(no subject)
The walk to the bus stop this morning was lovely: mist, the sidewalk sheltered by expansive golden-leaved trees interspersed with firs on either side, a couple of trees tinted vividly red, almost crimson, to dot the park. There was only one kid there as I passed, a boy attempting baskets without much marked success. He seemed perfectly happy nonetheless. (I think I'm at the age now where it seems awesome to be a kid.)
(Then again, I get to make that walk every day -- it's pretty awesome to be me, too.)
I recently finished Bill Simmons' The Book of Basketball, which I found a lot more enjoyable than expected. I'm wary of ESPN columnists to begin with (probably unreasonably so; I don't actually read the articles often, just references by Yankees and Knicks fans who are convinced that everyone at ESPN hates their franchises), and it was clear from the Amazon reviews that Simmons was not only a dyed-in-the-wool Celtics fan, but that he actively made digs at Kareem Abdul-Jabaar and Kobe Bryant throughout the book -- not that I'm a Kobe fan, but here is a guy who obviously doesn't hold much affection for the gold and purple.
After reading the book, I can say that digs there are, and those a-plenty, but they're delivered...palatably, shall we say? It's not one-sided bashing; he praises players for their admirable qualities as often as he calls them out for their negative ones, and you can see that he goes through painstaking lengths to be objective in the mammoth ranking of the top 96 players of the era towards the end of the book.
More importantly, though, what made this book a pleasure to read was the fact that, even though Simmons and I are not fans of the same basketball players, we're fans of the same type of basketball, the team-oriented, pass-happy, win-first-count-stats-later-if-at-all basketball that seems to have had its heyday in the 80s and 90s, and was revitalized later by Steve Nash and the Suns. Maybe any basketball fan from before the post-Jordan era feels the same way.
Simmons talks about 'The Secret' to winning basketball, gleaned from Isiah Thomas (more on this later), which is that it's not about basketball.
He takes a moment to marvel over this: the secret of basketball is that it's not about basketball; how crazy! And how true!
Instead, he says, it's about a hundred and one external issues. It's about team chemistry, the compatibility of player personalities, the pressures of popular perception, of past achievements, of staggering expectations. It's the ability to deal with media adoration and scorn, with racism, with criticism, unwarranted or not, with so many different aspects that don't show up in any existing statistics sheet.
There's a lot of glorification of the past in this book. I can't speak as to whether it's justified or not, since I don't follow modern basketball except for a brief stint of watching the Knicks before they broke my heart, and one really shouldn't judge a sport by its worst team. As a fellow fan of the basketball of a bygone era, though, it's certainly a point of view to which I can relate.
Speaking of the Knicks, and speaking of Isiah Thomas, it's ironic that this key to basketball supremacy came from a guy who is often pointed out by basketball fans (and Simmons is no exeption) as one of the worst coaches/GMs of this decade.
What I like about Simmons' take on things is that he doesn't simply dismiss Isiah based on the blunders of his post-player career. He gives Isiah his due as a player, acknowledges the legitimacy of some of his statements and views -- and, in the case of The Secret, embraces it as the cornerstone of his book -- and includes such a moving and sympathetic account of Game 6 of the 1988 Finals between the Lakers (Magic Johnson! <3333) and Isiah's Pistons that I had to dig through Youtube for videos of that game again.
(See here: Isiah Thomas 25 points 3rd quarter-sprained ankle-NBA Finals 1988 vs. Los Angeles Lakers
and here: NBA's 60 Greatest Playoff Moments: #13
and here for the game as it aired: 1988 DET LAL Game 6 (6 of 10)
1988 DET LAL Game 6 (7 of 10) )
For those of you whom I didn't hold at gunpoint and force to watch the NBA's Greatest Finals Moments video, the Pistons were one game away from winning their first Championship after a heartbreaking loss the previous year to Boston, one of the key moments hinging around a blunder by Isiah (a bad pass stolen by Larry Bird).
The Pistons of those years had the nickname of the Bad Boys due to their extreme toughness and pugnaciousness and their physical style of play, and Isiah, at 6' tall, was "the smallest and baddest" of them. (6' might not seem particularly short, but this was the NBA; Magic, who played the same position for the Lakers, loomed three quarters of a foot above his friend.) Being the shortest guy on most courts seemed to have bred an extra dose of aggressiveness in Isiah to compensate, and he had something of a history for hasty speech/action which did not make him popular in the league or with fans -- it's widely supposed that he was cut from the '92 Olympic Dream Team because Michael Jordan disliked him so much he was unwilling to share a team with him.
The Pistons used this animosity as a weapon, adopting an 'us-against-the-world' mentality that made them one of the most tightly-knit teams in the league; even now, decades later, the affection they harbor for those teams and teammates is apparent in interviews.
