Fading Away

This past summer, the free agent frenzy of the NBA swept the nation. Fans had delusions of grandeur believing that stars like LeBron James, Dwayne Wade, Chris Bosh, Amare Stoudemire or Joe Johnson might join their favorite teams. As is often the case, free agency can bring about more disappointment than satisfaction. LeBron, Wade and Bosh all joined forces in Miami, Amare Stoudemire signed with the Knicks and Joe Johnson stayed in Atlanta. The Bulls were left with a seemingly solid consolation prize in Carlos Boozer.

Boozer, an undersized Power Forward, had a reputation as a consistent low post scorer, who had little interest in playing defense. His ability to score in the post would give that the Bulls an element they’ve lacked for the last decade. While he’s lived up to his reputation as a below average defensive player, his low post scoring has been underwhelming at best. Oftentimes, the Bulls will throw an entry pass to Boozer which results in a contested fade away jump shot. When Boozer has had opportunities at the rim he’s lacked explosiveness and is regularly getting his shots blocked.

The Bulls, led by their stingy team defense and explosive point guard, have been able to overcome the injuries and inconsistent play of Boozer. They lead the Eastern Conference in wins and may reach 60 victories. Boozer, to his credit, has sensed the fan anxiety over his performance and has requested that the Chicago faithful “stay tuned.” While the Bulls may secure home court advantage in the East, they will need Boozer to play at a level he has yet to demonstrate consistently this season. If the Bulls season ends in disappointing fashion during a shortened playoff run, Boozer will have to play the best defense of his career, handling the criticism of heartbroken Bulls fans.

The Odd Couple

With the Final Four set to tip off this weekend in Houston, the story lines for the games are starting to materialize. The Butler/VCU tilt is about misfits, underdogs and the little engine that could. The Kentucky/UCONN battle is about blue bloods, NBA prospects and a pair of coaches who just don’t like one another. The frosty relationship between Jim Calhoun and John Calipari began when the two were battling for supremacy in the north east. Calhoun had already established a powerful program in Storrs while Calipari was trying to resurrect a fallen program at UMASS. They battled for media attention and players in the region while often taking shots at one another. Calhoun publicly tweaked Calipari by suggesting he wasn’t a true New Englander and scolded him for using a fake Boston accent.

The most famous recruiting battle was over big man Marcus Camby from Hartford, Connecticut. Following the commitment of Camby to UMASS, Calhoun refused to play against the school. Led by the talents off Camby, UMASS made a run to the Final Four in 1996. The appearance was later vacated following the discovery that Camby accepted nearly $30,000 in gift from agents. Trouble always seems to follow Calipari, as his 2008 Final Four run at Memphis was vacated due to allegations that someone else took the SAT test for Derrick Rose. As has always been the case, Coach Cal leaves town just before the sanctions have an impact upon him.

While Jim Calhoun receives mostly positive press and praise from media members and coaches, his infraction record in not unblemished. Following an NCAA investigation into his recruiting of prospect Nate Miles, Calhoun was suspended for the first three Big East games next season for failing to create an atmosphere of compliance. Unlike his coaching rival, Calhoun was punished for his transgressions in the matter. The reality is most of these high profile coaches are guilty of wrongdoing in some form or fashion. The battle for elite players is a cut throat racket and stepping outside of the NCAA rulebook is almost a given. Calhoun, with his thick Boston accent and rough exterior is portrayed as genuine by the media. Calipari, with his designer suits and slick hair is looked as phony. Whether the characterizations are factual doesn’t seemingly matter. Calhoun is still compiling victories at the institution he’s built since 1986. Calipari, has another star studded team at his third coaching stop and on a mission for his first national championship. They’re no longer battling for players and attention in the same region. But, on Saturday night, they’ll renew their rivalry on a much larger stage.

A Long Strange Trip

There is no handbook on how to become an NBA coach. Some, like Pat Riley and Doc Rivers, are former NBA players. Others, like Tom Thibodeau and Eric Spoelstra, never broke a sweat playing in the association. Some, like George Karl and Larry Brown, come from the legendary coaching tree of Dean Smith. While Phil Jackson played for the New York Knicks and developed his basketball philosophies from Red Holtzman, his ascent into coaching was far more circuitous than standardized. Following his retirement in 1980, Jackson began coaching in lower level professional leagues including the CBA and in Puerto Rico. Although he had success, winning a title with the Albany Patroons, Jackson was consistently ignored for NBA coaching jobs. His countercultural attitudes during his playing days and admission of experimental drug use, gave executives trepidation about giving him an opportunity. In 1987, Bulls General Manager Jerry Krause hired Jackson as an assistant coach and promoted him to head coach after two years.

