TMTTRIO
03-20-2007, 09:13 AM
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/200...tion=si_latest
Waiting Game
Every player wants to be a starter -- no one really wants to be known as a great sixth man. But with a super sixth, like Dallas's Jerry Stackhouse, sparking each of the league's top three teams, the role of top sub has been revitalized
Posted: Tuesday March 20, 2007 8:54AM; Updated: Tuesday March 20, 2007 8:54AM
Even though he doesn't start, Stackhouse (42) can still fill it up, as the Suns found out.
Greg Nelson/SI
Once a prime-time player, a slashing swingman who averaged 29.8 points for the Detroit Pistons six seasons ago, Jerry Stackhouse is now a bystander when the Dallas Mavericks announce their lineup to pyrotechnics and ear-splitting noise at American Airlines Center. His sweats on, he rolls his shoulders and jogs in place as the starters' names are called, knowing he won't be needed until midway through the first quarter, at the earliest. "Sometimes over on the bench you stiffen up a little bit when you don't get in right away," says Stackhouse. "But it's just something to deal with."
And he is dealing with it well. Stackhouse is among the favorites to win the Sixth Man Award, an honor with which, like most sixth men, he would rather not be favored. "I can't speak for everyone," says Stackhouse, who was averaging 11.5 points at week's end and erupted for a team-high 33 in the Mavs' 129-127 double-overtime loss to the Phoenix Suns on March 14, "but I'd rather be starting."
Stackhouse finds himself sitting out the intros because the value of the sixth man, which had bottomed out in recent years, is on the rise again. For the last seven weeks Spurs coach Gregg Popovich has been bringing Manu Ginóbili, arguably San Antonio's best player after Tim Duncan, off the bench. (Ginóbili was averaging 18.1 points in that span, compared with 16.9 overall.) "A lot of guys who have won the award have been [de facto] starters," says Ginóbili's teammate Brent Barry, one of two players (along with Michael Finley) who filled the supersub role when Ginóbili was in the opening lineup. "They're playing starter minutes, 36 or 37, and the starting guy is playing 14."
To be eligible for the Sixth Man Award, a player simply must "come off the bench in more games than he starts." By the end of the season that standard may apply to Ginóbili. For now, Stackhouse's main competition is Leandro Barbosa, perhaps the quickest player in the league. The Suns' fourth-year combo guard from Brazil was averaging 17.4 points and 4.2 assists at week's end, and he led Phoenix in scoring in three straight wins earlier this month. In other words, the three best teams in the West -- and in the league -- have superior sixth men.
So do two of the top clubs in the East. Anderson Varejăo, a 6'10" forward, causes a sort of constructive chaos when he enters the fray for the Cleveland Cavaliers. And the surprising Toronto Raptors have been bolstered by 7-foot sharpshooter Andrea Bargnani, the top pick in the 2006 draft, who was averaging 11.5 points. But a winning atmosphere is not necessary for a productive sixth man; even on teams just scrapping to make the playoffs, there can be found ready, willing and able firemen. "I have only one thought when I go in there, and that's to play harder than anybody else," says the New York Knicks' 6'9" forward David Lee, who is averaging a double double -- 11.2 points and 10.7 rebounds -- on the season (12 starts) but has not played since developing a stress reaction in his right leg on Feb. 23. "I have to. They've been going at it for a while, and I'm trying to catch up."
When healthy, Lee, an overcaffeinated version of Varejăo, will grab rebounds, follow missed shots, dive for loose balls and play ferocious interior defense. (Merely in his kinetic energy he's a contrast to Knicks center Eddy Curry, whose D runs the gamut from indolent to indifferent.) Lee fulfills the classic role of a sixth man: to turn up the heat on the court and in the building. The Madison Square Garden fans begin cheering for him as soon as he rises from the bench, and by the time he reaches the scorer's table they're going nuts. "I don't even have to look up from my computer," says Howard Beck, who covers the team for The New York Times, "because I know it's for David."
In all likelihood, and for a variety of reasons (as we'll see), none of these players are on a course to become a long-term sixth man in the tradition established by the Boston Celtics. The most famous Shamrock of the pine is 6'5" swingman John Havlicek, who was a sixth man at the start of his 16-year Hall of Fame career, which began in 1962. But he was not the Celtics' first. That honor belonged to Frank Ramsey, a 6'3" swingman whom coach Red Auerbach used in the role from the mid-1950s until Havlicek's arrival. "It just kind of evolved," says Ramsey, 75, from his home in Madisonville, Ky. "I don't even remember anyone talking about it until maybe my third year. 'Hey, you're a great sixth man,' I'd hear. 'O.K.,' I'd say, 'I'm a sixth man.'"
