French Furniture

Sportsfans,

I feel so old media, the way every time I pick up my pointer finger to start typing, it’s already been covered, re-covered, and thoroughly digested. Nonetheless, allow me to ponder some recent events.

Richard Jefferson.

Amazing deal for the Spurs. AND they got DeJuan Blair (whose name my brother and I were calling every time Stern stepped to the podium for picks 19 through 30). Now, this comment may bring Brickowski out of retirement, but I have to wonder how much of the Spurs’ “genius” is simply taking advantage of other teams’ stupidity. Like,

1) You don’t NOT take a chance on DeJuan Blair’s knees if you’re a non-lottery team in a pretty weak draft.

2) If you are John Hammond, don't you at least have to throw in Charlie Bell's contract or get a draft pick or SOMETHING to let your fans know you are asleep at the wheel? I'm so f'ing sick of the 'alluring 2010 offseason 'I could vomit up fishbones. Beyond the top three 2010 FAs on this list (Bosh, LBJ, Wade--the former of which are not going anywhere anyway), is there ANY body that you would want your team to throw Rashard Lewis money at? Most of these guys have are gonna be old or have a history of injuries. And any now-monetarily satiated star who is slightly appealing (e.g. Dirk) isn't going to be looking to play in Milwaukee or Minnesota...they're gonna be looking to go somewhere to get a ring.

In sum, the Spurs are now better than the Nuggets and a hair worse than the Lakers, who are right now the best team in the West.

Blake Griffin

Not much to say here, just wanted to make the prediction that he will be better than Durant and Beasley. Probably Carmelo too. Seems to be the first forward since LeBron to come into the league with a legit NBA frame. I'm sure B-Diddy will break out his good legs for this season. Am excited.

Ricky Rubio

First off, as a Wolves fan, I'm angry. This is personal-not-business. The draft has left me with a clawed-at scalp, and a head full of worries, one of which is that Ty Lawson will haunt us for years to come. On Rubio, I want to give sincere thanks to Canis Hoopus for writing this so I don't have to. Everyone take a second to go read it. No, seriously, take a look at it...Now that that's over with, let's talk about another angle on how this story is being covered/manufactured/facilitated. You know it's bad when you have to rely on Jay Mariotti to land the few big punches and point to what is the critical issue here. It's race. In his essential FCKYOU to the dream of so many inner city kids and farm boy hayseeds, Ricky Rubio is being coddled, practically ENCOURAGED by ESPN to seek a trade, to make demands, to act like he has played one goddam nanosecond of American ball.

Mariotti brings up Eli Manning and John Elway. Good start, but they (a) had college resumes to back up their trade demands, and (b) ended up talking the talk. What about Jamarcus Russell, Cedric Benson...how about Steve Francis? You think they got this sort of treatment when they made their childish demands? Hell no. And they were already proven commodities in the US!

I mean, Rubio skipped out on the Wolves first press conference. Can you imagine if TO skipped out on the Bills voluntary workouts! That would have been news! Oh wait, it was! What Rubio is doing with his passive/aggressive trade angling and failure to commit to the Wolves is as bad as Kobe/Shaq/Marbury/Cassell/etc. trade demands...except it's WORSE. He is an unproven commodity and he is shitting on the American Dream.

Thanks ESPN/athletes for keeping mid-market teams hostage!

Shaquille O’Neal

...which brings me to Shaq, or instead LeBron. Talk about keeping mid-market teams hostage, and that is LeBron's daily operation. Instead of committing to Cleveland once and for all, he forces Danny Ferry's shaky hand to getting the Big Situation Room, who at this point is simply a coach-killing token that allows Ferry to say, "Look Bron! Look how much we want to keep you around! We got a top 50 player for you!" Getting Shaq is about as good as any other Danny Ferry move: admirable on paper, questionable during playoff time, always the scapegoat after the Cavs are ousted.

I am also pissed (on behalf of Cavs fans) for how much this is a gut reaction to losing out to Dwight Howard in particular (with Shaq, oddly, poised to be playing the role of Dwight-Howard-stopper). Did they forget that the reason they lost was because Turkoglu and Lewis got ridiculously hot, and Mo Williams forgot to show up every other game?

A logical response would be to attain more shooters because in this day and age, LeBron effectively IS Shaq. Nah, eff that. He is a better Shaq than Shaq. He occupies space in the lane and can attract double teams (which Shaq no longer can), and is a better passer than Shaq. How about Ferry gives Milwaukee a call and see if Hammond wants to complete that rebuilding project by dumping Michael Redd?

Too much blood has been spilled on this topic already, but I had to say my piece.

Kevin Love

Now I'm as much of a hater on Twitter's media coverage as there. I hate the Time cover, the slacktivism behind thinking we're doing anything on Twitter to aid the Iran situation, the smug "look at our bourgeoise generation talking about talking about talking about" angle to every trend piece on the topic of Twitter, but I have to be real: K-Love’s Twitter is changing my life, or at least the way I follow sports. I swore I would never “follow” a celebrity, but when he aired the McHale news, I gave it a shot. And now... well, given my Wolves’ allegiance, I mean this is like watching Twin Peaks and being able to get a phone call from Dale Cooper every now and then to see what he’s thinking. Incredible stuff.

Toss Off Those Glittery Outlaws

So that's how I found myself in the position of reputationally damaging one of my favorite players.

On Saturday, when the sun should've been setting and I should've been buying chicken broth, I ended up having an impassioned phone conversation with Chris Littmann over those Jennings/Budden tapes. I hadn't taped them off the original camera feed, or put them on message boards, hip-hip with a trace of Knicks, in the first place. But we were in a position to, as the kids say, blow up his spot in a major way. The question was, how to do so without coming over as prudish, judgmental asses who don't actually like getting to hear players really, truly be themselves.

I think we—well, actually, Chris—did a good job softening, or ambiguifying, the blow. But the fact remains: The Baseline, formerly known as the mainstream media outlet most devoted to Jennings cheerleading (and Rubio-hating), was now spearheading the movement to get out some quotes that, in the hands of the stupid, would further tarnish Jennings's already tricky image. In the past, I'd resisted putting up incriminating Twits, Here, though, I thought of throwing these videos up on FD before the whole prospect of going platinum with them came up. For anyone with half a brain, or half a clue as to how NBA players—especially an outspoken nut like Jennings—would talk in a "safe" situation, these are gold.

Are there people too foolish, or walled-in, to not catch the obviously whiff of absurdity and playfulness in everything Jennings says here? Of course. Should I spend my whole journalistic life dancing around these assholes with kid feet? I don't want to. To me, Jennings follows naturally from Beasley or Arenas, both of whom are distant descendents of Muhammad Ali. They talk. We listen. They do or don't back it up. But we listen because we know they might.

The reason we ultimately went big-time with the story was the abrupt cover-up/misunderstanding/Twitter shutdown surrounding it. As Chris said in his post, we like seeing this side of players. But it's not clear the players themselves have really thought this "people want to see the real me" thing through all that well. Most importantly, are they supposed to be showing us the edgy outskirts of their public persona, or the first shores of who they really are? That is, are Twitter, or presumably ephemeral, semi-private (if you don't know. . . ) camera feeds, meant for the hardcore fans who just want more, more, more content, and will tolerate some rough edges—or those so in tune with the player that they actually "get" them?



