Manu20
05-11-2005, 11:36 AM
By Eric Neel
Page 2
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=neel/050511&num=0
I don't want to be like this, because my mom taught me long ago that all god's children have gifts, but seriously, why even bother watching the Wizards and Sonics?
I mean, assuming you're not related to, or bound by blood, sweat and tears to root for the children of 1978 and '79, what's the point? We know where these series are headed, why spend the time?
Because we love this game. Because it ain't all about winning. Because not only were we raised by our moms, but we were raised by Jim McKay and "the human drama of athletic competition" and such.
So that's why we do, and that's why I did.
Notes from Games Deux:
Washington at Miami
• These Dr. J-as-a-late-night-DJ spots are cheesy, but I love 'em for one reason: They echo the old Doc, the 'fro, the knee pads, the soar and glide. Doc the Magic exec, Doc the studio analyst; that was some sad, buttoned-down stuff. But Doc the DJ? Now we're talking.
• Question: Was it two-for-one night at the Sizzler in Miami or something? Was it an all-you-can-eat popcorn shrimp thing? Where the heck was everyone?
• Shaquille O'Neal vs. Brendan Haywood. Reminds a fella of Jack Nicholson vs. Greg Kinnear.
• There's a thin line between a player's going from shooting poorly to announcers' invoking the name of John Starks. Larry Hughes was tightroping it for three quarters.
Somewhere about mid-third quarter, when a wide-open baseline 3 bounced off the rim like a Happy Fun Ball ("Warning: Happy Fun Ball contains a liquid core, which, if exposed due to rupture, should not be touched, inhaled, or looked at"), it looked like Hughes had fallen off. (For a while after that, he was giving up the ball on the perimeter like it might give him cooties, and dishing to Michael Ruffin like the guy might actually finish for him.)
But to his credit, he went for 13 in the fourth, runners and jumpers included. ("Won't you help to sing, These songs of freedom – all I ever have: Redemption songs.")
• Not for nothing, but I like that hula-hoop wrap-around thing Gilbert Arenas does at the free-throw line.
• Can we just talk about Dwyane Wade for a minute?
Even if we don't have the words?
I'm looking at him drive the left lane, take the body blow from Brendan Haywood and fade (not back but up, mind you) for a bucket plus one, and then a second later I'm watching him intercept an Arenas pass at one elbow, weave his way to free-throw line at the other end, and wait a half-beat on the collapsing defenders before floating a little gift with a bow for Udonis Haslem, and I'm damn near speechless. I'm thinking up words that don't exist.
Thirty-one points, 15 assists, seven rebounds, three steals and two blocks?
This guy is positively smoogly, he's fundamentally liquicious, you know what I'm saying?
• Was that Eddie Jones I saw playing for Miami? I know it's impossible, but I swear I think I saw him pull a reverse baseline slam.
Probably just a ghost.
Quick list of guys most likely to make playoff X-factor appearances when it matters most, from five to one:
5. Carlos Arroyo
4. Walter McCarty
3. Eddie Jones
2. Devin Harris
1. Big Dog
For no reason at all, I've just got a feeling about Big Dog ...
• He's not wearing a bloody sock and his boys didn't win, but years from now, when you speak of Antawn Jamison, speak of this night, would you please?
• Less than a minute to go, down by five and Arenas takes a no-dribble 3 that never had a chance.
The Wiz might be in this series if they thought even a little about shot selection.
No they wouldn't, but they'd feel a little better about themselves.
No they wouldn't, but I'd feel better about them.
Seattle at San Antonio
• Dear Magic, You're killing me, positively killing me, with the "I miss the dead bodies thing."
I made certain commitments as a boy. I gave you my heart. Why must you trample on it so?
• There are certain plays that reveal the true extent of a team's unraveling. When Antonio Daniels rises up for a jump pass and hits Reggie Evans in the back of the head in the middle of the lane (because why would Reggie be looking for the ball? He is, after all, Reggie "Hands of Stone" Evans), the Sonics' ball of string is tangled up all over the floor like so many cat toys.
• But it isn't all ugly: Ray Allen goes cross-over on Manu in the third quarter and floats a little one-hander up and over Duncan and through the net. Freakin' incredible shot. Even on a bum ankle, the man is smooth as glass.
