Showing posts with label NBA. Show all posts
Showing posts with label NBA. Show all posts

Friday, July 18, 2014

Upon Further Review: Lance Will Be Missed

First appeared on July 18, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

Lance Stephenson’s signing with the Charlotte Hornets, or Bobcats, or Hornets again, whatever they've decided to call themselves this season, generated almost no buzz whatsoever. Considering it is the deadest sports week of the year, this must leave those in the Stephenson camp feeling somewhat inadequate; like a 'let's go buy a monster truck and cut the tailpipe off it and accelerate loudly through a retirement village trying to scare people' kind of inadequate'.

This in the wake of LeBron’s decision to return to Cleveland, one broadcast in 195 different countries and every planet from Earth to the one Vladimir Putin calls home. Meanwhile, Charlotte is bracing for Stephenson’s arrival as if he were Hurricane Lance instead of a mercurial, multi-talented guard who does nothing but play hard, agitate opponents and do his physical best to run through walls on a nightly basis.

And while only a loon would ever argue fans owe professional athletes anything, in this case one small exception should be made. And before you get started, it’s not about cars and gold watches and chains or free beer vouchers for the State Fair, though I’m sure this would be welcomed by even the craziest of loons.

In this case let us offer a kind-hearted “Thank you”. Thank you Lance, for being the junkyard dog. Thank you for caring in those times it appeared many of your teammates had forgotten the basic fundamentals of team basketball or the definition of the word 'compete'. Thank you for the triple doubles and spectacular finishes at the rim. Thank you for your goofy All Star video and your ‘never, ever, no matter what happens will I ever back down’ attitude.

While I’m at it, we probably owe you an apology for any Ron Artest comparisons you’ve endured. For all practical purposes, your actions never warranted those. People considered your roots and the things you were perceived to be capable of while passing judgment. You played for a franchise whose greatest player was renowned for flashing choke signs and is run by the NBA’s single greatest trash talker of all time; so if giving a choke sign and blowing in someone’s ear are the worst things you do in life, kudos.

For some, Lance’s departure is a somber moment. Don't confuse this with a eulogy for the Pacers title chances for that will come in November if they plan to head into next season with the current roster. Heart, toughness and playmaking are just three things the Pacers will lack in Stephenson’s absence.

Few can argue there were instances where the ball stuck in his hands. Despite this, nearly every time the Pacers appeared rudderless, Lance was the only one who consistently tried his best to right the ship. He was a hard-nosed, high energy guy and that’s not something many in the NBA can boast on a resume.

It would seem we’ve been all too quick to forget the times the Pacers were booed off the floor last year (see being down 30 to Atlanta in the first half). In those games, Stephenson was by himself playing his brains out. He was a wild stallion who did his best to stay in the stall, who fought the urge to go ‘all out playground’ on opponents and tried as best he could to operate within the framework of Frank Vogel’s system; though we all witnessed how extremely difficult this was for him at times.

So now he’s left for greener pastures. And though a max contract guy he may never be, he was an important piece of the Pacer puzzle and one that must be replaced with another gutty playmaker. If this can’t be done, then the remaining roster has to be reshuffled. Either way, if the Pacers plan to contend in the East again, then their off season must be far from over.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Indiana Pacers will survive this Deep Freeze

First appeared on March 14, 2014
in The Lebanon Reporter

You know it’s too cold when a young and energetic State Representative, entirely convinced he was brought into this world to enact real change, surrenders and submits a bill to the Indiana House mandating the statewide erection of Penguin Crossing signs. What happened to the Global Warming goons and their rising temperatures? I suppose I need to get out and drive my car more. Turn on all the lights in my house and install a coal chute on my fireplace. Maybe that would warm this place up.

Perhaps the Indiana Pacers current free-fall is simply art imitating life. Losers of four in a row up until Boston came to town, Indiana helped the Celtics carry their bags from the bus, for nothing can stop a losing streak faster than facing a roster comprised largely of players who should be buried deep on another team’s bench.