It's clear that ballers understand the marketing potential of Twitter, and recognize the authenticity factor contained therein. But again, are they supposed to just do them, and let the interested public see a little, or learn a whole new set of rules for how to reveal layers of their persona that are off-limits in press conferences without having to stage a Cultural Translation 101 seminar on the internet? Check out the Wade Twits in the Baseline post. Hard to see these utterances as anything other than Wade ignoring the public, or figuring anyone watching his Twitter exists in some sort of idealized fan vacuum. Either way, the question of audience, and public presentation, has gone out the window. That must be liberating—not just to get to say whatever, but to know there's an audience for it. But exactly waht "say anything" means remains to be seen.

As we can see from the deletion of Jennings's Twitter, it's not like agents know exactly how to deal with this newfound questions of real/too real. By its very nature, athlete social media should push the envelope a little. Remember Arenas's blog, anyone? However, that was far more mediated, vetted, and no matter how renegage it seemed at the time, a so-called "underground" version of the Arenas emerging in the press. What Jennings or Wade is saying here is irreconcilable with their mainstream personas. It forces us to acknowledge who these players might really be—a "real" that's only terrifying if you're incapable of reading "fuck the Knicks" as anything other than an off-hand joke.

So consider this a challenge not to players, but to fans, the media, and agencies. These guys want to put themselves out there. Clearly, it's seen as an opportunity for them to be themselves, in a way that the strictures of modern marketing doesn't allow for. How to reconcile this behavior with the vanilla image that moves real money? Where's the ledge? Amidst all the juvenile finger-wagging that will spring up around these Jennings comments, I want to know what's next: What happens to those of us who want to hear raw and uncut Brandon?



LIke I said after these broke, if only Jennings had cleaned up his language a little bit, this could've been viral gold and an absolute marketing coup if the plan is to sell his Hollywood persona as something for the next generation. As it is, we're plunged right back into some of the most tired culture wars, or even clash of basketball civilizations. When that clucking clears away, though, it's up to young players and their management to figure out the new rules for unfiltered interaction with their public. At least that way, maybe the rest of the world can learn the difference between Jennings acting out and the rookie PG really sowing the seeds of discontent.

Post-script worth noting: It appears (from what we're hearing) that Brandon himself pulled the Twitter page. Maybe it was reactionary, preparing for the worst from all other parties involved. But certainly, this indicates that even this most "naive" of social media doyens realizes he needs to regroup and figure out what balance to strike.

(Working slowly toward a Suns post. Maybe we'll wait to see if it actually goes down.)

You Take All You Can

Last night was totally discombobulating and snuck up on me, weird-wise, like various things that kill you. After it was all over, I tore out my teeth trying to decide if I liked the possible Amare-to-GSW trade, and realized in the process that my very being was at stake. So that's a longer post that will get written over the weekend.

In the meantime, here's 1,000 words on the Jennings/Rubio screenplay as of right now.

We Live in Crazy Times

Draft coverage starts in 35 minutes, and I gotta head home, so I don't miss any essential Jay Bilas moments. Shoals will be Covering It Live over at the Baseline, and I'll be getting all a-Twitter (ha! bet no one's ever used that one before!).

If you're looking for something to do between picks, you could do worse than downloading this polka track from legendary free jazz saxophonist Frank Wright.

Also, don't forget to listen to the latest podcast, which will soon be rendered meaningless, if it wasn't already.

O Darkest Night

Below please find some amazing links, and the latest podcast.

-Earlier posts here, on draft fashion psychoanalysis and important details culled from past telecasts.

-My virulent, FD-friendly, reaction to the Shaq trade.

-Joey, after being crucified for his NY-centrism, has decided to change horses and look to the Wolves that could be.

-On the latest FD Presents: The Disciples of Clyde NBA Podcast, Dan, The Recluse, Eric (Ty Keenan), and myself attempt to talk about the draft, and instead spend almost 20 minutes trying to say something about the Bucks. Performance at its finest.



Songs:

Soundgarden - “Outshined”
What Made Milwaukee Famous - “Resistance St.”
Gang Starr - “Just to Get a Rep”
Deerhoof - “Whither the Invisible Birds?”
Man or Astroman? - “Principles Unknown”
Peanut Butter Wolf and Charizma - “Devotion ‘92″

If you want to settle down and make a serious commitment, try iTunes and the XML feed.

Social Studies Was Fun

If you haven't already, read Shoals's analysis of the 2009 Draft portraits.

Over the last three days, I've spent each morning watching old drafts on NBA TV. Please enjoy these remembrances, observations, and lost moments from years past:

- Bob Neal, in 1991: "If Bill Walton wrote the book on big-men passing, Luc Longley probably read it." Unfortunately, he relied on Cliff's Notes for the rest of the coursework in Intro to Walton Studies.

- Hubie Brown, in the same year: "... Atlanta, with their small forwards and their need for a shooter." It's nice to know that, no matter how many things change in the league, certain teams remain as dependable as ever.

- Brian Williams/Bison Dele's dad was in The Platters. Not an original member, but still important.

- It's widely known that Greg Anthony is a conservative (though he endorsed Obama), but did you know that he was vice chairman of the Nevada Young Republicans while at UNLV? How does this affect what we know about the Runnin' Rebels reputation, both on-court and off?



- The 1992 Draft opened with extended Shaq highlights set to "Love Shack," a pairing that unfortunately never caught on. Also, there was apparently talk of Shaq not signing and sitting out a year, which, however far-fetched it seems now, says something about his personality. He never denied the possibility in his interview with Sager.

- If you want evidence that, for all their humor, these drafts are incredibly painful to watch, try listening to four people talk for three minutes about Reggie Lewis's health just a year before he died.

- The most important thing I learned this week: in the early 90s, they played "Thus Spake Zarathustra" after approximately half of the draft picks.



- JR Rider: "Other than that, I'm a perfect man in society."

- Jalen Rose carried a 3.4 GPA at Michigan. And remember, he was the only one involved in the Michigan scandal who wasn't listed as having received payments. We had a moral stalwart in our midst and didn't even know it.

- For a Warriors fan, watching them take Adonal Foyle over McGrady is very depressing. But not as depressing as learning that Todd Fuller's strength was "free-throw shooting." If you're curious, he shot 67% from the line in his career.

- Kobe filmed a short piece giving T-Mac advice on how to adjust to the NBA. If you removed the names, you would think it'd been filmed this season.

- The commentators couldn't even get excited about the 2000 Draft. Incidentally, Rick Majerus was way better on these broadcasts than I remember.

- In 2002, Nikoloz Tskitishvili was asked about his ballet training. His response: "It's more national folk dance. In Georgia, we dance with knives and bullets in our inside pockets."



- Kenny Smith thinks Brazilians speak Spanish.

- If you can, try to remember that Kiki Vandeweghe addressed Nuggets season ticket-holders in a ski lodge, telling them that Skita, Nene, Camby, and Mark Jackson were going to be the foundation of their team for years to come. Except he paused for applause after every name, as if he were an emcee introducing a performer by listing well-known accomplishments. All the while, men lurked in the background, half-hiding behind walls. Someone get this on YouTube!