In their minds, they weren't the Celtics or the Lakers, playing for just another banner or Championship ring; they were striving for something they'd never yet achieved -- and during that Game 6 in '88, it was within their sights. It could happen. One more game, and they'd have it. It was looking like they just might get it, too, as Isiah was on fire, the Lakers seeming unable to stop him.
Then he stepped on Michael Cooper's foot.
In the video footage, the instant of the ankle sprain itself happens without fanfare, without any collisions, crashes, flailing limbs, almost unnoticeable; then you see Isiah crumpled on the ground while the rest of the playing teams are already rushing to the other side of the court. One of the Youtube comments on the video claims that he was probably faking the severity of the injury, which makes me want to punch the commentator in the face, then force him/her to actually sit down and WATCH the video. Isiah doesn't spend time lying around looking piteous; the absolute first thing he does is push himself up, but the ankle can't hold his weight; he goes down again, and for a moment he's just rocking there with the pain.
Eventually he's helped off the court, and there's a shot of him on his elbows on the ground by the Pistons bench, biting hard on his bottom lip, eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading on his forehead.
That was it, one would think, for the Pistons. Bye-bye Championship. They were a team of good and dedicated role players revolving around one leader, one star, and Isiah, whom they'd just lost, was that leader and that star.
But no; he comes back when the Pistons are trailing by 6, limping noticeably and just as noticeably determined not to let it stop him. He makes play after incredible play, crashing into the audience after an awkward shot that miraculously goes in, tumbling into the photographers after a lay-up because he can't maintain balance on the injured ankle, then, as Simmon's describes, 'speed-hopping' his way across the court to get back on defense.
You know that at this point he's probably willing to trade five years of his life for a win; failing that option, he's doing every single thing he can before his ankle swells too much for him to be effective.
He ends up scoring 25 points that quarter, an NBA Finals record that is, I think, still standing, really just an incredible feat of willpower.
It wasn't enough.
They lost that game, 103-102, and the video captures Isiah crying at the end of it, probably from pure stymied frustration with the world and himself, while his teammates rub his head and clap him on the back and people stream off the court.
It's just such an amazing, heart-wrenching performance, one of the first that I watched when I was getting into basketball, and it made me like the entire sport more than I did. For all of Isiah Thomas' flaws -- as a person, as a player, as a coach or GM -- not caring enough was never one of them, and I think that that's one of the reasons why he's always seemed to be popular with those on his team, both his teammates and the players he coached, even while being reviled by the rest of the world. It's one of the reasons I suspect I'll never not like him. (What he did with the Knicks was a pretty sufficient test of affection!)
So, yes. Simmons pokes fun at Isiah's trade decisions, but he also underlines the things that Isiah did well; he calls Kareem a ninny, multiple times, but picks him for his Greatest of All Time team because, well, he was that good. It doesn't matter to me that he dislikes some of the players I love, because he sees the qualities that make them lovable to me; he respects their accomplishments instead of dismissing them. With players that I'm ambivalent about, like Kobe Bryant, he lays out their good moments and their bad ones, and even though he's not shy about sharing his own opinion of them, he does it in a way that allows readers to make their own informed decisions.
(Okay, I re-read some of the book just now, and I lie; his portrayal of Wilt Chamberlain is almost entirely negative. There are a few compliments in there -- he was generous with his money, a nice guy to talk to or get a story from, he wrote an entertaining book -- but it's drowned out by the pages and pages on why Wilt Chamberlain was, basically, a loser.
Then again, that's not surprising: Wilt Chamberlain, or at least Bill Simmons' perception of him, pretty much epitomizes the antithesis of the team > all, winning > all type of basketball that is placed on a pedestal in this book. Expecting Simmons to find something admirable in him would be like expecting pre-Christmas Carol Scrooge to hold forth on the virtues of poverty.
Of course, that doesn't bother me because I don't know enough about Chamberlain to disagree with the portrayal, and, well, I don't like that type of person, either. Not to mention that, from what I do know of him, he wasn't a classy guy.)
Wow, this got long. There are some topics and can go on and on and ON about, and '88 Finals Game 6 is one of them. Sorry!
There are a lot of other reasons to read the book than the ones that drew me in; it's informative, it has plenty of amusing/intriguing/horrifying anecdotes, it links the different eras of basketball together and explains how one led to the next in a behind-the-scenes look at how the basketball industry worked, and it attempts to answer those 'who/what is better than whom/what?' questions that are so good for spawning fiery debates.