Ramsey was a terrific offensive player -- he averaged 13.4 points over his nine-year career and was elected to the Hall of Fame -- but he couldn't beat out Bob Cousy or Bill Sharman at guard, or Tommy Heinsohn at forward. He might have been a better all-around player than Boston's other starting forward, Jim Loscutoff, but Auerbach liked Loscy's size, not to mention his willingness to inflict pain and suffering on opponents.
Because Heinsohn got gassed easily -- he was a heavy smoker -- Ramsey usually made his entrance in the first quarter. And since he came in for a player known as Tommy Gun, Ramsey knew he had to put points on the board. "Maybe it was because I was playing against other reserves, but it did seem like I was open a lot," says Ramsey. "Of course, the way we ran and Bill [Russell] rebounded, most of us were open a lot."
Havlicek, Boston's alltime leading scorer, was the NBA's top reserve through the 1960s, but the role remained fairly uncommon for another decade. The league presented its first Sixth Man Award in '83, to Philadelphia 76ers forward Bobby Jones. Marc Iavaroni, now a Suns assistant coach, had a serviceable seven-year career as a power forward, but he is remembered only for being a ceremonial starter on a championship team. "Nobody ever had to tell me that Bobby was better than me," says Iavaroni. "I knew it myself."
The list of All-Star-caliber players who won the Sixth Man Award continued: Boston big men Kevin McHale and Bill Walton, Milwaukee Bucks swingman Ricky Pierce (the only winner to lead a team in scoring, with 23.0 points per game in 1989-90), Phoenix forward Eddie Johnson, Indiana Pacers forward Detlef Schrempf and Chicago Bulls forward Toni Kukoc. The position was so capably filled that any number of outstanding subs never won the award: Vinnie Johnson, nicknamed the Microwave because he heated up so fast for the championship Detroit Pistons teams of '89 and '90; Michael Cooper, a three-point specialist and defensive ace on three Los Angeles Lakers title teams; and Thurl Bailey, an outstanding all-around forward who came off the bench for the Utah Jazz for six seasons beginning in 1985-86.
Some of those names belie a common perception about the role: that it is the province of out-on-the-floor players who handle the ball and can get their own shots quickly and often. That's what Ramsey and Havlicek did, though Havlicek was also a good defender. And both Vinnie and Eddie Johnson as well as Pierce fit that mold, as do Stackhouse, Barbosa and Ginóbili. But McHale was an inside scorer and Walton (by the 1985-86 season) was mostly an inside distributor. Jones was an all-arounder, as were Schrempf and Kukoc.
"What you have to provide in the role," says Cooper, "is something unique. The things that Havlicek did were the things that I tried to do, whether it was diving for a loose ball, rebounding, making an assist or scoring -- something that wasn't happening before I got on the floor."
If today's teams do discover a catalyst off the bench, it's usually by accident. There has been no repeat Sixth Man Award winner since Schrempf earned his second in 1992, and over the last six years only two names -- guards Bobby Jackson and Earl Boykins -- have appeared more than twice in the top 10 of the voting. When the Knicks' season began, for example, coach Isiah Thomas was almost certain that guard Jamal Crawford would be his top reserve. "Heck, it's hard enough figuring out what your starting lineup is going to be," says Suns coach Mike D'Antoni. "I wasn't nearly smart enough to know that LB would be a good sixth man. It just happened."
Streak-shooting Bulls guard Ben Gordon won the Sixth Man Award as a rookie in 2005 and got off to a quick start as Chicago's off-the-bench spark at the beginning of this season, leading the team in scoring. [B]But coach Scott Skiles, needing more production early in games, inserted Gordon into the starting lineup in January. While the move has helped the Bulls surge in the standings, Skiles would have preferred to keep Gordon on ice. "[Coach] Don Nelson, my rookie year [with the Bucks], often said he felt naked without Ricky Pierce on the bench," says Skiles. "I understand that feeling."
Indeed, there are reasons that a good sixth man is hard to find. "Too many guys think they're better than the role," says Minnesota Timberwolves vice president of basketball operations McHale, who won the next two awards after Jones's. "All their agents are saying, 'Hey, my guy should start,' and their guy believes it." Players also tend not to be as versatile as some of the old-timers, and so it's not as easy to "mix and match combinations," as Miami Heat assistant Bob McAdoo, a sometime sixth man with the Lakers in the early '80s, puts it.
