The Last Thank-You

This post concludes our series on the role players who have received entirely too much loyalty from one team. Why is the market not churning more for these players? We previously reviewed some reasons here and here. The last reason I can offer is an explanation that is non-trivial, but not terribly interesting: Inertia. Sometimes economic actors is simply too lazy to do a deal to shake up their asset structure, because they are not in the mood for transaction costs, or perhaps they are not in “roster optimizing” mode. (Yes, crazy, I know.) Otherwise I can’t explain why some of these guys below stuck around for so long.

LUKE WALTON
This is now Walton’s sixth season playing small forward for the Lakers. Surprisingly, his role has shrunken with each passing year. As a rookie in 2004, he achieved notoriety when his teammate Kobe Bryant complimented him during the NBA Finals as a better passer than Shaquille O’Neal. When Malone, Payton, Fisher, O’Neal, and Fox departed after the 2004 Finals, Walton found himself the primary sixth man (and later a starter after Caron Butler was traded for Kwame Brown) on a team also featuring Smush Parker and Chris Mihm in starting roles.

Butler’s departure didn’t help Walton’s career much in the long run, though: since then, the Lakers have signed Vladimir Radmanovic as a free agent and traded for Trevor Ariza, who perform skills (shooting and defense, respectively) that Walton can’t. Today, Walton has only played in 21 of the team’s 29 games this season, averaging 11 minutes and earning $4.4 million for his efforts (with $22 million left on his contract over four more years).

MATT HARPRING
This is Harpring’s seventh year with the Jazz. Like his teammate Kirilenko, Harpring has spanned the transition from the Malone-Stockton era to the new era of Williams, Boozer, and lovable east Europeans. Coach Sloan clearly likes something about Harpring, just as Sloan showed nine years of loyalty to Greg Ostertag (then brought Ostertag back for a tenth season after his brief stint in Sacramento). Since undergoing knee surgery in 2007, Harpring has averaged only 16.6 minutes per game. Perhaps he serves a useful role for Sloan: someone needs to be the bench sparkplug who spells stars when they are slowed. According to lore, Harpring is tough like a linebacker when he is on the hardwood. But that’s a lot of loyalty for a guy with a highly limited role. He couldn’t even step in as a starter even when both Okur and Boozer were unavailable earlier this season.

Every encomium to Jerry Sloan’s 20 years as Utah coach has specified his “toughness” and his “hard-nosed” ethos. Other than being tough, another common denominator with many of his favorite players is that they are white. Utah has historically seen a higher than typical incidence of starring white players, including Ostertag, Jeff Hornacek, John Stockton, Kirilenko, and Mehmet Okur. This isn’t to say that those guys were/are untalented or undeserving of their roles, but there are a limited number of star-caliber white players, and the Jazz always seem to end up with a few of them. The Jazz’s biggest star, Karl Malone, liked to call himself a “black redneck”, whatever that is.

(But the Jazz are not the ‘whitest’ team in the league, at least right now. To wit, the Lakers currently field Gasol, Radmanovic, Farmar, Vujacic, Walton, Mihm, and, until recently, Coby Karl.)



COREY MAGGETTE
Maggette is a quasi-all star: He routinely puts up 20 points per game, but he is not known for his defense, and it is hard to imagine him ever making an all-star team, particularly now that he is on a team full of shooters with Crawford and Ellis. Amazingly, the Clippers held on to him for 8 years until letting his contract expire after the ’07-’08 season. I call this amazing because he doesn’t seem to show much demonstrable contribution to team wins; the Clippers’ lone good season in his span there, 2006, happened because they acquired Sam Cassell in his contract year and Elton Brand slimmed down. Besides that, the Clips’ record has been desultory, and the waxing and waning of Maggette’s “performance”, as it may be, had no apparent correlation with team success. Already, his new team, Golden State, is talking about trading him after only 28 games.

MICHAEL PIETRUS
Pietrus spent six inconspicuous and undistinguished seasons with Golden State, during which the team sucked almost the whole time. Pietrus was lucky to participate in a minor renaissance in the spring of ’07, when the team defeated Dallas in the first round of the playoffs and came reasonably close to a conference finals trip. Like other guys on this list (but unlike the humbler players discussed in our earlier “Thanksgiving” posts), Pietrus was frequently quoted in his local paper whining about not receiving a bigger role on the team. Nellie used him mostly to play stout defense and shoot corner 3s, but perhaps Pietrus wished to take a more featured role in his time on the court, like his friend Boris Diaw. In any case, his contract expired in the summer of ’08 and the Dubs said no thanks. Pietrus signed on with Orlando, where so far he has been part of a frequently revolving rotation of starting 2-guards with Keith Bogans and J.J. Redick.

AUSTIN CROSHERE
Croshere had a few brief moments of sunlight in the 2000 NBA Finals, when he hit some big shots against the Lakers. Like Tyronn Lue in the ’01 Finals and Speedy Claxton in ’03, moderate success on the biggest stage can lead to outsized paydays due to faulty perception by those who hold the purse strings. Croshere stuck with Indiana from his draft selection day in 1997 all the way until 2006, long past the date when it became clear that Croshere would not develop into a championship-quality star. Like Jeff Foster, Croshere had the odd experience of joining Indy at the height of the Reggie-Smits-McKey-Davis Brothers days, then seeing that team dismantled and a new title-contending squad of Artest and O’Neal built on its ashes, then sticking around for yet more rebuilding. Today, Croshere plays for the Bucks, where he has averaged 7 minutes in 11 games this season.

DESMOND MASON
Mason doesn’t quite qualify for my list, but I regard him as a puzzling case anyway. Drafted in 1999, he spent three years with the Seattle Sonics, then three with Milwaukee, then two with the Oklahoma City Hornets (being an OK guy), then one with Milwaukee, and now he’s back in Oklahoma City … with the Thunder (née Sonics) this time. So that makes three franchises and three cities that have shown remarkable affinity to him (and he to them). Maybe those cities are hungry for abstract expressionism?


As a further note, I am curious to ask: Which superstar-caliber players stayed on one team for the duration of their careers? Off the top of my head, here are some: Isiah, Magic, Stockton, Robinson, Bird, McHale, Reggie Miller, Willis Reed, Elgin Baylor. Among today’s stars, Kobe Bryant, Tim Duncan, and Paul Pierce are in their thirteenth, twelfth, and eleventh years with their present teams, and a migration elsewhere seems unlikely.

But Hakeem didn’t do it; at the end of his career, he had the ignominy of joining the Raptors in their darkest days. Nor Barkley, nor Iverson, nor Wilkins, nor Kidd, nor Drexler, nor Ewing, nor Garnett, nor Pippen, nor Shaq. Many of these guys joined title contenders late in their careers after hopes had run dry on their first clubs. And it worked for many of them: Drexler, Garnett, and Shaq won titles late in life, while Barkley and Pippen got to at least the conference finals. Jordan and Malone had things under control, until greed marred their pure résumés and led them to join new teams while well past their prime. Nash’s greatness didn’t emerge until after he had switched teams twice. LeBron, Amar'e and Bosh will probably leave their original clubs soon. Looking at an older era: Kareem, Oscar, Wilt, and Dr. J all switched teams.

I mention all this in the context of the role players to discussion to highlight that long tenure with one team really is rare, even for the greats. Jeff Foster is possibly the luckiest man in this league.
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And with that, we say to these well-pampered role players: Begone with ye! Take your overstuffed contracts and inflated egos to Russia, or Greece, or maybe to the Timberwolves, where at least you’ll have company in mediocrity. Stop holding back potentially good teams from realizing their awesome power!

