2 A.M. Two-Fer? Era-ta? I'm not sure what this. Finals got me spun, I guess. This comes as a preview for the Game 2 that has already transpired (unless what we did today was an incredible exercise in post-modernity), but it holds even more value after Sunday's game. It's a vid discussing Brendan Malone and the Magic's strategy at containing Kobe. Malone is the architect of the infamous "Jordan Rules," used by the Pistons in the late 80s. "The Jordan Rules" were a trademark of the Bad Boys Pistons, and as such stood as a highlight of rough, physical play.
If you saw Game 1 of the NBA Finals, you might be scratching your head a bit at this connection. If you watched Game 2, however, you might find some creedence in what's coming to be known as "The Kobe Rules." Malone makes the good point that in Game 1, it wasn't so much about strategy as it was about execution. Kobe's a little bit of a different animal when compared to MJ or even Lebron. (Last round we saw "The Lebron Rules" take effect, so I'm assuming we'll come to call any strategy geared on stopping a star by similar moniker). Both MJ and Lebron, in my humble opinion, bear the traditional marks of unconscious greatness. (by the way, Simmons totally stole my Robin Williams line for Lebron in his last mailbag) Kobe, on the other hand, is an irresistible convergence of such greatness and an almost meta-cognitive level of care given to his game. It's been said that you can't really prepare for Kobe, as he resists tendencies. Thus, one might expect "The Kobe Rules" to be a bit less effective.
How effective is this Ruler-By-Which-We-Measure-Our-Defense strategy anyway? How long did the Pistons really rule over MJ's playground? Ah, I don't really care. What I care about is what the game Sunday looked like. That Pistons team from the 80s was a trendsetter in that it led to physical teams like the 90s' Knicks. The Lakers' and Magic's run to the finals was nowhere near physicality free. Even at our happy go lucky little site here, we chronicled several instances of physical tension come somewhat to fruition. But in Game 1 and much of Game 2, this kind of "chippy" play has been conspicuously absent.
As we live blogged this game, we were consistently lulled away from our ABC feeds, even though this game was fairly close throughout. Sure, the offense was pretty anemic, but what I really think is going on here is the sad fact that these two teams don't care about each other. And, dynamic as the moving parts here are, we as fans just don't care either. It's intriguing on an intellectual level to see who wins between these two teams, but it's almost like a hypothetical question. It's almost as if we have two leagues and you get to see in an exhibition series who of the two leagues' champions would win. Wait...oh, that's my point. Either the conference set up in the NBA needs to be cleared up or else the playoffs need to be designed differently. Too often, the NBA Finals is barely even the second most important series in any given playoffs. And we can see it in the lack of intensity between these two teams.
I'll give it a few games to see if this can develop into something better. Rivalries, or even their semblance, can only occur over a good number of close contests. In the unlikely event that these two teams meet again next year in the finals, or even if this series goes six or seven games, we could see some much needed emotional gravitas/intensity. So here's hoping. In the mean time, I'll continue to bask in the glow of Lakers victories (while actually rooting for Orlando in real time; best of both worlds, eh?) and wait for next season like Cavs fans. There's something to be said about the regular season vs. this gradual winnowing down.
Okay, that last Era-ta was a bit weak, so let’s make this more of a journey. Pathways, as it were. Last week I was reading about great military leaders, and especially those Romans of eternal renown. Tangentially, I got to reading and consequently thinking (that’s why we read, write, right?) about the importance homoeroticism has played throughout history, or at least the largeness of its presence. What with the PC war (that’s politically correct, not vs. Mac) and homophobia and homophobia-phobia (which, by the way, is really silly when you break into the realm of etymology and see that homophobia means fear of sameness, which is actually good, but we’ve taken and made what?), we have willfully blinded ourselves to the underlying presence of homoeroticism in popular culture. Let me amend that. We’ve blinded ourselves to the presence of underlying homoeroticism in heterocentric popular culture.
What I mean is, I’m not talking about guys kissing guys as a gross out gag in the American Pie series (or a dance off in a night club followed by assless chaps). I’m talking about the relationship Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn have in Wedding Crashers (thank one of my history profs for pointing that one out). I’m talking about the weird love triangle between Harry Potter, his buddy Ron, and whoever that other person is always following them around. Be more sportsy, Sean. I know. I’m talking about professional wrestling, men slathered up to tussle with each other in skimpy outfits. I’m talking about the banter and towel snapping that any young man who’s been on an athletic team has been witness to. I’m talking about the man crushes we sports fans harbor and condone. And that makes them sound like criminals, like we’re merely tolerating these sentiments. Which I guess is my point. They shouldn’t be simply put up with; they should be celebrated!