Then, too, expansion has diluted the talent pool. Most teams are structured to pay (or overpay) two superstars and slot in everyone else behind them. Coaches tend to build around those two players, maybe three, and not think so much about a starting five and a hot-handed sub. When Ramsey first came off the bench for the Celtics, there were eight teams in the league. He eyed the court and saw five guys whose numbers would eventually be hanging from the Boston Garden rafters. "I believed I was good enough to start," says Ramsey, "but when I looked who was in front of me, how could I complain?"
By contrast, when Memphis Grizzlies swingman Mike Miller, last season's Sixth Man winner, took a look from the bench he saw Pau Gasol and, well, Lorenzen Wright, Shane Battier, Eddie Jones and Chucky Atkins. Former coach Mike Fratello talked Miller into the role -- and Miller, an offensive-minded type, performed it well -- but he never thought for a minute that he wasn't the second-best player on the team, behind Gasol. "Mike told me from the beginning that I'd be finishing most games even if I wouldn't be starting them," says Miller, who has started all but one game this year, "and that helped me accept the role." (Virtually every sixth man, by the way, will find a way to mention that he finishes games.) :lol
Even Stackhouse, coming off the pine for the league's best team, does not see himself as a reserve. "I still have goals I want to achieve, and that's why it's imperative to try to win [a title] right now," says Stackhouse, who is averaging -- whaddya know? -- the sixth-most minutes on the team. "Then I can really assess where I want to go forward. There's no doubt in my mind I could still play starter's minutes and help the team."
In truth, the desire of sixth men to be main men is consistent throughout the NBA's history. Even Cooper admits, "Being a sixth man made my career, but I would've preferred to start." This may be the season, however, in which that perception changes, particularly if a team with a strong one (like Dallas or Phoenix) wins the championship. And Ginóbili is really enhancing the idea of a super fireman. In a win over the Atlanta Hawks on Feb. 21 he scored 24 straight points, and two weeks ago the southpaw known for his corkscrew shots and his willingness to give up his body was named Western Conference player of the week. Ginóbili believes, in fact, that his minutes are more consistent as a sixth man.
Lee, though, is not at that point. He enjoys the idea that he can turn on a crowd and turn on a team just by rising from his seat -- for now. "The other day a guy said to me, 'So, you must be ready to do this for your whole career,'" says Lee, "and I said, 'Whoa, dude, let's hold up on that.'"
Waiting Game
Every player wants to be a starter -- no one really wants to be known as a great sixth man. But with a super sixth, like Dallas's Jerry Stackhouse, sparking each of the league's top three teams, the role of top sub has been revitalized
Posted: Tuesday March 20, 2007 8:54AM; Updated: Tuesday March 20, 2007 8:54AM
Even though he doesn't start, Stackhouse (42) can still fill it up, as the Suns found out.
Greg Nelson/SI
Once a prime-time player, a slashing swingman who averaged 29.8 points for the Detroit Pistons six seasons ago, Jerry Stackhouse is now a bystander when the Dallas Mavericks announce their lineup to pyrotechnics and ear-splitting noise at American Airlines Center. His sweats on, he rolls his shoulders and jogs in place as the starters' names are called, knowing he won't be needed until midway through the first quarter, at the earliest. "Sometimes over on the bench you stiffen up a little bit when you don't get in right away," says Stackhouse. "But it's just something to deal with."
And he is dealing with it well. Stackhouse is among the favorites to win the Sixth Man Award, an honor with which, like most sixth men, he would rather not be favored. "I can't speak for everyone," says Stackhouse, who was averaging 11.5 points at week's end and erupted for a team-high 33 in the Mavs' 129-127 double-overtime loss to the Phoenix Suns on March 14, "but I'd rather be starting."
Stackhouse finds himself sitting out the intros because the value of the sixth man, which had bottomed out in recent years, is on the rise again. For the last seven weeks Spurs coach Gregg Popovich has been bringing Manu Ginóbili, arguably San Antonio's best player after Tim Duncan, off the bench. (Ginóbili was averaging 18.1 points in that span, compared with 16.9 overall.) "A lot of guys who have won the award have been [de facto] starters," says Ginóbili's teammate Brent Barry, one of two players (along with Michael Finley) who filled the supersub role when Ginóbili was in the opening lineup. "They're playing starter minutes, 36 or 37, and the starting guy is playing 14."
To be eligible for the Sixth Man Award, a player simply must "come off the bench in more games than he starts." By the end of the season that standard may apply to Ginóbili. For now, Stackhouse's main competition is Leandro Barbosa, perhaps the quickest player in the league. The Suns' fourth-year combo guard from Brazil was averaging 17.4 points and 4.2 assists at week's end, and he led Phoenix in scoring in three straight wins earlier this month. In other words, the three best teams in the West -- and in the league -- have superior sixth men.
