Number of the Day: Duncan turns 40

Or four thousand. Who knows? So it is written. So it shall be done. Or, as Duncan once said to Ramses, "Dungeons and Dragons was a much cooler game when it was real."

Number of the Day: Kyrie Irving's 57 against the Spurs

courtesy of gettyimages

Yeah. Still not over it.

Game Six of the Thunder and Spurs: Zeus Goes One on One with Cronos

In any driveway or gym, the human eye is a keen observer. Youth bears witness to technique and instinct without even knowing: dribbling, shooting, pump faking, jabstepping, slashing. The slashing is key. And with every successful drive to the basket, a young athlete learns that not only can he do what his father does but he can do it quicker--precision be damned--gashing his way through an invisible veil, making the realization of the moment feel as effortless as a bulldozer burning through spiderweb. Driveways are full of big gaping holes between the past and the present.

Are You Pop Enough?

The San Antonio Spurs, by way of their own choice or our neglect, have always been difficult not necessarily to appreciate but to love. I differentiate between these two terms because, after all, what is every San Antonio Spurs article other than a lament about how they are always underappreciated, overlooked, or devoid of style, which in essence means that they are actually appreciated, or at least respected. However, in merely respecting a team formalities abound and politeness chains the narrative to a collection of cliches: Tim Duncan is eternally fundamental, just one of the guys--always--and his coach and teammates love him dearly for it, but never the fans.

And, perhaps in the relationship between Popovich and Duncan is where much of the discomfort with the San Antonio Spurs begins. The relationship between a coach and his players, like all relationships where one party is the elder, boils down to a figurative representation between parent and child, father and son, mother and daughter, and the relationships between most NBA superstars and their coaches (as well as ownership) unfold like four-year old tantrums in the checkout line of the supermarket. Kobe Bryant pouts until he is given the right toys for a supporting cast, or Dwight Howard cries on command when he needs extra attention. NBA franchises, their owners, their GMs, and their coaches often treat basketball players as spoiled brats and then act surprised when players meet their expectations--the same can be said of many parents--but the San Antonio Spurs have never quite done so with Tim Duncan. And a large part of that difference is Gregg Popovich.

George Hill: Keeping Hope Alive

Now that the George Hill era in San Antonio has come and gone we can say that it went exactly as we expected. He never delivered a championship or even an All-Star performance, but then again, what twenty-sixth pick from IUPUI ever does? What does IUPUI even stand for? Did we ever even find a position for George Hill? And the true answers to these questions are the paradoxical existence that is a team at the end of a championship run: Being drafted at the end of the first round to a team like the Spurs comes with all the mystery and pressure of being asked to perform necromancy, when to be picked by any other team would merely be a free pass to let the dead rest. When a team is on the rise, it relies on picking the right cornerstones at the top of the draft, but the more a team rises into the League's higher altitudes, it requires late round picks to prolong its oxygen supply, and George Hill was the Spurs' last breath.

The Last Dragon

Shaq retiring is like some gargantuan myth has curled up and died, even if watching him play was already like watching bones gather dust.

NBA Preview Part 4: Southwest Division

NBA previews continue with the Western Conference and the Southwest Division.  With the Western Conference I will be using actual Over/Unders released by Vegas instead of last year's win total.

Dallas Mavericks
Last Year: 55-27, lost in first round
Additions: Tyson Chandler, Dominique Jones
Subtractions: Erick Dampier
O/U: 49.5

Basically the same team except they are one year older, and that is a important year as the entire starting lineup and 6th man Jason Terry will be on the wrong side of 30.  Nowitzki was as good as ever last year, and Haywood and Chandler in the middle along with Nowitzki is one the biggest frontcourts in the West. Jason Kidd is 37 and Caron Butler's play fell dramatically last year, so they need to play young guard Rodrigue Beaubois more as he is a player that could emerge as a dependable scorer alongside Nowitzki and who could replace their old guards sooner rather than later.  They are still a middle of the road playoff team who could make it out of the first round, but they won't win the West.  With the general improvement of the West, I will go slightly under.
Prediction: 48-34, 6th place, first round exit


San Antonio Spurs
Last Year: 50-32, lost in semifinal
Additions: Tiago Splitter, James Anderson
Subtractions: none of note
O/U: 50.5

The triumvirate of Duncan, Parker, and Ginobili are looking to make one more run before father time catches up to them. Last year many things went wrong, as Duncan had his worst numbers as a professional averaging 17 and 10, Parker missed 26 games due to injury, and Richard Jefferson was completely underwhelming as a new addition.  But they were still able to scrap together a great ending to the season, giving them promise that they have enough left in the tank to challenge the Lakers before the window closes.  With the additions of George Hill and Dejuan Blair last season, and Tiago Splitter and James Anderson this season, they have infused enough young talent around their Big Three that beyond injuries or a total collapse in production from one of them, they will build upon the end of the last season and finish high up in the standings in the West.  But  is Duncan too far removed from his prime to for them win a title?
Prediction: 55-27, 3rd place, semifinals exit