- Chris Wilcox went right before Amar'e, but that's not the weird part: Wilcox was supposed to be what Amar'e became, and STAT was going to be "another Ben Wallace." There has never been a less accurate comparison of styles.

- A viewer email asked Barkley how the language barrier would affect Yao Ming. Why would you ever ask Barkley that question?

- After every pick in every draft, without fail, Hubie Brown explained the pick in terms of the team's summer personnel decisions. Sometimes this worked, but it also produced wondrous moments, like when he said the Sixers took Jiri Welsch because Corie Blount was a free agent.

You've Got The Look!

I always thought these things came out after the draft, but here these are. Okay, so maybe they always come out beforehand; perhaps I didn't notice until this year because so much is unsettled, so many players looking to define themselves amidst the din, that such images matter more than usual. Anyway, here's my cursory do/don't take on these, with apologies to Billups:



For someone so gangly on the court, Thabeet, unlike most seven-footers, sure knows how to look natural in the suit. He also has a face that looks like it could be put on a normal-sized person, a big plus when it comes to centers seeming human. The guy even shrugs and grins naturally, effortlessly, in a way that puts you at ease. This is wholesome point guard territory, not the usual awkward weirdo introvert.Counterbalance all that on-court scouting, now no one will whisper when he goes top three. For hell's sake, what other big man can drape a sweater over his shoulders without looking like a demonic scarecrow?



Everyone else is trying to tell us who they are, or really are, or want us to think they really are, with these shots. Ricky Ricky could give a fuck less about that. This is all about "how will I like in a fashion shoot" or "am I paparazzi worthy," maybe even "imagine this billboard over Times Square." Because see, Rubio isn't a person, he's an icon, a cute little sensation waiting to, however briefly, make an NBA city feel like it's the center of the basketball world. If that ugly-ass dude who is always on the Clippers could bag a model, imagine what kind of arm-candy this guy will come up with? You other kids get sneaker contracts; he's busy moving Armani.



Life is all about stark contrasts. Here's Rubio's arch-rival, humorless, smile-less, and without frivolity, dressed up just enough to show you he knows he, dressed down to show you he will roll up those sleeves and get to work. That expression says STRICTLY BUSINESS, and he's even hiding the ball in a non-flamboyant way. "My name is Brandon, and I control the rock." This shot also makes you believe he's just a weird-looking dude, not a teen still growing into his face. It's all gaze, no market, just the portrait of a player who wants respect. Which is overdoing it, of course, since this shit about him falling to #20 is just a Masonic conspiracy.



They say Jrue Holiday isn't ready. They say he only looks good on paper. The answer? Make him look a very sensitive golem emerging from a long lunch break in the void of un-being. I hope that's a satisfactory explanation.



Jordan Hill is just trying to figure it all out.



You know the ultimate mark of either a very young athlete or a total mama's boy? When they can't rock an outfit without looking like someone else picked it out for them. It also doesn't help that DeRozan, who is going to get drafted based on athleticism, looks like he's running for student body president of Dead Person University. No color? No expression but that wan grin? I don't even believe this guy can move. Or maybe I'm reading it all wrong, and that's the point: Seriousness and composure, to preempt all the "jump out the gym" talk. Even something resembling a wrap-around pass. Hidden secrets. Unknown pleasures. Whatever the last Joy Division album is called.



First of all, I own that same outfit. But not the socks. I like the socks, and think that's the next frontier of NBA fashion. That said, Curry looks perfectly comfortable and convincing until you get to the point of contact between his hand and the ball. NOT A GOOD SIGN. If he's going to be anything more than a friendly catch-and-shoot fella, he could at least look like he sometimes takes the ball out at night and does tricks in front of the mirror. . . in that outfit. That's what the people want.



Does Hansbrough mean to be wearing exactly what Adam Morrison rocked in 2006?

Collapse in Reverse

Read the official FD Mock!

You don't need to warn me about the perils of drafting based on potential—what it seems like a player might be able to do one day. I have both been seduced by, and gotten endless mileage out of, this rotting cliche of NBA scouting. There's a distinction to be made, which I've done several times and don't feel like doing again, between "might be able to do" and "could be the kind of player who might be able to do." But while the latter is more immediately compelling, it's not like the former is more empirically sound, just not so utterly Romantic or suspended in a dream-like state not unlike religious conversion.

So it is with great trepidation that I seek to advance a serious scouting theory based on a hypothetical. However, since seeing that Brandon Jennings Euromix, I've been thinking about a line I've heard, and read, in several places: roughly, "there's just no one else in the draft who can do the things he can." The legend of Ricky Rubio aside, Jennings's slippery, high-speed trickery with the ball is an asset that just can't be ignored. Jennings is accused of showboating, streetball, next Marbury, and all the usual. But as a passer and facilitator, Jenning's game isn't bullshit, it's the kind of Nash/Paul skill that could pull together an entire offense in this PG-friendly (or -centric, you choose) era. And Jennings doesn't merely have great vision. When it comes to this one, rarefied aspect of the game, he can hang with anyone in the league.



If you don't believe me, ask Stephen Curry, speaking to Chris over at The Baseline:

CL: Tell me what you thought of Jennings. Everywhere he's going, he seems to be leaving a trail of fire, one way or another, like what he said about Rubio for example. Tell me what he was like as a player and what he was like as a person.

SC: As a player, he's very quick. You don't know exactly what he's going to do. He's got an unconventional style about him where you think he's going one way and he'll throw back between the legs and go another way. He's tough to guard because he keeps his dribble active and looks for open spots on the floor. He definitely is a solid point guard. I think his season in Italy really helped him develop going against physical guys.

CL: Did Jennings remind you of that you've seen?

SC: No, he plays different than anyone I've seen before.

CL: What makes him unique?

SC: His creativity with the ball. He's always moving. Even without the ball, he's just always active on the floor. When we were doing 3-on-3 drills he'd do the Steve Nash dribble from one side of the court, underneath the basket, to the other and do a turn around. He's a great passer, so you've got to stay in front of him

I know I shouldn't take the word of a player I'm not so high on. And as Henry noted, Jennings still has major holes. However, this is exactly the point I'm after here. Jennings isn't a gaseous cloud of could-be, nor a good young player whose past offers a template for future success. He's both more and less than each of these. In some ways, he's the best PG in the draft; in others, one of the shakiest, a project needing not only technical tutelage, but some basic help getting in tune with the pro game. The level of competition in Europe may be higher in the NCAA, and it helped Jennings grow up; at the same time, is there any question this kid's recent history leaves him with a lot to work through on the court?

But again, that brilliance with the ball, the total unpredictability and idiosyncracy Curry refers to. Yes, it could lead him to self-destruct. As of now, though, it's an enormous asset, at least one facet of what it takes to be a first-tier PG. I want to compare it to drafting Thabeet on the basis of his shot-blocking, and yet this isn't about a specialist. It's about a player with a gift, one that, if a team's ready to look past or committ to sanding down the rough edges, could be the basis of not just an All-Star, but a dynamic team. This is exactly why point guards can be the new franchise these days.



I like Evans, and he's ready right now. But he's not precocious, ahead of and behind himself, like Jennings. Rubio, who knows. At this point, it's impossible to separate his actual ability from the rhetoric (no, not "hype"), a lot of which is glib and contradictory. I don't blame him for not working out, but that's keeping us from getting the same measure of how he stacks up against other prospects. Please, discuss the Olympics below. However, regardles of what Rubio is or isn't, people seem either sold or not sold on him. Everyone agrees on Jennings. The question is whether you take a player on the assumption that from one great thing, other good things will inevitably follow.

