yeah kinda doubt the athletic is out there policing things and like half this board is subscribers, ill prob become one soon based on reading the illicit good content, really its more advertising for them if anything we shd be getting affiliate benefits
― lag∞n, Wednesday, 14 November 2018 17:20 (ten months ago) link
cn someone post this one next https://theathletic.com/653527/2018/11/14/durant-vs-draymond-theories-on-why-these-two-warriors-stars-are-fueding
im living for dubs drama rn
― lag∞n, Wednesday, 14 November 2018 17:21 (ten months ago) link
at the very least feel like the thread should be deindexed
― k3vin k., Wednesday, 14 November 2018 17:57 (ten months ago) link
yeah just deindex it*
*i don't know who would do this or how it works
― Greta Van Fleek (upper mississippi sh@kedown), Wednesday, 14 November 2018 20:23 (ten months ago) link
>>> i'll post this cuz i don't like to leave my guy lagoon high n dry and thirsting for drama.
however, feel like a mod should weigh in or an ILX illuminati elder
Durant vs. Draymond: Theories on why these two Warriors stars are feuding
Andre Iguodala is at his locker, in a locker room that’s emptied out earlier than usual. The nearby Kevin Durant space is conspicuously vacant. KD loves to talk, and usually lingers, riffing with teammates and reporters. Tuesday night he dressed quickly, gave a brief, sullen press conference and exited. In the press conference, when asked about his friendship with Draymond Green, Durant replied, “I don’t really think that even matters right now.”
I ask Andre if the Warriors can win with KD and Draymond at odds like this. Andre responds, “Shaq and Kobe ain’t like each other.”
Me: “But that ended in a way you wouldn’t want this to end, right?”
Andre: “They won three championships in a row. Ain’t that what you want to happen?”
Me: “I guess all things come to an end.”
Andre: “Everything come to an end.”
A dynasty is a fragile kind of dominance. That’s the paradox of ultimate victory. Once superiority is achieved, and achieved again, the game loses a certain internal logic. Why prove what’s proven? Why win what’s won? Invincibility is a holding pattern that can only remain so fulfilling. People, even the most competitive of people, are designed to chase goals, not maintain a grip on them in perpetuity.
That’s the backdrop of a more salacious circumstance, a gripping tale of how this dynasty might be unraveling. These are all meaningful parts of the story. The names, the dates, the feuds. It’s all very real right now, and suddenly. Seemingly out of nowhere, the Warriors revealed a situation perhaps beyond repair. And the internal slights matter, but one wonders if it could all be transcended if everyone felt the project worth repairing.
Two years ago, I wrote an article on this organization’s sometimes tempestuous relationship with Draymond Green. It was given the baity title, “Golden State’s Draymond Green Problem.” From my perspective, it wasn’t about how Draymond was a problem, but more about how he could tip the Warriors’ future in either direction.
Fast forward two championships.
Yesterday, people kept sending me this article, asking if current events are pertinent to its themes. Did yesteryear’s hyperbole prove prophetic?
My take? No, not necessarily. First, because championships two and three qualify as glorious successes. Second, because, much as we can parse Draymond’s actions, and much as they can cause strife, the current state of affairs speaks to something bigger than him, an issue he could perhaps mitigate but not solve: Winning isn’t enough.
Players talk about just wanting to win all the time. About the only player I’ve ever met who might actually, literally mean it is Steph Curry. Because winning isn’t done for its own sake. Winning is a means to certain ends. Beyond the camaraderie of collectively conquering a goal, beyond the money, there’s the adulation that comes with achievement. Winning correlates to winning at life, vastly increasing your status in the eyes of fans and peers alike.
Ask yourself: Has this obvious benefit of winning happened for Kevin Durant as a Warrior? Over the past two-plus seasons, perhaps the Warriors All-Star in need of the most adulation got the least adulation. His reputation is more or less what it was when he arrived. The man was incredible in back-to-back NBA Finals. Had he faltered, he would have been mocked in a manner only trumped by what LeBron James experienced in 2011. Lost in Monday night’s chaos was Clippers owner Steve Ballmer sidling onto the court to schmooze it up with Durant. He, like other owners this summer, offers to fill the void that winning did not. Also, note that Draymond has a view of such cajoling.
This might be a bigger issue than just Kevin Durant. The media landscape has changed. In the past, might made right, and winners were worshipped sans much nuance. Now, a social media-driven conversation picks apart historic accomplishments while basking in a perpetual present. Coming here and winning big was supposed to make KD the face of Nike. Instead, to many jaded fans, that swoosh looks like a coattail. The quaint idea that you can silence your critics with a trophy is just one of a million norms that have fallen by the wayside over the past few years.
This is the big problem for Warriors HQ, as they proclaim not to care about anything other than winning a championship this season. I’m not certain there’s a solution to Winner’s Ennui, but there are methods for recalibration. I have some thoughts on that, and I want to emphasize that they are my own. The thoughts are in contrast to what I’m being told, repeated assurances that, “This happens, Draymond does this, it’s happened before, etc.” Today’s turmoil can indeed be tomorrow’s footnote. This isn’t even the first time Draymond caused discord by calling someone a “bitch.” He did that to Steve Kerr back in 2016, when they were separated in the Oklahoma City locker room. It might have actually been the least vulgar thing Draymond said to Kerr in that exchange.
Anyway. The most interesting comment in Kerr’s pregame press conference Tuesday was perhaps the most boring, superficially. When asked to describe the relationship between Kevin Durant and Draymond Green, Kerr said:
“They have won championships together, they have been teammates now for three seasons and they were teammates on the Olympic team. You can draw your own conclusions.”
Not exactly a ringing endorsement of a brotherly bond. Not exactly a reaffirmation of what brought them together. Whatever is happening could pass, but whatever is happening is not being treated like it will. And that is rather strange.
Kerr and Bob Myers are not stupid men. They levied this suspension, knowing it would escalate a situation that could otherwise be dealt with in private. They knew this could seriously alienate Draymond. There’s broad agreement within the organization that Draymond crossed a line, but the public punishment is curious. It’s not a move that makes a lot of sense in a vacuum.
Unless there are other forces at play. Draymond Green will be 30 years old when he’s up for his next contract, which would be a $226 million super max in 2020 if he had his druthers. Draymond turned down a more modestly priced three-year extension in pursuit of a bigger prize. He is an amazing basketball player, who’s still underrated. You could see him continuing a career of defying NBA odds well into his 30s. Then again, not everybody buys this trajectory. Some within the Warriors might note that NBA longevity correlates with size, and shooting, neither exactly an advantage for Mr. Green.
The Warriors will never replace what Draymond Green has meant to them, but they could get a good starter at a third of the price going forward. You think Joe Lacob is unaware of this? And if losing Draymond is the cost of keeping KD? Lacob’s choice is obvious, emotions be damned. Of course, losing both players is, theoretically, the worst of all worlds, and a real possibility in this high stakes poker game. But the cost of paying these salaries keeps rising and there’s still an open question as to whether the Warriors want Draymond at the price he sees fit. That question would be open even if KD left. One wonders if this current catastrophe presents its own opportunity, its own pretext. As another Master of Coin once said, “Chaos is a ladder.”
Again, Draymond Green isn’t the problem. Winner’s Ennui is the problem. Sadly, there’s no solution to this problem but to shake up the roster, as recalibration can serve as its own challenge. Perhaps that means letting KD leave for New York or wherever else and recapturing a “Strength in Numbers” ethos. That’s likely not the outcome Lacob favors, even if Draymond is his guy. Two superstars are still better than one.
Iguodala is right when he says, “Everything come to an end,” but the owner of this team wants to end “the end” and reign over this league forever. That’s great for Warriors fans, insofar as an impossible aspiration can be maintained for a while. For individual players, perhaps not so much. Hard calls must be made, and feelings suppressed. The future is uncertain for a team that remains title favorites. Draymond might not be the problem, but the Warriors showed the world that he might be Kevin Durant’s problem. Perhaps it’s a last ditch effort to impress the seriousness of this situation upon a man who has meant so much to this franchise. That would be the more innocent read. It’s possible, even within the bounds of a business that remains jagged and brutal. As Kerr says, “You can draw your own conclusions.”
— Reported from Oakland
― Greta Van Fleek (upper mississippi sh@kedown), Wednesday, 14 November 2018 20:25 (ten months ago) link
Reading that first article I can't help but think Draymond's self-defense amounts to:
Yeah, big deal, so I fucked up and stepped way over a line that I shouldn't have, disrespecting my teammate. Sure, I expect to be punished for that, but quietly and maybe have to cough up a bit of pocket change in the way of a fine, and now it's so UNFAIR that I was slapped down hard in public -- even though I slapped KD just as hard and just as publically. And *ouch* that's a lot of money! Why'd they hafta do that to ME?!
iow, just a lot of bullshit self-regarding
― A is for (Aimless), Wednesday, 14 November 2018 20:36 (ten months ago) link
― lag∞n, Wednesday, 14 November 2018 21:00 (ten months ago) link
ok i just dropped a hundo subscribing to the athletic and espn+ lol god bless im a responsible content consumer now, let me know if u need any draft info pasted here
― lag∞n, Thursday, 15 November 2018 19:14 (ten months ago) link
oh nice may need some + content at some point
― Spottie, Thursday, 15 November 2018 19:17 (ten months ago) link
i hate paying the mouse but my status as a draft thought leader has been eroded by lack of insider access
― lag∞n, Thursday, 15 November 2018 19:19 (ten months ago) link
(feel good abt paying the athletic)
― lag∞n, Thursday, 15 November 2018 19:20 (ten months ago) link
― Spottie, Thursday, 15 November 2018 19:20 (ten months ago) link
Lagoon your thought leader status must be preserved at all costs
― The Poppy Bush AutoZone (upper mississippi sh@kedown), Thursday, 15 November 2018 19:33 (ten months ago) link
im glad were on the same page here
― lag∞n, Thursday, 15 November 2018 19:35 (ten months ago) link
lagoons thought leader status is critical to maintain if ilh wants to have synergy with its core competencies and best practices, and of course to remain the omni channel king of hoops
― Spottie, Thursday, 15 November 2018 19:39 (ten months ago) link
its mission critical to our brand identity and product market fit
― lag∞n, Thursday, 15 November 2018 19:41 (ten months ago) link
― lag∞n, Thursday, November 15, 2018 2:14 PM (six hours ago)
I for one welcome our new content overlords. I too have subscribed to this great online service
― k3vin k., Friday, 16 November 2018 02:04 (ten months ago) link
someone post please:
― Celtoes Adidas (Spottie), Friday, 7 December 2018 19:49 (nine months ago) link
Where does the NBA's MVP race stand nearly two months into the 2018-19 season?
It's never too early for MVP narratives to take hold, as what was once a topic for the spring now has become a season-long discussion. And indeed, betting markets and straw polls suggest that Milwaukee Bucks forward Giannis Antetokounmpo is the early MVP leader on the strength of his team's surprising start, with LeBron James the other leading contender in pursuit of his fifth Maurice Podoloff Trophy.
Yet narratives don't always match statistical reality, so let's ponder some of the big questions about the MVP with the help of advanced metrics, including whether Giannis is the right front-runner.
Can a center be most valuable?The leaderboards in most advanced stats at this early stage have a decidedly tall slant. Basketball-Reference.com's value over replacement player (VORP), for example, rates six centers and four other players listed as power forwards (one of them is Kevin Durant, who has actually played more minutes at small forward) among the league's top 14 players. Meanwhile, the PER leaderboard -- once we've filtered out low-minutes players -- is even more heavily tilted toward the frontcourt, with 19 centers in the top 30, including reserves Montrezl Harrell, Nerlens Noel, Jakob Poeltl, Dwight Powell, Domantas Sabonis and Jonas Valanciunas.
These results reflect a topic I addressed ahead of the NBA draft: Because the floor is so well spaced, it's never been easier to get productive play from centers. Indeed, consider the average PER by position (as defined by Basketball-Reference) weighted by minutes played:
Avg. PER (Weighted For Minutes)POS PERPG 14.7SG 13.1SF 13.0PF 14.9C 19.6Across all positions, the average PER is always set to 15.0. However, that varies widely across positions now, with centers naturally dominant and wings much weaker. It's not just the very best centers who are most productive, but also the ones who are cheaply available to teams -- including Noel and JaVale McGee, both of whom are in the top 30 in PER after signing one-year deals for the veteran's minimum as free agents this summer.
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When we're determining value, then, position has to be taken into account. To be as relatively valuable on a per-minute basis as a small forward with a 25.6 PER (like Kawhi Leonard), a center would need a PER of 32.2 -- something that's never been achieved in NBA history.
In other words, it's probably not possible for the best center in 2018-19 to be more valuable than the best wing player, which has important implications for the MVP chances of not only Joel Embiid (who's not actually among those high-rated centers, ranking 17th in PER and 26th in VORP) but also Anthony Davis (mostly -- though perhaps not exclusively -- a center).
Should Giannis be the front-runner?Although I used PER over average to make that point, the better way to define value in the context of MVP is as compared to replacement level -- the production we'd expect from a free agent signed for the minimum salary -- so as to properly credit players for their durability.
My wins above replacement player (WARP) metric now reflects a much higher level of replacement for centers, and to a lesser extent power forwards, as compared to wings in particular. With that adjustment, here's how WARP ranks this year's most valuable players (projected to 82 team games so as not to disadvantage players whose teams have played fewer games thus far).
2018-19 WARP LeaderboardPLAYER TEAM PS WARP/82LeBron James LAL F 19.2James Harden HOU G 19.2Kevin Durant GSW F 18.3Paul George OKC SF 17.1Damian Lillard POR PG 17.0Giannis Antetokounmpo MIL PF 16.5Kyrie Irving BOS PG 16.2Kemba Walker CHA PG 15.2Anthony Davis NOP C 14.1Mike Conley MEM PG 13.5Projected to 82 team gamesWhile LeBron tops this list, surprisingly it's last year's winner who's in a virtual tie with him. James Harden's stat line is basically identical to what he posted in 2017-18, but because his Houston Rockets have stumbled to an 11-12 start after winning a league-best 59 games last season, he's gotten zero attention as a possible repeat candidate. It will be interesting to see whether that changes if the Rockets turn things around. Damian Lillard, whose Portland Trail Blazers have fallen off after a strong start, is in a similar position after finishing fourth in last season's MVP voting.
