Last week, Jordan Crawford created a minor stir when he gave an honest (delusional?) self-assessment of his game, goals, and legacy. This is what he said: “When I’m done playing, I don’t want people to say, Michael Jordan is the best player. I want that to be me. That’s how I am. That’s how I was built.”
Normally comments like this would be chewed up and spit out by the jaws of social media; processed, digested, mocked, then forgotten. But thanks to the lockout and its magical ability to make even the dumbest non-lockout stories seem interesting, Crawford’s inane statement was placed on stilts.
On March 30th of last year, Crawford scored 39 points in a home loss against Miami. Despite attempting 16.3 shots per game after being traded from Atlanta to Washington, this was the only time in his rookie year the 22-year-old Crawford broke the 30 point mark. Michael Jordan had no weaning period in the NBA. He lead the league with 2313 points in his first season. Crawford had 490, good for 10th in his own draft class. So yes, there’s a speck of argument against Crawford’s statement—not that it was ever needed.
In the grand scheme of what’s altruistically important in life, I believe it’s fair to suggest all teachers, doctors, surgeons, and members of the armed forces should be given financial compensation of equal or greater value to that of which is awarded professional athletes. Their actual impact on human life is indisputably greater, more important, and further reaching. Of course, they don’t (and never will) because the businesses they’re in don’t create the billions upon billions of dollars in gross revenue that the NBA, NFL, MLB, and NHL produce on an annual basis. They also have an uncountable number of members in their labor force, making each worker’s slice of pie much smaller than that of the athlete. Call it sad. Call it unfair. Call it horribly disproportionate. Call it the real world. Read more…
I know what you’re thinking: LeBron MUST’VE been in foul trouble here. He wasn’t.
These two don’t look fancy, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t formidable. In a span of five dribbles, one TrailBlazer falls over while another turns into cement. Crossing someone over going full speed is probably five times as hard as setting yourself up in the half court and dictating the move’s flow. Meanwhile, not a single drop of Deron Williams’ sweat hits the court.
The most memorable crossovers are like a beautifully performed tango: both need two partners to play their part. Here, Darren Collison acts as if Tyreke Evans is dribbling a hand grenade. His eyes go wide at just the right moment, allowing the two to create a sequence all shall enjoy for the rest of time. All, of course, but Darren Collison.
Rising: Gordon Hayward
Every 20-year-old rookie in the history of professional basketball has had to prove himself. There are always different variables relating to hype, expectations, and ability, but at the beginning every single one of them must demonstrate why he’s on the team—to his coach, his teammates, and the fans. Not to make this a racial issue, because those are stupid, but like so many collegiate superstars who coincidentally happen to be white and adored by college basketball enthusiasts, television producers, respected analysts, and, most importantly, the millions of national audience members who ritualistically gather on the fringe when March rolls around, Gordon Hayward’s initiation into the NBA was especially uphill. Read more…
It’s grounds to qualify as literal breaking news. To forever know where you were, and what you were doing while there, and who you were with when you were doing whatever it is you were doing, wherever you may have been. Once shock has subsided, your initial reaction is erased from memory, hours after it’s seeped into your brain. You transform into your favorite analyst, dissecting the pros and cons in a rational way, perhaps with a sprinkle of hopeful or bitter bias. As a fan, you fear the worst and pray everything will work out for the better.
This is the massive aftermath of a monumental trade. Read more…
Stephen Curry is quietly so good at all the solid, technical aspects of basketball that we sometimes forget to appreciate how magnificently beautiful his flash can be. Both of these clips—the first serving as all the evidence Glen Taylor needs to fire David Khan—aren’t anything exceptional or stunning, but they’re so damn effective. Curry is one of the most advantageous players in the league, a testament to his brain in that he waits for opponents to make their move before striking like a rattlesnake, exposing a mistake we didn’t know was there. It’s almost as if we learn more about his defender’s weaknesses than Curry’s strengths. Stephen Curry: what a teacher.
Show of Hands is a feature involving you (the loyal reader) and your valuable opinion. From time to time, questions will be raised in an effort to explore the many various topics our beloved NBA has to offer. Don’t be shy; have a look and place a vote.