commonly create as our online ruminations crash into each other, we agreed that I would endeavor to create simple visuals that captured the overriding impressions respectively left by my favorite guards. This, we thought, might help us better articulate what Derrick Rose is, exactly. I am not sure that I succeeded, but maybe it will start a better conversation.

(Click to enlarge.)

Chris Paul, Angle Master




Derrick Rose, Raging Bull




Rajon Rondo, Cat on Ice Skates




Russell Westbrook, The Magic Carpet Ride

Look Out, Distant Past!!!!!

This has already been up on Twitter for an hour, so I don't even know why I'm bothering with this announcement. Perhaps I'm just a man of tradition, or the old ways that will never die. In any case, when you gear up for the 2010-11 NBA season, you will be able to do so with a new FreeDarko book by your side. That's right, today we shook virtual hands with Bloomsbury on a follow-up to The Macrophenomenal Pro Basketball Almanac, tentatively called something like The Microphenomenal Companion to Pro Basketball History. For those concerned, "microphenomenal" is even less of a real word than "macrophenomenal."

As the title suggests, this volume will take our zany and introspective take on the game and comb through the sands of time with it. Who knows what will pop up? We too hope to be surprised, challenged, and even occasionally disgusted.

We look forward to once again working with Ben Adams, Carrie Majer, and all the other fine folks at Bloomsbury. We'd like to thank our agent Chris Parris-Lamb, and wish his Jackals good luck in the upcoming NY Urban Professionals League playoffs. And yes, we owe it all to you, the readers, but probably mostly those of you who bought a copy of the first book.

With that, let a new day dawn!

Our Guardian Angel

Special field report on another big time in big shoulder city, by the indomitable Brian Lauvray.

Late last week the opportunity arose for me to actually get to, you know, ask Kobe F*cking Bryant a few questions and for the rest of my life tell people that, "Yes, in fact, I have been face-to-face with a NBA legend in his prime." Naturally I jumped on the chance and today found myself driving a borrowed, early 1990s Pontiac through the blighted neighborhoods of Chicago's Westside on my way to the jointly (Nike/Foot Locker) owned House of Hoops where Monsieur Bryant was going to make a special guest appearance to premier his hottttttt new shoes named after his Philly high school. So let's cut to the chase:

Inside the mall/outside the House of Hoops: Hysteric throngs of teenagers (God! I hate teenagers), shoe heads, NBA junkies and confused parents/legal guardians all crowded around at what first seems to be an invisible force field but in reality, and on a closer inspection, is revealed to be a velvet rope. "Crap!" thinks my brain, "I'm 15 fucking minutes early and I'm already too late. 'Au contraire, feeble brain;' you know someone on the inside. Eureka." My Nike contact is informed by security of my arrival and Blam-O, Kobe is mere feet from my sweaty palms.

The Q 'n A: Kobe and some Chicago-area comedian, it's not Bernie Mac --this I know; are bouncing ideas and questions off one another. Topics include: his new shoes, "Why low top instead of high top?; the competitiveness of Kobe's daughters; Does he have anyone who he steps up his game to play against*; Who he likes to talk trash to? Manu. Shocker!

One Question Interview: After the question and answer session and the five lucky/depraved fans who have been waiting in line since Friday for the new Zooms and the chance to see Mamba get their hotttt new shoes signed by #24, I'm informed by my Nike rep that now is the time for me to go and talk to Kobe. His prickly handler explains that I have one question w Kobe. "Alright."



So there it was. I asked what I thought was an informed and decent question and brought the FD book to show off and proffer to Kobe. Of course, the prickly handler in his haste to usher me away and disassemble and pack up Kobe, demanded, "Are you giving it [the book] to us or what?" Anyway, Kobe is much nicer in person and definitely does seem to take himself so seriously when he's not on the court or in the scrutinizing lights of a sound studio with a Stu Scott on his jock. He's definitely very manicured in his demeanor, habits and way he handles himself.**

*Kobe claims no one, he just approaches every game/player the same way. The "Artest Game" in Houston at the start of March begs to differ.

**His handler took the book for him even as I was offering it to Kobe and Kobe's hand was outstretched...

New Print, Same Person

Okay, that sounds a bit too auspicious, like I've gotten that Wall Street Journal column I always wanted.

TONIGHT: Me in Portland. Will brave any and all snow, school delays be damned. Powell's, 7:30, more info at Blazer's Edge.

EVERY SUNDAY: Second Sporting News column, this one a work in progress that caps off the week while looking forward without too obviously rehashing previous posts. Please read and comment on this first go so they believe it's succeeding.

