The Brilliance of Chris Paul

I know Chris, I missed you too.

Three years ago I was best described as a casual basketball fan. Then I watched Chris Paul perform in the 2008 NBA playoffs, and I wasn’t a casual fan anymore.

Chris Paul’s run during that postseason made me want to be a basketball fan, much the same way that reading The Great Gatsby made me want to understand literature on a deeper level, or how seeing Die Hard for the first time increased my love of Christmas tenfold. The barrage of crossovers, floaters and bounce passes that Paul let loose in those playoffs left me in awe, and I wanted more.

And then, tragically, Chris Paul just sort of disappeared. After missing almost half of last season with a knee injury, he returned to the court this year as a deeply lessened version of himself. He still managed to put up decent stats and get his team into the playoffs, but the knee was clearly holding him back. Watching him this season was like watching Die Hard 2, still fun, but nowhere near as good as the original.

As a basketball fan, this circumstance made me very sad, because when Chris Paul is playing well he is more fun to watch than any other player in the league.

I say this because there is something incredibly unique about Paul’s greatness; in that it is not derived from pure athletic force, but rather from subtlety and craft. When you look at guys like Dwight Howard and LeBron James you immediately know why they are two of the best players of the league, and while watching them do their thing is no doubt impressive, there also isn’t really much to it. They are simply bigger, stronger and faster than everyone else in the league, and they know how to take full advantage of their physical gifts.

Paul is different, though. He doesn’t make other players look silly by jumping over them, he does it by unleashing an ever so slight flick of the wrist or bob of the head. His movements are so subtle that sometimes you can’t even see them until the play is shown again in slow motion.

Take the play at the 2:01 minute mark of this highlight reel for example. Watching the play at full speed, it’s not exactly clear what Paul does to make Jason Kidd temporarily lose control of his limbs. If you look carefully, you can see him do something with his right hand, but it’s just a brief flicker, there and gone before you make sense of what just happened. Paul’s like a magician performing a card trick. You know you saw him do something with that damn card, and yet it’s still nowhere to be found when he opens his hand.

It’s not until the play is slowed down that the genius of Paul’s subtlety becomes apparent. You see him feign a crossover to his left as he slides his right hand underneath the ball, leaving it spinning in place like a yo-yo. You see him calmly re-collect the ball with his right hand as he explodes past a bewildered Kidd. You see him finish with a spectacular pass that is completely mundane when compared to the magic trick that started the play.

You feel bad for Jason Kidd.

It is plays like this that made me fall in love with Chris Paul, and subsequently the game of basketball. This is why it was so sad to see him playing as a shell of his former self, to be forced to acknowledge the possibility that Paul’s best days were already behind him.

And then Sunday night’s game against the Lakers happened.

There was Chris Paul, mercilessly exerting his will onto the Lakers defense, utterly in control of every facet of the game and finishing with 27 points, 13 rebounds and 15 assists.

Paul played brilliantly the entire night, and yet as the game was winding down I found myself still waiting for that one magic trick of a play, the one play I’d need to see over and over again in order to fully understand what had happened (this ridiculous crossover move on Bynum came awfully close).

It was on the game’s pivotal possession, with the Hornets up three and fourteen seconds left on the clock, that I got my wish.

Paul isolated against Kobe Bryant at the top of the key, drove left, and then did this (fast forward to the 4:00 minute mark of the video).

When I saw the game live, I had no idea how Jarrett Jack had ended up with the ball just inside the free throw line. I saw Paul go careening down the left side of the lane where he was enveloped by the limbs of Pau Gasol and Kobe Bryant, and then the ball just seemed to appear in Jack’s hands, who proceeded to knock down the game clinching jumper.

Stranded in mid-air with nowhere to go, facing what would have at best been a brick off of the back board and at worst a blocked shot, Paul somehow managed to see Jack cutting towards the lane out of the absolute furthest corner of his eye; and with one quick flick of the wrist, he’d pulled off another card trick.

And it felt good to be dazzled once again.

