I Knew I Was in Danger

We were once lucky enough to feature some images from bobarke/champions. He has returned, and we are all the better for it. Also check out the year-end edition of FD/DoC, with special guest star Eric Freeman.

I Am Somebody

You cannot stop me, I am still excited to see Deron Williams in the playoffs—at least when it heads back to SLC. I now fully accept Iguodala after his game-winner, which at the same time, I do not hesitate to chalk up to circumstance. A rookie playing his best game of the season in his first playoff appearance? That's not improbable, it's attributable to a kind of logic we have boldly ignored up until this point. Proof of Kobe's greatness? Just say "Kobe" and "playoffs" in the same sentence and try not to get chills (even if you have to scoff at last year's Finals). And damn, the thought of what Kevin Durant would do in the playoffs is flat-out scary.

There have long been concerns that FreeDarko is somehow not suited for the playoffs. Either because it marks the elimination of cult players and sideshows (it doesn't) or, more darkly, because there's no way to ignore the fact of winning and losing (we don't want to do that). I suspect, though, that there's some intuitive truth to the thought that the individual is sublimated more than ever in a certain, largely mythological, form of playoff ball. That the playoffs and style are mortals enemies who, while they may be reconciled, always rest uneasily at opposite poles. Of course, this depends on defining style as separate from function, and presuming that the playoff mindset is not only generic, but bound to affect some sort of uniformity in those who submit to its sway. Which frankly, is an insult nor only to what "FD" has come to mean, but also to the players themselves—as if the competitive spirit were somehow not an individual question.



The postseason inspires players. It's understandable, and in no way reflects on their attitude toward the regular season. But the stakes are higher, they dig down deeper, and in some cases, you find them more fully-realized, ferocious, and expressive than ever. I point to Williams, for the zillionth time, and submit that Jazz/Lakers will be enjoyable simply because I get to watch this heightened and enhanced version of an elite PG. This is, simply put, playoff style, and it's the intersection of FD's more esoteric concerns and our more hum-drum interest in who goes all the way. That's why a series can be interesting even if the outcome's a no-brainer, and why the drama inherent in any postseason context is ramped up by the NBA's capacity for the individual to contribute to this ambience on a micro-level.

So while the playoffs never make me avidly dislike a player, they can certainly open my eyes to what they're all about, or make me their biggest fan all over again. Playoff style proves, like Iguodala did today, that it's when players push themselves to the limits that they expand and discover just how resourceful, and awe-inspiring, they can be on the court. Today was the best I've seen Josh Smith play all season, and it was a hell of a lot of fun. We talked earlier today about Ariza's coming-out party; J.R. Smith and Beasley didn't do so badly, either. This is when basketball matters most, and consequently, when players put the most of themselves out there. And in the end, there's no way that happens in a manner devoid of, or hostile toward, style.



FreeDarko Recommends Updates: Mike James Kirkland's Hang on in There is so good, I just defied my own personal record spending freeze to finally bid on a copy; I keep staying up way too late reading The Buried Book, even it's about Gilgamesh and British archaeologists; Speaking of indispensable basketball books, Robert Peterson's Cages to Jumpshots, which tells of the NBA's pre-history (I can't muster a Gilgamesh analogy right now), is out of print; this Les Rallizes Denudes live album is enduring proof to me that noise has heart, even soul; Barry Hannah's High Lonesome falls under the category of "stuff that's really influenced my writing that I can still stand to read"; I think pot is absolutely hilarious, and Laurie Colwin's The Lone Pilgrim contains the single funniest short story about pot ever written.

(Clarification: We get paid even if you buy something else, as long as you go in through these links/the widget/the FD book links.)

Time to Build My Brand Back Up

Me and him both. This is the most important man in the playoffs, for now, and I can't wait. Apologies to Rose (Celtics will adjust, can Rose make the superhuman rock-solid, I refuse to believe that team is always there for him in any structurally sound way), and anyone else I missed because I was off in music crit realm yesterday and barely watched. Am willing to hear other nominees.

This might have to be an open thread for now, but one point: What are the chances the Ariza is pretty much what we hope TT might one day become?

Oh, and Texans out there, please help me convince Lady Shoals that she really, really needs to be excited about her Mavs vs. Spurs. I like the Mavs as underdogs, maybe even miscreants and misfits, instead of the establishment. It's like the old days, sort of.