Look, Shoals pointed out the latent homoerotic potential in fan-hood’s embrace of Dwight Howard. Watching the Cavs-Magic series and possibly our two most heralded physical specimens, with Roman emperors on my mind, I remembered this suggestion, and thought I’d expand a bit upon it. I want to use something else I watched on tv recently as a framework. I want to look at Good Will Hunting. Bear with me.
I’m not saying the movie is about homosexuality at all, so don’t get all in a huff. And I’m not saying the relationship Will and Sean was at all inappropriate. But if you weren’t made uncomfortable by that scene where Robin Williams pushes Matt Damon a bit too far, and it leads to a positive outpouring of emotion, if you didn’t think Williams was a bit too close for comfort, then you’re not human. And I think that’s part of the point of that scene, to show that people who care about you will go the extra step for you, even if it’s uncomfortable. But, digression. What I really want to use here is the tension that is built up towards eruption in this scene, because a good deal of that tension is homoerotic.
Okay, let’s get the players on this little stage I’ve set. Let’s look at Lebron as the Matt Damon figure. Endless potential. Perhaps untapped. And then you’ve got Kobe, who’s obviously the Ben Affleck character. Not nearly as gifted as Damon (in the movie or out of it), and notable for the scene where he makes it painfully obvious. Kobe and Lebron’s Olympic experience is like that scene. Can’t you just see it in Kobe’s actions, in his eyes, the constant, quiet message, the reminder that he worked to get where he is. The silent accusation (which Affleck makes un-silent) that says I would give my left nut to be able to do what you do. I would make so much out of it. I’m waiting for the day you just take off. You owe it to me.
This ties in with the homoerotic undertone, but first the other characters. Dwight must be the Casey Affleck character. A seeming bit player, he seems just glad to be there. In that last scene, he runs up gleefully to take Damon's place, and eventually he lands a few roles showing him to be just as talented as Damon, if not more so. (Gone Baby Gone, and even The Assassination of Jesse James, and let the record show that Jesse James was the role that saw Brad Pitt strike out for recognition as a solid actor, even reach towards greatness. In this, maybe he's like Kobe - see below - but for the record, I'm not buying it. I thoroughly enjoyed young Brad Pitt, when the thoughts he spooled out on screen were raw and seemingly uncut. Pre-The Mexican stuff, for sure. But he's trying too hard now. It lacks the effortlessness that true greatness holds. He'll never be able to get inside me and shake me up like Sean Penn. Look at Johnny Depp, or even Tom Cruise. Their performaces always show one thought, intense, a firebrand, and then the execute it again and again, perfectly. This you could see in Pitt's 12 Monkeys or Fight Club, but he's thinking too much now. It's a strategy that I think works for Russell Crowe, but Pitt's having a hard time pulling it off. Meryl Streep does it well too.) And then I guess Wade is that other guy, but what’s the point of this? It’s not to look at dispositional relationships. Who needs analogies for that? Rather, it’s to look at projections. Thus, it’s unimportant to call Jordan the math guy and Magic the Robin Williams character, though you could. You’d almost like to say it’s inappropriate to do so, but that’d be missing the point of this whole thought.
Look, there’s that scene. Damon’s in bed with Minnie Driver, and he doesn’t want to let her meet his boys. What’s that uneasiness? Yeah, it’s about him being closed off and uncomfortable with letting her into his world. But it’s also about the dissonance between a male-female relationship, the accepting disconnect that occurs there, and the easy, we all come from one-and-the-same existential cloth (that’s Spinoza, if you want to educate yourself) fraternity of male youthfulness. Even when Damon’s in bed with her, he’s still got his boys right there. If anything, the movie’s about stepping out of your comfort zones (but not as simple as that), realizing your potential and applying it (but not as trite as that), and allowing yourself to do the things that really matter to you (there you go, you could’ve thrown a “but most importantly on there”, keep it going), allowing yourself to open up to the world and be vulnerable and be hurt, allowing yourself to be seen hurting. It’s about differentiating between success and happiness, and knowing what to hold on to. It’s about going out on a limb, even though the limb might snap. Because people, it’s all about that limb. Without it, you’re just a trunk, and how sad is that?
