Dream Week: Paint the White House Green

FD's Undisputed Guide to Pro Basketball History will be officially released on October 26, but the celebration is beginning early. Inspired, and curated, by Brian Phillips of Run of Play, DREAM WEEK features some of your fastest and most favorite writers trying to crack the mystery of Hakeem Olajuwon and his Rockets.

Kevin Pelton is co-author of Pro Basketball Prospectus 2010-11, and a regular contributor to Basketball Prospectus. He also considers himself an amateur Sonics historian in his spare time. Follow him on Twitter at @kpelton.

We talk a lot about Hakeem Olajuwon in the context of his rivals. Olajuwon peaked during an era when the NBA was blessed with an abundance of Hall of Fame talent at the center position, and he was able to prove his superiority in head-to-head showdowns. During the 1994 and 1995 postseasons, Olajuwon's Rockets eliminated Patrick Ewing's Knicks, David Robinson's Spurs and Shaquille O'Neal's Magic. Each time, Olajuwon comfortably outplayed his rival to win the series' biggest matchup.

What has received less attention is the opponent Olajuwon never could top, his nemesis of sorts. You might assume that is a reference to Michael Jordan, but such a description would be unfair to Olajuwon, who never faced Jordan in a game with anything of consequence on the line after the 1982 Final Four, when both players were freshmen. He never got a chance to test himself against the Bulls in the NBA Finals. Instead, Olajuwon's true kryptonite was the Seattle SuperSonics, who owned him for an entire decade.

The numbers are striking, really. The Sonics' domination of Olajuwon and the Rockets was even greater than I remembered as a fan of the team growing up. From 1987 through 1996, the two teams squared off four times in the playoffs. The Sonics won every series, including season-ending defeats in 1993 and 1996 that bookended Houston's back-to-back championships. In 1996, the Sonics swept the two-time defending champs out of the playoffs. So much for the heart of a champion.

The 1996 sweep capped a two-year stretch in which the two teams played 12 times. The Rockets never won any of those matchups. All told, the Sonics put together a 13-game head-to-head winning streak that seems more appropriate for a series between a champion and a cellar-dweller, not two elite teams.

Now, I know what Houston fans are thinking. "What about 1997?" they counter. Well, that didn't count. Not because Shawn Kemp was on his way out of town amid rumors of his alcoholism, though that certainly did not help matters. (1) No, the problem is that the Rockets irreparably altered the landscape of the Western Conference by trading for Charles Barkley in the summer of 1996.



Up to that point, Houston, Phoenix and Seattle had been the conference's three elite teams, and they had an unusual relationship that can best be understood in the context of the game rock-paper-scissors. Each team had a matchup advantage over one of the others. The Sonics owned the Rockets, but struggled against Barkley and the Suns (who knocked them out of the playoffs in 1993 and won eight out of 15 head-to-head matchups from 1992-93 through 1994-95). Meanwhile, Houston always beat Phoenix. The Rockets won 10 of the 16 games between the teams from 1992-93 through 1995-96 and famously upset the Suns en route to both of their championships.

During this stretch, matchups were key to the outcome of the Western Conference postseason. The two years Houston won championships, the Rockets managed to avoid the Sonics, who were ignominiously upset in the opening round in 1994 and 1995. From this perspective, Robert Pack and Nick Van Exel were just as critical to Houston's back-to-back titles as Jordan's retirement. (2)

While Barkley was able to neutralize the Sonics' traps by facing up and playing away from the basket, the Seattle pressure defense was almost perfectly designed to frustrate Olajuwon. Rudy Tomjanovich's offense was built on a simple principle: Defenses would have to choose between letting Olajuwon play one-on-one in the post or giving up open three-pointers to the Rockets' shooters. Only the Sonics, because of their long, athletic defenders, could cut off both heads of the Houston attack.

With their ability to switch, trap and throw two and even three defenders at the post, the Sonics created a chaotic game that was anathema to the predictability the Rockets needed for their offense.

