Or, if for once you want a title that makes sense, "Who Owns a Meme"?
I don't claim to have invented the "Positional Revolution". That would be the players who dared to do fifteen-hundred things at once, or the coaches subverting the conventions of their day. But I do know that I coined the phrase, started the conversation (on the internet) at least, and, have pursued it with some seriousness for the last 4.5 years, along with the help of brave souls like Tom Ziller. Unlike that batty "Liberated Fandom", which was formulaic, purposefully rude, and at some point gives way to common sense, I am relatively proud of the writing I've done about positionality in the NBA, and even the phrase "Positional Revolution" itself. When I was in OKC, I had a long conversation with Sam Presti about it and didn't feel the least bit self-conscious, something of a minor miracle for me.
Why am I bringing this up, on a near-defunct blog whose readers are well familiar with my snappy little phrases? Well, it appears the Positional Revolution has gone mainstream, and I've been left behind. There is a band that makes a perfect analogy here, but I'm blanking on their name. Last summer, the blogosphere suddenly flared up with new discussions of position, and quickly, the phrase "Positional Revolution" entered the picture. I thought this was neat, until it kept going, with no acknowledgment of, well, ME. Finally, I spoke out, and was accused of, basically, not understanding that online, everybody knows I made up that term and constant genuflection would be a waste of everybody's time. I posted something pissy that updated my thoughts and then went on with my life.
Well, it's back again, but this time, I genuinely worried from a "branding" and "marketplace of ideas" standpoint.
It doesn't really matter that Rob Mahoney and I disagree on some of the finer points of positionality and its discontents. If you want, when my back hurts less and I'm less generally angry, I can link up all the posts I've done, many of them with TZ, on the subject of structure in basketball. Basically, categories must wither and die, and instead you get heuristic groupings that vary depending on situations. The re-distribution of responsibilities takes place not only on the macro- level of a starting line-up, but also within the ebb and flow of any given possession. This is possible because of players who feel, and respond to, the game in this way; as I wrote in 2007, "the Positional Revolution becomes most radical when the inflamed individual is transubstantiated into a form of basketball logic." Certainly, it doesn't really get into defense, something Danny Leroux has dealt with.
The point is that, when the phrase "Positional Revolution" is written about at great length on the New York Times site without my receiving any credit, it upsets me. I can't assume that everyone reading Rob's piece there knows about what I've done in the past. Is that egotism? Maybe. But it's also a question of how much right I have to be identified with this conversation that sprang up from the web—especially when it's a phrase I coined myself. When I load up the NBA page of Business Insider, a site I write for, and find Adam Fusfeld crediting Rob with ushering in a new era of positions, I can't help but get frustrated and write in this tone.
I know, I have no right to complain about anything, my life is one big party, etc. But you try and spend hours and hours working through an idea—even coming up with a snappy name for it—only to find yourself more or less invisibly as it starts to find a wider audience. Or, to be perfectly blunt about it, this was my Revolution. Take it up if you want, just don't, in effect, pass it off as your own. And yes, at some point, omission is an insult, not proof that my ideas have become part of the ether.
On second though, I'll just trademark the term, and content myself with royalties. Since that's what this is really all about.
You people exhaust me sometimes, especially when I'm suffering from stomach flu and dementia on my anniversary.
Here are a few thoughts I wanted to get down hard, after yesterday's feelings-gasm, the sort of post that makes everyone angry and really only serves as catharsis for yours truly at the exact moment it happens. Then regret, and defensiveness, and asking, "how could I have done better?" So here are some official FD Team USA 2010 talking points:
1. We were going to win anyway, so it didn't matter who we played. Team USA ran away with all but one game they played. Does that show that Coach K is that perfect? That this particular group was positioned just so to run away like clockwork? Sorry, Craig from High Point, it's proof that (as milaz sort of put it) America is the world's greatest except for when we aren't. Look at the rhetoric. We went from "FIBA-style pros" to changing what that meant, to deciding to just screw it all and make no illusions about going with athleticism and length. Like I said, is anyone saying "I told you so?" This is hollow, and boring, and the Worlds only matter this year because Nike told us they did, and because in a far-off galaxy failing to win could have kept us from the Olympics.
So fine, Coach K knows it all. But he didn't have much of a tall order here. I mean really, he put in Love for one game and got a double-double. Same for those times Eric Gordon snuck in. He didn't build those "secret weapons," they were stashed away on the bench. I gues it's cool that everyone wasn't going for self, but playing together is the new individual glory. Didn't anyone catch LeBron, Kobe, and Durant all agreeing on this in the last years? It was SO too easy, I'm not exactly inclined to think this required every single bit of his coaching wherewithal to put it all together. After all, one game of mortality does not a challenge make. Which leads me to . ..
2. As far as Positional Zaniness is concerned: Fool's gold, I say! Granted, my line-up was overly traditional. I guess the pick of Curry at point probably either trying to confuse people or make up for my past hatred of him. Westbrook probably was the guy. Maybe even, as much as it pains me to say it, better than Rondo for it. But what I would like to see from basketball—and when there's a non-stop blowout in the offing, I will stand up and talk about the style I like to see—isn't lots of a multi-skilled guys reduced to athletic role players who orbit around Durant. Really torn on Odom. I really underestimated his value, but really, hasn't Odom's basketball genius been in decline since he came to the Lakers? That was my point about so many other Odoms. Lamar Odom, doing dirty work? For that I would rather see Kevin Love! Andre Igudala was, I repeat, the only guy who really managed to sublimate his game and come out on the other side a more interesting player.
3. Kevin Durant is amazing. That cannot be denied. Really, though, did you ever see a more contrived story arc than this one? I didn't need FIBA to show me that KD can work wonders. I've seen it in the pros. I know he was treating it like any other high-stakes competition, but for anyone who NOW believes him to be up there with LeBron and Kobe, well, hold your horses until you've watched him in the NBA. I mean, did you see dude in the Goodman League back in 2008? HOLY SMOKES!!!!!!!
4. By that same token, does this officially mean that Danny Granger stinks?
5. And yeah, the Rondo thing did leave the worst taste in my mouth.
-Spencer Hall wrote this piece about college football, humanity, and time. Then Brian Phillips wrote about David Foster Wallace's Federer and Pele-as-comedian. Yesterday was a great day to have internet access and a computer. Seriously, it gets no better.
-At Culture Breach, Jay Caspian Kang takes part in a Jeremy Lin roundtable, along with (to name a few) Hua Hsu and Oliver Wang. In the words of the organizers, Jay "was quite the battle-ax in our dialogues". Free Rashad is on hold, but he got up some nice thoughts on Mike Tyson (part 1, part 2) that might interest you.
-Read today's Works if you like Ziller's charts or issues of Kevin Durant, representation, and authenticity.
As usual, here I tell you to read The Works. It cooks and is evil fun. But, harkening back to the posts we used to do about the post we had just done for McSweeney's, here are some further thoughts on Kwame Brown, who figures prominently in today's column.
I took this unique opportunity to plumb the depths of Kwame Brown, mostly to determine why he was drafted number one. In the column, I compare him to a Euro, except with Darko, there was at least a cloud of mythos. Chandler and Curry were much better known, but then the lowly Kwame murdered Chandler before MJ in a workout, and the die was cast. Yes, back then it was assumed that Jordan knew something we didn't. But more interesting to me is the idea that workouts -- held up today as the ultimate form of wishful thinking -- were then the latest thing in empiricism. To see was to believe; reputation was propaganda and mistrust.
