PhDribble

The Felling of the Phoenix: What We Have Learned

               

Out of all the reasons for the Suns' demise, the loudest has been the least convincing.  From Sir Chuck to DCollins, Lig elders have closed ranks to condemn D'Antoni's system.  Fire up the torches.  I smell a witchhunt!  'Defense wins championships'...'The playoffs are a different game'...'You can't get the ship by outscoring the other team'...and on and on.  And yet, the evidence suggests a myriad of circumstantial causes for the Fall of Phoenix, none of which should discredit Dantoniball and the EBA.

The list of reasons for the Suns' demise is surely a long one.  Here have been the most prominent:

1) During a toss-up series with the Spurs, Amare lost his head and got a one-game suspension.

2) Lockerroom drama with Marion and Amare eventually could not be reconciled. 

3) Sarver's cheap antics led the team to sell off its draft picks (including Rondo) and, more importantly, forced the release of Kurt Thomas, who, wouldn't you know, was instrumental in the Spurs' sweep this playoffs.

4) Nash's prime came when Amare was young and then injured.  Bad timing.  The stars didn't align.

5) The Spurs were just a better team, better players.  And the Lake-show before them. 

What do these circumstances add up to?  The stars didn't align.  The ball bounced off the rim.  NOT an inherent flaw in D'Antoni's system.   If you have ever heard Collins call a GState game, you know exactly how frustrated he gets with Nelly-ball.  Collins believes in defense-first.  Legitimate?  Completely.  But the sad reality is that D'Antoni's system has challenged that Lig dogma.  And that has not sat well.  He was a rebel and now that he has stumbled, it's payback time. 

And to what effect?  Certain Lig elders still maintain a stranglehold on the discourse.  Most often I find them fascinating and hone my own views with theirs in the front of my mind.  But in this case, the discourse has stifled actual analysis.

As I have listened to Chicago Sports Talk Radio the last few days, I have heard the echoing of the "Defense First Crowd" (DFC.)  The radio has been filled with Chicagoans and their sports experts condeming the D'Antoni hire already.  They repeat the same maxims.  And, to my bafflement, have not seen that the Bulls could potentially be the most exciting team in basketball.  Instead, Chicagoans have harped on the same old same old, D...F...C...'defense wins championships.'

You cannot be serious!  You're better than that...!...Alas, I guess beggars can be boo-birds.

It would be a shame if the take-home from the Nash years will be a lesson in defeat.  It will be a shame if the once future of basketball becomes buried in the past.  D'Antoni-ball and the EBA is a legitimate challenge to the 'play the right way' strategy.  And, in the words so recently repeated...It's not deficient.  It's just different.

YouTube Gold

Where Fickle Friends Happens

Where The Reverend Happens

He is not deficient. 

 He is just different!

When Sons Become Fathers

               

Is it fitting or ironic that most of us saw the great Bissinger/Leitch newspaper bout of 2008 on a cable tv show streamed through a blog discovered by clicking through a metablog?  It brings to mind the 1960 Nixon/Kennedy debate.  It was the first televised presidential debate.  Nixon sweated.  Kennedy glowed.  As prominently reported, most listening to the debate on the radio thought Nixon had won.  While those watching on television saw Kennedy as the victor.  And so it was that Bissinger's rants and raves played perfectly into the contagion of the viral video while Leitch could maintain his composure, winking and nodding to the internet-savvy who obviously knew the difference between a comment and a post.  Bissinger relied on long quotations, effective only in a read medium. 

Bissinger's anger, when edited and shaped for the page, might read salient and convincing.  Case in point, the NYT coverage of the segment:

“I think blogs are dedicated to cruelty, they’re dedicated to dishonesty, they’re dedicated to speed,” Bissinger said. He cast a wide net of derision over virtually all blogs as responsible for the dumbing down of society; he arrived with a folder from which he read offensive stuff from Deadspin as if he were an incensed prosecutor, and he used profanity to decry the vulgar sins of blogging.

Angry? Yes.  Passionate?  Yes.  Unhinged?  Not so much.  Oh, but not on my computer screen.  Oh no.  Streaming makes him look like he's got a bout of the crazies.

It was a sad alliance.  Costas the screen star and Bissinger the print loyalist.   Was it not so long ago that tv clip highlights were pushing next-day write-ups to extinction?  Strange times bring strange cred-fellows.

Yet the truly stirring irony came from both Bissinger and Costas' professed newspaper idols: Ernie Pyle, W.C, Heinz and Woodward and Bernstein.  To a man, these journalists were not members of the newspaper establishment, but pioneers attempting to push the boundaries of coverage.  Pyle famously embedded himself with soldiers in World War II, shunting the traditionally omniscient newsman's voice for the "folksy" tenor of the countryboy soldier.  Heinz crusaded for "New Journalism," the young rebels' covenant to pull back the curtain from reporting and place the writer and all his troubled perspective in full view.  Woodward and Bernstein made their names not writing on their beat, but doggedly uncovering the Watergate cover-up often deemed too controversial by their managing editors.  These news rebels, these print cowboys inspired Bissinger and Costas and Wilbon and Kornheiser's generations.  The mythology of the chain-smoking, hung-over newspaper/trouble-maker so defies the establishment ethos that Bissinger et al tout.  It has left most of the blogosphere in shock at its transparent contradictions.