FreeDrafto #24883131: The Mock

We may never be capable of answering with "FreeDarko" means, but explaining the basis of the FD Mock Draft is a lot simpler. Like the real thing, it involves a sometimes delicate balance between best available and best fit—or in this case, most FD player and most FD state of affairs. Your pickers, in order: The Brown Recluse, Esq., Joey Litman, Tom Ziller, yours truly, and Ty Keenan. Honeysuckle and enjoy!

1. Los Angeles Clippers - Hasheem Thabeet, Connecticut
True, the last time the Clip Show drafted a raw giant of African descent with the number one overall pick, it didn't work out too well, but this time is different. The mind boggles at the potential chaos that could be wrought by a frontline of Thabeet, Marcus Camby, and Chris Kaman. Has it ever happened that a team had every shot attempt blocked for an entire game? Well, we're about to find out. Also, I overheard Dunleavy saying that Zach Randolph's face up game was so nice, he was thinking of playing him exclusively at the 3. Hey, don't shoot the messenger! (Brown Recluse, Esq.)

2. Memphis Grizzlies - Blake Griffin, Oklahoma
Given all the lectures we've received about him, it was tempting to pass on Griffin here because that would just be funny in an absurd way. Like awarding Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanamo the Best Picture award for which it deserved consideration. (Seriously.) But fine, Griffin "makes sense." He's a great fit in Memphis given the city's tortured racial-identity issues stemming from Craig Brewer's career. And amidst a roster haunted by the Ghosts of Final Fours Past, he might already be the second-most-accomplished pro, after Rudy Gay. What up, Mihm? (Joey Litman)

3. Oklahoma City Thunder - Rodrigue Beaubois, France
The Russell Westbrook of Europe meets the Russell Westbrook of ... um, America. We (outside of stoicism fetishists like Joey) think of the San Antonio canon as one of boring, solid, workmanlike. But ignore Duncan for a minute. The team that brought us James White! This is what Presti took from the Spurs playbook, beyond the Big Three + flexibility trope: get players who can jump over canyons. I look forward to the first Green-to-Westbrook-to-Beaubois-to-Durant fastbreak in which feet never touch the ground. (Tom Ziller)

4. Sacramento Kings - Brandon Jennings, Compton
We may never know for sure if Jennings really is better than Rubio, if the latter is indeed "all hype," or if both are true. Sadly, Jennings was the only one to survive the Serbian Barf Wars, a skirmish which briefly rocked the airspace over Idaho and Nebraska, and into which both young point guards were enlisted against their will for the entirety of its two-day duration. Rubio died in the arms of his mother, slain, some said, by Jennings himself.

The Maloofs may want to win, but they also own Vegas and have a pet reality show. Suckers for the nexus of talent and publicity, they'll go with Jennings, whose return to the scene of his great rhetorical crime will be seen as both a tribute to Rubio (even though that makes no sense; possibly because Ricky would've been drafted here?) and in its wacky remorselessness, the beginning of his Speedy Gonzalez/Wild Bill persona. Also, Donte Greene stole a tank during the draft and forced this pick, and with the Kings hiring Paul Westphal, who once lead the league in scoring and is often mistaken for Paul Westhead, so this team will run. (Bethlehem Shoals)



5. Washington Wizards - Tyreke Evans, Memphis
Yeah, Obama might convince them to take a Euro for the sake of foreign relations, but cute gimmicks aren't necessary as long as you're not threatening Zapatero, and every foreigner's scared of playing in DC anyway after hearing rumors that Rubio died when the sculptures in the Smithsonian came to life. With Arenas a perpetual question mark, the Wizards need a more consistent source of combo-guard scoring, especially with Jamison likely to be traded this summer. As an added bonus, Tyreke can host long-arm contests with JaVale McGee. (Ty Keenan)

6. Minnesota Timberwolves - James Harden, Arizona State
Harden's going to need that t-shirt (and some sweaters) because it gets cold in Minnesnowta. The T-Wolves are actually kinda set in the frontcourt with Jefferson and Love, but they badly need some perimeter scoring. Harden scores in ways that Corey Brewer can't even imagine, and ironically, since he makes up for his perceived athletic deficiencies through craft and wiles, he's something like the guard version of McHale. Keep ya head up, Kev! (BRE)

(We have a trade. Shoals and Joey have agreed to swap picks, while Shoals was stuck in the airport and needed something to do.)

7. Golden State Warriors - Terrence Williams, Louisville
The next Stephen Jackson but better. Stephen Jackson if he'd known all along that he was going to turn into today's Stephen Jackson, instead of being forced into it when the NBA ate his family and he fled to the hills to fight for what he believed in. Joey, I think I'm going to pass on your creepy Omar/Brandon allusion. (Note from Joey: Before anyone in the comments has to say it--pause. Get over it.) (BS)

8. New York Knicks - Jordan Hill, Arizona
While Zombie Ricky Rubio remained under heavy consideration until the last moments of New York's time on the clock, New York's selection of Hill should prove that Amare was more important than Nash. At least in D'Antoni's eyes. (Note: Hill is not Amare, but Donnie Walsh is partially blind.) (TZ)

9. Toronto Raptors - Ricky Rubio, Muerte
They came from all over, and in the North Carolina dark, they frantically pressed their weight against the old tree's trunk, searching for the door. Finally, Jason Williams found it, and he led Nash and the Colangelos down a hidden staircase. Mike, a surgeon who happens to coach basketball, was waiting for them at the bottom, and he had the body. Invoking the names of Pete and Press, the men held hands and prayed before activating the ReviviChirp, a life-conferring machine powered by a substance so mystical and potent that its creator, Christopher, had spent two years in the wilderness while recovering from the experiments he had administered on himself.

Time drew out. Jerry and Bryan looked on anxiously, knowing that on the table lay their best hope for finally realizing the dream deferred in Phoenix. Bryan was especially nervous because each passing moment brought Chris Bosh closer to getting the fuck out of Toronto, and Bryan needed a plan to win games and sell tickets. Steve and Jason were somber, overcome by desire for the league to be dominated by a white guy who could play the black game, but also jealous that history would not speak first of them. All lost hope as the machine cut out. It was over.

And just when they were resigned to rolling with Jeff Teague, an ironic twist: a hero of Brandon Jennings's own home, Compton, rushed down the stairs. Shrouded in a cloak, the man lay his hands upon Ricky's chest, held them there for a moment, and then lifted them in the air, bringing Rubio's resuscitated body with them. The man placed Ricky in Bryan's arms and bounded up the stairs as swiftly as he'd entered. Bryan screamed up, "What just happened?" And then, Dr. Dre threw back his hood and reminded the men, "Real niggaz don't die." (JL)

10. Milwaukee Bucks - Stephen Curry, Davidson
It always bothers me when GMs lose all common sense during the draft and take a guy with potential over someone who produced in college. You're telling me Curry's a worse pick than a guy like Jrue Holiday? I watched UCLA this year because I live in LA, and he wasn't even the third-best player on his own team! That's almost as illogical as when Jennifer Aniston decides not to move out of Vince Vaughn's apartment in The Breakup. None of this would've ever happened if the Bucks had hired me as their GM. I will now commit ritual seppuku. I would say more, but that's a whole different column. (Anon.)



