2008-2009 NBA Preview/ Hip Hop Roll Call

TNT or ESPN will show a clip of some 6'8" behemoth, in Armani, walking down a tunnel, his head bobbing to the bass of his headphones, and all of us NBA fans know what question the white bread announcer will ask (by the way I'm Wonderbread) to one of their black counterparts in the studio with them, "is it true that all ballers want to be rappers and that all rappers want to be ballers?" We never really get an answer. We just get some mumbled version of "people do what they do best," which, in my mind, sounds a lot like "how come no one asks Tom Tolbert or the Barry brothers if all athletes want to be rockers and if all rockers want to be athletes," but enough about the racial dynamics of sports commentary. Let's assume that all basketball players do want to be rappers. What rappers would they be? Is the difference between a rapper and an emcee the equivalent of an all-star with no ring and an NBA champion? And will any of this actually lead to predicting this year's NBA season? I don't know, but it's the top of the hour; and we're about to start the NBA roll call portion of our show.

What does Eminem do these days? I guess the better question is what does Vince Carter do these days? If Vince Carter were a rapper, then he'd probably be Eminem. VC caught the world's attention with a trivial dunk contest. Eminem caught the world's attention with trivial music videos. Then both showed flashes of greatness. Now both seem to be on hiatus, only Em actually is. VC still shows up for work, but it's like when Em would show up to be on D12 songs. Em supposedly has an album due out in the next year. The Carolina fan in me still hopes that VC will avoid season ending thigh bruises and his fear of being aggressive. I'm learning to live with disappointment, as are the New Jersey Nets.

If Dwight Howard was transformed into a rapper at this point in his career, he'd be one of the Fat Boys. He's comical. He's entertaining, but what he's doing right now doesn't really mean much in terms of longevity. If he ever does get it, then he could be the Busta Rhymes of the hardwood, which would be insane. No one really cares what Busta says when he's on the mic; we're all too busy watching him rap with every muscle in his body. His sinew has a better delivery than most. If Howard ever learns to pass out of the double team and develop just one consistent back to the basket move, then he truly will be the League's Superman. If that doesn't happen, then we can all still enjoy watching him beatbox on Krush Groove.

Black Thought of The Roots is a great live emcee. He can freestyle with anyone, which might be his only weakness. His energy in concert is amazing. He feeds off of his audience and plays to them. A surprising number of rappers do not do this at all. Black Thought lives for it, as does his band, but when he's in the studio, the energy of a live concert isn't there; and the occasional weak line is left exposed; like a paper cut in the ocean. The cut is insignificant, but one still knows it's there. Also, a paper cut will not keep one from swimming in the ocean, just as one or two bad lines is not going to keep a lover of music from The Roots. My career advice to Black Thought is to never leave his band. He needs them, and they need him. Unfortunately, Baron Davis left his band. His strength is freestyling in the open court. His energy comes from the live crowds of Oakland, CA, and he even had a ?uestlove in Don Nelson, to produce layers and layers of beats. Black Thought will never leave The Roots, and Baron Davis should never have left the Warriors. Hopefully, he at least keeps Black Thought's beard, even if he lacks Thought's wisdom.

The following question is rhetorical, but I'll answer it for those who are unfamiliar with "The Zulu Nation." Who is Afrika Bambaata? Afika Bambaataa is Greg Oden. I'm really excited for Portland's transformation into "Planet Rock."

People tell me Chris Paul is the new Jason Kidd. Jason Kidd always had a ceiling, and it was made out of bricks, that ceiling collapsed on the Dallas Mavericks last season. Chris Paul has no ceiling. The only advantage Kidd has over Paul is as a rebounder, but when one thinks about it, last year's playoffs was not a passing of the torch, but a seizing of the torch. Paul was Promethean. He was Lupe Fiasco, the only emcee who takes Greek mythology and mixes it effortlessly with wisdom and knowledge, as opposed to just cleverness, with scenes from America's streets. Lupe deals with motifs, symbolism, and universal themes, while other rappers deal only in the poverty of metaphors. He draws from an ocean. They draw from a well, and his flow is so smooth the audience thinks they're wishing in the Atlantic. Pennies often appear shinier than sea shells, which explains why people try and compare Lupe to Q-Tip, but it doesn't make sense. Sea shells hold the sound of waves, and in the sound of waves is the sound of evolution through the motion of God's hand. Do not compare pennies to sea shells. Do not compare Q-Tip to Lupe. Do not compare Jason Kidd to Chris Paul. The Apostle Paul taught me that much against the Spurs last year. Still, if you ask me "can [you] kick it?" I'll always say, "yes, you can."