Will get you guys a real post Tuesday. In the meantime, feel free to indulge all your Amare fantasies in the comments section. That sentence begs the question of whether Amare is indeed, in all possible senses, basketball porn.

With These Hands

Yes, that's Kevin Pritchard and Mike Born, Portland's head of scouting, with the FD Book. Click to enlarge if you don't believe me. Thanks to Ben for passing along the photo, taken by Michael Tillery of the Portland Observer.

Between this and the upcoming Powell's shindig, I wish we had included more Blazers. And if this volume of ours is now being used as a scouting tool . . . I'll expect a call from someone's front office any day now.

Earlier: Three years of DIY All-Star anthems.

News, Fun, and Obstinance

This video is amazing. It's everything I'd want to ask Melo, plus a bizarre disclosure about what college team he favors—presumably in addition to Syracuse. I think.

Exciting developments on the still-glowing FD book front: In conjunction with Blazer's Edge, I'll be making a Portland appearance next month. All will be one at Burnside Powell's on 2/9 at 7:30, with further festivities to follow. More info here. Also, I'll be in Texas for a week in March. Any interest in an Austin or Dallas "reading"?

Earlier: A major post about everything and questions about our growing influence.

Finally, be prepared for some more ads popping up on the site in the near future. It will interfere with the design as little as possible and make my life easier.

Happened Upon Innocently

In the latest ESPN Mag's Josh Smith feature.

Nobody's Barrister Stays Flat

(Supposedly O.V. Wright's son. Spend a day trying to figure it out, once you've solved the Russell Westbrook Challenge.)

Not that I ever really feel like I'm a part of the NBA, but these last two weeks, I've definitely been hovering above it all, occasionally swooping in to either scavenge or dent my beak on the sidewalk. But soon this will all be over, and I will be reduced to that monk-like state of poring over games, rumors, and box scores as if my ka depended on it (or ba, who fucking knows).

But the purpose of this post is one last book tour announcement: Tonight, at Sugar Lounge in Red Hook, we'll provide running commentary on the Bulls/Knicks game, until everyone gets too drunk, we run out of things to say, and the whole thing deteriorates into a celebration of basketball in its least pure form. Hope you can make it!

IF YOU LOVE ME YOU WILL FIND A WAY

We'll probably post some audio/video from our other stops as it becomes available, because some of them were pretty good. For now, here I am appearing on the CBC program Q, discussing the subject of THE COMEBACK in sports and pop culture. My segment's about halfway in, I'm badly tired and have a cold that makes mics trembles. Might be some food for talk in here.

FD in the Flesh

Since Monday, the only basketball I've taken in is a nightly check of my fantasy team, which means I'm aware of Westbrook's tideswell and Garcia's return. Still, next week commences the FD East Coast tour—turns out most of it's around NYC, which I like to think makes it a special limited engagement by three psychopaths. You can catch the calendar here, but I thought I'd break it down a little more gradually, especially if any Philly people (sorry dudes, we tried) were planning to make a trip up.

12/2: Vassar College

All-out kid, no turnbacks. Full presentations from myself, Big Baby with the art, and Silverbird's stats. Then question and answer. Then watching some ball at a bar. You will never be more sick of us than after this night.

12/3: KGB Radio Hour with Mark Jacobson

Interview show at legendary literary hangout. We're a low priority, but will share the stage (and the eventual airspace) with Jules Feiffer and Steve Earle. If people show out for this one, it will impress these dudes of note.

12/4: Varsity Letters

Gelf's series that you probably know already. Fifteen minutes of us plus Q&A.

12/5: Georgetown

For D.C. and its assorted folks. Like Vassar, a thousand endless hours of estrangement. I'm counting on Steinz to get this party started.

12/9: Sugar Lounge

Just chill with us in Brooklyn if you hate readings. Originally the plan was to watch the Knicks but I suspect that might change.

12/10: Charles O. Dewey Middle School

Wherein we give back to the community.

UPDATE: If you need motivation to attend one of these events, consider that you might find yourself caught up in a fascinating conversation with Shoals about "single game indicators," such as the one that ultimately led to this post from Kevin Pelton at Basketball Prospectus. Can you really allow yourself to pass up that opportunity?

The Word Is Out

Artist Formerly Known as Miss Gossip, you're a national treasure. This is pure gold. I especially like the look on Sheed's face when he hears the phrase "Free Darko" for the second time.

Also, the whole damn gang comes together for a very special New York Times Q&A. Tragically, they edited out the part where we revealed that high-top Wallabees are the FD uni.