11. New Jersey Nets - James Johnson, Wake Forest
The Nets are totally weird. Any team with Vince Carter is automatically impossible to predict, but look at the rest of the roster. Their two young "studs" are Devin Harris and Brook Lopez, without question the goofiest tandem in the League. Keyon Dooling is their fourth leading scorer (seriously, look it up), and the rest of the squad is made up the likes of Yi Jianlian and Chris Douglas-Roberts. Talk about ciphers. All of this makes New Jersey the only possible destination for James Johnson, whose anonymous name belies his utterly strange background as the middle son of a clan of Idaho-based mixed martial artists. Given his unique skill set, it's surprising that Johnson gets lost on the basketball court as often as he shines on it, which only adds more haze to his already inscrutable persona. (BRE)

12. Charlotte Bobcats - Sam Young, Pittsburgh
Not sure if they know it, but the Bobcats are at war with each other. There's the FD faction (Gerald, D.J., Boris), the Play the Right Way faction (Ray, Sean, Emeka, Raja), the kids who get to sit with the counselors at the head table since they all went to UNC, the guys with funny names (Alexis, Nazr, Vlad, DeSagana). Every time you start to head in one direction, you lose the path. The hybrid lineup of Raymond, Raja, Gerald, Boris, and Emeka was pretty good last year. Michael isn't paying attention, and lugubrious Larry is going to hate whomever shows up soon enough, so why not score one for the FD team and subtly swing the Bobcats our way? Enter Mr. Young, something of an FD Trojan horse. He came up under a defense-and-fundamentals coach, so LB will like that. But really, dude wants to run, to leap, to soar; to bomb from three, finish on the break, and block shots swooping in from the wing. There is an audacity of hope in his game that should play well in newly blue Carolina. (JL)

13. Indiana Pacers - DeJuan Blair, Pittsburgh
Following the selection of Roy Hibbert, the acquisition of Jarrett Jack, and the continued employment of Jeff Foster and Troy Murphy, the Pacers continue to attempt to build the slowest fast team of all time. Murphy makes a surprise Summer League appearance as a part of his personal brand reboot (the Irish Catholic Artest). A game against Toronto's squad results in only two Raptor rebounds in the fully 40 minutes. (One rebound by Zombie Ricky, the other by Bargnani's bitchy cousin Bella, a team inclusion which really stretches the bounds of NBA nepotism decency.) (TZ)

14. Phoenix Suns - Demar DeRozan, U$C
Because if he and Amare collide when both go up to catch a Nash lob (that will happen every single time, trust), there's a chance Stoudemire's knee could be destroyed, and his entire contract then traded elsewhere as a tax write-off. Also DeRozan can only survive in warm temperatures; if he doesn't get sun, his blood stops moving. You can actually specify that when you register for the draft, just no one ever checked that box before now. So there's kind of a moral imperative at play here. (BS)

15. Detroit Pistons - Omri Casspi, Israel
With General Motors in trouble, why not take the player whose name sounds most like a car? Not only that, but Casspi is earning a reputation in workouts as a hard-nosed player who's not afraid to get his hands dirty, qualities synonymous with the city he'll call home. The Ghost of Henry Ford probably won't relish having his industry represented by a Jew, but it's tough to be picky when you need all the help you can get. (TK)

16. Chicago Bulls - Jrue Holiday, UCLA
For years, people have been saying that the Bulls need a long defender at shooting guard, but it's time to give that shit up. It's not happening. They like having short combo guards, which is why they're going to re-sign Gordon, they're not trading Hinrich, and they're drafting Holiday. Chicago's management has to appreciate that he's a tough defender, whose wingspan and quickness should help make up for what he lacks in height. Also, I'm pretty sure that the kid doesn't even own a razor. Bulls fans can still hold out hope that he's got some more growing to do. (BRE)



17. Philadelphia 76ers - Robert Dozier, Memphis
Two years ago, the Sixers ran their way into playoff contention and poked a few new holes in a Pistons foundation already set to fall apart. The logical next step? Signing a plodding injury problem, albeit one quite talented. When he got hurt this year, the team again ran itself into playoff contention and had us finding a new coach for the Magic. Sorry about that, Stan. Sixer logic now dictates taking the fattest, slowest guy available. Has anyone seen Escalade Troy Jackson? If he can't be found and Blair isn't available, perhaps the team will stop acting like pussies and allow the new AI and Thaddeus to play as they'd prefer. In fact, I dare it to do just that. And to help, I'll give Philly Robert Dozier. Dozier can fill in for Brand once he ruptures his stomach or tears his entire lower body, and Robert's already spent the longest college career ever invented running his ass off. Plus, he's the kind of defender who will do something spectacular when not in foul trouble and buy himself a rep that may not be wholly deserved. Thus, Eddie Jordan will like his game. (JL)

18. Minnesota Timberwolves - Jonas Jerebko, Sweden
New McHale David Kahn famously wants to leave a big mark on this draft. What better way than to replace the contemptible Corey Brewer with a Swedish forward who falls between the Matts Harping and Barnes? How can this go wrong? Well, except that (after the McHale firing) this is Crime No. 2 of the Kahn empire, which means than the new GM is on schedule to be fired sometime around 2026. Polish that resumé, Hoiberg. (TZ)

19. Atlanta Hawks-- Jonny Flynn, Syracuse
Allow me to get serious for a second here. The Hawks are hurting inside. What's this, you say, they just finished a season that put them on the cusp of legitimacy? Their entire future hangs on whether or not they can satiate the slobbering overlord Mike Bibby happy. Their coach is like one of those chairs that makes you sit up straight by tearing at your tendon. The dream isn't at risk of dying—we may have to admit that it never really got off the ground. That's where Jonny Flynn comes in. So he won't rain threes like Bibby. He has the heart of Horford, the physical prowess of Smith, and some of Joe Johnson's multi-faceted competitiveness. Flynn isn't a vet, but the clinging to Bibby would be born out of a fear called A.C. Law IV; here, they get a PG whose confidence is neither flimsy nor shriveled, cynical. Jonny Flynn will save the Hawks before they even know what's missing. (BS)

20. Utah Jazz - Earl Clark, Louisville
With either Boozer or Millsap not coming back, it's time to restock with a tall, thin, do-it-all forward. In theory, Clark's skills are redundant as long as Kirilenko's around, but they could also animate AK and bring him back to the 5x5 glory days. Plus, if we're really lucky, Sloan will play them together and allow them to pick up the mantle that reformer Governor Jon Huntsman left when he moved to China. (TK)

21. New Orleans Hornets - B.J. Mullens, Ohio State
We must truly be in the Post-Shaq Era if an athletic, homegrown 7-footer can slip out of the lottery. Sure, he doesn't really know how to play basketball, but if you're a big man and you play with Chris Paul, all you really need to know how to do is catch the ball and dunk it. He seems to have that part down pretty well. If Chandler can't return to form, then Mullens will make an adequate, if significantly less handsome, replacement. (BRE)