How could a team with the best record in professional basketball appear so uncompetitive? Who knows. Why do news outlets insist on giving us poll numbers when we know they’ve been calling the same people over and over again for years? I don’t know about you, but nobody has ever phoned me about chemical weapons in Syria.

Some contend Indiana’s tailspin stems from a lack of ball movement, others blame poor defense. They look disinterested as a group, tired or it’s the impotent play of their young stud who’s been too busy reading writers far more gifted and relevant than yours truly telling the free world how talented he is. I’m sure at some point all of these apply and if I knew the real answer you’d find me interviewing Greg Popovich during a time out on national television.

Perhaps the Pacers, like their fans, have succumbed to temptation, looking past the remaining games on the schedule. The Playoffs are so close everyone with a horse still in the race can smell them. A potpourri of stale hot dogs, historic moments and 17,000 exuberant people with varying philosophies on personal hygiene sharing a poorly ventilated space in late May.

The playoffs, a place where Championships roam free in herds so large a man could sit down and watch them pass for days. Packed arenas in full throat and fervor, watching with wide eyes as careers are made and ruined with the bounce of one ball.

The unfortunate fact in all this is the Pacers are contractually bound to play the rest of the games on their schedule. Sure we’d all walk across the street to watch a seven game series with Miami tomorrow, but alas Milwaukee calls.

Milwaukee with its 51 losses and semi-professional roster, including one go-getter who stopped in mid play while his team was on defense earlier in the season to tie his shoe. Saying there are too many games in the NBA regular season is like saying Washington doesn’t work. We understand it’s a proven fact and to discuss it is simply beating a horse that died during the Stone Age.

So the Pacers are left to pick up the pieces and move on. Speaking in proverbials, they must rally, right the ship, circle the wagons and get everyone on the same page. It will warm up at some point and so too will the Pacers.

In the meantime sit back and enjoy the ride, this long and winding detour through Antarctica will soon be over and the Playoffs will be here. And if a banner is hung in Bankers Life come June, all the plunging temperatures, burst pipes and time spent digging out, which triggered an avalanche of blustery blizzard-like blues so deep and wide it buried our souls long ago, will have all been worth it somehow.

© 2014 Eric Walker Williams

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Thursday, March 28, 2013

Proof in the Pudding Sweet for Big Ten

First appeared on March 27th, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

When I was 14 I saw Rex Chapman in the Indiana-Kentucky All Star Game. After it was over I asked Kentucky’s Mr. Basketball for his autograph and he punched my dad in the face and burnt down the orphanage for handicapped Somali children my parents ran out of their home. OK-so maybe that didn’t happen exactly as I recall, but for a myriad of reasons I did learn to loathe Chapman while he was at Kentucky.

Who knows where my Rex-o-phobia began, perhaps it’s simply the hatred for Kentucky that, like a love for anything breaded and deep fried, comes to Hoosiers naturally. More likely it’s, despite our similar age and love of basketball, Chapman was a high school All Star, Division one stand out and 10 plus year veteran of the NBA and I clearly was not.

But recently Rex erased any doubt of my overall disdain for him when the former Kentucky Wildcat said the Big Ten was “overrated” and the Big East was “the best conference in America”. This affront led me to settle things in true Hoosier fashion; one on one with Rex Chapman.

Arranging a game with Chapman wouldn’t be easy considering getting him back in Indiana would probably be the equivalent of helping Robert E. Lee book a vacation to Gettysburg or asking Magic Johnson to come back to late night TV. Ours would be a virtual tussle.
Chapman made millions in the NBA and has a job as an analyst on the Tru TV Halftime show. In between diaper changes and my many other duties as a patriotic American, I hammer out stories of debatable journalistic merit that the local paper uses as filler when things are so slow they’re unable to locate other, more relevant news. Advantage Chapman.

Chapman was a two time participant in the NBA Dunk Contest and I…well advantage Rex. Once sporting a proud hair helmet that was half mullet, half jerry-curl and entirely backwoods fabulous, Chapman has since moved on to the ever popular shaved head look so many aging sports stars subscribe to. Begrudgingly, advantage Chapman.

