duncan228
06-14-2007, 11:47 AM
We never get Spurs stuff here in Orange County. Not a bad piece either. The last line a hit at Kobe? :lol
http://www.ocregister.com/ocregister/sports/pros/lakers/kevindingsnbacolumn/article_1729441.php
Meet the same old Duncan and Popovich
KEVIN DING
Register columnist
NBA
[email protected]
CLEVELAND All around them in the NBA are those more glamorous and unfaithful. Gregg Popovich and Tim Duncan will settle for being more comfortable and successful.
San Antonio's old, married couple are stepping out of the shadows just long enough to take home the prize everyone wants again. With a victory tonight, the Spurs will sweep the Cleveland Cavaliers and win a fourth NBA title in nine years.
Popovich and Duncan have been happily together for 10 years, and Duncan is the only player remaining from Popovich's first title team in 1999.
If the majority of our marriages fail, then it follows that maybe the majority of our society can't identify with Popovich and Duncan. It's more than that, though, because compatible Phil Jackson and Michael Jordan commanded our interest, as did Pat Riley and Magic Johnson, and Red Auerbach and Bill Russell.
That list of names is especially relevant here, because the Spurs quietly are about to take over sole possession of fourth place in NBA history behind the Bulls (six), Lakers (14) and Celtics (16) in total championships.
There's just something about Popovich and Duncan that isn't interesting enough. And just what is that something?
Consistency.
What our apathy toward Popovich and Duncan reveals about us is that for all our harping about the need to be consistent in sports, we just hate it. It's boring. Think about it. We look to sports for an escape from what's consistent and boring about our lives, right?
Here's Duncan I'm going to edit out all the "ums" and "uhs" from his monotone speech pattern; otherwise, you might stop reading right here :lol saying that what he appreciates most about Popovich is consistency:
"He has put in a system, and he has stuck with it. It's a lot of fun to play for someone who knows exactly what he wants. He tweaks some stuff every year, but the basis of what he does and the basis of what he coaches is the same: He preaches defense, of course.
"Over the years we've changed our offense bit by bit to use what's worked in years past. But all in all, you walk in every year and you understand what he's going to ask from you, what he's going to need from you."
Spurs forward Brent Barry played for the typical mιlange of coaches with varied styles in the usual NBA life until coming to the Spurs in 2004. He has the perspective on this consistency thing.
"When you have that type of consistency," Barry said, "you have a great deal of success, because you're doing the same things over and over again so that means that you're getting better at doing those things."
It's just that watching a swimmer Duncan's sport as a youth go lap after lap after lap to shave a thousandth of a second off his time every once in awhile is not really compelling drama.
Maybe if the Spurs' mastery didn't tie in so much to recovering millimeter by millimeter on the pick-and-roll, it'd be different. But even watching Steve Nash throw the same alley-oop passes to Shawn Marion and Amare Stoudemire too many times would start to grow tedious. It already has for Marion, who is eager to be traded, and it will soon for the restless and self-absorbed Stoudemire and Phoenix hasn't even reached an NBA Finals with Nash.
This was the season when everyone got sold on Phoenix's run-and-gun style, with coaches forming a long line at the welcome mat to unlock their offenses. Most of those coaches gradually backed off when their personnel couldn't achieve any sort of Spurs-level consistency with it.
That's the basketball part of it. There's also the personal side. Robert Horry has played on far more than his share of winners yet insists there is something especially family-style about being a Spur.
Popovich is quick to give Duncan, so robotic on the court and stiff in interviews, the credit for a subtle warmth that brings people together in a small market where the arena public-address announcer simply refers to players as Tim or Tony or Fabricio or 'Cisco.
"What makes him special probably and no one really knows it is his disposition, his kindness and empathy toward other people," Popovich said, "and his sense of humor."
OK, so Popovich says Duncan is funny and Duncan says Popovich is fun, and we're all left on the outside, raising our eyebrows while they're raising banners.
They never have missed the playoffs in these 10 years together and championships aside, their .709 regular-season winning percentage is by far the best in all major sports during that time, topping the Red Wings (.669), Broncos (.638) and Yankees (.610).
On the basis of true greatness, Popovich and Duncan should've dominated the attention of the sports world for the past decade.