The most interesting MVP candidate that position-adjusted WARP identifies is Paul George, who also ranks third in wins produced based on ESPN's real plus-minus (RPM), which isn't adjusted by position. George has played a key role in the Oklahoma City Thunder's league-leading defensive rating and has helped keep their offense afloat with 2016-17 MVP Russell Westbrook missing eight games. According to NBA Advanced Stats, Oklahoma City's offensive rating drops to a dismal 94.7 points per 100 possessions with George on the bench.
Those takeaways noted, let's dig deeper into the comparison between Giannis, LeBron and KD -- only two of whom can make the All-NBA first team because they all play forward. Why does Antetokounmpo lag behind the other two stars?
The first reason is the lower replacement level at small forward, where Cleaning the Glass estimates James has played 66 percent of his minutes and Durant 65 percent as opposed to 12 percent of Antetokounmpo's minutes.
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The Lakers' positionless lineups show the challenge in using position to determine value. Cleaning the Glass considers LeBron the small forward when he plays alongside power forward Kyle Kuzma, but in practice the defensive matchups with those lineups depend more on the opponent than any rigid position. And offensively, James tends to operate more as a point guard (particularly during Rajon Rondo's absence, as ESPN's Brian Windhorst recently broke down) than as a forward.
However, I think Durant's example reinforces the importance of positional replacement level. His ability to defend small forwards has allowed the Warriors to start Jonas Jerebko -- another big man who's excelled while making the veteran's minimum -- at the 4 in Draymond Green's absence rather than going deeper into their weak wing rotation.
The other key factor here is minutes played. Not only has Giannis missed a game due to injury, he's playing fewer minutes per game (33.8) than either LeBron (34.8) or KD (35.7), meaning Milwaukee has relied slightly more on its bench than those teams. While the difference isn't dramatic, along with position it helps explain why Antetokounmpo can rate better on a per-minute basis than James and Durant, yet still land behind them in terms of value.
When it comes to RPM, Antetokounmpo is actually third of the group in terms of per-possession rating and just 12th overall in RPM wins. As a result, I don't think Giannis should be considered the MVP front-runner based on advanced stats.
How many games does Curry need to play? How about Kawhi?Though playing time is a relatively small difference between the MVP front-runners, it's a huge factor for Stephen Curry (who has missed 11 of Golden State's 26 games) and a large one for Leonard (he's missed six of 26). When Harden won last season, the 10 games he missed were the most for an MVP since Allen Iverson (11) in 2000-01. That would basically imply Curry can't miss any more time and have a chance to win.
However, history should be considered a guide rather than a hard-and-fast rule, as Westbrook winning the MVP on a 47-win team offers a recent reminder that voters can always rethink MVP tradition. So instead, let's ponder the question of how many games Steph and Kawhi would need to play to be most valuable statistically. If we flip the leaderboard to WARP per 82 player games rather than team games, Curry shoots (pun intended) to the top:
2018-19 WARP LeaderboardPLAYER TEAM PS WARP/GStephen Curry GSW PG 22.4James Harden HOU SG 22.1LeBron James LAL PF 19.2Kevin Durant GSW PF 18.3Giannis Antetokounmpo MIL PF 17.3Kawhi Leonard TOR SF 17.2Paul George OKC SF 17.1Damian Lillard POR PG 17.0Kyrie Irving BOS PG 17.0Russell Westbrook OKC PG 16.8Per 82 games playedNonetheless, in part because he's played just 33.3 minutes per game, Curry will be hard-pressed to lead the league in WARP. Harden would beat him if they both played the remainder of the schedule at their current pace, and LeBron's 82-game pace isn't far behind. Voters might be willing to reward Curry even if he's slightly less valuable if it's strictly due to injury, but he can't miss many more games.
Since he hasn't been as dominant when he's played, Leonard's task is even more difficult. While he cracks the top 10 on a per-player game basis, Kawhi is still behind both Giannis and LeBron and would have to rely on the narrative power of leading the Raptors to the NBA's best record. They're currently three games up on the Denver Nuggets for that honor, with the Warriors four games back.
Curry staying healthy the rest of the season might actually have more impact on other candidates for MVP than his own hopes. If Golden State surges ahead of Toronto with Curry (the Warriors are 12-3 in games he's played this season and 5-6 without him), that could hurt Leonard's candidacy. It also becomes a lot more difficult for voters to pick Durant if he's not even the most valuable player on his own team -- something that was evident when Golden State struggled early on in Curry's absence, though it did give Durant the opportunity to put the team on his back during the Warriors' final four games without Curry, when they went 3-1 with an overtime loss in Toronto.
Whether Curry can stay healthy the rest of the season is just one of the many questions to be answered about the MVP race, which should still be considered wide open with more than two-thirds of the season left to be played.
― lag∞n, Friday, 7 December 2018 20:02 (nine months ago) link
― Celtoes Adidas (Spottie), Friday, 7 December 2018 20:11 (nine months ago) link
love my adidads celtoes— Les Alizés Dénudés (@Marco0o0os) December 7, 2018
― lag∞n, Friday, 7 December 2018 20:16 (nine months ago) link
oh damn, great minds etc.
mine is pulled from:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yLcN_rzouEI
― Celtoes Adidas (Spottie), Friday, 7 December 2018 20:19 (nine months ago) link
― lag∞n, Friday, 7 December 2018 20:21 (nine months ago) link
pete rock >>>>> premo
― The Poppy Bush AutoZone (upper mississippi sh@kedown), Friday, 7 December 2018 20:49 (nine months ago) link
alright lets MFN DO THIS lol
― lag∞n, Friday, 7 December 2018 20:50 (nine months ago) link
I LOVE that album btw.
not sure i'd go that far xp but it's pretty close! poll it!
― Celtoes Adidas (Spottie), Friday, 7 December 2018 20:55 (nine months ago) link
tube amp warm glow vibeshttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fdUr9mClegU
― Celtoes Adidas (Spottie), Friday, 7 December 2018 20:58 (nine months ago) link
cool pete rock song imo
― lag∞n, Friday, 7 December 2018 21:00 (nine months ago) link
thats warm too. v good
― Celtoes Adidas (Spottie), Friday, 7 December 2018 21:10 (nine months ago) link
― J0rdan S., Friday, 14 December 2018 17:12 (nine months ago) link
On the road with an NBA spy: The grinding work and lifestyle of an advance scout
Ethan Strauss Dec 12, 2018 78 “Goddammit! Fucking shit! Would you look at this fucking guy!” Our scout is pointing at a portly man who stands between us and the escalator pathway. This is the truest enemy he knows. Our scout is never present for when the team that employs him faces a rival franchise. His only rivals are those who thwart arrivals on the league’s loneliest trail.
Every night features the arena’s stimulus overload, the roaring crowd, honking hype men and jangling music. His work ends in the wee hours of the morning, in a hotel, poring over film. It’s disorienting. My brain broke from merely observing. Details started blurring. I nearly missed a flight due to a dead certainty that my hotel was attached to the airport. Wrong, my brain was holding on to what had been true the night before, in a different city.
The problem was, I had no system for whatever this lifestyle is, not like our scout had. He was on a well-worn path. Our scout did not see the North American landscape as a collection of cities to be enjoyed, each with their own character and customs. No, he saw this terrain through the portals of his convenience. This city’s tram gets you to the hotel from the airport. This city’s skyways shield you from the cold. New York’s “N” train is all you really need to know about. Turn here. Down this hall.
The man is a travel sherpa, guiding you through the chaos of the ambling crowd. Every movement is propulsive. Every movement smoothly assertive, at least until those damned people get in the way. There’s a mini human traffic jam as we step onto an airport tram. “Folks who try and get on before everyone exits piss me off,” he mutters. You wouldn’t know from the running commentary, but this man is not a misanthrope. He’s actually quite kind, considerate even. He keeps looking out for me as I blithely lose myself in more crowds than Waldo. The road may have taken this man’s patience, but it hasn’t stolen his soul.
“Anyone flying to New York?!” a sharply dressed guy shouts to the tram passengers. There’s a gleam in the stranger’s eye, one that stays burning despite the lack of response. “Anyone flying to New York?!” He then asks our scout for the time and gets a blank stare. We exit the tram.
“Con artist,” our scout says. “I’ve seen it before. My job is to size things up.” The con artist, if he is a con artist, would be employing a predatory strategy called, “Forced Teaming,” as coined by Gavin de Becker in his bestselling book, “The Gift of Fear.” Good luck trying that on a professional lone wolf.
We keep walking, his steps always a few in front of my own. He’s as excited about Toronto’s tram to downtown as he was fearful of delays at customs (“You never know when there’s some damned Canadian holiday!”). Our schedule is always calibrated to hit ports of entry at the point of minimal crowding. “You see, if we were here in the morning …” is a common refrain.
Our scout is a middle-aged man who has been at this longer than seems sustainable. His specific trade is “advance scouting,” or NBA spying to put it in layman’s terms. He sits as close as possible to coaches and intercepts their play calls for upwards of 150 road games per season. Though this is the job description, it’s a less than clandestine existence. Teams know who he is, why he is there and even provide him the credentials. It’s part of NBA culture: Everyone is allowed to do this and may the best spies win.
Our scout is regarded as one of the best. Though his job is difficult and highly routinized, he made an exception for a slight detour. After my article on NBA spies garnered more interest from readers than anticipated, our scout wondered if I might delve deeper. I had only cracked the surface here. To understand this life, I had to live it, just a bit.
So, I would trail this member of a monastic sports caste. I would see how he fights for a team absent the camaraderie supposedly essential to team competition. It would be six games in seven nights, which by the way, is a merciful slice of schedule. Our scout has done 13 road games in 13 nights before. It’s not like merely high-level business travel, the kind represented by George Clooney’s “Up in the Air” character. This way is a blast furnace aimed at all your senses, interspersed with moments of crushing solitude.
So why does he do this?
The Rosetta StoneOne reason is because, unlike so many people, he can do this. The job requires a certain visio-spatial acuity. While walking briskly to an arena, our scout self-assesses, “I believe I might be on the spectrum.” I cannot offer a free diagnosis but can conclude that he’s capable of things that, to my mind, read as incredible.
At a hotel, we flip the TV to the end of a game involving a team he had recently seen in person. I ask for a running commentary of a crunch-time play, which our scout obliges, augmented by quick gesticulations. “They did this in the game we were at. These two guys are going to scissors off this pick. He’s going to cut to that corner, he’s going to cut to that corner. He’s going to pin that guy to the top. And then high pick-and-roll.” Boom. Boom. Boom. The play unfolds as predicted.
Our scout can tell us what’s going to happen before it happens, with the reliability of a “Minority Report” precog, and that’s even without the benefit of seeing the coach’s hand signal. One wonders how much a team could improve if all its players somehow magically absorbed this knowledge. Instead, teams settle for a more realistic reduction of this vast database, specifically tailored to each opponent, taught in film session to the roster, game by game.
Right now, our scout is deep into his hotel room routine, the work he does in addition to the report he sends from the arena. He’s typing away on Fast Draw, the league’s favored play diagramming software. The program is the evolutionary descendent of the days when IBM, as a major NBA sponsor, manufactured something to get NBA coaches toting ThinkPads on the sidelines in nationally televised games. Unfortunately for IBM, computer-based play diagramming, like writing, was always meant for solitude. The whiteboard just wouldn’t relinquish its grip as the public face of strategy.
Spurs coach Gregg Popovich uses a whiteboard to draw up a play against the Warriors. (File photo from 2013: Garrett W. Ellwood/NBAE via Getty Images)Once all the plays are drawn, our scout adds the personnel report (statistics, depth chart, top plays and player tendencies). Finally, the capper, a written report with offensive and defensive notes, which normally includes the future opponent’s top-play frequencies. In his room, “call sheets” are strewn across the table, records of team plays with their corresponding coach’s hand signals. I ask for the Warriors’ records, since I want to learn about the team I supposedly know all about. “It can’t be that much material,” I say, “Considering how many of their offense is transition play.”
He plunks the file down with a thud.
“Here, take a look, I don’t give a shit,” he says. “It ain’t our team’s secrets.”
Before me lies the intellectual framework of the Steve Kerr era, represented in the NBA’s version of hieroglyphics. Everything I theoretically knew, or at least saw at some point, has been chronicled for a particular kind of posterity. Or perhaps more accurately, this is Kerr’s basketball 23andMe results, a genealogy of thought. There are over 100 plays, with tally marks to indicate frequency. I ask to know where all this comes from. What can we divine of Kerr’s influences while leafing through these pages? Our scout starts rattling off what he sees.
“Hmm, all the Weak and Strong series is Gregg Popovich. All the Pop clones run Strong and Weak. Another big one is Doc Rivers, by way of Alvin Gentry, ’cause Alvin was his first lead assistant. Dribble, Drag, Backdoor is 100 percent from Doc Rivers. The Floppy series is from Pat Riley. He never played for Pat, but that got around the league. His Loop series is Popovich. His Pistol series, originally known as the 21 series, is Mike D’Antoni. His Pick-and-Roll series is called ‘Rub,’ and that’s from Popovich. He and Pop both rub their chests when they call that, but Pop sort of does it like he’s straightening his tie. Kerr also has a Slice series and that’s definitely from Doc Rivers. His Wedge series is Pop.”
I’m not hearing one name in particular. Whenever I followed the Warriors to New York, their local media would obsessively ask about then Knicks president Phil Jackson, hoping to draw some connection between Kerr and his former Hall of Fame coach. They often asked some version of, “Are you running the Triangle?”
“To be honest, looking through this playbook, I don’t see anything from Phil Jackson,” our scout concludes. “Not one damned thing.”