What makes the story even more serpentine is that this fairly insider-y moment at once decided the pick, and placed it sorely outside the reach of anyone who wasn't a total draft nerd. The draft was, during the workout era, rendering wholly inaccessible, because workouts sought to disprove everything we thought we knew, or make unknown players into late-risers. Darko, in that sense, is more like LeBron than he is Kwame; Pavel Podkolzin or Skita are his equivalent. It makes some sense: high school competition, no matter how camped-out, is still far from perfect. You can't put the player through the paces you want see. You don't push him to max. And yet there's a reason that, today, we speak scornfully of "workout wonders".
So Jordan had a reason, just not when that really resonated enough with the public -- at least not enough to be repeated ad infinitum until it grew into its own justification. To some extent, the Wizards knew that would have sounded crazy. With this realization, they -- and every other NBA team -- opened themselves up to ridicule. Scouting being hermetic because it knew better; it also recognized its own limits, its own specialization and micro-standards, and thus resigned itself to a public face of farce. In any year but 2003, Darko wouldn't have fallen so hard. With LeBron screaming through, it was just too late to try that crap. By the next year, Euros were receding, and high schooler players measured more on the kind of pro they would make. Not, to paraphrase a paleontologist I saw on NOVA last night, looking at funny bones and delighting in what they could be. That's not science, no matter how brilliant and inventive it feels, or how badly it wants to supersede the burden of what came before.
At the time, though, NBA teams thought they had hit on the magic method. It was just a different kind, a new method adapted to a low-info climate. There were glees and squeals over finding brand new types of players; hence the emphasis on all sorts of Next Kevin Garnetts, the ultimate position-buster. Let's not even try and catalog all the absurdities passed down from Europe -- which, ironically, were suggested in play and then fleshed out in workouts. The rumor was hypothesis, the workout the experiment. Sounds perfectly reasonable, no?
Except, as we know today, workouts are even more skewed than whatever players do in flashes abroad, or in the fatuous playpen of high school ball. For one, international leagues and preps play have both raised their levels. You can see a player, if not for who he could be, at least reasonably well for what he is. If that's a conservative backlash against the speculative dreaming of the workout days, when front offices sought to have their wildest wishes confirmed and conventional wisdom struck down, it's the current climate. Hyped players have it for a reason. Colleges works alongside pros to generate a reasonable facsimile of who prospects are.
Where they are headed, no one knows. But the present, en masse, gives rise to high expectations, that perilous thing we call hype. Certainly, this kind of hype is preferable, more rooted, and more realistic than what workouts produced. The new science has been proven fraud; its attack on common sense and accessibility the ultimate hermetic gag. Populist hype has gone from laughingstock to an important partner in the deep thinking of the draft. Perhaps it has been improved upon; perhaps these things just go in cycle. Regardless, today, we are all scouts. And the sport is probably the better off for it.
In case you don't have Twitter, here's the most FD video ever:
List your favorite moments below! Believe it or not, my favorite shit is DJ and Russell's "interview" about defending Bates. Oh, and I was nearly on the verge of seeing Bates's PBA sojourn not as squandered promise, but exactly the kind of magical ending this barely-real figure deserved.
Oh, and some get-shit-off-my-chest I haven't been able to do elsewhere: I don't claim to own the Positional Revolution, whatever any of that means. It's an idea we've toyed with for years, spurred by changes in the league. Like, since 2004. Certainly, I would never copyright it like I have Liberated Fandom, or Libated Fandom. But, at the risk of making everyone hate me, this latest round of Positional Revolution "discussion" strikes me as a little late in the game. It reminds me of how the advanced stats people must have felt when me, Ziller, Eric, Silverbird, and others engaged in a battle over PER years after the fact.
So, to address some points made by Rob Mahoney as he sums it all up ... I apologize in advance if you hate me after this:
1. Jesse Blanchard explains the futility of matching up players by similar positions. I don't see this as requiring a new set of terms, or even universalizing themes. Players switch up, or take unorthodox assignments, all the time. It's a matter of being able to cover the team's collective ass elsewhere. If Rondo takes a shooting guard, there had better be swingman or PG able to stick the opposing PG. This isn't just heuristic on a team-to-team basis -- i.e. who can guard what other positions -- but on team vs. team. Eric Freeman says that, if the other team is running out unorthodox players, it really makes no sense to label anyone. You look at the match-ups and devise a strategy for it. It's about a more heady gameplan, not a new theory of classification.
2. Matt Moore caught a quote from Kobe that suggested he would play anywhere, as a result of Euros (and his waning athleticism). Money shot, right! I hadn't heard that line before anyone else is, but I'll leave it up to you to determine how much of his totalizing has been handled in FD many times over the years.
3. One of the several times that Ziller and I addressed these posts, from a more dignified pulpit so I wouldn't flip out. But Rob, come on. I'm not "taking Moore's point and running with it." For one, it's just weird to say that I'm following Matt here. I'll leave that there. More to the point, though, I'm trying to contradict him to prove a point. Moore questions whether we need to label Tyreke Evans; I say that, if you look at the NBA today, point guards are rising at the same time as flexible teams. This means that, yes, the Kings still would like to know if Evans is a point guard, or something else. If he's a PG, capable of orchestrating the kind of complicated system the 21st century has developed, good for him. If not, he's still amazing. Height and power still matter, but as teams grow more fluid, it's more and more on the point guard to track this stuff and make sense of it. That's important; they make it possible. THAT's why I said point guards were the gateway.
4. I am pretty sure I agree with Kevin Arnovitz, namely, that discussing this in the abstract misses the point. You adapt, or re-determine, based on either need, want, or what resources you have at your disposal. Ideally, it's a team like the Thunder, building a weird squad around a weird player. The bootleg version of that are Rob's Mavs, who should have done the same thing with Dirk a long time ago. Now, they find themselves with enough unusual talent that they can devise these schemes on the fly, or maybe even in camp. Then there's also the most prosaic version of this, alluded to by Blanchard: in a game, you make adjustments. That's easier if players are versatile. Granted, that's only revolution on a micro-level, maybe even not at all -- since it's done already. I prefer to think that it means the future isn't as far off as we think.
I know you're all sick of my shilling for FanHouse, but I have your number. Ziller and I now have a regular column. Today's romp discusses McGrady's exile and how it had to be; ref bias, but not like you think; more and more Positional Revolution, including a nod to Total Football I swore I wouldn't make; and a soccer-based race for the top at the bottom.
The Works airs every morning, no matter what happens in between. As its name suggests, it is somewhere between a mess of ice cream toppings and a drug delivery device.
There are, however, some decidedly FD matters to tend to. First, off of Brian's "Ballet of Frost" post linked above: I very much enjoyed watching Spain throughout the World Cup. As I told Eric several times, they made me feel like I actually understood something about soccer. Many people compared the midfielders, especially Xavi, to Nash. And it's true—we've often discussed on here the ways in which Nash creates new passing lanes. To me, that's what the endless movement of Spain looked like: Manipulating position until an unfamiliar path to the goal revealed itself. I don't care if it's wrong, it's how I saw it. What got to me, though, was how little playfulness there seemed to be in what was, in its most basic and post-structural sense, play. I tweeted that it was the most earnest trickery I'd ever seen. Today, chatting with Trey, I called it Nash with no sense of fun; he came back with "Chris Paul if he weren't a dick".