Too Sexy For My Shorts

In one sense, this story last week about Julius Erving’s hitherto unwanted daughter was not surprising. As a semi-savvy fan I know that lots of NBA guys sleep around and leave pregnancies behind. What’s amazing, though, is that Erving has received almost zero negative publicity for this. Until this gushing article, I was not aware of this scenario, and I read a lot about basketball. It certainly hasn’t harmed his post-playing career as an “ambassador” of the league. I recall about five seasons ago, he appeared as an aged guru in a series of humorous NBA-produced ads involving various players expressing their burning love for the Larry O’Brien trophy. And every February he seems to show up as a slam dunk contest judge. I guess the salt-and-pepper hair allows him to appear as a hunky, virile sage (it works for George Clooney) but what about his low-quality behavior in his personal life?

Why does the media give players a pass on their sexual escapades when other figures like actors and politicians are required to trod the cleanest path? A variety of political figures (Clinton, Spitzer, John Edwards, Jim McGreevey, Gary Hart) have been brought low by infidelity and other sex scandals. (As a side note, how come only Democrats are seriously tarnished by this? Newt Gingrich has a sorry record with his women, but he’s still seen as a possible president. Giuliani, too. And McCain. David Vitter hired a prostitute, but he’s still in the Senate, while Eliot Spitzer was forced to resign for the same transgression.

Yet when Magic Johnson sleeps around with dozens or hundreds of women, no problem. He’s just a victim! Wilt had 10,000 partners? Hurrah for him, a true baller! Karl Malone and Larry Bird have children they won’t acknowledge? That’s okay, they’re still Hall of Fame candidates. And a case cannot be made that off-court behavior has no bearing on Hall of Fame candidacy. Why, then, is Dennis Rodman (five rings, two DPOY awards, seven rebounding titles) not in the Hall? Oh no, he colored his hair yellow and pierced his nose. We can’t have that!

Perhaps the implicit attitude is that boys will be boys. These situations have received occasional discussion in popular media, but few fans now associate Hakeem Olajuwon with "prolific daddy". It is more interesting that the really big stars largely are not tarnished by their wanderings, while lesser or less savvy lights like Shawn Kemp are pilloried. Did you know Dwight Howard sired a son last year with a woman whom he's now not seeing?

Where Have You Gone, Joe DiMaggio?

This post is about Isiah Thomas: once an icon, now fallen. It is also about me and my evolution as a basketball fan. It is equally about the utility of technology in facilitating nostalgia. Finally, it is about the centrality of heroes to the resilience of communities.

1989 was a grand time to be a young boy in suburban Detroit. Driven by bustling sales of the four-year-old Ford Taurus and the six-year-old Dodge Caravan, the automakers boomed, the local economy bustled, and all my friends’ parents had cool cars; with a looming recession in Japan, talk of a new era of foreign automotive dominance seemed silly. Mayor Coleman Young was re-elected in Detroit; the papers bragged of a renewed attention to city-suburban relations. The weather was gorgeous that year and the Tigers (though, admittedly, they played like crap) still fielded several of the stars from their 1984 championship team: Jack Morris, Willie Hernandez, Alan Trammell, Lou Whitaker, Chet Lemon.

In pop culture, “The Little Mermaid” was a hit and our third-grade choir teacher had us singing “Under the Sea” all the time. Steve Urkel made his first appearance on network television. Hulk Hogan fought Randy Savage at WrestleMania V (“The Megapowers Explode”) in Atlantic City, and with an atomic legdrop, the Hulk was back on top of the wrestling world after a year-long interregnum (caused primarily by his time away to film the odious “No Holds Barred” in ’88). The carefully plotted Hogan-Savage divorce storyline was far better than anything the NBA ever came up with in relation to Kobe and Shaq. Sure, Kobe’s telling the Colorado police about Shaq’s dealings with his mistresses was just as juicy as Hogan stealing away Miss Elizabeth. However, after 2004, Kobe was never on a contending team at the same time Shaq was, and vice-versa; their manufactured Christmas day battles held little meaning and never felt like a “main event”. Sometimes fake sports are more interesting.

Something was in the water that turned ordinary basketball players into gladiators that spring. The head men’s basketball coach at the University of Michigan resigned just prior to the NCAA tournament to take a job elsewhere, and a rookie coach with no expectations was appointed to guide them. Shockingly, Michigan ended up winning the national championship, beating a field that included Duke with Laettner and Ferry, Georgetown with Mourning, UNLV with Larry Johnson, Syracuse with Derrick Coleman, Illinois with Nick Anderson and Kendall Gill, Arizona with Sean Elliott.

The Wolverines were only a third seed, but in retrospect, Michigan had a hell of a team with six future NBAers (Terry Mills, Loy Vaught, Sean Higgins, Mark Hughes, Glen Rice and Rumeal Robinson); their championship opponent Seton Hall (Seton Hall?) had just Andrew Gaze. Perhaps Coach Fisher got lucky to step into such an embarrassing wealth of talent (and, on the strength of this success, he lucked out again two years later when he convinced the Fab Five to sign up). Hello, Malcolm Gladwell.

But most dazzlingly for young 9-year-old boys like me in Detroit (and certainly plenty of young girls as well), the Detroit Pistons reached the Eastern Conference Finals for the third consecutive year, and, by knocking both Michael Jordan and Magic Johnson out of the playoffs, delivered the city's first NBA title. The team was led by star point guard Isiah Thomas, who had patiently been steering the team towards greatness for eight years. As I outlined in an earlier post in my Vinnie Johnson spotlight, building the Pistons entailed a slow and careful workstream. It was certainly worth it when the clock ticked down on Detroit's sweep of the Lakers and the town Of Three rejoiced. Looking back, that may have been the city’s apogee.

Like many kids in town, I looked up to Isiah Thomas as a hero. I never met him, but I felt that I knew him: his face was everywhere across the city. People even said repeatedly that my mom resembled his wife. Here are two photos taken in the current decade, about 15 years after the Bad Boys reigned. What do you think?

When our local electric utility decided to put its name on some television public service announcements, there was no other man or woman in town whose words were combed and whose oracular view was revered more than Isiah. The choice of the Piston’s leader to front the Say No To Drugs campaign was indisputable. Not even Rosa Parks, who made her home in Detroit after she achieved fame in Alabama, had his spiritual oomph.

(Note, all the YouTube videos in this post originate in the personal VHS collection of Jordan Pushed Off. We recently uploaded all of these online. To our knowledge, these December 2008 uploads are the first time that any of these videos have seen light on the internet. We hope we are not violating any copyright.)

Amazingly, you would think that Isiah would plug the local auto industry as a champion of the Detroit machine, no? Yet Isiah actually decided to shill for Toyota. This ad is cute, but only Isiah and his baby-faced smile could get away with endorsing the competition:



In 1990, basking in his second consecutive title (a feat that Steve Yzerman’s Red Wings never could muster once, at least not until they loaded the team up with Russians), Isiah was invited to produce a Christmas special for one of the local TV stations. He and his writing team came up with "Never Lose Your Hope", a kind of "A Christmas Carol" for urban youth. Re-watching it now, it really was cute, and Isiah’s charm is undeniable.

Putting myself in the position of my 10-year-old self 18 Decembers ago, it is not hard to imagine that the image of Isiah-as-guardian-angel could seem quite non-preposterous. He certainly saved the city from its decade-long funk as the Japanese seemed to ascend to greater industrial heights.



I like the conceit, shown below, that under Isiah’s patronage, the young boy can fly several feet in the air. (though the suspension of disbelief is ruined by the camera’s failure to hide the adult holding up the kid!) I think something similar was advanced in the 2002 film "Like Mike", only with a more palatable angel.

Finally, it is hard not to feel kind of toasty at the sight of Isiah and his crew singing along to an originally jazzy Christmas song cooked up by the Winans:

I also remember to this day that the local classic rock radio station (WCSX 94.7 FM) played a jingle to the tune of Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Down On The Corner”:

Early in the morning
Just about playoff time
Isiah and the Pistons
Are starting to unwind

Chorus:
Down at the Palace
Dancin’ in the seats
Isiah and the Bad Boys are playin’
And the Pistons can’t be beat!