Who's on the short list of smooth, by the way?
Call them the Johnny Mathis All-Stars: Allen, Gil Arenas, Michael Redd, T-Mac, and maybe Wally Z or Bibby. Who am I forgetting?
• Every time Manu Ginobili comes in off the bench he throws down a no-I-in-team gauntlet. That, and his freaky little runners are the gifts that keep on giving.
• Bench note: Gerald Wilkins' son and Anthony Mason could be brothers.
• With about three minutes to go in the third, the Sonics have taken eight 3's (they averaged 22.2 a game this season) and gotten to the line for 12 free throws.
There are two cardinal sins in playoff hoops:
1. Do not abandon what you do well. Yes, the Spurs defend the perimeter incredibly well (they allowed fewer 3-pointers than any other team), but you push the ball, and you run Brent Barry off picks until he cries uncle.
2. Do not be passive. Be like Dylan Thomas; do not go gently, rage against the coming of the light. Get in the lane and make them stop you or put a body on you. Rashard, Luke and AD combine for five free-throw attempts? That ain't right. In the name of all that is Gus Williams, that just ain't right.
• Tim Duncan vs. Jerome James. Reminds a fella of The GOAT and Ernie Terrell. ("What's my name?! What's my name?!")
In two games, James is putting on the kind of show that drives a fan to drink. Here's Ray Ray playing on one leg and making plays all night long at who knows what cost, here's Rashard trying to work inside and out, and then here's Jerome, looking for a Barcalounger, a bag of chips and a remote.
• Nobody's asking me, but if they did, I'd say start Antonio Daniels next game, just to set a different tone. He can get by the San Antonio guards at the top of the key, and from there, things open up for the Sonics' offense.
• Here's this series in one play: 87-74 San Antonio, about six minutes left in the fourth; Duncan sets a high pick, Parker slides off it with the ball, eases into open space just inside the free-throw line and drains a short jumper. Nothing special. No sweat about it all. You get the feeling he could do it all night. You get the feeling if Parker were more aggressive about it he could murderlize these guys all night long. And he could ...
Which brings us to the truth with which we began: These series are the equivalent of Lindsay Lohan; over and done before they even got started.
So let's cut to the chase: Let's say it's Miami and San Antonio for all the marbles.
How does it go?
Tough to say. Very tight series. Hypothetical classic.
Check some of the parallels:
Duncan. Shaq. Shaq. Duncan. With apologies to Nick Bakay, that there puts the P in Push.
Coaches? Pop comes to the big time by way of a D-III college full of bookworms, and SVG goes from being the "other" Van Gundy to being the main man. They're a couple of anti-Phils; grounded, smart, disciplined and grateful for every chance.
The unstoppable improvisor count is one-to-one, with Manu meeting his match in D-Wade.
The Heat add muscle and mental toughness with Lazarus Mourning. The Spurs do the same with the Nazr Mohammed pick-up.
Brent Barry hits a 3, Damon Jones answers.
Miami dials up some old Laker mojo with Eddie Jones and San Antonio calls them with Robert Horry with the clock winding down.
Christian Laettner brings the Mike Morgan-style wisdom and experience of playing on seven different NBA teams, which looks like an edge until you remember Tony Massenberg is playing for his 10th organization in 14 years.
Both clubs defend, move the ball, run when the opportunity presents itself, sport a deep bench and feature a spot-use, long-legged white guy with a really short haircut to back up their Hall of Fame centers.
One club has a Rasual, the other a Beno.
And on and on it goes; tight as Richie Cunningham at the free-throw line.
So how do I make the call?
First, I input the data into the WOPR. This gives me various scenarios for blasting San Antonio and Miami off the face of the earth, a spirited game of tic-tac-toe, and stirring memories of the young Ally Sheedy ... which, I'm afraid, are ultimately a distraction.
Then I meditate on the question, right up until the incense gives me a splitting headache, thereby jamming my chi like it was Skinny Minnie Gwen Miller of the World Champion Los Angeles Thunderbirds.
Then I do the math ... Shaq's three rings x Wade's quickness + two Joneses raised to the power of Zo's karma = ...
And finally, like a free safety working against the Colts, I take a wild guess.
Spurs in seven. Too much Big Dog. (I'm telling you, I've got a feeling ...)