Gilbert Arenas is eccentric. He's possibly a genius. He's definitely fragile, and he's out for at least the first month; but whether he's on the court, off the court, blogging, or building pools, we can't take our eyes off of Agent Zero. He's like D'Angelo in the "How Does it Feel?" video. When that video came out, no one could take their eyes off the r and b singer. It didn't make a difference if one was a woman, a straight man, or a gay man, one would watch that video with one of the deadly sins on the brain. That video also caused D'Angelo to become a drunken recluse, worried that people saw him only for his 6-pack (Is D'Angelo the Joe Six Pack Palin keeps referring to?) and not for his music. I'm beginning to wonder if Gilbert Arenas feels the same way, that Gilbert no longer exists and all there is to him now is Agent Zero.

Because Arenas' knee refuses to be healthy, the Wizards' only hope once again is Antawn Jamison. He's the J Dilla of basketball. He produces wins for whoever he plays and gets none of the credit, and when he retires people will miss him without even knowing it. I know it's been over a year, but rest in peace, J.

If Jamison is J Dilla, then Caron Butler is Pharaoh Monch, a man who when guest starring on other people's songs always seems more impressive than the person he's guest starring for. Caron Butler is more impressive in person than he is on TV, and secretly, he's probably the best leading man on the Wizards' roster, with or without D'Angelo. If you have not heard Pharaoh's album Desire , then you're missing out on one of the best hip hop albums of the last few years, much of it produced by J Dilla.

Lebron James will be highly upset with this paragraph because this sentence is the only one in the paragraph that's about him. Jay-Z retires. Jay-Z unretires, and even when he is retired, he still finds his way onto songs. His best songs and albums are behind him. There will (probably) be no more Reasonable Doubt's, Hard Knock Life's, or Blueprint's. Still, the backside of American Gangster does have its moments, especially with songs like "Ignorance" and "Say Hello." Still, one has to listen to the frontside and songs like "Hello, Brooklyn" before the Roc Boyz come into the building, and that's where Shaquille O'Neal's career stands now. When he was in L.A., he was getting songs from Kanye, like "IZZO H.O.V.A.," but now when Shaq wants to stay relevant with younger audiences, we get songs like "Hello, Brooklyn," which in a strange way, sets up the next paragraph of this article beautifully.

If Shaq is the Jay-Z in "Hello, Brooklyn," then Steve Nash is the song's Lil' Wayne. TV ratings, jersey sales, highlights, the number of people in the stands, and MVP trophies, when one is not the best player in the league, do not win championships, and selling the most records in a day does not make one the game's best emcee. It might not even make one an emcee, but it does make for entertainment; and Steve Nash has always been entertaining and unconventional. I came close to comparing Steve Nash and Amare Stoudamire to Andre 3000 and Big Boi, but then I remembered that Outkast redefined the sound of hip hop. The D'Antoni small ball revolution ended last year with the Shaq trade, and the closest Nash and Amare came to popping champagne was Lil' Wayne and Birdman's song "Poppin' Bottles." Yes, Amare, you are Birdman.

I don't mean any of these insults as insults. What I'm trying to say is that Nash and Amare have yet to max out on their abilities because both still refuse to play defense and neither one seems able to decide who should carry whom down the stretch. It's like they're drinking sizzurp and trying to rap, but instead of songs, we get a collection of amusing punch lines. The Suns have been clever, but they haven't been wise. Terry Porter will try and change that, but old habits are hard to break, especially if the ones being asked to break their habits view those same habits as reasons for their success.

Tracy McGrady is 50 Cent. In the League's purse of superstars, he's loose change. He's never been out of the first round, just as 50 Cent's music has never been out of the club. Remember when 50 Cent first appeared. He was possibly the most hyped rapper of all time. Dr. Dre discovered Eminem, and Eminem discovered 50 Cent, and then we got lines like "It's your birthday." Well, McGrady, you are VC's cousin, and he is the NBA's Eminem; so naturally, you are what one receives when they overpay for a piece of merchandise, like a certain rapper's CD for example. Anyway, what would happen if 50 ever did come out of the club? This year, in Houston, we may find out.

This next one will be quick. Carmello Anthony is dubbed Coolio. He had a one hit wonder at Syracuse that was as memorable as "Gangsta's Paradise" and now everyone is just kind of waiting for whatever happens to be next.

If any team in the NBA can live up to being the Wu-Tang Clan, then it has to be the Detroit Pistons. They are all better collectively than a part. Chauncey Billups is the Rza. Rasheed is Method Man. Ben Wallace was O.D.B. Now, they're both resting in peace, one metaphorically and one physically. God, bless them both, and the rest are up for debate. Plus, despite sticking around for as long as the Pistons have, nothing they've done since '04 and '05 has matched those campaigns, just as nothing from the Wu has matched Enter the Wu (36 Chambers) or Wu-Tang Forever.

Because Shaq is Jay-Z, the obvious choice for Tim Duncan would appear to be Nas. Jay-Z and Nas battled each other for the throne after both Pac and Biggie were taken from this world. Shaq and Duncan battled the last decade for supremacy in the NBA, following the breakup of Jordan and Pippen's Bulls. Jay-Z is flashier than Nas, but Nas' straightforward stories always carry the same weight as Jay-Z's word play. At times, Nas' cold imagery even makes all of Jay-Z's puns feel inadequate for describing how the world actually is. Of course, the puns show how fake the world can be. No one can ever definitively argue who is the better emcee of these two, just as one will never be able to settle the debate of who is greater between Shaq and Duncan, even the ring count is a draw.