Of course, unless you’re the Spurs, who have enjoyed twenty years of excellence, every great team eventually hits the top of its arc and returns to mediocrity. The beginning of the end for Detroit came when the Bulls, newly fierce with Phil Jackson's triangle offense fully roaring, swept the Pistons in the 1991 Eastern Conference Finals. For reasons I never quite understood, Isiah led the team's stars to walk off the court and into the locker room with 10 seconds left in the final game, not bothering to shake the hands of Jordan and Pippen. Surprisingly, the local papers had Isiah's back the next day, for what was, I'm sorry, a total dick move. I was only in fifth grade so I did little more than appreciate their hagiography. I made a habit of reading the Detroit News religiously (my dad found the Free Press too liberal, so our subscription was to the News). Here is what writer Drew Sharp of the Freep had to say on May 28, 1991, the day after the Bulls' triumph. If the liberal Free Press supported Isiah, imagine what the jingoistic News would say. Recall that the Detroit News employed the late White House press secretary and Fox News personality Tony Snow for many years as editorial page editor. (I couldn't find the Bulls-Pistons story in their archives.)

As the Bulls joyously cherished their new seat on the throne, the Pistons refused to acquiesce. Why should they show respect to a team that showed them none in the last week?
When in the closing minutes the Palace crowd erupted with a chant of "Go LA! Go LA!" -- the Bulls' likely opponent in the NBA Finals -- Isiah Thomas thrust his fists in the air to share the sentiment.
The Pistons didn't stick around to watch the Bulls' on- court celebration. The entire bench filed to the dressing room with 7.9 seconds left on the clock. John Salley was the only Piston to congratulate the Bulls following the game. The rest of the Pistons wanted no part of the gaiety.

And with that, the Pistons as we knew them were done. (Frightfully, the next few years included Olden Polynice and Orlando Woolridge as alleged low-post threats.) Isiah retired in ’94, after an odd final season including a brawl between him and Laimbeer that broke Thomas's hand, and rumors of Isiah signing a "Piston for life" post-playing contract that never quite came to fruition. Soon after, Isiah signed on to run the not-yet-existent Toronto Raptors, and he was gone.

I will not recapitulate Isiah's sorry post-playing career and all the scandals he created; that job has been done elsewhere. It is sad, though, that a man who once ruled the city has brought himself so low. What happened to that cute man who gave Lester a magical sweater and restored his hope? He was real to me. Detroit, too, was once a town full of promise. Sure, we had crime and fear, but the ’90s were a new age, and we all thought the tag team of Governor Engler and Mayor Archer could bring Detroit back. But then the Germans bought Chrysler and treated the company as an ugly stepchild before flipping it to a private equity fund. Today, thanks to President Bush and Hank Paulson, GM and Chrysler will live a few more months, but they may not last much longer. The public schools have lost tens of thousands of students in recent years. Derrick Coleman and Chris Webber are continuing to try making a difference in Detroit, but where is Isiah? Allegedly he has a foundation that promotes literacy, but according to this site, the foundation had zero assets as of December 2006. It is sad that a man whom I thought legendary turned out to be just a dumb jock. But thanks to those charming videos, I can always return to a moment when I was yet innocent and our city still had a champion, in every sense of the word.

I want to say one more thing about Isiah’s management strategy as head of the Knicks. In a way, during his 4.5-year tenure as Knicks president and coach, Thomas ran a Ponzi scheme not dissimilar to the Bernie Madoff scenario. Madoff, it is alleged, paid returns to yesterday’s investors using new principal invested by today’s investors, rather than earning an honest return in the market. From the outside, investors were happy with their results, and the scheme works as long as new money keeps flowing in. However, the crisis of 2008 resulted in a lot of big-money investors freaking out on general principles and trying to pull out their money, presumably to put it in safer vehicles. This capital outflow resulted in the collapse of Madoff’s scheme, because, of course, the old money was gone. (As a side note, doesn’t this quite resemble the U.S. Social Security system?)

Thomas’s approach to roster management and fan satisfaction was not unlike Madoff’s investment “strategy”. Let’s acquire Stephon Marbury. Wait, he’s a non-performing asset? A prudent investor would get out of that vehicle, but Isiah says, we’ve gotta make this work! Our stakeholders who have put financial or emotional investment into this asset -- i.e., James Dolan and our fans and sponsors -- want some return on Starbury. Let’s use the promise of Marbury’s potential to sell our fans on Tim Thomas as a star. We just acquired Nazr Mohammed as our new center? Hmmm, forget about him, now we need Vin Baker. Our first three glamour guards (Allan Houston, Penny Hardaway, Marbury) aren’t making an impact? That’s okay, let’s acquire Jamal Crawford. Baker is a drunk? Well, instead of letting his contract expire and getting cap relief, let’s trade him for Maurice Taylor, who sucks. Mohammed is not a superstar? That’s okay – instead of letting his contract expire in ’06, let’s trade him for Malik Rose, who has a contract that lasts until ’09 … and who sucks. Tim Thomas (lazy) and Michael Sweetney don’t seem to be working out? Let’s trade them for Eddy Curry, who’s even lazier and fatter! Antonio Davis isn't packing much punch in the middle? Fine, instead of letting that contract run its course, let's acquire Jalen Rose, who's owed much more. Penny Hardaway is washed up? Let's dump him (and one of our lone performing assets, Trevor Ariza) for Steve Francis, who at least used to be a regular All-Star Game starter. Wait, Francis can’t play anymore? Let’s trade Francis (and another good asset, Channing Frye) for Zach Randolph.

Interestingly, the "returns" Thomas delivered to his stakeholders year after year were not wins on the hardwood, but rather the shiny potential of future wins from a roster that might finally aggrandize with the very next tweak. He kept feeding possibility to Dolan and the fans, and they kept coming back for more, as evidenced by Thomas's tenure, Dolan's willingness to pay the big salaries, and the uninterrupted corporate sponsorships and sellout crowds at MSG. When you're in a city founded on aspiration, perhaps possibility is enough. I know that sure wouldn't work in Detroit.

That is all I can say about Mr. Thomas. Maybe I don’t know him well enough; maybe I have been too fanciful in trying to interpret him as a "text" rather than just taking him as the incarnate man he is. I've always felt a little connected to Isiah, and I have to say that he's let me down.

Here is what the Associated Press had to say about Detroit yesterday:

Detroit's downtown abounds with symbols of past dreams — the still-gleaming round towers of the Renaissance Center of the '70s, Super Bowl XL venue Ford Field, the three hotel-casino resorts with their gaudy exterior lights and cavernous gaming rooms.

Yet less than two miles from downtown stands the decaying, 18-story Michigan Central railroad station, built in 1913 and unoccupied for 20 years while developers shied way from the cost of restoring its Beaux-Arts grandeur. Along Grand River Avenue, a six-lane thoroughfare leading from downtown to the northwest, liquor stores and check-cashing outlets alternate with scores of abandoned commercial buildings, some boarded up, others just gutted shells.

To the west, in the modest residential neighborhood of Brightmoor, there were five burnt-out houses on a single short block. The facade of one was daubed in red and blue graffiti — some obscene, some gang-related; the charred rubble inside included a battered toy truck.

The scene brought to mind the city's motto, crafted by a Roman Catholic priest after a devastating fire in 1805: "We hope for better things; it will arise from the ashes".

Thank You Very Much, Part II

A few days ago we gave you our better-late-than-never Thanksgiving post, illustrating role players who have received undue fealty from their teams.

In the last post, we outlined some reasons that might explain why some jobronis see supranormal tenures with their teams: (1) Teams are eager to avoid switching costs relating to retraining new reserves; (2) The players receive irrationally rich contracts that render them nearly untradeable; (3) Players like the stability of remaining in one city.