Eric Neel is a columnist for Page 2.
Page 2
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/page2/story?page=neel/050511&num=0
I don't want to be like this, because my mom taught me long ago that all god's children have gifts, but seriously, why even bother watching the Wizards and Sonics?
I mean, assuming you're not related to, or bound by blood, sweat and tears to root for the children of 1978 and '79, what's the point? We know where these series are headed, why spend the time?
Because we love this game. Because it ain't all about winning. Because not only were we raised by our moms, but we were raised by Jim McKay and "the human drama of athletic competition" and such.
So that's why we do, and that's why I did.
Notes from Games Deux:
Washington at Miami
• These Dr. J-as-a-late-night-DJ spots are cheesy, but I love 'em for one reason: They echo the old Doc, the 'fro, the knee pads, the soar and glide. Doc the Magic exec, Doc the studio analyst; that was some sad, buttoned-down stuff. But Doc the DJ? Now we're talking.
• Question: Was it two-for-one night at the Sizzler in Miami or something? Was it an all-you-can-eat popcorn shrimp thing? Where the heck was everyone?
• Shaquille O'Neal vs. Brendan Haywood. Reminds a fella of Jack Nicholson vs. Greg Kinnear.
• There's a thin line between a player's going from shooting poorly to announcers' invoking the name of John Starks. Larry Hughes was tightroping it for three quarters.
Somewhere about mid-third quarter, when a wide-open baseline 3 bounced off the rim like a Happy Fun Ball ("Warning: Happy Fun Ball contains a liquid core, which, if exposed due to rupture, should not be touched, inhaled, or looked at"), it looked like Hughes had fallen off. (For a while after that, he was giving up the ball on the perimeter like it might give him cooties, and dishing to Michael Ruffin like the guy might actually finish for him.)
But to his credit, he went for 13 in the fourth, runners and jumpers included. ("Won't you help to sing, These songs of freedom – all I ever have: Redemption songs.")
• Not for nothing, but I like that hula-hoop wrap-around thing Gilbert Arenas does at the free-throw line.
• Can we just talk about Dwyane Wade for a minute?
Even if we don't have the words?
I'm looking at him drive the left lane, take the body blow from Brendan Haywood and fade (not back but up, mind you) for a bucket plus one, and then a second later I'm watching him intercept an Arenas pass at one elbow, weave his way to free-throw line at the other end, and wait a half-beat on the collapsing defenders before floating a little gift with a bow for Udonis Haslem, and I'm damn near speechless. I'm thinking up words that don't exist.
Thirty-one points, 15 assists, seven rebounds, three steals and two blocks?
This guy is positively smoogly, he's fundamentally liquicious, you know what I'm saying?
• Was that Eddie Jones I saw playing for Miami? I know it's impossible, but I swear I think I saw him pull a reverse baseline slam.
Probably just a ghost.
Quick list of guys most likely to make playoff X-factor appearances when it matters most, from five to one:
5. Carlos Arroyo
4. Walter McCarty
3. Eddie Jones
2. Devin Harris
1. Big Dog
For no reason at all, I've just got a feeling about Big Dog ...
• He's not wearing a bloody sock and his boys didn't win, but years from now, when you speak of Antawn Jamison, speak of this night, would you please?
• Less than a minute to go, down by five and Arenas takes a no-dribble 3 that never had a chance.
The Wiz might be in this series if they thought even a little about shot selection.
No they wouldn't, but they'd feel a little better about themselves.
No they wouldn't, but I'd feel better about them.
Seattle at San Antonio
• Dear Magic, You're killing me, positively killing me, with the "I miss the dead bodies thing."
I made certain commitments as a boy. I gave you my heart. Why must you trample on it so?
• There are certain plays that reveal the true extent of a team's unraveling. When Antonio Daniels rises up for a jump pass and hits Reggie Evans in the back of the head in the middle of the lane (because why would Reggie be looking for the ball? He is, after all, Reggie "Hands of Stone" Evans), the Sonics' ball of string is tangled up all over the floor like so many cat toys.
• But it isn't all ugly: Ray Allen goes cross-over on Manu in the third quarter and floats a little one-hander up and over Duncan and through the net. Freakin' incredible shot. Even on a bum ankle, the man is smooth as glass.
Who's on the short list of smooth, by the way?