I may still be a soccer beginner, but style is universal, because it is a product, and mirror for, the human spirit. I think what made Brian's piece resonate with me was that, while I don't find Spain at all boring, there is something inhuman about them that's always on the wrong side of human. They aren't steely or clinical; it's a game that wants badly to express itself, to be art not math, and yet it's fundamentally either too fulsome or too cautious to take that plunge.
Back to reality: I watched John Wall's debut, eagerly, and was perfectly satisfied with what I saw. Yes, there were a few really bad turnovers (what happened to the handle?), and no, the jumper hasn't emerged overnight. But mostly, this looked like Wall, at some vague semblance of the next level. He got his teammates involved, and pretty quickly established that he and JaVale McGee could become Paul-Chandler Redux. Throw Blatche in there and I have no idea how you express it as a word-equation. Blah blah blah not so much quicker than everyone else wide-open game agrees with him gets to the line college obviously stifled him. The real key, though, is that Wall didn't need to make a statement. No one doubts him. And as a pure point, you've got to figure that he was more interested in making others look good—especially when they need it so much more than he does.
The lottery picks who make headlines in summer leagues are usually those with something to prove. I'm thinking specifically of Tyreke Evans, when no one understood what position he played, or why he mattered more than Rubio. Anthony Rudolph had 40 when his legend started to build. Of course, there's also Julian Wright or Qyntel Woods going off, but turning in the other direction, does anyone think for a second that LeBron James couldn't have dominated summer league if he wanted to? Some rookies can afford to take slow, get a feel for this sort-of-pro context as a warm-up for the NBA, and, as Wall did, realize it means more to the second-rounders and free agents than to them. The big men who get 647573 fouls? It's them getting their bearings. All lottery picks should be able to use the summer league like this. But alas, sometimes they end up in the same boat as D-League-bound aspirants.
POSITIONAL REVOLUTION: I forgot who on ESPN kept saying "great players figure out how to play together". I think it was Tim Legler, who also said (I think) that Wade and James had the same kind of game. But, at the risk of embracing pure emptiness, this Miami Heat is super-major with regard to one of this site's core tenets. Actually, fuck it, these three DO know how to play together, like they did in the Olympics when they conquered the known universe. And that was with Kobe Bryant in tow, who—with all due respect to the God—makes this line-up more difficult to pull-off, since he's less versatile than James or Wade.
I have lately become enamored of the idea that James is a reluctant mega-scorer. Not a bitch who doesn't live for late game situations, or whatever the latest attack meme is, but a multi-dimensional beast who can do so much more with the floor than simply barrel inside or hoist jumpers. Given how much success he has with those two tools, the possibilities are mind-blowing. Once upon a time, James was likened to Magic Johnson. Put LBJ at point forward, truly playing on or off the ball, at either end of the pick and roll. There's no reason he can be the most ferocious inside-outside/outside-inside threat the league has ever seen. A quitter because he's with two other All-Stars? Fine, whatever. I'll take James unleashed as superstructure, with Wade alternating between the two guard slots, and Bosh taking advantage of his ranginess as a big man (the Gasol comparison). I know I said that this team was the anti-Thunder, but if they go this direction, they'll be light years ahead of Durant and company.
I refuse to comment on the new Raptors or Suns any further until there's a good chart for me to consult.
Here, it's me talking nonsense about the NBA Draft for 3,000 words. Unlike in the past when I've done this for Deadspin, I went back and cleaned it up, added stuff, etc. Somehow, most of the changes and fattening happened further down in the log. This is actually much like those old edited FD chats we'd run the next day. But it's just me. No, that wasn't an invitation to argue about the past.
My biggest draft night neurosis: My in ability to remember having seen Kevin Seraphin play. Apparently I saw him do stuff like this for twenty minutes. Go to 2:35 in for a taste.
I am chalking it up to a "thou shall have no gods but John Wall" weekend. That's Wall getting swatted by Seraphin, by the way.
Still trying to figure out the Wall narrative. He certainly has godhead potential, and indeed we all tried to bestow it upon him coming out of high school. But the Kentucky experience both loosened him up and hardened him in important ways. We also can't underestimate the effect that Eric Prisbell's WaPo piece had on the way he's seen. You've heard of a hijacked news cycle? This was mythology handed important texts at the deadline.
I think someone called him "Sir John" last night. That strikes me as strangely apt. Wouldn't instant divinity also mean arrested adolescence? Or, if there were maturity there, it wouldn't exactly feel earned. Wall may be working his way up to the otherworldly -- an odd thought, but in keeping with the humility and depth that, as much as the dunks, are becoming part of his star-making narrative.
Anyway, I am fairly dead, but wanted to make sure you didn't miss my draft commentary. Just for kicks, major FD potential for Wall (duh), Johnson (mixed on there), Cousins (as parable), Monroe (I expect some heady new discoveries), Aminu (just getting started), Paul George (be thine own wings), Patterson (that soccer quirk), Sanders (supreme FD), Whiteside (the ADD kid), Devin Ebanks (show 'em something!), Tiny Gallon (FD loves fat dudes), Willie Warren (for a year ago), Stanley Robinson (will MURDER in summer leagues). Factor in the positional flux of so many guys, and I think you see why I was so turned on by this draft. This wasn't the big man draft, some inverted sequel to 2009. No, as Ziller pointed out, this was an attempt death-knell for position.
His exact words: "Again, positions are stupid. You need some big dudes and some dudes who can handle the ball, and they all need to compliment each other based on what you're trying to do. Draft accordingly."
Time will tell if its repercussions turn out to be shock waves or mere inconveniences. And just maybe, it's a sign of what was already in the air.
OOPS: Left off Avery Bradley. A him and Rondo backcourt makes no common sense, but has space gargoyle potential that it breaks my teeth to even consider.
I've written some good shit at AOL in my first week. Like, things that would do just fine on this site. Don't believe me? Take a look at these responsible links.
All sort of crazy stuff coming down from the foggy hilltop lair of the Golden State Warriors. Down a bit in this Baseline post, you get Monta equivocating on just where he stands with the team, and whether or not he thinks Ellis/Curry could ever make that bank. Dude's got a point: Both are small, and while Ellis isn't say it, Curry's unproven, much less as a do-it-all weirdo that Nellie will demand if he's actually paying attention. For my three dolmas, I don't see why the team wouldn't go with Morrow, other than the fact that Curry's got just enough to keep everyone under his spell (or rather, to justify using him when his name is potentially big draw. At least NY felt that way.)
Morrow is a shooting machine, and while Ellis doesn't naturally play the 1, I fail to see exactly why the team wins by accommodating Curry, rather than trying to figure out how to best make the team work around Monta. Come on Nellie, you're letting down your foremost theoretial boosters! In fact, you could run out a line-up that's surprisingly conventional, albeit with a few wrinkles, and still learn a lot, teach others, and win some games. What's so bad about Ellis/Morrow/Jackson/Randolph/Biedrins, with Curry and Wright featured prominently off the bench?