Me, I'm just interested in the people, in how they related to basketball and how they related to each other (and I have a whole 'nother looooong post-in-my-head on the fascination of people and relationships that I will never inflict upon the world, don't worry), so I'm happy to see that Simmons seems to share that interest, and often explores these issues when conducting his evaluations of each team and player.
(Then again, I get to make that walk every day -- it's pretty awesome to be me, too.)
I recently finished Bill Simmons' The Book of Basketball, which I found a lot more enjoyable than expected. I'm wary of ESPN columnists to begin with (probably unreasonably so; I don't actually read the articles often, just references by Yankees and Knicks fans who are convinced that everyone at ESPN hates their franchises), and it was clear from the Amazon reviews that Simmons was not only a dyed-in-the-wool Celtics fan, but that he actively made digs at Kareem Abdul-Jabaar and Kobe Bryant throughout the book -- not that I'm a Kobe fan, but here is a guy who obviously doesn't hold much affection for the gold and purple.
After reading the book, I can say that digs there are, and those a-plenty, but they're delivered...palatably, shall we say? It's not one-sided bashing; he praises players for their admirable qualities as often as he calls them out for their negative ones, and you can see that he goes through painstaking lengths to be objective in the mammoth ranking of the top 96 players of the era towards the end of the book.
More importantly, though, what made this book a pleasure to read was the fact that, even though Simmons and I are not fans of the same basketball players, we're fans of the same type of basketball, the team-oriented, pass-happy, win-first-count-stats-later-if-at-all basketball that seems to have had its heyday in the 80s and 90s, and was revitalized later by Steve Nash and the Suns. Maybe any basketball fan from before the post-Jordan era feels the same way.
Simmons talks about 'The Secret' to winning basketball, gleaned from Isiah Thomas (more on this later), which is that it's not about basketball.
He takes a moment to marvel over this: the secret of basketball is that it's not about basketball; how crazy! And how true!
Instead, he says, it's about a hundred and one external issues. It's about team chemistry, the compatibility of player personalities, the pressures of popular perception, of past achievements, of staggering expectations. It's the ability to deal with media adoration and scorn, with racism, with criticism, unwarranted or not, with so many different aspects that don't show up in any existing statistics sheet.
There's a lot of glorification of the past in this book. I can't speak as to whether it's justified or not, since I don't follow modern basketball except for a brief stint of watching the Knicks before they broke my heart, and one really shouldn't judge a sport by its worst team. As a fellow fan of the basketball of a bygone era, though, it's certainly a point of view to which I can relate.
Speaking of the Knicks, and speaking of Isiah Thomas, it's ironic that this key to basketball supremacy came from a guy who is often pointed out by basketball fans (and Simmons is no exeption) as one of the worst coaches/GMs of this decade.
What I like about Simmons' take on things is that he doesn't simply dismiss Isiah based on the blunders of his post-player career. He gives Isiah his due as a player, acknowledges the legitimacy of some of his statements and views -- and, in the case of The Secret, embraces it as the cornerstone of his book -- and includes such a moving and sympathetic account of Game 6 of the 1988 Finals between the Lakers (Magic Johnson! <3333) and Isiah's Pistons that I had to dig through Youtube for videos of that game again.
(See here: Isiah Thomas 25 points 3rd quarter-sprained ankle-NBA Finals 1988 vs. Los Angeles Lakers
and here: NBA's 60 Greatest Playoff Moments: #13
and here for the game as it aired: 1988 DET LAL Game 6 (6 of 10)
1988 DET LAL Game 6 (7 of 10) )
For those of you whom I didn't hold at gunpoint and force to watch the NBA's Greatest Finals Moments video, the Pistons were one game away from winning their first Championship after a heartbreaking loss the previous year to Boston, one of the key moments hinging around a blunder by Isiah (a bad pass stolen by Larry Bird).
The Pistons of those years had the nickname of the Bad Boys due to their extreme toughness and pugnaciousness and their physical style of play, and Isiah, at 6' tall, was "the smallest and baddest" of them. (6' might not seem particularly short, but this was the NBA; Magic, who played the same position for the Lakers, loomed three quarters of a foot above his friend.) Being the shortest guy on most courts seemed to have bred an extra dose of aggressiveness in Isiah to compensate, and he had something of a history for hasty speech/action which did not make him popular in the league or with fans -- it's widely supposed that he was cut from the '92 Olympic Dream Team because Michael Jordan disliked him so much he was unwilling to share a team with him.
The Pistons used this animosity as a weapon, adopting an 'us-against-the-world' mentality that made them one of the most tightly-knit teams in the league; even now, decades later, the affection they harbor for those teams and teammates is apparent in interviews.