So do two of the top clubs in the East. Anderson Varejăo, a 6'10" forward, causes a sort of constructive chaos when he enters the fray for the Cleveland Cavaliers. And the surprising Toronto Raptors have been bolstered by 7-foot sharpshooter Andrea Bargnani, the top pick in the 2006 draft, who was averaging 11.5 points. But a winning atmosphere is not necessary for a productive sixth man; even on teams just scrapping to make the playoffs, there can be found ready, willing and able firemen. "I have only one thought when I go in there, and that's to play harder than anybody else," says the New York Knicks' 6'9" forward David Lee, who is averaging a double double -- 11.2 points and 10.7 rebounds -- on the season (12 starts) but has not played since developing a stress reaction in his right leg on Feb. 23. "I have to. They've been going at it for a while, and I'm trying to catch up."
When healthy, Lee, an overcaffeinated version of Varejăo, will grab rebounds, follow missed shots, dive for loose balls and play ferocious interior defense. (Merely in his kinetic energy he's a contrast to Knicks center Eddy Curry, whose D runs the gamut from indolent to indifferent.) Lee fulfills the classic role of a sixth man: to turn up the heat on the court and in the building. The Madison Square Garden fans begin cheering for him as soon as he rises from the bench, and by the time he reaches the scorer's table they're going nuts. "I don't even have to look up from my computer," says Howard Beck, who covers the team for The New York Times, "because I know it's for David."
In all likelihood, and for a variety of reasons (as we'll see), none of these players are on a course to become a long-term sixth man in the tradition established by the Boston Celtics. The most famous Shamrock of the pine is 6'5" swingman John Havlicek, who was a sixth man at the start of his 16-year Hall of Fame career, which began in 1962. But he was not the Celtics' first. That honor belonged to Frank Ramsey, a 6'3" swingman whom coach Red Auerbach used in the role from the mid-1950s until Havlicek's arrival. "It just kind of evolved," says Ramsey, 75, from his home in Madisonville, Ky. "I don't even remember anyone talking about it until maybe my third year. 'Hey, you're a great sixth man,' I'd hear. 'O.K.,' I'd say, 'I'm a sixth man.'"
Ramsey was a terrific offensive player -- he averaged 13.4 points over his nine-year career and was elected to the Hall of Fame -- but he couldn't beat out Bob Cousy or Bill Sharman at guard, or Tommy Heinsohn at forward. He might have been a better all-around player than Boston's other starting forward, Jim Loscutoff, but Auerbach liked Loscy's size, not to mention his willingness to inflict pain and suffering on opponents.
Because Heinsohn got gassed easily -- he was a heavy smoker -- Ramsey usually made his entrance in the first quarter. And since he came in for a player known as Tommy Gun, Ramsey knew he had to put points on the board. "Maybe it was because I was playing against other reserves, but it did seem like I was open a lot," says Ramsey. "Of course, the way we ran and Bill [Russell] rebounded, most of us were open a lot."
Havlicek, Boston's alltime leading scorer, was the NBA's top reserve through the 1960s, but the role remained fairly uncommon for another decade. The league presented its first Sixth Man Award in '83, to Philadelphia 76ers forward Bobby Jones. Marc Iavaroni, now a Suns assistant coach, had a serviceable seven-year career as a power forward, but he is remembered only for being a ceremonial starter on a championship team. "Nobody ever had to tell me that Bobby was better than me," says Iavaroni. "I knew it myself."
The list of All-Star-caliber players who won the Sixth Man Award continued: Boston big men Kevin McHale and Bill Walton, Milwaukee Bucks swingman Ricky Pierce (the only winner to lead a team in scoring, with 23.0 points per game in 1989-90), Phoenix forward Eddie Johnson, Indiana Pacers forward Detlef Schrempf and Chicago Bulls forward Toni Kukoc. The position was so capably filled that any number of outstanding subs never won the award: Vinnie Johnson, nicknamed the Microwave because he heated up so fast for the championship Detroit Pistons teams of '89 and '90; Michael Cooper, a three-point specialist and defensive ace on three Los Angeles Lakers title teams; and Thurl Bailey, an outstanding all-around forward who came off the bench for the Utah Jazz for six seasons beginning in 1985-86.
