duncan228
05-08-2007, 02:39 PM
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/2007/writers/jack_mccallum/05/08/suns.spurs0514/index.html
(It's a long one, I thought people might want to see it. Hope it wasn't already posted, I didn't see it.)
The Champ Is Here
Sorry, Pistons, but the NBA title will be decided in the Western Conference semifinal between the Suns and the Spurs, two teams with more in common than you might think
Posted: Tuesday May 8, 2007 9:13AM; Updated: Tuesday May 8, 2007 9:13AM
Welcome to the NBA Finals. The league has thoughtfully fast-tracked its premier event to end the drama a month earlier than usual. Lord knows it's not to beat the heat (or, for that matter, the Heat, which is already beat), because this potential championship series is being contested in the high-mercury venues of Phoenix and San Antonio. But given the level of play in Sunday's opener between the Suns and the Spurs, it sure seems as if the eventual champion will come out of their Western Conference semifinal.
Yes, the Detroit Pistons, who steamrollered the Chicago Bulls in the first two games of the Eastern semis, going up 2-0 on Monday night, might have something to say about it. And, yes, the same theory was proffered last year when San Antonio and the Dallas Mavericks -- remember them? -- hooked up at this juncture in a seven-game classic. The Mavericks won, beat the Suns in the next round, then promptly collapsed against Miami in the Finals.
But both the Spurs, who won Sunday's opener 111-106 at US Airways Center in Phoenix, and the Suns, whose superstar point guard, Steve Nash, spilled more blood in Game 1 than Floyd Mayweather and Oscar De La Hoya did last Saturday night in Las Vegas, have more heart than the Duds from Big D. And though the Pistons, seemingly the class of the East, are well versed in execution and intensity, both Western teams have more talent and depth in their toolboxes than Detroit.
Although some analyzed the series on the basis of tempo -- high-octane Phoenix versus dreary, ball-control San Antonio -- one of the factors that makes both these teams so formidable is their adaptability. "The Suns have more control and rhyme to their reason than people think," says Spurs coach Gregg Popovich, "and we run more than people think." Emphasis on the latter. What was most troubling to Phoenix about Game 1 is that the triple-digit point totals should have signaled a victory. "We'd rather play in the 90s or even 80s," says San Antonio forward Tim Duncan, who had a game-high 33 points, "but we've got a lot of guys who are shooting the ball well, moving the ball well, and the points are going up on the board."
Game 1 featured, among other things: more matchup adjustments than at a swingers convention (6'7" Suns forward Shawn Marion defended 6'2" point guard Tony Parker one minute and switched onto the 6'11" Duncan the next); a technical foul called before a shot was taken in the third quarter (Suns assistant Marc Iavaroni got hit for griping about a foul whistled late in the second quarter); and a head-banging collision between Nash and Parker that left the latter on the floor but, more important, the former on the bench in crunch time
The game turned on the aftermath of that collision. After several frantic sideline attempts to patch up Nash's schnoz, he finally left the game with 54 seconds on the clock and Phoenix trailing 106-104. The role of ball handler and decision maker fell to backup Leandro Barbosa, who would brick a three-pointer (he missed six of his seven shots in the fourth) and commit a costly away-from-the-ball foul that gave San Antonio a free throw and possession. By the time Nash, sporting a disgusting bandage saturated with blood, returned with 9.1 seconds remaining, the Suns were down by four, having missed four straight shots. "Some of us have to be a little hungrier," Nash said after getting the six stitches that finally stanched the flow from his nose.
Indeed, it is still on the Suns, as it was two years ago when they lost to the Spurs in five games in the Western final, to prove that they have the toughness and moxie to compete with a team that has won three titles in the last eight seasons -- three more than Phoenix has won in its 39-year history. But what makes this series so fascinating, San Antonio's championship pedigree notwithstanding, are the similarities between two teams that seem so different. Consider:
Self-effacing superstars. Duncan would deem his life infinitely more joyful if he never had to deal with the Fourth Estate. He can be friendly and insightful, but not in a room full of microphones and cameras. Nash makes all of his dutiful appearances but sometimes does so with the joie de vivre of a man being led to his execution, as was the case after Game 1. Of course, by that time he had lost a couple pints of blood, had a needle stuck in his nose and had his eyes irritated by Collodion, a liquid adhesive that trainer Aaron Nelson had used on the bandages he frantically applied to the cut that ran almost the length of Nash's proboscis. (Plus, Nash wasn't all that happy about the final score.)