In their minds, they weren't the Celtics or the Lakers, playing for just another banner or Championship ring; they were striving for something they'd never yet achieved -- and during that Game 6 in '88, it was within their sights. It could happen. One more game, and they'd have it. It was looking like they just might get it, too, as Isiah was on fire, the Lakers seeming unable to stop him.
Then he stepped on Michael Cooper's foot.
In the video footage, the instant of the ankle sprain itself happens without fanfare, without any collisions, crashes, flailing limbs, almost unnoticeable; then you see Isiah crumpled on the ground while the rest of the playing teams are already rushing to the other side of the court. One of the Youtube comments on the video claims that he was probably faking the severity of the injury, which makes me want to punch the commentator in the face, then force him/her to actually sit down and WATCH the video. Isiah doesn't spend time lying around looking piteous; the absolute first thing he does is push himself up, but the ankle can't hold his weight; he goes down again, and for a moment he's just rocking there with the pain.
Eventually he's helped off the court, and there's a shot of him on his elbows on the ground by the Pistons bench, biting hard on his bottom lip, eyes squeezed shut, sweat beading on his forehead.
That was it, one would think, for the Pistons. Bye-bye Championship. They were a team of good and dedicated role players revolving around one leader, one star, and Isiah, whom they'd just lost, was that leader and that star.
But no; he comes back when the Pistons are trailing by 6, limping noticeably and just as noticeably determined not to let it stop him. He makes play after incredible play, crashing into the audience after an awkward shot that miraculously goes in, tumbling into the photographers after a lay-up because he can't maintain balance on the injured ankle, then, as Simmon's describes, 'speed-hopping' his way across the court to get back on defense.
You know that at this point he's probably willing to trade five years of his life for a win; failing that option, he's doing every single thing he can before his ankle swells too much for him to be effective.
He ends up scoring 25 points that quarter, an NBA Finals record that is, I think, still standing, really just an incredible feat of willpower.
It wasn't enough.
They lost that game, 103-102, and the video captures Isiah crying at the end of it, probably from pure stymied frustration with the world and himself, while his teammates rub his head and clap him on the back and people stream off the court.
It's just such an amazing, heart-wrenching performance, one of the first that I watched when I was getting into basketball, and it made me like the entire sport more than I did. For all of Isiah Thomas' flaws -- as a person, as a player, as a coach or GM -- not caring enough was never one of them, and I think that that's one of the reasons why he's always seemed to be popular with those on his team, both his teammates and the players he coached, even while being reviled by the rest of the world. It's one of the reasons I suspect I'll never not like him. (What he did with the Knicks was a pretty sufficient test of affection!)
So, yes. Simmons pokes fun at Isiah's trade decisions, but he also underlines the things that Isiah did well; he calls Kareem a ninny, multiple times, but picks him for his Greatest of All Time team because, well, he was that good. It doesn't matter to me that he dislikes some of the players I love, because he sees the qualities that make them lovable to me; he respects their accomplishments instead of dismissing them. With players that I'm ambivalent about, like Kobe Bryant, he lays out their good moments and their bad ones, and even though he's not shy about sharing his own opinion of them, he does it in a way that allows readers to make their own informed decisions.
(Okay, I re-read some of the book just now, and I lie; his portrayal of Wilt Chamberlain is almost entirely negative. There are a few compliments in there -- he was generous with his money, a nice guy to talk to or get a story from, he wrote an entertaining book -- but it's drowned out by the pages and pages on why Wilt Chamberlain was, basically, a loser.
Then again, that's not surprising: Wilt Chamberlain, or at least Bill Simmons' perception of him, pretty much epitomizes the antithesis of the team > all, winning > all type of basketball that is placed on a pedestal in this book. Expecting Simmons to find something admirable in him would be like expecting pre-Christmas Carol Scrooge to hold forth on the virtues of poverty.
Of course, that doesn't bother me because I don't know enough about Chamberlain to disagree with the portrayal, and, well, I don't like that type of person, either. Not to mention that, from what I do know of him, he wasn't a classy guy.)
Wow, this got long. There are some topics and can go on and on and ON about, and '88 Finals Game 6 is one of them. Sorry!
There are a lot of other reasons to read the book than the ones that drew me in; it's informative, it has plenty of amusing/intriguing/horrifying anecdotes, it links the different eras of basketball together and explains how one led to the next in a behind-the-scenes look at how the basketball industry worked, and it attempts to answer those 'who/what is better than whom/what?' questions that are so good for spawning fiery debates.
Me, I'm just interested in the people, in how they related to basketball and how they related to each other (and I have a whole 'nother looooong post-in-my-head on the fascination of people and relationships that I will never inflict upon the world, don't worry), so I'm happy to see that Simmons seems to share that interest, and often explores these issues when conducting his evaluations of each team and player.