After some further thought and reading, let me now introduce two further reasons why role players may enjoy such long tenure. (4) The players are good enough to be stars, but more mature or skilled players are starting ahead of them, and the team doesn't want to lose the asset to a competitor. This may be why Portland kept a young Jermaine O'Neal for 4 years to ride the pine behind Rasheed Wallace, and why, today, Utah keeps Paul Millsap around despite having two other all-star power forwards, or Orlando JJ Redick. And (5), the team may have non-basketball reasons for keeping a player around. In some less urban communities like Utah or Indiana, some fans may be wary of players (OK, I'll say it: usually black) who appear "thug-like" with cornrows and tattoos and so forth, and clean-cut guys like Rasho Nesterovic (or heck, Al Thornton, who doesn't have any tattoos either) have marketing potential that outweighs their basketball abilities.

Anyway, let us now go forward with our spotlight of thankful scrubs. Again, our focus is on role players (non-all-stars) who have played for the same team for at least six consecutive seasons.

VINNIE JOHNSON
This guy goes all the way back to my childhood. The Pistons did not emerge as a contender fully formed; it took years of careful building to create the eventual two-time champs. Vinnie came aboard in a trade from Seattle in the fall of ’81 after being picked early in the ’79 draft. The core of Isiah, Laimbeer, Vinnie, and Kelly Tripucka added coach Chuck Daly in ’83, then Joe Dumars in the 1985 draft, then substituted Adrian Dantley for Tripucka in 1986 (then Aguirre for Dantley in ’89). In the ’86 draft Detroit picked up two Renaldo Balkman-type hustling rookies in Rodman and Salley. Meanwhile, the Bad Boys needed bruisers to truly be bad. Rick Mahorn signed on in ’85, and James “Buddha” Edwards joined up in the summer of ’87.

For almost ten years, until the Bulls knocked off the Pistons in the spring of ’91, Vinnie was the first guy off the bench. Some Pistons pundit (I don’t know which; perhaps George Blaha) dubbed him the Microwave, because he heats up in a hurry. What a brilliant nickname! Surprisingly, he never won the Sixth Man of the Year award, though it began in 1983.

PAT GARRITY
This guy convinced Orlando to employ him for nine years in a row from 1999 until 2008, when he finally retired. When you hit the prime of your career and your scoring average drops from 4.6 and 4.9 to 2.2, that’s probably a good idea. What does he do that is useful? The stats don’t reveal anything obvious. For a few seasons he was stroking the 3-ball at better than 40%, but in the last four seasons he couldn’t do that anymore. Maybe he hustles better than most. Perhaps in a world of imperfect information, a team is better off sticking with the bum they know, rather than the bum they don’t know. If they are comfortable with the role Garrity plays, and decently sure enough that they cannot find a better and equally well-behaved replacement, why go through the fuss of finding someone new?

DEVEAN GEORGE
This guy was lucky to be the best available talent on the board when the Lakers (they of Bryant, O’Neal, and Glen Rice) made their first-round choice in the 1999 NBA draft. This guy logged a total of 3 minutes in the NBA Finals at the end of his first season in June of 2000; yet somehow he acquired a reputation as a defensive stopper who propelled the team to their three-peat. George logged seven seasons all told with the Lakers; it probably helped that after most of their stars left in the summer of ’04 (see above), he was a genuine keeper compared to the other alternatives. Today he is a backup for Dallas, but low on the depth chart behind Josh Howard and Gerald Green. With Howard out nursing a bad ankle, George has played about 20 mpg in the last two weeks and is shooting 3-pointers at nearly a 50% clip, making two such buckets per game. Not bad.

JEFF FOSTER
Foster is now in his tenth season of employment by the Pacers, believe it or not. He has seen four coaches (Bird, Thomas, Carlisle , O’Brien). He has served as the backup center for Rik Smits, Jermaine O’Neal, and now Rasho Nesterovic. He has played in the NBA Finals with the Rik Smits-Dale Davis-Reggie Miller-Jalen Rose-Mark Jackson squad, then the Eastern Conference finals with the Artest-O’Neal-Tinsley-Miller team, and last season held down the fort for a hopeless lottery dweller. This season he seems to be part of the rebirth of the team. Perhaps he will be around for the next down cycle, also. He’s like George W. Bush in a way, who had the bad luck to preside over two recessions. Better to be like Bill Clinton, who like Vinnie Johnson on the Pistons, never tasted hard times as US president.

JASON COLLINS
Jason lucked out in the draft: while his brother was taken by a Jazz team suffering steep decline as Malone and Stockton aged, Jason went to the New Jersey Nets just as Jason Kidd and Richard Jefferson came aboard. Similar to Devean George, Jason Collins thus was able to contribute to an NBA Finalist in each of his first two seasons out of college, and has perhaps been coasting on that reputation since then.

While he’s a good defender, he’s terrible on offense, and not much of a rebounder. Incredibly, Jason Collins stuck with the team for almost seven seasons until New Jersey , desperate to find a paradigm-busting frontcourt scorer who could salvage the Kidd era, traded Collins to Memphis for Stromile Swift last February. (That didn’t work too well, as the Nets traded away Kidd to Dallas just nine days later, in a brilliant move by Rod Thorn.)

JARRON COLLINS
Jarron Collins is even luckier than his brother, as Jarron is now in his eighth consecutive season of employment by Utah, the only team whose jersey he has ever donned. He’s started very, very few games over that span; Utah’s starting center used to be Greg Ostertag, and lately has been Mehmet Okur. Like his brother, he’s a smart guy, but not the most athletic jumping bean in the can. Like Foster, Collins saw the dying days of the Malone-Stockton era, and has since stuck around for the rise of the Williams-Boozer-Kirilenko squad that has won three playoff series in the last two years. I still don’t understand why Utah employs him. With rookies Kosta Koufos (who put up 10 points and 3 rebounds in 6 minutes on Friday night) and Kyrylo Fesenko backing up Okur, who needs this big lug?

MALIK ROSE
Malik Rose joined San Antonio as a rookie in 1997, the same year Tim Duncan joined the team. A 6’7” power forward, it is not clear exactly what he brings to the table as an undersized “big”. He doesn’t have a lot of bulk like Charles Barkley or Paul Millsap, and he doesn’t have amazing leaping ability like Dennis Rodman. It is said that he is a good locker room presence, but hell, I could be a good locker room presence. I don’t drink or smoke, I’m polite to my boss, and I like to host my co-workers for parties at my place.

Rose managed to stay with the Spurs (and grab two rings) for almost eight seasons until February 2005, when he was traded to the Knicks for Nazr Mohammed, who eventually helped the Spurs win a championship. Meanwhile, today Rose is still stuck on the hapless Knicks, who haven’t been able to trade Rose due to his absurdly large contract (seven years, $42 million, signed back in the heady summer of ’02, when George W Bush could do no wrong and the whole country seemed Hot in Herre) for a player of his lackluster abilities. Right now they are just happy to see his contract expire in a few months.
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In our next and probably final installment of this series, we will consider role players who stayed way too long, including Austin Croshere and Corey Maggette.

It's The End Of The World As We Know It

Watching TNT’s NBA coverage last Thursday (December 4th) I was mildly amused when Kenny Smith made a comment about the quality of Terrell Owens's physique, and his interlocutors (Barkley, Webber, Ernie Johnson) thought that was fun-fun-funny. They continued ribbing Smith all night, and the producers made a series of cartoonish Photoshopped images mocking Kenny's adoration of Owens's abs. (Kenny's comment comes at 0:45 of this video, and the goofy cartoon comes at about 3:05) The mockery continued all night into the postgame show, past the events shown in this video.