Now we know, though, that we won't truly recognize a dynasty unless it's ruled by drama kings.
http://www.ocregister.com/ocregister/sports/pros/lakers/kevindingsnbacolumn/article_1729441.php
Meet the same old Duncan and Popovich
KEVIN DING
Register columnist
NBA
[email protected]
CLEVELAND All around them in the NBA are those more glamorous and unfaithful. Gregg Popovich and Tim Duncan will settle for being more comfortable and successful.
San Antonio's old, married couple are stepping out of the shadows just long enough to take home the prize everyone wants again. With a victory tonight, the Spurs will sweep the Cleveland Cavaliers and win a fourth NBA title in nine years.
Popovich and Duncan have been happily together for 10 years, and Duncan is the only player remaining from Popovich's first title team in 1999.
If the majority of our marriages fail, then it follows that maybe the majority of our society can't identify with Popovich and Duncan. It's more than that, though, because compatible Phil Jackson and Michael Jordan commanded our interest, as did Pat Riley and Magic Johnson, and Red Auerbach and Bill Russell.
That list of names is especially relevant here, because the Spurs quietly are about to take over sole possession of fourth place in NBA history behind the Bulls (six), Lakers (14) and Celtics (16) in total championships.
There's just something about Popovich and Duncan that isn't interesting enough. And just what is that something?
Consistency.
What our apathy toward Popovich and Duncan reveals about us is that for all our harping about the need to be consistent in sports, we just hate it. It's boring. Think about it. We look to sports for an escape from what's consistent and boring about our lives, right?
Here's Duncan I'm going to edit out all the "ums" and "uhs" from his monotone speech pattern; otherwise, you might stop reading right here :lol saying that what he appreciates most about Popovich is consistency:
"He has put in a system, and he has stuck with it. It's a lot of fun to play for someone who knows exactly what he wants. He tweaks some stuff every year, but the basis of what he does and the basis of what he coaches is the same: He preaches defense, of course.
"Over the years we've changed our offense bit by bit to use what's worked in years past. But all in all, you walk in every year and you understand what he's going to ask from you, what he's going to need from you."
Spurs forward Brent Barry played for the typical mιlange of coaches with varied styles in the usual NBA life until coming to the Spurs in 2004. He has the perspective on this consistency thing.
"When you have that type of consistency," Barry said, "you have a great deal of success, because you're doing the same things over and over again so that means that you're getting better at doing those things."
It's just that watching a swimmer Duncan's sport as a youth go lap after lap after lap to shave a thousandth of a second off his time every once in awhile is not really compelling drama.
Maybe if the Spurs' mastery didn't tie in so much to recovering millimeter by millimeter on the pick-and-roll, it'd be different. But even watching Steve Nash throw the same alley-oop passes to Shawn Marion and Amare Stoudemire too many times would start to grow tedious. It already has for Marion, who is eager to be traded, and it will soon for the restless and self-absorbed Stoudemire and Phoenix hasn't even reached an NBA Finals with Nash.
This was the season when everyone got sold on Phoenix's run-and-gun style, with coaches forming a long line at the welcome mat to unlock their offenses. Most of those coaches gradually backed off when their personnel couldn't achieve any sort of Spurs-level consistency with it.
That's the basketball part of it. There's also the personal side. Robert Horry has played on far more than his share of winners yet insists there is something especially family-style about being a Spur.
Popovich is quick to give Duncan, so robotic on the court and stiff in interviews, the credit for a subtle warmth that brings people together in a small market where the arena public-address announcer simply refers to players as Tim or Tony or Fabricio or 'Cisco.
"What makes him special probably and no one really knows it is his disposition, his kindness and empathy toward other people," Popovich said, "and his sense of humor."
OK, so Popovich says Duncan is funny and Duncan says Popovich is fun, and we're all left on the outside, raising our eyebrows while they're raising banners.
They never have missed the playoffs in these 10 years together and championships aside, their .709 regular-season winning percentage is by far the best in all major sports during that time, topping the Red Wings (.669), Broncos (.638) and Yankees (.610).
On the basis of true greatness, Popovich and Duncan should've dominated the attention of the sports world for the past decade.
Now we know, though, that we won't truly recognize a dynasty unless it's ruled by drama kings.