22. Dallas Mavericks - Gerald Henderson, Duke
Ryan Hollins may be headed toward a long career as the player you love to hate. He's good enough to be on the floor, yet not good enough to get calls or command respect among those who don't ride (with) the Horsees. He's lanky and slight; his look is off. And like the lamentable majority, he has yet to think of a time when he actually committed a foul. He'll now have a partner with whom he can share in public scorn. Let's be honest: no one likes a Dookie, especially not one who's had the gall to actually act a little hard. Henderson is going to dunk on someone in a way which we don't like, and then make a face that only invites more yelling at the television. But he'll also be a good fit on a shook Mavs team that unexpectedly reverted toward its old self but still needs some help getting there. (JL)

23. Sacramento Kings (from Houston) - Tyler Hansbrough, North Carolina
Brandon Jennings throwing lobs to Psycho T, who can't finish but is pretty good at collecting the pass, landing safely, and getting fouled on the re-attempt? Yes please. We will call this the Hansbrough-oop. Jason Thompson will always perfect it, and it will be glorious. (TZ)



24. Portland Trail Blazers - Eric Maynor, VCU
Signing Andre Miller won't solve the Blazers point guard problems, it'll underscore what a parallel universe they've been living in. As in, a team doesn't just need one serviceable point guard, they need—get ready—TWO!!!!! When Miller comes to town, Steve Blake won't be "exposed" in game-type way, but revealed to be a round hole in a square peg, or an alien plant posing as your neighbor. Hence, the pick of VCU's Maynor. You might think they'd go for Ty Lawson, who pretty much won the tournament for UNC, and has all the tools needed to be a starter if necessary. But a couple drawbacks: 1) He was taken by the Nuggets in a bunch of mock drafts last year, which makes him an asshole. 2) He drank that beer once. 3) It won't make Pritchard look nearly as clever as a mid-major "sleeper" will (are there even sleepers anymore?) 4) People keep mentioning Raymond Felton when Lawson comes up. So Portland, welcome to the modern age. Now get the blasted ball out of Brandon's hands. (BS)

25. Oklahoma City Thunder (from San Antonio) - Jeff Teague, Wake Forest
Like most players on OKC, Teague has no clear position. It's tempting to say they need someone who can bring clarity to the lineup, but that could introduce an entirely new set of problems, like a glaucoma patient who smokes medicinal pot only to end up suffering from really bad paranoia. Better to stick with someone who isn't even sure if he's playing point or shooting guard from possession to possession and confuse the opponent even more. This isn't versatility--it's the new Escher. (TK)

26. Chicago Bulls (from Denver through Oklahoma City) - DeMarre Carroll, Missouri
I would pay good money to see a frontcourt of Noah, Tyrus Thomas, and Carroll playing at the same time--just unbridled, occasionally imprudent hustle. He's the Renaldo Balkman of this year's draft, and I mean that as a compliment. It's extremely unlikely any team is going to get a star this late in the first round, especially in this draft, so why not take a player who's going to play defense, rebound, and sometimes awkwardly drive to the basket? There are reports that Carroll will need a liver transplant, but that it shouldn't affect his game. And you know what that means? A whole new liver to destroy with alcohol! Chicagoans are going to love this guy. (BRE)

27. Memphis Grizzlies (from Orlando) - Austin Daye, Gonzaga
Combining hope for this tidbit to come true (third-to-last paragraph) and our infallible prognostications, here is your 2010 Memphis Ten-a-Key starting lineup: Ovinton J'Anthony, Rudy Gay, Austin Daye, Blake Griffin, Kevin Love. That's a team whose arms would literally be long enough to box with god. How would you guard them? And they should all wear t-shirts. (JL)

28. Minnesota Timberwolves (from Boston) - Toney Douglas, Florida State
Drafting ACC players is, oddly, the easiest way to increase the average age of your team. I think T.D. is actually Sebastian Telfair's uncle, but on the non-Marbury side of the fam. Arm wrestling is so 2008, but I like to think a Douglas-Jefferson showdown sounds historic enough to renew the sport. (TZ)

29. Los Angeles Lakers - Tywon Lawson, North Carolina
He would perhaps offer Kobe's order and rationality as a true PG accustomed to juggling egos and needs, but his Carolina upbringing and natural game would encourage the athletic best of Odom and Ariza. A temperamental heir to Fisher, but a stylistic descendant of Showtime. (Pick: BS/Text: JL)

30. Cleveland Cavaliers - Chase Budinger, Arizona
Look, LeBron, Danny Ferry got you a tall, athletic swingman who can score when needed. It's just what you've been asking for! Except not, because for some reason Budinger's never been able to translate his considerable skills into a sustained period of excellence. That doesn't necessarily make him a bust waiting to happen, because lord knows he won't be expected to be a first option in the NBA, but it does make him the kind of guy who's more likely to fill in when he can. Unfortunately, the Cavs already have a lot of that on their roster, and we saw where it got them this year. You wouldn't expect much else at the end of the first round, but that doesn't make it any less unfortunate. (TK)

Get a New Mazda

Belated Blogs with Balls thoughts in a second. But first:



This reminds of a Painted Area post that boldly and matter-of-factly declared Jennings the third-best prospect in the draft. This was based on actual observation, whereas everyone else was going on murky deductions about what Euro stats did or didn't mean, or a handful or anecdotal reports that trickled in from interested parties.

After watching this Rome-only Jennings mix, I see why he came to this conclusion. So maybe his stats had holes; aren't they supposed to? And I know the whole growth narrative matters, but it's too hazy to hang a multi-million dollar investment on. These clips make it pretty darn clear that Jennings wasn't stumbling through a foreign system. He's making plays here that evince exactly the same flamboyant, near-absurd, virtuosity—that I'm convinced is totally self-aware—but not in any way wrecking the integrity of his role. This is what Jennings more than Young Marbury 2. He's both more and less that cosmic force, Iverson's Zoroasterian battle within reconciled as a multi-national.

And about BwB . . . I can't really add much to the zillion recaps that have already been written. It was great to meet a bunch of people I've emailed with, and—gasp—in some cases, make the acquaintance of some folks with whom I'd had zero blog interaction. The HHR crew deserve oodles of credit to pulling together and pulling off an event that kept changing and evolving. GQ's party was fun, and I hate parties. I'm not even mad at y'all for spreading petty rumors about my love for Ricky Rubio!



I know my panel was crazy and all, and did produce this lasting tribute to how loathsome and noisy I am, but I think one key thing got lost in there, and in the conference as a whole. Yes, in part I wanted to question the whole blog/MSM blood-feud, and wonder why exactly newspaper men and bloggers had convinced themselves it was 1917 Russia all over again. Bloggers are not inherently noble, or part of some movement that will carry us all to heaven; established writers should not think the sky is falling, or that all's relative and everyone has voice, because people just aren't that stupid; the Ibanez saga says to me that treading lightly when it comes to steroids is impossible, so if you want to be taken seriously and not just be seen as a cranky fan, you should be ready to dig in your heels and pound the pavement!!! And yes, I probably cursed out all bloggers and journalists who can't write well, or report well when they have to. Merit is not dead, it just got less exclusive.

