Manu20
03-30-2005, 12:30 PM
By Eric Neel
Page 2
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=neel/050330&num=0
I'm all about the underdog. Speed of lightning, roar of thunder; that's how I roll. I've got Richmond Spiders spinning webs in my office window as we speak. I recite my Matthew 5:5 and I love my Errol Flynn in a feathered cap. The '75 Warriors are my Leon Spinks. Leon Spinks is my '88 Dodgers. And I like my miracle the way I like my Reunite – on ice.
But I tell ya, I look at the upcoming NBA playoff picture and I can't help but think: Crush the little guys, kill 'em dead.
I don't want to hear about how "dangerous" and "fun" the Nuggets are. I've got no love for the Chicago story. And I'm through talking about the Wizards and Sonics, too.
This year, I'm rooting for the favorites all the way. I want to see Miami and Detroit come roaring out of the east like the Hounds of Hell. And out west, I want San Antonio to play like San Antonio and the Suns to play as well as they have all season.
Why?
I've got my reasons.
For one, this ain't about flying into the heart of the Deathstar any more. The Lakers are dead. When they had the league's most dangerous codependency cycle running full tilt, you couldn't root for them; and unless you were a native of Southern California, you were, in fact, compelled to root against them. The whole of the outside world rallied around anyone who took 'em on. Every game, every series, was a struggle between good and evil. If you loved kittens, you hated the Lakers. If you believed in the rights of workers and in the fundamental soullessness of The Man who holds them down, you also believed the Lakers must fall.
But it's different now. There is no one team, no lightning rod. Maybe the Pistons will become that club, but they aren't there yet. And in the absence of that kind of dominance, we've got a genuine, thoroughbred, pick-your-pony horse race for the crown this year. A Cinderella story is something you trot out when the race looks already won. In a year like this, it's just a worn-out nag.
You gotta want to see Tony Parker match up with Steve Nash in the playoffs, don't you?
Two, how about some respect? The Spurs, should it be the Spurs (and I still think it will be the Spurs), deserve some deep love, the kind we've been slathering all over the Patriots these last few years, the kind reserved for understated grace and greatness. Lookahere, if San Antonio wins, that's two titles in the last three years and three in the last six. We're talking about a team that's gone 419-175 since 1997, about a club with a higher winning percentage than any other team in the four major sports over that eight-year span.
But they're like the silent dynasty. They've done it the right way, without public clashes or extracurricular headline grabs. They've got a truly egoless superstar center. They play team defense. They're consistent. They move the ball. And in addition to their stars, they consistently and effectively incorporate key role players (from Avery Johnson to Beno Udrih) into their attack. Why waste time and energy rooting for the underdog when we've got such an appealing overdog in the mix? Why not root for the Spurs to get what they deserve?
Three, the future of the free world is at stake. The Suns aren't just a 53-17 juggernaut, they're also standard-bearers for the new-again NBA running game. They lose to Denver or Memphis in the first round and it's going to be a hot topic for about a week; but if the whole idea of running, and the fun that comes with it, beats a retreat right along with them, that upset's going to be cold comfort.
Four, I want to know if the Pistons have legs. Last summer, they were a terrific novelty act; and this spring, we're all wondering who this year's Pistons will be. But I've got a better question: Will the Pistons be this year's Pistons?
The drama of coming out of nowhere is a cheap thrill. Show me a club that can ride out that wave of euphoria, settle itself and get serious about winning it all over again, and I'll show you something worth watching. They struggled early, they had a strong second half going, and then they've been swooning of late. Who are they? I want to see this team back in a six- or seven-game conference finals, sweating bullets and busting tail, trying to prove it can make the leap from "lightning in a bottle" to "force to be reckoned with."
Five, the longer Dwyane Wade plays, the better the basketball is. This is a simple declaration. The "we hold these truths to be self-evident" part is implied.
Six, it's Instant Classic time. Styles make fights and San Antonio-Phoenix has Parker and Nash, Duncan and Stoudemire, Popovich and D'Antoni, Ginobili and Marion, discipline and aggression, experience and enthusiasm, all going head-to-head.
And in the east, it's a Shaq thing, of course. First of all, we're talking about more news conferences and interviews with The Daddy (good times for both reporter and reader alike). Secondly, and more importantly, we're talking about the answer to a question. Last year, Shaq scored 21.5 ppg and grabbed 11.5 rpg for a team that went 56-26 in the regular season and advanced to the Finals, where, despite his 26.6 and 10.8, it was beaten like a drum. So far this season, O'Neal's been good for 22.8 ppg and 10.5 rpg and has helped his club go 53-18 through the first five months of the regular season.