To be fair, there is at least one damned Phil Jackson thing in the Warriors repertoire: an out of bounds play called “What The Fuck” that dates back to the Bulls days. Perhaps there are some other plays, here and there. But in general, Jackson’s strategic influence on Kerr appears dwarfed by some coaches Kerr never even played for or worked with. Maybe Jackson’s impact is more subjective and generalized. Maybe the Zen Master’s legacy is a more abstract echo, like the loudest of one-handed claps.
Popovich’s legacy looms largest, perhaps over the league and certainly over Kerr’s whiteboard. Pop’s “Weak Roll,” a play that gets the ball moving side to side, is an absolute favorite of Kerr’s. Our scout chuckles about Kerr’s proclivity with that one. He pictures the coach rubbing his hands together in glee like Monty Burns at the mere prospect of calling this play. “Ah yes, yes, Weak Roll,” our scout intones with a grin. He’s not necessarily against the predictable nature of coaches, but he does find it amusing on occasion. “Lemme tell you something. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is a creature of habit like NBA coaches are.”
How it worksTime is of the essence because there’s a lot of work that needs doing. When I look over our scout’s shoulder, I’m watching a chain reaction. Minutes after the buzzer, he’s sending his work to the organization for processing and later, implementation. It’s a process by which thousands of miles and many hours of effort will get condensed down to a 6-8 minute video that our scout will never see.
Here’s how the chain works, the exact process by which your favorite teams prepare for battle. Our scout flies to a game featuring a team (let’s call them the Kings) that’s say, two games away on the schedule from playing his own. Ideally, he is granted a courtside seat, “the down seat” in scout parlance. Armed with a pen and a laptop, he watches closely and listens carefully, with extra focus on Kings coach Dave Joerger, a “pain in the ass” who’s liable to obscure his play calls from prying eyes. Our scout spends all game looking for visual and vocal representations of plays, followed by the plays themselves. A call of “fist up!” paired with the making of a fist reads easy enough, for instance. Or it would, anyway, if “fist” had a universal meaning.
NBA coaches have a tendency to use the same visual terms (fist, horns, thumb) to mean all manner of different things. It’s as though everyone speaks the same language, but nobody means the same thing when they speak it. The same holds true for defensive calls, which, unlike offensive calls, tend to be colors (“red,” “blue,” etc.) rather than visual representations. With an uncommon understanding of this Tower of Babel, our scout types the visual call, vocal call and resulting action into his “call sheet.” The pen is for noting new plays and frequencies of plays. The buzzer finally sounds and it’s time to quickly send this information to the video coordinators for tagging purposes.
Back at Team HQ, a video guy has stashed a few games of the upcoming opponent “in his editor,” most likely in a program called SportsCode. He’s working on a refining process, purging these games of random, useless filler, preparing a reel for the assistant coach tasked with the Kings matchup. “The video guy will go through and remove all the crap plays, the garbage, maybe they didn’t run something right,” our scout says. “He’ll clean all of that out and what he’ll give the assistant coach is all of the actual plays.” There’s an optimal kind of play to feature, with an eye towards the motivations of athletes. “Preferably, the play is an example of proper execution. We tend to want examples where they score. We want to play up the fear to the guys.”
With the assistance of our scout, the video guy now can tag these plays according to their names and visual representations. It’s one thing for your players to see tendencies and another to know they’re coming, when they’re coming. Watch for this next time you’re at a game in person, because the television vantage rarely picks it up. Often when the camera is trained on the after basket inbounds, a defensive player is out of view, on the other side of the court, gesticulating the offense’s next play to his teammates.
Steve Kerr uses a hand signal to call a play during a Warriors game in Utah earlier this season. (Gene Sweeney Jr./Getty Images)Before such information can take root, it must be prepared, reduced down to a digestible size. In further consultation with the assistant coach, the video guy produces that 6-8 minute video of the opponent’s most common plays, to be shown in morning shootaround and again in pregame. This video serves as the basis for morning “walk-through,” when players are physically guided through their strategy preparations. “Normally the video edit is going to highlight two examples of the opponent’s top plays, and include maybe a dozen to 15 plays total,” our scout says. “At walk-through, you might physically go through a half dozen of the most important ones.”
The point of walk-through isn’t just to key your players on what to watch out for, but also to specifically prepare them for such actions with an organized defense. It’s a process that got more granular with time, fit according to whatever talent you’re facing. “Back in the day, there was ‘The Rule of Nowitzki,’” our scout recalls. “You had to adjust to defend him. The real key to this is not just identifying who they are. As soon as you get that call, not only do you need to know what’s coming, but also how to stop it.”
Scout’s honorWe are in a hotel lobby, with a younger scout from another team. We sit near the bar, but not at the bar. They haven’t the time for drinks but commiserate a bit over the college game playing in the background. Finally, as our scout gets ready to leave, the younger scout asks, “Hey, did you get all the plays tonight?” Younger scout missed a few and our scout is happy to help. This is part of the culture, in the way that offering lecture notes to a friend in college might have been part of yours.
Oftentimes, in the bowels of an NBA arena, two scouts from different franchises meet in a conspiracy against the home team. It’s a common sight if you know what to look for. You might be in Brooklyn, in the media room, watching the Pacers scout and Wizards scout at one table, trading secrets on how to foil the Nets next week. As the ancient proverb goes, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.” In that media room, these scouts are brothers-in-arms, united in purpose against a common enemy. That is, until the Nets scout and the Wizards scout find each other in Indiana’s arena, both looking down the barrel at an upcoming Pacers game. Then it’s time to forge a new, convenient bond.
Collegiality has its limits. In Memphis, a seat next to our scout goes wanting. It was allotted to another team’s scout who never bothered to show. We have it on good authority that this scout got trashed the night before and decided to sleep this game away. Though this is a job often given to grinders, it’s also a spot where fringe NBA characters can get stashed on a part-time basis. Sometimes, it’s just a place for coaches to get a buddy a gig.
That’s fine and well, so long as such people don’t expect any help. Our scout sees the slacker at the airport the next day. On the plane, he gets approached and queried on whether he got all the plays. “How’d you make out?” the truant scout asks. He adds that he was there but bought a game ticket because he just wanted a better angle. This is bullshit. In Memphis, scouts tend to get the courtside seat and last night was no exception. He would know this if he actually showed up to work. “I did OK,” our scout says curtly. That reply effectively ends the conversation.
“I would have helped him if he just admitted he got bombed,” our scout says. Then he mutters, “serves them right for hiring a regional scout.”
The professional advance scouts largely look down on regional scouting, a system by which teams outsource scouting to hired guns in certain cities, some of whom are employed by multiple NBA teams. It was a system popularized by Popovich in the mid-2000s, theoretically out of mercy for the league’s most brutal profession. There was also some sense to Pop’s push back then. That era’s top Western Conference teams featured known quantities like Jackson, Jerry Sloan and Rick Adelman. Why grind some poor soul into dust when you already have so much information on these veteran coaches? The West has since been shaken up, but Pop’s reform lingers. Our scout believes the system is less reliable. “I can’t trade notes with a regional scouts. You never know if what they’re getting is right.”
Though Popovich might have undermined advance scouting as a profession, head coaches are the traditional allies of NBA spies. General managers and assistant GMs don’t tend to feel similarly. After I published my initial article on advance scouting, I received pushback from staffers in the GM camp. They weren’t sold on such spycraft mattering in the end.
“That sounds like GMs,” our scout says, when I relay this. “We can’t do shit for a GM. Their reputation is based on making a big personnel move. It’s the coaches who have an appreciation for us busting our asses on the road to get them what they need.” Whatever the merits of either perspective, this much is true, politically: The advance scout is yet another salary under the coaching aegis, rather than capital devoted to a GM’s cause.
Trade madeOur scout is inhaling a mound of vanilla ice cream, a guilty pleasure in Philly, which features one of the lesser credentialed guest meals. When asked why he’s not fat, given his lifestyle, our scout shrugs and says, “genes. And a lot of walking.” A younger staffer from his team happens to be at his table, looking at Twitter. “We made a trade!” the young guy says, having just learned the breaking news from social media. Our scout shrugs and offers that he wishes they’d do a deal for a younger player who’d been struggling. “What have you got to lose?!”
I ask if anyone from the team is calling. No, our scout’s phone is not blowing up. He’s not getting an inside scoop on how this all went down. On personnel decisions, he is out of sight, out of mind, a far off satellite that delivers perpetual information, tethered to his home planet by the most tenuous of gravitational tugs. This won’t change his job at all. He keeps eating.
The team that pays his salary seems to almost exist in a parallel universe. Our scout is never there for the games he studies for. When I hopped on the road with him, I looked in anticipation to his team’s upcoming game against the opponent he was spying on. We traveled thousands of miles following this prey, as he stalked them as the most dedicated hunter. When that game finally arrived, I had to remind our scout that it was in progress. We were at yet another game, in yet another arena, and he was tracking a new foe. “I hope my work helps, but there isn’t enough time to live and die with the game results,” he says. Our scout was already a few days in the future, the only place he truly resides. A glance at his laptop is a peek through a rear view mirror, where the present reads more like a quickly disappearing past than a moment the world lives in.
People have a finite amount of attention and this is certainly the case for our scout. He needs to prioritize, taking exactly what he needs in the moment and leaving everything else. When you’re, say, spying on both coaches in one game, basic game details slip away. “Often, I can’t tell you if one team is up by 40 or down by 40,” he says. Our scout is only fixated on what teams are running, a focus on process that fully eclipses results. In the end, our scout lives inside this riddle: He watches games but does not see the score and he prepares for games he does not see at all. Such is life in the alternate time space.
Dog, houseHis house is nice, if a little unkempt. Good neighborhood, two stories. There’s water damage that he might fix if he were ever here long enough. When I arrive it’s darkly lit but for the radiant energy generated by his loyal four-legged companion, a buoyant yellow lab. Scout dog is back from day care and thrilled to see his nomadic man. The grizzled scout takes a soothing tone with the dog, whispering baby talk to the happy beast. After we leave the house, our scout says, “I gotta be honest. If it was most people in the river and my dog, I’m saving my dog.” He now takes the dog on the rare, close road trip. Certain hotels have more relaxed restrictions than others. I’m told the dog makes connections with hotel workers faster than our scout ever did. The road is less lonely with a dog, not just due to the companionship, but also because strangers seem to offer more of their humanity in the presence of an animal.
Beyond his evident popularity, scout dog provides stability in a life on the go. Not everybody can or would keep up. Our scout is single, his longest romantic relationship having lasted eight years. Our scout has plenty of friends, though, especially in the basketball business. They see him all the time, just not so much in person. His phone regularly pings with the same kind of text message: a photo of our scout on TV, seated courtside, staring with a coldness that could make a rink out of hardwood. As he shows me the latest such text, he smiles widely, and suddenly looks unrecognizable from the haunted visage on the phone.
Our scout achieved a measure of emotional fulfilment when his team won the NBA championship. It was the culmination of a career, and moreover, just plain fun. Unlike everyone else, he got to relax a bit through the process, as his side of the preparation was largely done. He got to watch the games with his own team for once. He wasn’t out on the road by himself for once. And then, there was the thrill of ultimate victory and the quiet satisfaction in knowing you pitched in.
Except, that night, the euphoria had an undercurrent. “My celebration was kind of, you know, muted,” our scout remembers, with a grimace. That girlfriend of eight years had finally left him, weeks before the championship, for someone else. It was all fairly predictable. How can you share a life with someone who’s never there? How can you plan for the future with a man who lives entirely in an alternate time space? When asked if he has any regrets regarding multiple relationships this job undermined, our scout is steadfast. “No. Basketball was all I ever wanted to do.”
Why? That part is less clear. He was in love with the game growing up, so much so that he traded away certainty for whatever this is. He was premed at a top-flight college, only to ditch it all when a college coaching opportunity came up. He never looked back. “If you could have told me, back then, that I’d be working in the NBA? Shit. Of course I’d do it all again.”
What is the reward system for such labor? It used to be clearer. One of his happiest memories and biggest accomplishments happened long ago, back when he was working as a college assistant coach. He prepared like hell for an undefeated Duke team, despite his squad’s lack of a realistic chance. The college game is simpler, with not as much strategy altered according to opponent. Our scout had some different ideas for big, bad Duke, suggesting pick-and-roll coverages, fit according to the offensive threat. Nothing groundbreaking, but unexpected at that level.
Duke was caught unaware. The Blue Devils shot poorly, got somewhat unlucky and lost. The upset unleashed bedlam in the college town. Our scout went to a bar his friends often frequented, taking in the crazy scene he knew he had a secret hand in causing. A woman he was hooking up with at the time approached him. She did not mince words. They would be getting together later that night. “That felt pretty good,” our scout says, reminiscing.
Life is a bit different these days. When victory happens, there is no bedlam and no visceral spoils. It’s usually hundreds of miles away and hardly registered. Winning and its rewards have been traded for the process that once secured that massive victory over Duke. Now that our scout is older, this process not only remains but sustains. “I like the work,” he says. At least it remains constant.
The end“Go! Go! Go!” Our scout is exhorting me into the car with the verve of a NASCAR pit crew member. This will be our last trip, and unfortunately, it will be a hurried adventure. He’s running late and the streets are choked with weekend festival-goers. After struggling with the trunk, I leap into the front seat and suddenly feel my face engulfed by a warm dampness. Scout dog is here and he’s saying hello, nearly licking my glasses off. We zoom out to the doggy day-care dropoff and then to the airport.
The conversations bounce around various topics. Our scout discusses what he’s read most recently, a book on George S. Patton. He doesn’t have the free hours for many hobbies but enjoys reading about World War II. “Not joining the military is one of my biggest regrets,” he says at one point, adding that, when he sees military members on his flights, he feels guilty. Tactics and hardware obsessed him from an early age. He can rattle off details from different battles, the tanks they used, what technology proved decisive and differentials in man power.
