Three Weeks In: In Thee Face!

We've reached the third week of the NBA season, and unlike college hoops, the offense is ahead of defense. A good portion of that has to do with the small yet significant fact that 97% of NBA players don't play defense. But at least at the early onset of this season, offensive players are taking defenders challenging at the rim a little more personally. They're attacking, and attacking with malice in their hearts. This begs the question: why is everybody dunking on everybody?

I understand that posters are a part of the game; and that they happen pretty much on a nightly basis. After all, there's a site dedicated to the meeting at the summit of the rim. But it just seems that these dunks are much more meaningful—more disrespectful. There are dunks, and then there are posters that are very rude and could end friendships. The early part of this season has had a lot of the latter—for reasons I cannot explain. I understood the mentality behind Melo's dunk because he's one of the few star players that has something to "prove." But the others...I just don't know what or why those deserved that emotional abuse. Except for...

Mr. Varejao aka "Sideshow Bob" aka "Carlito," I know why he deserved to be dunked on by His Wadeness. He is a notorious flopper and annoyance in the paint. He routinely violates two Hoop Commandments. He's seven feet tall and takes charges instead of using his length; and always tries to take said charges when defending a fast break. That was the one time he wanted to be tall and he failed because he isn't used to it. I have no sympathy for him. You are forever in the Wade highlight reel with your feet over your head and your ridiculous hair flopping around. Take that.

I'm going to set aside a paragraph for the man with the best disc jockey name that no one can use: DJ Mbenga. Fun fact: Mbenga is well-versed in the Martial Arts. Well, I guess self-defense doesn't aid one in interior defense because highflyers are challenging him above the rim with reckless abandon. Not-so-gradually, he's becoming the new Shawn Bradley. Or, he's Dikembe Mutombo without the resume to worry about being dunked on. One has to admire his determination, but also frown on his low success rate. You can even give him the benefit of the doubt and excuse the Rudy Gay & Blake Griffin posters; seeing those two have rocket boosters in their legs and rise well above the backboard square. However, where I draw the line is when DMV product Ty Lawson rose on DJ like it was an insult for Mbenga to do even be near the rim. It wasn't quite KJ on Olajuwon, but it had the "In De Face!" factor that Iverson on Camby lacks.

These dunks—from Melo to Will Bynum—are a collective statement that interior defense is not like it used to be. Someone put Hasheem Thabeet on alert.



Peace.

Superhero Mindstate

I have been away for awhile. I had dropped off a post about which Beltway player will get a ring first over at BeltwaySportsPage. Had to support the DMV movement.

So this year's Finals, like in recent years, have been anti-climactic. The Orlando bandwagon is all but empty; and even if you believe the Magic will stave off elimination tonight, most will agree that Kobe will end it at Staples in Game 6. But this post isn't about the series; or Kobe's validation with a championship, or how Lebron's still numero uno despite the Mamba's impending ring (foreshadowing to a future post). It's actually a journey into the mind of the elite player and how he approaches a big game/series. More after the random picture goodness...

You see, the reason why the Elite are the Elite, aside from being supernaturally gifted, is their intrinsic ability to rise when situations are most pressurized. Very rarely will the Elite play terribly when his team needs him the most. Now this doesn't necessarily mean that they will win everytime—as evidenced by Lebron's play against the Magic—but it will take the perfect storm from the opposition in order for the Elite to be defeated. But there's a process before the Elite decides to unleash his ultimate fury. If you're still with me, the first level is after the second random picture...

Observation State. If you play Basketball, regardless of level, then you are aware of the "feel-out" process that happens at the beginning of each game. The intensity isn't as high, and the tempo's a little slower than normal. People are still trying to loosen up get into the flow of the game. In this situation, the Elite will not force the issue offensively. Rather, he will sit back and attempt to get his teammates involved and into the game. This usually applies to perimeter, isolation-type players as opposed to big men. Post players always need a pass, but even they can decide to look opposite and dish out of double teams, or do this to set the tone. Now, the Elite's initial deferment does not mean he's isn't aggressive. It just means that he won't take those impossible shots that mere mortals wouldn't dare try, at home or otherwise. The Elite will remain in the Observational State as long as he feels his team doesn't need his heroics just yet. Then, he makes his progression to the next mental state...

Assimilation State. In the Assimilation State, the Elite will begin to assert himself offensively. He knows that his team will need his amazing abilities, regardless of whether the team is ahead or behind. He'll start breaking sets and looking for more isolation opportunities. He won't shoot every possession, but he will try to get himself in a rhythm on offense for the latter parts of the game/series. He will see how and where the extra defenders are, which way they play him off the pick-and-roll, and how much space the initial defender gives him on various parts of the floor. He gathers all this information he has collected and analyzes it at halftime/when the series' scene shifts. He then reaches the next mental state...

