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I think we finally have our Psychological Man. His name, much to my utter surprise and possible chagrin, is DeMarcus Cousins.
As long as this site's been live, we've harped on player psychology. Not "what is a point guard thinking in the clutch", but as best we can, tried to determine what makes these dudes tick. Especially when, as it so very not the case in other sports, uniform execution simply won't do, and the decisions players make—their respective styles, if you will—can't help but reveal something about them as people. It may be only a thin breach here and there, through which little light is admitted, or gaping blast of individuality, but either way there's humanity in them there ball players.
Somewhere out there, a unified theory of FreeDarko presents itself in the heavens. For now, I'd go so far as to say that style and personality are the strong and weak force of our NBA cosmology, which is why no amount of boring-ass critiques will make me lose interest in Kobe Bryant. It's also why Gilbert Arenas was for so very long our patron saint. His entire public existence depended on either riding or struggling against that interpretive undercurrent "quirk". With the locker room incident and FINGER GUNZ, it went so far as to suggest that, in fact, he had been (figuratively, duh) swept out to sea. At some point, the joke ceases to be on the rest of the world, and out-there behavior becomes either sad or self-destructive.
That's also what happened with Michael Beasley, whatever happened with Beasley. He entered the draft speaking with uncommon candor—which in retrospect, turned out to be a "don't let me do this" cry for someone to keep him in school. At the time, though, it really seemed as if teams were being forced to confront the possibility that players could be weird, and yet still thrive. Arenas was a high-wire act, someone who played up his shtick for commercial gains and then found himself seemingly fall victim to his own act. Beasley entered the league not playing pranks and committing absurd gestures, but simply refusing to make sense. Again, at the moment it's hard to say he was taking a stand for anything but his own immaturity. And I mean that in the most light, sympathetic way possible.
All of which brings us to DeMarcus Cousins. You all know the story by now. Cousins was, all the way back to his high school days, branded "a problem". He didn't have Arenas's charm or Beasley's enigmatic qualities. DeMarcus Cousins had, as they say, an attitude. He was not a high-character guy. Supposedly, he fought with coaches, loafed, and wouldn't stay in shape. Whatever had happened at Kentucky, where he proved so dominant that John Wall was often relegated to a supporting role, was fool's gold compared to the monster he would become as a pro. It didn't help that, in many ways, the most apt comparisons the pros offered were Zach Randolph, Eddy Curry, and reaching back a ways, Derrick Coleman (that one more than ever after Vegas, but I'm getting ahead here).
I was staunchly anti-Cousins, though mostly owing to the fact that I thought his college career was a mirage and his height not what it turned out to be. When the whole thing got all weird and paternalistic, I realized which side justice smiled upon. Cousins was trapped in a strange rhetorical bind best described as "worst available". He was the bad seed of the draft, the high-risk, high-reward guy who got all the ink, and of course. Not every draft class is so lucky as to have one. But once anyone can be stuck in the "bad kid" or "problem" category, they will catch hell up until they prove otherwise.
Beasley, incidentally, saw his stock of evil rise (fall?) as the draft approach. Draw your own cause and effect conclusions here, but Cousins loomed larger and larger as a talent and became more and more of a potential thug creature. Don't blame FreeDarko; we dispatched Joey Litman to meet Cousins and observe him acting like the kid he was. Beasley had said "I'm a kid", but for him that opened the door out onto all sorts of weirdness. Cousins really just came off as sweet, likable, and hardly the kind of ass who would warrant such premature nay-saying.
Fast forward to the Vegas league, where Cousins's debut was awaited almost as eagerly as Wall's. When he proved even more of a force (granted, Wall had very little to prove), and flashed skills and awareness that had once been mere fluff in the mouths of his biggest supporters, Cousins instantly became the second-biggest star among the rookies. That attitude we heard so much about? Damn right it's there. But it's fire, intensity, and the desire to flat-out destroy his opponent, especially other big men. It's exactly what so many other bigs are lacking, and why they end up a very different kind of bust. Cousins rages because he cares. It's that simple. To say that his personality can be rough or stubborn at times is to say that he's a gamer. Attitude on the court, if it's this kind of edge and determination, is the exact opposite of what off-court attitude will sow.
And it's not like Cousins is lacking in self-awareness, something we can debate all day about Arenas or Beasley. The Timberwolves, of course, tried to throw him off by antagonizing and harassing him, expecting him to crack and show the lunatic no one wanted to draft (including them). Except as soon as Cousins caught on, he disengaged himself and opened scoffed at the tactic. Does this sound like a wayward brat to you?