Feel free to contact the author of this post at leyt345 dot gmail dot com.

Kobe Bryant, Hardest Working Man in Show Business

After playing somewhat poorly in a tough loss against the Miami Heat last Friday, Lakers guard Kobe Bryant did something that was as predictable as it was constructed.

He remained at American Airlines arena long after the game had ended, shooting jumpers for several hours with only a couple of ball boys, a few reporters, and a conveniently rolling camera to keep him company.

A lot of people will see Bryant’s extracurricular shooting session as yet another piece of evidence in support of the idea that Bryant cares more about winning, works harder and leads by example better than anyone else in the league. Just look at Yahoo Sports’ Adrian Wojnarowski, who was gracious enough to live tweet Bryant’s shooting session.

Ugh. You can almost hear him humming the Rocky theme as he typed those out.

It’s not fair to single out Wojnarowski by the way. You can find many other examples of sports writers waistbanding their boners long enough to type out slack-jawed odes to Kobe’s work ethic here and here,

These people were fooled by Kobe Bryant, because I don’t think he shot basketballs into the wee hours of the night because he is some kind of basketball Mandala artist. I believe he staged his late night shoot around because he wants people to think that’s what he is.

Let’s look back at Bryant’s failures in the closing minutes of Friday’s game. After nailing a 28 ft. 3-pointer to tie the game at 88 and doing his underbite face thing, Kobe gets stripped by Dwyane Wade on the next possession, which leads to a fast break dunk for LeBron James.

On the next possession Kobe catches the inbounds pass, and with 24 seconds left on the shot clock he decides to chuck a 3-pointer. Airball.

On the following Heat possession Kobe plays some truly awful pick and roll defense as Wade explodes by him for an easy layup.

The next time Kobe touches the ball he fumbles it out of bounds for a Lakers turnover.

The game ends with Kobe clanging a 30 ft. 3-pointer attempt off of the front of the rim.

Looking back at those last few minutes of the game, it’s pretty clear that Kobe’s failures were derived from poor shot selection, (even the 28 footer that went in can be described as ill-advised) bad defensive awareness and a lack of ball security.

So how exactly is shooting jumpers for two hours after the game supposed to help remedy these issues?

It isn’t.

It’s only meant to keep Kobe’s carefully constructed image intact, so that even in defeat we can still find an excuse to praise him for wanting it more than anyone else. So it’s not surprising when Heat beat writer Ira Winderman tweeted that Kobe did have access to a private practice facility after the game, but instead chose to work out in the empty arena.

I’m willing to bet that there weren’t any cameras in the practice facility.

It’s not like this is the first time we’ve seen this kind of behavior from Kobe, either. Remember the filmic hand job that was Spike Lee’s Kobe Doin’ Work? The movie was billed as a documentary, but Kobe came off like an actor rather than a subject.

The guy who constantly bitches at referees, sneers disapprovingly at his teammates and sits in silence on the bench had suddenly vanished. Instead what we saw on the screen was a calm, jovial guy who goes out of his way to encourage his teammates and chit chat with Sasha Vujacic. (Easily the most ridiculous part of the movie)

"Does this make me look intense? God I hope
this makes me look intense."

Anyone who has watched Kobe Bryant play more than 2 times will understand which one of these personas is real, and which one is not.

If Kobe really wanted it more than anyone else, he could have found a much better use of his time following Friday’s game. He could have studied game film to figure out how to improve his pick and roll defense with Pau Gasol, or he could have done some dribbling drills to make sure that he doesn’t get his pocket picked again in the final minutes of a close game.

Personally, I think he would have been best served drafting up a Craigslist ad that would read something like, “NBA player seeks personal assistant to stand behind the bench and scream ‘Hey fuckhead, don’t forget to pass the ball!’ at me during the last four minutes of every game. If interested send references and resume to Bmamba69@gmail.com.”

Then again, none of those things are going to look very good on camera.