Defensive dynamos. Neither Spurs forward Bruce Bowen nor Suns swingman Raja Bell were drafted out of college, but both found their way to starting roles on elite teams by becoming hard-edged defensive specialists. They work out together in Miami in the summer and find some humor in their reputations as henchmen. "When I hear some of the bad things people say about Bruce, I can't believe it," says Bell. "Then again, they say them about me, too." Adds Bowen, "We both know what price we had to pay to get here. It's a bond we share deep in our heart."
The French connection. Parker and Phoenix forward Boris Diaw remain the best of friends, stemming from their days as callow whipping boys for the veterans on France's national team. They spent 20 minutes talking and laughing at courtside before the game, joined by countryman Ronny Turiaf, a Los Angeles Lakers forward. During the game, however, most of the laughs were Parker's -- he had 32 points. Diaw (seven points) will have to do a better job of exploiting mismatches inside throughout the remainder of the series.
Latin loose cannons. San Antonio guard Manu Ginóbili (an Argentine) can be compared with Bell in that both are excellent defenders and accomplished floppers, while Phoenix's Sixth Man Award winner, Barbosa (a Brazilian), can be compared with Parker in that both are lightning-fast, shoot-first point guards. But the best comparisons for Ginóbili and Barbosa are each other. They come off the bench and immediately supercharge the tempo of the game, either by shooting long-range jumpers or darting through small spaces and racing pell-mell to the basket.
Complex and competitive coaches. To say that Popovich is a curmudgeon and Mike D'Antoni a fraternizer is an oversimplification. D'Antoni got so incensed at a call that went against the Suns late in the game that he flung a page of plays that almost hit diet guru Jenny Craig, a loyal season-ticket holder. And though Popovich can indeed be a terror to the press -- a former Air Force counterintelligence officer, he hates to be asked to reveal intelligence -- he is never all business. Two days before the game, Popovich huddled with assistant P.J. Carlesimo in the coaches' office at the Spurs' practice facility. Given his legendary penchant for preparation, what was the subject: Whether to trap Nash at midcourt? To go at center Amaré Stoudemire with a double team from his blind side? Pop slyly held aloft a book with a familiar maroon cover -- Zagat's 2007 survey of restaurants in the Phoenix area. "We're mulling our most important pregame decision," he said, "which is where to eat on Saturday night." (They eventually chose T. Cook's, which serves Mediterranean food and has an excellent wine list, Popovich's major concern.)
An air of civility surrounded Game 1, an atmosphere that grew out of the mutual respect the franchises have for each other. There were Duncan and Suns veteran Kurt Thomas sumo wrestling for position down low, then patting each other on the back during a break in play. There was Nash, unaware that he was soon to suffer a TKO, bending down in concern as Parker lay on the court after their collision, a kinder response than Parker got from teammate Robert Horry, who said, "Get up, that's not even your blood." There was the 36-year-old Horry flashing the briefest of smiles as a Suns fan yelled, after Horry put in one of his two key three-pointers, "Hey, Rob, please retire!"
But as Spurs forward Michael Finley says, "Game 1 is a feeling-out game, and then the handshakes and the friendly feelings will disappear." As competitive as Game 1 was, the series is bound to get more intense and the eventual victor more battle-tested. "This feels a little like the Finals because of the level of competition we are going against," says Horry, who has six championship rings with three teams. "And I'm sure they feel the same about us." The Pistons would no doubt scoff at that notion. But Detroit -- or whichever team comes out of the East -- will have to up its play if it wants to prove that this Western series is only a tempting appetizer and not the main course of a postseason that, officially at least, still has a long way to go.