But back to basketball. You could say what limb does Lebron have yet to go out on? But you’d be missing the moment. The greatness of right now, the thing people wear shirts to witness, is the phenomenal extent to which Lebron’s potential potentially reaches. Sobering thought, though. I think it’s almost capped. Which is fine. It’s not to say ten more years of this would be a let down by any reach of the mind. But I think, if something doesn’t change, Lebron’s legacy loses a bit of the breathless quality with which it is currently imbued. See, there’s a reason Michael Jordan will always be regarded as the best athlete ever. And there’s a reason Muhammad Ali is right up there with him. They were performers. They understood the dual nature of modern sports. Yes, it’s about athletic ability and accomplishment. But it’s also entertainment. Some people, like Shaq and, to a lesser extent, Kobe seem too ably aware of this. They cater to the lime light. And sometimes it results in brilliant moments of honesty (Shaq) or at least a burgeoning openness that we seem to be gifted with (the other guy). But it doesn’t necessarily equate to greatness. It’s why Magic and Kareem, I think, were so great at showtime. They were innate performers, albeit on opposite ends of the loquacious-energy spectrum. But they didn’t have to think about it. The big moment was the big moment. Bang! They hit you with it right between the eyes. Unconscious. (Them or you, you’re not sure). In the same line of thinking, it’s why I will always remember the lob dunk over the Jail Blazers as the crowning achievement of that Lakers three-peat team. Shaq ran down the court, too ecstatic to pose, and sought out the man responsible for his glee. They embraced. End scene. (and I think in that pairing, Shaq is the Matt Damon character. The three championships were really like Kobe saying, “It’s not your fault,” over and over again, forgiving Shaq for his less than workmanlike work-ethic. Too bad the hug came too early. Damn that enthusiasm, Diesel.
Anyway, I’ve digressed. The crowning support (can that which holds up also exist as any kind of zenith?) in my idea structure is Jordan’s last shot. Supreme showmanship. And yet, not calculated as showmanship. Calculated as greatness. Every moment of MJ’s reign of terror was an instance of him saying, “You WILL remember me for this. And this. And this.” With too many other athletes, it’s too often, “What will you think of this? What will you think of this? What will you think of this?”
It’s an opening up and a buckling down all in the same, fluid movement. Once Lebron learns it, learns to dictate the moment into greatness, then he’ll have achieved his true potential. He’s too focused on the business side right now. I’ve said that before, and I still really hope that dissipates soon. Maybe he has to lose again to learn. Hungry in a different way. After game 2, I thought maybe he’s already learnt, and it’s just waiting to come to fruition. After tonight, it looks like he’s still not quite there (don’t get me wrong, amazing performance, but still lacking something).
Perhaps part of it, too, is that it’s hard to be unconscious when you have to be aware of the rest of your team. Jordan could trust that his shooters were where he needed them to be. And he had Pippen to do all the things that required actual cogitation. Kobe has Pau, and of course he was the thinking man to Shaq’s juggernaut swath of early 2000s greatness. I almost think Kobe is too unconscious right now. Like he’s spent so many hours pre-programming himself that he’s not in full control of which attack sequences play out when. With him it’s hard to tell if he’s the example of greatness gone over the greatness line to approach parody, or if he’s the ultimate thinker, and he’s simply taught himself to think unconsciousness.
Lebron is often compared to a linebacker, but this season he’s looked more and more like a quarterback out there. He’s perpetually barking orders at his teammates, and they love him for it because he’s probably never wrong. I never got it before, but those pre-game rituals were like a post-touchdown celebration. And they showed a type of unconsciousness that I thought had signaled Lebron’s imminent eminence. But we haven’t seen those so much now, have we?
I think this Orlando series has really proved that Lebron has another step to take. And, in retrospect, I think Dwight has shown himself to be truly unconscious, and thus able to step into greatness almost more seamlessly (of course, James is trying to get himself a new cloth). The Moses comparisons came right away. There’s been no looking back and there’s been no hamstringing at the expense of what MIGHT BE there. No, Dwight’s here and now. He’s so goofy, so unrestrained. How did I not see this sooner? Oh man, whoever comes out of the West is in trouble.
