HarlemHeat37
11-15-2009, 09:44 PM
He has Duncan ranked as the #7 player in NBA history..this is the write-up he had about him..some of it might be fucked up, because I copied it from the ebook, and the Sony reader is kind of annoying..#6 is Wilt..he has Kobe ranked at #8, Hakeem at #10, and Shaq at #11..
I once asked my father, "Would you read a column about how underrated Tim Duncan is?"
Dad made a face. He played with his hair. He seemed confused. "A whole column on Tim Duncan?"
"You wouldn't read it?"
"I don't think so. I'd see the headline, skim the first two paragraphs, and flip to the next article."
"Seriously? He's the best player of the past ten years!"
"Naah," Dad maintained. "Nobody wants to read about Tim Duncan. He's not that interesting."
At least that's what Dad keeps telling himself. Duncan's prowess had been a sore subject with him (and me) since the 1997 lottery, when the Celtics had a 36% chance of landing the first pick and San Antonio plucked it away. Our lost savior carried the Spurs to four titles over the next decade, a number that could have stretched to six if not for Fisher's miracle shot in 2004 and Nowitzki's heroic three-point play in 2006. What did we miss besides the slew of 58-win seasons and a few titles? For starters, the chance to follow the most consistent superstar in NBA history: just year after year of 23-12's, 25-13's and 21-11's with 50% shooting. He kicked things off by submitting one of the best post-merger debut seasons: 21-12, 271 stocks, 56 wins, first-team All-NBA and Rookie of the Year. He captured a title in his second season, succeeding McHale and Hakeem as the Dude with the Most Low-Post Moves Who Should Be Double-Teamed at All Times. And it went from there. His placid demeanor never wavered, nor did his trademark shot(an old-school banker off the glass). Still chugging along as a top-five player after 1000-plus regular season and Playoffs games, he made up for the natural erosion in physical skills with an ever-expanding hoops IQ; he's been the league's smartest player for nearly his entire career. If there's a major difference between Young Duncan and Old Duncan, it's how he kept improving as a help defender and overall communicator. Whenever I watch the Spurs in person, that's the first thing I always notice: how well they talk on defense. It's a friendly, competitive chatter, like five buddies maintaining a running dialogue at a blackjack table as they figure out ways to bust the dealer. Duncan remains the hub of it all, the oversize big brother looking out for everyone else, the one who always seems to be throwing an arm around a teammates shoulder. He's their defensive anchor, smartest player, emotional leader, crunch-time scorer and most competitive gamer, one of those rare superstars who can't be measured by statistics alone. Fifty years from now, some stat geek will crunch numbers from Duncan's era and come to the conclusion that Duncan wasn't better than Karl Malone. And he'll be wrong.
Now, I'm not a fan of the whole overrated/underrated thing. With so many TV and radio shows, columnists, bloggers and educated sports fans around, it's nearly impossible for anything to be rated improperly anymore. But I say Tim Duncan is underrated. You know what else? I say he's wildly underrated. Four rings, two MVPs, three Finals MVPs and nine first-team All-NBA nods...and he's still going strong. Do you realize his best teammates were Robinson(turned 33 in Duncan's rookie year), Ginobili(never a top 15 player) and Parker(ditto)? Or that he never played for a dominant team because the Spurs were always trapped atop the standings, relying on failed late-round picks, foreign rookies, journeymen, aging vets and head cases with baggage for "new" blood? Maybe that's one reason we failed to appreciated him: he never starred for a potential 70-win juggernaut that generated a slew of the regular season hype. Another reason: even at his peak, he always had a little too much Pete Sampras in him. He Lacked Shaq's sense of humor, Kobe's singular intensity, KG's menacing demeanor, Iverson's swagger, Lebron's jaw-dropping athleticism, Wade's knack of self-promotion, Nash's fan-friendly skills or even Dirk's villainous fist pump. The defining Duncan quality? The way he buldged his eyes in disbelief after every dubious call, a grating habit that become old within a few years. His other "problem" was steadfast consistency. If you keep banging out first-class seasons with none standing out more than any other, who's going to notice after a while?