Houston Rockets:
Last Year: 42-40
Additions: Yao Ming, Brad Miller, Courtney Lee, Patrick Patterson
Subtractions: Trevor Ariza, David Anderson
O/U: 48.5

The Rockets overachieved last season, as their two highest paid players last season, Tracy McGrady and Yao Ming, never stepped on the floor, and the rest of roster of support players led the Rockets to a winning record.  They received career years from Aaron Brooks, Luis Scola, Kyle Lowry, and Chuck Hayes.  They also did this with their best offseason acquisition last year Trevor Ariza mostly a disappointment and then traded during the season.  They addressed their weakness in the frontcourt with the addition of Brad Miller, Patrick Patterson, and obviously the return of Yao Ming from foot surgeries.  He will be limited in minutes and in games played, but his size and scoring ability inside was missed.  If Yao can contribute close to his production before the injuries, and Kevin Martin can stay healthy and regain his form from a few years ago, then they will improve their win total and make the playoffs, as we saw last year what the floor is for this team.  But the over is too rich for my blood, so I will go slightly under.
Prediction: 47-35, 7th place, first round exit


4)  Memphis Grizzlies
Last Year: 40-42
Additions: Tony Allen, Xavier Henry, Grevis Vasquez
Subtractions: Ronnie Brewer
O/U: 38.5

Good turnaround last season for the Grizz, as they took advantage of something that most teams do not have, interior scoring. Its rare for NBA teams to have a big man who can reliably score in the post but can also hit the outside jumper, and the Grizz are blessed with two such players.  Zach Randolph had a career year and Marc Gasol has established himself as somebody other than Pau Gasol's brother.  They are great scorers inside and out, but they also are great offensive rebounders, and they were the best offensive rebounding team in the league.  Their defense is their biggest obstacle to becoming a playoff team as they were bottom 5 in points allowed.  They need Hasheem Thabeet to bounce back from a disastrous rookie season, and they need newly signed Tony Allen to provide some defensive intensity and have it rub off on Rudy Gay and OJ Mayo.  Mike Conley is a below average point guard who doesn't distribute well, and they don't have much of a bench behind the starters.  I will pick the over, but they won't take the next to step.
Prediction: 40-42


New Orleans Hornets
Last Year: 37-45
Additions: Jerryd Bayless, Willie Green, Trevor Ariza, Aaron Gray
Subtractions: Morris Peterson, Darren Collison, James Posey
O/U: 41.5

Major changes in the offseason for the Hornets as they cleaned house after a disappointing 37-45 season.  They rebuilt the foundation by hiring a new GM and a new head coach, two guys I know nothing about but from what I read have excellent pedigrees.  There were wholesale changes on the roster again as only 6 players remain from last year's team and only Chris Paul, Peja, and David West remain from their playoff team two years ago.  Their best offseason move was to keep Chris Paul, as their are very few transcendent players like him and anything they would have received in a trade would have been pennies on the dollar and began a massive rebuilding project, something I'm not sure this franchise can survive in this economic climate. They have created some cap flexibility and will be well under the cap for next season, but they will need to be successful this season to prove to CP that they can win in the future, and that cap space can help provide leverage in signing an impact player next offseason.  As for this season, they have a solid starting five with Paul, rising guard Marcus Thorton, Ariza, West, and Emeka Okafor. But they lack toughness and defense in the interior and they have one of the worst benches in the league.  Ultimately if the starting five can stay healthy, they can possibly sneak in the playoffs.  Any injuries to West or CP though will prove devastating.  Important year for the Hornets.
Prediction: 44-38 9th place

Used to be one of the wonders of the world: Spurs-Suns

If you want my attempt at writing about the Spurs-Suns from a more objective standpoint, head over to The Faster Times, but if you want me depressed with nothing to say then here's the place for it: 

The day the Wear brothers transferred from UNC, leaving the Heels with two post players for next year, on the same night where I saw the Braves go without a hit for the first seven innings of a 3-2 loss to the Nationals, my Dad asked me, "Is the series over?" in reference to the Spurs-Suns series, and, trying to remain positive on a day when most of my sports teams seemed to be floundering, I responded, "It'll be tough for them to win the series, but I really do think they'll win Game 3."  I was wrong.  I was really wrong.

A lot of people want to say that this Suns team is a lot better than any of their teams in the past.  I'm not sure of that, but I do know that they're better than this year's San Antonio Spurs; and that these Spurs are no where near as good as the Spurs teams that went onto win championships or even play in the WCF.

I told my Dad "they'll win Game 3," but, last night, as Goran Dragic surpassed Jared Dudley's Game 2 efforts to become the embodiment of the paradigm shift between these two teams, I was silent.  So was the AT&T Center, and both felt empty.  I've never cried over a basketball game, but last night I kind of wanted to, mainly because I was in such shock that I didn't know what else to do.