With the clock ticking, we get to life subjects. What exactly happened with that long-term girlfriend? What happens now in your life? The former has a clear answer, but the latter far less so. Our scout eases into a parking space and opens the door. I get a text informing me that my flight is delayed. I wish to relax in my newfound pocket of languor but will keep pace with the hurried for now. Our scout says, “You know, I do want to have kids. Someday, if I meet the right woman …”
We exit the vehicle and commence walking briskly. He will make his flight. He had more time than he thought, just not nearly as much as I did.
― lag∞n, Friday, 14 December 2018 17:38 (nine months ago) link
I couldn’t finish that pretentious shit. Barely made it through the intro.
― EZ Snappin, Friday, 14 December 2018 18:07 (nine months ago) link
ESS is really a lot to handle it's true
― J0rdan S., Friday, 14 December 2018 18:47 (nine months ago) link
We exit the vehicle and commence walking briskly.
― lag∞n, Friday, 14 December 2018 18:52 (nine months ago) link
he can be a lot but i really liked that one
― call all destroyer, Friday, 14 December 2018 19:07 (nine months ago) link
i love ethan
― тпсбlack (Spottie), Friday, 14 December 2018 19:11 (nine months ago) link
non basketball but supposed to be amazing
― J0rdan S., Wednesday, 19 December 2018 03:33 (nine months ago) link
lol the title alone is very good
― lag∞n, Wednesday, 19 December 2018 03:35 (nine months ago) link
The Passion of Mike Piazza: How the midlife crisis of a baseball Hall of Famer led to the demise of a 100-year-old Italian soccer club
By Robert Andrew Powell 227 When Mike Piazza arrived in Reggio Emilia, he was greeted as a hero.
It was June 18, 2016. Everyone remembers the exact date. Piazza had just purchased a controlling interest in A.C. Reggiana 1919, the Italian city’s soccer club. Few locals had heard of him. Even fewer understood his Hall of Fame career catching for the Mets, Dodgers, and three other teams in the American sport of baseball. “When I learned he was the new owner, I went out and bought his autobiography,” says Jacopo Della Porta, a reporter for La Gazzetta di Reggio. “I think I’m the only one here who has read it.” Piazza was obviously rich. His U.S. citizenship gave him a certain baseline allure. Above all, it was his stated plan to return Reggiana to the top flight of Italian soccer that inspired several thousand fans to squeeze into a public square to see him in person.
Reggiana had languished in Serie C, the Italian third division, since the turn of the century. For a club that has known glory—Carlo Ancelotti coached the team into Serie A, in 1996—the long spell of mediocrity has been dispiriting, even embarrassing. Piazza declared, in translated English, that the club was back in solid financial shape. He said he was in Italy for the long haul, invested in the community, and committed to Reggiana’s success. At the rally, smoke from ignited flares swirled around him. Maroon flags waved. Ultras raised their scarves and chanted songs and reached out to shake Piazza’s hand. “Dai c’andom!” Piazza shouted. “Come on!”
Two years later, A.C. Reggiana no longer exists. The club is bankrupt. A court-appointed accountant is distributing its assets.
In what should have been Reggiana’s centennial season, a different team, not owned by Piazza, now represents the city, down in Serie D, which is only semi-pro. The mayor of Reggio Emilia accuses Piazza of “disrespecting” his town. Those ultras who initially cheered Piazza painted death threats on the walls of the team’s headquarters.
When it all ended last summer, Piazza and his family fled Reggio Emilia so abruptly that the fans—along with team, staff, and even the players—felt blindsided. “They ghosted us,” says Sonya Kondratenko, an American who handled social media for the second and final year Piazza owned the team.
Piazza thought he had embarked on a romantic new chapter of his life. He believed he would stay in Italy for the next three decades, running Reggiana and eventually handing the club down to his children. His wife, Alicia, who never wanted him to buy a soccer team, to whom Piazza handed control of the club after a disastrous first year, and who many in Reggio Emilia blame for the club’s implosion, saw the possibility of a different ending. As they stepped off the stage in the plaza, she pulled her husband aside.
“Either we’re going to have the best experience ever,” she told him, “or we’re going to get rolled.”
Reggio Emilia is a small city about an hour’s train ride south of Milan. Nestled in Italy’s “Food Valley” alongside Parma, Bologna, and Modena, Reggio Emilia is known for its pumpkin tortellini and its namesake cheese, Parmigiano Reggiano. The tricolor national flag first flew in Reggio Emilia, in 1797, its creation celebrated in a museum in the old town center. The headquarters of fashion house Max Mara sit not far from a new train station designed by Santiago Calatrava. Locals are well-educated; Reggio Emilia is known around the world for its progressive schools. They’re also wealthy, though they tend not to flaunt it. The city has a history with communism and retains a collectivist ethos. “We work,” one resident tells me, summing up the city’s view of itself.
The Piazzas, for the two years they ran Reggiana, lived in a rented villa outside the city. They spent their summers in South Florida, where they’ve kept a home for more than a decade. I visited them in Florida in August, arriving as the sun set on Sunset Island II, a triangle of extremely expensive homes connected by a short bridge to Miami Beach.
“This interview’s going to be wet,” Mike said soon after I arrived. He stepped toward a bar in the living room and smiled. “I hope that’s okay with you.”
Mike poured me a glass of Grande Alberone Quintus, a red blend. Alicia sipped a chardonnay. My crystal glass was etched with the letter P in a curled script. Mike cupped his glass in his fingers as if it didn’t have a stem or a base.
“We do this every night,” Mike said, popping a chunk of cheese into his mouth as he settled into a striped Louis XIV chair. Behind him glimmered a swimming pool, and then the calm waters of Biscayne Bay. Alicia sat opposite Mike, near a tray of vegetables.
“It’s a tragedy,” Mike said of his soccer-team ownership. “Like an opera.”
“It was fucking hell,” said Alicia.
After retiring, Mike slipped into the languid life of ex-athletes in Florida. I’d seen pictures of Mike and Alicia appraising paintings at Art Basel. They hosted a benefit for the National Italian American Foundation at their waterfront house. He smoked cigars and golfed with Mario Lemieux and Michael Jordan and James Pallotta, the American owner of Italian soccer club Roma. He golfed a bit more than he cared to, actually.
“I think we got to a point in Miami where we got a little too melancholy,” Mike said. “Maybe that was part of it what fueled what I was doing. I wanted to do something different. And I wanted to do something interesting, and I wanted to do something creative.”
Piazza, who recently turned 50, came of age during the best days of the North American Soccer League. Growing up in Pennsylvania, he was a fan of the Philadelphia Fury, and also the indoor Fever. After he retired from baseball, his appreciation for soccer blossomed. He sat in the stands in Genoa in 2012 when the U.S. men’s national team defeated Italy for the first time. He and a friend flew to Brazil for the 2014 World Cup—“a bucket list sort of thing.” He loved how, unlike baseball, soccer is truly global, played and watched in every country. He began to think that owning a soccer team might be the most interesting thing someone in his position could do.
“I was retired when my second daughter was born,” he said. “And it’s my kids—I would never trade them for the world—but I remember thinking, ‘Here I am, I used to be hitting home runs in front of 43,000 people, and now I’ve got shit under my fingernails from changing diapers.’ There is nothing you will ever do after you retire that will give you the same buzz as playing. I’m sorry. I was able to recognize that and rationalize it and come to a point in my mind where you know maybe it”—buying a soccer team—“was like this super rebound.”
First, he looked at the Premier League. Everton. He flew into London and took a train up to Liverpool, visiting the port city for the first time. Eventually, he concluded the numbers would never work. He dropped down a league to investigate Reading, and also Leeds United. (“I’ve always liked Leeds. It’s weird.”) He pivoted back to the Americas, meeting with the president of Liga MX to discuss maybe buying Las Monarcas de Morelia. (“That would have been crazy.”) Then he investigated his options in Italy. That country seemed like the best fit.
There was the chance to actually live in Italy. Mike’s maternal grandparents are from Sicily. (Piazza translates as “public square;” the welcome rally in Reggio Emilia was held in Piazza Prampolini.) He didn’t visit his homeland until he was in his 30s, but when he did, he felt Italian. He loved the food, the wine. He identified with the people. Also, the soccer landscape appeared much more open.
“I believe that Italian soccer clubs are the most undervalued assets in sports,” says Joe Tacopina, the American owner of Venezia FC. Tacopina was also part of the initial group of Americans that bought Roma, in 2011. “This worldwide club, one of the best-known teams on the planet. And we paid just 110 million euros. For the whole club! For Roma! You can spend that much on just one good midfielder!”
Piazza first wanted to buy Parma, a Serie A club then in bankruptcy. Ultimately he felt Parma carried too much debt for him to absorb. Reggiana looked more attractive. Despite being in Serie C, the team’s passionate fans bought an unusually high number of season tickets. Reggiana also played in a top-flight stadium shared with Serie A club Sassuolo. Unlike a Premier League team, or a team already in Serie A, this was a club he could buy cheap and build.
Alicia, who refers to Mike’s ownership dream as “his midlife crisis,” offered up a counter argument.
“Who the fuck ever heard of Reggio Emilia?” she asked. “It’s not Venice. It’s not Rome. My girlfriend said, and you can quote this—and this really depressed me. She said, ‘Honey, you bought into Pittsburgh.’ Like, it wasn’t the New York Yankees. It wasn’t the Mets. It wasn’t the Dodgers. You bought Pittsburgh!”
In their Miami living room, Mike tried to interject but she stopped him.
“And imagine what that feels like, after spending 10 million euros. You bought Pittsburgh!”
“It’s not easy for an American to come to Italy and try to do business in Italian soccer,” says Gaël Genevier, a midfielder and the Reggiana team captain during Piazza’s ownership. “It’s a jungle. And when you have money, it’s even worse. Mike had a big wallet, he was American, and he didn’t know the soccer in Italy. And I think that’s why he had a lot of problems.”
Soon after Piazza bought Reggiana, he set out to raise the visibility of the club. He gifted Jimmy Kimmel a maroon jersey, on air. The New York Times flew over a reporter for a feature story. On Sports Illustrated’s “Planet Fútbol” podcast, Piazza talked about market discipline, about having a financial plan, about sticking to the plan for the long haul.
“When I took over the club I had a meeting with all the staff,” he told host Grant Wahl. “I said, if you don’t believe we can get to Serie A in five years, then I respectfully ask you to leave right now.”
Turns out, that’s not how it works in Italy. Piazza was free to fire anyone, but whoever he did fire still had to be paid, often for years. Contribute, they call it. In the three months between Piazza’s purchase of Reggiana and the moment he actually took over operations, the number of people employed by the club ballooned. The sporting director he inherited collected a bigger salary than the sporting director of Lazio, in Serie A—and for three years, guaranteed, no matter what. The players’ contracts were exceptionally generous for the Italian third division. The team captain told Piazza so. “They were attractive contracts for even B, one level up,” Genevier says. Piazza was overpaying for everything.
The year before Piazza bought Reggiana, the club finished in seventh place in its division, with operational costs of around 500,000 euros. In Piazza’s first season with the club, Reggiana finished in fifth place, but at a cost to Piazza of more than six million euros.
“When the auditors told us that, it was deafening to our ears,” recalled Alicia. “I turned to Mike and said, ‘What the fuck did you just do?!”
Mike decided he could no longer work with the front office he’d inherited. He also cut ties with his original partner, an Italian he knew from Miami. Looking around for someone who could protect his interests, he didn’t see many options.
“Alicia became the only one I could trust,” Mike said. “I basically took the budget and I turned to her and went, ‘Help. I don’t know what to do.’”
From that point on, Alicia Piazza took charge of Reggiana. And she started making changes.
Alicia Piazza began modeling in her teens and kept at it for a decade. After appearing in Playboy—Miss October, 1995—she saved some lives on the TV show “Baywatch” before showcasing a Broyhill dinette set as one of Barker’s Beauties on “The Price is Right.” She earned a master’s degree in psychology while in Miami. For more than a decade, she had seen herself primarily as a mom to their three kids.
Suddenly, she was vice president of AC Reggiana 1919.
Cost-cutting became her priority, in a way that felt personal. Every dime squandered was a direct hit to the family’s net worth. She ordered the drivers for youth team buses to stop dropping off players at their houses, to save on gas. She ordered the players to wash their own uniforms. (“I don’t think she realized that in Italy not everyone has a washing machine,” says Kondratenko, the American who handled social media for Reggiana.) She typed angry texts, calling employees she fired “conmen” and “frauds” and “liars.” The salutation of one text Alicia shared with me, sent to the team’s former sporting director: “Fuck off, loser.”
“I was the bitch,” she admitted. “I was the bad guy. And I’m sure I have a lot of enemies, and I’m sure you heard a lot of bad things about me and I don’t give a shit. I ripped the mask off so many faces.”
The Piazzas put their Miami Beach house on the market in January. Alicia sent a general email asking if anyone in the front office might want to buy it, asking price $18.5 million. She encouraged a friend of hers in Parma—the one who compared Reggio Emilia to Pittsburgh—to design a jewelry line to celebrate Reggiana’s 100th anniversary. The whole office sat in meetings to decide which rings and bracelets in the collection worked best. “I always thought the club would never fold before the anniversary, just because of all the time she put in on the jewelry,” says Kondratenko. Deviating from her mission to cut costs, Alicia renovated the players’ locker room, adding new tile and an extra toilet. One day, Kondratenko was pulled from her regular work assignments to shuttle Brande Roderick—a Playmate, a “Baywatch” lifeguard, and Alicia’s close friend—to the train station.
“My life plan is not to be doing errands for Playmates,” Kondratenko tells me.
The clear goal in the second season was for Reggiana to earn promotion to Serie B. New sporting director Ted Philipakos, an American who came over from Venezia FC, upgraded Reggiana’s quality on the pitch. He also found a new coach in Greece, where Philipakos holds dual citizenship and retains connections in the sport. They agreed on terms. The coach flew up to Reggio Emilia with his staff, ready to sign his contract and get started. Only after he arrived did the Piazzas balk at the compensation. Alicia offered to pay him and his staff 15,000 euros less than the original offer, a relatively small sum. After the coach protested, she floated a smaller cut of 7,500 euros. The coach flew back to Athens, on principle.