So you got to ask yourself (like you know he's asking himself): Even if he steps it up, and even if D-Wade is every bit as good as Kobe is, and even if the supporting cast comes up big, will it be nearly enough to beat Detroit's balanced, quick, defensive club? And you got to ask yourself (like you know he's asking himself): Does he have something more, something we haven't seen in years, left to give? Can he make magic here and now, and bury Kobe, Phil, the '04 Pistons and anyone else you want to name, beneath a big ol' live-action monument to The Shaquille O'Neal Era?
If he does, if he can, it'll be epic. If he doesn't, if he can't, it'll be tragic. And either way, it'll be classic.
Seven, after the Heat and Pistons, the Eastern Conference is a weak cup o' joe and a stale donut don't nobody want to eat. Only the Celtics look at all interesting, and that's mostly because we're all watching and waiting to see when the ego bomb goes boom. After that, it's just what we wonder about AI-Webber, how we wish Kidd and Carter were enough, and what we hope for from the Bulls and LeBron's boys some time down the road.
And eight, after the Spurs and Suns, the West isn't a whole lot more appealing.
The Sonics can't stop grousing and sulking all of a sudden. (Not that Sonics fans should worry, because, you know, it's only their star and their heart-and-soul guys, Ray Ray and Smoochie, making with the "we don't get the big picture" noises.)
The Rockets – is it Yao's stiff smile, JVG's stiff offense, or the fact that a stiff named Scott Padgett gets 13 minutes a night – just don't inspire.
The Mavs? Yadda.
The Kings? Yadda Yadda.
And I know most people are counting the wins (eight of their last 10) in Denver. But right now, I'm working a different rubric, in which you take the number of times an exasperated George Karl yells "Carmelo!" with his face shriveled and twisted like a 10-day-old party balloon, divide it by the number of times Carmelo turns his back on George (effectively saying, "Talk to the braids, Coach. Talk to the braids"), and multiply that by the number of knowledgeable fans outside of Colorado who actually believe the Nuggets have a chance to be anything more than a spoiler, as they were in '94. It's called the "Mutumbo? Yo Mama" Index; and it sits right now, as it has for weeks, at 0.00. (Or as my high school chemistry teacher, Mr. Schaeffer, used to say, "Zeeeeeeeeero.")
So there's my list, an overdog's apologia. But the truth is, I make no apologies on this. This isn't a season for the little guys or the long shots. We get all jacked up by the NCAA Tournament and we think everything has to play like an upset. But in the Association, in '05, I'm all about the heavyweights.
Underdogs need not apply.
Page 2
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=neel/050330&num=0
I'm all about the underdog. Speed of lightning, roar of thunder; that's how I roll. I've got Richmond Spiders spinning webs in my office window as we speak. I recite my Matthew 5:5 and I love my Errol Flynn in a feathered cap. The '75 Warriors are my Leon Spinks. Leon Spinks is my '88 Dodgers. And I like my miracle the way I like my Reunite – on ice.
But I tell ya, I look at the upcoming NBA playoff picture and I can't help but think: Crush the little guys, kill 'em dead.
I don't want to hear about how "dangerous" and "fun" the Nuggets are. I've got no love for the Chicago story. And I'm through talking about the Wizards and Sonics, too.
This year, I'm rooting for the favorites all the way. I want to see Miami and Detroit come roaring out of the east like the Hounds of Hell. And out west, I want San Antonio to play like San Antonio and the Suns to play as well as they have all season.
Why?
I've got my reasons.
For one, this ain't about flying into the heart of the Deathstar any more. The Lakers are dead. When they had the league's most dangerous codependency cycle running full tilt, you couldn't root for them; and unless you were a native of Southern California, you were, in fact, compelled to root against them. The whole of the outside world rallied around anyone who took 'em on. Every game, every series, was a struggle between good and evil. If you loved kittens, you hated the Lakers. If you believed in the rights of workers and in the fundamental soullessness of The Man who holds them down, you also believed the Lakers must fall.
But it's different now. There is no one team, no lightning rod. Maybe the Pistons will become that club, but they aren't there yet. And in the absence of that kind of dominance, we've got a genuine, thoroughbred, pick-your-pony horse race for the crown this year. A Cinderella story is something you trot out when the race looks already won. In a year like this, it's just a worn-out nag.
You gotta want to see Tony Parker match up with Steve Nash in the playoffs, don't you?
Two, how about some respect? The Spurs, should it be the Spurs (and I still think it will be the Spurs), deserve some deep love, the kind we've been slathering all over the Patriots these last few years, the kind reserved for understated grace and greatness. Lookahere, if San Antonio wins, that's two titles in the last three years and three in the last six. We're talking about a team that's gone 419-175 since 1997, about a club with a higher winning percentage than any other team in the four major sports over that eight-year span.
