duncan228
01-10-2008, 05:44 PM
http://insider.espn.go.com/nba/insider/columns/story?columnist=hollinger_john&page=Centers-080110&action=login&appRedirect=http%3a%2f%2finsider.espn.go.com%2fnba %2finsider%2fcolumns%2fstory%3fcolumnist%3dholling er_john%26page%3dCenters-080110
Are centers really a dying breed? Quite the contrary
By John Hollinger
Battle between two of the game's best centers? Depends who you ask and how you define a center.
"I feel like we're dinosaurs, almost done." -- Yao Ming
"There's just not a lot of us left." -- Dwight Howard
Talk to almost anyone in the NBA, and they'll tell you the same story -- that centers are a dying breed, that once Shaq retires there will hardly be any left, and that the rare battle between two true low-post players makes them misty-eyed for the days of yore. It's a consensus you'll rarely hear anyone contest.
It's also totally false.
Start clicking through games on NBA League Pass and try finding teams that are struggling in the middle -- you'll quickly see that rumors of the center's demise have been greatly exaggerated. In fact, only a few teams have a real problem at the position. By my count, there are four: Toronto, New Jersey, Seattle and (sadly) Chicago. That's it.
Four others, Atlanta, Boston, Memphis and Dallas, could be better but are getting by OK with what they've got. And an additional two teams, Miami and Portland, would be fine were it not for injuries to their star big men.
The other 20 of the league's 30 teams are somewhere between satisfied and ecstatic with their center play this season, leaving me to wonder why the perception of the center shortage continues.
Believe it or not, 28 centers have a player efficiency rating (PER) above the league average, the most of any position. And although you can debate the bona fides of a few that have been forced to the middle by circumstances (Stromile Swift, for example), the vast majority are legitimate pivot men.
Part of the problem is our definition of a center, one best exemplified by the unusual case of Tim Duncan. Duncan is a dominating low-post player who entered the league as the most coveted center since Shaq. But because David Robinson was the Spurs' starting center when Duncan came to San Antonio, the team called Duncan its power forward. And when Robinson retired in 2003, nobody updated that definition.
To this day, the Spurs introduce Duncan as a forward … even when he starts alongside shorter, lighter teammates like Fabricio Oberto, spends all of his offensive possessions in the post being guarded by the other team's center and spends all of his time on D defending the paint while guarding the opponent's center -- a job description that sounds suspiciously like that of a center.
Nonetheless, when Duncan was listed as a center on this year's All-Star ballot, it was a big controversy. Obviously, part of it stemmed from the possibility that he'd lose out to Yao Ming for a starting spot, whereas at forward he's been selected a starter for eight straight years. But it also hinted at something deeper.
Several of the media members who made the ballot said the problem was coming up with 12 centers from each conference who deserved to be on the ballot. But I'll tell you what a bigger problem was: coming up with 12 players from each conference who want to be thought of as centers, and whom the media will accept as centers.
It's a double-edged sword. Some players find the definition of a center limiting, either because it defines them as solely interior players who aren't qualified to dribble or shoot, or because it suggests they're the team's unusually tall circus freak (many players also feel this way about being listed as 7-feet tall, which is why you see a lot more 6-11s than 7-0s on your roster sheet).
Additionally, some writers seem to have subconsciously adopted Shaquille O'Neal and Eddy Curry as their standard for what a center should look like; anyone smaller, then, appears undersized. But Shaq is the biggest dude the league has ever seen, and even players in Curry's size class have always been extremely rare.
Combine those two trends, and it's easy to see why an unusual number of players are listed as forwards or forward-centers when in reality they're pretty much full-time centers. Duncan is one, but there are hordes of others. Jermaine O'Neal, Nene, Emeka Okafor, Antonio McDyess, Al Jefferson, Anderson Varejao -- all these players have been listed as forwards in recent years even as their jobs became overwhelmingly center-like. And that doesn't include the face-up players who have seen action at center, such as Amare Stoudemire, Rasheed Wallace and Marcus Camby.
Some would argue that this is part of the problem -- that back in the days of yore, these guys would have been playing power forward, and that only the lack of "true" centers forces them to play the middle now.
But look around, it's the old school, back-to-the-basket centers and traditional shot-blockers who comprise nearly all the good young players at the position. In addition to Howard, that list includes Jefferson, Okafor, Nene, Chris Kaman, Curry, Andrew Bynum, Tyson Chandler, Andrew Bogut and Andris Biedrins.