As for the picks, the part time pretend journalist in me wanted more information but after googling “Rex Chapman’s bracket” all that came up was some obscure fishing rod contraption Chapman may or may not have endorsed when money got tight after retiring from the NBA. I’d have to stick to his man-crush on the Big East.

After the first three rounds of the Men’s Tournament the Big East Conference has gone 6-5 while the Big Ten has posted a sparkling 10-3 record. Advantage me. Of these six wins, it should be noted two came from Marquette who could have lost twice if not for a boneheaded cross court pass and botched out of bounds play by Butler.

The Sweet 16 includes four Big Ten teams and three from the soon to be imploded Big East including the aforementioned Marquette and what’s left of their nine lives. Point me. According to CBS.com the Big Ten’s conference RPI is second only to the Mountain West; and while I’m no mathematician and haven’t studied the full list, I’m fairly certain this places the Big Ten ahead of the Big East. Advantage clearly me.

So we stand eye to eye, score knotted at 3. Thursday’s showdown between Indiana and Syracuse looms featuring two legendary programs. And, because we’re both too out of shape to continue, Chapman offers the couch on his front porch and we agree to let it ride on Thursday’s Big Ten/Big East face off. Winner takes all, once and for all.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

Friday, March 1, 2013

This Time Maybe It's Not About the Money

First appeared on February 25, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

A gallon of premium gasoline hit $4.00 this week. And, for those looking to diversify their chosen method of transportation, they aren’t giving hogs away either. We in the 99% realize money is tight these days and, with the ‘Roaring Twenties’ firmly in our rearview, most in the Midwest have been raised to keep an eye on the sky and a tight grip on their wallets.

So you go to the coffee shop for a bottomless cup, knowing it’s also one of the last places a free newspaper still exists, one without pay walls and pop ups. But the rack is empty so you slide to the counter, sandwiched between an insurance man on the prowl and a newly retired newspaperman. The buzzing chatter seems to intimate Al Qaeda is behind the rising price of hogs and the Indiana Pacers are fighting a rash of empty seats downtown.

The team itself is surely not to blame you theorize, after all they’ve axed ticket prices, given away everything from umbrellas to bobble head dolls, hired plate twirlers who set themselves on fire while swallowing a fistful of Asian Forest Scorpions just to entertain the folks at halftime and still, despite all this, the Fieldhouse remains half empty.

At 14 games over .500 Indiana has one of the top teams in the East, one that has already defeated the defending World Champions twice this season. One that includes a group of young men who trust each other, know no jealousies and can rely upon the services of a budding superstar poised to leave many Pacer fans wondering “Reggie who?” soon. And still it’s not been enough to get people to put down the remote, load the kids in the car and drop a hard earned Benjamin Franklin at BLF.

Considering there is no half-full optimism in the Pacers Marketing Department, they must be wondering if maybe, this time anyhow, it’s not about money. When one takes a second to look at the state of the NBA (for a second is all many can tolerate anyway) it isn’t entirely clear what one sees. Clearly it boasts the most athletic and ultra talented basketball players on Earth playing a fast paced, physical game above the rim. One might be left believing this alone would be enough to spin the turnstiles nightly but such has not been the case, at least not in Indianapolis.

Some blame the Colts, others the Hoosiers and still another lost soul makes some hair brained proclamation it’s somehow or another connected to race. Alas many have missed the most obvious of villains; apathy. Apathy, not about the Pacers themselves, but rather what the Association has become.

Apathy borne from multimillionaires complaining about having to practice and wear ties to games. Apathy that results from seeing a self-proclaimed Superman quit on his team only to fly cross-country with designs on teaming up with a Superstar. One already in possession of a reputation for taking 95% of the shots and yet we pretend to be shocked when his spoiled toddler shtick continues after discovering the aforementioned Superstar continues taking 95% of the shots.