Goodbye, 'Melo Brick Road

Before we begin, can I just say that I really hope that this headline wins the award for “Most Retarded Carmelo Anthony Trade Saga Headline?”

Finally, Carmelo Anthony has been traded to the New York Knicks, and thank fucking Christ that this whole mess is finally over with. I had just about reached my limit for wild speculation and interviews given with sunglasses on.

According to the Denver Post, the Nuggets have received Danilo Gallinari, Wilson Chandler, Ray Felton, Timofey Mozgov, the Knicks 2014 first round pick, and two second round picks from the Warriors.

The Knicks will receive Carmelo, Chauncey Billups, Shelden Williams, Renaldo Balkman, and Anthony Carter.

In other words, the Knicks just shit all over the bed.

I don’t say this because the trade is a lopsided one, but because the Knicks should have been able to steal Carmelo from the Nuggets for next to nothing. Instead, they had to give away 3/5 of their starting rotation and a Russian guy who’s face has been smashed into Blake Griffin’s testicles, which is actually a good thing as far as I’m concerned, because…I mean…those are Blake Griffin's nuts.

Anyone who isn’t half of a derp has known for months that Carmelo only ever wanted to play for the Knicks. He didn’t want to play with the Nuggets, he didn’t want to end up on the Lakers, and he sure as shit didn’t want to agree to a trade to the Nets. Honestly, why would Carmelo agree to play in New Jersey with Brook Lopez and a bunch of D-Leaguers? Unless of course he was really interested in having Lopez teach him all about Anime and how to awkwardly talk to girls. (I enjoy conceptualizing Brook Lopez as a gigantic child, kind of like Tom Hanks from Big)

All the Knicks had to do was wait the Nuggets out. They should have stood strong, and told the Nuggets that if they weren’t willing to trade them Carmelo now, they could just wait until the off season and sign Carmelo without losing anything. Yes, I am aware that Carmelo stood to lose a lot of money if he signed as a free agent under the soon to be renegotiated collective bargaining agreement, and that he could only keep his max contract by getting the Nuggets to agree to a trade. Still, this does not mean that the Nuggets had any kind of leverage over the Knicks.

“If you don’t give us what we want for Carmelo, we will just let him join your team as a free agent next summer, but we will totally dick him out of 15 million dollars first, BITCHES!” is not an effective bargaining strategy.

Unless of course you are bargaining with the Knicks, who apparently believed that the Nuggets were willing to lose Carmelo without getting jack squat in return out of sheer spite.

If the Knicks had just been patient, the Nuggets would have traded Carmelo for whatever they could get, because getting something is a hell of a lot better than getting nothing at all and whatever righteous satisfaction may have come from fucking with Carmelo’s money.

The Nuggets handled this whole situation rather brilliantly as they were A) Able to convince the Knicks that there were other possible trade destinations for Carmelo, and B) Able to convince Carmelo that they were willing to not trade him at all, taking him and the rest of the franchise down in a fiery crash.

In the end Carmelo seemed to panic just as badly as the Knicks did. Why else would he agree to meet with Nets ownership this past weekend, or make statements about “being screwed” if he didn’t get his extension. If he had just stayed calm, and made it very clear that he would only play for the Knicks, he’d be playing with much better teammates right now.

Now, I’m not saying that this was a “bad” trade for the Knicks. It’s never a bad thing to have two superstars on your team, and they are now set up pretty nicely to make a run at Chris Paul or Deron Willias in 2012. I’m just saying that it could have been a much better trade if the Knicks, and Carmelo, had just had enough balls to call the Nuggets’ bluff.

Instead, the Nuggets turned what should have been Wilson Chandler, Eddy Curry, and some draft picks into a pretty solid cache of assets--assets that could still belong to the Knicks right now.

There really isn’t anything that the Nuggets should have done differently. Well, there is one thing. They should have benched Carmelo at the start of the season, played him 3 minutes a game, and hired Joaquin Phoenix to do this right in his face every time he sat down on the bench. That would have been pretty cool.