When Manu Ginobili went off in the third quarter, hitting off balance shots and step back threes, I thought the Spurs had this because that's how this series always goes.  Whenever the Suns push the Spurs, Manu slashes their throats with a play no other player would even attempt, Duncan stands like the Colossus of Rhodes, and if necessary, a Robert Horry intimidates the pieces of the puzzle into their proper places, denying the serfs their rise.  I thought Manu's play in the third quarter would inspire, as Manu and Duncan's play always has, the supporting Spurs to do something of merit; instead, Goran Dragic became what Steve Kerr was for the Spurs off the bench in '03 against the Mavs: unstoppable, inexplicable, devastating.  As a Spurs fan, I haven't felt this way since Derek Fisher stopped time in 2004.

And now we live inside the paradox where Tim Duncan is less inspiring than Steve Nash because, for once, it was Nash's supporting cast that was not intimidated, did not shrink, and did what they had to do, if not more.  And now I feel like Linus without my blue blanket because now it feels like Duncan's been reduced to that statue of a foot on Lost, or worse yet he just got stabbed like Jacob and is now waiting to be kicked into the fire.  One could even go as far as to say that we saw the Suns in John Locke's body, but they were no longer John Locke--they were a pick and roll smoke monster.  This is strange stuff: revelatory and world-changing and any other word you've got for turning point.

Or, it at least feels like it should be.

Everyone is shocked, or acting like they just got back from Damascus, but before the Spurs beat the Mavs, most people were talking about the Suns as possibly the best team in the Western Conference (cause of their record) and as a threat to challenge the Mavs and the Lakers.  They were a lot of people's sleeper pick, until we all saw the Spurs handle the Mavs and forgot what year this is.

I'm still not sure how to react.  My safety blanket is a broken statue, and I long to be like Sayid in this current season of Lost, feeling absolutely nothing.  San Antonio could get swept.  They could win Game 4, maybe even Game 5. They have had double digit leads in each of the last two games.  Who knows?  Maybe this is all just a set up for the ultimate con against Phoenix.  A team's never come back from 3-0, but then again Steve Nash has never beaten the Spurs.  I would think it possible, if there had been so much as a whisper out of San Antonio, its team, or its fans.

All in all, it feels like "night on the sun" and things are "hopelessly hopeless."

For Modernity's Sake: Round One of the NBA Playoffs

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past. 

--F. Scott Fitzgerald                                                                                       

I have a hard time letting go of the past, especially the last decade, which is why the San Antonio versus Dallas series moves me to slouch into bed after midnight and crawl into school the next morning pushed forward by Yeats' gyres and, at most, five hours of sleep.  Relegated to the first round, for the second year in a row, this series is less than it once was, yet it feels more like the Playoffs than any other series being played this postseason, at least for someone who still refuses to fully embrace a new age of basketball with all of its new laws and forces, which just like the old laws and forces, leave a fan ignorant to do anything but applaud through the night and yawn through the day.  I'm tired.  I'm refreshed.  My existence is a tightrope through the tides of TNT.

The Mall Walkers: Tim Duncan and Manu Ginobili

While most stories out of San Antonio this offseason have focused on the team's new acquisitions, the Associated Press is now reporting on the health of Tim Duncan, Manu Ginobili and Tony Parker.

Despite the additions of Richard Jefferson and Antonio McDyess, the Spurs' success this season depends on the health of their big three, which is why all Spurs fans are happy to hear that Duncan and Ginobili have taken up mall walking this offseason.

Ginobili described the experience as, "tough at first cause no one really knows how one's ankles and knees will hold up on the escalator, but I just have to stay focused and use tunnel vision...no orange juliuses or cinnabuns...they go right to the hips."

Fellow teammate Michael Finley introduced Duncan and Giniobili to the idea of mall walking, claiming that it's the reason he's still playing basketball after all those years in the ABA: "it's a great physical and mental workout. Verne always tells stories about when her husband Rupert was over in the Pacific, fighting the Japanese, and I just try and relate those to playing against the Lakers. Verne really puts things in perspective."

Asked if mall walking might increase one's chances for further injury, Duncan responded, "that's why we stretch."

Some critics of the Spurs hear that the team is doing laps at the local mall, a hobby normally reserved for the elderly, like Finley, and wonder if the team will be in the physical condition required to compete at an NBA level, to which Spurs coach Greg Popovich responds, "I tried going a few laps with them, but I tuckered out and wound up sitting on a bench outside of Panera, so you tell me who's out of shape."

Ginobili laughed when asked if the story of his coach was true, "yeah, we went pretty hard on him at the start, hoping he would get tired. As soon as he was out of sight, we hopped on the rascals and raced to the arcade."