But this ain't The Baseline, and you aren't here to watch me rattle off possible line-ups—however irrational, or ideologically-motivated, they might be. I come to speak to you of the current interactions of Jackson and Ellis with the press, respective. Jackson, in particularly, is somehow straddling the line between calm/cool and outlandish, saying, more or less, "I've seen everyone else go. The team I helped win is gone. The new formation is, if not looking for an identity, at least not that good yet. I proved myself with the Spurs, brought love to the Bay, and signed an offer I'd have been foolish to turn down here. Please trade me." Yes, there's a paradox there: WHY SIGN IF YOU WANTED TO LEAVE YOU SELFISH THUG FUCK!???!! But Nellie himself is talking a similarly rational game, along the lines of "we'll see what we can do, but it won't tear the team apart." In short, the two still seem to trust the other to exercise some form of reason—a funny sentence if ever there were one, but the way it is.
(By the way, I think most of my paraphrases are taken from this here San Francisco Chronicle story. For Monta, see Baseline link above.)
Ellis is a trickier proposition. He's being paid like the franchise, but is increasingly depicte as the odd man out. Why exactly has Ellis gone from one of the league's most coveted young players to disgruntled trade bait? Because he's not a true PG? Because his three-pointer has bad credit rating? This is a Don Nelson team we're talking about. For the same reason that we'd expect him to both respect Jackson's will to exit and forge ahead with him nonetheless, it's a total letdown that Ellis now poses such a quandry.Who exactly is Nelson waiting for when it comes to making this team fall into place? Is he suddenly appealing to the templates of convention? Yes, he loves Randolph. How are those two not a package deal? I guess there's some PR/business shit to sort out, but as for basketball, if ever there were a time for fearlessness on Nellie's part, today is that hour.
It's tempting to blame it all on Curry, and all that he stands for. But whatever, even his uneven skill set might end up best tucked away somewhere in a Ellis/Randolph superstructure. I don't get why, on the level of feelings and abstract coach-speak, Nelson seems so willing to break the mold as he plays reasonable with Jackson, but can't get a little restive or provocative when it comes to putting players on the floor.
Or perhaps the repartee with Jackson must be viewed alongside Nelson's threat to coach for free in 2011-12. The Positional Revolution has sapped him; now, he's smacking up and down the entire culture of labor and coach/team/player relations. That would be cool and all, but at this crucial time for the Dubs, when so much is possible and at the same time so much slipping away, now is the time for Nelson to get off his ass, slap some water on his face, and one more time ride into battle like the wind around him can drown out all but the sound of his own thoughts.
I never get the sense that anyone likes Antoine Walker. Somewhere around his thousandth three-point attempt in the NBA, perception appeared to have turned against him. After that, it never changed back. He was branded as a counterproductive chucker, someone not especially preoccupied with winning, and a lazy disappointment. Boston almost made the Finals once, and that helped him a little, but ultimately it didn't take. It might be the idea behind disappointment--seems like people expected more, didn't get it, and became eternally frustrated, if not angry. None of this is meant to sound derisive because I shared in the pain. We're not headed down a Rasheed path here; I've not come to rattle about with the notion of Antoine succeeding in his own way. Nor is this a post about his redemption. Toine usually left me upset, just as he might have left the rest of you.
This is a post about demise, actually. Antoine's recent arrest highlighted just how quietly he left us. Had you thought about him this summer? This year? His final seasons in the NBA were spent as some itinerant sideshow with an overeating disorder and historically comical shot selection. He was on teams like Minnesota and Memphis, Siberian outposts that matter on FD and few other places. (At least, given recent history. No offense, DLIC.) He sort of vanished, first exciting, then relevant, later curious, and ultimately just gone. That he bounced bad checks in casinos didn't even strike me as especially odd, as though there were a logical progression from what he had become on the court to what he is now off of it. Shoot some threes, work up a sweat walking across halfcourt, retire to the bench with those calf-highs the only things reminiscent of former pride, and then hit the Alaskan king crab buffet at Harrah's in between hands. For a few moments, I was puzzled by whether any team would care, and I was sad to realize that none would. The Walker arrest had the feeling of a Mickey Rourke movie, Wrestler or not.
Oddly, this particular melancholy resonated with me, almost literally. I felt it in my chest, through my body. Involuntarily, my shoulders went up, my brow wrinkled up, and my mouth turned down, the posture you adopt as you mull over something perplexingly sad, or nearly unspeakable because it's just that unpleasant. I don't know Antoine Walker, of course, and he always seemed decent but nothing more. His color, to the extent that he had any, was washed out and unremarkable. I think that's what makes me so uncomfortable.
Before Antoine, there were forwards who could pass, and forwards who could shoot. There were tall men who could drift outside. And since Toine, there have been men who do those things better than he ever did them. Standards have changed, though. Big men who played like Walker before there was Walker were not so common, and I don't only mean that the three-point line irrevocably altered basketball. I mean that James Worthy was swooping to the hoop if not occasionally popping out for a mid-range jumper, and that Karl Malone was throwing his elbows into you. (Or hooking with his off arm before spinning away from a defender and the ref.) I mean that every year, now, we look at drafts filled with tall guys who must improve their post games because so many have dedicate their respective youths to developing a guard's skill set. We celebrate Kevin Garnett and Dirk Nowitzki for being the standards of non-standard, and every team seeks to find some non-standard of its own. The perception of what forwards can do, and how they should play, has changed in many ways.
Walker may not have been a true originator, but for me, in the stream of my own basketball consciousness, he was emblematic of the evolving style that a forward could effect. Antoine was a symbol, no light distinction given the company among which he stands for a 27-year-old. He was a true hybrid--he had guard skills and guard range (plus that crazy-person shot selection), but he also was naturally gifted around the rim and a wonderful rebounder. Not a lanky giant and not a small man trying to play a big man's game, he had the true hybrid body, too: the ass of a guy who could post up, complete with a sturdy base (which those socks may have reinforced, ever so slightly), yet he was nimble enough to run a little (when he still ran), and his upper body was not muscle bound or an impediment to his shooting.
And, of course, he was propelled toward stardom by excelling in a college system that encouraged someone like him to bomb from three and press all game. His combination of varied skills, multipurpose body, and atypical doctrine was truly different, and it came at a time when a critical mass of forwards who play a different kind of way was only beginning to build. Now, we take for granted that there will be tall men who can play inside and out, but Walker was a key figure in helping the orthodoxy arrive at such an assumption. I do Toine a disservice when I write this, but there is no Skita-as-bust without Walker, because no one's looking for some soft-ass Euro named Nikoloz in the first place.
Certain players serve as cultural touchstones, and Antoine was one of them, both good and bad. He embodied an archetype of innovation that enjoyed out-sized notoriety because of its intrinsic qualities and extrinsic influences. The intrinsic has been touched upon--Walker was among a new class of forwards who were neither "The Next" anything nor wholly divorced from the past. Toine and his set were, and are, an amalgamation of parts meant to conjure progress. The extrinsic was a function of time: Antoine et al. arrived (as in, emerged, not just "were drafted") as the first players charged with governing the NBA after Michael Jordan. Almost too perfectly, he debuted as Allen and Kobe reached these altered shores. Toine's game was laid as part of the foundation for this new era.