There's a precedent: once upon a time, Harrison Ford pumped out monster hits for fifteen solid years before everyone suddenly noticed, "Wait a second--Harrison Ford is unquestionably the biggest movie star of his generation!" From 1977 to 1992, Ford starred in three Star Wars movies, three Indiana Jones movies, Blade Runner, Working Girl, Witness, Presumed Innocent and Patriot Games, but it wasn't until he carried The Fugitive that everyone realized he was consistently more bankable than Stallone, Reynolds, Eastwood, Cruise, Costner, Schwarzenegger and every other peer. As with Duncan, we knew little about Ford outside of his work. As with Duncan, there wasn't anything inherently compelling about him. Ford only worried about delivering the goods, and we eventually appreciated him for it.
Will the same happen for Duncan someday? It's not like he lacks numbers or credentials. He closed out a '99 Lakers sweep against Shaq with a 37 points, 14 rebounds, 4 assists and a 33 points, 14 rebounds, 4 assists in Games 3 and 4, averaged a 27-14 in the '99 Finals, and became the second-youngest player to win Finals MVP. He carried a truly underwhelming supporting cast to a high 2002 playoff seed by topping 3200 minutes, 2000 points, 1000 boards, 300 assists, and 200 blocks by season's end. In the '02 playoffs, battling the two-time defending champs with a crappy team and Robinson missing the first two games, Duncan averaged a 29-17-5 in a five-game loss to eventual champ LA (superior to Shaq's 21-12-3). During one seven-game stretch against the Lakers and Mavericks in the '03 Playoffs, he averaged 31 Points, 17 Rebounds, and 6 Assists (and closed out Shaq's team with a 37-16-4). He cruised to a 2003 Finals MVP by throttling Jersey with a 24-17-5, closing the Nets out with a near quadruple double (a should-have-been-legendary 21-20-10-8) and getting little help from an aging Robinson (playoffs: 7.8 PPG, 6.6 RPG) or anyone else (Parker, Ginobili and Stephen Jackson combined for less than 37 PPG and shot 40% combined). After a discouraging summer in 2004 (Fisher's shocker and a crushing Olympics defeat), a visibly worn Duncan adopted Pedro Serrano's bald/goatee look, fought through nagging injuries and led the Spurs over Detroit in a choppy Finals, winning Finals MVP by default despite Ben Wallace and Rasheed Wallace tag-teaming him for seven games. (Phoenix's Mike D'Antoni summed it up best: "Duncan is the ultimate winner, and that's why they're so good...I hate saying it, but he's the best player in the NBA." Translation: Duncan is so good, I just threw my 2005 MVP under the bus.) When he captured a fourth title with his best Spurs team (2007), he officially grabbed the "greatest power forward ever" belt. For his first twelve years of his career, Duncan was never not one of the league's top three most untradeable players.
And yet...you're not totally sold. You remember Shaq bulldozing through everyone for three straight Finals. You remember Hakeem grabbing the center torch in '94 and '95. You remember Moses carrying Philly in the "Fo Fo Fo" season, beating up Kareem and putting up that crazy 51-32 game in 1981. You don't really remember Duncan going Keyser Soze on anyone. That's what bothers you. To be ranked this high, you had to kick a little ass, right? (Here's my counter: Look at his 2003 season again. He left a trail of asses. It's true.) But really, that's what made him more special than anything-- like Bird, Russell and Magic, he always saved his A-game for when his team desperately needed it. The perfect Duncan game? 22 points, 13 rebounds, 3 blocks, get everyone else involved, anchor the defense, win by 10, everyone goes home. He didn't give a crap about stats. He really didn't. Remember when the media stupidly voted Parker the 2007 Finals MVP? Nobody was happier for him than Duncan. That's what makes Duncan great. If you want to play the "What unique trait will we remember about him?" card, go with this one: he could also play any style. During the deadly slow-it-down, grind-it-out, defense-beats-offense era (1999-2004), Duncan won 2 titles. During the transition period as everyone adjusted to the new rules (2005-6, when the NBA called hand checking and allowed moving picks), he won a third title. In the drive-and-dish/offense-beats-defense/small-ball era, he won a fourth crown and excelled as one of the few big guys polished enough to punish players down low and talented enough to guard quicker players on the other end. For the purposes of this book, he made everyone else better and came through when it mattered. I don't know what's left.
