FU Resurrected: The Art of Legacy

*blows dust and peels away cobwebs from the blog*

Yeah, yeah. I know. Long time no blog. But I've always made it clear that posts drop as often as I've had time. Frankly, I just haven't had the time. Other things and other opportunities have come about. But now that I'm able to balance all of that--and with the best NBA offseason ever--I'm back and able to philosophize about the game that is Basketball. Been away for months, but things haven't changed. Meet me after the random picture...


There's no need to recap what happened this offseason. It was practically everywhere. No links necessary. And yes, the first article back will be about "The Decision." However, it won't be approving or scolding LeBron for playing for Miami or even the hour-long special itself. Instead, this post will focus on a key point that seems to be the underlying factor for people who were against Lebron's move: legacy.

Most people (including myself, before I really thought about it) felt that Lebron changing teams and teaming with another superstar somehow hurts his legacy long-term. They feel that somehow, Lebron can no longer ascend to that "Chosen One" throne because left Cleveland. To them, Lebron's lost the chance at becoming the best basketball player ever simply by switching jerseys at 25. But is there a concrete definition of "legacy?" Or is there merely a mythological perception of it...


I believe that over time, the Elites of all sports began to share certain characteristics. And I don't just mean Hall of Famers. I'm referring to the legends--the icons that are spoken of with hallowed breaths. These players seem to have similar career paths. They play for one team most (if not all) their careers. They break a few records, pile up gaudy stats, and win multiple rings. The prime example is Jordan, who's so deified that his two years with the Wizards are viewed as though another person was player/executive in D.C. Bird and Magic spent their entire tenures immersed in the NBA's most famous rivalry; and there are certainly other sports that have players that have done the same. They get to the point where imagining them in another uniform becomes a ridiculous notion. Their franchises deem them too valuable to part with, and allow for them to retire with the squad with which they began.

There is one pro athlete who still ascended to consensus greatness despite playing for multiple teams. That is Wayne Gretzky. The Great One was so dominant as a player, that it didn't matter that he played for a few teams. He was just that good. How often Gretzky changed jerseys would have had no bearing on how is career ended because his talent was just that undeniable. Of course, hindsight is 20/20; and he's an exception to that mold that other Elite athletes fit in.

What does Gretzky's hockey greatness have to do with Lebron? Well as I stated, Lebron has been selected--justly or unjustly--as someone that can finish his career as the best to ever hoop. If that wasn't the case, then there wouldn't have been a big deal being made about his move to Miami, nor would there have been ESPN network time for his decision. He would have been a footnote on the bottom line and a brief segment on SportsCenter like, say, Rudy Gay was when he signed. But he wasn't...because he is Lebron. And we recognize the potential awesomeness his talents can reach.


This isn't to say that Lebron will be the GOAT; but we also can't deny that he has the capability to dethrone His Airness. This was to suggest that just because a great player changes teams does not necessarily diminish his career. Let his play on the court and his winning or lack thereof determine where he ranks among the pantheon of Basketball players--not his jersey.



Peace.

Premature Anointing?

Apologies for the hiatus. Computer monitor issues got in the way of the myriad of ideas for posts that I had in the past two months. Plus, life became really, really busy. Anyway, a lot of things have happened in the Basketball Realm; and the first round is nearly over, save for one game. I thought that a lot of my ideas would be too past-tense to be posted. But alas, the more things change... My next post is still relevant. I know it's been a long time; but yall know what to do. Meet me after the random picture...

About a year ago, I wrote about the mind state that the Elite players in the Association have. They never rattle in nerve-wrecking situations; and rarely make terrible decisions when other, lesser players are panicking. Those role players look to their leader as a calming influence in the most turbulent of game circumstances. Elites provide comfort, whether through words or actions, to his teammates; allowing them to stay in their respective lanes and thrive as complementary pieces. Some, like Kobe and Jordan, lead through fear and lofty expectations. Others, like Chris Paul and Kevin Durant, befriend their teammates and gain loyalty through friendship. Whichever method he chooses, an Elite must be able to respond to his team's distress signal and diffuse all crises, one basket at a time.