Apathy that can only result from a man already living the dream of millions intentionally firing an air ball up in a game before storming to the locker room upon learning his coach is somehow disappointed in him. If I could hand David Stern a solution we’d all be eating bacon on our doughnuts and driving Hummers. Until then, understand apathy here means fans lack the hunger required to jump those hoops associated with attending games; and the sooner the NBA addresses this, the better.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

Sunday, February 10, 2013

ESPN is Wrecking College Basketball

First appeared on February 6th, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

What is it about ESPN that makes them so loathsome yet completely irresistible simultaneously? From steroids in baseball to Favre and Tebow, ESPN truly is the only great, relatively inexpensive and 100% absolutely legal, mind-altering drug of our generation.

I’ll be the first to admit I once had a problem. My life revolved around SportsCenter. Days weren’t complete without it. When my cable was out for a week I became irritable and lashed out at others, going so far as to dress my dog in a Sanchez jersey screaming “You’re no Tebow!” at him. But I’ve since moved on, after discovering a whole new world outside watching sports highlights on television exists and also after it became clear ESPN panders to a demographic that sees me as old and creepy.

And so it’s only now, with the clairvoyant perspective one can only have from looking in from the outside, that things are clear. ESPN brings College Game Day to Bloomington and the masses turn out to holler and carry on as if ours is some great dark corner of the world where nothing of note happens and nobody matters. And in these moments, with the white hot spotlight upon them, the talking heads are contractually obligated to fill air time and generate tweet-worthy commentary.

It should be enough to say Victor Oladipo is a really good college basketball player. One who’s built himself from an unknown recruit to one of the best in college. Instead they’re compelled to predict all that could go wrong, as if a nine dollar snowglobe from the ESPN.com gift shop were a functioning crystal ball.
Different players wearing the same tired labels. He’s too short, he’s not the prototypical NBA guard, he doesn’t have the range you need on the next level and he’s too nice so there’s no way he’ll ever shoot up a night club or openly complain about having to practice.

Cody Zeller’s draft stock rises and falls on a near hourly basis as if being driven by the gravity of the moon. Yes Zeller was the single largest reason Indiana, and Tom Crean, turned things around. In fact, in going from 6 wins to the top ranked team in the country, we haven’t seen a resurrection like this since Betty White turned up at halftime of the Super Bowl. But he’s not going to be the next Tim Duncan and if you think this perhaps you should take all the money you have and bury it in the backyard right now.

It should be enough for Zeller that he helped Indiana return to glory. Mr. Basketball, High School State Champion, Trester Award winner. What else do we need him to do? Find a cure for cancer on his way to the basket? Leave the kid alone. Let him be a college sophomore. Celebrate him for who he is and not who he may or may not be someday.

It’s become simply exhausting, and hokey. Forsaking innovative programming, ESPN has instead become list happy, ranking everything from pregame meals to anti-inflammatory creams. Could it be that every player or coach they cover is the best at something? “He has to be the most talented left handed sixth man not born in the United States playing in college basketball today”.

Rank what they may and label what they will, ESPN and their millions still can’t fabricate moments like Christian Watford’s shot over Kentucky. The allure of these lies in the reaction, not the tease. So let your cameras roll ESPN for we want to witness all the nouns we wouldn’t normally. In the meantime live by the mantra “produce more, pontificate less”.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

Monday, January 21, 2013

Pacers Surging, not Surprising

First appeared on January 17, 2013
in The Lebanon Reporter

When I was ten years old my English teacher became so distraught at my inability to make a lower case cursive q she had me sweating my chances at making fifth grade. “Why can’t you be more like Adam Montgomery?” she would croon and howl as I squiggled out one puny lower case cursive q after another.

In my defense Adam Montgomery was state of the art. What with his Rockwellian family, athletic prowess and flawless upper case D. First in gym class sprints, first in board races, line leader and hall monitor, Montgomery was the kind of kid who would have stood in front of Mt. Rushmore huffing, “I thought it’d be bigger.”