Thanks to everyone out who came out to the Redwood. The games were atrocious, but the company was good, conversation was at a high level, and I can only hope all our events go this well. Only basketball thought from tonight: Like I said, Oden's a work in progress. But things are happening. Fast. That's what I'm picking up on: A rumble too deep to ignore or nit-pick with human hands. Quoth Ben: "Crystallizing talent beats raw promise every time."

One Room to Another

Tonight is the Seattle launch party for the Almanac. I know it's unrealistic to ask all of you to come out here for it, but for those of you in the Northwest, here's the info:

FD Northwest Book Launch Thing

Redwood
514 East Howell Street
Capitol Hill

6-10PM

Early game is Rockets/Mavs, which should be okay, I guess. Second game is the far doper Blazers/Bulls. I'll have books for sale, our friends at Sports Northwest Magazine will be in the house, and there will hopefully be a lot of people drinking and talking ball.

Speaking of which, that was Greg Oden's coming-out party tonight. I can't stop making the Bill Russell comparison, which is obviously a style thing, not a prediction of 21,000 rings for Portland. Plus, only an idiot would not see the miles of implied qualifier in front of that. A few hours ago, I referred to him as "the richest man in the world's Tyson Chandler," which might be a little easier to stomach. Why am I flipping out? Because, at the risk of jinxing the PDX, the pop in his legs, in fact in his whole body, was astounding. I saw umpteen plays, some of them routine, that reminded me of a certain missed dunk. I don't want to say I suddenly find Dwight Howard less impressive, but he's definitely got to be redefined as a genre, not the only lineage going forward.

Also, these Warriors are simply ridiculous. Even weirder than I could've imagined. In retrospect, the 2006-07 team seems so. . . mainstream. Instead of churning out highlights, half of the playmaking or moves leave you totally confused, and the structural Nellie-logic is like a feral Moebius strip trying to chew off its own foot. Anthony Morrow only touches the ball with his fingertips. They are truly the Third World pirates of the NBA (that's not obvious, or racist, it's synchronicity).

UPDATE:

-My TSB two cents on Knicks/Celtics.

-Face revealed in a Seattle Weekly profile.

Oh, and also:



This should provide about 55 months of discussion right here. I, for one, was shocked to discover that swag could be swag, but also have negative characteristics. Yes, I am white and 30.

Humans Everywhere

Lots happening in the world right now. The Atlanta Hawks look like a top-4 Eastern Conference team with only four good players. Jamal Crawford looks like an all-star. Ziller reports that the Kings tonight will be starting Mikki Moore, Brad Miller, AND Jason Thompson.

And yes, we're still basking in the glow of the book. I want to thank the countless people who have given positive comments on the web today. I also found it appropriate that our first Amazon comment was by someone named J. Williams (Jay? Jayson? Jason?). Promises that all of this will end at some point and we will get back to strictly business, but for now it's still serious. We're promoting a movement. If you check the Freedarko book page, you will see that we are hitting the ground on the East Coast in early December for a slew of readings. Our West Coast and Midwest offices, however, are going to celebrate sooner.

First, Brown Recluse, Esq. & I (Dr. LIC) will be hosting the official Chicago FD Book Blast THIS THURSDAY at 7PM at

Pequod's Pizza
2207 N. Clybourn Ave.
773.327.1512

We're gonna have some sort of room to ourselves, but this is by no means a private event. Come out, drink a lot with us, the TNT games will be on plasma-screens, we're gonna hopefully have books for sale, and we're going to stage some sort of Lion's Club-esque tribal/communal reading where we Xerox a bunch of copies of the FD Manifesto and have you read along with the Recluse and me, call and response style.

Also, the pizza at this spot is no joke:


















THOSE EDGES ARENT BURNT--THATS CARAMELIZATION!!!!

Then, next Wednesday, November 19, Bethlehem Shoals will be holding it down for the entire Northwest coast at our Seattle event. He and Sports Northwest cordially invite you to an evening of basketball, drinking, and buying the book if you haven't already. There will be special guests, seventeenth-century relics, and a fun viewing menu of Mavs @ Rockets and Derrick Rose @ Portland. Also, you can watch Shoals try and figure out what the autograph of a fake name looks like.

Venue/time is as follows:

Redwood
514 E. Howell Street
5 p.m. till

As usual, email freedarko (at) gmail (dot) com with any info, and try to bring everyone you can to these events.

We All Are Columbus Day

The book is here! In stores now, out on the display tables in some, but still we thought we'd hit you with one more batch of excerpts. This one, on NBA players as city mayors, might be of especial interest to our core audience. Visit the book site for T-Mac and Amare chapters, and check out our fresh slide show on Slate. And even then, you'll barely have scratch the surface of our tome, so go cop that!