You would have wanted to play with Tim Duncan. The man had no holes. Except for the fact that my dad probably skipped this section of the book and went right to Wilt.
I once asked my father, "Would you read a column about how underrated Tim Duncan is?"
Dad made a face. He played with his hair. He seemed confused. "A whole column on Tim Duncan?"
"You wouldn't read it?"
"I don't think so. I'd see the headline, skim the first two paragraphs, and flip to the next article."
"Seriously? He's the best player of the past ten years!"
"Naah," Dad maintained. "Nobody wants to read about Tim Duncan. He's not that interesting."
At least that's what Dad keeps telling himself. Duncan's prowess had been a sore subject with him (and me) since the 1997 lottery, when the Celtics had a 36% chance of landing the first pick and San Antonio plucked it away. Our lost savior carried the Spurs to four titles over the next decade, a number that could have stretched to six if not for Fisher's miracle shot in 2004 and Nowitzki's heroic three-point play in 2006. What did we miss besides the slew of 58-win seasons and a few titles? For starters, the chance to follow the most consistent superstar in NBA history: just year after year of 23-12's, 25-13's and 21-11's with 50% shooting. He kicked things off by submitting one of the best post-merger debut seasons: 21-12, 271 stocks, 56 wins, first-team All-NBA and Rookie of the Year. He captured a title in his second season, succeeding McHale and Hakeem as the Dude with the Most Low-Post Moves Who Should Be Double-Teamed at All Times. And it went from there. His placid demeanor never wavered, nor did his trademark shot(an old-school banker off the glass). Still chugging along as a top-five player after 1000-plus regular season and Playoffs games, he made up for the natural erosion in physical skills with an ever-expanding hoops IQ; he's been the league's smartest player for nearly his entire career. If there's a major difference between Young Duncan and Old Duncan, it's how he kept improving as a help defender and overall communicator. Whenever I watch the Spurs in person, that's the first thing I always notice: how well they talk on defense. It's a friendly, competitive chatter, like five buddies maintaining a running dialogue at a blackjack table as they figure out ways to bust the dealer. Duncan remains the hub of it all, the oversize big brother looking out for everyone else, the one who always seems to be throwing an arm around a teammates shoulder. He's their defensive anchor, smartest player, emotional leader, crunch-time scorer and most competitive gamer, one of those rare superstars who can't be measured by statistics alone. Fifty years from now, some stat geek will crunch numbers from Duncan's era and come to the conclusion that Duncan wasn't better than Karl Malone. And he'll be wrong.
Now, I'm not a fan of the whole overrated/underrated thing. With so many TV and radio shows, columnists, bloggers and educated sports fans around, it's nearly impossible for anything to be rated improperly anymore. But I say Tim Duncan is underrated. You know what else? I say he's wildly underrated. Four rings, two MVPs, three Finals MVPs and nine first-team All-NBA nods...and he's still going strong. Do you realize his best teammates were Robinson(turned 33 in Duncan's rookie year), Ginobili(never a top 15 player) and Parker(ditto)? Or that he never played for a dominant team because the Spurs were always trapped atop the standings, relying on failed late-round picks, foreign rookies, journeymen, aging vets and head cases with baggage for "new" blood? Maybe that's one reason we failed to appreciated him: he never starred for a potential 70-win juggernaut that generated a slew of the regular season hype. Another reason: even at his peak, he always had a little too much Pete Sampras in him. He Lacked Shaq's sense of humor, Kobe's singular intensity, KG's menacing demeanor, Iverson's swagger, Lebron's jaw-dropping athleticism, Wade's knack of self-promotion, Nash's fan-friendly skills or even Dirk's villainous fist pump. The defining Duncan quality? The way he buldged his eyes in disbelief after every dubious call, a grating habit that become old within a few years. His other "problem" was steadfast consistency. If you keep banging out first-class seasons with none standing out more than any other, who's going to notice after a while?