All of which brings us back to psychology. Cousins did, indeed, possess many of qualities NBA scouts feared in him. Except he possessed them in a way that manifested itself primarily on the court, where they were a decidedly good thing. Differentiating between on and off-court personality, as well as mapping out their intersection, has never been more important than now. What's more, the "good kid"/"problem" binary has revealed itself to be, if not a farce, at least utterly simplistic, the kind of clap-trap that no journalist—much less a scout—should bother to hang his hat on.
Cousins might seem to call into question whatever it is that Arenas and Beasley represented. On the contrary, in his contradictions, he make more urgent than ever the need to develop a more psychologically sophisticated approach to assessing prospects. Arenas asserted the right to be kooky, unpredictable, and obsessive; Beasley, incoherent, compelling and loud. That was a fair description of each at their best, and if their stories ended today, each would serve as a cautionary tale against this kind of player. Cousins, though, makes the case for the development of something new, something that might actually better equip a team for an Arenas or Beasley—that is, anyone other than an outright bust.
Earlier today, Ziller wrote about Rashad McCants. McCants, it seems, was Cousins before Cousins, and had the bad luck to not be born very tall. No one has yet been able to tell me exactly what it is that makes McCants so horrible and unemployable. Maybe he's not the best defender, and there have been some confounding incidents with scheduling and contracts (like TZ's post today). But McCants himself believes he had been blacklisted, and I'm inclined to believe he's not far off. McCants deserves a chance to succeed based on his abilities, not some shit-poor conception of what makes for good and bad soldiers in a mechanized world that never really existed in the first place.
Perspire all over the FreeDrafto mock. Go behind the scenes of DeMarcus Cousins getting clothes, and feel his fun. Know that I suffer. Just finished a column that didn't turn out like I wanted it to, and a movie (Fallen Angel) that left me with nothing but a crush on a flimsy character.
But fashion beckons, fashion waits for no man, and it's my favorite time of year: time to critique these draft portraits, sun.
There are actually a lot of white people in this draft, but Aldrich is the one who is so white no one wants to talk about him. Good thing he's embraced that, wearing a vest made from an heirloom kilt. That it's a fitted vest really takes this look into OWN IT territory. Who wore fitted vests, ever, except for, like, the Crusaders? Love the use of ears as an accessory.
Seriously, what the fuck am I supposed to say about this? He looks like Venom ate Urkel and decided to invite you to his house, which is either inside a pumpkin or on Mars. Actually, when I see it spelled out like that, I think they really nailed Aminu. Mostly the clothes are a prop—"look how fucking strange I can act while dressed by a stylist." Except one thing stands out: why would they put him in what looks like Keens? So he wouldn't slip in his pumpkin? I should end this on a positive note: I always say, if you only get your pants tailored in one place, make it the kneecaps.
If the goal of this outfit was to make DeMarcus Cousins look like my father, a sixty-two year-old academic, it succeeds. The equation of dribbling with sensitive and intelligent is pretty clever, too. There's definitely a gay Mr. Potato head quality to this photo, but at the same time, you can tell that Cousins is enjoying himself. And yeah, there's some shock value there. That alone makes this a winning photo.
Luke Babbitt sort of seems like he got the same direction Aminu did, maybe, "pretend you just opened the door for some kids trick-or-treating." Except in Luke's case, I just think he's telling me the cautionary tale of Frankenstein. Cautionary because you should hope you never get dug up and stuck on a reanimated monster because you might somehow be award of what's going on. Clothes would like great on Frankenstein, but basically just say "I can't do any more coke tonight, I'm applying to law school next spring."
And yes, shit for face, I know Frankenstein is actually the scientist. Who would you rather have a funny-sounding name go with, a mad scientist or a monster?
No, Ed Davis. You're not trick or treating, you're the adult on the other side of the door. See, this is why he's a shitty pick. Oh, and this is the kind of sweater I see in pictures of me when I was six, and have to stop myself from asking my mother if it's in the attic somewhere because I'd like to have it now. I detect a slight hint of a gigantic sheriff's star belt. I don't think it's there, but that would be the weirdest thing in the world. Maybe they had to bribe him into posing.
Someone should get fired for this one. That's like the worst cut of dress shirt to not tuck in. Way to show your maturity, Favors. At least you kind of look like Jay Williams, which means we have to find this shot endearing. Oh, and I'd advise leaving Aminu's pumpkin before he gets back and finds you. I hear he's saving up dead birds to play with.