Nobody measured up to Adam Montgomery, and the incessant comparisons my teachers made turned most exhausting by our Senior year. My being forever doomed to a coach seat on the midnight train to Nowheresville made Adam Montgomery seem larger than life. As if he didn’t put his pants on one leg at a time and still need a mother’s reminder to close the barn door like everyone else.

I never mastered the lower case q and, looking back now, I don’t know what’s more surprising, the fact Adam Montgomery isn’t a world renowned guru making regular visits to the White House as a handwriting tutor for the Obama girls, or that I haven’t used cursive since fifth grade.

But it would seem Adam Montgomery and the Miami Heat aren’t far apart in their state of the art-ed-ness. The talking heads say nobody can beat the Heat, so it is the remainder of this much too long season and impending playoffs are about as relevant as the Mayan calendar.

If Montgomery was the Heat before the Heat were even the Heat then, in my teacher's eyes, I surely was the Pacers. Of course I was a much shorter, slower, less athletic and not as wealthy version, but the point here lies in the opinion of the masses being Montgomery was invincible.

Over the last week the Heat have proven themselves human. Losers of 4 out of their last 7, Miami suddenly doesn’t seem like the sure-fire lock for another Eastern Conference Title they once did. And meanwhile the Pacers are surging.

Surging without the “one time soon to be face of the franchise” Danny Granger in the line up. Surging despite all the NBA headlines targeting the dysfunctional Lakers, bloviating that a cure for more wins could lie in their firing of a second coach this season alone. Surging in spite of a maxed out center stumbling through an awkward, midseason identity crisis.

Surging on the wings of a budding young superstar who is discovering himself more and more with every game. But, most notably, surging on the wings of solid defense being played with consistent effort. This last part of the equation was notably absent earlier in the season (see the 90-89 loss to Charlotte in November and subsequent 4-6 start). In giving a solid defensive effort every night, Indiana seems to have found its niche.

And it’s been their ability to channel this “inner Adam Montgomery” that’s led to Indiana’s correcting a season that was bordering a steep, irreversible nose dive. A correction that’s seen their ascension to the top spot in the Central Division and third best record in the East.

But will it be enough? None of us could ever reach the stratosphere Adam Montgomery so nonchalantly called home back then and it still remains to be seen if anyone in the NBA, Pacers included, can match the Heat stride for stride come April.

© 2013 Eric Walker Williams

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

Pacers can't let big Roy walk

First appeared on July 10th,2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

It’s the unexpected that keeps us moving forward. Most can forecast the mundane with greater accuracy than an AMS certified weatherman. Things like bills, bad reports from the dentist or the fact your yard will at some point need to be mowed again are all the harsh realities of life; but it’s those little nuggets of the unexpected that keep us on our toes.

Things like a co-worker’s comment that digs at you for days or the moment the Bachelorette gets interrupted by a Special Report just as she’s about to tell a fourth different guy she loves him or worse yet how about the Pacers finding out their biggest worry this off season won’t be bolstering their bench after all.

After completing his fourth season Pacers big man Roy Hibbert is a Restricted Free Agent. Many believed Hibbert would attract interest but nothing that would possibly lead him to google “Indianapolis area U-Haul dealers”. But a max deal from Portland has completely muddied the waters and now Hibberts future has never been more uncertain.

The first sign of trouble for the Pacers Brass was likely Hibbert’s selection to the All Star Team this past season. While they beamed for the press and slapped big Roy on the back during the announcement, what the photographs failed to show were the wheels that were already spinning in their minds. The math is easy to do even for those of us who loathe it.

All Stars command more money. And not only is Roy an All Star but he’s also one who works hard on his game and goes out of his way be a positive force in the community. From here the answer is simple. Sign Hibbert. Of course it’s far more complex than that.

There are factors at play here that a team of MIT Scientists and doctoral level economists can’t even put into terms simple enough to keep us from reacting like a monkey that’s just been handed processed banana chips in a vacuum sealed bag.
In this case the unexpected is painfully clear however.