[UPDATE: After I put this post up, the Youtube video (not my video) was taken down due to terms of use violations. You can find the "official" TNT video of the postgame show by clicking here, and then paste the following into your address bar:

javascript:changePlaylist('/video/channels/tnt_overtime/2008/12/05/nba_20081204_insideNBA.nba.json');

The beginning minute of the postgame video makes some reference to the Kenny-T.O. stuff. However, the video of the halftime show where all these hijinks started is not available. Perhaps TNT realized that this was not professional television, and they want to expunge it from the record. Anyway, now back to the original blog post.]

All right, that was mildly amusing. Here's what Kenny said: "T.O. doesn't have to wear anything to make his body look like he's in shape." The context was that Barkley just said that T.O. and Tiger Woods like to wear tight shirts to show off their muscles.

Well, that's probably true. Owens is a fit guy. All wide receivers are: they have to be fast, agile, and strong. Is this any different from scouts saying that a prospect is "freakishly long" or, when LeBron finished high school in 2003, that he had an "NBA body"? Why is this worthy of juvenile ragging? If Kenny had said that, say, Marko Jaric has a fine-looking woman, there would have been a general chuckle, and then we would have moved onto to something else, right?

It's no mystery that men’s sports have a homophobic, but simultaneously homoerotic, undercurrent. (I should know, I was on my high school wrestling team for one year!) What’s with all the butt-patting? That link suggests that football coaches pat their players on the rear end because the rest of the body is covered in pads and they can't feel it, but gee, I’ve seen plenty of butt-patting in baseball and basketball, also.

And it’s no stretch to make the connection between the macho, martial mores of the playing arena to bullying behavior off the court. There are plenty of examples of NBA players abusing their wives and girlfriends. (I don’t know whether this rate of abuse in the NBA world is higher than the basal population rate, but that seems like a lot of dudes.) There was a whole book about this phenomenon, which, lazily, I have not read.

Former NBA center John Amaechi, who came out as gay in 2007, writes that when his teammates contemplated the thought of knowing a gay person, they came up with: "If my kid grew up gay, I'd throw him into the street." Of course Amaechi surely spiced up his quotes a bit to sell his book, but I have little doubt that this is redolent of the general tenor of locker-room life.

I don't know what else to say, except that I’m a bit disappointed that Ernie Johnson, a non-jock, would encourage and even further the homophobic joshing. I guess when you "embed" a journalist with the troops, he tends to internalize the values of the unit.

Hey Mambo

Continuing our exploration of badly pronounced basketball names, I humbly offer up Dick Versace and Dick Vitale, former coaches with the Detroit Pistons. (Versace was only an assistant there, and later became a head coach with the Pacers.) Is there any good reason why the first guy's name (rhymes with “her face”) shouldn't be pronounced like that of the fashion designer? He even proudly says here that he's an Italian American. And why shouldn't Mr. Diaper Dandy have his name pronounced like, say, another redoubtable Vitale of the Michigan area?

Just saying.

Da New School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Derrick Rose sure is great. I mean that with all sincerity. He shows signs of becoming a HOF, MVP type of superstar. Very few point guards in the last twenty years can say that. How many point guards were MVP contenders? There was Chris Paul, Jason Kidd, Steve Nash, John Stockton, Kevin Johnson, Gary Payton, Tim Hardaway. I don't think Anfernee Hardaway ever rose to MVP level, playing alongside Shaq. Deron Williams is good, but he hasn't been transcendent yet.

And notably, none of the PGs above won a championship. Not one! OK, Payton won a title in 2006 as an ornery backup on Miami, but his luminescent days were long past. The last superstar point guard to lead his team to a title was Isiah Thomas back in 1989 and ’90. Looking at the last 18 championships, the lesson seems to be: If you don't have Shaq, Hakeem, Jordan, Duncan, or Garnett (i.e. a top 15 all-time player), you're out of luck. The Pistons of ’04 were the exception that proved this rule: they were able to prevail only after Duncan, Shaq and Garnett destroyed each other in the West playoffs.

Look at the point guards of all those champions: Rajon Rondo, Tony Parker (well, he was good in 2007, but mediocre in ’05, and so bad in ’03 that Speedy Claxton spelled him), Jason Williams, Chauncey Billups, Derek Fisher, Ron Harper, Avery Johnson, Ron Harper again, Kenny Smith, John Paxson. A serviceable point guard, plus an all-timer and an all-star, is all you need to bring home a title.

(Incidentally, applying that formula, which teams are legitimate championship candidates this year? Boston, Cleveland, Detroit, Los Angeles, New Orleans, San Antonio could all qualify. I hesitate to put Orlando in there, because I don't think Dwight Howard has yet proven that he can hang with the Russells and Chamberlains. I don't think Houston has an all-time legend on its roster, and neither does Denver or Utah. Phoenix and Dallas have O’Neal and Kidd, but they are past their expiration date.)

So Rose is exciting, and his rookie performance thus far is spectacular, but I don't know yet if he can restore glory to the Bulls. As I observed previously, he may be the lure to bring in a marquee free agent in 2010, such as Stoudemire, Bosh, James, or Wade. That would certainly put the Bulls in the mix for the gold.

Shukran ya Ustaadh

Our Thanksgiving post has come a little late, but it took us a while to come up with the piquant content that we pride ourselves by. Our theme today is the giving of thanks, in honor of last week’s holiday here in the States.

We at Jordan Pushed Off would love to have a budget to hire research assistants to crunch some numbers for us. Unfortunately, money’s tight in these credit-crunched days, and we spend all of our spare cash on ESPN Insider and NBA Finals tickets. So, our capacity to run data analysis is not as broad as we might like. Let us still proceed with some speculation.

What do you think is the average tenure with a single team for role players — that is, players who have never made, and likely will never make, an NBA all-star team during their career? (I realize that this definition may capture several players who are certainly better than “role player”, like Tayshaun Prince, Richard Jefferson, Marcus Camby, and others, but I can’t think of a better line of demarcation.) I would guess that the average such tenure is three or four years. Every summer there is an active free agency market for role players, good general managers are not afraid to jettison unproductive bench players and try again the following fall with someone new. Joe Dumars tried Carlos Delfino, but he sucked. Then he tried Jarvis Hayes to play backup 3, but he sucked too. This year he’s going with Walter Herrmann. If Herrmann sucks, I am sure Joe will find a way to dump him in 2009.

Yet there are some role players who have somehow managed how to stick with their team, year after year, often drawing paychecks far out of proportion to their ability. (In fact, the causal relationship may go from bad contracts to lack of tradeability to unreasonably long tenure on a team). Longevity is nice: it means one home, stability for your kids, a secure relationship with management, the ability to pick out enjoyable community programs, perhaps favored groupies if that’s your thing, and fans who keep bringing the love year after year. It is these players of unusually long longevity with one team whom, we feel, have the greatest responsibility to give thanks for their lot in life. We will focus on role players who have played for the same team for at least six consecutive seasons.

NICK COLLISON
Collison spent his rookie season in 2003-04 recovering from shoulder injuries, so this is really only his fifth active season. Still, Seattle/Oklahoma has continued to place faith in Collison as a starting power forward, when he has delivered only 10 points and 9 rebounds (in 28 minutes) in his best season. He can’t even block more than one shot per game. Those are “energy guy” numbers, folks. I suppose when your starting shooting guard registers at 6’9” and 215 pounds, you don’t have a lot of quality control. Sadly for the Thunder, they have Collison booked for two more seasons after this one, at over $6 million per.

SAMUEL DALEMBERT
The big Quebecois-née-Haitienne was drafted by the Sixers in 2001, just after Philly made the Finals with a center squad of Dikembe Mutombo, Matt Geiger, and Todd MacCulloch. Mutombo was looking wizened at the time (though incredibly, he played 7 more seasons, until 2008), Geiger was at the end of his career, and MacCulloch only played two more seasons due to a genetic foot disorder. So a fresh and spry center to play with Iverson seemed like a good idea.