Within the branch of the All-Star players in the Basketball Realm, there exists some who have the mentality to be true #1's; and those that only have the game—but not the makeup—to be true Elite players. They're better as very good #2 players, able to be very productive without having to carry a squad. On Twitter, I've made my share of comments about Dirk Nowitzki and Vince Carter. I'll get to Vinsanity later. But I'm focusing on another two-guard with all the offensive tools. Begrudgingly, this brings me to Joe Johnson...

This is sort of personal, because I had ordained Joe Johnson as an upper-echelon shooting guard. Truth is, he is the third-best at that position. The sadder truth is that the gap between the other two (Kobe & Wade) and himself is wider than the margin of victory Orlando defeated Johnson's Hawks. I used to praise that he embraced anonymity; until he began to frequently fade into said anonymity whenever Atlanta had a tough game. I liked how he let Josh Smith be the marquee player through his highflying dunks and blocks. Until his recent quotations on the sparse fan support at Phillips Arena, I had never heard him speak. It may be a result of his personality; but at some point, while his team was getting manhandled, Johnson should have spoken up. He didn't have to do it publicly, but his play on the court would have been evident that he took the defeats personally. Good luck getting that max contract now.

Joe Johnson's was best suited as the fourth option on the SSOL Suns in the middle of the previous decade. As the only player other than Nash that could create, he had a niche that made those Phoenix teams formidable. Once he took the money and moved to ATL, that spotlight seems to have gotten too bright and he hasn't had the same success as the main threat. Vince Carter can relate. Carter was brought into the Magic Kingdom to be the devastating weapon that Hedo Turkoglu couldn't be last season. Orlando's a better team, but it's not because of him. Jameer Nelson's healthy and playing superbly, allowing Vince to blend in and continue to settle for jumpers. While the Magic were dismantling the Bobcats and Hawks, Carter's subpar shooting went unnoticed. In the eight games Orlando's played, he's 8-32 in three-point field goals—and he made four of those in the closeout game against Atlanta. He's Courtney Lee with a reputation of a sublime scorer, and lives off that rep alone.

Somehow, this brings me to Lebron. I believe that he is the best player on the planet. However, with his most recent game being his worst to date, it's fair to ask if he does have the mentality to carry a franchise. That's a big difference between he and Kobe. Kobe earned his Elite status through sheer determination and will to win. Lebron's godlike status was handed to him; and he has exponentially exceeded everything we had expected him to be. He's brought relevance to a city that wallows in its own futility, carried mediocre players to title contention, and has not once alienated his teammates or coach after series defeats. But, a question that was never thought of has now surfaced. Does Lebron have that Elite makeup? Yes, he's summoned his powers at his whim in the Motor City. But this is different. Now, he's expected to move mountains and reach the highest of heights, excuses and inflamed elbow tendons be damned. So what that Mo Williams isn't very good? Lebron is supposed to win anyway. This is your destiny, whether you chose it or not. Your legacy begins now, Chosen One. Good luck tonight.


Peace.

FU Graph: The Role Player X-Y Motion-Dependency Graph

We're graphing again. This time, it's a brief look at the makeup of the role player, using some of the more recognizable secondary players in the Association. Peep it below...
Even though the graph has an "independent" side to the X-axis, every non-star is dependent on something. Whether it's playing against the opponents' second string lineup or the spacing their team's best player provides based on his awesome, role players need some sort of outside help--otherwise, they'd be All-Stars. That previous sentence is why Josh Smith makes this graph. He, like Dwight Howard and Amar'e Stoudemire, is most effective when in constant motion. Offense can't run "through" him yet. He's the true definition of a finisher; and he's beginning to grasp this notion (taken far less threes this year, plays 17 feet and in). Maybe next year, he'll participate in that game in February.