Those pants are way too shiny. It kind of looks like he really wishes he were a judge, but instead got stuck on Broadway.
Did you know that was Paul George? I still don't.
This Gordon Hayward outfit was brought to you by Buffalo Exchange. And not a good one.
No one is even fucking with Wes Johnson, and not for best dressed, either. Pee Wee Herman + Dick Tracy + Willy Loman. And those shoes are slick enough to show he's in on the joke. I have major reservations about him greeting kids on Halloween like this because 1) he looks kind of scary 2) his penis is plainly outlined. But whatever. Somehow, Johnson looks really young in that weird Pee Wee way, which isn't good for the sake of greeting children, but reminds you that twenty-two is not old AT ALL. That said, you don't get that sense of humor from playing one year of college ball. You need to see at least one improv group performance.
I would like to know if the ball is coming or going, and what that represents. Or if it's a demonstration from a show about time travel.
Greg Monroe wants you to know that he is all grown up. And that if this basketball thing doesn't work out, he'll walk across the street and get a job training motivational speakers. Sometimes, looking normal is the best way for a pro athlete to make you realize how much more important he is than you.
First of all, Patrick Patterson, look in the mirror after you piss and pull your pants up. Secondly, you look like you're trying on clothes from two years ago you might get rid of. That or it's some recent immigrant group I can't quote put my finger on. Strangely, a reasonable chain would've made a lot of sense here.
Blah blah blah, I'm Evan Turner, I'm the second pick in the draft, I'm in Aminu's pumpkin but it's really just an orange background to represent basketball. They showed me Adam Morrison's outfit from 2006 to try and loosen me up, but i thought they were telling me to change. So I did. It was okay. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to punch myself in the nuts, or maybe the gut, and miss.
This is a really scary photo.
I doubt he picked the J. It's a little busy; I know he couldn't have gone full white on white, or else people might have thought it was a reference to that Nike ad where Chris Paul and everyone else plays in a hangar with those astronaut warm-ups. I really like the pants, the tie and shirt are okay, they just should have gone with a simpler cardigan. The more I like at the tie/shirt, the more new wave they're starting to look. Or cruise ship waiter. Whatever. We all know Wall can rock a tux with authority from those Derby pictures. Would like to know what shoes he's wearing.
This outfit actually looks better in some other shots where he's got his somber face. But I like that this is an action-formal pose (who the fuck thought of that) where Wall looks like he might actually drive to the basket at any moment, while at the same time kind of having fun with the absurdity of the pose. It's like he can't help himself on either count. Good signs, no?
FreeDrafto Eats Bugs: 2010 Mock Drafting Position Paper
This one is all-human, all the time, but it's so much more necessary than the one with lizard birds. No one knows where this draft is headed. You heard Clinton say it this morning: When the war has left all peoples dirty and confused, it's time to look skyward. So we did, and this mock revealed itself. Participants: Eric Freeman (Ty Keenan), Brown Recluse, Esq., Tom Ziller, and myself (Shoals)....with a special cameo appearance from Joey!
1. Wizards- John Wall
It is not without reservations that the Wizards make this selection. The only other time two prospects as hugely-hyped as Wall and Strasburg showed up in the same market this close together? That would be Ewing and Gooden in New York. The last time our nation's capitol welcomed one? I'm thinking Barack Hussein Obama. The Wiz are getting either the NBA's answer to Doc Gooden or the sport's very own terrorist Jimmy Carter. Throw a returning Gilbert Arenas into the mix, and you can see how tragic downfall is practically in the cards here. Good thing Washington is also an Illuminati hot spot, and Wall (along with pal LeBron and Z.O.G.-ster Drake) a card-carrying member, so some conspiracy of other will make sure things go the right way. (BS)
2. Sixers - Derrick Favors
Here are Marreese Speights's stats for his last five games in 2010.
