The offseason is a gimmick.
(N.B: This post works best if read while listening to "Roundball Magic." Click here.)
While this precinct of the interwebs makes no effort to masquerade as though it's NBA agnostic, it is also an aspiring haven for real talk. As such, I will readily admit that the Lig has its problems. Though some, like the supposedly end-of-days Tim Donaghy situation, are overstated in severity, they certainly exist. One of the warts? Too many regular season games feel inconsequential, in part due to listless performances and in part due to the heavy emphasis that fans and commentators place on the playoffs. A late-March "showdown" between the Hawks and Sixers is degraded when solely calibrated by our annual emphasis on the playoffs and the narratives we hope to either validate or create.
Only in the NBA are a team's fortunes distilled into the stories of individuals. And this isn't news. You could perhaps argue that there is an entire website devoted to masterfully relaying this truth. But it warrants repeating. I think of it like this: We know Tom Brady. And we appreciate Derek Jeter. But the Patriots are winning as a sublime whole maximizing its parts--the team, the team, the team!--and the Yankees lose not because of bad players, but because of poor hitting and inconsistent pitching, impersonal diseases. In the NBA, it's different. In the NBA, the Rockets do not advance because Tracy McGrady cannot make it so. No one wants to talk about the team's poor interior defense. At least, not until an individual comes along to absorb that story into his own, personal tale (see Scola, Luis, reputed to be a solution for some of Yao's--an individual--limitations).
That the rhetorical style employed to fashion NBA reality can be so exclusionary during the regular season has long been discomfiting. It is, after all, valid to criticize a competition in which so many of the elements have a negligible effect on the outcome, both actual and perceived. However, the delicious paradox of our collective NBA attitude is that it also allows one to divine meaning when none might otherwise be had. A Royals-Devil Rays series in September means nothing. And Hawks-Sixers on March 19th has similar value as we prepare to lionize those who succeed in the playoffs and exaggerate the frailties of those who fail. But if we divorce the NBA style of storytelling from the common retrospective application, we can, instead, find significance in almost everything. And again, this is a unique NBA asset. The die-hard baseball fan may love Royals-Devil Rays, but no one else will. The die-hard NBA fan may love Hawks-Sixers, but even a more casual observer may find engagement in the progression of Josh Smith. Baseball doesn't commonly have a Josh Smith; the way that we talk about the sport doesn't allow for him to exist.
The ultimate point is that the NBA is a league of individuals. Basketball fans will always find appeal in spacing or defensive rotations, but in the NBA, these delights are augmented and commonly superseded by the men who perform them. Few people, even basketball junkies, wonder if you saw how the Magic ran their fastbreak last night. However, many would like to know if you saw how Dwight Howard finished. And resultantly, as I welcome the commencement of a new season, I couldn't care less if the Hawks and Sixers are playing for ping pong balls by the end of the year. That game will mean something.
I can't recall an NBA offseason quite like that which has served as a prelude to this week. With a straight face (and you'll have to trust me since I don't make web videos), I think it might be fair to call this past offseason the most exciting of all time. Not due to player movement--there have been years with more free agents signed and trades consummated--but due to story development. When have there ever been so many compelling stories converging in one season?
We're lucky, if you think about it. There is no downtime when we chronicle the Association through the stories of its players. Months without games only enhance those with them, as the men whose lives--not just careers--we catalogue return from the psychodramas of trade demands, the personal anguish of divorce, the triumph of ascendancy, and the many other ingredients we cast into our narrative stew. These past months, in particular, have been incredible.
Consider:
- A year after carrying a terrible team to the NBA Finals, LeBron James is on the verge of emerging as the signature individual in a league dominated by them;
- A year after playing his way above the fray, Kobe Bryant returns a discontented foil, every bit the talent that James is but a lone wolf seeking personal redemption amidst criticism. The league should be terrified;
- A year after succumbing to injury and ignominy, Dwyane Wade finds himself as the forgotten member of the NBA's procession of young leaders. Will he serve notice that it was only a temporary diminution?
- A year after becoming the media's universally beloved figure, Gilbert Arenas must now demonstrate that he is more than eccentricities and first-round exits;
- A year after cementing his legacy as the greatest team winner since Bill Russell--"team winner" meaning someone who enables the team, not someone, like Michael, who was the team--Tim Duncan must now further define an all-time niche by finally repeating, the one accomplishment that has evaded his grasp;
- A year after suffering in silence through the degradation of irrelevance, Kevin Garnett must now find redemption for himself and the once-proud franchise he's inherited.
And so we could continue. Will 'Melo seize the mantle of "leader" and have the Nuggets playing like the focused Ruff Ryders of Vol. 1 or the disjointed mess that phoned in Vol. 2? Will A.I. let him? Will Chris Paul and Deron Williams emerge as true superstars? Is Dwight Howard a manchild terror or merely an excellent rebounder? I cannot recall a year when so many distinct story arcs commanded so much attention.
Among mainstream journalists, the NBA is approaching a nadir, what with the officiating issues, the commonly cited canard that the NBA is "unwatchable," the resentment that the Spurs are reigning champs, and the racially tinged dismissals that linger following the Pistons brawl and last year's All-Star game. And it's unfortunate, because the NBA has likely not been this exciting since the mid 80s, and it likely has never been more seductively complicated.
All hail this motley crew.
Back Like Cooked Crack Award - Kobe Bryant, Los Angeles Lakers
Back on the court, workin', stackin' his bread.
I know, he isn't coming back. He wasn't away. He didn't go anywhere. That's all irrelevant.
Tiger Woods is likely better at and more dedicated to golf than you are good at and dedicated to any other one thing in life. That's how it is for all of us. But Kobe Bryant can't be far behind when it comes to basketball.