But what I really want to get out there was how little print media other than newspapers were discussed. Newspapers are in trouble, and have been for some time, which kind of makes them an easy target, like the steroids of media upheaval. However, yours truly has always been most interested in magazines and books. Jeff Pearlman at one point said that books were now his medium of choice. Other than that, nothing. I know that all publishing is a mess right now, but I felt a little out of place when the main issues were 1) learning how to ball out like Jason McIntyre 2) getting hired to kill off beat writers.

I don't see why at least magazines can't figure prominently into this discussion. After all, if you want to make a living writing, they're still a decent source of (intermittent, supplementary) income. And it's kind of insulting to bloggers to assume that, while they can move in on one quadrant of print media, they're somehow barred from making the same kind of transition that so many "real journalistz" have made. That's the blog ghetto all over again.

And anyone who doesn't think it should be a global priority for Spencer Hall to get a book out there soon is not a part of the same "movement" as me.

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2009 Brabus Tesla Roadster

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2010 BMW Z4

Why Is It Gnawing on Arkansas?

Not so long ago, I was out at a party, and I met a Dallas Mavericks fan from Eudora, AR who closely follows NBA basketball. We shall call him Frank. Frank professes no extraordinary fondness for any other team, though he does hate Kobe Bryant. Frank is twenty-three, and he has spent his whole life in Arkansas, Tennessee, and Missouri. Frank turns twenty-four this fall, meaning that he wasn't yet nine years old when the New York Knicks lost to the Houston Rockets in the NBA Finals, wasn't yet twelve when the Knicks and Heat first fought, and hadn't yet reached high school when the San Antonio Spurs' dynasty dawned at the Knicks' expense in 1999. By the time Frank had finished high school, the Knicks had begun their steady recession into functional obsolescence. As things currently stand, the New York Knickerbockers haven't been basketball relevant for almost a decade, or about as long as Frank has known enough to really know anything.

So, then, why is it that Frank and I could speak at length during our first conversation about seemingly every transaction, farce, dip, and rise that the Knicks have experienced this century? How could someone who has spent his entire life wholly beyond the East Coast media bubble, consistently amidst a television landscape from which the Knicks have been quickly exterminated, and generally insulated from a miserable foreign-market team know so much about a franchise so insignificant? The only memories of worthwhile Knick moments, to the extent which they exist at all, should come from a time of preadolescence that is often hazy and imprecise. More recently, through tests, high-school social drama, prom, and all of college, the decrepit Knicks were important enough to distract from the immediacy of that life? Even the most devoted Knicks fan, one who is blissfully absorbed in a New Yorker's unique geocentrism, would find this difficult to believe. Trust me. Not least of all because actual Knicks fans have hardly been able to keep up with all of it.

Maybe it's Frank. He is smart, and he has demonstrated impressive recall of sports-related information. He used to work as a radio broadcaster calling baseball games while in college. A self-proclaimed NBA fanatic, perhaps his lifelong passion naturally led to a special interest in the Knicks, even if not wholly conscious. This is somewhat reasonable: I recently made a reflexive reference to Beno Udrih based upon an obscure SportsCenter highlight from several years ago which I only recalled processing after I had invoked Beno's name. To the contrary, though, Frank is quick to admit that he remembers far more about baseball than basketball, and that he isn't always so good with the NBA minutiae of teams not from Dallas. On the surface, nothing about Frank suggests he should have a special affinity for the Brickers.



A more plausible explanation is that in an age of league-wide cable highlights, League Pass (which Frank has never owned, however), and internets, staying up on any team has become dramatically easier. Someone like Frank can follow the Knicks almost inadvertently, merely by seeking out basketball content provided by the leading sources which are now functionally ubiquitous. Further, despite its on-court decline, New York enjoyed special notoriety during the Isiah Thomas years due to the ignominy of paying so much money for so little production, and due to Isiah's almost inconceivable incompetence as a coach and personnel merchant. Ardent NBA man Frank may have been forced to keep tabs on the Knicks, even if he weren't already titillated by the spectacle of an ongoing disaster.

Sex-scandal aside, why the Knicks, though? Other teams have been serially, comically mismanaged. Teams such as the Clippers, the Grizzlies, and, until recently, the Hawks. These are franchises which have served as league-wide jokes, their names mocked and transformed into code words among sports fans at times. Yet, Frank's recall of the macabre details surrounding those teams lags far behind what he knows about Knickerbocker basketball. And he is not alone. The number of sports fans, in general, and basketball fans, in particular, who have no discernable connection to New York but nonetheless speak at length about the team's fortunes and history always surprises me. Something about the Knicks appears to matter more.



New York City is among the older places in the United States. Like many American things, with age comes advantage. Harvard is Harvard, in part, because it was Harvard before other places were anything. Previously, higher education hadn't existed here. Same goes for today's rich people whose families have just always been rich--they got a much earlier start watching investment opportunities come along and interest compound, so they had some distance ahead of would-be equals. New York is no different. That's not meant to minimize Harvard's academic rigor, the hard work which served as the kernel for a family fortune, or, in New York's case, desirable factors including an inviting harbor. But being old has helped to amplify certain intrinsic benefits and conferred upon New York lasting relevance and a presumed meaningfulness.

As the financial industry is realigned and the general American economy is overhauled, New York may lose this rarified profile. For now, though, the presumption is strong: most people don't seem to question that New York is a special place. I was not a history major, but the United States can feel as though it grew up with this understanding, as though appreciating New York's importance were an inherited value.

Regardless of its beginnings, enough people seem to embrace this curious ethereal sense that New York is supposed to be special. And New Yorkers love feeling this way. The architecture, the culture, the shops, the restaurants, the fashion--everything must be the best because it is of New York, and, naturally, it is of New York because it is the best. Tourists have bought into this idea as though it were a marketing slogan; millions of people visit New York under the assumption that they will spend time among something different and largely better. Beyond lofty markers like marble columns and outrageous dresses (some of which connote elitism), pride in exceptionalism permeates even quotidian aspects of New York life, like riding in a subway car loaded with people of every ethnicity imaginable. For the most part, New Yorkers relish these sorts of things about themselves.



I grew up in New York, I lived there as an adult, and I always felt that a majority of the local sports culture was informed by fomented entitlement. The Yankees had always been good, and New Yorkers deserved for them to remain good was the rough reasoning which seemed to fuel the regular fits of Yankee hysteria. Any free agent in any sport was grist for the rumor mill because no person wouldn’t want to live in New York City. Escalating ticket prices to everything were collective validation that New York sports really were just that special. And so forth. The City’s preeminence as a media and commercial capital was wedded to self-satisfaction, and this consummation yielded the perverse climate of impatience and impulsiveness that is manically self-reinforcing. Everything has been infected by the corrosive notion that New York’s teams must be the best because New Yorkers won’t stand for anything less.

(One note: The NFL may have created a safe haven amid this storm, because the league’s ruthless insistence on parity has forced liberation from this lunacy upon the Jets and Giants. The culture of those teams, surely not without insane people, feels more universal, organically connected to the larger national football pastime that has supplanted seemingly everything else. Maybe that is the ultimate triumph of the Shield--it made New York relent.)