So, consider all of that. Really take some time to appreciate who Antoine Walker was. First, the star pupil of a masterful coach, and not just a mere beneficiary of Rick Pitino radicalism. Rather, Walker enabled it. He was a paradigm, and no small reason why 1996 Kentucky stands as one of college basketball's most talented and all-time greatest. Next, a member of a new oligarchy which came to the NBA with a mandate for change. He appeared with a game that expanded the boundaries of our thinking, and a body perfectly tailored for the way he was supposed to move.
Antoine Walker was a revolutionary figure, and that was lost along the way.
Also: Recent events compel me to make mention of a few other things:
First, I find the NFL's treatment of Michael Vick odious and racist. You can read about it here. The post quasi involves eschatology, if that's any incentive. That said, as Shoals has pointed out, there is irony in the fact that despite everything, Vick is more likely to find employment than Allen Iverson.
Second, when it was reported that Iverson might be signed by the Clippers in a desperate attempt to sell tickets, my heart sank. Not because I am such a huge fan of AI's game, but because I do tremendously value AI's meaning in the sociocultural continuum. Reducing Allen to the NBA equivalent of a carnival attraction immediately summoned sad notions of minstrel things. For several years, now, I have been unable to stop thinking about Iverson and his unforgivable blackness, to borrow the the Jack Johnson term. Whatever else he was or is, and however sincere it might have been, Iverson's identity has always counted his blackness as a primary component. Seeing a symbol of the black experience he has been held out to represent reduced to a sorry gimmick would feel horribly gross. Though maybe Allen crossing that threshold would necessarily entail leaving behind whatever we claim he represents and emerging as just the latest broken-down mercenary.
Third, the Stephon Marbury saga. This is not a desperate athlete's contrivance meant to court attention in the wake of an unwelcomed retirement. (At least, no solely, or even mostly.) This is, rather, a legitimately deranged person who has always used basketball to forge an identity. Bereft of basketball, and no longer pigeonholed into the rote selfish-malcontent narrative that may have obscured his eccentricity, Steph is being Steph. Really, the only thing that has changed is that he now has much more free time and much less sense of purpose. I've always maintained that there might be something Mike Tyson-ish about him. I hope not.
First, the widget: I think I've finally quit for good, which has me returning to Cigarettes Are Sublime and its effort to get at what, beyond tobacco, makes smoking great; Miike's remake of Graveyard of Honor is one of the few DVD's I own, and I find it as moving in its own way as The Wolves; since I'm going to see Leonard Cohen later this month, I've decided to conclude thatNew Skin for the Old Ceremony, which I listened to on repeat the only time I wrote a short story; a couple years back, Dr. LIC and myself randomly found out we were both huge fans of Israel Rabon's ultra-bleak The Street, about a homeless Jewish soldier in 1920's Poland; Charles Shaar Murray'sCrosstown Traffic is like Greil Marcus if he actually liked music; I'm routinely amazed at how many people, myself included, have long been in the dark aboutPlaying for Keeps, Halberstam's long-ass Jordan bio.
At many times in many hours, we have brought forth the notion of a Positional Revolution. These have been near-utopian ideals, which mostly involve either an entire team structuring itself around a single, atypical player (or as a series of interdependent roles that buck convention), or a bunch of do-it-all weirdos whose contributions shift from possession to possession. Old news for anyone who has read this blog before this year, which has been remarkably devoid of advances on that front.
That is, until about a week ago. That's when the Thunder signed Shaun Livingston, I remembered they had Thabo, and I started to wonder, what becometh of Russell Westbrook? You want to talk about Rondo as a PG lacking in jump shot? Westbrook is the point equivalent of a dirty bomb. He's so unpredictable, and riotously imperfect, that you really have to wonder how teams scouting him managed to keep any stable future hologram in front of them while taking their notes. It's not just that he lacks position, but that he undermines, even threatens, the stability of those around him.
No, this isn't that same old combo-itis again, or the curse of the tweener. I think it's pretty much established that this cliche, conservative as it may be, rings damningly true except in the case of certain active backcourts where two guards overstep their bounds just enough to mesh (this year, it's Williams/West). I see Westbrook as too unstable, divergent, and fundamentally bugged-out to fit into that synergistic relationship; to a lesser extent, I think this applies to Jerryd Bayless, which is why I tried to get Golliver to ask Pritchard just what they saw in Bayless. Did they think of him vis a vis a template, and worry about his imperfections, his tweener-nes, or see him as a singularity that would really put some balls back in "best available. "Best available" as a way forward, not a cop-out. FYI, that's kind of what I think the Thunder are doing, and I applaud them for it.
Yet so far, all thinking along these lines has been in the context of a system. The redemption of such players comes when, organically, they fit into a plan. They are, in some sense, without form until they fit. Or, no matter how sympathetically, they're bent and warped slightly to work well within whatever normal, or abnormal, system they've been cast in. They could be tweeners well-coached, multi-purpose threats, or guys responsibly down for whatever (Hedo!!). But what of the Westbrooks, possibly Bayless and Barbosa, maybe Tyreke Evans—all minscule heirs to Dwyane Wade, a player who at every turn has resisted pigeon-holing and even too much law and order from possession to possession. Not because he's selfish, but because he works best when set loose and asked to explode. With that will come equal parts individual and team, but you can't see it coming and planning for it is something of a fool's errand. Compare that with LeBron's "allow me to be all pillars of your temple" functionality.
You wonder, then, what's the way to describe Westbrook? I've written previously about a redistribution of labor, either on the macro or micro level within a team. Are there not, though, players most suited not to responding to these signals from the realm of ideas, but to serving as catalysts in their own right, whose mismatched, or garbled skill-sets is proof not that they don't fit in, or are to become lepers in the taxonomy of scouting (I love Jamal Crawford, but we're not talking about his kind of limbo here). We still think of these players, and even superstars like Durant, in terms of how they might best be used to make sense of the usual slate of basketball responbiltiies. Durant can, in a sense, become a position unto himself. But either through their relative insignificance, or sheer, explosive weirdness, there's a whole class of smaller players who are best served as fields of probability, abilities that cohere more as a mess of intriguing tendencies than a CV-ready mission statement. This is nothing less than the difference between believing in skills and being cowed by the notion of responsibility.
(Graphs by Ziller. This is the spectrum of positionality. Blue dots are continuity, red ones isolated occurrences.)
I want to step back here and nod in the direction of a conversation Silverbird5000 and I had the other day concerning, on some base level, stats. We eventually returned to the question of whether, in the most crude sense, something like adjusted +/- presumes (as Berri certainly does) that it's better to have a team full of players equally good at offense and defense, at perimeter and the paint, than a collection of folks who excel at some things but suck at others. Forget for a second that what I've just described is pretty much the way teams are built, since the game is as much a series of encounters in the moment as an overall flow of data, and dominance gets you more mileage than playing it close in all departments. But it also dawned on me how much this ultra-conservative version of basketball (where, say, you'd take two players that are 5 in all categories as opposed to two with a wider range of "scores") resembles a team like the Warriors of legend, where even Baron Davis could blur his PG's role with Jackson around, or the Amare-less Suns, or that ideal D'Antoni team mentioned in the press at one point of "all 6'8" guys who can run and pass."