The above video cites a poll of 190 NBA players asked which other player they would least like to have as a team-mate. In my mind, that's a bit of cherry-picking, but what's done (justifiable causality or not) is done. The reason the poll is mentioned is its relevance for Starbury, who topped the list by receiving 22 percent of the vote. Ron Artest finished second with 9 percent of the vote. The video is part 2 of a rather level-headed interview with Stephon. You gotta admire an athlete who can come right out and say dreaded words like, "sexual harassment case" and "going to the psychiatrist." We saw Artest have a few pretty successful (if consistently confounding) days with the press as Houston beat the Portland Trailblazers. Today, Stephon was a key contributor - contributor, not star mind you - in the Celtics' defeat of the Chicago Bulls. Throughout the epic seven game series, Marbury was a non-story. Less important than the various, trifling ailments that couldn't seem to keep Rondo down but kept cropping up. Anyway, being a non-story is a positive for Marbury's career resuscitation, and I just wanted to take a moment to appreciate the first round windfall seen in the fates of a few misfits who seemed poised to go down for infamy not play in the annals of NBA history.
And play, if anyone doubts it, is what this is all about. It's what holds together a smile in the face of so many dour, post-modern re-cognizances, posting-up one's contemporary beneath the (broken?) glass of tomorrow. Play is important, and personality is the key that turns the monolithic, mono-mythic lock of the clean cut, the pre-packaged, the regrettably preened upon and postured post-Jordan presences. And yes, this is all just some convoluted way to nod pre-conceived notions on, giving them their re: cognizant due. Id est. Yes, Jordan is the last great modern and Finnegan's Wake clearly presaged the D.C. come back. And yes, it's all fractured and hard to grasp and cascading light through everything. But yes, the misfit represents the necessary stance against consuming kitsch. And yes, the misfit ranges the boundaries and breaks down the ribbed gates either with mirth or with malice. And yes, these outskirts are in turn bound on one side by the meteoric rise and on the other by the precipitous plummet.
And, yes. This is all just to say, we see. This is all just to recognize the effective harnessing of these borderlands into streaming channels not, as The Artest so somethingly put it, to the promised land, but rather to that which was never promised but ever earned. Ron, Birdman, Stephon, welcome to the second round.
In sporadically regular installments, OtB brings you a long-form joint re: NBA and its ontological extension unto all of sport. Epochrypha: writings or statements of questionable authorship or authenticity, but always impassioned and always with an eye on the times we're spectating in. Enjoy.
I've taken today off in order to complete some grad school writing, but first I have to get some of these thoughts off my chest, where they breed. Yesterday, though, at the day job, I went over this quote with my students: "All paradises, all utopias are designed by who is not there, by the people who are not allowed in." -Toni Morrison, 1998
Now, this quote is obviously sardonic and offers a biting critique of those who wave flaming swords at the entrance to Eden (not quite as entrancing as the Miles Davis impersonation the archangel Gabriel better be playing if I ever make it to heaven, eh? but it’s a nice story sandwiched between two gates). Id est white-separatists. And I appreciate it on that level. At the same time, I also think it can be important to keep the human actually outside the heavenly. For the sake and integrity of both. This has to do with advanced stats and reality, but first I have to drop a bit more lit on you.
Look, Borges wrote in "on exactitude in science" of a fake empire where the cartographers made maps so detailed they were exact replicas of the land they were meant to chart. Associated Content puts it nicely: "This made the perfect map perfectly useless." At the time, cartography was a much debated and controversial revelation, like phrenology or genetics. How far can you go before you're playing God? But, then, are we not also always inundations of representation? Does not our every word leer with symbolism, standing in place of that to which one is referring? As they say, the devil's in the details. And it can be seen in the much debated and controversial revelation of today: advanced statistics in basketball.
I've been thinking about this while watching the first throes of the post-season. I've been thinking about the purpose of the more and more telling statistical measures in comparison to the descriptions we put down in words. (For more on words vs. numbers and the conflation of such, see: gematria) Okay, they're both the attempt to recreate what goes on in sports. But, and this is not a rip on statistics, the one attempts to boil down games to their essential parts, while the other attempts to exult and extend that which has already been experienced. This was never more apparent than in the casual mention by some analyst that stats could one day replace the games completely. You take chaos theory and any other advanced mathematical conceptions you want to throw out there and, in theory, you could predict what the game would be without actually playing them. Of course, such a thing is said in jest. Still, it's chilling. A breather:
I’ve been wanting to run this (and I was reminded by that beer bottle throwing incident) for a hot second now. Why, because it somehow elegantly (praise Oldman, please) documents what goes on in a "train wreck." How people react to disaster, and how war stimulates an economy. Oldman's character Zorg posits that "life...comes from destruction, disorder, and chaos." He takes an empty glass (not half empty, mind you) and breaks it. He then goes on to explain that this simple act of destruction foments all kinds of heated and fecund sweepings of life. It's not Kierkegaard, I know, but bear with me. See, me? I think it's those invisible, never idle hands that make the world go round. They create the details. They type blog posts, just like this. Zorg? He's like the Kobes and Lebrons of this world (of basketball blogging), the Shaqs that break backboards and twitter about it, if you will. Me? I'm like the little Sasha Vujacic that sweeps up the broken glass.