The Ever-Changing NBA Landscape, from the Old West to the Shifting of Tectonic Plates

The original idea was to label the above photo, in all its black and white macabre glory as the grave marker for the last decade of NBA basketball. I even had two extended metaphors I planned on using. The first one, since I found the above picture to resemble a tombstone, compared the NBA to the wild west, with Tim Duncan as the straight-shooting Wyatt Earp andShaquille O'Neal as the always witty and physically ailing Doc Holiday. Instead of painting the two big men as rivals, I wanted to paint them as fighting the good fight, together, against theClanton's and McLaury's. In other words, I wanted to paint the last decade as the gunfight at the O.K. Corral, with these two making the last stand for the traditional center everywhere, before rail roads, fences, and the automobile ate up so much land that the court became too small for these Ice Aged mammals and fell into the hands of guards and wingmen that like small rodents are more flash than substance. I wanted to show that Duncan and Shaq needed one another, even if, like Earp and Holiday, they were on opposite sides of the law.

But I threw out that idea when I started watching The History Channel in heavy doses. Shaqand Duncan are not Earp and Holiday. They are bitter rivals, forced to battle with one another because of their proximity on the League's timeline. They are a woolly mammoth and a saber tooth tiger.

In the last decade, interest in the NBA froze, as seen by the frosty TV ratings of the NBA Finals. While Shaq roamed the Arctic tundra with Duncan clawing at his flesh, casual sports fans, like elementary schoolers visiting the Smithsonian just wanted to see the dinosaur exhibits. The casual fan couldn't get over the idea that Jordan as T-Rex would dominate a woolly mammoth and a saber tooth tiger, not thinking about the fact that a T-Rex would never survive in sub-freezing temperatures. I thought this metaphor of the last decade as a slow-moving glacier carving out the League's future was as good as fossilized and then a few things happened:

namely the economy, volcanic eruptions, and a sputtering of ideas....

This past season trade rumors flew, but nothing happened other than the Detroit-Denver trade that sent AI to Detroit and Billups to Denver. It was like a poker game where no one ups the ante. It would not have been surprising to hear that NBA owners were hiding cash under their mattresses and in lunch pales, buried in the backyard, afraid to take financial risks because of a bear market economy.

This willingness for so many teams to stand pat made it seem like the League was going to just wait for the Ice Age to thaw, especially when Cleveland decided not to trade for Shaq and San Antonio chose not to acquire Richard Jefferson or Vince Carter. The lack of action at the trade deadline made it appear that our two 7-foot cowboys were riding off into the sunset, but, as they rode out, someone yelled, "rape!" or "help! we're being robbed!" or "draw," followed by the sound of a pistol being cocked; and, at that moment, RC Buford decided that Tim Duncan needed another deputy to watch his back and traded two old horses and a mule for Richard Jefferson, who wins the award for always seeming younger than he really is. He's like the Cougar of the NBA; he looks 20, but he's pushing 30. He's also the Spurs hired gun.

Unfortunately, for Spurs fan, this gunfight appears to be outside the realm of Hollywood script writing. Buford was not the only one who heard time's pistol being cocked behind him. Steve Kerr also heard it, leading to Shaq the Woolly Mammoth's migration to Cleveland, which prompted the Magic to trade for Vince Carter, sending Hedo Turkoglu and Marcin Gortat back out into the wild. Then, the Detroit Pistons received verbal commitments from Ben Gordon and Charlie Villanueva, while their own Ice Age relic, Rasheed Wallace, desperately went in search of a way to keep his place in the NBA food chain as a relevant player on a championshipteam, and his search could land him anywhere from Boston to Cleveland to San Antonio. Zack Randolph was sent to the Grizzlies for Quentin Richardson, and, lastly, the Lakers appear to have struck a deal with Ron Artest, causing the Rockets to court Trevor Ariza. Too much is at work right now for this fight to boil down into one man versus another, in the middle of the street; there are too many pieces involved for it to be as simple as High Noon.

This offseason started off like a scene from the Old West but became a show and tell of how the world works like a card game, meaning that one card in a deck of 52 can dictate the destinies of several franchises all at once. The Spurs pushed their chips to the middle, like they were moving land masses, and traded all their front court depth for the chance to win one last hand. Then, one team after another called their bluff by pushing their chips into the middle as well. A gun fight tends to have only two sides to it. One man challenges another by saying, "draw." A gunfight comes down to two men, timing, and guts. Sometimes, before the gunfight, there is the preface of the poker game, which comes down to luck and a reading of temperaments.

This offseason is the last big hand of this poker game. The last two hands saw LA, San Antonio, Cleveland, Boston, Detroit, Orlando, Phoenix, and Houston sit around the poker table staring blankly at one another for well into the night. They're the usual players at the saloon's big money table, getting together like this every decade or so.

LA and Boston are the old money; they've been around forever, and their spots at the table are reserved until the day they die. San Antonio's been on a hot streak of late, winning enough of the old money that he has to be kept at the table to give the aristocrats a chance at winning it all back. Detroit's always been a steady player, never takes too much of a risk; when he stays in the game, one knows he's got a good hand--he never bluffs. Houston's the same way. Every time he stays, it's a calculated risk that anyone in their right mind would have taken. Orlando and Cleveland are new money. Everyone's watching them closely, just to see how they handle the pressures of finally getting seats at the big table, wondering if they're the new San Antonio or just another Sacramento. Lastly, there's Phoenix, and Phoenix is here because somebody always has to go out first; and Phoenix fills this role. Phoenix talks and drinks too much. Phoenix takes every raising of the stakes personally. Phoenix bets when he should fold and folds when he should bet.