Here, of course, is where the ultra-right and ultra-left unwittingly crash into each other, when Communism becomes Fascism, or communes giving way to cults. I doubt it ever works the other way—a sinister consolidation of power and crushing of all opposition giving way to egalitarian sunshine and light? But certainly, the nexus is both unlikely and potential ammunition for both sides, even if it's that moment where you look across the battlefield and realize your enemy is human. We all want the same thing, sometimes.
And now, we come to what should be the topic of the hour, Allen Iverson. I find it fascinating that, ever since the 2001 Finals, even those who decry ballhogs and bemoan the death of the league have a soft spot for the guy. He's heart personified, guts on a stick, a performer whose sheer visceral and emotional impact on fans is like being hit by an unshorn tidal wave. He is, in short, a stone classic, a Hall of Famer, and one of the most important players in the game (even if you want to argue over whether he's one of the best). But he's been both ahead of his time and, in his uncompromising version of the Wade philosophy, a prototype that could not move forward without reforms. It's a given by now: AI can't play any other way. Even with Melo, when he racked up assists and worked well with another scorer, he set the tone and rhythm of every possession, and forced all around him to pick on his idiosyncratic sense of timing, space, and cues.
We can argue over whether or not the 2000-01 Sixers were effectively built around him, since no one else on there even needs to touch the ball. I'd say, though, that in retrospect, Iverson isn't the man who wrecked the guard position, but a phenomenal talent who can't help himself—actually, can't help but transcend the very notion of roles and responsibilities. As irresponsible as it sounds, Iverson only works when you give him the ball and let him improvise. Let what come may. Not because he's a ball-hog, but because the game only comes to him on those terms. Just as, for the guards discussed above, there's too much going on there (and sometimes missing there) to try and assign them clear-cut responsibilities. We're talking about a stylistic profile, a new way of mapping an ordinarily maddening kind of player. Inconvenient truths, but ones that have yielded fruits at times. Iverson is perhaps too extreme to even fit this model, but what he would need is a team built to respond to his disproportionate hits and misses—not a normal one that pretends he's a point guard, or even one where he's paired with a complementary player, as if Iverson were merely singular, not totally fluid.
All of which brings us to Lamar Odom. At this point, the "could've been Magic" has turned from regret on fans' part to a kind of background myth: "That Lamar Odom sure is good, did you know he could've been Magic?" I'd say, though, that at this point in his career the Lakers use him precisely as this kind of x-factor. I'm sure it's a pain in the ass for the coaching staff, but allowing Odom to shape-shift within the triangle, as opposed to cast him as KG-esque New Synthesis, is exactly what's allowed him to finally gain legitimacy. We can only hope that, whatever happens to Iverson next, in cast more in the light of forward-thinking strategy, rather than the Angel Gabriel handing out pizzas in the Stone Age.
ABSOLUTELY ENORMOUS UPDATE:
Per audience request, here's Anthony Randolph's profile. We flipped it on its side and added some pentagrams to make it even weirder than it already is. However, also take note that we've added "handle" and "low TO's", so when you're looking at the other graphs, imagine those on there, too. They should only further affirm what we have discovered to be true.
[All part of my six-step program to get me back blogging regularly, Shoals joined me last night to chat up the Orlando-Boston game. As usual, heavy editing was done to make this sound somewhat interesting and to preserve our credibility]
Dr. Lawyer IndianChief: I want to talk about the Oscars at some point Bethlehem Shoals: Did you see Rondo break up an alley-oop earlier? That seemed especially germane, given yesterday's post. Dr. LIC: I give in, Rondo is good. He still kind of seems like a product of the environment, though BS: I don't think so. It's not like he's leading the league in assists, or they're always out in transition. Dr. LIC: I have a working theory that confidence is the only thing that distinguishes a great player from a good player. Tony Parker/Manu Ginobili were considered pedestrian before they got confidence. Now the same thing is going on with Rondo. Those guys never got better, they just got confident. Dr. LIC: Wait, this might be an incredibly stupid theory
BS: Parker got better. He was totally one-dimensional and had terrible judgment. Dr. LIC: What was his one dimension? BS: Effetely fast.
Dr. LIC: Did Doc Rivers just say "ass?" BS: Webber said "ass" earlier. "Ass day" is the new "Fan Night."
Dr. LIC: Have we discussed Bowen getting more votes than Melo, Dirk, Gasol, and Artest? BS: That is obscene, and makes me think that All-Star voting is really lame, if San Antonio is champs at it. Dr. LIC: That is some Obama in Iowa shit BS: I mean, that explains why Duncan is in every year, despite everyone not caring about him. BS: Oh one thing . .. the transition game Boston has is all because of Rondo's growth. Just wanted to get that out there.
BS: The Celtics bench is like a bad version of Animal House.
Dr. LIC: Orlando's achilles heel is their lack of home court advantage BS: Why are there people cheering for the Celtics? Because of Doc Rivers? Dr. LIC: Because of STARS?! BS: Dwight Howard is a bigger star than anyone on the Celtics. He got three million votes, and none of them were from San Antonio Dr. LIC: Probably from foreigners, though
Dr. LIC: What if Howard's dunk contest win changed him and the Magic forever? BS: It did. And what's weird is that the media points to that more often than the Olympics as his big breakthrough, even though they aren't explicit about what the nature of the breakthrough was. It's their grudging default. Dr. LIC: THE DUNK CONTEST IS BACK BS: It's back with that fucking Nelson/Howard commercial. NO PANTS ALLOWED.
Dr. LIC: I dont think I saw a single game of the Olympics. In my defsen, there is a psychology article about why people prefer watching live vs. taped sporting events, but I can't remember why BS: Which is why you're sleeping on Wade Dr. LIC: Wade would be so much iller if his name was pronounced Wah-day and he was Nigerian BS: You're getting him mixed up with Iguodala. Also, people prefer live events because they don't know the outcome. Dr. LIC: Right, but what if you still don't know the outcome? BS: Someone does, somewhere. And it gnaws at you Dr. LIC: Really? What about movies? Other people have seen them, they know the outcome. You don't care?
Dr. LIC: Turkoglu has sneaky length BS: I was trying to figure out Gasol's relationship with length. It's sort of the same thing. Dr. LIC: I thought he had a dwarf wingspan for his size BS: It's like his arms grow as he moves them Dr. LIC: His hair makes him an optical illusion BS: Actually, that might be it. You expect him to dunk, but he ends up laying it in at the rim. Which makes it look like his length came out of nowhere, when in fact, it shouldn't even have come down to one of those actions that screams "length." Dr. LIC: Yeah, but the alternative explanation is "he's just a Euro" BS: Like he's a wuss with the length? There's no elasticity or snap to it? Dr. LIC: I get the sense he has weak bones. No vitamin D. BS: Umm, Gasol's wingspan is 7'5". So you can cut everything we said about its magically growing. It is just that he's a Euro.
BS: Webber is absolutely killing it right now Dr. LIC: Webber has nothing to lose anymore BS: He's also like the anti-cliche machine. Has anyone else ever called out a GM in reference to all-star voting? And the pain is so real. . .