Which one of these guys doesn't meet your definition of a center? For the most part they do what centers do: They block shots, rebound, play in the paint and rarely stray out to the perimeter. They're also all 25 or younger.
They're good, too. Howard is already an All-Star, and you can imagine every other player on that list joining him at some point. Chandler, Biedrins, Howard and Bynum all are shooting better than 60 percent, while Howard, Kaman, Jefferson and Chandler are four of the league's top five rebounders.
And then there's perhaps the best young center of them all, Stoudemire. Yes, maybe he's more legitimately considered a power forward than some other players on this list. But in Phoenix's system, he's a devastatingly effective "five" who ranks third in the league in PER. Besides, is it really so outlandish to describe a 6-10, 245-pound guy as a center?
It's not just the young guys, either. What's great about the current gang of centers is that we have two different eras colliding, because while all these younger players are coming up, the old guard remains active.
Shaq is diminished but still playing and, when healthy, producing. Alonzo Mourning, Ben Wallace and Dikembe Mutombo -- three of the greatest defensive players of all time -- are still active. There's Camby, the league's reigning Defensive Player of the Year, and three other centers who have made multiple All-Star teams and remain effective -- Jermaine O'Neal, Cleveland's Zydrunas Ilgauskas and Sacramento's Brad Miller.
Is this the greatest batch of centers ever? I'm not sure I'd go that far. For one thing, the group in their primes (ages 26 to 30) isn't much to look at -- other than Yao, Samuel Dalembert and Brendan Haywood are the best of the bunch. So at best, we probably need to wait a few years for the younger generation to hit their peaks.
Additionally, they have some stiff competition. The three year span from 1992 to 1994 was a true golden age, one which featured peak or near-peak years of six likely Hall of Famers (Shaq, Mourning, Mutombo, David Robinson, Hakeem Olajuwon and Patrick Ewing) as well as several quality second-tier guys (Vlade Divac, Brad Daugherty, Rik Smits, Rony Seikaly, Pervis Ellison, Kevin Willis), plus the decline phases of a couple more Hall of Famers (Moses Malone, Robert Parish).
But when viewed in hindsight, I'm not sure the current gang will be too far away. Duncan is already an all-timer, and Yao, Howard, and Stoudemire certainly appear to be on a Hall of Fame trajectory. Throw in the huge number of quality young centers and the fact that Greg Oden has yet to play an NBA game, and I'd say the center position is as strong as it's looked in a long time.
Which makes me wonder if the problem isn't a lack of centers at all … but rather a lack of people willing to be called centers.
Are centers really a dying breed? Quite the contrary
By John Hollinger
Battle between two of the game's best centers? Depends who you ask and how you define a center.
"I feel like we're dinosaurs, almost done." -- Yao Ming
"There's just not a lot of us left." -- Dwight Howard
Talk to almost anyone in the NBA, and they'll tell you the same story -- that centers are a dying breed, that once Shaq retires there will hardly be any left, and that the rare battle between two true low-post players makes them misty-eyed for the days of yore. It's a consensus you'll rarely hear anyone contest.
It's also totally false.
Start clicking through games on NBA League Pass and try finding teams that are struggling in the middle -- you'll quickly see that rumors of the center's demise have been greatly exaggerated. In fact, only a few teams have a real problem at the position. By my count, there are four: Toronto, New Jersey, Seattle and (sadly) Chicago. That's it.
Four others, Atlanta, Boston, Memphis and Dallas, could be better but are getting by OK with what they've got. And an additional two teams, Miami and Portland, would be fine were it not for injuries to their star big men.
The other 20 of the league's 30 teams are somewhere between satisfied and ecstatic with their center play this season, leaving me to wonder why the perception of the center shortage continues.
Believe it or not, 28 centers have a player efficiency rating (PER) above the league average, the most of any position. And although you can debate the bona fides of a few that have been forced to the middle by circumstances (Stromile Swift, for example), the vast majority are legitimate pivot men.
Part of the problem is our definition of a center, one best exemplified by the unusual case of Tim Duncan. Duncan is a dominating low-post player who entered the league as the most coveted center since Shaq. But because David Robinson was the Spurs' starting center when Duncan came to San Antonio, the team called Duncan its power forward. And when Robinson retired in 2003, nobody updated that definition.
To this day, the Spurs introduce Duncan as a forward … even when he starts alongside shorter, lighter teammates like Fabricio Oberto, spends all of his offensive possessions in the post being guarded by the other team's center and spends all of his time on D defending the paint while guarding the opponent's center -- a job description that sounds suspiciously like that of a center.