There's no right or wrong role player. Championship teams have had at least one player fall in each of the four quadrants. In my opinion, the most important player is the one that follows in the lower left quadrant, named the "Ginobili" quadrant. That player can come in the game and take over the game offensively because he's more talented than the other team's second-unit. He can carry his team for stretches while star players are in foul trouble or slumping from the field. They're self-reliant yet remain complimentary. This is why Atlanta's a serious threat with Jamal Crawford; and why the Suns haven't been the same without Joe Johnson--and why Johnson's a multi-time All-Star without Nash. But with that said, the contrapositive of the Ginobili quadrant consists of those players that are standstill and dependent. This fourth of the graph is named the "Kerr" quadrant. Normally, being standstill just refers to those players that dwell beyond the arc. But in the case of Zydrunas, for example, he's the premier pick-and-pop big man in the NBA; but rarely takes a three. "Standstill," in my thinking, means a player shoots it where he catches it. It doesn't necessarily mean from distance. If All-Stars were being included, then David West would be the prime choice. There's nothing detrimental about being an accessory to greatness.

This graph was made with Rasheed Wallace and Lamar Odom in mind. These two were acquired by the Celtics and Lakers respectively as valuable pieces to bring championships. Odom, after being invisible against the C's in 2008, showed up and showed out last season. His brief awakening provided LA with indefensible mismatches at the power forward position. It's no secret how much ability he possesses. The inquiry has always been if he can sustain it and not engage in Mamba watching. That's why he has an "invisible" plot and a "visible" one. He literally disappears and reappears by the game. As for Rasheed, his problems have always been psychosomatic. I've spoken my piece on how great I feel 'Sheed should be/have been; but for some reason, he enjoys being anonymous and unselfish. He's still unstoppable in the post, but he'd rather remain floating around 24 feet away from the basket. His skills haven't diminished as much as his play would suggest. He still gives Dwight Howard fits when defending him. For Boston's sake, he captures some semblance of his old form and be what KG, Shuttlesworth, and Pierce thought he would be when they visited him in their successful attempt to recruit him to Beantown. Odom and Wallace come and go as they please.

While researching information for this graph (props to everyone that gave suggestions on Twitter), I found that there are very few players that fall into the standstill and independent quadrant, titled, the "Vinnie Johnson." JR Smith and Jason Terry are players that can dominate the game with their jumpers; yet break offensive sets or have sets run through them to get them open. They're not one-on-one scorers, per se. Yet they seem to have the ball in their hands and given the proverbial green light. Their perimeter games are so reliable, and they play on teams in Denver and Dallas that get little production from the 2-guard spot. They fit perfectly in those schemes.

As with my other graphs, this was just a microcosm of all the role players in the Association. I could do a graph for every team, by conference, or even by position. But I omit things for the sake of debate. And as usual, leave likes and dislikes in the comment box.



Peace.

Deep Fried Frenz

Go here for title explanation.

One of the biggest misconceptions fans make is that Basketball players and other pro athletes don't play hard. Most of them do care about the love of the game; and the ones that don't care (no shots in this post, so don't look for them) speaks to their personalities more than the fact they're professionals. The saying goes, "Money doesn't change you. It makes you more of what you already are." Those players were going to be that way regardless if they were hoopers or CEOs. Anyway, evidence of most professionals giving it 100% isn't in just diving for loose balls, blocking a shot then finishing on the ensuing break, or hanging one's head when a buzzer-beater attempt clangs off the back rim. Some of the better players in the game have shown how much Basketball is ingrained in their souls without a single dribble. More after the random picture...

In any social setting, people gravitate to certain people. Everyone has a crew of friends that will be with them for life. In the NBA, some of the better players have had that one best friend on their team that seems to keep them relatable and sane. Those players, in my opinion, gives them a feeling of normalcy as their teammates depend on their production. They also need those friends to keep them from getting too high from praise or too low from criticism. As a result, negotiations between front office and star tend to indirectly involve that best friend—usually resulting in hindering a trade. In the second pickup game post, I referenced the relationship between Tracy McGrady and Mike Miller. They were close friends, but McGrady scoffed at the idea of parting with his homeboy. Because of it, Orlando (at the time) couldn't move Miller; who was sought-after by a number of teams. Only those GMs know the deals that were possible had McGrady come to grips with the business side of the NBA. Finally, McGrady was dealt to Houston (shouts to Reece Gaines).