When Mike named Alicia the club vice president, he stepped back a bit. “He likes to stay above the fray,” she said. “It’s not like he’s a pussy or he needs his wife. It’s the way he’s comfortable. He’s always been like that.” In her newly elevated role as Reggiana’s “first lady,” she became a bit of a media sensation. She gave interviews at the team headquarters. She answered questions at restaurants when reporters approached her table, filming. “Alicia always talked down about Reggiana being a peasant team in a peasant town,” says Kondratenko. “She thinks these people have no class, but in some aspects they were super impressed with Alicia. She has money, she’s from the U.S., she has a Chanel bag and a Gucci bag.”
The influential magazine Sportweek invited Alicia to sit for a long interview. It’s her understanding that she was the first club vice president ever to be formally interviewed, and the first woman at any level in Italian soccer.
“I knew we had to get our story out about the stadium,” she said. “And I was feeling there was a conspiracy and I was feeling something (dark) in this underbelly.”
When Reggiana rose to Serie A in 1993, the club and the government of Reggio Emilia recognized the need for a home stadium worthy of the top flight. Locals funded much of the new stadium themselves, purchasing season tickets years into the future to cover construction costs. But Reggiana lasted only two campaigns in Serie A. The club itself went bankrupt. Ownership of the stadium reverted to the city, and the mayor put it up for auction. A billionaire named Giorgio Squinzi bought it, cheap.
Squinzi is the head of Mapei, a conglomerate that sells paint and adhesives. He also owns Sassuolo, a Serie A club which now plays its home games in Reggio Emilia, in the stadium Reggiana built, which Squinzi renamed after his company. Reggiana still played there, too, though they had to pay rent. In a development that Alicia noted on Instagram, the rent almost doubled in the short time between when Mike bought the club and when he actually took over its operation. That’s what Alicia wanted to talk about with Sportweek publisher Andrea Monti.
“He’s balding but he’s powerful and he’s become sexy,” she said of Monti. “He apparently never comes into these interviews, but he comes in and shakes my hand. Everyone thinks it’s because I’m cute, I know. But I was hungover and I was not cute that day. He crosses his legs and he stays for 45 minutes. Then he says this to me, which I will never forget:
“‘Reggio is a strange town and it’s run by the politicians. Don’t you wonder why that town has the (Calatrava) train station? There’s a lot of money there but it’s all controlled by Squinzi. But I think you, my dear, are going to give him a run for the money.’”
From that meeting on, Alicia vowed “not to give fucking Mapei another dime,” she said. “And let me tell you, that was the point where it was like, ‘Alicia sank the company.’”
On March 8th, reportedly at Alicia’s urging, Mike Piazza held a press conference to address Reggiana’s growing debt to Mapei. “It was the worst day of my life,” says Kondratenko, who recorded the press conference in a video that went viral, not just in Italy but around the world. Piazza sat at a table, Alicia silently on his right, an interpreter to his left. Ads for Riunite wine and Parmigiano Reggiano flashed and dissolved on a screen in front of his microphone. “We’re invested in this community,” he said in his opening. “I’ve moved my family here, my children here, to be part of this community.” He slapped the table, hard. “And we deserve respect!”
While Mike spoke in English, he showed impressive fluency in Italian hand gestures.
“We are not going to be PUSHED AROUND by a multi-billion dollar corporation,” he continued. “The stadium was built for this team.” He tapped his index finger on the table three times. “By these PEOPLE!” He tapped a couple more times, furiously. His voice almost cracked when he said, “We’ve reached out in friendship to try to form a coalition with the mayor, with Mr. Squinzi, with Sassuolo, with Mapei, and we’ve gotten”—he slammed down a fist—“NOTHING!” His hand slashed the air with a karate chop. “NOTHING!” He pointed his index finger. “And I’m sick of it! I’m tired and sick of Reggiana being pushed around. I’m frustrated and I’m….” He inhaled a breath. “Ffffffffreakin’ pissed off!” He fell back in his chair and let the translator have at it. Alicia remained motionless.
This went on for more than 10 minutes. He said he isn’t a quitter, but he has his limit. If the rent wasn’t lowered to at least the league average for Serie C, he’d walk away.
“Probably that was the first step in an exit strategy,” says Gazzetta reporter Della Porta.
There was a period early in the second season, in the fall of 2017, when Alicia wasn’t there. She returned to Miami for a bit, to prepare their house for sale. Right after she left, in a development Reggiana supporters tell me is no coincidence, the play of the team dramatically improved. Reggiana strung together two unbeaten streaks of eight games each, vaulting the club from 15th place into second, tantalizingly close to automatic promotion to Serie B. Mike, who stayed in Italy, got hands-on with the team, pulling players aside for one-on-one interviews.
“We knew he was a good athlete, he won a lot of things,” says Genevier. “His Italian wasn’t very good—he spoke in English and the translator translated everything to the players—but he was very, very positive inside the locker room. I remember the players were very happy after each speech of Mike’s. He was the president but he was like a player.”
Without the Greek coach they’d failed to sign, the team was forced to use a Frankenstein’s monster for a manager: One man, who had his coaching license but no experience in Serie C, became the titular leader, while two coaches from the youth teams—both lacking the proper licenses—picked the rosters and the tactics and ran the training sessions.
Somehow it worked. Mike witnessed away victories over Santarcangelo and AlbinoLeffe. Before kickoff, he’d shake hands with the ultras and give his pep talks in the locker room. He followed the action closely.
“When that ball went into the net, I felt like I was playing again,” Mike said. “I’ve never done cocaine, I’ve never done crystal meth, I’ve never done hard drugs, or any drugs for that matter besides aspirin. But let me tell you, that was fucking intoxicating.”
Reggiana finished the regular season in fourth place in their division. The team could still rise to Serie B by winning a playoff tournament. In the quarterfinals, Reggiana matched up against Siena, a strong club, for a home-and-home series. Reggiana won the opener, 2-1. In the second leg, down in Tuscany, Siena held a 1-0 lead deep into the second half. The tie in aggregate meant Siena would advance thanks to that club’s better regular-season finish. But in the first minute of stoppage time, Reggiana scored. In his box, Piazza leapt from his seat.
“Mike was into these games,” says Philipakos. “Obviously he had a lot of money on the line—that was a factor. But the raw emotion wasn’t just about protecting his investment. It was about competition. He was very engaged. When we equalized in stoppage time, he exploded. What followed minutes later was visible heartbreak.”
What followed was decried as “unjust” by Reggio Emilia mayor Luca Vecci. In the sixth minute of stoppage time, a Siena midfielder lofted a ball into the Reggiana box. In the scramble, a Siena player pushed over one of Reggiana’s defenders. Somehow, the referee called a hand ball on the toppled fullback. Yes, the ball briefly touches the player’s arm, but he was on his back from the fall, and he fell because he’d just been bodychecked. Still. Penalty. Siena converted in the 109th minute, with the last kick of the game. Reggiana lost the series. No promotion. Ultras stormed the pitch, looking for blood. Even the mayor ran to midfield.
“It was horrible,” says Genevier, the team captain. “I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve played more than 300 games in Italy and this one was really the worst one.”
The next day, Mike Piazza posted a message on the official Reggiana website:
“Last night I could not comment because I had to go home with my children. I regret that they had to witness such corruption and incompetence. I’m deeply disgusted and angry. I’m really sorry for our fans, they do not deserve this. It’s really a sad day for Italy and for Italian football. I will never understand how some dirty and corrupt individuals managed to make something so beautiful so repugnant and ugly. I’m sick.”
Two days after the Siena loss, the Piazzas appeared to have emotionally recovered. They hosted a thank-you rally in a small, old stadium near the center of Reggio Emilia. The ultras turned out, as always. Flares burned, flags waved. Smoke floated around Mike, just as it had two years earlier at his grand arrival. The players trooped out in their jerseys, Genevier holding the hand of his young son. The Piazzas stood in front of them. Mike spoke first, in little snippets followed by pauses for translation.
“I want to thank the first lady,” he said, turning to Alicia. She curtseyed in her orange dress. The fans chanted her name. “I’m just going to tell you how much work she has done in the office behind the scenes. And it’s true when I tell you the only reason we’re here today after this beautiful season is because of Alicia. She convinced me to go on. So we all owe a debt of gratitude to her. Grazie!”
Mike kissed her. The ultras continued chanting her name. A female fan stepped onto the grass to offer Alicia a bouquet of white flowers.
“These guys played their asses off and they played with so much heart and determination,” Mike continued, turning to the players. “And it’s really sad the way it ended. But that doesn’t change the effort and the drive and the love they applied.”
Mike held up his fists over his head, a signal of strength and resolve. “I salute this team,” he concluded. “God bless! Enjoy the summer! Well done.”
Everyone left the rally thinking the mission continued. The team would stay together, the Piazzas would remain as owners.
“From my perspective, we had righted the ship,” says Philipakos. “If not for a totally absurd referee’s decision maybe we’d be in Serie B right now. We still had all these great things in place. The key players weren’t going to go anywhere. Most of the starters were under contract. We could have hit the ground running, and should have been a really strong favorite for promotion.”
The rally took place on June 5th. Mike flew to New York to throw out the first pitch before a Mets-Yankees game. Alicia stayed in Italy. On June 8th, a Friday, she invited the front office to lunch at a neighborhood café. Everyone shared a spread of cured meats, cheeses, and fresh pasta. Corks popped off wine bottles. It felt upbeat and celebratory. Alicia told them that with the season over, they should all consider themselves on vacation.
She meant more than that. On Monday, a chain and lock hung on the front door to the offices. Zip ties secured the gates to the parking lot. The Piazzas were gone. The players didn’t know what to do. Should they find new teams? Kondratenko says she didn’t know any more than the players. Should she fly back to the States?
“I woke up to a thousand WhatsApp messages asking what was going on,” she recalls. “I couldn’t take a coffee because so many people were coming up to me asking for information.”
On the 13th of June, on the team website, Mike Piazza announced that he’d put the team up for sale. Alicia issued her own statement: “Unfortunately, Reggiana has been under attack from negative forces since Mike’s arrival. … The suspicious loss in Siena was the final blow. We are generous but we are not crazy.”
One week later, the Piazzas returned to Reggio Emilia and were spotted at the team offices. More than a hundred ultras marched into the office parking lot, chanting and demanding answers. Carabinieri—national police aligned with the military—showed up for the Piazzas’ safety. The police advised the Americans to avoid the front door of the complex and exit through the back. Mike assured them it wouldn’t be necessary—he had always enjoyed a good relationship with the fans.
The carabinieri informed him that the relationship had changed. The Piazzas slipped out the back door, under police escort.
At their house in Miami, drinking wine, both Piazzas told me the end was inevitable. The plane was in a nosedive when they entered the cockpit—when they first arrived in Reggio Emilia—and they knew it immediately. They hung on for two full seasons, at great personal expense, only to get robbed in the playoffs against Siena.
“And we had enough!” Alicia shouted. “And they’re like, ‘Well, let’s sign up for next year and lose another four million euros altogether.’ Who’s losing the four million? We are! We’re losing the four million and not you. So we each took a pill”—she’s speaking figuratively—“we said, ‘Romeo and Juliet did this, we’re going to kill ourselves before you fucking get to kill us.’”
The Piazzas and their Italian attorneys initially tried to sell the club to a group of Reggio Emilia businessmen. When a deadline for fielding a team in Serie C passed, the businessmen opted to simply start up their own, new team, with the mayor’s blessing. Reggio Audace—“Bold”—play down in Serie D, with a roster of amateurs and unpaid professionals. The president of the new team tells me he’s still friends with the Piazzas. He wants them to grant him the official Reggiana name, now that they are done with soccer in the city. The Piazzas have said they will probably turn over the name, once the dissolution is complete.
In the public square where Mike made his initial arrival, there’s a small sign stating that it was there, in the same plaza, that Reggiana was founded 100 years ago. The square is ringed with restaurants and shops, including the official Reggiana team store. Piazza still owns the store, technically. When I was there in August, team jerseys remained for sale even though the team itself no longer existed. One T-shirt featured the “C’mon!’ phrase that Piazza cried out at his introduction. A poster of Piazza, from his days in baseball, had been taken down. No one wanted to see it anymore.
“Maybe it could have been different,” Mike told me in Miami Beach. “If I could re-engineer the whole thing I’d go back and save a lot of the money that was squandered. I’d put in my own people, people that knew what we’re doing. But that’s what we learn! We learn those lessons the hard way! There’s a lot of shoulda, coulda, woulda, but I don’t regret doing it.”
I can still see why it was attractive. In the States, Mike Piazza is a former great. A legend. In Reggio Emilia, with Reggiana, his role was active. Running a soccer team in Italy: It really is a romantic idea. He wasn’t simply a rich guy drinking wine on an endless vineyard tour. He wasn’t merely eating incredible food or lounging in a seaside cabana. He was living. He had an identity beyond his days of baseball, which by now are well behind him. “I need to have a project,” he once told Kondratenko. “I don’t want to just play golf all the time.”
I can also see why Alicia wanted out: She never wanted in. “I’m free,” she told me. Instead of sinking more of the family’s cash into a soccer team, they can spend that money weekending in Barcelona, or how about London? “My kids will be fluent in Italian and maybe also French,” she said. “I’m happy.” She didn’t want the soccer project the way Mike wanted it. But then, she’s never hit a home run in front of 43,000 people.
The Piazzas returned to Italy in late August. “I’m surprised they did this,” says Gian Marco Regnani, a calcio blogger in Reggio Emilia. “They’re the enemy.” The family rented the same villa outside of town from when they owned the team. Recently they moved closer to Parma, where the kids go to school. The Piazzas told me their status as outsiders might have been a central problem. They had the ability to pack up and fly away, while for everyone else Reggio Emilia is home.
“I always had a feeling that they were going to leave,” says Regnani. “I never thought they were going to be here forever.”