Indiana needs to do whatever it takes to keep Hibbert in a Pacer uniform. And ‘whatever it takes’ means there appear to be many options the talking heads have overlooked. Hijacking a Brinks truck and setting up a counterfeiting ring in the basement of Bankers Life Fieldhouse are just two illegal methods that leap to mind. If public relations weren’t an issue the Pacers suits could go downtown and sit at the corner of Illinois and Maryland with a cup and cardboard sign reading “Keep Roy”. Lottery tickets, putting $10 million on Red and an Area 55 IPO are some of the more risky options for quick cash as well.

If you can work your way past the depressing (for us, not Roy) numbers and confusing semantics of the salary cap and focus simply on basketball in its purest form (yes I understand how laughable it is to include the NBA and pure basketball in the same thought) Hibbert makes Indiana better. He’s not a 30 and 10 guy, but the list of things he does to help Indiana win games is quite lengthy.

Losing Hibbert would be a setback the Pacers would spend 3-4 years recovering from. And by that point the young promising team they’ve assembled will be a decent yet aging team making perennial trips to the first round of the playoffs and staying just long enough to dip a toe in. And if this is what actually comes of this young core, the Pacers suits will find themselves on Illinois and Maryland anyway.

© 2012 Eric Walker Williams

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Despite record, Pacers' attendance woes continue

First appeared on April 12th, 2012
in The Lebanon Reporter

In my hometown the corner barber shop was the place to go for the low down. To find out what the weather would be like that week or how much Artie Johnson paid for that new truck with the fancy running boards and tinted rain guards. It was also the place the old hayseeds gathered on Saturday mornings to ruminate the fallout of Friday night’s high school game. Old men in overalls who chewed longleaf tobacco and cursed the new varsity coach, openly lamenting the death of the underhanded free throw.

Most know Indiana for two things, the deep fried Twinkie and a long love affair with basketball. I first learned how much basketball meant to me from hearing those hayseeds, their passion as strong as their gnarled hands.

So you take a team with the 3rd best record in the NBA’s Eastern Conference and one with a budding young star grouped with a collection of no-nonsense, hardnosed players and you’d expect to find them near the top in league attendance. Especially if you were told that same team with the high flying wing and the bruising power forward played its home games in Indiana, the self-proclaimed capital of Basketball-land.

Currently however the Indiana Pacers are edging out the New Jersey nets for 29th place in attendance (convenient time to remind you there are only 30 teams in the NBA). And when you factor in the fact the Jersey mafia has more than likely killed off another 7 season ticket holders since I pounded this out, the Nets are technically drawing more people to games than we are.

So what is to explain this plague of empty seats that has fallen upon our Pacers? I, like fans of the Cleveland Cavaliers and ESPN analysts explaining why the Heat have yet to win a Title, blame LeBron. Unfortunately the NBA has become a cult of personality and Indiana, like Brother Mitt, simply has none.

When one considers every other Top Flight Playoff Team there’s no shortage of stars. Durant, Howard, Bryant, Nowitzki, the list reads like a Who’s Who of people the average basketball player wishes they were, or at the very least could be for a day. OK, so maybe a month. A month of 4 Star hotels, pregame massages, paychecks that read like a lottery windfall and an endless line of wide eyed autograph seekers you have to muster the energy just to grumble over. Just a month of that and you are happy to go back to accounting. Back to trying to determine why the guy in the cubicle next to you, the one who loves Public Radio and drives a car nobody can hear coming, always smells like cucumbers.

The Pacers could have put all their money in one hat and thrown it at a big name free agent. Maybe even Dwight Howard. Yes perhaps Superman himself would be willing to come here; if only it were written in his contract that the Pacers be willing to fire their coach anytime Howard found himself struck with the notion of course.

And if it’s not a “cult of personality” issue, then it surely is a bad case of lockout fatigue. No matter the real direction fingers need be pointed in that whole ugly lockout mess, at the end of the day you’re smart enough to realize it was still someone with more money than you would see in five lifetimes asking for even more money.

It’s a sad story indeed. And one that would surely have the old men in the barber shop spitting on the floor.


© 2012 Eric Walker Williams