The other big name in that deal also had a best friend whom he was reluctant to separate from. Steve Francis and Cuttino Mobley were amigos inseparables, as if Mobley was the Paul Bearer to Francis' Undertaker. Once Orlando sent Mobley to the Clippers, Francis' play suffered. He went from perennial All-Star to bench rider with rickety knees. From this, to being just a salary throw-in to complete trades, Raef Lafrentz style. I don't know if Cuttino's departure directly affected the drastic decline in Francis' play, but it certainly is noticeable. And on a personal note, as a Maryland native and resident, it hurts me that his falloff was so swift. It's different from Iverson's because it seems AI has had a "full" career (minus a ring). It's also different from Marbury's because there aren't any public emotional problems. You know, Francis isn't eating Vaseline and crying.

Remember when the Lakers were flirting with a trade for Jason Kidd? Kobe was threatening abandonment, and the front office was getting desperate. But yet, they stood firm. Part of it may be them waiting on Andrew Bynum to develop; but the Lakers are still waiting on that. Let's entertain my "friends" theory. The only teammate that's been with Kobe through all the Lakers' titles this millennium is Derek Fisher; and is probably the only teammate the Mamba doesn't have his guard up when talking to him. Bringing Kidd in would have likely meant Fisher to be dealt or reduced minutes from the bench. Would Kobe's play have suffered? Doubtful, considering it took two fingers, back spasms, and an injured ankle to finally get him not to play Basketball. Still, it's obvious Fisher and Kobe have a different bond than any of the other Lakers—which is saying something considering Artest and Odom are childhood friends.

With Summer 2010 looming, do the superstar players have that friend that will keep them with their home franchises? Do Lebron, Wade, Bosh, and others have a loyalty to their current teams through a teammate? Given the real possibility that the Lakers could repeat, that would mean none of them would win a title; leaving all but Wade without one for yet another year. Camaraderie is important, but the "B" in NBA is more about Business than Basketball. Chemistry and friendship are two different ideals, and I know I'd trade the latter for the former if it meant I'd hoist the Larry O'Brien Trophy in June. "How many of us have them?"

Peace.

FU Graph: Perimeter Player Classification

I'm combining my inner nerd again and I have a new graph for my loyal readers. The last one I did was a breakdown of the 30 teams along the spectrum of conventional/unconventional. For this one, I'll be categorizing the different types of perimeter players on offense. If I had more time, a lot more of my posts would have graphs attached to them. PowerPoint is addictive to a nerd like me. I decided to not give definitions because I expect my readers to know the difference. If you don't, then you should reading which names are where. Anyway, peep the graph below.

The first element of the graph that may be noticed is Kobe's name in the merged center of the Venn diagram. Even though Kobe's a scorer by trade, he remains somewhat efficient with his shots and shot selection. I actually gave long consideration to placing Dirk in the middle of the graph as well. As much grief as I give the Big German, he's turned the silkiness of his jumper into a weapon of mass destruction. I've never seen a player so feared when he rarely sets foot in the paint. He's what Rasheed Wallace should have been his entire career since 'Sheed decided to be strictly perimeter-based. That's enough praise for Nowitzki. Moving on.



What I discovered through my research is that there aren't many "pure" shooters in the NBA. Well, at least there aren't many that are worth mentioning. Once a player becomes labeled as solely a shooter, the other facets of his game—if there are any—are rarely developed. Ray Allen is only a shooter because his jumper is that deadly. He's a scorer at heart, and still attacks the basket. Rashard Lewis poses as a scorer, but we don't feel him (we need something realer). In order to ascend offensively, a player must be a threat off the dribble. More options equals more potency.