All San Antonio's chips are on the table, but they are not the only ones playing this hand as if they were starving. Early in tonight's game, Phoenix put too much stock in a decent hand and lost almost everything. Now, in an effort to just hang around, Phoenix unbuckles his great grandfather's pocket watch and slides it across the table, his fingers tremble as they leave the gold watch next to Cleveland, and Cleveland responds by flicking a couple of chips Phoenix's way. The rest of the table eyes the transaction critically. First of all, they're all thinking Phoenix gave up the watch all too cheaply, and second of all, no one should be kept at the table who doesn't belong there; leave drunkards to the bottle and cattle rustlers to the gallows. Cleveland's given Phoenix false hope. Phoenix only has a pair of Aces, a club and a spade.

Detroit and Houston fold; all they have is the pair available off the flop. Boston's been here before; he matches San Antonio. He's got a flush. LA has a full house; he matches San Antonio. Orlando hesitates, but he then matches the other three; he's only got two pair. Cleveland matches; he's holding a three of a kind. All have a hand that justifies their confidence; but how many men at one table can lady luck kiss?

San Antonio, the dealer, burns one card, and then places his hand on the deck. The four community cards are a 10 of diamonds, a 10 of clubs, a Queen of diamonds, and a King of diamonds. San Antonio eyes the other players at the table and then looks at the two cards in his left hand, a Jack of diamonds and a four of clubs. San Antonio begins to lift the corner of the river, knowing that once turned it will either bring disastrous rapids or the ocean.

San Antonio feels the table shaking and looks down at the floor. The whole room is shaking from wall to wall. Lamps flicker and glass clinks together like rain drops on a tin roof. Outside, a man yells, "stampede!" not draw. A dust cloud consumes the view outside of the swinging saloon doors, and from the yellow storm comes the sound of growling and a loud pitched elephant's wail. A trunk flails about in the wind; it's woolly and covered with claw marks. Snow piles up at the door so high that the doors stop swinging. San Antonio realizes that it was never a dust cloud outside but a blizzard mixing snow with dirt. The card waits to be turned.

San Antonio begins to lift it from the deck when the back wall of the saloon melts into lava. Sparks fly, and a river of red and orange flows into the snow bank, melting it. Here in the saloon water meets fire, and the floor splits in two.

San Antonio, LA, Boston, Cleveland, and Orlando are on one side, and the NBA's 25 other teams reside on the other--the have's and the have not's. The have's use the poker table as a raft while the have not's melt like wax in the fire.

The world does this ever so often, breaking itself apart to make something new. Super-continents like Rodinia and Pangaea come together and then get ripped apart. Mountains fall into oceans and oceans pull back like bed sheets. Shaq moves west, then east, then west, and then east again, scarring North America with his feet like glaciers digging lakes. Tim Duncan's fate as the league's polar ice cap rests in the fate of a river card. Time's gun is cocked, and now it comes down to waiting for a kiss.

San Antonio needs the Ace of Diamonds. They have Tim Duncan, Tony Parker, Manu Ginobili, and Richard Jefferson, but they still need the fifth piece for their starting line up, whether it's Rasheed Wallace or Marcin Gortat. Otherwise, they will melt from the heat created by the preponderance of volcanic eruptions that hurtled five teams toward one another like tectonic plates and sunk the rest of the league into a sea of mediocrity.

The stillness at the trade deadline, during the season, was just the calm before the storm, and now the government, the banks, the investors, and those families that saved wisely are buying up assets. San Antonio fans, if this bold offseason doesn't buy back the family farm, then we're no better off than the Joad family, and we may share the same fate as those 25 other teams for a long time to come. We're no longer a player next offseason because of our financial obligations to Jefferson, and this offseason may just be a tremor compared with what's to come in the summer of 2010.

The last gasp of the Woolly Mammoth and Saber Tooth Tiger is upon us, and it promises to be one helluva a gun fight.

NBA on ABC: Spurs vs. Celtics and Cavs vs. Lakers

"Looking at something changes it....  The more you look the less you really know."

                               --The Coen Brothers, The Man Who Wasn't There

This past week was a good week for the NBA, an extremely good week.  Kobe and Lebron teed off against the New York Knicks.  The Lakers and Celtics met in a showdown, and today the Lakers, Cavs, and Celtics are all showcased again, only the San Antonio Spurs are too.  Whenever ABC or ESPN put up a list of the top teams, it obviously includes the Lakers, Cavs, and Celtics.  The fourth team on the list, however, is the Orlando Magic.  The numbers would tell us that they are the fourth best team in the League, but having watched the last decade of basketball, we know the bigger threat to Kobe, the King, and KG are the guys in black and silver--"looking at something changes it."