20 seasons and 11 championships later, Phil Jackson is seemingly in his last stand as a coach. He’s always approached the profession from a different angle than his more traditional peers. He doesn’t frantically pace the sidelines or constantly berate officials for the entirety of games. He doesn’t call timeouts during tumultuous stretches of games, opting instead for allowing his players to battle through the adversity. While other coaches sweat through their suits, Jackson often looks like he’s on the verge of falling asleep. He routinely burns incense in the locker room as a form of relaxation while also encouraging meditation sessions among his players. Famously, he hands out books to his players, selecting novels that will appeal to their given personalities, in the hopes that they will find inspiration.

While one can argue about the effectiveness of such practices, no one can dispute the results. Phil, more so than any other coach in professional sports, has been able to convince star players with outsized egos to buy into a system. Persuading Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant to trust their teammates in pressure packed circumstances is no easy feat. It’s often said, that the most difficult challenge in any sport, is to win consecutive championships. Invariably, star players become distracted with more endorsement opportunities while role players seek more recognition and financial compensation. Somehow, Jackson has been able to overcome those issues, leading his teams to three peats on three occasions with an opportunity for a fourth this spring. When the dust settles on the playoffs this year, Jackson will likely coach his last game. His peers will continue marching up and down the sidelines while eviscerating the referees. He’ll spend his time on the beaches of Malibu and open lands of Montana.

It’s Lonely at the Top

In a recent ESPN documentary about the cultural impact of the “Fab Five”, former Michigan player Jalen Rose proclaimed his animosity towards the Duke Basketball program. Rose explained, “I hated Duke, and I hated everything Duke stood for. Schools like Duke didn’t recruit players like me. I felt like they only recruited black players that we Uncle Toms.” The racial reference has created a firestorm that has been analyzed and scrutinized in publications all across the nation. While the debate is certainly fascinating, the focus here is less about the inflammatory remarks and more about the hatred of the Blue Devils that has enveloped that program over the last two decades.

Distaste for successful sports teams is certainly not uncommon. Dynasties are respected, not beloved. Every October, baseball fans of all franchises unite in their hopes that the New York Yankees will end the season without another World Series trophy. What’s odd and unique about the distaste for Duke is that it’s a collection of college kids, not highly paid professionals. College teams, even highly successful ones, normally don’t receive this type of animosity. The UCLA Bruins of the 60’s and 70’s were commended for embodying the purity of basketball, a well oiled, fundamentally sound machine. John Wooden was universally adored for his homespun Midwestern sensibilities and colloquial sayings about life.

Coach K, on the other hand, is reviled. He’ll never be America’s favorite grandpa, the way John Wooden was. Coach K is hated for the way he portrays the Duke program as the symbol of everything that’s right with college athletics. His kids, by and large, stay out of trouble and graduate. He’ll never pass up an opportunity to tell the masses about how special the Duke program is and maybe that’s part of the animosity. It’s that holier than thou attitude that encompases all things Duke. The way national broadcasters depict the Blue Devils also contributes to the hatred. Dick Vitale, the bombastic blowhard, fawns all over Coach K. He spends many broadcasts yelling and screaming about how no teams play as hard as Duke. Even more irritatingly, Vitale often preaching the gospel while Duke isn’t even playing in the game he’s analyzing.

It’s not just about Coach K and the broadcasters though. It’s overly enthusiastic players with limited skills slapping the floor before a big defensive possession, playing defense by falling down underneath driving offensive players and seemingly always getting the beneficial calls. It’s Christian Laetnner stepping on an opposing player’s head and JJ Redick taunting crowds in unsympathetic arenas. The public hostility towards the program can often mask the reality.

The truth is, Coach K does deserve the adulation in the same way that John Wooded did. He’s built a powerhouse of a program at a small private school with high academic standards (although lowered for his players) while competing against in state rival North Carolina. He’s won a gold medal while coaching a team of professional players in the Olympics. He’s set to become the all times wins leader in the history of college basketball. When he does, the national media will extol his virtues and deservedly so. Just don’t expect the American public to join in.