"We just have to play basketball, because our system, the way we organize, the way we go by the book, won't work against this team," Olajuwon told the Seattle Times in 1996. "You can't run a set offense against this team. We can't just bring the ball down, throw it inside, then kick it out." (3)

None of this is to say the Sonics shut Olajuwon down. In fact, some of his greatest performances came in defeat against Seattle. In the deciding Game 6 of the teams' series in 1987, Olajuwon had 49 points and 24 rebounds in a double-OT game. Still, the Sonics won. In the 1993 playoffs, when the two teams played an epic seven-game series that ultimately hinged on Seattle sweeping the teams' two-game season-opening series in Japan (4) (the home team won every game, but the Sonics held home-court advantage by virtue of winning the season series), Olajuwon recorded a double-double in every game and topped 20 points six times in seven games. Still, Seattle won.



What stands out in my memory from that 1993 series was how rarely Olajuwon rested. He played at least 44 minutes in four of the seven games, including an even 50 in Game 7, which went to overtime. (2) Every time Olajuwon did go to the bench, there was immense pressure on the Sonics to build up a lead against Houston's second unit. Even against the team that stopped him better than any other, Hakeem loomed larger than life.

(1) In fact, despite low shooting percentages and eight turnovers in Game 7 at Houston, Kemp had a good series before sealing his fate in Seattle by demanding a trade.

(2) Pack was key to Denver's stunning Game 5 win at the Seattle Center Coliseum, which made the Nuggets the first eight seed ever to win a series. Van Exel torched the Sonics throughout the Lakers' first-round victory the following year.

(3) This quote came after Game 2. Things would get no better in that series.

(4) It was on the long flight to Japan where Olajuwon apparently repaired his relationship with then-Houston owner Charlie Thomas. In another fascinating point of Olajuwon-Sonics connection, one of the deals the Rockets considered for their star would have brought back Benoit Benjamin, Derrick McKey and a second-year point guard named Gary Payton from Seattle. Now that's an interesting "what if?" Would Olajuwon and Shawn Kemp have become the greatest frontcourt duo of all time, or would they have gotten in each other's way in the paint? Would Payton have become a star with Otis Thorpe and Benjamin on the receiving end of his alley-oops?

(5) Stunningly, Rudy T did not want to go to a 37-year-old Tree Rollins.

Invites for Frost

I don't like what I'm hearing. Not from LeBron, who has boldly asserted that he could win the scoring title every year, but from the rest of us. No, it's not the case that any other player could top LeBron if both gunned all-out, Gervin/Thompson-style, each day of the night. You know why? Because unlike Durant or Melo, James has way more at his disposal. He could work the post, or just run up the court and through all defenders on every possession. Yes, it was a matter-of-fact statement, calm and hardly with the lurch of a braggart. At the same time, LeBron is differentiating himself from his peers. Hey, everybody, he has untapped potential still. He knows it, and if he totally broke out of a team system to go for numbers—which, incidentally, he is less likely to do than anyone on this short-list—amazing thing would happen. We used to know it, and now he's slipping it in himself. Going after him for it seems a waste of time, but at the same time, there is something chilling about this off-hand press release. Forget at your own peril.

I am about to say two things involving NBC's Pro Basketball Talk, both of which involve folks I consider e-pals. So no one think this is a mix-tape war. Kurt lead the "is this news?" charge on the LeBron front; to him, I say yes and no. In what order, I'm not sure. No, in that we should knew, but yes, in that he reminds us? Or yes, in that it he reminds us (and himself) what's still buried inside him, and no, after that it's a no-brainer. Let's move on. Krolik, whom some of you may remember from his contributions to this site, took poor Monta Ellis to task the same day for calling himself the third-best player in the league. First, I would like to thank John for bringing to my attention Rolling Stone's embrace of Durant. Of course, it all makes sense—KD, and the Thunder in general, are the most indie rock-friendly team in the league. They even took that from the Sonics' storied past. El ouch. As for the meat of the story, look, shouldn't Ellis be ignored even more forcefully than James? Let him have his fun. If you think he's the problem with the Warriors, you must have an undue amount of faith in the D-League.