And that is a shame.  Because the debate is worth having.  As odious as Bissinger and Costas' respective styles appear, their message is age-old.  It is a generational battle that once seemingly won by the youth will be revived by their sons and daughters.  And yet who is the winner?  No doubt the blogosphere is here to stay.  But so are its discontents.  Two and a half decades ago, a battle was waged between Jesse Helms and Robert Maplethorpe.  The cultural left leapt to the aid of Maplethorpe and his anal art, Sally Mann and her naked family, and Andres Serrano and his Piss Christ.  And who won?  Helms would be excoriated in history books.  Legislation went no where.  Yet, meanwhile, the excesses of Maplethorpe, Serrano, and Mann lost their appeal.  The art world grew bored of shock-art and moved on as well.  Just so, the excited glee of athlete embarrassments will dull.  It will not lose its audience, simply the front page as more professional bloggers will rise to the top.

When Costas said, "the real problem is the tone of gratuitous potshots and mean-spirited abuse," the interesting effect was that most bloggers agreed.  I have read few facile calls about freedom of speech and corporate censorship that was so indicative of the Helms/Maplethorpe debates.  Instead, this surprisingly moderate young generation argued that the blogosphere is a meritocracy, that the writing is strong, and the writers educated.

One day Will Leitch will reminisce about the cowboy days of the early blogospheres when hard work and talent was rewarded in the Wild West meritocracy of the first years of the blog.  And no doubt his heir apparent will mention how much crap was out there and how long it took to load those videos.

And one more note, if you haven't read Bissinger's recent NYT op-ed, it's a real good read.

 

The Young and the Restless

It's been a remarkable half-first round.  And I have been reluctant to post because the returns have only started to come in.  There are so many sweet sites to read intelligent commentary from day-to-day, game-to-game, even quarter-to-quarter [look to your right sidebar for just a few of my favorites.]  But the historian in me wants to see how the action will unfold before drawing conclusions. 

Sports by nature are teological, we write the story starting with the outcome and working backwards.  How much will the Atlanta Kaw-Kaws two wins matter?  Well, if the Celts win it all...not even a bit.  If they faulter in the finals...maybe it will be seen as a sign.  If the Celts flop in the CFs or get slammed by Lebron...well, then the Hawks' wins will loom larger and larger as glaring evidence of the Celts age, Doc's panic, and so on and so on...

So, what now?  For me, I have just been enjoying the ride.  The playoffs really are a new season and faultering is inevitable.  Playing well, hitting slumps, these are all going to happen in four rounds of best of sevens.  It is, as the truism goes, how the teams respond.

That being said, the Hawks and Sixers have given all of us a big sloppy high-flying early Xmas.  Their simultaneous surprises has led many to group them together.  Rightly so.  And when watching these teams, it is hard to resist a comparison to the Baby Bulls.  And when making such a comparison, it leads us to ask: will these teams continue to grow into title contenders or will they peak and disintegrate like their Chicago brethren?

A closer examination should show us that these teams are potentially going in opposite directions.  All excuses aside (contracts, injuries, Skiles,) the Baby Bulls could not take the next step.  They lacked the superstar, the leader, the charismatic center to ground their team and lead them to the next level. And this is where I see a major difference between Atlanta and Philly.  While Joe Amazing proved to the whole world that he has budding superstar potential, AI proved once again, as Agent Zero so aptly pointed out, that he'll be a great #2.  Under the leadership of Joe, the Hawks' potential to contend appears limitless.  Philly lacks that piece. While I love me some Little Louie, Baddeus, and the Carney Knowledge, the Sixers need to play it verrrry smart in these next few years.  It will not be enough to surround this corps with pieces.  None of these young'uns will be able to lead them to the promised land.  They need a blockbuster.  And they need it before the team goes the way of the Bulls.

Riley the Terrible

When Vladimir Putin agreed to step aside as president of Russia, he made sure one thing was clear: his successor would be his man.  He chose Dmitry Medvedev to succede him because Medvedev's rise was dependent on Putin.  And there remains little doubt that although the chairs will soon shift, Putin still holds the leash.

And so in Miami.  Is it little surprise that Riley promoted a coach who has no credibility of his own?  At 37 Erik Spoelstra will be the youngest coach in the Lig.  Is it any surprise that Riley found a man who would have no recourse, no independent power base to assert his authority?  Miami is as Riley does.  There will be no StanVan 2.0.  Riley may not be on the bench but he has made sure this time that he holds all the strings.

Games Are Fun - III

Who can resist the Look-Alikes?

1. Answer

2. Answer

3. Answer

Revisionist History

Sometimes a piece of evidence just sends my historian's heart atwitter.  I have written earlier at the PhDribble about the change in Lig culture from the Jordan days to today's "Age of Play the Right Way":

"...In fact, Lebrand's handlers and he have crafted an image far different than Jordan's.  In the 'I Wanna Be Like Mike' campaign, Jordan was the absent, unobtainable ideal.  Highlights flashed, but Jordan-the-man never appeared.  He remained clouded in mystery, a super-human force that could only be dreamed of, whose underwear Cuba only wishes he could wear.  Conversely, Lebron narrates his newest shoe ad, depicting himself as the humble superstar, the new kind of superstar, the new ideal.  He tells the keedz that they can be better than him, that he's far from perfect, that even Lebrand needs to keep working on his skeels.  Even as Lebron has become Lebrand, his image has not mimicked Michael's.  His image has portrayed a different idea of American virtue: selfless and hard-working..." (Nov 20, 2007)

And now, right on cue, MJs new commercial:

Where "Rafer? I Hardly Knew 'Er" Happens