(It's a long one, I thought people might want to see it. Hope it wasn't already posted, I didn't see it.)
The Champ Is Here
Sorry, Pistons, but the NBA title will be decided in the Western Conference semifinal between the Suns and the Spurs, two teams with more in common than you might think
Posted: Tuesday May 8, 2007 9:13AM; Updated: Tuesday May 8, 2007 9:13AM
Welcome to the NBA Finals. The league has thoughtfully fast-tracked its premier event to end the drama a month earlier than usual. Lord knows it's not to beat the heat (or, for that matter, the Heat, which is already beat), because this potential championship series is being contested in the high-mercury venues of Phoenix and San Antonio. But given the level of play in Sunday's opener between the Suns and the Spurs, it sure seems as if the eventual champion will come out of their Western Conference semifinal.
Yes, the Detroit Pistons, who steamrollered the Chicago Bulls in the first two games of the Eastern semis, going up 2-0 on Monday night, might have something to say about it. And, yes, the same theory was proffered last year when San Antonio and the Dallas Mavericks -- remember them? -- hooked up at this juncture in a seven-game classic. The Mavericks won, beat the Suns in the next round, then promptly collapsed against Miami in the Finals.
But both the Spurs, who won Sunday's opener 111-106 at US Airways Center in Phoenix, and the Suns, whose superstar point guard, Steve Nash, spilled more blood in Game 1 than Floyd Mayweather and Oscar De La Hoya did last Saturday night in Las Vegas, have more heart than the Duds from Big D. And though the Pistons, seemingly the class of the East, are well versed in execution and intensity, both Western teams have more talent and depth in their toolboxes than Detroit.
Although some analyzed the series on the basis of tempo -- high-octane Phoenix versus dreary, ball-control San Antonio -- one of the factors that makes both these teams so formidable is their adaptability. "The Suns have more control and rhyme to their reason than people think," says Spurs coach Gregg Popovich, "and we run more than people think." Emphasis on the latter. What was most troubling to Phoenix about Game 1 is that the triple-digit point totals should have signaled a victory. "We'd rather play in the 90s or even 80s," says San Antonio forward Tim Duncan, who had a game-high 33 points, "but we've got a lot of guys who are shooting the ball well, moving the ball well, and the points are going up on the board."
Game 1 featured, among other things: more matchup adjustments than at a swingers convention (6'7" Suns forward Shawn Marion defended 6'2" point guard Tony Parker one minute and switched onto the 6'11" Duncan the next); a technical foul called before a shot was taken in the third quarter (Suns assistant Marc Iavaroni got hit for griping about a foul whistled late in the second quarter); and a head-banging collision between Nash and Parker that left the latter on the floor but, more important, the former on the bench in crunch time
The game turned on the aftermath of that collision. After several frantic sideline attempts to patch up Nash's schnoz, he finally left the game with 54 seconds on the clock and Phoenix trailing 106-104. The role of ball handler and decision maker fell to backup Leandro Barbosa, who would brick a three-pointer (he missed six of his seven shots in the fourth) and commit a costly away-from-the-ball foul that gave San Antonio a free throw and possession. By the time Nash, sporting a disgusting bandage saturated with blood, returned with 9.1 seconds remaining, the Suns were down by four, having missed four straight shots. "Some of us have to be a little hungrier," Nash said after getting the six stitches that finally stanched the flow from his nose.
Indeed, it is still on the Suns, as it was two years ago when they lost to the Spurs in five games in the Western final, to prove that they have the toughness and moxie to compete with a team that has won three titles in the last eight seasons -- three more than Phoenix has won in its 39-year history. But what makes this series so fascinating, San Antonio's championship pedigree notwithstanding, are the similarities between two teams that seem so different. Consider:
Self-effacing superstars. Duncan would deem his life infinitely more joyful if he never had to deal with the Fourth Estate. He can be friendly and insightful, but not in a room full of microphones and cameras. Nash makes all of his dutiful appearances but sometimes does so with the joie de vivre of a man being led to his execution, as was the case after Game 1. Of course, by that time he had lost a couple pints of blood, had a needle stuck in his nose and had his eyes irritated by Collodion, a liquid adhesive that trainer Aaron Nelson had used on the bandages he frantically applied to the cut that ran almost the length of Nash's proboscis. (Plus, Nash wasn't all that happy about the final score.)