Ellis isn't perfect, and his career is at loggerheads. But if an obviously talented, frustrated, and aimless still-young guard on a team built out of nonsense brags to a generally indifferent media, is he really going to war? Not to neglect my role as a member of the media, but come on, let's give Ellis a break. At least until we're all convinced that he's being given a chance to screw up convincingly. Neither his non "right way" play (either caps or quotations all the time, I thought), nor his inflated ego are tethered to reality. I don't know, maybe I'm underestimating all these call-ups. But this is a man floating through trauma. Do we really want to hold him accountable in the same way—even less so, maybe—than the game's best player? Ellis may deserve more grief than James, and is certainly empirically wrong in a slew of ways, but it's only LeBron James whose words have any meaning past the narrow context of "punk spews crap" headline.

Oh, and Amare hates T-Mac. Pass it on.

A Quick Dove's Cry for Seattle

Consider this the flitting Sonics post for all non-Seattle residents. Also peep Shoals' thoughts below

So much electronic ink has been spilled on the Sonics affair that saying my piece is probably the most superfluous and egocentric thing I can do. Nonetheless, the whole situation makes my stomach drop. I come from a state where the only championship-winning pro sports team in the last millenium, the Minnesota Twins, was almost contracted a few years ago. Timberwolves fans have been exodus-ing by the 1000s over the past four years. And even the beloved Vikings are constantly being talked about as potential candidates for reestablishing an NFL franchise in LA. Oh, also, OUR MOTHERFUCKING HOCKEY TEAM was moved to Dallas in 1994. Think: transporting all of the croissants in France, to Italy.

Bottom line is that I want to echo what everyone else has been shouting to all of the non-residents of New York and Boston: It could happen to you, and F that.
















For the first 23 years of my life, I knew exactly one person from Seattle, but I believe--and feel free to back me up here--that everyone who grew up in the 1980s who paid any attention to basketball felt some odd connection to the Seattle Supersonics. I think it was the colors. They drew you in the same way the LA Rams and Milwaukee Brewers 1980s uniforms did, on some weird synaesthetic experience. I remember seeing that green and gold on an Xavier McDaniel basketball card I received when I was eight years old, and I remember liking that card so much that I would carry it around with me places. There is something about that color scheme that I strongly believe resonates with our childlike nature.

When Shawn Kemp came on the scene, we--Sports Illustrated for Kids devoted readers all of us--lost our minds. We had never seen anything like that before. Sure, Jordan was superhuman, but he was also too fucking smart. He could pass the ball and play defense and motivate his teammates. A Shawn Kemp dunk, on the other hand, took no thought to process. Again, it touched at some automatic emotional component inside of us that had been present since we were babies. Shawn Kemp dunking was the physical manifestation of that green and gold.

So, a thousand pardons for the sopping cliche, but for my generation of sports fans: losing the Sonics = losing youth.

What Could Make It Change?

What a bummer of an afternoon on here, and then the Sonics settlement. I come here not to moan, or bang my fist anymore. I will not curse Stern because sorry, I like him more than the city I call home, flawed as he is. I still don't like Oklahoma City, except for records and UNLV tees. But as I told a Tulsa station right before the draft (I think they'd brought me on to fight about the trial), I just wanted it to be over. Clay Bennett is an asshole, and the city of Seattle has bigger sports fish to fry, like MLS. But none of that has to come back on the fans; both are viable NBA cities, deserve teams, and will have them sooner rather than later.

Seth, far more Seattle than I, pessimistically reminded me to look down in Charlotte. And you could argue that things are worse, since here the team itself was part of the city's identity and tradition, not just a successful team that instilled some civic pride. Still, Seattle keeps the colors and logo, which is (as Seth also said) could be the Browns all over again. And anyone thinking the Grizzlies are long for Memphis are hysterically optimistic.

To repeat something I've said a zillion times: Seattle didn't have interest in a losing team, especially once Bennett razed it. In OKC, the NBA will be the only show in town (like the Hornets once were). But all those wild crowds were feeding off of what the roving Hornets stood for, the initial novelty, and, oh yeah, Chris Paul. There will be a honeymoon, but if the team sucks or Bennett is an asshole to his own people—that's Charlotte all over again.

So congratulations Clay, you stole a team. Now you've got the daunting task of actually running one.

One a more sunny note, here are two videos I enjoyed:

Zapruder of my Soul

I have so many complicated feelings about that Nuggets/Sonics game that it will take a crew of armed men to sort them out. First, I watched most of it on Stat Tracker, even though I was right by the television. Such is the allure of Discovery Channel's "Health Care and the Pyramids" program, and my utter basketball fatigue at this point. Also, I didn't particularly feel like seeing the Nuggets lose to the Sonics (if they were going to), since I badly need them in this year's playoffs.