BONUS: Joey continues to rain hot fire with his most impassioned, and yet sympathetic (for him and them) defense of the Spurs ever.

The Difference Between Cults and Cliques

There's already a little grumbling about Kidd's inclusion on Team USA, that he'll crowd out what should rightfully be the Chris Paul/Deron Williams show, that there's nothing he can do that those two can't do better, and that we should hurry up and get the torch-passing over with (as if it hasn't been passed already). I completely understand the desire to see Paul and Williams take center stage, but feel compelled to say that Jason Kidd is the absolute perfect fit for this incarnation of Team USA.

This might seem like an unusual stance to take given that I typically am fully in favor of embracing the future and burning the past, and there's no question that Kidd has been fully eclipsed at this point by those two. Paul and Deron don't have any dues left to pay or any lessons to learn by sitting behind Kidd. Similarly, this isn't about Kidd's years of service, the wisdom gained from them, or the locker room hierarchy that will supposedly help him manage the egos. Deference to our elders means little to me and I have no use for symbolic positions meant to honor past glories. Kidd was pretty underwhelming this year both during his disappointing Mavs reunion and certainly while sleepwalking with the Nets. I fully acknowledge that Paul can run circles around him at this point and that Deron actually has a jumpshot. But none of that changes the fact that the U.S.'s demolition of last summer's FIBA Americas Championship was a thrilling display of basketball, largely because of Kidd's role. Carmelo put up the stats, LeBron got the highlights, and Kobe basked in the defensive glory, but it was the aging Kidd who set the tone for the entire run in a way that Paul or Deron couldn't replicate.



As ecstatic as I get over the Paul-to-Chandler oop, it's almost entirely about Chris Paul's wizardry. Kidd's passes, on the other hand, are complete deferrals to the power and majesty of his finishers, which is exactly what this crowd needs. When Paul's at his finest, the players around him almost feel like props that are out there for his pleasure. LeBron James and Dwight Howard are anything but props. With those two, in addition to Kobe and Melo, this year should still be primarily about them and the terror they can inflict. They shouldn't be out there headless though, which makes the deteriorated Kidd the perfect compromise to set them up without taking any of their spotlight; to put the ball in the perfect place every time, while still allowing the finishers to lead.

If you didn't see or don't remember Kidd's FIBA performance, it was absolutely flawless, and something I can't wait to see recreated on an even bigger stage. The statline he ended up with doesn't appear striking (1.8 ppg, 3.3 rpg, and 4.6 apg in 15.9 mpg), but his two most important numbers were the just 10 shot attempts and 5 turnovers over the course of the 10 games. That second stat is especially staggering when one thinks back to the ridiculous array of passes he attempted. In particular, two of his botched passes stick out to me more than all of his successes: at one point he attempted a full-court bounce pass that weaved between three defenders, barely beating his streaking target to the spot. Even more impressive was the highlight of the entire tournament: the failed off-balance, off-the-backboard alley oop to LeBron from the 3-point line. Had LeBron connected (and he arguably should have), it would have gone down as the greatest pass I've ever seen.




Despite all the absurd pass attempts, he still ended up with a tournament-leading 9.2 ast/to ratio. That number is off the charts in a regular season, but in an intensified series of All-Star games, it just doesn't seem rational. But when you have LeBron and Dwight on the other end of your lobs and they're actually trying, you can usually get away with things you couldn't imagine anywhere else. Chris and Deron are definitely going to have their share of inspired plays, both by themselves and using their teammates, but with those two their highlights are manifestly of their creation, with their stamp always firmly affixed. In the NBA, this makes their play hugely preferable to Kidd's diminished game. Surrounded by other future HOFers though, I'll take Kidd's seemingly-less-authored genius every time.

At least as important as his awe-inspiring lobs was Kidd's unique approach to moving the ball that summer. He came into the tournament absolutely determined to never dribble the basketball, opting instead for full-court outlet passes after both makes and misses. He may have dribbled the ball 6 or 7 times over the entire week and a half, never holding the ball for more than a second or two. The "hot potato" style completely took over, as though the entire team collectively decided, "fuck dribbling," which translated to incredibly gorgeous basketball. Somehow a team starring Carmelo, Kobe, and LeBron managed to use hardly any isos at all, save for an occasional reassertion of Kobe's alpha status. On a team loaded with scorers, a point guard that needs to dominate the ball has the potential to disrupt the awesome flow that this group established last summer. With Kidd at the reigns, I feel confident we'll be treated once again to the steady stream of flawless touch passes we saw last August.