It is said that big men take the longest to mature. Dalembert finally became a serviceable starter in his sixth and seventh seasons, averaging over 30 minutes, 10 points, and 10 rebounds. So far in this season, his eighth with the Sixers, he has regressed, though, averaging only 27 minutes and 6.5 points. Philly doesn’t really have another decent center on its roster (its fifteenth man, 35-year-old Theo Ratliff, has played only 5 times for a grand total of 35 minutes) so it is puzzling why Dalembert can’t get more floor time.

DAN GADZURIC
The giant from Holland (and then UCLA) was drafted by Milwaukee in 2002; this is his seventh season with the team. His high point came in 2004-05, when he started 81 games and averaged about 7 points and 8 rebounds. The following summer, with Gadzuric eligible to sign an extension at the end of his rookie contract, the Bucks locked him up through the 2010-11 season. That’s right; unless Milwaukee can find a taker via trade, they are looking at nine seasons of the Gadzuric Era. After that transaction, Milwaukee brought in Andrew Bogut, the top pick in the draft, to play the 4, and brought in Jamaal Magloire to be their starting center. The following year, Bogut was promoted to starting center, and Charlie Villanueva or Brian Skinner got the nod at power forward. If you can’t beat out Magloire or Skinner for a starting spot on a non-playoff team, what are you doing? Gadzuric’s points per game hovered around 5 for the first two Bogut years, and have dropped to 3 in the subsequent two seasons. Yet Milwaukee is still happy to employ him.

My experience with Dutch men has been that they are uniformly very tall. Like, huge. And indeeed, the few Dutch players to make the NBA have all been centers: Rik Smits, Francisco Elson, and Dan Gadzuric. Incidentally, both Gadzuric and Elson now play for the Bucks.

BRENDAN HAYWOOD AND ETAN THOMAS
These two were both drafted in 2001 (Michael Jordan acquired both) and have platooned at center for the Wizards ever since. Amazingly, this is the eighth year that the Wizards have employed Haywood and Thomas together, even though (i) they are mediocre pivotmen on a team that needs a powerful low-post scorer to succeed, and (ii) they hate each other. In recent years they have fought at least three times. In their reluctant-tag-team roles, they remind me of Colin Powell and Don Rumsfeld, or maybe Cousin Balki and Cousin Larry, or Oscar Madison and Felix Unger, or maybe even Shawn Michaels and John Cena. In a way they sort of remind me of my cats (seriously, click the video, it’s short and funny): They bring a lot of bluster to their skirmishes, but ultimately don’t do a lot of damage.

I suppose together they would be a quality center, delivering about 15 points and 12 rebounds per 42 minutes, but paying a combined

12 million per year to these guys seems more inflated than the list price on a Palm Springs condo development circa ’06.

I have a strong hunch that this season will mark the end of the Thomas-Haywood pairing. The rise of rookie Javale McGee, plus the months-long wrist injury to Haywood, plus the ouster of coach Eddie Jordan, will surely upset the lazy equilibrium that kept the two big galoots together for over seven years.

ADONAL FOYLE AND ERICK DAMPIER
Golden State picked up two centers in the summer of 1997: Adonal Foyle and Erick Dampier. Amazingly, Dampier stuck around for seven seasons until the summer of ’04, when his contract expired, and Foyle eventually played a total of ten years with the Dubs. During the seven seasons they played together, their combined average stats were as follows, by my calculations: In about 44 minutes per game, 13.5 points, 12.5 rebounds, and 3.3 blocks. About the same as Haywood and Thomas. Then why, in the summer of ’04, did the Warriors sign Foyle to a six-year, $42 million contract? (And why did Dallas reward Dampier with a seven-year, $73 million contract at the very same time? Isn’t it clear that these guys suck? Dampier sure didn’t contain Dwyane Wade’s drives at the time Dallas most needed him.)

These guys remind me of Thomas and Haywood: one nerd, one jock. Thomas, of course, is an anti-war activist and a published poet. Meanwhile, Adonal Foyle founded a network of college student clubs that push for public financing of campaigns. Not sure what Foyle thought of Obama’s every-day-is-Christmas routine.

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In part 2, coming Thursday, we will consider more role players who should give thanks to their loyal teams, including Malik Rose and the monstrous Collins brothers.

Virtual Reality

For a bit of a laugh, go here and look at the "Player Matchups" section. Someone in Disney's IT department screwed up the coding there...

I note that the 2007 page and 2008 page don't have the same problem (i.e. the player values for the "Matchup" section are statically rendered as of the date of the playoff series).

Our Thanksgiving post comes later today (Sunday).

Whither Marion?

What happened to this guy? He's a four-time All-Star and two-time All-NBA third team member ... but so far this season he sucks. He didn't like being the third star in Phoenix, and now he gets to play with another megawatt talent in Miami and be the second star. But his numbers are significantly down in every category. One would think that he would turn on the juice to secure a rich new contract. Is he partying too much down there?

Si Se Puede Jugar

Caron Butler opines on new Wizards coach Ed Tapscott:

Now that we got 'Obama' on the sideline with us, we're going to ride with it. Tap, he's light-skinned, he stands for change, he's got a law degree, he uses big words, and he's new in the district, and he's in control now, so shout out to Obama. We won tonight; he brought a lot of hope. And he's good with numbers, so hopefully he'll change the economy as well.

Given that the White House is about a 15-minute walk from the Verizon Center (or three minutes by motorcade), I don't see why the new President can't get himself some seats in the owner's box and become a regular Wizards fan. True, Clinton didn't start rooting for the Hoyas over the Razorbacks, and Bush surely still checks Rangers scores on ESPN, and it's true that Obama was in Chicago during Jordan's glory years, but if he wants to see some ball (or keep up his habit of balling with NBAers), it's clear where to go.

El Canadiense

Normally at this blog we try to stick to careful analysis and rise above base emotion, but wow, Phoenix was trailing by 12 points with 9 minutes left and they came back to win by 1, thanks to 12 subsequent points and 4 assists from Steve Nash!

Granted, it was only Oklahoma, but that was a hell of a game to follow from one's computer. I would not have wanted to write a sequel to my “Epic Fail” post from last week, also involving Phoenix.

It's also interesting that the online availability of real-time scores, even with play-by-play updates, has allowed fans to invest emotionally in games no matter if they're stuck at the office, or if they're overseas. Just as, 50 years ago, the onset of television allowed fans outside the arena to get themselves hyped about the ongoing status of a sports match, the internet allows anyone with a computer to pray for their side and bite into some drama. Back in 2004 when Sacramento (a favorite team of mine at the time) went against Minnesota in the second round of the West playoffs, I was living in Europe, and I stayed up until about 4 in the morning, looking at little circles moving across my computer screen on ESPN's play-by-play tracker, hoping that Webber could pull the boys through. It didn't happen, but the risk and thrill of that experience was way better than just going to sleep and waking up the next morning to check the score.

Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret

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One Jump Ahead of the Breadline

The NY Times had a very good piece last week about the phenomenon of offensive players grunting, moaning, yelling, or otherwise vocalizing when they put up a shot near the basket. This is apparently the offensive counterpart to flopping. Presumably, players do this because it works (or at least, they think it works): it increases their probability of receiving a favorable foul call, effectuating the beloved “and one” scenario.