4 points, 2 rebounds, 0 blocks
4 points, 5 rebounds, 1 block
22 points, 5 rebounds, 1 block
4 points, 1 rebound, 0 blocks
23 points, 8 rebounds, 2 blocks
This is not what is typically considered consistent post play. Elton Brand may be fully healthy again, but he turns 32 during next season. Spencer Hawes is not the answer. With Idguodala and Thad Young on the wing, there's just not a huge need for Evan Turner. I know you don't draft for need at the #2 spot, but Favors is looking like one of the best young post players to come along in the past decade. Not even Doug Collins could screw this up. (BRE) 3. Nets - Evan Turner
Thorn figures that Devin Harris can vacillate between boring and All-Star from night to night, he needs a constant firebrand in the backcourt with him. When Harris is on, it's time for the Nets to milk him for the win. When Harris is asleep, let Turner try to make magic. It won't always work -- conflagrations are always one breeze away from out-of-control -- but it's a better chance than, say, Courtney Lee gave them. (TZ)
4. Timberwolves - Al-Farouq Aminu
Yes, I know, point guards, David Kahn, Ricky Rubio, insanity all around. But while last year's draft focused on a single position, Kahn's real m.o. has been to take supposedly nice guys and antagonize them to the point of hostility. Enter Aminu, an enigmatic scorer whose Twitter account depicts him as a misogynistic jerk whose idea of a confession involves telling people he likes to draw. He is difficult to handle both on and off the court, for friend and foe alike. He's the opposite of Minnesota Nice and the perfect expression of Kahn's id. (EF)
5. Kings - DeMarcus Cousins
With the trade for Samuel Dalembert and several other big men already in town, the Kings can take Cousins and let him ease into a starring role while not carrying the weight of a downtrodden franchise's expectations. But enough about basketball -- the real story here is off the court. Unbeknownst to most, Sean May, Donte Greene, and Jason Thompson have created the league's preeminent comedy trio, a basketball version of the Three Stooges where most of the jokes involving saying "pause" and making silly viral videos. Cousins isn't the funniest man around, but the Sacramento trio can teach him a few things about lightening up and taking things in stride. That might not seem like the best thing for someone with a reputation for not taking his conditioning seriously, but there's no proof that being silly in the locker room carries over to the hardwood. This light atmosphere could be just what Cousins needs. (EF)
6. Warriors - Latavious Williams
Kelenna Azubuike-Reggie Williams-Latavious Williams, the Holy D-League Trinity! Latavious has more pro experience than any rookie but the Kentucky products, and it'll show as Williams runs out to a brief lead in the R.O.Y. horse race. The real clincher is that last year, Larry Riley learned you can draft a player who is both productive and sane. While Latavious might be a slight stretch at No. 6, the Warriors can't be too sure about the other prospects on the board in terms of friendliness. There are no Corey Brewers left in 2010. (TZ)
7. Pistons - Avery Bradley
A 6'3" defensive minded combo guard who can score when he needs to? Sound like anyone we know? All players turned executives are narcissists, and that includes even the stoic Joe D. He will not be able to pass up the opportunity to draft a player who seems practically molded in his image, even though the Pistons do need a big man more than they need another guard. Pairing Bradley with Rodney Stuckey would give the Pistons a versatile backcourt with two players who can handle, pass, score, and play defense. It's really too bad they paid Ben Gordon all that money last year.... (BRE)
8. Clippers - Eric Bledsoe
Outside of Wall, this draft belongs to big men, or small forwards who play like big men, or big men who probably will end up small forwards, or centers we keep forgetting to call that. It's all just too weird. How about a good old-fashioned run on tweener guards to settle our collective stomach? Bledsoe came to Kentucky a point guard before Wall intervened, so it's not like he's coming for Eric Gordon's position. That dude was in last year's televised Dunk-In. He's as good as gold. If Bledsoe can revive his PG chops, then maybe Baron Davis's annual injury will come a little early this year, the Clips will be starting Bledsoe, Gordon, Outlaw, Griffin, and Kaman. They'll be printing up "Eric Squared: Mathematically Aware" shirts, become the new Warriors (with Baron transitioning to assistant coach), the new old Clippers, and best of all, enter the summer with room for eight max deals that will never happen. (BS)
9. Jazz - Patrick Patterson
I want someone to tell me why Patterson doesn't garner David West comparisons, or why I can't stop thinking that he, not Deval Patrick, is the son of a longtime Arkestra member. Sloan in his old age has taken to seeing double in the post, and before Pat Pat got his range on, he was more Millsap than Boozer. Now imagine twin Millsaps, just with one of them gone to finishing school, stretching the floor more than Carlos ever could, and having played babysitter already for a young O.J. Mayo and DeMarcus Cousins. Boozer and his back tattoo can burn in Miami like he never happened. Best of all, there's a great Nike web ad waiting to be made that brings in the other great Pat Pattersons: the legendary fast-bowler, the Canadian wrestler, some baseball player, and a duo of Southern pols. (BS)