Who else makes up these invisible hands? The statisticians. The John Hollingers and Kevin Peltons of the world. But also the guys who hand stats to EJ, Kenny, and Charles; the guys who look up the random stuff that comes up when Reggie and the Czar are letting hypotheticals fly. The 15 guys who work under Daryl Morey organizing databases. The ball boys. The guys who mop up the sweat when players fall to the hardwood, who keep the players from slipping and breaking their necks. The associated press writers who get no recognition for the recaps and releases they write. The guys who arrange highlight reels, in game. The cheerleaders. The fans. The stranger next to you who high fives you when D-Ho brings the hammer of Thor down. And Henry Abbot's right. It's not Dwight that makes the game for you (okay, it kinda is); it's the guy you don't even know, but with whom you form a strange kind of bond. It's that guy, that shared experience, which makes the games great.
This is why I think Outside the Boxscore and blogs like it are so important. And I know self-aggrandizing outfits generally dress up the navel gazing thing by looking around for people to whom they might glorify their navel, but look. My esteemed (by me, at least) colleagues don’t do this, and I’m not only talking about us. I’m talking about the entire blogosphere. I'm talking about every team that has ever retired a jersey for the fans. I'm talking about the invisibles as mentioned above. It’s not like I think fans or sports writers are in danger of losing this, of losing their subconscious understanding of the intangibles that make sports great; I just think it’s important to say it’s important once in awhile. I don't want us to get lost in the details, y'know? Furthermore, as the cartographers, we must continue to understand that every map has a legend. A parting note.
"As you enter positions of trust and power, dream a little before you think." - Toni Morrison
Sorry, again, for the lack of Epochrypha. I just don't have the cognitive stones, right now, even though I wanted to get up a bunch of stuff on the end of the NBA season. In lieu of that, a quick story. I heard this story from a friend about a friend of a friend. Dude stopped hanging out with his peeps (my friend's friends, but not my friend), so one day they went over to his crib. His mom, of course, goes "oh, [name removed for defamation purposes] is upstairs. Go on up." They bust into dude's room, and what do they find? He's playing Sim Life and has created all his friends and is hanging out with them, virtually in reality. Creepy, right? So of course I'm gonna bug when I find the above video. From what I can tell (and I'll admit, the details and purposes here are a bit murky to me), this is one of a whole bunch of videos someone made simulating what a NBA Playoffs party would be like. I honestly don't see any basketball going on, and no one seems to really be paying attention to the TV. So I'm thinking, either this is a chat room with animated avatars socializing under the guise of watching a virtual (and now imminent) NBA game and someone somehow recorded it, or this is some very complex simulacrum for the NBA postseason or basketball as life or pretending to watch basketball as a simulacrum of pretending to care about the people around you. Regardless, I find it just a bit chilling. Kind of like Japanese tourists coming to Hawai'i and eating in the Chinese restaurants.
Anyway, it gives me a good excuse to talk about this match up that I'm psyched for. Dallas-San Antonio. Why am I hyped for it? Because I'm a Lakers fan. And, while I don't think either of these teams is a significant threat to the Lakeshow, being a Lakers fan gives me certain predispositions. It's kind of like being a republican, in that the Lakers are one of the oldest traditions in the league, and it makes me instinctually root for the powers that have yet to turn into their graves. Meaning. I do hate the Spurs for all the titles they took away from L.A., but part of me thrills to see them presto-no-chango, still top 3 seedings-wise in the West. More importantly, however, I've been pulling for the Mavs all year long. Let's not forget that that '06 finals-run was no fluke. This is a team that was built to dethrone the then dominant Spurs. That's why I'm looking forward to this series. Need more juice for your jonesin'? Remember that Michael Finley, who hit the shot that put the Spurs at the 3-seed, was the first of the Dallas' "Big 3" to be shipped out. Think he doesn't remember that going in to this series?
More hype on playoff match-ups as the time nears, but for now a general video to get you pumped up. The Kanye West wed "Amazing" video is pretty much where amazing is happening today, but I want to take a look back. This intro to last year's finals is great in its seamless fusion of the old legends with the new. Just thought I'd throw up a little reminder of what these 16 teams are shooting for, rather than just point to what they're shooting at. One drop. One love.