The Spurs face off against the defending champions the Boston Celtics today.  I believe deep down in my heart that this matchup would have been last year's Finals matchup if one of two things had happened last season.  If the Spurs had earned the #2 seed instead of the #3 seed, they would have come out of the West.  A #2 seed last year would have avoided them an emotionally grueling series against the Phoenix Suns, and it would have allowed them to have the home court in the second round, as opposed to them traveling to New Orleans.  Having the #2 see would have also prevented the Spurs from spending the night on an airplane the day before the Lakers series.   Remember in Game 1 how the Spurs dominated the Lakers for 3 quarters and then collapsed in the 4th quarter.  As a Spurs fan, I have to blame Game 1 of last year's Western Conference Finals on the night spent on an airplane.  The other factor that might have changed things in that Lakers series is Manu's health. These observations allow doubt to enter into the reality that the Lakers were the best team in the West last season.  These observations allow for "reasonable doubt."

What we observe does not just change how we view the past, but it affects how we view the present.  Based on past statistics and observations, we accept two truths about this Spurs team.  We label them as old, and we label them as a great defensive team, but the observations we've made this year change what we once held as true.  This Spurs team is not that old.  Yes, Tim Duncan is 32, Michael Finley is 35, Manu Ginobili is 31, Kurt Thomas is 36 and Bruce Bowen is 37, but Tony Parker is only 26, George Hill is 22,  and Matt Bonner and Roger Mason are 28.  Of those 30 and older guys, Bowen no longer starts and only gets 20 minutes a game.  Bowen, Oberto, Udoka, and Vaughn are all more likely to be found on the bench these days than in seasons past.  The Spurs have become younger on the sly.  Of course, the turn to youth has made them less of a defensive team.  In the past, this team was always top 3 in defensive field goal percentage.  This season they've hovered around 15th in the league. What we come to accept as truth is now always true.

Last night, in Arlington, Stan Yuengling and I got into a conversation about what was more impressive--Lebron's "triple-double" or Kobe's 61.  I felt that Lebron's "triple-double," even if he did only grab 9 rebounds was the more impressive feat. My argument was that Lebron clearly had the better all-around game, and that while he only scored 52 points to Kobe's 61, he more than made up for that because he had 11 assists to Kobe's 3 assists and zero rebounds.  Lebron's assist total means that he accounted for at least 74 points, while Kobe's assists, even if they all went to guys shooting 3's, would add up to at most 70 points, and that doesn't even account for the impact of Lebron's 9 rebounds and Kobe having none.   I felt strongly about these facts.  

I know I felt strongly about these facts because my voice is hoarse this morning, which means I must have been on my soap box last night, surrounded by cigarette smoke and alcohol.  I was preaching hard, slapping the table and rattling the glasses, but I'd already lost my congregation.  Stan Yeungling shrugged his shoulders and said, "yeah, Lebron had a better all-around game, but Kobe's was more fun to watch.  Kobe's was better.  He made me say wow a lot.  Lebron didn't make me say wow."  This theme crept into our next debate also.  

When Stan gave his top 3 most important players of the past decade, he listed Shaq, Kobe, and Allen Iverson.  He made his list after I said that the careers of Shaq and Tim Duncan are a toss up.  Shaq averages 24 points a game for his career.  Duncan averages 21 points a game for his career, but edges Shaq's career numbers for rebounds, blocks, and assists.  Plus, each has four rings.  They've combined for 3 MVP's, and each has 3 Finals MVP's.  Stan's response was, "Duncan isn't even one of the top 3 most important players of the last decade."  I later got Stan to revise the title of his list.  Instead of calling it the most important players list, he made it the player I liked to watch over the last decade list.  The point is if watching something changes it, then there's the possibility each of us is viewing a different truth.  

Stan Yuengling believes AI is a great player.  I believe he's earned his reputation for greatness under false pretenses.  I know he went to the Finals in 2001, but I also know all he had to do was beat Vince Carter's Raptors and the Glen Robinson, Sam Cassell, Ray Allen Bucks.  I know that when Iverson's Sixer teams mattered so did the Antione Walker and Paul Pierce-led Celtics.  He was playing in a watered down conference that inflated the reputations of good players into very good players and very good players into great players.  What I've seen Iverson do since 2001 in Philly, Denver, and now Detroit has caused me to doubt his accomplishments, but it hasn't phased Stan Yuengling one bit.  Stan looks at Iverson's career and sees one play, the crossover against Jordan, not the mediocrity of the majority of Iverson's teams or his inability to make anyone better, even other All-Stars, Olympians, and former champions.  

When we watch a basketball game, it comes down not just to what happened but how it happened.  It's not what we saw but how we saw it, and asking how becomes much more subjective than asking what. 

This past week the Celtic-Lakers game mattered because of how they played the matchup; they played like it was the playoffs.  When I saw Lebron go for 52 points, 11 assists, and 9 rebounds, I saw him come within one rebound of a feat that hadn't been done since the '70s, and I saw him do things on a basketball court that no other player in history could have done.  I was wowed.  Stan wasn't.  