The third component of the graph is Tony Parker's name outside of the three circles. That's because Parker is a symbol for the point guards that score, but not really. This includes Rondo, Rose, Miller, and even Billups, Paul and Williams to a degree. Yes, they can score, but they aren't considered scorers. Only Billups as "Mr. Big Shot" has a label of shot-maker. And most of those names have a pretty high FG%, but the perimeter jumper isn't their strong suit. But with not being a part of the graph, point guards are able to float among the periphery of it. They're able to morph into whatever their team needs them to be outside of the distributor and floor leader. Nash's name should probably be among them; but I think he's the easiest to classify among the 1-guards.

As with any post, leave comments and disagreements in the appropriate box. These are my interpretations, meant only to inspire Basketball thought. There will be more graphs to follow.



Peace.

Another One For My Pickup Game Heads

Based on a true story, I took you on a journey through the mind of a Basketball run-stopper in hopes that you will never have to go through that type of pain on the court. Now, I feel like I must explain all the major roles you will see at your local Y, neighborhood blacktop, and campus gym. Some of them you will know from their title, but I guarantee light bulbs will illuminate when reading the description of each character. After the random picture, I re-introduce you to some people you already know.

The Beast...Dog. Everyone knows the guy that is the understood best player on the court. He walks it, he dribbles it, and he lays it up. Among regular people, The Beast is usually a hell of player in high school that plays at the local D-2/Comm. College because of grades. I named these type of hoopers as such because while at Pitt, my crew and I were waiting our turn to get on next. And this J-Rich look-alike (he'll be known as J-Rich in future mentions in this post) says, mid-layup,"I'm a beast...dog." We were dumbfounded. So ever since then, people who were beasts were beasts, dog; but not better than "The Beast...dog."

The Opportunist. This guy is just an average player at best. But what he's good at is latching on and being a part of a five that has a bunch of really good players on it. This way, he stays on the court with minimal effort, and looks great if he does make a play on such a good team. It's similar to whomever was at center during the Phil/Mike/Scottie Bulls. Just be open and let everyone else do the rest.

The Antawn Jamison. Antawn Jamison is quietly one of the more productive players in the Association. Always, at or near 20 points and t0 boards; he continues to remain efficient as he gets older. His trademark is an array of "flip shots" from awkward angles, leaving younger forwards wondering how he's scoring. Every local gym has an older guy that still dominates as his athleticism dwindles. He doesn't jump very high or run very fast; but he's schooling cats on the court with all sorts of hooks, floaters, and fadeaways. Like Jamison, he rarely ever talks unless a teammate makes a bad play. A true veteran presence for any pickup team's five.


The Mike Miller. For this explanation, I have to start with Tracy McGrady. In Orlando, he bacame great friends with Mike Miller. This made Miller impossible to trade because their star player was so attached to him—similar to Steve Francis and Cuttino Mobley. The locl courts have a guy that's cool with everybody. He's very likable, despite his game not being reflective of his personality. He may not be terrible, but he's certainly the weak link. Somehow, he finds his way on someone's team because he's a great guy. This results in your team possibly not being as good as it could be. But hey, at least everyone's smiling.

The Rasheed Wallace. Personally, I believe 'Sheed is the most gifted of that class of power forwards that includes Duncan, KG, Webber, etc. For reasons only known to him, he chooses to be unselfish. It's most evident in the fact that though Wallace has a tremendous shooting touch, his post game is so much better. Yet he seems to want to constantly float around the arc, waiting for kick outs. There's a guy that comes to gyms worldwide that can murder in the paint; yet chooses to shoot jumpers most of the time. In addition to that, he also won't exploit mismatches even though teammates implore him to do so. He plays rather standoffish, contributing when it's convenient for him. It's selfishly being unselfish.

The Desmond Mason. This dude can jump out the gym, but his Basketball IQ is lower than Mateen Cleaves scoring average. Anything that isn't a block or a dunk is a skill he doesn't possess in his Basketball repertoire There's nothing much else that needs to be said. He's a living N.E.R.D. album; or a shark—ether in motion or ineffective. The straight-line dribble is about all The Desmond Mason can do on the ground, with a maximum of one switch-of-hands dribble (read: not a "crossover"). I'll never play with one of those.