10. Pacers - Gordon Hayward
The Pacers are on a quest to become a bizarro version of the '07 Hawks, with the same mix of versatile 6'9" guys, given a generous coat of whitewash. Throw Granger, Dunleavy, Jr., and Hayward out on the court together, and distinctions among positions melt away. Who's the small forward, who's the shooting guard? Who cares? We're playing basketball here, guys! It goes without saying that Hayward's a hometown hero straight out of Hoosiers, and he should have the opposite effect on Indy ticket sales than Stephen Jackson did. (BRE)
11. Hornets - Ryan Richards
It's little known that British Petroleum has taken over the Hornets front office to go with the rest of Gulf Coast, or is at least that team's best hope for financial solvency next season and thus has a seat at the table. The United Kingdom needs some rollicking good press to get a berth in the 2012 Olympic tournament in London, and Chris Paul is the ticket. Richards hails from Britain and could be the next springy forward to throw down a succession of CP3's alley-oops. Of course, 10 or 20 forwards and centers on the board could do it better than Richards, who is more a Channing Frye than a Tyson Chandler. But that's why BP took over! If you want something done in a very specific but wrong way, you've got to do it yourself. (TZ)
12. Grizzlies - Ekpe Udoh
Pity the Memphis frontcourt. Marc Gasol, in all his burly bearness, has become one of the most promising young centers in the league, but no one knows just how good he is because the Grizzlies often didn't even registered on League Pass this year. Zach Randolph made an All-Star team, and now all people can talk about is the fact that he's a major marijuana kingpin in Indianapolis, which is at least a better option in a dull city than meth. What they and the rest of the team need is a live wire, someone who can attract attention even as he doesn't necessarily steal minutes. Udoh, a shot-blocker extraordinaire with less-than-graceful offensive skills, can be exactly that. (EF)
13. Raptors - Ed Davis
It is commonly accepted these days that Chris Bosh will not play in Toronto next season. As such, the Raptors may feel the need to try to replace him in this draft, even though you can't find a player of this caliber at No. 13. Unfortunately for Toronto, Ed Davis has too much in common with Bosh for them to pass him up. He's tall, thin, and left-handed, all things that helped define Bosh. Of course, he was also a notorious underachiever at North Carolina who's almost all hype and possibly even less polished than Brandan Wright, the Tar Heels' last supposed Bosh clone. I don't expect a team to pass up on the spitting image of their last franchise player. So let Davis stand as a lesson to any team who is tempted by these similarities in the future. The past is no safe place to dwell. (EF)
14. Rockets - Luke Harangody
Harangody's stats are off the charts, and Houston's never been afraid of an undersized player. Big-school talisman has never been Morey's M.O., but you need to push back against the myth now and then just to keep the myth growing. Or in other words, if Morey always picked a guard like Aaron Brooks or an ironic athlete like Chase Budinger, observers would start expecting the GM to always look to cull players who have fallen too far. Harangody is the exact opposite. It's like reaching up into the clouds and coming down with a handful of quartz. (TZ)
15. Bucks - Luke Babbitt
If Luke Babbitt hasn't read the satirical Sinclair Lewis novel that bears his name, he better get started. Even though it was written almost a century ago, it'll give Young Luke a good idea of where he's headed in Milwaukee. Middle of America, middle of the Eastern Conference, middle of the first round of the draft. On the court, the Bucks badly need a scoring forward, and Babbitt's one of the best available. He would be a big upgrade on Carlos Delfino or Luc Mbah a Moute, and he's certainly a more dynamic scorer. Plus, it would give Luke Ridnour another guy named Luke to hang out with. (BRE)
16. Timberwolves - Xavier Henry
The Triangle needs shooters and post passers to live. Rambis refuses to acknowledge the existence of Kevin Love. No one else on the team fits either of these bills. Ergo, Henry is the new franchise player. (BS)
17. Bulls - Greg Monroe
Chicago would love to see Monroe fall this far, especially when he's projected to go as high as fifth. I like the nickname "Quiet Storm" for this guy, and he'll go well with Joakim "Act a Fool" Noah up front. And, since Rose can't move the ball for shit, it'll help tremendously to get a big man with Monroe's playmaking abilities. The best part, though, is that finally this "LeBron should go to Chicago, it's not a blank slate, there's talent there" argument isn't the stupidest thing in the world or dependent on blind faith in Taj Gibson. Did you hear that, writers, pundits, columnists who look weird with full bodies, website and billboard proprietors, and robots designed to do laundry? THE BULLS WILL HAVE A YOUNG NUCLEUS. Monroe must go to Chicago, so that these past ills will be repaired, and a large percentage of people into basketball can, at least to history, not have appeared to have been totally fucking stupid. (BS)