I am slightly saddened (though I shouldn’t be) that referees are apparently so easily swayed by these antics. Whether you call this bounded rationality or cue awareness or sensory limitation, it’s obvious that referees, as humans, cannot shut out their various biases when calling fouls. That includes biases as to the reputations of individual players, biases as to the appropriateness of fouls in various game situations (hence the original “Jordan pushed off” problem), and biases as to the propriety of a big man slamming a small. Perhaps some of these biases are normatively desirable as a way of guiding refs to a decision that is likelier to be correct, in a setting where no human could possibly follow all the action occuring at close range between world-class athletes at breakneck speeds. It reminds me of some recent unfortunate luck when I was forced to sit in the front-most row of a packed theater to watch the latest James Bond film. When Daniel Craig stood in one place, I could follow the scene, but the chases across the rooftops of Haiti were a bit much for my eyeballs.

I would like to quickly think through the league-wide implications of this yelling strategy.

I. Let’s assume first that making these perorations is costless: that is, it is neither painful nor tiring nor shot-altering to yell out a cry of pain as you release the ball. If that’s the case, and screaming increases your chance of getting a foul call, we would expect everyone to do it. … But if that is so, referees presumably would recognize that they are getting “played” by cheap talk; I assume that referees have some ability to deliberately and consciously counteract their biases. Ultimately propensities of foul calls would be exactly the same as if nobody was doing it. That is not a very interesting equilibrium. On the other hand, if referees were differentially affected by the screams of different players — probably they would be more sympathetic to little guys — then we might see more fouls called for the benefit of little men and fewer fouls called for the benefit of bigs. And if that were the case, we might then see little guys with the temerity to drive to the hole even more than before; and, perhaps, we might see some bigs with shooting touch slightly more willing to put up a J from the perimeter, which might reduce referees’ propensity or willingness to blow their whistle for the little guys. You can’t be blowing your whistle on every play. That, in turn, could bring the equilibrium back somewhat closer to the no-whining scenario, though we might still see more drives by little guys and more fouls called for their benefit.

(I should note that I’m assuming that referees want to keep the total number of fouls called in a game fairly constant, so as not to slow the game down and cause more foul-out disqualifications. I would be curious to see data on how the average number of fouls per game has varied over time. Retrospective accounts hold that the 1990s NBA of Jackson’s Bulls, Riley’s Knicks, and Riley’s Heat was particularly thuggish and slow, but was that really so?)

II. Let’s assume next that yelling has a cost. Let us first assume that yelling is equally costly for everyone. If that is so, then if the cost is low enough, the benefit of yelling could exceed the cost, and everyone would do it, as in the above discussion. If the cost is too high, nobody would do it.

What if there is a differential cost of yelling across different players? I will assume that yelling is more difficult for big men than for little men: Big men have bigger lungs to fill to produce those exhortations, and big men typically have poorer long-run stamina than little guys. A regular habit of screaming during every shot attempt would be more deleterious to power players than to wiry guards.

There are a few possibilities under that broad rubric. First, it could be that even with the differential cost, the costs are just generally too high for everyone to justify doing it; thus, nobody would do it. Second, it could be that the costs for everyone are so still low that everyone wants to do it, so everyone increases their frequency of going hard to the hoop. This would resemble my discussion in I. above, but now little guys would be more emboldened (relative to bigs) to drive and cry out, compared to the scenario described in I. If refs are equally affected viscerally by the cries of bigs and smalls, and they are able to notice that smalls are whining more than bigs are, they might consciously call fouls for the benefit of little guys with lower propensity, so as to maintain the overall number of fouls called. Thus, the whining of a Wade or Iverson would be counterproductive. (It could even reduce the value of whining for munchkins so much that in the equilibrium, smalls would whine with equal frequency to bigs.)

Third, we could have a scenario where the cost of grunting was so high for big men (compared to the perceived benefit) that they chose not to do it, but low enough for smalls that they find it worthwhile. Then only smalls would be grunting, and the smalls would, at least at first, find themselves receiving beneficial foul calls with higher propensity than before. Referees could adjust to this by consciously reducing their propensity of foul calls equally, regardless of height of the beneficiary (in which case big men would receive fewer foul calls in the equilibrium, compared to the world without whining); or perhaps they might realize that smalls are causing the uptick in fouls with their whining, and decide to be less kind to the little guys.


There’s a lot of moving parts in this analysis and I know there are issues that I’ve not thought carefully about, but that’s my first cut.

Bundle of Joy

In my ongoing catalog of notable parent-child NBA relationships, I learned today that Javale McGee of the Wizards is the son of a former WNBA player. The article tells us that McGee is the only son of a WNBA player to ever make the NBA, which sounds like an amazing factoid until you consider that the WNBA only began in 1997. I would not be surprised if other NBA players had ball-playing mothers. McGee's father was also a college basketball star and was drafted back in 1985, but never made the L.

I was considering adding McGee to my fantasy team, but I just don't think he has what it takes.

Donnie Walsh Just Messed Up My Fantasy Squad

It's exciting to watch the Knicks make moves that would clear salary cap space for a run at James, Bosh, Stoudemire, or Wade in 2010. As of now, after the Crawford trade, the Knicks' only players contracted for 2010-11 are Randolph, Curry, Jeffries, Gallinari, and Wilson Chandler. (Curry and Jeffries have player options, but at their salaries it's difficult to imagine either foregoing the money and testing the market.) You have to figure that the Knicks will trade at least one of the first three in the next 20 months to further reduce salary. But even if the Knicks re-sign Robinson, Lee, and/or Duhon beyond 2010, these hardly seem like the building blocks of a championship contender. James recently stated that he will make his decision by assessing his chances to win “multiple championships” .

At the same time, if Cleveland hopes to retain James, they are hardly stacked for the post-2010 era. Right now the only other quality players they have signed for 2010-11 are three dimunitive guards: Gibson, West, and Williams. None of Cleveland's current big men -- Ilgauskas, Wallace, or Varejao -- will likely be on the team two years hence; the first two of those will be ready for retirement. Perhaps Cleveland management can trade an expiring contract (either Szczerbiak this year, or Wallace or Ilgauskas next year) to a rebuilding team looking to jettison an All-Star power man in his prime, but what such players exist? Maybe Dirk Nowitzki, if Mark Cuban abandoned all hope of championship success. The Wizards might be willing to deal Antawn Jamison if they continue to play crappily, but his skills seem to duplicate those of James, except not as good.

It actually seems more likely that Bosh or James or Stoudemire would sign with Miami to play alongside Wade and Beasley. (Bosh or Wade or Amaré could come to Cleveland alongside James, but why would you choose Cleveland over Miami or Phoenix or even Toronto, which is an awesome city though cold?)

The only other two possible realistic destinations for these mega-stars are Chicago and Phoenix. The Bulls have only Rose, Hinrich, Deng and Nocioni under contract for 2010-11; if Hinrich can be traded, the others make only about $24M of salary. Who wouldn't want to play with the blooming Rose? Phoenix has only Diaw and Barbosa under contract for 2010-11. Why not re-sign Amaré and nab LeBron or Wade? Now you're loaded for five years of championship runs.

I've read that Portland could be positioned to sign one of these all-world players, but after they re-sign Roy and Aldridge in the fall of 2009, and then as they prepare to extend Oden's contract in the fall of 2010, how can they afford another star? I suppose they could dump one of that trio if they have a real shot at one of the headline free agents.

UPDATE: After I posted that, the Knicks completed a trade on Friday afternoon of Randolph and Mardy Collins to the Clippers for Mobley and Tim Thomas. They should start playing Curry to burnish his market value. But I'm still not convinced that the top megastars would want to join a team with no existing core.

What's In A Name? Part I

In a recent post I touched briefly on the difficult pronunciation of the name of Mike Krzyzewski. It made me realize that the NBA is full of a wonderful wealth of prolix names that don’t get enough appreciation. Sadly, these names are too often mangled by those who are paid to speak about them.

For several years, ESPN/ABC's Mike Breen has sent me into excruciating pain every time he mispronounces the surname of Fabricio Oberto. (Those are all Youtube links) Note to Mike: The second syllable of the guy’s name rhymes with English "bear", not the third U.S. Vice President. Why can't he get it right? Spanish vowels are easy. Has nobody bothered to correct him?