If you frequent the courts as often as me, then you know there are many more characters you can find there. Leave some in the comments.

Peace.

Week Six: Rose City Curse

For Week Six, it would be sequential to focus on Iverson's return since Weeks Four and Five were solely focused on the briefly entertained thought of him coming to Madison Square Garden. But there's a much sadder story going on in the Great Northwest that I'd like to spend time and keystrokes on. More after the random picture...

Greg Oden has suffered another knee injury, his third such devastating ailment in his three pro seasons. It occurs just as Oden was making strides in his development. He was lighter and quicker off his feet; and beginning to get more comfortable with his hook shot in the post. Then another setback. It's not just a setback, it's another near-full year he's going to miss. As to be expected, echoes of the "B" word are swirling around his career with more legitimacy. and few believe he'll amount to anything close his #1 overall pick suggests.

There are so many factors working against Oden. Kevin Durant is a superstar and growing, and the Blazers are a pretty good team without him. He even has history as an opponent, as his injuries have conjured up memories of Sam Bowie and Bill Walton. Is there a curse floating around in the Rose City that only attacks big men? And why is Oden looked at with so much expectation?

Even though I maintain that point guard is more important than center in today's NBA, there's no doubt that size equals wonder. It's why we marvel at Dwight Howard. Yet Oden was never labeled as a freak athlete along the lines of D12 and early Amar'e. Hoops fans were intrigued with just how naturally gifted he is at blocking/altering shots--his timing is impeccable. But that question does remain about Oden. No #1 overall has been an All-Star since Howard, and every big man drafted first since Tim Duncan has had his career hindered by whatever reason--whether it's injuries (Yao, Brand and now Griffin) or slower development than expected (Bogut, Bargnani).

Once a big man has received the label of "franchise," expectations of him grow exponentially with less patience. That's the difference between Oden and Blazers' teammate LaMarcus Aldridge. Aldridge can develop more at his own pace since he isn't really seen as the franchise. Some of you may consider Roy to have that franchise tag; and yes, he is by far their best player. But Oden is to be that anchor, that monumental pillar of strength in the paint that would literally solidify them as a championship contender for the next decade. He's to be the Willis Reed to B-Roy's Walt Frazier, Shaq and Kobe-like in the Rose City.

There's also the actual injury itself: broken kneecap. If Stoudemire, Webber, Kidd and Penny weren't the same after microfracture surgery, what will become of Oden when that bone is more than cracked? This is the latest mental hurdle the deceptively charismatic Oden must overcome. There will be countless doubters and naysayers that will say his career is over before it has truly started. As Portland is currently constructed, they don't need him to be an offensive priority. His defensive prowess will be there. He's not DJ Mbenga.

Honestly, labeling Oden a bust is premature and slightly cruel. He's steadily increasing in productivity, and has displayed the willingness to do whatever it takes for him to be dominant. Since he doesn't rely on freakish athleticism, he can still be the force on defense and work on his ever-improving touch. At 23, he's younger than Dwight Howard and further along offensively. Despite his facial features and hair, he has youth on his side. Remember, Kwame Brown and Olowokandi played whole seasons and are terrible. Give Oden a chance.

Peace.

Weeks Four & Five: A Dream Deferred

It was to be the Greatest FU Post Never Written. But for the fourth (and fifth) installment of the FU's version of "Week In Review," I decided to compose the post that would have been had dreams come true. Peep after the random picture...

Rumors of my all-time favorite player coming to my favorite team stirred my Basketball Soul in a way a Carmelo move off his jab step could never do. And even with his skills visibly diminishing—except, it seems, to him—Iverson to the Knicks would have literally been the Best of My Worlds. Each time I tuned into an MSG broadcast, my fandom would have been in perfect harmony. I know he isn't at the height of his powers, but his ginsu-style crossover is still fatal. He probably would have donned his #3, and fans would immediately hope he purged any remaining evils that haunted Coney Island's Finest. He could have provided the go-to scoring a young Knicks team lacks; as well as a buzz among Knicks Nation.