You're Going to Hate Blake Griffin

Everyone is officially head over heels in love with Blake Griffin, just as they God damn well should be. I will be the first one to admit that I have wasted what probably amounts to hours watching Youtube videos of Blake Griffin dunking on everybody’s faces. Why do I do this? Because it makes me feel all tingly in my pants, that’s why. In fact, just writing this is getting me kind of excited, which is making my roommate kind of uncomfortable.

Anyway, although I am enjoying my Blake Boners for the moment, they also make me very afraid for what the future holds. The thing is, I know that someday the national love fest surrounding Griffin is going to come to a screeching halt.

I know that one day a lot of people are going to hate Blake Griffin. How can I say this with such confidence? Because we have already seen it happen dozens of times over.

The reason that we all love Blake Griffin so much right now is because we care about him only for what he does on the court, which is undeniably beautiful and raw and thunderous. Eventually, however, we are going to get used to watching him do his “NBA Jam” routine on a nightly basis, and then he will become just another basketball player.

Deadspin’s Barry Petchesky already touched on the inevitability of this normalization back in January. Petchesky wrote:

“Titles are won after that changeover from myth to superstar. The player figures out what he has in himself, and only then can he harness it into some kind of kinetic energy. It's not nearly as romantic as potential energy.”

Petchesky knows that someday Griffin is going to cease to be the un-molded ball of ferocious energy that we so enjoy him as now; that some day he is going to solidify into a rigid, definable superstar and the romance surrounding him will die.

What I am concerned about is the part that comes after this solidification. Even when we stop being so enamored with Griffin’s game, we are still going to have to find something to say about him on a daily basis. This will lead us to begin talking about Blake Griffin as a person, and we aren’t going to like what we find.

We’ve been through this with oh so many superstars that have come before Griffin.

Not too long ago, people were just as in love with Kobe Bryant, Allen Iverson, Kevin Garnett and Lebron James as they are now with Blake Griffin. Bryant was loved for his merciless scoring ability, Iverson for his fast twitch crossover that could make Michael Jordan look stupid, Garnett for his unyielding passion and intensity, and LeBron for his inability to hide how much fun he was having on the basketball court.

We loved all of these guys simply because they were doing things on the court that we had never really seen before, and that was all we needed.

But after awhile things became routine, and we started searching for things other than their games to talk about. Soon it wasn’t enough just to talk about them as players, it became necessary to start talking about them as people.

Is Kobe Bryant actually a selfish, maniacal asshole?

Is Allen Iverson actually a disrespectful thug?

Is LeBron James actually an arrogant, soulless shithead?

Is Kevin Garnett actually a mean spirited bully?

Granted, each of these guys did things that greatly exacerbated people’s willingness to turn on them, but it seems as if we were doomed to start hating them no matter what we found out to be true about them as people, because as people they could never live up to the perfection that they represented as players. No one on Earth possibly could.

It’s not hard to believe in this inevitability when you consider that LeBron James is probably the most loathed of this group at the moment, even though all he did was exercise his right as a free agent; whereas Kobe Bryant was accused of rape after putting his dick into a place where he was specifically told not to.

In what twisted moral universe are those two offenses deserving of equal amounts of hatred? One in which hatred is all that’s left to keep us entertained.

Someday, fairly or unfairly, something unlikable about Blake Griffin is going to come to the light, and we will all latch on to it for no other reason than we need something to talk about. Maybe he’ll get spotted in a night club with Lindsay Lohan, and we’ll all begin questioning his judgment. Or maybe he’ll get spotted corpse-fucking a dead dolphin on a secluded Japanese coast line, and we’ll all begin to wonder if he’s really got the heart of champion. No one can say for sure.

What I can say for sure is that one day you are very likely going to find yourself hating Blake Griffin. Someday you are going to be watching him soar through the air, poised to convert yet another face melting alley oop; and instead of yelping with excitement, you’re going to mutter something like, “Fuck that guy, he’s an asshole.”

So do yourself a favor, and enjoy him while you can.