When I spoke with the Piazzas in Miami, Mike was careful to stress that he had not bankrupted Reggiana. He and Alicia were “dissolving” the club, he said. They were “executing a soft landing.” But they didn’t “bankrupt” a 100-year-old soccer team and civic institution, he insisted.
That was in August. On December 4th, the Piazzas asked a judge to declare the club bankrupt. On December 5th, the judge granted the request. More than 100 creditors, including Mapei, are currently carving up the Reggiana carcass.
In October, Mike flew to Scotland for a week on the Old Course at St. Andrews. In November, he posted a picture from a golf course in Tuscany.
I’ve spoken to him a couple times, at length, since he returned to Italy. The last time we talked, we discussed Reggiana for a while, naturally, but the team and its problems and his brief time running the club seemed like a closed chapter. We talked about Donald Trump and how being an American abroad has given Piazza a wider perspective on immigration. We talked about the Mets for a bit. He told me he’s started getting into rugby on TV. And also Formula 1. He said he doesn’t like to watch Italian soccer anymore. Not even Serie A. “I just don’t,” he said. “Or I think I’m just too hurt to care.”
the wife's quotes are completely out of control
― J0rdan S., Wednesday, 19 December 2018 03:37 (nine months ago) link
lmao i can hear her
― lag∞n, Wednesday, 19 December 2018 03:50 (nine months ago) link
― J0rdan S., Wednesday, 19 December 2018 04:42 (nine months ago) link
Toggle navigation NBA GIVE A GIFTMY TEAMS CITIES NHL MLB NFL NBA CFB CBB SOCCER FANTASY WNBA MMA VIDEO PODCASTS • • •‘The board man gets paid’: An oral history of Kawhi Leonard’s college days
By Jayson Jenks 42 This is my new favorite quote: “The board man gets paid.”
According to former teammates, coaches and managers, Kawhi Leonard didn’t say much during his two seasons (2009-11) at San Diego State. But he did say that, all the time, and it is wonderful: “The board man gets paid.” It says so much about who Leonard was and still is, and it absolutely belongs on a T-shirt.
This is the story about his two years at San Diego State, during which the Aztecs went 59-12 and made the NCAA Tournament both seasons under coach Steve Fisher.
Tim Shelton, forward: He was probably one of the hardest recruits that you’d ever deal with who was that talented. (California’s Mr. Basketball in 2009.) He wasn’t going to text you, he wasn’t going to pick up the phone and talk to you. He just wouldn’t do it.
Justin Hutson, assistant coach: I wouldn’t say hard. I would say different. You couldn’t get him on the phone. Once a week, I’d just have to go up there to his high school (100 miles away in Riverside, Calif.), and I’d make sure he was there first.
Shelton: And it’s part of why the Pac-12 teams didn’t put in extra effort. They were like, “He’s kind of a four-man, and, shoot, we can’t call him and talk to him. He must not want to talk to us.”
DJ Gay, guard: I took Kawhi on his official visit. Honestly, the only thing he wanted to do was get in the gym. We were like, “Kawhi, what do you want to do?” And he was like, “Let’s go work out. Let’s go get some shots up. Let’s play.”
Shelton: We had open gym and were playing. We stopped in between games and introduced ourselves as a team and just chopped it up a little bit more with his mom than him. He introduced himself, “I’m Kawhi. Hey, what’s up.” But if you tried to talk to him, he was like, “It’s cool, everything’s cool, so far it’s cool, it’s nice.” But then he just grabbed the ball and went to shoot. Even during his visit, I’m telling you.
Gay: I think we started up our day playing two-on-two and finished our day getting shots up. That’s just what he wanted to do. He wanted to work. I honestly had no idea what to expect when he left. He didn’t say much. He just wanted to hoop. I had no idea if we were getting him or not. I told coach Fisher: “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to tell you. He didn’t say much.”
Dave Velasquez, assistant coach: My favorite story about Kawhi is when he got to San Diego State his freshman year. He had a math class at 8 a.m. and a writing class at 10 a.m. It was Monday through Thursday, and it was really tough. Our job was to make sure the freshmen were up for that 8 a.m. class. So we were always knocking on their dorm room at 7:30. When we had to find Kawhi for his 8 a.m. class, he was rebounding by himself.
Gay: By far the hardest worker I’ve ever come across, I’ve ever known.
Alex Jamerson, manager: I’ve never seen anyone, ever, work harder in my whole life.
Jamerson: I would show up early to our arena to get things set up for practice. I’m thinking, “Oh, I’m going to be the first guy in the arena just to get things set up,” and I walk out to bring the balls out and he’s already got one or two with him shooting in the dark in the arena. All by himself.
John Van Houten, manager: We used to have to break into the volleyball gym.
Shelton: This was before they had all these swipe cards. We had just one key that we would share to get into that gym. When you didn’t have the key available, you could put the finger under the door at Peterson Gym, and if you knew how to wiggle it right, you could push the latch up and unlock the door.
Van Houten: At first, you could get in and you had access to the lights, you had access to the hoops and everything was good. And then they started cracking down, so we started breaking in, but the lightbox would be locked.
Shelton: So Kawhi had a lamp, and on different occasions, Kawhi would be in there late and the lightbox would be locked, so he’d bring a lamp in there. He’d put his finger under the door and unlatch it and he’d go in there and shoot with just his lamp.
Van Houten: And that’s when they got a new locking mechanism on the doors. And that’s when I got a key to an LDS church, a Mormon church, and they had a full court. … He was gonna find a way to work.
Jason Deutchman, guard: We lost in the first round of the NCAA Tournament my senior year on a Thursday. I took the rest of the weekend off and then I was like, “I’m going to go start training on that Monday.” I remember going in that very first night, three days after we had lost — and he was already there.
Coach Velasquez: We had Saturday morning conditioning, so not only would he be running hard and be in the front, but everybody else would go home after. He would go to the gym.
Gay: There were several times I tried beating him in the gym, but no matter how early I got there, he was already there. Or I tried to stay late, but it got to the point that I just couldn’t do it anymore.
Coach Hutson: Knowing Kawhi, he probably just stayed until somebody left. I’m serious.
(Chris Carlson / AP)Gay: The most he talked was on the hard court, and Kawhi was not afraid to let you know that you weren’t going to score on him, that you couldn’t get past him or that he would score on you. Every time the ball went through the net, he just said, “Bucket. Bucket.” That was it.
Tyrone Shelley, guard: Most people say it like, “Oh, I’m about to get buckets on you.” He was just like, “Buckets. Layup.” Just one word.
Shelton: He’d be like, “You’re not scoring. You’re not doing anything.” Or he’d be like, “No, no, no.” He’d just move his feet and say, “No.”
Gay: You couldn’t score on him, so that’s what he would say: “Nope, nope, nope.” And when he would score on you: “Bucket. Bucket.”
LaBradford Franklin, guard: If he was grabbing a rebound, he’d say, “Give me that” or “Board man” or “Board man gets paid.”
Coach Hutson: If I heard it once, I heard it 50 times. “Board man. I’m a board man.” That’s what he said. Absolutely. “I’m a board man. Yeah, I’m a board man. Board man gets paid.” He spoke in phrases like that.
Shelley: Instead of saying, “We need to walk to the store” or “Let’s go to the store,” he’d just say, “I’m up.” When he leaves, he just says, “I’m up.”
Shelton: If he joked, it would be like one or two comments, and he’d go like, “Yeeee.” He’d make more sounds than he actually talked.
Franklin: What stood out to me about Kawhi was everyone else wanted to score or shoot threes, but he wanted to get every rebound. And one of the quotes he always said was, “Board man gets paid.” The rebounder man, he gets paid. And it’s true. He would say that every day. He would take pride in that. If you think about it, defense and rebounding, those are the two things you might not want to do. That’s not the pretty stuff. But he took pride in that. He cared. (And led the Mountain West Conference in rebounding two years in a row.)
Shelton: Guys coming from high school have trouble with help-side defense. Kawhi made a comment to coach Hutson, who was the defensive coach at the time, and he was like, “I don’t get it, coach. Why can’t they just stay in front of their man like I do? Like, why do I have to play help side?” That was his only comment I ever heard him make about defense: “They should just be able to stay in front of their man like I do.”
Coach Hutson: We would talk about rotations and how to help. I would get him on it about. He was respectful, but he would be very frustrated and say, “Why can’t everybody just guard their own man?” Those were exactly his words. “Why can’t everybody just guard their own man?”
Kelvin Davis, guard: In his mind, everyone should be doing what he was doing. But he didn’t realize everybody couldn’t do what he did. He was a walking nightmare.
Gay: In practice, he would tell us, “Don’t help, I don’t need help, I got it, I don’t need help.” That’s just how he was. That was his mentality. “I don’t need help; why do you need help?” But then it made us better because it challenged us: If Kawhi doesn’t need help, I don’t need help, either. And we turned out to be one of the best defensive teams in all of America that year.
Shelton: He didn’t say much. But he would tell you if you were fouling him in practice. He’d be like, “They fouling me, coach.”
Coach Velasquez: There’s one thing we always laugh about as a staff, and it would always happen at practice. He would drive in there, and he’s big and people would be hitting him all the time. At practice, you don’t really call that. I can’t tell you how many times he would look over and go, “But they fouling me. But they fouling me.”
“Kawhi, you’ve got to kick that.”
“But they fouling me.” It was over and over. In games, he wouldn’t really have a lot of dialogue with refs, but you’d definitely hear, “but they fouling me,” two or three times a game.
Shelley: There was no backtalk. Unless he was getting fouled.
Coach Hutson: There was a certain time I wanted everybody to lock and trail in practice. I was very clear that there are times you don’t have to trail on the baseline; there are times you can cheat the screen and shortcut and get there. But right now we’re going to work on lock and trailing. I was very clear that this was the way we were going to do it. And I remember Kawhi just takes his own route. I made everybody run, and he was upset about it. He was definitely pissed about it. A man of few words, but every once in a while he said something.
Van Houten: The coolest part about Kawhi: He plays mini hoop. In every house I’ve ever been to, he always had a mini hoop. You can only play with your left hand. You can’t play with your right hand. That’s a really cool thing because he’s working on his game even when he’s just at the house.
Franklin: He had a Nerf goal on the back of the door in his apartment, and he would just shoot. Friends would come over, playing 2K, and he would challenge us to a free-throw contest.
Van Houten: He’d come over to my house and he’d watch Michael Jordan highlights. We called them “Mike highs” … I mean, like four or five hours at a time.
Coach Velasquez: We’d be done with the game and he’d be on his phone watching Jordan on YouTube. Right away. He wasn’t texting. He was watching Jordan on YouTube. He’d watch it all day, every day.
Shelton: You would see him watching that stuff. But he still wouldn’t talk about it.
Coach Velasquez: Coach Fisher had a no-cellphone policy at team dinners, but Kawhi would have his phone on his lap watching Jordan highlights. He would really study his moves.
Franklin: On his phone, his background was Michael Jordan. … He would always say, “I’m Mike. You like LeBron, you like Kobe? Yeah, they’re cool, but I’m Mike. I want to be the best, the greatest.” And from how he carried himself, we knew he was serious. We knew that’s what he really wanted.
(Lenny Ignelzi / AP)Van Houten: The only thing we’d give him shit for was his hands. Like, “Damn, you make that iPhone plus look like an iPhone 5.” Or like, “Damn, it should be a cheat code to play with those hands.”
Deutchman: There were definitely a few jokes about self-pleasure techniques. (His hands) could be helpful or harmful, depending on your perspective. With those, he could probably do a lot more damage with yourself if you get a little too much into it, considering the size of your hands.
Franklin: I’d always get on him about his braids. Like after a practice or after a long road trip, we’re all sweating, and it would look like he just got out of bed with his hair. But he didn’t care at all.
Gay: I used to call him an Avatar. A freakish Avatar, that’s what he was in college. Long limbs, long body, could run like the wind.
Franklin: From what I can remember, if it wasn’t Michael Jordan highlights, he was watching an episode of the Martin Lawrence show. He could be entertained with that. He’s so low-maintenance. Low maintenance, high production.
Shelley: I don’t remember him going to any parties except for one, and he was just kind of off in the corner hanging out until we left.
Shelton: He would be with the team and kick it and party a little bit because it was San Diego and we were winning. But he’d still be the first person up, and he’d be in the gym shooting.
Gay: I used to tell him that I had an unblockable step-back. It took him a while, but he finally started blocking my step-back. And that’s when I was like, “This is just ridiculous.” I was just like, “Yeah, my time is over.”
Coach Velasquez: I’ll never forget when we played at Cal. He remembered that Cal didn’t think he was good enough. He heard that the head coach at the time, Mike Montgomery, didn’t think he was good enough. He made it his personal mission to go out there and want to destroy Cal. They had a really good team. Allen Crabbe was there. They had a squad. But Kawhi went up there at Cal, and you knew when he walked on the floor that game, they had no chance. It was ridiculous.
Shelton: We played at Fresno State against Paul George, and that was when Paul George was getting some hype. I remember Kawhi watching his clips and us doing the scouting report. Now, he never said anything that he was going to lock him up or that he wasn’t any good. He was just like, “OK.”
Franklin: We were playing against Jimmer and BYU in the tournament. He screamed to coach Fisher, “Let me guard him.” At that time, Jimmer was killing everybody in the country. He was Jimmer Fredette. Kawhi had no business taking that challenge or saying that he was better than Jimmer then, but he did it.
Coach Velasquez: (Coach Fisher) would always say, “Kawhi paid the bills.” Kawhi rebounded. Kawhi was the best defender on the floor. Kawhi ran the hardest in transition. Kawhi always did all the little things that helped your team win.
Shelton: He says the most by his actions. He’s probably the only person that I know, that I’ve met, that I’ve seen, that speaks that loudly through his actions. People are like, “Kawhi’s quiet.” I’m like, “No, he’s not. Have you seen him work? Have you seen the dude work out? Do you know what his routine is over the summer?”