Then there’s Kobe Bryant, who got his name from a steakhouse in Pennsylvania, which is named after a particular style of beef, which is named after a city in western Japan. Rightly, the name should be pronounced “KOH-beh” (rhymes with “OK”), not “Ko-bee” (rhymes with “holy”). Given that he’s used the latter all his life, I wouldn’t try to change it now, but it certainly takes a lot of chutzpah to walk around with somebody else’s city attached to you and give it a new sound. Granted, we don’t pronounce “Paris” or “Montreal” or any number of place names as the locals do, but that’s because those names employ silent letters or weird sounds that don’t fit in English. It’s not hard to simply get a vowel right. (Then again, before I lived in Manhattan, I thought there was only one way to say “Houston”…)

My co-bloggers once mocked me at a restaurant for correcting a waitress who pronounced “karaoke” the American way, rather than the simple and phonetic “ka-ra-o-keh”. Fine, I'm a pedantic dweeb. But why would anyone deliberately mangle a word that is patent and clear?

Slavic names have long posed a problem for NBA commentators. Stojakovic, Divac, Petrovic, Vujacic: is the final sound “-itz”, “-ik”, or “-ich” ? My understanding is that the latter is most right, but I remain open to additional education. Charles Barkley, who seems like a smart guy but often remains gleefully and obstinately ignorant of basic facts on the ground, prefers the “-ik” ending.

Then you have Walter Herrmann, whose parents came from Germany, who grew up in Argentina, and now plays in the States. Shall we pronounce his name the German way (“HEHR-mahn”), the Spanish way (“ehr-mahn”), or the American way (like the surname of Pee-Wee)? I actually don’t know how he chooses to say it. Perhaps the example of Walter brings to absurdity my fealty to ethnic essentialism. My hunch is that he identifies as being more Latin than German, just as when I travel abroad I feel more American than … (well, in the interest of remaining Everyblogger, I won’t discuss my own origins here). Carlos Slim, the richest guy in Mexico, had a Lebanese father named Salem, so when I meet him in America, shall I say his name the Spanish way (“sleem”), American (“slim”), or in the Arabic fashion? He might punch me in the face if I tried to be all Orientalist “I know your people” on him.

To be sure, NBA-ites have done a good job of learning the right way to say many tangy names. Mostly everyone (save Charles Barkley) says “Nowitzki” correctly. Deng, Dalembert, Turkoglu, Bargnani: None are phonetic in an English scheme (and, while the latter three of those come from languages that use Roman alphabet, for Luol's name I question a transliteration scheme that results in an English spelling that makes no sense) but everyone knows roughly how to say those guys’ names. Even many TV pundits have learned to roll “Ahmadinejad” off their tongue. I don’t question the good faith of NBA personalities who talk about these players, but I do wonder, sincerely, why some names get Americanized and some don’t. Oh, and returning to my most recent post, did you know Mark Cuban’s original family name was Chabenisky?

In further posts, I will attempt to examine the wondrous diversity in nomenclature of American-born players.

True Contrarian

My co-blogger H.O.S.S. knows a thing or two about securities litigation, so I will await his insights, perhaps in comments, but in the interim I just want to comment about the irony of Mark Cuban’s legal troubles for selling some stock after allegedly receiving a confidential tip that it was about to tank. Isn’t that how Cuban got rich in the first place? He helped to build Broadcast.com, which was a brilliant website for its time, and struck it rich twice, first through the IPO and then when Yahoo acquired 100% of the company shares in an all-stock acquisition in 1999. Cuban timed the transactions almost perfectly, as the NASDAQ crashed about one year after he sold out. Presumably as a savvy operator, he knew to sell high; he knew based on his inside knowledge that his business had nowhere to go but down, at least in valuation.

Live by the bear, die by the bear…

Tuesday Recap: Orlando Magic vs. Toronto Raptors

This is why I bought NBA League Pass: Last night’s game between the Orlando Magic and the Toronto Raptors did not attract national television coverage (er, U.S. national television – it was broadcast nationwide in Canada), but it pitted two of the Eastern Conference’s most promising young teams against each other.

It is striking just how similar the teams are. First, the Raptors and the Magic each possess one bona fide superstar in the form of a young, charismatic power forward. It has become increasingly clear this season that the torch has been passed from Kevin Garnett and Tim Duncan to Chris Bosh and Dwight Howard. Second, in Rashard Lewis and Jermaine O’Neal, each team carries on its roster an overpaid former all-star who knows he’s overpaid. Both the Magic and Raptors know that neither Lewis nor O’Neal is worth max money, but these young teams and their fans are just so impatient to join the NBA’s elite that they’ll dole out superstar money to merely solid players. Third, each team has an underappreciated, foreign-born, borderline all-star in Hedo Turkoglu and Jose Calderon. Fourth, although both teams have impressive starting line-ups, they are wafer-thin once you get past the starting five.

Despite the final score, last night’s game was deceptively close. More importantly, Toronto was playing without Calderon (and displayed a shocking lack of depth at the PG position). Also significant is the fact that for much of the game, the Magic was playing 6 on 4 basketball against the Raptors. (I count Will Solomon, the Raptors’ starting point guard, as an Orlando player – that’s how bad he was. The 3 turnovers don’t tell half the story – there should be a stat for “wasted possessions,” i.e., when the PG dribbles the ball going nowhere for 20 seconds and then makes the post entry pass so that Chris Bosh receives the ball outside the three point line with 4 seconds to shoot.)

And if Toronto fans needed another reason not to be discouraged, Chris Bosh’s play was off the charts. Not only did he put up huge numbers (44 pts, 18 reb, 14-19 FG), but he was diving for loose balls and seemed eager to take the team on his shoulders (something he hasn’t looked comfortable doing in years past). Additionally, it seems that Toronto’s twin towers experiment with J.O. and CB4 is paying early dividends. The two looked comfortable playing together, although I’d like to see them utilize the high-low post pass even more. Jermaine was also a beast against Howard, holding the Superman to mere mortal numbers. (The box score shows just one block for O’Neal – I swear I saw at least four not counting the number of bad/changed shots he forced the Magic players to make.)

While Toronto fans could take solace in a number of positives from yesterday’s game, at the end of the day, a loss is still a loss. Nevertheless, it has to be encouraging to have shut down Howard who made the Raptors defense look downright JV in the first round of last year’s playoffs.

No Curry, No Hurry, No Worry

Two weeks ago I discoursed at length about father-son dyads in the basketball universe. I neglected to mention Stephen Curry, the son of former NBA player and current Charlotte Bobcats assistant coach Dell Curry. The father was a 40% career 3-point shooter, and the all-time leading scorer for the Charlotte Hornets. His son seems to have inherited some of the senior Curry's shooting prowess, either through genetic gift or perhaps just youthful osmosis. Tonight he dropped 44 against Oklahoma, which boasts the likely top pick in the next NBA draft. 44 points in a 40-minute game with a college system is quite sick. I happened to be watching the game in a bar when he hit an impossible 3-pointer in the final minute, and I went bananas when the ball rained through. People in the bar thought I was a little nuts.

At 6'2", Curry will likely have problems trying to play the same "hero" game in the NBA. Shooting guards in the pros are 6'6" and up; like other smallish shooters like J.J. Redick and Salim Stoudamire, Curry will be often stymied at the offensive end, and will be routinely embarrassed on D. Curry needs to work on his handle and his passing skills if he wants a niche in the league. Happily, in the first three games of this season, he's averaging seven assists, after averaging only three assists in each of his previous two seasons.

In the area of News You Can Use, I just learned from Wikipedia that the father and son actually have the same name: the elder is named Wardell Stephen Curry, while the younger is named Wardell Stephen Curry II.