When I saw Kobe, I saw Michael Jordan; and I missed his greatness, which brings me to the one point Stan Yuengling and I agreed on last night.  MJ was more impressive than Lebron or Kobe when he went for 55 against the Knicks six games into his comeback during the '94-'95 season because he did it against a great team.  

Kobe and Lebron posted their numbers against a 21-28 team that is coached by Mike D'Antoni, who doesn't believe in defense.  He made no adjustments against Kobe.  His strategy was to hope he starts missing, to me that's giving up.  In the NBA, a team has to make in-game adjustments.  When MJ went for 55, he did it against a team that had just gone to the Finals the year before. He did it against one of the best defensive teams in the history of the League.  He did it against Hall of Famer Patrick Ewing, not David Lee.  He did it against John Starks, not Quentin Richardson.  He did it against Charles Oakley and Anthony Mason, not Wilson Chandler and Jared Jeffries.  He did it against Derek Harper, Hubert Davis, Doug Christie, Charlie Ward, and J.R. Reid, not Danilo Gallinari and Nate Robinson, and it's the depth of that Knicks team that brings me to this last point.

This Spurs team, despite its 33-15 record, is not yet a threat to the Lakers, Celtics, or Cavs.  Thirteen of those fifteen losses have come to teams that are .500 or better, which is enough for me to have "reasonable doubt" about the quality of the team's wins. It's called the "uncertainty principle," and there's a guy looking into it with numbers (John Hollinger), and hopefully, RC Buford is looking to make one more move before the trade deadline because the NBA is clearly back to what it was in the '80s and '90s in terms of talented teams that can win a championship. 

And that Knicks team, even with all their depth and grit, only finished as a runner-up.   This Spurs team needs more of both attributes if it's even going to finish second to one of the big three.  Any other finish is like not even existing. Like being a black and white film in a world of color, there's a reason San Antonio's colors are what they are.  They're flying under the radar of human perception, which means they'll either sneak up on everyone or no one at all.

It's an uncertain prediction at best.

San Antonio Spurs' Manu Ginobili...

played his first game of the 2008-09 season tonight, finishing with 12 points and 4 rebounds in a win against the Memphis Grizzlies. George Hill led the way with 20 points. Roger Mason chipped in with 18, and Tim Duncan was his usual self with 14 points, 11 rebounds, and 4 blocks. Manu, you were missed--Rakim sounds much better over Eric B.'s scratches than he does going acapella. 

The team is now 7-6 and 6-2 since Tony Parker went down with an ankle injury, meaning they've recovered from a 1-4 start that could have been disastrous, yet another reason of many showing that we take Tim Duncan for granted.  The other 95 reasons were nailed to a church door and started Protestantism.  

Anyway, I digress.  Welcome back, Manu, one of the most unique players in the history of the game, which on second thought, makes Manu much like another unique individual, who has also been on hiatus:


You either love them or hate them.

I think I have a man crush.

In Memoriam of the Spurs "Dynasty" (straight rambling)

David Stern is happy. Doug Collins is happy. Marv Albert is happy. Charles Barkley is happy. The PTI guys are happy. The casual basketball fan is happy. ABC and ESPN are happy. Jack Nicholson and Flea are happy. Bill Simmons is happy. Red Aurbach's ghost is happy. Jerry West and Kevin McHale are happy. Brian Scalabrine is happy. Bill and Wilt are happy. The Caesars of Rome are happy. The people of Camelot are happy. The Pharisees are happy. The horn of Gondor blows victory and it's all because the San Antonio Spurs are done.

From 1999 to 2007, the NBA did not know what to make of itself and its marquee team in silver and black, and everyone went into hibernation, missing an important lesson on archetypes and human nature. Everyone missed what the basketball gods were trying to show us. The writing was on the wall, and we were all hooked on phonics. The Tim Duncan, Greg Popovic, and R.C. Buford era just taught us more about ourselves than we ever really wanted to know.

They taught us that it's not the foundation we appreciate, nor the exposition of a plot line, or anything of obscure subtlety. We long to be awed. We long to worship at the feet of kings and emperors, and if we can't have those, then bring us our golden calves, but please, give us something to bow down to. Show us our place, rather than something that forces us to find our own way, like a riddle.

David Robinson's selflessness during the 1999 and 2003 championship runs was like having a stable lover. His presence on those teams was like seeing one's dad always drive them to and from soccer practice or seeing one's mom always find some way to get food in the family's belly by seven, even if she was at work all day. This kind of love is not what the public wanted; the public wanted Valentine's Day every day. The public wanted rose pedals that led to the hoop and a Hallmark card perched against the backboard. The public wanted to know what color paint was on the walls and what the story's climax was, but the public did not want to know what held up those walls or how we got to the story's turning point. We did not want to see the work that goes into real love.