Van Houten: He always found a way. If he wants to become the greatest, he’s going to find a way. If he wants to get in a gym and work out, he’s going to find a way.
Franklin: To this day, I apply everything I learned from him. He was the hardest worker. While we were going to class, he would hold his couple papers for the class in his hand and in his backpack he had his sports gear: his shoes, the ball. He was always in the gym. At night, in the day. You could definitely learn from him. That work ethic can be applied to anything. That was the most craziest thing I saw.
Coach Hutson: I was fortunate enough to be around a genius. He had a genius work ethic.
(Top photo: Harry How / Getty Images)
What did you think of this story?
AWESOMEJayson Jenks is a features writer for the Athletic Seattle. Jayson joined The Athletic after covering the Seahawks for four seasons for the Seattle Times. Follow Jayson on Twitter @JaysonJenks.42 COMMENTSAdd a comment...Anmol K.Jun 3, 11:25am12 likesKawhi is a future HoF.Rick M.Jun 3, 11:38am38 likesWow what an awesome story. I can’t recall ESPN ever doing a story like this. I want someone in the media to ask Kawhi about “The Board Man Gets Paid!”Breanna S.Jun 3, 11:59am21 likesHe's like Kobe with a Tim Duncan personality.J S.Jun 3, 1:25pm15 likesTim Duncan seems normal by comparisonFrankie C.23h ago6 likesHe's better than Kobe, thoughScott E.19h agoTim Duncan would never have exited San Antonio the way Kawhi did.
Keep in mind I mostly sided with Kawhi. But still.Nick Z.Jun 3, 12:00pm3 likesA+ effortBaskar G.Jun 3, 12:08pm4 likesMad geniusPaul D.Jun 3, 12:40pm9 likesAs a former basketball Aztec myself, I am so proud of Kawhi. His game is beautiful.Ansar H.Jun 3, 12:47pm5 likesOmg what a story - the board man gets paid!!!!!!!!Marcus G.Jun 3, 1:14pm8 likes"If he joked, it would be like one or two comments, and he’d go like, “Yeeee.” He’d make more sounds than he actually talked."
Kawhi is a living, breathing memeMyles S.Jun 3, 1:35pm31 likesThese oral history pieces are probably my favorite feature The Athletic does.Greg B.Jun 3, 2:02pm1 like@Myles S. Totally. More please.Ned R.Jun 3, 1:46pm2 likesGreat story with insight into Kawhi.Beta 3.Jun 3, 2:13pm3 likesFantastic work Jayson. What an interesting read.Emet L.Jun 3, 2:14pm8 likesI still can’t get over Dame Lillard using his friend’s Netflix account when he was in the NBADavid R.Jun 3, 2:19pm5 likesThis is one of the most hilarious and revealing stories I’ve read about a basketball player. Kawhi is such an enigma, and I felt like I had no idea what made him tick, but this story really opens a door on him. Very impressive guy. I was at that Cal game and I remember him wrecking us. I only hope the dubs find a way to stop him because his inner determination is obviously EPIC.Jordan T.Jun 3, 2:41pm2 likesKawhi is deadass the Terminator lolMark G.23h ago1 likeNeeded this insight into Kawhi...good story!Adam A.23h ago1 likeWish I started at SDSU in 2010 instead of 2011 so I could watch kawhiKenneth C.23h ago6 likesThe NBA can definitely benefit from more guys like Kawhi who just walks the walk. The league is filled with prima donnas that put their personal agendas before team goals. They can say they care about winning more than anything else but what they care is how much it goes in their pockets.Seth F.23h ago2 likesIn terms of body control and the ability to be a dominant (and game altering) force on defense, I absolutely feel he’s Jordan-esque. Also ‘Board Man Gets Paid’ shirts on Breaking T in 3...2.....Frankie C.23h ago5 likesI honestly cannot believe that nobody really talked about this guy in college. It's not like he was just ok, and would be a solid role player, or was at a mid major and barely played against good teams. SDSU was a legit top 10-15 team those 2 years & they were beating good squads, yet we heard more about Fischer, because he also coached the Fab 5, than we did about Kawhi. How crazy is that?Alex N.19h ago@Frankie C. That 2010-11 team was pretty stacked. Lot of good seniors on that squad that went on to have pro careers overseas. They definitely had the talent to go all the way that year.Adam G.23h ago2 likes"Why can't they just guard their man like I do?" Hahaha, made me laugh. I know that feeling, but on a much, much muuuuuuch smaller scale at work.Colin G.23h ago6 likesI thought it would be impossible for me to like Kawhi after he killed my Sixers, but you gotta respect him after reading a story like this.Norman L.23h ago5 likesThis article is everything. What an absolute joy to read.Cheers,Zaid T.23h ago2 likesThe “board man gets paid” motto really showed last night vs GSW. Plenty of possessions where he recovered an offensive rebound.
Good to know!Alex C.23h ago7 likesAs a special education teacher, I wholeheartedly believe that Kawhi is a little autistic or something, which is really really cool. I'd love for him to open up and hear more of his story.Jeremy G.13h ago3 likesI came here to say, this article makes me wonder if Kawhi is on the spectrum. Barely talks, extremely insanely focused, repeats the same habits over and over, makes more sounds than words.Young K.21h ago1 likeWhat a killer robot Kawhi is!Forrest B.20h agoWow, what this article shows me is how well researched the clippers are with Kawhi. This year they've talked about being a black top team, a team that works, a team that doesn't want drama, Doc comparing Kawhi to Jordan. It's crazy.Dan M.12h agoIf the Clips get Kawhi and KD ... gulp. Dynasty probably over in the Bay.Jeff J.18h ago2 likesAs an SDSU grad I feel so blessed and proud of guys like Kawhi because San Diego State will never be a power 5 school where these kinds of guys are on a regular basis. There are a lot of very good players in lots of sports to come out of SDSU, Kawhi, Tony Gwynn, Marshall Faulk, and it feels good to in some small way be a part of that.Gary F.15h agoHe seems like a genuinely nice guy. Very easy to hang out withWill O.12h agoKAWHI SO SERIOUS?!Danny M.12h agoI watched him at SDSU. That 34-3 team was so good and I was bummed that he left after the 2011 season because I really thought they had a very good chance to win the NCAA tourney. That said, I’ve followed his NBA career and hope him continues to work hard and win more titles. He’s the reason I watch pro basketball again. Thanks KL.Dan M.12h ago1 likeMan oh man. What a great story. I am an Aztec alum ... and a life long Warrior fan ... talk about being conflicted.
What I can say, is that Aztecs love Kawhi. LOVE HIM.
There’s a whole lot of pride, and happiness, for all his success.
There is tremendous gratitude to him- during his sophomore (last) season on The Mesa, we had the greatest team we had ever had, and likely ever will, have.
It was like we were Duke, North Carolina or Kansas for a season. I really believe we were one of the 2-3 best teams in the nation that season - we grabbed the highest #2 seed in the tournament that season, so they had us as #5 overall going in. We won our first 2 games in tournament history, I was blessed to be in Tucson for both. I was “fighting them back” as the clock ran out to beat Temple to go to our first sweet 16.
We lost to eventual national champion UConn the next week, some very questionable calls in an incredible game that went down to the final possession. I have no doubt we clobber Arizona the next game, as UConn did, to go to our first and only Final 4. So close.
Kawhi was the difference. Even though he was so raw, could barely shoot a lick... I had never seen such a force of nature before, his effort, his attitude, his intense desire to win. An absolute demon on the boards and defensively. He was surrounded by an incredibly long, athletic, talented team that defended as well as just about any team I’ve ever seen in college basketball. What a incredible season that really put SDSU on the national basketball map for a run of 4-5 years.
Of course, despite Aztec nation’s claimed that he wasn’t ready to come out for the draft. Needed one more season in college. He thought differently. We all know how that has turned out. Nobody was going to deny Kawhi.
There are some incredible Kawhi stories I’ve read and heard about him that speak to his ridiculous work ethic, his focus and single-mindedness to be the best, and a spotlight on what he cares about- his mom, his close friends and family ... and basketball.
― lag∞n, Tuesday, 4 June 2019 17:52 (three months ago) link
I wish that Paul George anecdote had gone somewhere
― reggae mike love (polyphonic), Tuesday, 4 June 2019 21:13 (three months ago) link
A guy I did community service with smoked a blunt with Kawhi in college
― brimstead, Tuesday, 4 June 2019 21:56 (three months ago) link
Oh man, I thought the "yeeeee" anecdote posted in the Finals thread was a joke. What a guy!
― Fetchboy, Wednesday, 5 June 2019 00:59 (three months ago) link
Alex C.23h ago7 likesAs a special education teacher, I wholeheartedly believe that Kawhi is a little autistic or something, which is really really cool. I'd love for him to open up and hear more of his story.
im not comfortable diagnosing ppl but there is something to this.
― be the 2 chainz you want 2 see in the world (m bison), Wednesday, 5 June 2019 01:43 (three months ago) link
his flat affect, difficulty reading social cues, intense interests, repetitive behaviors
― be the 2 chainz you want 2 see in the world (m bison), Wednesday, 5 June 2019 01:46 (three months ago) link
had that exact thought when i read this
― call all destroyer, Wednesday, 5 June 2019 01:52 (three months ago) link
same over here tbh
― Clay, Wednesday, 5 June 2019 02:04 (three months ago) link
Can i get a c+p here plz?https://theathletic.com/1029629/2019/06/15/their-longtime-trade-target-has-gone-elsewhere-so-what-do-the-celtics-do-now/
― Fuck the NRA (ulysses), Sunday, 16 June 2019 21:40 (three months ago) link
After years of meticulous planning, calculated maneuvers and intelligent team-building, a steady stream of frustrations over the past year has now pushed the Celtics into an offseason of deep uncertainty. The latest setback struck Saturday night, when the Lakers reached a trade agreement to acquire Anthony Davis for Lonzo Ball, Brandon Ingram, Josh Hart and three first-round picks, including the fourth overall selection in next week’s draft. Boston had positioned itself to pursue Davis over the past several years but now must move on to the reality that the superstar center will play alongside LeBron James instead.
Could the Celtics have topped Los Angeles’ offer? The answer depends on whom you ask. The Lakers surrendered two promising former lottery picks, a solid rotation piece and a whole lot of draft equity. Based on early indications, the Celtics were wary of throwing all their assets – including Jayson Tatum – on the table knowing Davis could be just a one-year rental. His agent, Rich Paul, made it clear throughout the process that his client preferred other destinations such as the Lakers and Knicks and did not want to land in Boston. If the Celtics still had the promise of a future with Kyrie Irving to flaunt, they could have been more willing to roll the dice on Davis, believing that the talent on their roster would eventually help convince him to stay. But recent signs have suggested the Celtics are likely to lose Irving, and selling Davis on the team’s future would have been difficult without the All-Star guard. Giving up a package headlined by Tatum and the future Grizzlies first-round pick could have been franchise-crippling if it only yielded a one-year rental. At some point, the Celtics needed to decide what type of risk they were willing to take. Without Irving, they might not have been able to build a championship-caliber squad even with Davis around.
There’s risk in standing pat, too. In the suddenly wide open NBA landscape, Boston with Davis would have had at least a small chance of raising a banner next season. Now that he’s off the trade market and Irving appears headed elsewhere too, it’s difficult to envision another path for the Celtics to build a legitimate contender quickly. They could pivot toward a youthful rebuild around Tatum, Jaylen Brown and Marcus Smart. They could straddle the present and future while Gordon Hayward and possibly Al Horford remain on the team. They could try to fortify their roster with a non-Davis star – somebody such as Bradley Beal or even an unforeseen option.
Yet nothing stands out as an obvious way to pry open the contention window again. The Celtics still have enough talent to be good – maybe even very good – but this ownership group has always wanted more than that. With a championship-or-bust mindset, the Celtics, without Irving, do not have a championship team. They do have three first-round picks to dangle on the trade market if they want to bolster the roster around their current core.
Will that core include Horford? Though the Celtics have called keeping him a priority, his future now stands out as a question mark. The star center has a $30.1 million player option for the upcoming season but could turn it down and enter free agency. Such a move wouldn’t necessarily spell an end to Horford’s time with the Celtics because he could ink a long-term deal to stay with the organization. But, at age 33, he might realistically find a better opportunity to win a ring somewhere else. Assuming Irving walks, the Celtics would be left with a core of Hayward, Tatum, Brown and Smart – not a bad group by any means, but not what anybody had in mind this time last summer. Boston’s future, though still promising, looks murkier than it has in years.
The list of disappointments from this season alone is a long one:
After entering the season as favorites to capture the Eastern Conference, the Celtics won just 48 games before falling to the Bucks in the second round of the playoffs.Hayward never returned to All-Star form during his first season after a devastating ankle injury. Several of his young teammates – including Tatum, Brown and Terry Rozier – either regressed or failed to show progress amid complicated team dynamics.Players all seemed frustrated by the failure to find consistent chemistry. The coaching staff never maximized the roster’s talent. The season brought enough headaches that Irving, who verbally committed to re-signing in Boston in October, now appears to be a goner.At the onset of this season, the Celtics thought their first-round pick from the Sacramento Kings would land somewhere in the top five. Instead, the Kings exceeded all preseason expectations; the pick they conveyed to Boston landed 14th at the very end of what is considered a thin lottery.The Lakers, meanwhile, were fortunate enough to vault to fourth in the lottery, then used that pick as one of the centerpieces to a Davis trade. How lucky did the Lakers get on lottery night? Their chance of landing a top-four pick was 9.4 percent.So many of the failures are intertwined. The Celtics now must pivot from Plan A – pairing Irving and Davis – to whatever path they will choose next. They should still field a competitive team regardless, just not the annual contender the organization dreamed about building.