18. Heat - Wesley Johnson
The slide of the draft! Johnson immediately becomes a factor in the 2010 free agent wars, giving Wade his much-needed running mate on the wing, the Pippen to his Jordan. Game-wise, Johnson is probably closer to Shawn Marion than Pippen, with his superior athleticism and strong rebounding from the wing position. He's clearly one of the best all-around talents in the draft and with four years (including the redshirt year) of college ball under his belt, also one of the most experienced. Truth be told, that's probably why he slid this far. At almost 23 years of age, Johnson is more than a year older than Kevin Durant and Derrick Rose and four years older than Derrick Favors. (BRE)
19. Celtics - Hassan Whiteside
The word on Hassan is that he's not terribly bright. As soon as Ray Allen leaves in free agency, the remaining stars of the Celtics will have a similar stigma attached. You can be brilliant on the court but light in the pocket protector, and the success of Garnett, Perkins and Rondo speaks to that. Is that a reason for Danny Ainge to take a chance on Whiteside? If not, his disarming sartorial taste is. (TZ)
20. Spurs - Tibor Pleiss
The idea of the Spurs taking a foreign guy no one's heard of is a cliche at this point, but this time there's a purpose beyond getting a solid player. Anyone who watched the Spurs this year saw an old team getting by on the strength of their dwindling talent and good old-fashioned veteran know-how. The mystique is fading, and when that happens, sometimes you have to resort to smoke and mirrors. Pleiss is an odd prospect who probably shouldn't even be in the draft -- he's only been a contributor for about a year and is a strong rebounder still more renowned for his mobility and 7-0 height. But his on-court skills are honestly insignificant to this pick. When R.C. Buford picks Pleiss, he'll make it clear that these are the same Spurs up to their old tricks. If you refuse to acknowledge the decline, it does not exist. (EF)
21. Thunder - Larry Sanders
Behold, the man whose launched a thousand internet jokes. There's the HBO show of the same name, still the best comedy the channel has ever produced, and even Larry Saunders, obscure 70s soul singer. Sanders is sure to be a hit all over the blogs, so there's no better team for him to join than the favorite squad of everyone who ever bought a ticket for Blogs with Balls. It's a match made in heaven. Hey now! (EF)
22. Trailblazers - Sylven Landesburg
Kevin Pritchard needs one last chest-beating "conquest" on his way out, so he takes Landesburg, an American-born kid who played at Virginia but still can be a Euro stash for a year or two, thanks to an Israeli passort. You'd expect Pritchard, with a pretty full roster, to pick a cat like Kevin Seraphin. But Landesburg is more of a sleeper, and thus a victory for the legacy of the Pritchslap. (TZ)
23. Timberwolves - Devin Ebanks
The Lakers won a title with two enigmatic, frustrating, captivating heart-breakers from Queens, and that's the model Rambis is working off of. So naturally, he take Ebanks. (Joey) 24. Hawks - Paul George
His name isn't real. The man is barely real. You cannot find him with Google or telepathy. What kind of real human being grows up a Clippers fan, unless they're Andre Miller, who has spent his whole life auditioning for the role of animated sitcom? This is some Bourne Identity shit, and between now and the time you finish this sentence, George may very well have jumped up into the number two spot, impregnated the owner of that team's wife, and fallen back here for that. Oh, and he's long, athletic, multi-skilled, and either lazy, homey, laidback, or hard to read. He's in the fine tradition of Joe Johnson, whom he'll replace, and maybe even the rightful heir to T-Mac's "wolf in a rocking chair" fury of those first great Orlando years. But this too, might be a disguise. Paul George might be standing behind you as you read this, having needed just . . . one . . . more . . . sentence on here to load the dart gun and carry out his latest secret contract killing. Possible marketing campaign: Something Beatles-related that costs $75 million to license. (BS)
25. Grizzlies - Damion James
When I was at a UT game last season, I was stunned to find out that Damion Jones was still at Austin. No, I don't watch college ball, and I didn't stick around that university to finish my PhD. Fuck you, it's a touchy subject. This should have made me feel young, but instead, it made me feel really old. That's a good look for the Grizzlies. See, watch: This is going to be O.J. Mayo's third season in the league? Aren't you surprised? Don't you respect him more? Don't you feel worse about yourself, and thus less likely to trash the Grizz, more ready to give them their due? Jones is more than a big man. He's a talisman. (BS) 26. Thunder - Kevin Seraphin