The San Antonio Spurs were the how and the why of love and all anyone wanted to know was the what; what is easier to digest. In 1971, Marvin Gaye asked, "what's going on?", and there was not an easy answer in basketball terms until the 1980's. In the '80s, one could look at Magic's smile and Larry's glare and know that two opposing forces were ramming into each other like good vs. evil or cold and hot fronts on a weather map. Any idiot could tell where the storm was. In the '90s, there was no deep thought required to know what color paint was on the walls. Michael Jordan wrote a Valentine's Day card every time he stepped on the court. He flew to the hoop on cupid's wings; his dunks and fadeaways hitting us like arrows. If basketball were a high school dance and every basketball fan was wearing a corsage, then every fan would dream of either Magic, Larry, or Michael being their dance partner when "Til the End of the Road" comes over the loud speaker. Tim Duncan showed up for the dance wearing combat boots and flannel, and his date wore an anarchy sign on her spandex cheerleading outfit.

Tim Duncan never asked to be called The Big Fundamental. When Charles Barkley first played against him, he described the experience as, "I have seen the future." Let's remember that at this time Shaq was still a young player who had already made a Finals appearance, but it was Duncan that made Barkley feel like a gypsy palm reader; and it was Shaq who dubbed Duncan more of an insult than a nickname, especially in a world where bankshots do not make bank and help defense means nothing in an All-Star game. But Duncan was never just The Big Fundamental. Duncan was a wizard. Duncan was Merlin.

In every story or myth, there is the great hero archetype, the savior, the king, the uniter. Larry, Magic, and Michael were a royal triumvirate. They were the old Roman Empire. We could easily add Caesar or Constantine to Jordan's long list of nicknames because he held the empire together, and there is no doubt he left a void upon his retirement. After Caesar's death, the void was managed by a weak triumvirate: Marc Antony, Octavian, and the guy no one remembers. Shaq played the part of Marc Antony during the last decade, praising his own skills and experience in battle. Octavian was Kobe, and Dwayne Wade was the guy no one will wind up remembering. The Pistons were the Huns, the Vandals, and the Visigoths. A group like them was never supposed to win a championship, but they burned Rome to the ground anyway. This allegory of archetypes works well, but where is Tim Duncan in all of it?

He's Merlin. He's the archetype no one really appreciates. In the absence of a true king, Merlin rules with shadow puppets and patience, watching a stone with a sword in it. He's Gandalf with an eye and an ear on the ring, on Mordor, and on a king who has yet to claim his place. He's John the Baptist in the wilderness, preparing with honey and locust the throne of his Savior. He's Obi Won Kinobi on Tatooine, always knowing the heartbeats of two twins because of the Force. If we can not find Tim Duncan in these archetypes, then where do we find him?

The Spurs were the league's gatekeepers for a decade. The gatekeeper is not an easy role to play. The gatekeeper is often old, bearded, and past their prime. The gatekeeper holds silently to a faith that all will be made good, even if everyone else doubts their sanity. Whatever Bruce Bowen and Robert Horry did to the Suns and Hornets, it was done because as the gatekeepers they knew those teams were not the rightful heirs to the throne. The gatekeeper is ornery. The gatekeeper is seldom straightforward. The gatekeeper asks more of us than we do of ourselves. The gatekeeper makes everyone wait. The gatekeeper often is forced to resurrect itself through stone tables, the Force, or a flux capacitator, but no matter what is always there.

These Spurs have been resurrected before. They did it between '99 and '03, and they did it again between '03 and '04. Can they do it again? Will they do it again? Do they need to do it again? The real answer depends on whether Kobe is the true heir to the triumvirate of Magic, Larry, and Michael. Will Octavian become Augustus? Because if Kobe is not the true heir, then a gatekeeper is still needed. Otherwise, chaos ensues, and barbarians become champions, like Rasheed Wallace doing his best Attila the Hun impersonation.

The Spurs did the league a thankless job. When no other team or player was ready, they minded the throne, and they did it in a way that set them apart from other champions. They did it as if they had to, not because they wanted to. Merlin never takes Excalibur as his, and Gandalf never wears the ring. The Spurs never wore the role of champion well. Why else did they never repeat?

But the fact that Kobe had to go through San Antonio in order to make the Finals lends credence to his claim that he is ready, and it's why I must believe that the Lakers will beat the Celtics. Kobe has looked so Jordanesque that I must believe he was born under the sign of the Pendragon, and while I appreciate the gatekeepers in stories more than those who walk through the gate, I know the rest of the world needs its champions to wear crowns. I know the rest of the world needs its king because it shows all of us that there is an order to things. It shows all of us that our kings are bigger than us, more Hollywood than us, and on a different plane than us. Why so many people need such a hierarchy is beyond me. Maybe, such hierarchies offer us all the excuse that it's not about work ethic but about one's birthright, and deep down the Spurs made us all feel guilty from Barkley to Derrick Coleman to my students who never turn anything in to me for not motivating them to turn anything in. If the Spurs could win championships without a king archetype, then why can't we also? (and that's what we never wanted to know)

Spurs, I thank you for minding the gate.