Then I noticed that I was watching Durant's best, most brazen game as a pro. . . from through the veil of a one-dimensional interface. I turned it on in time to see the second miracle shot, which made sense only if you figure his arms put him about three feet closer to the basket than someone with less outlandish proportions.

But the real reason I needed this game: My fantasy team's future came down to it. I have a lovable team of, well, fuck-ups who shouldn't win you anything. Nash and Boozer are cool, but from there it's Josh Smith, Joe Johnson, and Horford, Outlaw, Garcia, Crawford. You get the picture. My team had devolved into an excuse to follow players whose stat lines I find aesthetically pleasing, all this since I was summarily mocked for swapping Paul/Chandler for Johnson/Smith, and earlier getting fleeced by the assurances of one Tom Ziller—sure, Salmons will still productive once Artest is back, making Salmons/Horford for Rudy Gay perfectly fair. I was adrift.

Yet somehow, I ended up in the semi-finals, against a real powerhouse. I jumped out to an early lead, the gap closed, and then by last night, it was close. My team played horribly, but my enemy's Brad Miller sat out. So it came down to field goal percentage, with me up .002%. I had Garcia and J.R. Smith, and was hoping they wouldn't do too much damage. My opponent was looking to a resurgent Elton Brand and Linas Kleiza, who irks me.



What happened next is the stuff of either fate, conspiracy theories, or the outright absurdity of fantasy sports. I only found out the full story after the fact; I clicked away from the Sonics game before it had actually ended, since my girl was not about to miss the beginning of John Adams. But according to my esteemed foe, here's the perfect storm that sent my bunch of holy fools into the finals:

-Garcia is shooting terribly, but then leaves the game with an injury
-Brand is tearing it up; the Clippers stop going to him, then Al Thornton starts chucking away every time he touches the ball

So it all comes down to J.R., who has played very little, and Kleiza. I'll let the message board take over here:

Double overtime, 20 seconds left, the Sonics are up 5. I am trailing the feelings 5-4 with the key statistic being FG% where I am behind .002 percent. The ball is inbounded to J.R. Smith who takes a three and misses badly. I am now down .001% Fine I say, look, I lost, it was extraordinarily close, but so it goes. I can take the close loss. Meanwhile, though, the sonics take some free throws, Iverson scores a bucket and the sonics take some more free throws. There are now 4.6 seconds left and the Nuggets are down 6 points.

Camby gets the ball and who does he inbound to? J.R. Smith! Smith takes the ball languidly up the court, the rest of the teams are heading to the locker room, shaking hands etc.

If J.R. Smith just runs the clock out I wouldn't have said anything, but instead he takes the shot from just inside half court right on the sideline. The ball is up, about fifteen feet out of his hands! I'm going to tie, possibly win outright if the shot is worth .002, but then, out of nowhere, Earl Watson runs into J.R. Smith, with the ball 15 feet out of his hands and .08 seconds left. The ball falls harmlessly 12 feet short of the basket but the officials call the foul. Why did they call the foul? The game was over? Why did Watson foul him from 48 feet away when the game was over? Why did I lose by .001 percent because of Earl Fucking Watson? I was going for back to back titles! I would have won in the finals, but Earl fucking Watson decides to foul from 48 feet with the game already decided.

So I'm lurching in the championship, against a team whose key strategy was selling the farm for Shawn Marion at the trade deadline. How he got this far is a story for another day.

I have very mixed feelings about this. It's all too appropriate that Smith would somehow propel me onward. But he didn't do it with a clutch three, or the kind of scoring outburst that justifies having him on my team. In fact, he very nearly blew it for me. . . until my absolute least favorite player in the league swooped in and fed me a Jesus. Smith did something stupid, both fulfilling his being and betraying that maturity we've been hearing so much about. What Watson did is beyond the pale of stupid. It's barely even basketball.



Has a basketball game ever pulled me more ways at once? I doubt it. And I didn't even watch the damn thing.

(P.S. If anyone has video I can embed, holler.)