Maddening March

With the NCAA tournament set to tip off on Thursday, office workers around the country are frantically filling out brackets in an attempt to win their respective pools. Fans are learning about schools like Belmont, Moorhead State and Saint Peter’s. Players are gearing up for what may be their last athletic moments that don’t involve pickup games at the local rec center. Meanwhile, national broadcasters are doing their best to spoil the fun by breathlessly admonishing the committee for the inclusion of questionable selections like VCU and UAB.

Even more annoyingly, experts like Jay Bilas are using their national platforms to politic for the restructuring of the NBA rule that allows players to enter the draft after one year of College Basketball. Bilas, like many other college basketball commentators has noticed the slow but steady downturn in talent at the college level. The best prospects leave as quickly as possible, cashing in on their opportunity to make it in the NBA. As a result, aside from the crop of freshman phenoms, the NCAA tournament annually showcases a collection of hard working players that often have limited potential at the next level. The quality of play often suffers, with games featuring plenty of missed open shots, blown layups and stretches without any scoring. However, as long as the games are close and drama ensues, fans don’t really seem to mind the lack of quality.

Commentators like Bias, are worried about the long term health of the game, while also getting tired of having to pretend like watching awful basketball is exciting. As a solution, Bilas had proposed adopting the NFL rule of forcing players to stay in college for at least three years before entering the pros. Bilas, a former Duke player and assistant coach, believes the rule change would improve the NBA and college game simultaneously. While it’s nice to have Jay Bilas around to solve the world’s problems, I don’t think his idea is good for anyone expect those trying to make money off of the backs of mostly impoverished African American college athletes. Additionally, I don’t believe the rule change is necessarily good for the NBA.

Derrick Rose, the star point guard and MVP candidate of the Chicago Bulls, entered the NBA after one spectacular season at the University of Memphis. Had the NBA adopted the Bilas rule, Rose would have spent the last two years playing college basketball, rather than becoming one of the young faces of the NBA. For the last two seasons, Rose has resuscitated the Chicago Bulls, bringing the roar back to the United Center with his astounding athleticism and lighting fast quickness. While Rose certainly would have become star eventually, how is it good for the NBA to have one its brightest and most humble stars playing an extra two years in college instead of the NBA?

What often gets ignored in the conversation, it what’s good for the young athletes. Rose, for example, grew up on the West Side of Chicago, the youngest of four brothers raised by a single mother. While his older brothers are all college graduates with steady jobs, his family and particularly his mother are in need of financial support. Rose, under the Bilas rule, would still eventually become a lottery pick and cash in on his millions, but is it fair to keep him in college for an extra two years when athletes already have limited earning potential? These athletes do their part, by playing their hearts out in front of sold crowds in arenas and massive TV audiences. The players, however, are the only ones not making money off of the product. Conveniently, they’re seemingly always the last people to be considered when anyone discusses how to improve the system.

Commemorations and Coronations

Last Saturday night, a sold out crowd gathered at the United Center to celebrate the first championship team in the history of the Bulls franchise. Bulls players returned to their old stomping grounds, albeit in a different venue, to reflect on their accomplishment from twenty years ago. The members of that team have grown older and so have we. Based on their outside appearance, they are no longer the sporting deities they once were. Their bodies no longer chiseled. Their hairlines receded. Their once confident strides now turned to slower steps. It was a reminder of just how special that team was and just how difficult it is to climb the championship mountain. While the fans and media were expecting a celebration of a title team from 20 years ago, a coronation of this current team was also taking place.

Despite the fact they haven’t won a mere playoff game together, bouquets were being thrown at the feet of this year’s Bulls team. In an interview earlier in the week, the normally conservative Bulls Chairman Jerry Reinsdorf boasted that if healthy, the team has an “awfully good chance of winning at least four championships.” Bulls legend Michael Jordan proclaimed that this team may bring six more titles to the city. It’s certainly nice to have MJ heap praise on this current roster, but let’s not kid ourselves.


It just seems like the accolades for the current Bulls are coming a little too quickly. Oftentimes, NBA teams must endure heartache before they experience triumph. They haven’t yet felt the despair of losing a closely contested playoff series. They haven’t spent the offseason wondering if there was anything more they could have done. They haven’t woken up in the middle of the night contemplating the missed shots that would have won games. Maybe this team is good enough and naïve enough to skip those steps. The cold reality is that championship windows close more quickly than one could ever imagine. Players age, bodies decay and title opportunities disintegrate. The 1985 Bears, the 2003 Cubs and countless other teams have had dreams of dynasties turn into disappointments of defeats. No one can be sure if this Bulls team is headed for a title in the near future, but let’s not forget to enjoy watching it unfold.