Chris Paul and Deron Williams are absolute virtuosos on the court. They'll be spectacular both this summer off the bench and as they lead us to the next 3 or 4 gold medals. But for this year, it's still all about Kidd setting the table without ever claiming the foreground. Not as a nostalgic tribute to what's come before, but because his current style is what will make for the most exciting and dominating basketball right now.

My Big Error

Okay, I finally get why Deron Williams has it in for Chris Paul. That rivalry not about draft proximity, or proving that his game is every bit as praiseworthy as Paul's wizardry. Over these last two games, I've come to realize what a scalding bad-ass Williams is. He's not just a big PG, or a guy who makes a good first pass, or a meat-and-potatoes offensive cog in Sloan's new machine.

Williams is positively Paul-ian. He's got that Jordan-esque, Kobe-esque indignation and will to destroy that people jock so hard in Paul. When he's pissed, or increasingly, whenever he decides the game belongs to him, Williams does shit on offense that's every bit as phenomenal as CP3's streaking drives. As a passer, too, he gets more and more brazen as these playoffs go on, making plays with little or no regard to the logical order of that line-up.

The bottom line of it is not that Williams detests being second best, though that's part of it. He also can't stand that Paul's seen as a transcendent talent, while because of his size and system he's denied that superstar aura. For too long, Williams was seen as having a natural advantage over Paul, and also inhabiting a controlled situation that supposedly played to his strengths.



He had it better, and yet was best when limited. No more, no more. Williams seems to be moving faster, feeling more, and going for the jugular now, like he's out to prove that Paul's not the only one on the fast track to immortality. I joked about this on Deadspin, but now I'm convinced it's for real.

It's almost enough to make me want to see Hornets/Jazz in the next round, even though, on a sentimental level, I'd prefer to see Kobe and Odom advance.

A few other things:

-Maybe more on this later in the week, but we can stop worrying about how D'Antoni works in New York right now. He's far too valuable, and prestigious, a resource to burn through and offer up for easy sacrifice like head coaches usually are. It'll be at least two years before a team to D'Antoni's liking is in place there, and Walsh wouldn't have made this investment if he didn't plan to wait out this uneasy period.

There might be purges, or stretches of fitful rebuilding, or just plain flawed attempts to make something out of dross. Regardless, though, the New York media and fans won't get to exert their usual pressure here. I know that supposedly D'Antoni is too mild-mannered for NYC, but I prefer to think he's just enough of an outsider to be above it all. He doesn't give a fuck, and will bide his time until he puts together the army he wants.



-Not expecting anyone to sympathize with this, but it's funny how much of these playoffs I spend praying nothing will happen to fuck up the book. McGrady somewhat renouncing the mantle of tragedy threw me off, even if that's still the major story of his career and life. Dr. LIC just emailed me worried that Odom could become a internationally acclaimed playoff hero. It's weird because, while I'd love to have seen T-Mac advance this season, or the Hawks win the series, or have Odom carry the Lakers while Kobe's injured, it would directly fuck up the product our future's riding on.

-I sort of anticipate Kobe's play today to come under scrutiny. By the end, he was moving slow enough that I could've stayed with him; seemed like he was getting worse all along and adjusting accordingly, but after that fall in fourth, there was a huge drop-off that he only really came to terms with on that stumbling baby-hook drive. There were about three possessions late that probably should've centered around Odom or Fisher (okay, maybe not Fisher).

I will say this, though: At this point, criticizing Kobe isn't a descent into utter bedlam. It might even be possible for Jackson to catch some responsibility. That's a powerful statement about how far the MVP has come this season.



-That was the best game of the post-season. The Hawks wins were special to me and my service to the devil, the 2OT Spurs/Suns had a quaint, happily accidental charm to it. Chris Paul on a rampage has been revelatory, even for someone who did watch him all year. But this game, and the preceding Jazz/Lakers, have been a series a well-played, dramatic movements and stars playing like that. And no bullshit role player glorification. Ronnie Brewer is a man. Ronnie Price, too.