A few other things:

-I am kind of annoyed at my friend Paul Slocum for not mentioning to me this Dream Team vs. Croatia/Jesus and Mary Chain sound assemblage he's been working on. So up our alley it makes me faint.

-Watched the first three quarters of Suns/Grizzlies last night, after which it apparently got close. But I do feel qualified to state that teams seem to tire from playing Phoenix even though they shouldn't. Ty Keenan suggest it's Amare fatigue, and it's true, Amare is really a holy terror these days (even if only for half the game). However, I think it's most muscle memory, reflect brought on by the sight of Steve Nash dribbling down the court. Mayo, he's for real like Beasley and Rose. I like that, despite his profligate scoring, he also makes smart plays, resourceful plays, almost mature-beyond-his-years plays that bespeak a certain calm and wisdom. Maybe it's just the beard, which frames his face in way that's anything but post-Bron. I just get the feeling that he's never really in a hurry, and that when he starts going off, it's because he's decided the time is right. There's something Joe Johnson-esque to it.

(I haven't watched nearly enough of him this year, though, so rip away at that. I just can't begin to explain how thrilled I am at what impact him, Rose, and Beasley have made already. In a weird way, it sort of brings down Durant's luster—partly by association with last year's disastrous, over-hyped class, partly in that they've burst upon the scene in true phenom style. Though KD did have quite a game last night, a effortlesly inflamed as ever).

BUY THE BOOK!!!!

The Macrophenomenal Website (And All It Contains)

Ordinarily, we'd take Opening Day to giggle, shake, and look forward to another season of NBA action. But this year, we already went and presaged the whole thing. In case you care, Bulls/Bucks is the real game to watch, and if you've got any fine wines stashed for the occasion, save them for Wednesday's Knicks/Suns answer-fest.

Instead, WELCOME TO OUR BOOK'S HIGHLY ADVANCED WEBSITE. Of special interest shall be the media page, which has embeddable preview widgets and our theme song. And kindly swing by Ye Olde FD Imperial Outlet, where you can pre-order new shirts and limited edition prints of the book's art. In the future leading up to the book's release, there will be more previews, some other media surprises, and the long-rumored Silverbird Stats Corner.

Anyway, feel free to turn this into an open thread about whatever, and we'll be around soon with a new post. Hopefully, this other site will tide you over, and maybe even convince a few more people to buy the book itself.

FD Ground Game Prep

When you put out a book, you go forth. That's why, once we've all done our share of post-election celebrating, screaming, or cackling, and after Thanksgiving dies down, Big Baby Belafonte, Silverbird5000, and I will be roaming the East Coast. And potentially Dr. LIC and The Recluse, too. We're in the process of finalizing our schedule, and working out our costume changes, but figured we'd put out an open call here for any college students who'd like to see FreeDarko give a lecture at their campus. Preferably the kind that goes through the student activities committee and pays for our gas money. You'll get to see us try and make a book reading interesting, ask us questions, and then find us a bar that's showing that night's Grizzlies game.

So if this sounds like something that might interest you, and you're in a position to set it up for somewhere between 12/1 and 12/12, shoot us a brief message at freedarko at gmail dot com. Our lives don't depend on you, but it could be fun for all involved.

And if you don't happen to live around there, fear not. We will be gracing other parts of the country with our presence, so stay tuned.

A Sweet Ordeal For All of Us to Share

Since the book is now actually, finally done, I'll come forth and ask myself: Please feel free to pre-order from Amazon. There's some disinformation on that page, and the cover still might change, but the time has sort of come. So let me offer several compelling reasons for you to cop:

Because our sources told us who "Kaiser" is (see final graf).

Because there are drawings everywhere.

Because there are a ton of those Style Guides that everyone loved so much.

Because it's got some of our most cohesive writing about most of our favorite players' careers.

Because it has graphs that will change the universe.

Because if you think the site is too weird, or not weird enough, there's much for you in here.

Because your girl will like it.

Because longtime readers will recognize some themes, but be taken aback by others.

Because it has a glossary.

Because it's like the blog, but with illustrations, an editor, and lots of elaborate set-pieces we could never pull off on a web page.

Because I once told Dr. LIC that "this book makes our website look like an outhouse."

Because it explains my dip in output this past season.

Because Arenas wrote the foreword.

Because it's now going to be a hardcover, for the same price.

Because you save a bunch of money if you buy now.

Because these playoffs may be sour, but salvation is on the way.