Essay: Shining A Light On Jason Terry’s Greatness

One of the best feelings that coincides with watching the NBA on a regular basis happens when you consciously recognize something great as it occurs in real time, right before your eyes. Watching game after game on a nightly basis, the most intense observer can grow numb to well-executed pick and roll defense or the spin-induced bounce pass that needles its way through the lane, like a fly avoiding a swatter. These are incredibly difficult acts regularly performed to near-perfection, yet similar to most other things in life, oftentimes they’re overlooked until the day they stop working.
Recently, I was lucky to grab one of these moments by its neck, and the memory has yet to leave my mind. It was a Wednesday night, shortly before the All-Star break, in a rematch of last year’s most shocking playoff series: Dallas against L.A. Midway through the third quarter, as the game began its rapid transformation into a back and forth heavyweight bout, the Mavericks began to throw their barrage of haymakers. With the crowd’s volume beginning to crescendo, Andrew Bynum lost the ball as he tried spinning towards the basket. As soon as Shawn Marion grabbed it in his hands, it was flipped in the air with a tad too much gusto to a streaking Jason Terry. Standing at half court, Kobe Bryant made a halfhearted play on the ball, tipping it back to Marion, of all people. Through it all Terry didn’t stop running. Marion sees him and fires an overhead pass 60 feet down the court. He’s backpedaling like a wide receiver who’s well aware that nobody’s around him; all he has to do is catch it and the reward is six points. Except in basketball, catching it is just the beginning.
The littlest Maverick grips the ball with his right hand, squares up his body to the hoop in one smooth rotation, and releases a 15-foot jump shot. There’s no thought, no hesitation, and certainly no dribble. For 99.9% of all basketball players this is an extremely difficult shot attempt in a low reward, high risk situation—a mid-range jumper with no teammate available to grab the rebound. Should it miss (the league average among shooting guards for 15-foot jump shots is about 40%), a convenient counterattack is placed in L.A.’s lap.
Maybe it was the hype of the moment, the realization that a brilliant yet underrated career is winding down, or the fact that I’d just finished a cup of coffee around 10 PM, but this was the first Jason Terry jumper that made my eyes grow a bit wider and my back arch to attention. It was in this moment that a quick realization washed over me: Jason Terry may be one of the five best shooters I’ve ever seen. Read more…