But even with everything suggesting that Tim Duncan is Nas, there's a better fit. Tim Duncan is Rakim. Rakim's lyrics are always wound tightly around precise rhymes. Duncan's game is precise. He cuts at his opponents with an exacto knife. His game is fundamental, meaning others are always borrowing from his game, whether they admit it or not, just as emcees borrow lines from Rakim: "nothin' but sweat inside my hand," "bless the mic with the gods," and "that's 27 emcee's ate up at the same time." Duncan even has a pair of DJ's, in Manu Ginobili and Tony Parker, that cut records to the basket like they were Eric B.

The last reason for why Duncan is Rakim. Duncan and the Spurs are old. Rakim and Eric B's Paid in Full came out in 1987, that's twenty-one years ago. 21 is Duncan's number.

Still, the best emcee I've ever seen live is Rakim at 2007's Rock the Bells concert. Some things get better with age. Unfortunately, the Spurs play basketball.

The Utah Jazz are the NBA's version of The Beastie Boys. They're good, and no one wants to admit it. Of course, it's always confusing as to whether they're good because of their skills or because of their uniqueness. The Jazz have both. Deron Williams and Carlos Boozer are the skills, and the rest of the team is unique because of their depth and guys like Kirilenko and Okur, who do a lot of things well, but nothing great--the conundrum of The Beastie Boys' lyrical abilities. Also, let's be honest with ourselves; we listen to The Beastie Boys because of the beats. Jerry Sloan is the Dust Brothers, and watching him coach is like listening to Paul's Boutique.

Kanye West started off as a producer. He began emceeing as an understudy to Jay-Z and Talib Kweli. Now, whether deserved or not, he's considered one of the greatest emcee's ever. Man, the world loves to hyperbolize. Anyway, who else could be Kanye but Kobe Bryant? It's amazing the novas of their egos have not collapsed and created two black holes that divide the sun in half. Still, whether or not one thinks Kanye's music is bubble gum pop or not, one can't stop listening to it, and love him or hate him for it, that is what a musician tries to accomplish, making Kanye successful no matter how one judges success.
The strength of Kanye's beats is almost always the sample: Ray Charles, Otis Redding, Curtis Mayfield, etc. Kobe is a sample of MJ, whether he intended to be or not.

Kobe has always been torn apart by his drive for individual success versus his drive for team success. On College Dropout, Kanye followed up the song "Jesus Walks" and "Never Let Me Down" with "Get 'Em High" and his "Workout Plan," showcasing the fine line Kanye tip toes between the religious and the secular. In fact, Kanye and Kobe may very well be two different people sharing one conscience.

Expect Kobe to lead the Lakers back to the Finals, even if every expert attempts to explain themselves out of the obvious, and expect Kanye to go multi-platinum on his next twelve albums, which will be titled Grad School and lastly Retirement.

The Boston Celtics have a triumvirate of emcees: Kevin Garnett, Ray Allen, and Paul Pierce. Kevin Garnett came out of the box strong and consistent, from Can I Borrow a Dollar? to One Day It'll All Make Sense, and even when he kind of let the critics down, with Electric Circus, he still had everyone's respect. Right now, KG is enjoying the fruits that Be and Finding Forever brought him, but the basketball world highly anticipates his release of Universal Mind Control. A second ring for KG will cause people to universally rethink and rewrite this decade in basketball history. A second ring by KG allows Common to enter the Nas and Jay-Z debate.

Meanwhile, Paul Pierce is Talib Kweli. At times, he appears to be the best at what he does, but then one remembers that he never really could get his franchise over the hump by himself, just as commercial success is always out of reach for Kweli, no matter how dedicated to him his fan base is. Ray Allen is Mos Def, always underrated, always overlooked, and always more than he appears to be. Mos Def acts. Ray Allen acts. Mos Def hosts DefJam Poetry. Ray Allen paints (I think). These guys were always solid a part, but together it's like they've learned to breathe again--it's "Respiration."

Lebron James is the last player on this list, not because I think 2009 will see him become a champion, but because if he maxes out on his potential, then he is the type of player that will inspire other generations. He is what anthropologists and archaeologists go digging for when trying to prove evolution. He's the asphalt, the sidewalks, the corners, the metal fences, the bottles of spray paint, the break beats, and addicts that inspire emcees. Lebron is a time warp. If he ever reaches his potential, then we will see what Naismith saw when he nailed a peach basket to a pole, and he will hear what Kool Herc heard when he first listened to a turntable. Those sights and those sounds are the future, and that's what the present is for--"The once and future king." I hear they call him James, and potential is waiting for its throne, and as he walks down the tunnel, head bobbing to the bass, he's not dreaming of being an emcee--he's dreaming new worlds.