Some of those names belie a common perception about the role: that it is the province of out-on-the-floor players who handle the ball and can get their own shots quickly and often. That's what Ramsey and Havlicek did, though Havlicek was also a good defender. And both Vinnie and Eddie Johnson as well as Pierce fit that mold, as do Stackhouse, Barbosa and Ginóbili. But McHale was an inside scorer and Walton (by the 1985-86 season) was mostly an inside distributor. Jones was an all-arounder, as were Schrempf and Kukoc.
"What you have to provide in the role," says Cooper, "is something unique. The things that Havlicek did were the things that I tried to do, whether it was diving for a loose ball, rebounding, making an assist or scoring -- something that wasn't happening before I got on the floor."
If today's teams do discover a catalyst off the bench, it's usually by accident. There has been no repeat Sixth Man Award winner since Schrempf earned his second in 1992, and over the last six years only two names -- guards Bobby Jackson and Earl Boykins -- have appeared more than twice in the top 10 of the voting. When the Knicks' season began, for example, coach Isiah Thomas was almost certain that guard Jamal Crawford would be his top reserve. "Heck, it's hard enough figuring out what your starting lineup is going to be," says Suns coach Mike D'Antoni. "I wasn't nearly smart enough to know that LB would be a good sixth man. It just happened."
Streak-shooting Bulls guard Ben Gordon won the Sixth Man Award as a rookie in 2005 and got off to a quick start as Chicago's off-the-bench spark at the beginning of this season, leading the team in scoring. [B]But coach Scott Skiles, needing more production early in games, inserted Gordon into the starting lineup in January. While the move has helped the Bulls surge in the standings, Skiles would have preferred to keep Gordon on ice. "[Coach] Don Nelson, my rookie year [with the Bucks], often said he felt naked without Ricky Pierce on the bench," says Skiles. "I understand that feeling."
Indeed, there are reasons that a good sixth man is hard to find. "Too many guys think they're better than the role," says Minnesota Timberwolves vice president of basketball operations McHale, who won the next two awards after Jones's. "All their agents are saying, 'Hey, my guy should start,' and their guy believes it." Players also tend not to be as versatile as some of the old-timers, and so it's not as easy to "mix and match combinations," as Miami Heat assistant Bob McAdoo, a sometime sixth man with the Lakers in the early '80s, puts it.
Then, too, expansion has diluted the talent pool. Most teams are structured to pay (or overpay) two superstars and slot in everyone else behind them. Coaches tend to build around those two players, maybe three, and not think so much about a starting five and a hot-handed sub. When Ramsey first came off the bench for the Celtics, there were eight teams in the league. He eyed the court and saw five guys whose numbers would eventually be hanging from the Boston Garden rafters. "I believed I was good enough to start," says Ramsey, "but when I looked who was in front of me, how could I complain?"
By contrast, when Memphis Grizzlies swingman Mike Miller, last season's Sixth Man winner, took a look from the bench he saw Pau Gasol and, well, Lorenzen Wright, Shane Battier, Eddie Jones and Chucky Atkins. Former coach Mike Fratello talked Miller into the role -- and Miller, an offensive-minded type, performed it well -- but he never thought for a minute that he wasn't the second-best player on the team, behind Gasol. "Mike told me from the beginning that I'd be finishing most games even if I wouldn't be starting them," says Miller, who has started all but one game this year, "and that helped me accept the role." (Virtually every sixth man, by the way, will find a way to mention that he finishes games.) :lol
Even Stackhouse, coming off the pine for the league's best team, does not see himself as a reserve. "I still have goals I want to achieve, and that's why it's imperative to try to win [a title] right now," says Stackhouse, who is averaging -- whaddya know? -- the sixth-most minutes on the team. "Then I can really assess where I want to go forward. There's no doubt in my mind I could still play starter's minutes and help the team."
In truth, the desire of sixth men to be main men is consistent throughout the NBA's history. Even Cooper admits, "Being a sixth man made my career, but I would've preferred to start." This may be the season, however, in which that perception changes, particularly if a team with a strong one (like Dallas or Phoenix) wins the championship. And Ginóbili is really enhancing the idea of a super fireman. In a win over the Atlanta Hawks on Feb. 21 he scored 24 straight points, and two weeks ago the southpaw known for his corkscrew shots and his willingness to give up his body was named Western Conference player of the week. Ginóbili believes, in fact, that his minutes are more consistent as a sixth man.
Lee, though, is not at that point. He enjoys the idea that he can turn on a crowd and turn on a team just by rising from his seat -- for now. "The other day a guy said to me, 'So, you must be ready to do this for your whole career,'" says Lee, "and I said, 'Whoa, dude, let's hold up on that.'"