duncan228
03-19-2010, 03:33 PM
All-for-One, One-for-All Mentality Still Sets Rockets Apart (http://sports.yahoo.com/nba/news?slug=tsn-allforoneoneforallme&prov=tsn&type=lgns)
SportingNews
The Houston Rockets entered this season with a revolutionary premise: A collection of role players could band together to make the playoffs and change the definition of winning NBA basketball. A league that’s been dependent on stars for marketing purposes for the last 30 years would be infiltrated by a group of scrappy players, each taking on the role of "star" from game to game depending on who was having the best night.
It almost happened by accident. Yao Ming and Tracy McGrady got injured, McGrady was shunned by the organization when he came back, and mad genius Daryl Morey had the stones to experiment without a traditional lineup hierarchy. With Yao coming back next year, it was always going to be a short-term project, yet one with the potential to change personnel decisions for a long time. Morey’s knowledge of statistics effectively steered the team in that direction—he knew that the nitty-gritty aspects of basketball could add up to success.
At first, it worked quite well. The Rockets were in prime position for a playoff spot through the first few months of the season, overcoming what looked on paper to be the least talented team in the league. Houston beat more talented teams with a combination of energy, hustle, and superior depth. They realized that, in order for an oddly put-together team to succeed, they needed to outwork the opposition. In other words, they had to raise the typical job of the role player to the heights of stars: The team would be about the little things in the same way that a team led by Dwyane Wade or LeBron James revolves around that player’s talents.
Then, after several months, they hit a snag. Several players went down with injury, energy waned as the minutes piled up, and Houston’s perpetual motion machine just couldn’t sustain itself. They fell out the West’s top eight, and Morey knew something had to change. At the deadline, he traded Carl Landry—perhaps the player who most exemplified the Rockets’ ethos—and others for Sacramento’s Kevin Martin, a player who fills the prototypical role of "star" as someone who is on the floor to score above anything else.
Since the trade, Houston has improved. They’re out-working opponents yet again, making the hustle plays, and generally looking like a team that should be in the playoffs, even though they’re now four-and-a-half games behind Portland for the eighth spot and unlikely to make the postseason.
In many ways, they’re a different team now, dependent on a more traditional hierarchy. But, as noted by Luis Scola in the Houston Chronicle earlier this week, they still play with the identity of a group of role players (http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/sports/bk/bkn/6913351.html):
“That’s a good way to judge the team,” forward Luis Scola said. “If we get all those, we may lose the game, but we feel pretty comfortable. When we don’t, even when we win, we don’t play good.”
Now, Martin isn’t a typical star; he’s humble and plays the kind of game that relies more on ruthless efficiency than awe-inspiring plays. But the fact remains that he’s a star, the kind of player who provides a clear top-down hierarchy for the rest of the team. On a typical squad, the Rockets would funnel everything towards him, with room for guys like Luis Scola and Aaron Brooks to fill in as secondary scorers.
Yet the Rockets haven’t gone in that direction. In approach and philosophy, they’re still a team of role players—Martin just fills the role of "primary scorer." He’s no more or less important than anyone else on the team, just different.
Houston’s role player jamboree didn’t work perfectly as a way to construct a team—you need players to know what role they’ll be playing from game to game, and a team built on depth and energy is likely to suffer over the course of a grueling 82-game season. But the Rockets have still been a revolutionary team, just in terms of their approach rather than their makeup. The new Rockets, much like the group that started this season, see themselves as a collection of interlocking pieces rather than a top-down structure from star to 12th man.
Even when (or "if," should he choose to opt out of his contract and go elsewhere) Yao Ming returns next season, the same identity will unite the team. Every player, no matter how much money he makes, is defined by strengths and weaknesses rather than what conventional wisdom deems "important."
This is the real statistical revolution—a movement that changes how teams approach their practical relationships on the court rather than just front office types deciding which statistics are important. The Rockets are the first basketball collective of the era, and a new model going forward.
SportingNews
The Houston Rockets entered this season with a revolutionary premise: A collection of role players could band together to make the playoffs and change the definition of winning NBA basketball. A league that’s been dependent on stars for marketing purposes for the last 30 years would be infiltrated by a group of scrappy players, each taking on the role of "star" from game to game depending on who was having the best night.
It almost happened by accident. Yao Ming and Tracy McGrady got injured, McGrady was shunned by the organization when he came back, and mad genius Daryl Morey had the stones to experiment without a traditional lineup hierarchy. With Yao coming back next year, it was always going to be a short-term project, yet one with the potential to change personnel decisions for a long time. Morey’s knowledge of statistics effectively steered the team in that direction—he knew that the nitty-gritty aspects of basketball could add up to success.
At first, it worked quite well. The Rockets were in prime position for a playoff spot through the first few months of the season, overcoming what looked on paper to be the least talented team in the league. Houston beat more talented teams with a combination of energy, hustle, and superior depth. They realized that, in order for an oddly put-together team to succeed, they needed to outwork the opposition. In other words, they had to raise the typical job of the role player to the heights of stars: The team would be about the little things in the same way that a team led by Dwyane Wade or LeBron James revolves around that player’s talents.
Then, after several months, they hit a snag. Several players went down with injury, energy waned as the minutes piled up, and Houston’s perpetual motion machine just couldn’t sustain itself. They fell out the West’s top eight, and Morey knew something had to change. At the deadline, he traded Carl Landry—perhaps the player who most exemplified the Rockets’ ethos—and others for Sacramento’s Kevin Martin, a player who fills the prototypical role of "star" as someone who is on the floor to score above anything else.
Since the trade, Houston has improved. They’re out-working opponents yet again, making the hustle plays, and generally looking like a team that should be in the playoffs, even though they’re now four-and-a-half games behind Portland for the eighth spot and unlikely to make the postseason.
In many ways, they’re a different team now, dependent on a more traditional hierarchy. But, as noted by Luis Scola in the Houston Chronicle earlier this week, they still play with the identity of a group of role players (http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/sports/bk/bkn/6913351.html):
“That’s a good way to judge the team,” forward Luis Scola said. “If we get all those, we may lose the game, but we feel pretty comfortable. When we don’t, even when we win, we don’t play good.”
Now, Martin isn’t a typical star; he’s humble and plays the kind of game that relies more on ruthless efficiency than awe-inspiring plays. But the fact remains that he’s a star, the kind of player who provides a clear top-down hierarchy for the rest of the team. On a typical squad, the Rockets would funnel everything towards him, with room for guys like Luis Scola and Aaron Brooks to fill in as secondary scorers.
Yet the Rockets haven’t gone in that direction. In approach and philosophy, they’re still a team of role players—Martin just fills the role of "primary scorer." He’s no more or less important than anyone else on the team, just different.
Houston’s role player jamboree didn’t work perfectly as a way to construct a team—you need players to know what role they’ll be playing from game to game, and a team built on depth and energy is likely to suffer over the course of a grueling 82-game season. But the Rockets have still been a revolutionary team, just in terms of their approach rather than their makeup. The new Rockets, much like the group that started this season, see themselves as a collection of interlocking pieces rather than a top-down structure from star to 12th man.
Even when (or "if," should he choose to opt out of his contract and go elsewhere) Yao Ming returns next season, the same identity will unite the team. Every player, no matter how much money he makes, is defined by strengths and weaknesses rather than what conventional wisdom deems "important."
This is the real statistical revolution—a movement that changes how teams approach their practical relationships on the court rather than just front office types deciding which statistics are important. The Rockets are the first basketball collective of the era, and a new model going forward.