Augie

Somewhere, on the sun splashed fields of Arizona, Octavio “Augie” Ojeda is wondering whether he still belongs on a Major League Baseball roster. Augie has never quite fit the mold of what a star athlete should look like. He’s listed in the program at 5’9 and 174 pounds while never possessing the flashy tools that make cynical scouts drool on their notebooks. Not surprisingly, he wasn’t drafted until the 13th round and 380 players were selected before they called his name. He’s scratched and clawed his way onto major league rosters for parts of 10 seasons, playing over 500 games in the show. His stats don’t exactly jump off the page at you, unless you favor players who have never had more than 17 RBIs or 2 Home Runs in a season. But here he is, a 36 year old journeyman infielder with a funny name, trying to make another Big League roster.


Players normally get admiration for their production. Fans bowed in the right field bleachers of Wrigley Field for Sluggers like Sammy Sosa and Andre Dawson. Kids hang posters on their bedroom walls for home run kings, 20 game winners and fire breathing closers. Little Leaguers emulate the mannerisms of star players, mimicking the sweet swing of Ken Griffey Jr. or the pre bat routine of Big Papi Ortiz. However, there are exceptions to the rule and Augie Ojeda is one such exception. Despite never hitting more than .221 in a Cubs uniform, he’s always been beloved at Clark and Addison.


While fans tend to worship the stars, they also indentify with the underdogs. Once you reach a certain age, you realize you’re probably not growing to be a 6’4, 220 pound stud athlete. It’s hard to relate to these otherworldly athletic specimens that won the genetic lottery. At a certain point, you realize you look more like the bat boy than the MVP candidate. Maybe that’s why fans love guys like Augie Ojeda. Dads can take their sons to games, point to the diminutive infielder and tell them that anything is possible. You don’t need the blazing speed, superhero muscles, or backbreaking curveball to make it to bigs. It sure helps though. When Ojeda made his debut this spring, Cubs fans were chanting his name as he sauntered to the plate. Whether he plays another game on the lush green grass of Wrigley Field remains to be seen.

The Conundrum of Chemistry

From the moment LeBron James decided to take his immense talents to South Beach, the Miami Heat became a lightning rod all basketball related discussion. James and his posse spent the summer getting wooed by NBA executives, who were all salivating over the prospect of LeBron joining their teams. Countless franchises sacrificed their previous seasons by playing financial gymnastics, doing all they could to clear the necessary cap space to sign his services. There could only be one victor in the LeBron sweepstakes and the Miami Heat won the lottery.

LeBron and his new teammates now carried the burden of amplified expectations. The assumption, made by many observers, was that building a team around three great players would automatically lead to success. Predictions ensued of whether they could win 70 games in their first season and how many titles they would collect over the next five years. Discussions percolated about whether star players uniting on one team was good for the financial health of the NBA. The more interesting discussion, in my mind, is less about business and more about basketball.

Basketball, when played at its best, is a game of athletic brilliance and improvisation within the confines of orchestrated movement. An individual can creatively stray from the structure of the group, but they must remain loyal to the predetermined arrangements of an offense. That in essence, is the tightrope that all basketball players must navigate. Players must resolve the internal struggle of how to demonstrate individual excellence while not alienating the collective.

While the NBA and its television partners market games as a battle between individuals, the sport is more than just a competition amongst stars. Whether it’s being played under the summer sun on the hot pavement of playgrounds, or in an air conditioned gym with a sparse crowd in the stands, the result of a game is often determined by players who aren’t in the spotlight. Its big men who set bone rattling screens, diminutive point guards who collect rebounds in a crowd and unheralded players sacrificing their bodies by taking a charge with the game on the line. In reality, it’s about role players doing uncelebrated things that don’t show up on the evening highlight shows. The stars collect large paychecks and endorsement deals while the glue guys collect bruises from opponents and high fives from teammates.

The lesson is that one can’t build a championship team by simply assembling a few great players without concern for the rest of the roster. There is little doubt in my mind, that Miami will become a force to be reckoned with in the coming years. They will find guys who are willing to sacrifice their bodies and their pride for the success of the group. They will gradually learn the nuances of each other’s games. They will discover how to communicate with head nods and eye contact. For those who love to loathe LeBron, it will be heart wrenching and painstaking. For those who love the artistry and majesty of basketball, it will be beautiful.