But it's not about any of that. It's about me. Those two ideals have been halted from fusing together. But even with that, the realist in me can't ignore the other side to this story—the side I somewhat acknowledged in a previous Iverson post. As much as I would have enjoyed seeing Iverson in New York, it would have always been bittersweet due to the circumstances his signing would have been under. This is where Iverson's career has led him. Labeled as a malcontent, and an unusable gun. He's the anti-Bob McAdoo that can't find employment; even with franchises looking for hope like the Grizzlies and Knicks. It's always tough to see a once-great struggle with near-mediocrity. But when it's someone that molded your very philosophy of the sport, that sympathy is magnified infinitely. It's like watching my ideals embark on a never ending quest for someone to accept them as truth. Iverson is longing for that belief fans of his held onto when his diminutive frame felled giants with reckless abandon. It doesn't look like it exists anymore.

Perhaps, it is for the best that my favorite player did not join my favorite team. Even if the Answer had found his solution at Madison Square Garden, he would still look out of sorts in that white, blue, and orange. It would have jibed with my Basketball Soul like a dope Jazzanova record. There would have been a bunch of elements going on; but it would have worked somehow. However, seeing him attempt to rescue the Knicks from futility would have been both heroic and pathetic. Could he have done it? Maybe. But to me, it probably isn't worth risking slightly tarnishing his Hall Of Fame legacy for a franchise waiting on the future. Still, it was nice to dream; if only for a moment.



Peace.

Two Weeks In: Four-Guard Monty

I liked the Melo post after his titanic dunk in the first week of the season so much that I'll try to have a weekly installment as the season moves along. For week two, FU highlights a few fledgling floor generals making early impacts. Take that, Ricky Rubio. More after the random picture...

In Denver, there's a roadrunner speeding up and down the court in the Rocky Mountains the same way that Looney Tunes' bird evaded Wile E. Coyote through the canyons. Lawson can learn from Billups, and George Karl will allow him to maintain that frenetic pace he mastered at Chapel Hill. It also helps that the Nuggets have no other offensive option off their bench (I count JR Smith as a starter). Joey Graham in Denver's swingman normally means a team is lacking along the perimeter. Lawson is like the "change-of-pace" running back--like what Darren Sproles is to LaDainian Tomlinson. He's impossible to keep out of the paint, and has a better jumper than previously scouted. We'll see if he climbs that plateau that hovers over fellow UNC point guard Raymond Felton's game.

Moving further west, in the midst of Sacramento's futility is a gem of a combo guard in Tyreke Evans. "Team Tyreke" is 6'7" with point guard skills and a scorer's arsenal of moves. Evans appears to be everything hoops fans were hoping Shaun Livingston would be before that freakishly devastating knee injury. Some questioned his early jump to the NBA, but it seems the new crop of young floor generals seem to have an inner belief in their abilities that scouts can't measure. It helps that he's on a young team that has talent, but not that impact player with superstar potential. Kevin Martin's good, but he's along the same plane as Ben Gordon. He scores really well, and does little else. Evans is a game-changer on many levels. The big question will be if he can bring the Kings' franchise back to relevance.

In the Twin Cities, Jonny Flynn has allowed the Timberwolves to forget about Ricky Rubio and his decision to stay overseas. Flynn has also won the starting job from Game One, relishing free agent acquisition--and underrated point guard--Ramon Sessions to the backup role. To me, Flynn was the better pick than Rubio anyway because he's stronger, a better defender, and tougher. He was somewhat of an insurance policy that turned into a key franchise piece to build around Al Jefferson. Like Evans, Minnesota's obscurity makes it hard for Flynn to be noticed. But how ever under the radar his start to the season is, he is producing.