In the Old Testament, a seraphim is an angel who protects the throne of God. Now, I'm not saying that Durant is God, but then again, I'm not saying he isn't. At any rate, he does need some protecting. As was painfully obvious during their series with the Lakers, the Thunder need more big bodies in the post. With Sanders at #21, they got length and with this pick they get bulk. At 6'9", 265 lbs, Seraphim is physically ready to get in an NBA game and bang some bodies right now. Oklahoma City might actually be the ideal place for Seraphin, since the team already has two French speakers of African descent in Thabo Sefolosha and Serge Ibaka. And I hear that Durant is a really friendly guy. (BRE) 27. Nets - Lance Stephenson
The Nets need a NYC-bred star on their roster before the move to Brooklyn, so the powers that be are willing to overlook that Stephenson is a walking ellipsis who may never start an NBA game, let alone an NBA All-Star Game. Whatever, at least Stephenson has a fellow (albeit vastly more skilled) traveller in Terrence Williams, and I have a suspicion Stephenson can chop it up with Yi Jianlian for days. Similar lives, Lance and Yi. (TZ) 28. Grizzlies - Elliot Williams
Williams is one of many prospects -- including No. 12 pick Ekpe Udoh -- to reject a workout offer in Memphis. I honestly have no idea why this is the case; they're not the most attractive team in the league, certainly, but prospects don't continually turn down invitations from the Clippers or Warriors. Williams was the oddest holdout considering that he's by no means a first-round lock and played his college ball for the Memphis Tigers. This is patently ridiculous, and he's the perfect target for the Grizzlies to take a stand, draft him, and show all future prospects that their pre-draft decisions are inconsequential. Take that, asshole. Now enjoy the end of the bench and your frequent guest spots on that Jason Lee cop show. (EF)
29. Magic - Cole Aldrich
Aldrich needs to go to Orlando for two reasons. First, he can act as the perfect straight man to Dwight Howard, who has had a difficult time playing off Marcin Gortat's arsenal of Polish jokes (he's reclaiming them!). Never fear with Aldrich, because his humor consists of pushing bagel dogs in and out of the bread and listening to old Jerky Boys cassettes. Oh, and he is also mute. Elsewhere, Aldrich will help fix the team's big man logjam by often being mistaken for Gortat. That way, whenever one of them enters the game, half the crowd will assume it's the other, creating a situation in which half the fanbase will think each gets regular minutes. It's a plan with the opportunity for zany misunderstandings and classic hijinx. It'll be the perfect inspiration for Dwight's first starring role in direct-to-DVD film. (EF) 30. Wizards - Daniel Orton
Wall would love to take Cousins to D.C. with him, but Orton will have to do. For the Wizards front office, it's just a rouse to make Andray Blatche look motivated by comparison. Little do they know it will backfire when Orton invokes the Myth of the Next DeAndre Jordan and dunks everything within six feet of the rim. (TZ)
If you're like me, you spent Tuesday afternoon dancing in the rain to Young Jeezy records with DeMarcus Cousins. If you're not, then you didn't, and you missed something tender.
In he strode, a man seven feet if he was an inch. In, too, strode his mother, his handlers, some handlers of the handlers, some random white women who seemed to be daughters and other familial relations of the handlers, and a phalanx of press people trying to get a handle on who was to handle which handler. ESPN was there, too. Of course. Diddy was not. Diddy was late, and the Diddy handler got on the Diddy phone to find out where the Diddy was. He wasn't picking up. Just how important was this athlete event to Diddy if he couldn't be reached? Wait a minute--why was Diddy even involved with athletes in the first place? The consensus landed on "competes for the same women."
On an otherwise sunny day, this storm had gathered suddenly, and it quickly washed away anything that wasn't tied down or cordoned off. The Italian man escorted by his mother and his girlfriend anxiously looked on before running his hand across a linen button up and bolting. In that moment, his hand streaked across the neatly folded crease as his mind arrived at the conclusion that more shopping wouldn't be worth the discomfort. How was he going to get at those summer suits while the storm consumed the one corner where he needed to be? Which salesperson would even notice him? Surely not the Fonzworth-looking motherfucker in his striped pink shirt and paisley bow tie who had drafted in the storm's wake before emerging on the other side to start measuring and accessorizing. Neither would the store manager, her costume chains hanging from her neck as she hung onto the big man, never leaving his side. It was a minor maelstrom; don't be fooled by the soothing wood paneling or the oppressive gentility of acting all bourgie.