But they're like the silent dynasty. They've done it the right way, without public clashes or extracurricular headline grabs. They've got a truly egoless superstar center. They play team defense. They're consistent. They move the ball. And in addition to their stars, they consistently and effectively incorporate key role players (from Avery Johnson to Beno Udrih) into their attack. Why waste time and energy rooting for the underdog when we've got such an appealing overdog in the mix? Why not root for the Spurs to get what they deserve?
Three, the future of the free world is at stake. The Suns aren't just a 53-17 juggernaut, they're also standard-bearers for the new-again NBA running game. They lose to Denver or Memphis in the first round and it's going to be a hot topic for about a week; but if the whole idea of running, and the fun that comes with it, beats a retreat right along with them, that upset's going to be cold comfort.
Four, I want to know if the Pistons have legs. Last summer, they were a terrific novelty act; and this spring, we're all wondering who this year's Pistons will be. But I've got a better question: Will the Pistons be this year's Pistons?
The drama of coming out of nowhere is a cheap thrill. Show me a club that can ride out that wave of euphoria, settle itself and get serious about winning it all over again, and I'll show you something worth watching. They struggled early, they had a strong second half going, and then they've been swooning of late. Who are they? I want to see this team back in a six- or seven-game conference finals, sweating bullets and busting tail, trying to prove it can make the leap from "lightning in a bottle" to "force to be reckoned with."
Five, the longer Dwyane Wade plays, the better the basketball is. This is a simple declaration. The "we hold these truths to be self-evident" part is implied.
Six, it's Instant Classic time. Styles make fights and San Antonio-Phoenix has Parker and Nash, Duncan and Stoudemire, Popovich and D'Antoni, Ginobili and Marion, discipline and aggression, experience and enthusiasm, all going head-to-head.
And in the east, it's a Shaq thing, of course. First of all, we're talking about more news conferences and interviews with The Daddy (good times for both reporter and reader alike). Secondly, and more importantly, we're talking about the answer to a question. Last year, Shaq scored 21.5 ppg and grabbed 11.5 rpg for a team that went 56-26 in the regular season and advanced to the Finals, where, despite his 26.6 and 10.8, it was beaten like a drum. So far this season, O'Neal's been good for 22.8 ppg and 10.5 rpg and has helped his club go 53-18 through the first five months of the regular season.
So you got to ask yourself (like you know he's asking himself): Even if he steps it up, and even if D-Wade is every bit as good as Kobe is, and even if the supporting cast comes up big, will it be nearly enough to beat Detroit's balanced, quick, defensive club? And you got to ask yourself (like you know he's asking himself): Does he have something more, something we haven't seen in years, left to give? Can he make magic here and now, and bury Kobe, Phil, the '04 Pistons and anyone else you want to name, beneath a big ol' live-action monument to The Shaquille O'Neal Era?
If he does, if he can, it'll be epic. If he doesn't, if he can't, it'll be tragic. And either way, it'll be classic.
Seven, after the Heat and Pistons, the Eastern Conference is a weak cup o' joe and a stale donut don't nobody want to eat. Only the Celtics look at all interesting, and that's mostly because we're all watching and waiting to see when the ego bomb goes boom. After that, it's just what we wonder about AI-Webber, how we wish Kidd and Carter were enough, and what we hope for from the Bulls and LeBron's boys some time down the road.
And eight, after the Spurs and Suns, the West isn't a whole lot more appealing.
The Sonics can't stop grousing and sulking all of a sudden. (Not that Sonics fans should worry, because, you know, it's only their star and their heart-and-soul guys, Ray Ray and Smoochie, making with the "we don't get the big picture" noises.)
The Rockets – is it Yao's stiff smile, JVG's stiff offense, or the fact that a stiff named Scott Padgett gets 13 minutes a night – just don't inspire.
The Mavs? Yadda.
The Kings? Yadda Yadda.
And I know most people are counting the wins (eight of their last 10) in Denver. But right now, I'm working a different rubric, in which you take the number of times an exasperated George Karl yells "Carmelo!" with his face shriveled and twisted like a 10-day-old party balloon, divide it by the number of times Carmelo turns his back on George (effectively saying, "Talk to the braids, Coach. Talk to the braids"), and multiply that by the number of knowledgeable fans outside of Colorado who actually believe the Nuggets have a chance to be anything more than a spoiler, as they were in '94. It's called the "Mutumbo? Yo Mama" Index; and it sits right now, as it has for weeks, at 0.00. (Or as my high school chemistry teacher, Mr. Schaeffer, used to say, "Zeeeeeeeeero.")
So there's my list, an overdog's apologia. But the truth is, I make no apologies on this. This isn't a season for the little guys or the long shots. We get all jacked up by the NCAA Tournament and we think everything has to play like an upset. But in the Association, in '05, I'm all about the heavyweights.
Underdogs need not apply.