This brings me to the main attraction; the reason behind this post. Of course, I'm talking about Mr. "3-guard" himself: Brandon Jennings. He has done everything but chisel his name on the Rookie of the Year trophy, and it's only been two weeks. He has an uncanny knack for using screens, and is the best at it other than Paul, Williams (Deron), and Nash. Yes, already. But I'd like to focus on his moxie. Whether you agree or disagree with his choice to eschew college, no one can deny the impact it's had on his mental toughness. Playing in Italy forced Jennings to grow up quickly; and he had to hang on to his inner belief in himself. It's that type of confidence that intrigues me about him. He was barely getting minutes; yet still somehow knew he would not just play in the NBA, but be extremely effective. Jennings' situation combines elements from the previous three I mentioned. Like Evans to the Kings, he goes to a team starving for a star. Like Lawson in Denver, he gets to learn from a tough, experienced point guard (Head Coach Scott Skiles, not Luke Ridnour). And like Minnesota, the Bucks just aren't that good of a team; so Jennings gets to play significant minutes in insignificant games.

Jennings is the kind of point guard that's indefensible. He's unpredictable. Once he clears the pick, the floor becomes a myriad of options for him and his teammates. And somehow, the Knicks couldn't find a use for a player like that. You better be good, Toney Douglas.

With these four rookies, in addition to the other young lead guards in the Association (Rondo, Rose, etc.), it's becoming clearer by the day that point guard is now the most important position in the NBA. It was evident once Jameer Nelson went down with injury last year. And if anyone can't see the wizardry Chris Paul has done with the Hornets the past two seasons, then they must believe that Mo Peterson and Devin Brown are underrated. These point guard battles will be fun to watch for the next decade. Oh, Jennings should have kept the flat top.



Peace.

One Week In: The Warning From the Peak

Wow. Just...wow. One week into the season and we have an early announcement from the mountaintops of the Basketball Realm: Carmelo Anthony has arrived. Some may be thinking, "He's already been an all-star and is respected as one of the Elite players in the Association." That's true; but you know how I do it here at FU. My definition is a little different. It shall be explained after the random picture...

Before I get to Melo, my explanation must begin with Lebron. Prior to Lebron becoming the best player in the world, he was facing the same barrier two years ago. Then, in that epic seven-game series against the Celtics, he rose and threw one down over KG--the Defensive Player of the Year. Ever since, Lebron has been a different, meaner animal on the court; and it has taken a lot for teams to beat him, especially in the postseason. Yes, Lebron has already reached an NBA Finals and never faced a first-round exit. But that dunk on KG symbolized something more than just two points—more than just momentum in that game. It was a personal truth that he will forever hold self-evident.

Last season, Dwyane Wade was forced to reannounce his might. Coming off two injury-plagued seasons after Flash-ing his superpowers against the Mavs in the '06 Finals, people in South Beach and all around the NBA began to lose faith in their hero. But then, straight out of Marvel Comics, he harnessed his inner strength and emerged a new, better Flash. Last March, against his hometown team, Wade makes a steal and hits a running buzzer-beater three. The play in itself would have been enough, but the resulting leap onto the scorers' table and emphatic proclamation of "This is my house!" makes it that much more impactful. It was as if Wade was sick of all the doubt, the rumors of his demise—of his flaws. He needed to reassert himself as pillar of Awesome, and that table was his platform to do so.

So what can Melo attribute to this breakthrough and discovery of an even greater source of his abilities? Like most things in life, it's a combination of ingredients. Part of it is from watching Kobe's shinobi-like work ethic in Beijing. Part of it is due to losing the team war to the Mamba's Lakers in the Western Conf. Finals, despite winning the individual battle ('Melo bullied Kobe all over the court). The question that is begged is: Why did he proclaim "I'm back?" Few, if anyone, have doubted his offensive abilities. So why did he decide to yell that? I don't know him personally, but this is my assessment: "I'm back," wasn't the whole statement. He hasn't returned from anywhere other than the offseason. It was more like he was saying, "I'm back, meaner than ever." Anthony, to me, was letting the rest of the Basketball Realm know that his nickname will no longer be linked to his game. He will be a force on the grandest of magnitudes from this point forward. The scream wasn't a taunt meant to embarrass Paul Millsap, or a showboating gesture. Melo was simply saying that there's a new fire that burns inside of him; and it will take a hell of a lot for him to be defeated. Beware, NBA.



Peace.