Defensive dynamos. Neither Spurs forward Bruce Bowen nor Suns swingman Raja Bell were drafted out of college, but both found their way to starting roles on elite teams by becoming hard-edged defensive specialists. They work out together in Miami in the summer and find some humor in their reputations as henchmen. "When I hear some of the bad things people say about Bruce, I can't believe it," says Bell. "Then again, they say them about me, too." Adds Bowen, "We both know what price we had to pay to get here. It's a bond we share deep in our heart."
The French connection. Parker and Phoenix forward Boris Diaw remain the best of friends, stemming from their days as callow whipping boys for the veterans on France's national team. They spent 20 minutes talking and laughing at courtside before the game, joined by countryman Ronny Turiaf, a Los Angeles Lakers forward. During the game, however, most of the laughs were Parker's -- he had 32 points. Diaw (seven points) will have to do a better job of exploiting mismatches inside throughout the remainder of the series.
Latin loose cannons. San Antonio guard Manu Ginóbili (an Argentine) can be compared with Bell in that both are excellent defenders and accomplished floppers, while Phoenix's Sixth Man Award winner, Barbosa (a Brazilian), can be compared with Parker in that both are lightning-fast, shoot-first point guards. But the best comparisons for Ginóbili and Barbosa are each other. They come off the bench and immediately supercharge the tempo of the game, either by shooting long-range jumpers or darting through small spaces and racing pell-mell to the basket.
Complex and competitive coaches. To say that Popovich is a curmudgeon and Mike D'Antoni a fraternizer is an oversimplification. D'Antoni got so incensed at a call that went against the Suns late in the game that he flung a page of plays that almost hit diet guru Jenny Craig, a loyal season-ticket holder. And though Popovich can indeed be a terror to the press -- a former Air Force counterintelligence officer, he hates to be asked to reveal intelligence -- he is never all business. Two days before the game, Popovich huddled with assistant P.J. Carlesimo in the coaches' office at the Spurs' practice facility. Given his legendary penchant for preparation, what was the subject: Whether to trap Nash at midcourt? To go at center Amaré Stoudemire with a double team from his blind side? Pop slyly held aloft a book with a familiar maroon cover -- Zagat's 2007 survey of restaurants in the Phoenix area. "We're mulling our most important pregame decision," he said, "which is where to eat on Saturday night." (They eventually chose T. Cook's, which serves Mediterranean food and has an excellent wine list, Popovich's major concern.)
An air of civility surrounded Game 1, an atmosphere that grew out of the mutual respect the franchises have for each other. There were Duncan and Suns veteran Kurt Thomas sumo wrestling for position down low, then patting each other on the back during a break in play. There was Nash, unaware that he was soon to suffer a TKO, bending down in concern as Parker lay on the court after their collision, a kinder response than Parker got from teammate Robert Horry, who said, "Get up, that's not even your blood." There was the 36-year-old Horry flashing the briefest of smiles as a Suns fan yelled, after Horry put in one of his two key three-pointers, "Hey, Rob, please retire!"
But as Spurs forward Michael Finley says, "Game 1 is a feeling-out game, and then the handshakes and the friendly feelings will disappear." As competitive as Game 1 was, the series is bound to get more intense and the eventual victor more battle-tested. "This feels a little like the Finals because of the level of competition we are going against," says Horry, who has six championship rings with three teams. "And I'm sure they feel the same about us." The Pistons would no doubt scoff at that notion. But Detroit -- or whichever team comes out of the East -- will have to up its play if it wants to prove that this Western series is only a tempting appetizer and not the main course of a postseason that, officially at least, still has a long way to go.