Nonetheless, when Duncan was listed as a center on this year's All-Star ballot, it was a big controversy. Obviously, part of it stemmed from the possibility that he'd lose out to Yao Ming for a starting spot, whereas at forward he's been selected a starter for eight straight years. But it also hinted at something deeper.
Several of the media members who made the ballot said the problem was coming up with 12 centers from each conference who deserved to be on the ballot. But I'll tell you what a bigger problem was: coming up with 12 players from each conference who want to be thought of as centers, and whom the media will accept as centers.
It's a double-edged sword. Some players find the definition of a center limiting, either because it defines them as solely interior players who aren't qualified to dribble or shoot, or because it suggests they're the team's unusually tall circus freak (many players also feel this way about being listed as 7-feet tall, which is why you see a lot more 6-11s than 7-0s on your roster sheet).
Additionally, some writers seem to have subconsciously adopted Shaquille O'Neal and Eddy Curry as their standard for what a center should look like; anyone smaller, then, appears undersized. But Shaq is the biggest dude the league has ever seen, and even players in Curry's size class have always been extremely rare.
Combine those two trends, and it's easy to see why an unusual number of players are listed as forwards or forward-centers when in reality they're pretty much full-time centers. Duncan is one, but there are hordes of others. Jermaine O'Neal, Nene, Emeka Okafor, Antonio McDyess, Al Jefferson, Anderson Varejao -- all these players have been listed as forwards in recent years even as their jobs became overwhelmingly center-like. And that doesn't include the face-up players who have seen action at center, such as Amare Stoudemire, Rasheed Wallace and Marcus Camby.
Some would argue that this is part of the problem -- that back in the days of yore, these guys would have been playing power forward, and that only the lack of "true" centers forces them to play the middle now.
But look around, it's the old school, back-to-the-basket centers and traditional shot-blockers who comprise nearly all the good young players at the position. In addition to Howard, that list includes Jefferson, Okafor, Nene, Chris Kaman, Curry, Andrew Bynum, Tyson Chandler, Andrew Bogut and Andris Biedrins.
Which one of these guys doesn't meet your definition of a center? For the most part they do what centers do: They block shots, rebound, play in the paint and rarely stray out to the perimeter. They're also all 25 or younger.
They're good, too. Howard is already an All-Star, and you can imagine every other player on that list joining him at some point. Chandler, Biedrins, Howard and Bynum all are shooting better than 60 percent, while Howard, Kaman, Jefferson and Chandler are four of the league's top five rebounders.
And then there's perhaps the best young center of them all, Stoudemire. Yes, maybe he's more legitimately considered a power forward than some other players on this list. But in Phoenix's system, he's a devastatingly effective "five" who ranks third in the league in PER. Besides, is it really so outlandish to describe a 6-10, 245-pound guy as a center?
It's not just the young guys, either. What's great about the current gang of centers is that we have two different eras colliding, because while all these younger players are coming up, the old guard remains active.
Shaq is diminished but still playing and, when healthy, producing. Alonzo Mourning, Ben Wallace and Dikembe Mutombo -- three of the greatest defensive players of all time -- are still active. There's Camby, the league's reigning Defensive Player of the Year, and three other centers who have made multiple All-Star teams and remain effective -- Jermaine O'Neal, Cleveland's Zydrunas Ilgauskas and Sacramento's Brad Miller.
Is this the greatest batch of centers ever? I'm not sure I'd go that far. For one thing, the group in their primes (ages 26 to 30) isn't much to look at -- other than Yao, Samuel Dalembert and Brendan Haywood are the best of the bunch. So at best, we probably need to wait a few years for the younger generation to hit their peaks.
Additionally, they have some stiff competition. The three year span from 1992 to 1994 was a true golden age, one which featured peak or near-peak years of six likely Hall of Famers (Shaq, Mourning, Mutombo, David Robinson, Hakeem Olajuwon and Patrick Ewing) as well as several quality second-tier guys (Vlade Divac, Brad Daugherty, Rik Smits, Rony Seikaly, Pervis Ellison, Kevin Willis), plus the decline phases of a couple more Hall of Famers (Moses Malone, Robert Parish).
But when viewed in hindsight, I'm not sure the current gang will be too far away. Duncan is already an all-timer, and Yao, Howard, and Stoudemire certainly appear to be on a Hall of Fame trajectory. Throw in the huge number of quality young centers and the fact that Greg Oden has yet to play an NBA game, and I'd say the center position is as strong as it's looked in a long time.
Which makes me wonder if the problem isn't a lack of centers at all … but rather a lack of people willing to be called centers.