Dr. LIC: I just thought of something I found strange: I got an email from nba.com encouraging me to vote for All-Stars multiple times. They're basically begging people to screw up the system (To clarify: They want people to vote multiple times...i didn't get the message multiple times) BS: I will say this About amare, who I don't think deserves to start: I like thinking he set up that site and YouTube campaign just so Bowen wouldn't get in. That's noble and awesome. Dr. LIC: Amare is being bitchy this year BS: Amare needs a coach. Also, someone should call out Shaq for not keeping amare in line/making him get through the darkness. Dr. LIC: Kerr needs to cut his losses and fire Porter. Bring in ANYONE high profile. Or Cotton Fitzsimmons
Dr. LIC: People in San Antonio are likely unemployed => MORE VOTING BS: I wonder how All-Star voting correlates with unemployment Dr. LIC: The NBA city with the highest unemployment rate is Detroit BS: Yeah, of course, but Iverson would've gotten in anyway Dr. LIC: . . . followed by Sacramento. Damn, too bad i can't control for population with this data. BS: DID YOU HEAR THAT, ZILLER?!?! Even Salmons is more worthy than Bowen. Come on, get on this. BTW, this from Tom last night:
Anthony Randolph was born in East Germany (Wurzbach) in 1989, six months before the Wall fell.
Donté Greene was born in West Germany (Munich) in 1988.
(I have no clue why Randolph was born under a Soviet flag. His parents are military, he grew up in Pasadena. I don't see any U.S. military installations particularly close to Wurzbach, though the town is near the West-East border.)
Dr. LIC: By the way, LeBron was six years old when House Party came out BS: You're not allowing for sequels.
BS: Have you ever thought about how the All-Star game helped promote small ball/positional fluidity through its refusal to designate SF/PF or PG/SG? Actually, that's probably just a throwback to when guards were more skilled and there was more SF/PF overlap instead of SG/SF overlap. Dr. LIC: Something we always allude to but never say straight up: If you're a SF, you're basically screwed Dr. LIC: Beasley, Durant, Carmelo, Gay can never be a one man team BS: I can see that. The 2/3 "swingman" can handle, which is why they can be a one-man team, as in the iso era, which is why we're somehow still stuck with that overlap today. That's what's so throwback about Melo: He needs a point guard. BS: Actually, Durant can handle. Has handle, whatever. Dr. LIC: I remember a few years ago I was part of a focus group for Nike. They were asking us (a bunch of young folk) if there was any cool basketball slang we knew of that might be region-specific or whatever. I mentioned that it was popular for people in Minneapolis to say "poke" for "dunk." "Took your cookies" was the one that generated the most noise around the table. Dr. LIC: All of this meaning i have no idea how to express someone's "handle". BS: I think it's like having a head—you never really need to say it's there. You need to with "put the ball on the floor," but handle is self-evident, because it's expected that certain positions will have some handle or other. Dr. LIC: What is Lewis? BS: Lewis is a black Euro
BS: The Recluse used to always say that the SF was once a tweener slot. Not strong enough at shooting to be a guard, but not strong enough to play 4. Dr. LIC: Wait, what if the 2 AND 3 are completely just tweener positions? 2's can't pass/facilitate, but are too small to play traditional small forward. BS: Well yeah, but also the 2 and 3 get conflated. So basically everything that's not a 1 or Andrew Bynum is a mutt. Incidentally, LeBron really has no position anymore. Especially because West and Williams are both combo guards, and Big Z is shooting 3's.
Dr. LIC: Boston is going to make some insane deals at the deadline. BS: For whom? Marion? Dr. LIC: You're gonna see crazy people coming out of retirement. Webber. . . BS: SHAQ Dr. LIC: Marbury? BS: Marion is the new Marbury.
BS: One time some Celtics moron wrote a fake "retirement of Len Bias" post, that imagined he'd never been the greatest he was supposed to be, but still ended up being darn useful. Dr. LIC: I should do that for Malik Sealy BS: I left a comment that mentioned the fact that some people's hearts just don't deal well with coke, it's a total crapshoot when you die. And he deleted it! Dr. LIC: Well, IT LIVES NOW BS: I found some public access show once of Malik Sealy's family talking about what they learned from him and how they used it to succeed in life. Dr. LIC: Malik Sealy's family isn't doing too well last I heard. By the way, the driver who killed him has been arrested for like two DUI's since BS: Maybe it was an old show. Dr. LIC: I met this dude in SF a few years ago who said he ran a recording studio with Sealy in new york and it was like D&D level.
BS: Did you hear that? Rondo=confidence. BS: You know, i think with Rondo, as with Manu, the team just had to figure out what they had on their hands. Dr. LIC: I didn’t hear it. . . I muted it to watch this D&D All-Stars video on YouTube. BS: Um, I thought you'd typed "it was like a D&D level"
BS: Notice, Boston as a team looks much better this year=Rondo looks better. So he's not a product of the environment, he's an integral part of it. Dr. LIC: Nah, it's like a Moebius strip.
BS: Let me tell you why I don't like the Magic: They have the ultimate modern big man and a very effective meat and potatoes PG. And everyone else launches threes Dr. LIC: That is NBA moneyball, though BS: Not really, when Shard has a max deal Dr. LIC: Well, the NBA cap situation makes REAL moneyball somewhat irrelevant. But that's the formula. BS: 2005-06 suns are moneyball. Nash for cheap, Diaw for nothing, Marion, and a bunch of shooters.
BS: Doug Collins is now taking seriously Pierce's "i'm the best in the world" comment because he was MVP. of the finals and is underrated as one-on-one player. Pierce has become so overrated he's underrated. Plus he has self-esteem issues, which should be endearing but aren't. Dr. LIC: I'm just going to take this opportunity to say KG's allusion to superman w/r/t pierce was SO F--KING CORNY. BS: Superman's always corny, so it only works with corny players, i.e. big men. Otherwise, it's DOUBLE-CORNY.
BS: Wait, did Collins just intentionally imply that Reddick has problems figuring out which three-point line to shoot from? men's or womens??!?! Dr. LIC: You know that song "Patches" by Clarence Carter? I am trying to think of some 90s rap song where the rapper sang the chorus or a version of that chorus. Does that ring any bells? It's driving me insane. First Fugees album maybe? BS: This Turturro commercial is like the wop Love and Death. Dr. LIC We need to interview Turturro. He has played a Jew, an Arab, a Latino, an Italian with perfect cultural sensitivity.
It's the off-season, where we ignore people on the court and retreat into the realm of the theoretical. Except for when Anthony Randolph scores 30, which sends me scurrying to said theoretical realm with a newfound urgency.
We all know what Liberated Fandom is. Despite all the chaos prompted by this spring's high-stakes Lakers/Celtics series, it remains pretty simple: Fuck where you live, who raised you, what's on tv the most. Make an exhaustive survey of the league and cling onto what moves you, even if it's a lost cause. That can be individuals, a team, or a subset of individuals on a team.
Yes, there's a degree of aestheticism to it, but more importantly, it's about having the freedom to exercise taste in basketball. If that means only jocking winners, fine. If that means pursuing only teams doomed to fail, that's rosy as well. It doesn't even matter if there's little or no consistency to these allegiances, or if they're totally fleeting in nature. What's important is that you maximize your positive enjoyment of the league, in an era that offers far from perfect pro ball product.