Weapon State. Every team makes adjustments at halftime/when the series changes arenas. The Elite will see if these changes will greatly deter the plan of attack he has created. If not, then thre's a smooth transition to the fourth mental state. But if the Elite is forced to somewhat rethink his plan, he then briefly retreats back and combines both the Assimilation and Observation states and just plays a "regular game." There may be some scoring, there may be some assisting. but he will be more aggressive and look to begin bending the game to his will. On to the fourth mental state.

Destruction State. At some point, the Elite will have enough of the opposition believing it has a chance of victory, and he will begin to go all Super Saiyan. It's at this point that all jokes will cease; and the elite will show why he his vastly better than the billions of people that have ever picked up a basketball. The second half of Kobe's "81" game, Wade in 2006, and Lebron in Game 7 last year are all examples of the Elites of the game unleashing their full fury. This can lead to some gaudy stats at the end of the game, as well as the overstanding of why they are who we thought they were...word to Dennis Green. And even while the Destruction State will usually result in victory for the Elite, there is yet another, more devastating region in the Elite's psyche that only surfaces during the Destruction State.

Oblivion. While in the Destruction State, the Elite has come to the conclusion that he will not be defeated without using all of his powers to prevent it. But the moment, the Steve Buckhantz "dagger" that is the final blow, is what Oblivion is. The Elite, like all great assassins, recognize that a killing blow must always be delivered. It doesn't necessarily have to be a game-winning shot or a dunk; but it's always a play that only the Elite can make. It's a play that is a microcosm entitled, "I'm Than You: You Know It, I Know It." If you need a visual example, it's all of the plays in the "Where Will Amazing Happen?" ads that ran throughout the playoffs. Those are the moments that leave the opposition in a state of head-scratching shock, followed by deflated acceptance.

So there you have it. That's the journey through the mind of an Elite player. Bear in mind that in some instances, the Elite will go immediately into the Destruction State; but the path to it usually follows the aforementioned methods. Remember that as you watch those players throughout their careers.


Peace.

The Flash Needs A New Nickname

If you haven't noticed by now, whether it's because of the Heat's recent obscurity or because you're now blinded by Lebron's powder-laced might, Dwyane Wade is back to Flash form. He, like Lebron, has added muscle mass while keeping the same spring in his legs; evident by his tendency to be a 6'4" help-side swatting machine. I have no problem with his on-the-court abilities except for one. To me, despite Wade's superhero basketball abilities, he's still, well, boring. If that raised an eyebrow or two, you know where to meet me...

As stated above, I am amazed by his game.  However, his effortlessness is both a basketball virtue and a public detrement.  He performs in every play with practically a straight face, as if exerting unnecessary emotion is beneath him.  His clean-cut, golden boy persona has garnered money bags from the heavy-hitters in endorsements, but it seems that his popularity is massive, it isn't on the level of Lebron, Kobe, Dwight Howard or even Melo and Arenas.

Now this is based on my observations, but Wade doesn't have the "street cred" of a Melo, in the same way that Kobe couldn't reach the inner city popularity of Allen Iverson.  As written in the FreeDarko book (I'm paraphrasing), "Kobe leads in jersey sales; but Iverson would get the most crowd faints walking down the street."  The twist in this theory is that Wade's upbringing is anything but silver-spooned.  I believe the disconnect lies in his demeanor.  Even though he has some semi-humorous commercials, he doesn't portray the same charisma that Lebron does.  His smile doesn't emit the same wattage as Melo's or Dwight Howard's.  Even when he screams, it isn't as intimidating as some of his counterparts'.  I don't know exactly why, but even though he strikes fear in the hearts of defenders, his presence isn't daunting.  Wade isn't bland, just calm.  His display of emotions, whether aggressiveness or playfulness, seems a little more forced than Lebron's, even if nothing could be further from his actual truth.

 One factor in gaining street cred is the way one approaches the game of basketball.  Other than the moments he displays his superiority, his game is far from his DC Comics nickname.  The footwork on his jumper is flawless, and he has an affinity for the backboard.  The structure of his approach doesn't translate to the free-spiritedness of the blacktop.  Example, what would be practiced more, a Steve Nash pass or a Wade step-back jumper?  While street cred isn't necessary for most to appreciate players like Wade, it does keep them from being placed above the Association's stratosphere.

Fledgling stars like Danny Granger, Brandon Roy, and Devin Harris have the talent to place them among the elites in the current Association, but of this moment lack the off-court presence to be idolized in a way that their respective games demand.  They may be in your next Gatorade ad, but will have deity just out of their reach.  I'm not sure if Wade is to blame, or if it traces to Kobe, or before him.  But flash over substance has always been the montra among casual fans.  In the Justice League of The Association, where Lebron is Superman and Kobe is The Dark Knight, Dwyane Wade isn't The Flash; but rather The Green Lantern.  An unassuming, structured-but-unique, third-best player in the world, pillar of strength that while he may not every young hooper aspiring to be him, he's still essential to the NBA Universe.  And he will render opposers powerless by his calm but destructive hand.

Peace.