Above all else--even being a son, husband, and father--Kobe Bryant is a basketball player. That's not what he does; that's who he is. And when he has faced adversity before, he's further immersed himself in the game. Kobe is also among the most self-conscious players in the league. He worries about what you think of him, especially because his foibles can lead him to appear as a churlish, petulant baby at times. Having created melodrama and an early public-relations deficit surrounding his trade demand, he will again turn to basketball for refuge and redemption. He'll be aggressive, unrelenting, and better than ever as he plays so well that it spites the Lakers even while it helps them. I mean, the dude does hate to lose.
The league has been put on notice. Kobe is that Pandemic this season.
Forgot About Dre Award - Joe Johnson, Atlanta Hawks
Recognize game. For real.
Joe Johnson fucked up my fantasy team last year by only playing 57 games. And the injuries that kept him out fucked up his rep. Johnson is without a doubt the most underrated player in the NBA. It's always trendy, which is not to say unwarranted, to confer that sort of a title on a lesser-known or less experienced player, but Johnson is a forgotten man despite being one of the Association's twenty best. He has an excellent mid-range game, he can hit the three, he can pass and board. It doesn't help that he left media-darling Phoenix for the Groundhog Day of Despair that we've recently known as the Hawks. But no logic can fully account for how little people have discussed Johnson heading into this year. We are told about the Atlanta log jam at forward, the continued emergence of Dwight Howard's AAU buddy, and the need for the Hawks to find a true point guard. But why is no one exalting Johnson?
Carry That Weed Award - Courtney Sims, Indiana Pacers
The shortest seven-footer in the world.
You know, the guy who spent four years at Michigan dominating MAC teams and then playing like he was in the MAC when the Wolverine's played real teams? I can't imagine that there is a worse player in the NBA, so Courtney will need to tote really well if he wants to stay in the L. Like, if Travis Diener says, "Stash this bag," Courtney had better not even look at Travis.
Tony Yayo Award - Ruben Patterson, Los Angeles Clippers
Is there an NBA player more likely to hit a kid, Yayo style?
This award used to be handed out to the NBA player whose starting spot or mere presence in the L seemed least deserved, just as Tony Yayo's "career" seems like some kind of sick joke. He is very much like Paris Hilton, actually: neither has anything good to offer, and I don't understand why I even know whom they are to begin with.
But with the weed carrier award, a Memphis Bleek award, and a Lil' Wayne award, it seemed more apt to reappropriate the Yayo name to instead connote one who just isn't worth the trouble, much as it is literally worthless to listen to Yayo rhyme. No player seems to embody the spirit of this award better than Ruben Patterson, a dude whose enduring basketball legacy consists of awarding himself the misnomer of "Kobe Stopper" and whose personal legacy includes mandatory registration as a sex offender wherever he moves. I must concede that he did, in fact, set per-game career highs in point scored and rebounds collected last year. But honestly, is Tony Yayo anything more than a criminal who is lucky enough to know 50 Cent? And is Ruben Patterson anything more than a serial distraction who is lucky enough to be athletic?
Skyzoo "Stop Sleeping" Award - Ronnie Brewer, Utah Jazz
Don't say that you weren't told.
There is some enduring skepticism about the Jazz which I don't fully understand. They have an excellent low-post scorer; a huge front line; a great point guard; a fairly deep roster; and can play multiple styles. I think that perhaps people instinctively don't like things from Utah. In fact, I know this; I am one of them. Regardless, the Jazz will earn more respect, and Ronnie Brewer will command more dap. In his second year, I think dude will emerge as an athletic "energy guy": he'll finish on the break, he'll grab loose balls, he'll board well for a shooting guard, and he'll get easy looks thanks to Deron Williams.
Memphis Bleek "Just Happy to Be Here" Award - Rajon Rondo and Kendrick Perkins, Boston Celtics
You thought I'd give you a picture of Bleek when it's always about Jay?
Must this really be explained? Can you think of any other players as lucky to be where they are?
Rick Ross Award - Darius Miles, Portland Trail Blazers
He's even rockin' the Ricky Rowss beard!
No player is as worthless as Miles. He can't avoid trouble, he has a history of ugly behavior, and he's made no material basketball contribution since arriving in the NBA. It was cute last night when Cheryl Miller mentioned that Miles called her to say he'd be healthy in a month. Cute because he thinks anyone cares.
Lil' Wayne Award - Jared Jeffries, New York Knicks
Weezy F. Irrelevant.
Seriously, what is the appeal? His offense is anemic. His defense, a supposed strength, appears to be pedestrian. He's frail. What do people like about Jeffries? His length? That's just lazy.
Ghostface "Tony's Money" Award - Rudy Gay, Memphis Grizzlies
Creepin' on a come up like McNulty and Greggs.
Rudy will be among the league leaders in nasty finishes from the wing, most plays that closely approximate how a pterodactyl would ball, and nonchalance. He might be a less-athletic, better-playing version of Josh Smith. And, is there a more ideal match than Marc Iavaroni and Rudy Gay?
Asylum Records Award - Mike James, Houston Rockets
HoustonRocketsMixtapes.com--Lotta money over there, B!
The NBA equivalent of leaving bum-ass Koch, who ain't have they cake together, and signing with Asylum before putting out "Y'all Can't Live His Life"? Leaving hapless, rebuilding Minnesota for major minutes and a likely starting job alongside TMac and Yao.
Part Two tomorrow...
Labels: Courtney Sims, Darius Miles, Jared Jeffries, Joe Johnson, Kendrick Perkins, Kobe Bryant, Mike James, NBA, Rajon Rondo, Ronnie Brewer, Ruben Patterson, Rudy Gay
MTV
1 
1 