The Knicks have a special form of this disease. Unlike the Yankees and Mets, the Knickerbockers are impeded by a salary cap that magnifies mistakes. Unlike the Jets and Giants, the Knickerbockers do not benefit from a countervailing, nearly religious belief system that excuses failure, however disappointing, as part of the natural order imposed by its governing body. Unlike the Rangers, the Knickerbockers are important to more than just a dwindling niche audience. They’ve enjoyed none of these protections. Instead, they are left exposed to the ills of mismanagement; to the ill-advised insistence on mortgaging the future for a passable present; to the ill-tempered response from an expectant fan base. Knicks history in recent decades has been one full of questionable personnel, awful contracts, a strategy which eschews cultivating a sturdy foundation, and a group of fans left to seethe in anger. The Knicks have devolved into the worst of New York.

Underneath these many problems lies one other debilitating symptom: shame. And it’s a shame which stems from something else unique about New York that might help to explain why the Knicks resonate well beyond the area to which they might be--here’s that word again--entitled. Basketball’s home is New York, and the Knicks have desecrated the City’s game.



The Knicks haven’t won an NBA championship since 1973, the most unstoppable player on the planet grew up in Akron, and college basketball’s leading orbits lie elsewhere. It would be easy, upon cursory glance, to survey this landscape and disregard as hubris the claim that basketball belongs to New York. Only, that would be wrong. Almost every basketball institution--UCLA, the Celtics, Marv Albert--owes a debt to New York. Yearly, New York City’s high schools replenish the talent in towns like Storrs, Lawrence, and Chapel Hill. Madison Square Garden remains the most sacrosanct stage for the game’s great performers, all but demanding timeless efforts that can often feel supernatural. To sit among the crowd at a Knicks game is to be immersed in a level of basketball erudition uncommon to any other arena around the league. And then, of course, there’s the street.

Celebrating schoolyard basketball for its soulfulness has become almost trite. One could build a mountain out of the magazines, movies, books, paraphernalia, and web writings dedicated to definitively capturing streetball. The entire And1 brand may have forever destroyed this romance, and some point in our recent past surely stands as a moment of demarcation when the supposed innocence of grassroots hoops was lost. There really doesn’t remain much room for reverie. However weary we may be of this commodification, though, it is no less true that schoolyard games retain the quintessence of the sport. Without the hip-hop montages and corporate sponsorships, pickup games are still exercises in egalitarianism, athleticism, hard work, and determination, set on top of asphalt. The same is true of New York: look past the oligarchs who keep the tallest buildings smooth and shining to see the many other everyday folks who know the rough edges and confer upon the city its creativity and vitality by working jobs, raising families, and hoping to carve out some success.

In this way, New York is the true capital of basketball. Beyond the dizzying array of connections to the NYC that unite almost all of the game’s denizens, New York’s primacy as a streetball center keeps the sport anchored in the five boroughs. Basketball embodies New York’s spirit, and New York embodies basketball’s. Appreciating this dynamic explains why places like West 4th Street are hallowed proving grounds; why the history of the game was likely altered the day that Black Jesus came forth from Philadelphia, held court in Harlem, and dazzled Lew Alcindor; why a palpable chill descends on the building when Kobe shows up to drop 60.



Now, about that shame.

The Knickerbockers are New York’s most visible link to the sport with which it shares a soul; the Knicks are a proxy for the City. And the Knicks, of course, play in the National Basketball Association. NBA basketball is the best-known, best-played form of the sport. A sustained championship drought, therefore, has bedeviled New Yorkers because it has challenged a shared sense of identity. Even if this discomfort is not always articulated as such, the Knicks’ failures have struck at what New Yorkers are about. The place of basketball should field a team which can play it as well as just about any other.

The angst that has accompanied New York’s decades-long run of futility has built ever stronger as years have accumulated. Do not forget that more than any other area team, the Brickers are infected by the warped New York insanity. Patrick Ewing’s arrival in the 1980s was supposed to cure this disease, restoring order and elevating the franchise to its deserved place. That didn’t happen. Instead, he and his charges spent the 1990s annually gearing up for another assault on the title, always falling short, usually in spectacular fashion. A wounded host, Ewing’s teams attracted the illness and provided it with nourishment to grow. A tragic legacy of the Ewing Knicks is that they inadvertently perpetuated a sports culture they were intended to eradicate--or at least satiate--and unwittingly initiated the ugliness that followed.

As Frank can recount with disarming specificity, here’s what came next: foolish hirings, crippling sums paid to worn-out players, desperate attempts to cure the present by hurting the future, largely fruitless drafts, widespread mockery, and steady losing. Steady, outrageous losing--by forty; by accident; without offense; forever without defense; through suspensions; through fistfights on the team plane; through truck parties. All of it brought on by the warped New York reality that was closing in faster than ever and making demands even louder than before. And so, the shame. New York, a place of exceptionalism and basketball capital, was represented by a team which directly defied both.



One of the first questions Frank asked me when I shared that I rooted for the Knicks was, “Are you excited about Donnie Walsh and Mike D’Antoni?” I nodded and said that I was, however it was far from a ringing endorsement. I was being honest; I wasn’t entirely sure.

The new Bricker leadership has restored professionalism to the franchise, one of the many ironic deficiencies previously afflicting a team which has such an active corporate following. And D’Antoni offers the promise of a system which requires discipline and practice, but not at the expense of creative freedom or entertainment. It’s a daring concept that is exciting and engrossing, though not yet proven to be a championship schematic. That, honestly, is the cause for concern. NBA championships are won with defense, and D’Antoni has not yet demonstrated that he can teach it or, more importantly, get his teams to play it well. Further, Walsh and D’Antoni’s first trip to the draft lottery yielded an unproven European who may be too slow for great defense and too frail for great anything. Not exactly the dawning of a new day.

Walsh and D’Antoni’s next opportunity to prove themselves comes in nine days, when they’re back in the lottery at the Draft. Rather than the team’s current players or most recent season, discussion of the Knicks will likely be framed by LeBron James, who, of course, is a Cavalier. But there are few NBA topics as popular as the insinuation that LeBron will sign with the Knicks in 2010. Whomever is traded, or signed, or figuratively told to start looking for a new house, the media will speculate about LeBron. The Knicks took Stephen Curry because he is friendly with James. The Knicks want to trade up for Ricky Rubio because they like his potential alongside James and think that will appeal to LeBron. They took a big man to pair with James. All of this will be said even though there is hardly a preponderance of evidence to suggest that James-to-New York is an actual possibility. So, then, why does everyone keep saying it?

For the same reasons that Frank remembers the Trevor Ariza trade and that people pay so much money on Fifth Avenue for things they can buy at home: the Knicks matter more. The Lakers and the Celtics and the Bulls matter. So do the Pistons and the Spurs. But the Knicks matter more. They carry with them New York’s prestige and the soul of the game, two wholly unique qualities. National media, whose satellite and internets arms reach into the corners of Arkansas, recognize this, and so the Knicks remain a story even when they aren't. This may bother people, but it's the truth; if people didn’t care a little more about New York, the Today Show would spend far less time out in Rockefeller Center. LeBron is viewed as the man who can stand up to the New York insanity, if not cure it. He is viewed as the man who can restore the Knicks to the position which their city demands. And he is viewed as the man who will reward Frank for his continued attention and encourage it through the next drought. That's why everyone keeps saying it; in some ways it feels right.

Think about all of this and prepare accordingly, because the LeBron gossip is going to stop just as soon as New York stops being old, basketball leaves the City, and he signs anywhere else. Frank will surely keep track of that.

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2009 Acura RDX