There's a precedent: once upon a time, Harrison Ford pumped out monster hits for fifteen solid years before everyone suddenly noticed, "Wait a second--Harrison Ford is unquestionably the biggest movie star of his generation!" From 1977 to 1992, Ford starred in three Star Wars movies, three Indiana Jones movies, Blade Runner, Working Girl, Witness, Presumed Innocent and Patriot Games, but it wasn't until he carried The Fugitive that everyone realized he was consistently more bankable than Stallone, Reynolds, Eastwood, Cruise, Costner, Schwarzenegger and every other peer. As with Duncan, we knew little about Ford outside of his work. As with Duncan, there wasn't anything inherently compelling about him. Ford only worried about delivering the goods, and we eventually appreciated him for it.
Will the same happen for Duncan someday? It's not like he lacks numbers or credentials. He closed out a '99 Lakers sweep against Shaq with a 37 points, 14 rebounds, 4 assists and a 33 points, 14 rebounds, 4 assists in Games 3 and 4, averaged a 27-14 in the '99 Finals, and became the second-youngest player to win Finals MVP. He carried a truly underwhelming supporting cast to a high 2002 playoff seed by topping 3200 minutes, 2000 points, 1000 boards, 300 assists, and 200 blocks by season's end. In the '02 playoffs, battling the two-time defending champs with a crappy team and Robinson missing the first two games, Duncan averaged a 29-17-5 in a five-game loss to eventual champ LA (superior to Shaq's 21-12-3). During one seven-game stretch against the Lakers and Mavericks in the '03 Playoffs, he averaged 31 Points, 17 Rebounds, and 6 Assists (and closed out Shaq's team with a 37-16-4). He cruised to a 2003 Finals MVP by throttling Jersey with a 24-17-5, closing the Nets out with a near quadruple double (a should-have-been-legendary 21-20-10-8) and getting little help from an aging Robinson (playoffs: 7.8 PPG, 6.6 RPG) or anyone else (Parker, Ginobili and Stephen Jackson combined for less than 37 PPG and shot 40% combined). After a discouraging summer in 2004 (Fisher's shocker and a crushing Olympics defeat), a visibly worn Duncan adopted Pedro Serrano's bald/goatee look, fought through nagging injuries and led the Spurs over Detroit in a choppy Finals, winning Finals MVP by default despite Ben Wallace and Rasheed Wallace tag-teaming him for seven games. (Phoenix's Mike D'Antoni summed it up best: "Duncan is the ultimate winner, and that's why they're so good...I hate saying it, but he's the best player in the NBA." Translation: Duncan is so good, I just threw my 2005 MVP under the bus.) When he captured a fourth title with his best Spurs team (2007), he officially grabbed the "greatest power forward ever" belt. For his first twelve years of his career, Duncan was never not one of the league's top three most untradeable players.
And yet...you're not totally sold. You remember Shaq bulldozing through everyone for three straight Finals. You remember Hakeem grabbing the center torch in '94 and '95. You remember Moses carrying Philly in the "Fo Fo Fo" season, beating up Kareem and putting up that crazy 51-32 game in 1981. You don't really remember Duncan going Keyser Soze on anyone. That's what bothers you. To be ranked this high, you had to kick a little ass, right? (Here's my counter: Look at his 2003 season again. He left a trail of asses. It's true.) But really, that's what made him more special than anything-- like Bird, Russell and Magic, he always saved his A-game for when his team desperately needed it. The perfect Duncan game? 22 points, 13 rebounds, 3 blocks, get everyone else involved, anchor the defense, win by 10, everyone goes home. He didn't give a crap about stats. He really didn't. Remember when the media stupidly voted Parker the 2007 Finals MVP? Nobody was happier for him than Duncan. That's what makes Duncan great. If you want to play the "What unique trait will we remember about him?" card, go with this one: he could also play any style. During the deadly slow-it-down, grind-it-out, defense-beats-offense era (1999-2004), Duncan won 2 titles. During the transition period as everyone adjusted to the new rules (2005-6, when the NBA called hand checking and allowed moving picks), he won a third title. In the drive-and-dish/offense-beats-defense/small-ball era, he won a fourth crown and excelled as one of the few big guys polished enough to punish players down low and talented enough to guard quicker players on the other end. For the purposes of this book, he made everyone else better and came through when it mattered. I don't know what's left.
You would have wanted to play with Tim Duncan. The man had no holes. Except for the fact that my dad probably skipped this section of the book and went right to Wilt.