Like any volatile summer weather, the storm subsided as quickly as it had swelled. The big man disappeared behind a mirror, the handlers went with him, the white girls got comfortable on the couches, the Diddy to-do was laid to rest with a few key strokes, and suddenly, all that remained were press folks staring at each other, muted Diddy videos on the big screen, and a steady soundtrack of Jeezy, Wayne, and Gucci. The calm came after the storm.
There is a fine line between knowing humor and mocking insult. Almost anything worth joking about forces the distinction upon us, and the NBA Draft may be sport's Aristocrats. For years, the NBA cognescenti have annually celebrated the draft's earnest appeal while also reveling in its absurd pathologies. Forecasting the picks and mocking the fashion are pretty much neck and neck. In fact, Draft analysis has taken on its own, sadly meta form of this comedic duality: for as much fun as we have speculating about how the Timberwolves will be reconfigured, there is almost as much fun generating hysteria for its own sake. The cheering and jeering easily intermingle.
For at least one day, Tuesday was meant to tip the scales back in favor of the earnest. Tired of lame jokes about Chopper suits and sensing the opportunity to facilitate good, wholesome, old-fashioned American opulence, an events company had organized a proper suiting event at the Sean John store on Fifth Avenue in New York. The premise was simple: this year's top picks would come to the House of Diddy, where they would be fitted for a sensible, well-tailored suit to be worn on Draft night. After selecting their pinstripes and matching their ties, the players would then be led through a small flea market of luxury retailers. The players could learn about Hommage shaving kits, Maserati sports cars, Mohegan Sun gambling packages, and Steinway Lyngdorf entertainment systems. The companies participating in the event could hope to earn some new customers.
Now you know why there was an emphasis placed on the word "meant" in the preceding paragraph. Reclaiming the Draft's attendant culture from the comedians who never tire of the sometimes ugly class- and race-tinged humor is an admirable intention. Doing so by asking the players to buy Sean John suits and listen to pitches for $200,000 stereo equipment belies some miscalculation in execution. I have no doubt that Evan Turner may truly want a 105" plasma television on a yacht with hidden surround-sound speakers. However, the absurdity of the entire premise--look at these average Joes buying average suits...and fantastically unobtainable everything else--is inescapable for anyone who will never be transformed into a multimillionaire overnight. Without graduating from college. Before ever reporting to work. Or even turning twenty-one.
And yet, there was dancing.
Lost amid the imposing size of the seven-footer, one DeMarcus Cousins, and the island-nation population that follows him is the disarming realization that DeMarcus Cousins is only a nineteen-year-old. As his giant right hand swallows yours in a handshake; as his stoic expression makes you wonder if the not-so-quiet whisper campaign about his attitude has some merit; as his sheepish posture while ambling around the store suggests that he may not be ready for what awaits him, you realize that this still is a kid. Not even the most thoughtful, measured, detailed Draft analysis serves as an adequate substitute for meeting the players, for seeing them in person.
The mere nature of reading about a Cousins or a John Wall on a blog, to say nothing of The New York Times' website, removes a player from everyday experience and elevates him as a celebrity. In turn, he is dehumanized ever so slightly. They all are. The process is only exacerbated as Draft conversations steal these children from our everyday vocabulary and insert them into the nonce lexicon of the NBA. No one describes his friends as long, questions a coworker for his sticktoittiveness, or wishes that his dad were more coachable. And similarly, no one ever says that DeMarcus Cousins has an innocent smile or is incredibly polite.
He does, and he is, though. That, ultimately, was what stood out most in the Sean John store, and it redeemed an event that couldn't help itself. (The players arrived in courtesy Maseratis.) Had Cousins picked an eight-button suit, it wouldn't have made a difference. Especially not when he stole a moment to dance as the handlers were buzzing about. As so many people got worked up over who was on the door, whether the lighting was OK, and if there was another floor model of the blue-and-cream tie, "Put On" blared over the speakers and DeMarcus started dancing. So did I. I instantly recalled watching the man John Walling, and seeing him celebrate his impossible put-back against Mississippi State. The self-seriousness of adulthood that was captured by all those busybodies, the conspicuous consumption that seems to motivate the Sean John brand--it all stopped as Cousins had a truly earnest moment. The good outweighed the bad for a little bit.
For our continuing FreeDeMarco coverage, check out the serious work Shoals has been putting in over at the FanHouse.