This site's other great conceptual shibboleth is the notion of the Positional Revolution. Roughly, this means that traditional positions are cast aside, or deconstructed, in favor of something both new and effective. However, when you actually sit down with this idea, tangles become evident. For one, the Suns and Warriors have long been touted as the apogee of this movement, with the Hawks in this year's playoffs a sentimental entry on the ledger.
Conventional wisdom is that these teams pursued something resembling true apositionality, where roles and responsibilities were flexible from one moment to the next. Of course, the catch here is that Phoenix and Golden State relied on absolutely elite point guards; we can split hairs about the degree to which Nash produced that team's being at any given moment, vs. Baron's reliance on the collective playmaking ectoplasm. It seems, though, that we have no choice but to accept the point guard paradox, and perhaps state that its stability allows other responsibilities rise and fall organically.
However, this kind of extremism is, while very charismatic, unrealistic, infrequent, and, as the Warriors and Hawks prove, such a function of chemistry and circumstance that it may not even be real. If the Positional Revolution stands for player flexibility, or a redistribution of responsibilities, it's almost insane to expect this ever-shifting tapestry of style, in which each player becomes both an existential whir of uncertainty, and the team's sense of order thrives on something that skirts disorder. (Note: Ziller wonders if the ideal apositional team wouldn't be comprised entirely of Diaws and LeBrons, which is dangerously close to what we heard D'Antoni's dream was when he came to New York, which again raises the question of whether the pure PG is the source of this freedom or a compromise).
What I don't get, though, is why the Suns have been held up as a model for the rest of the league, when they represent near the lunatic fringe of positional fluidity. For one, why don't teams see Phoenix as an impractical ideal, but apply this philosophy of flexibility less radically. Instead of changing everything on an instantaneous level, why not just redistribute responsibilities more statically, or at least less dizzying in their iterations?
Does that sound hopelessly vague? All I'm asking is that teams show a little fucking imagination. This fixation on the Suns model, which makes apositionality the goal, is too literal. What the Suns teach us is that imagination can get somewhere. Imaginative coaching just might have a shot in this league. It's not about getting a team full of players who can do everything, but just about organizing what you've got in a creative manner. This can stem from having a franchise player whose singular talents demand this approach: That's the tragedy of Garnett in Minny, probably Iverson in Philly, LeBron right now, and quite possibly Durant for a while. I may not be the ultimate coach, but it's not so hard to imagine that, if the focal point of a team is a complex individual, the team's (relatively static) structure must follow suit.
Or, on the most basic level, what about simply creating some new roles that translate across teams? The Anthony Randolph postulate is thus: There clearly now exists a long, springy brand of forward whose offense consists mostly of reaching, floating, and dunking. Very little in the way of polished moves. They grab boards without really banging, block shots, and have the foot speed to stay with the likes of Richard Jefferson or Melo (the former model for "three by elimination"). Of course, the fact that Randolph got drafted by a team that specializes in ignoring positions, not re-defining them, might obscure or impede his particular case.
Why exactly couldn't this become a new type of SF, who would then be paired with a PF that has some outside shooting? Or be included on a team where the PG packs an offensive wallop? When I look at the Raptors this season—and yes, I am usually wrong about the Raptors—O'Neal's arrival seems like a chance for Bosh to once and for all stop trying to be a "big man," and instead embrace his legacy as the Next Garnett, in the sense that Young Garnett has only managed to make it as a "big man" because he is absolutely indomitable.
I also can't help but think toward the Bulls. Why exactly is it a problem to just fucking play Tyrus Thomas, and figure out a way to have Deng and Gooden pick up the slack he creates? Wasn't one of the fonding principles of Phoenix that Marion would cover everyone's ass? Not as glamorous as an offense that boggles the mind, but without those contingencies, that team would never have had a chance when it came to defense or rebounding.
And so I collapse. Not tired, or betrayed by the Revolution, but wondering if all the glare hasn't distracted us from seeing a more viable, if less orgiastic, road to the future.
Dark, dark times by the fountain of Shoals. For one, my laptop/couch set-up has finally caught up with my hands, arms, and wrists, and I'm trying to make a lifestyle change before it's too late. Also, I've been watching 2-3 episodes of Dexter a day, and now I keep hearing the "shit's ominous" music and a Michael C. Hall voice-over in my head. Hence the inactivity.
But let's not underestimate the degree to which the Gerald Wallace concussion has fucked with me. You think it's sad that Yao's out? At least he's not—gulp—being forced to consider retirement. The Pete Reiser-esque style points for this are off the charts, but let's be real. As a fan, this is really dismal. No less troubling is the "he must change his game" mutterings I've heard from the AP. Wallace has become far more rangy and guard-ish this season; it's not about that. It's not even about going to the hoop hard and inviting contact, the culprit in Dwyane Wade and T.J. Ford's respective stuttering careers. No, Wallace is being asked to turn off his motor. It's the only time in NBA history that it's been suggested that a player try less hard.
Oh, lest someone call me self-absorbed, GET WELL SOON GERALD!!!!!
Anyway, I know that with the Suns reconfigured and reeling, the Positional Revolution may no longer be relevant. But in a way, this Wallace injury is the dark side of that trend, what happens when it's stumbled into or falls into the wrong hands. Read this Rick Bonnell post, which turns Wallace's head problem into a question of his spot on the floor. Part of me wants to scream "reductionist" at it—both for the sake of GW's wonder and all that he represents—but this last, Moore-administered blow falls soundly in this category. Watch the tape: He's in the paint, guarding a big man one-on-one. Hitting the floor frequently is one thing, as is dunking a lot in the lane. I hope those don't have to go. Here, though, we have a plain example of why, on the most primeval level, small ball can be a terrible idea.
Speaking of which, the Rockets. Dr. LIC has already let us see his opinions on Yao; some of you commenters have me slightly amped about the Rockets going small, a lot because T-Mac's looked great lately. But let me make a true cofession: Rafer Alston drives me nuts. He alone keeps me from regularly watching Houston, even when I lived there. He's like a poor man's Jason Williams, or one of those nineties Knicks guards if he weren't on the nineties Knicks.
I wouldn't say I irrationally dislike the guy, like I do Shane Battier; if anything, he's one of the most gracious interviewees I've ever heard, and everyone I know who has dealt with him says he's great. It's just his game. It bugs me. Do any of you have a player who poses a similar stumbling block for your NBA consumption?
And I'll end with a very, very rough idea that might piss someone off. I've been thinking a lot about athlete's endorsements of Obama, and whether in this case, their voices matter more in politics. Oden's on board,Baron Davis has spoken up, and I suspect there will be more. Usually, athlete politics only get noticed if they're extreme. Otherwise, no one listens, and there's a functional church/state split in place. Also, I am by no means assuming that every NBA player will vote for Obama, or vote at all.
Here's the thing, though: Obama could be our real life FBP. Athletes are extremely high-profile African-Americans, in a business that, like it or not, is intensely racialized. I wonder if, for better or worse, they will have more pull—or at least have their endorsements taken more seriously, and them allowed the right to be political voices. Not because Obama plays basketball or whatever, but because an Obama election would, to some degree, end up being about race in America. And for many Americans, athletes are a big part of that puzzle.