Call them the Johnny Mathis All-Stars: Allen, Gil Arenas, Michael Redd, T-Mac, and maybe Wally Z or Bibby. Who am I forgetting?
• Every time Manu Ginobili comes in off the bench he throws down a no-I-in-team gauntlet. That, and his freaky little runners are the gifts that keep on giving.
• Bench note: Gerald Wilkins' son and Anthony Mason could be brothers.
• With about three minutes to go in the third, the Sonics have taken eight 3's (they averaged 22.2 a game this season) and gotten to the line for 12 free throws.
There are two cardinal sins in playoff hoops:
1. Do not abandon what you do well. Yes, the Spurs defend the perimeter incredibly well (they allowed fewer 3-pointers than any other team), but you push the ball, and you run Brent Barry off picks until he cries uncle.
2. Do not be passive. Be like Dylan Thomas; do not go gently, rage against the coming of the light. Get in the lane and make them stop you or put a body on you. Rashard, Luke and AD combine for five free-throw attempts? That ain't right. In the name of all that is Gus Williams, that just ain't right.
• Tim Duncan vs. Jerome James. Reminds a fella of The GOAT and Ernie Terrell. ("What's my name?! What's my name?!")
In two games, James is putting on the kind of show that drives a fan to drink. Here's Ray Ray playing on one leg and making plays all night long at who knows what cost, here's Rashard trying to work inside and out, and then here's Jerome, looking for a Barcalounger, a bag of chips and a remote.
• Nobody's asking me, but if they did, I'd say start Antonio Daniels next game, just to set a different tone. He can get by the San Antonio guards at the top of the key, and from there, things open up for the Sonics' offense.
• Here's this series in one play: 87-74 San Antonio, about six minutes left in the fourth; Duncan sets a high pick, Parker slides off it with the ball, eases into open space just inside the free-throw line and drains a short jumper. Nothing special. No sweat about it all. You get the feeling he could do it all night. You get the feeling if Parker were more aggressive about it he could murderlize these guys all night long. And he could ...
Which brings us to the truth with which we began: These series are the equivalent of Lindsay Lohan; over and done before they even got started.
So let's cut to the chase: Let's say it's Miami and San Antonio for all the marbles.
How does it go?
Tough to say. Very tight series. Hypothetical classic.
Check some of the parallels:
Duncan. Shaq. Shaq. Duncan. With apologies to Nick Bakay, that there puts the P in Push.
Coaches? Pop comes to the big time by way of a D-III college full of bookworms, and SVG goes from being the "other" Van Gundy to being the main man. They're a couple of anti-Phils; grounded, smart, disciplined and grateful for every chance.
The unstoppable improvisor count is one-to-one, with Manu meeting his match in D-Wade.
The Heat add muscle and mental toughness with Lazarus Mourning. The Spurs do the same with the Nazr Mohammed pick-up.
Brent Barry hits a 3, Damon Jones answers.
Miami dials up some old Laker mojo with Eddie Jones and San Antonio calls them with Robert Horry with the clock winding down.
Christian Laettner brings the Mike Morgan-style wisdom and experience of playing on seven different NBA teams, which looks like an edge until you remember Tony Massenberg is playing for his 10th organization in 14 years.
Both clubs defend, move the ball, run when the opportunity presents itself, sport a deep bench and feature a spot-use, long-legged white guy with a really short haircut to back up their Hall of Fame centers.
One club has a Rasual, the other a Beno.
And on and on it goes; tight as Richie Cunningham at the free-throw line.
So how do I make the call?
First, I input the data into the WOPR. This gives me various scenarios for blasting San Antonio and Miami off the face of the earth, a spirited game of tic-tac-toe, and stirring memories of the young Ally Sheedy ... which, I'm afraid, are ultimately a distraction.
Then I meditate on the question, right up until the incense gives me a splitting headache, thereby jamming my chi like it was Skinny Minnie Gwen Miller of the World Champion Los Angeles Thunderbirds.
Then I do the math ... Shaq's three rings x Wade's quickness + two Joneses raised to the power of Zo's karma = ...
And finally, like a free safety working against the Colts, I take a wild guess.
Spurs in seven. Too much Big Dog. (I'm telling you, I've got a feeling ...)
Eric Neel is a columnist for Page 2.