One winner in all this is Tatum, who should finally be free from the trade rumors that dogged him over the first two seasons of his career. With no more huge fish left on the trade market, the Celtics should comfortably move forward with the 21-year-old wing as a franchise cornerstone. Tatum has shown immense potential but must iron out some of the bad habits that limited his impact as a second-year pro. He needs to cut out some inefficient midrange jumpers and grow stronger going to the rim. He should work on his 3-point versatility to reach the volume of all the best shooters. He has stated he wants to emerge as an All-Star and now has his chance – in Boston – to show he can do it. If Irving departs, Tatum will have more freedom but also more pressure to emerge alongside Brown as one of the NBA’s top wing duos.
For the Celtics, the future is now. It’s just not exactly the future the organization dreamed of for so many years.
― Jeff Bathos (symsymsym), Sunday, 16 June 2019 23:48 (three months ago) link
― Fuck the NRA (ulysses), Sunday, 16 June 2019 23:54 (three months ago) link
can yall pls spot me this piece on goga
― micah, Friday, 21 June 2019 10:42 (two months ago) link
Yesterday, a photo Zion Williamson’s media session went viral, with hundreds of media members huddled around his tiny podium. Next to that madhouse, the player with the podium next to Williamson’s looked on in the foreground of the photo, seemingly wondering what kind of world he’d stepped into.
View image on TwitterView image on Twitter
Fletcher Mackel✔@FletcherWDSU NBA draft prospect Gogo Bitazde got slotted next to @Zionwilliamson at @NBA draft media day.
Unfortunately he’s a bit overshadowed.
Gogo actually a guy I’ve heard @PelicansNBA have interest in.
2,04311:52 AM - Jun 19, 2019763 people are talking about thisTwitter Ads info and privacyThat player was Goga Bitadze, an international player from the Republic of Georgia who was also invited to the combine, as he’s expected to be selected somewhere in the top-15. Obviously, I don’t blame anyone in the media for being much more rabid about getting set up for the Williamson media session. Zion is the story this week, and in general, the international class has not been discussed in particularly glowing terms for this year’s crop of prospects.
That’s the narrative, at least. However, I do think this crop of international players has gone underrated. It’s gotten much better throughout the season, and has an interesting mix of production, upside, and fit in the modern NBA. Two players — Goga Bitadze and Sekou Doumbouya — have a chance to be picked in the lottery, with Doumbouya expected to be taken there. Luka Samanic will likely be selected somewhere in the first round, with his range expected to be anywhere from 19 to 35. Deividas Sirvydis could hear his name called in the top-40, with four others in Marcos Louzada Silva (“Didi”), Yovel Zoosman, Adam Mokoka and Joshua Obiesie having a chance to be picked.
While most executives see Doumbouya as the top prospect from the international class, I slightly differ and wanted to write about why. While I think it’s close, I actually give a slight edge to Bitadze as the top international in this class — something I never saw coming when the season started. Bitadze has been something of a known asset for the last few years due to his high-level production in Europe as a teenager. However, I had serious concerns about his frame and mobility then that made me concerned about his modern fit in the NBA. He also played with a high level of emotion that sometimes had negative effects on his play. I had him at No. 44 on my big board entering the year.
But over the last year, Bitadze has done everything in his power to quell those worries. He started the year dominant for his parent club, Mega Bemax, averaging 20.2 points, eight rebounds, and 2.6 blocks per game in Adriatic League play while shooting 60 percent from the field and 40 percent from 3. The Adriatic League is considered a strong one, but it’s not the highest level and its relative lack of athleticism didn’t do much to show how Bitadze had grown athletically. So in December, Bitadze was loaned to Budocnost VOLI, another Adriatic League team. However, the transfer allowed Bitadze the ability to compete in the Euroleague, the highest level of competition in Europe.
While with Budocnost, Bitadze continued his run of terrific play. He averaged 12.1 points, 6.4 rebounds and 2.3 blocks in 23 minutes of action per game. While those numbers don’t necessarily jump out to an American audience, it’s worth considering where they ranked in the competition. Bitadze only played 13 games and thus didn’t qualify for statistical leads in categories, but his numbers would have ranked in the top-20 in scoring, fifth in rebounding, and first in blocked shots. Given that, it’s no surprise that he won the Euroleague Rising Star award. But he also continued his strong play in the Adriatic League, and was named MVP there.
These awards certainly don’t equal what Doncic did in Euroleague, but beyond him they’ve likely only been matched in the last five years from a teenage production standpoint by Denver Nuggets star Nikola Jokic. So why is Bitadze not held in that same esteem?
Well, the big difference those two players have versus Bitadze is that they can act as offensive initiators, whereas that’s not his game. The team that takes the Georgian center will instead get a player who is an absolute monster in ball-screen scenarios as a screen setter and roller, in addition to a potentially elite rim protector. It’s a somewhat limited role, but it’s a role he’s been devastatingly effective in overseas. Let’s start on offense, where you can get a feel for his talent.
There are just so many positives. First and foremost, he’s a terrific screen setter. He makes contact and gets his guard space. Additionally, he has a great feel for how the on-ball defender is going to attack the guard, with smart instincts for when to flip screens, or do little maneuvers like sticking out his posterior to create a last-second impediment for a defender. Those little tools of the trade that make fans yell for illegal screens? Bitadze has got all of them in his game as a teenager.
Combined with that, his sense of timing on rolls is spectacular. He knows exactly when to end his screen and start his roll. He’ll slip, or he’ll stick a screen hard. After that, his ability to find the open area is superb. He’s great at rolling into the short roll area if that’s where he sees the soft spot, or he can go all the way to the basket and present as a lob threat. Don’t underestimate his hands here, or the way he presents a big target by spreading his limbs out for ball-handlers either. Bitadze’s ability to catch below his waist is critical for being able to handle pocket passes when those are the ones that are available. Bitadze is going to enter the NBA as a useful screen and roll big man for any guard.
Where Bitadze has potential to really differentiate himself as one of the best screen and roll big men in the game, though, is with the jump shot. He hit 40 percent of his 90 3-point attempts this season, with most of those shots coming above the break in pick-and-pop scenarios. As we’ve seen with someone like Brook Lopez this season, the ability to consistently hit above-the-break 3-point shots is critical to a team’s offense now from the center position. It completely warps the way defenses have to play the opposing team, and creates a ton of space for primary initiators to drive into the paint with. Giannis Antetokounmpo’s forthcoming MVP and Eric Bledsoe’s resurgent 2019 were not accidents: both players were terrific, but the space they had to move was critical.
His percentage is a small sample, after he shot 21 percent from 3 in 2017-18, but there’s reason to believe in him as a 3-point shooter early in his career. Everything mechanically is sound. He needs to keep repping jump shots and getting consistent with his footwork and the cleanliness of his release, but there’s reason to believe he will shoot it. This is far from what concerns me about Bitadze offensively long term.
The more concerning bit is his vision and passing. The 7-footer regularly misses kick-out passing reads for open 3s in favor of contested shots at the basket. He’s not super comfortable making the cross corner kick-out read after a short roll, instead looking to finish at the basket himself. He’s comfortable with dribble-hand-off settings and can put the ball on the deck once or twice going toward the basket, but he’s not going to be able to pick out players all over the court. It’s the idea of passing up a good shot for a great one, and it’s one that often comes up at the next level when guards get doubled and centers have to act as safety valve options that make quick decisions to release the pressure in 4-on-3 settings. That part of his game just isn’t quite there yet.
This is the thing that ultimately kind of limits him as an offensive weapon to merely an awesome pick-and-roll big. There are different thoughts around the league on how developable this skill is, with some executives believing that players pick this up as they get more experienced with the game (Clint Capela with Houston would be an example of this development positively). Bitadze certainly displays a high feel in these scenarios. But others are more skeptical that there will be a high level of growth here.
That’s okay, though, because Bitadze’s defensively ability figures to make him valuable, at the very least around the basket. His ability to protect the rim is extremely high level in Europe due to his sense of timing and desire to contest everything. He’s a smart rotator from the weak side, knowing what shots he can get to. In fact, whereas many consider Jaxson Hayes to be the best rim protector in the class, I’d humbly suggest that folks reconsider Bitadze in that conversation.
Bitadze is very real threat to block shots when you go inside the paint. He’s smart at playing gap defense between the ball, the basket, and the man he’s supposed to be guarding. But the downside to his activity can be fouling problems. Bitadze fouled 3.8 times per 23.4 minutes, which can artificially limit the amount of time he can spend on the floor. This remains a very real question about him: can he do his job protecting the rim while also staying on the floor for 28-30 minutes a night? This is also, at times, where you’ll still see his emotion get the better of him. For the most part, he’s done a good job of taking that fire he plays with and using it positively. But it’ll still come out in frustration after a few repeated foul calls.
As you can see a bit of in the clip above, Bitadze has also improved his movement skills quite a bit. His strong awareness helps, and I think there’s a chance he’s a liability out in space at times against the quickest guards. He’ll need to prove at the next level that he can play out on the floor in high-stakes situations when he might get attacked repeatedly. I don’t think you’re going to want to play much switch coverage in ball-screen scenarios with him on the floor, but I’m not convinced that he gets attacked repeatedly out there if you do that, either. He can be a legitimate positive on defense if you can play long, athletic players around him that filter players toward him around the hoop.
To put it all together, I see a player in Bitadze who, as long as foul issues don’t overwhelm him, is going to be among the most NBA-ready players in this class. In many ways, despite their age gap not being very large, Doumbouya is something of the antithesis of that. While his upside is rather large due to his athleticism and skill set, I think it’s going to take Doumbouya a couple of years to come into his own on the NBA level. His consistency in the French league for Limoges just isn’t quite there yet.
Doumbouya certainly has the higher ceiling, but at the end of the day, a draft pick’s value is not necessarily about who is going to be the best player 10 years down the road. Rather, a draft pick’s value is solely determined based upon how much value the team that selects the player derives from him, either based off of production or what it receives in a trade. And while I do see Doumbouya as becoming a successful NBA player in his 20s, I also have a real concern that he might be a guy who is better for his second team than his first team, given how impatient NBA organizations can be with their rookies.
It’s also worth noting my own personal biases as an evaluator, as I do tend to default a bit more toward production and polish than unfinished products, particularly when drafting outside of the elite tiers of the draft. I have both Bitadze and Doumbouya in my fourth tier, with Bitadze at No. 8 and Doumbouya at No. 10. Now, I do think Bitadze is a bit more scheme dependent, whereas you can see Doumbouya working just about anywhere. You have to be a team that’s willing to play more drop coverage in pick-and-roll as opposed to switching with your 5 man at all. But with teams beginning to utilize more zone-like, help-heavy schemes that keep the center in the middle of the paint on defense, more roads are opening up for Bitadze to find success at the next level.
Ultimately, I feel confident in Bitadze turning into a starting quality center due to the overall polish of his skillset and the upside that he’s shown over the last year with his body and his shooting ability. He’s not only my No. 1 international player in this class, but also my top center, as I believe in his rim protection giving him defensive value in the right scheme, and his offensive skill set being better than Hayes’ both now and into the future.
Bitadze might not exactly be well known by the media, yet, and he might not be the story this week. But I’m betting that if you give it a couple of years, they’ll know all about him.
― call all destroyer, Friday, 21 June 2019 15:26 (two months ago) link
― micah, Friday, 21 June 2019 20:02 (two months ago) link
please and thank you
― hollow your fart (m bison), Monday, 24 June 2019 19:30 (two months ago) link
SAN ANTONIO – The question was simple, and Gregg Popovich provided a simple answer that today can be used as insight to what the Spurs could be seeking when free agency kicks off at the end of this month.
What was the decision to bring veteran Dante Cunningham onboard after the two sides agreed to a one-year, roughly $2.4 million deal last year?
“He’s veteran,” Popovich said during Spurs media day before last season. “He’s a pro. He plays aggressively. He can play some defense; he can score; he’s been with other programs; and he’ll add another player that’s been around and understand how this works.”
Cunningham, 32, certainly provided his fair share of moments for the Spurs. His best outing, on the stat sheet, came on Nov. 19 when he scored 19 points on 7-of-7 shooting (5-for-5 on 3-pointers), seven rebounds and three assists in a loss to the New Orleans Pelicans.
Popovich praised his defensive efforts in the thrilling Oct. 22 overtime win over the Los Angeles Lakers when Cunningham, before fouling out, secured a game-high 12 rebounds and did his best to help slow down LeBron James. And against those same Pelicans, Cunningham also had a 15-point, seven-rebound outing in the Nov. 3 contest.
In the first 22 games of the season, Cunningham, who was signed to be a role player off the bench, started 18 times, averaging 22.5 minutes for the Spurs.
“We didn’t expect him to be playing all these minutes and he’s taking advantage of the opportunity,” Popovich said after that Nov. 3 game against the Pelicans. “I think he’s been really good for us. He sets the tone defensively. LaMarcus (Aldridge) goes under the bucket, and Dante is picking people up who are really good shooters, or good one-on-one players, and he’s done a great job.”
So, at Cunningham’s price tag, it fair to say the Spurs got a good deal for what he was able to provide when he got extended opportunities. But Cunningham isn’t expected back next season, and the Spurs will have to look to replace his role off the bench.
Unless a significant transaction occurs, the Spurs will be likely operating over the salary cap but not into luxury territory. Hence, they will be able to use the $9.2 million non-taxpayer mid-level exception to add one or multiple players and have the veteran’s minimum slot as well.
If Popovich’s explanation of Cunningham’s signing last season serves as criteria, here are 10 players who could fit the Spurs next season:
Soobum Im-USA TODAY Sports(Soobum Im / USA Today)Trevor ArizaAfter completing a successful stint with the Houston Rockets, Ariza chased the money last offseason and signed a one-year, $15 million deal with the Phoenix Suns. He provided leadership, but the fit wasn’t right on the court.
In 26 games, Ariza averaged 9.9 points and shot 37.9 percent from the field (36 percent from 3) before he was traded to the Washington Wizards last December. He performed better with the Wizards, averaging 14.1 points, 5.3 rebounds and 3.8 assists in 43 games.
The days of Ariza, 33, earning $15 million per season are over. He’s more of a mid-level player now and could be a stable fit for the Spurs — who, league sources told The Athletic, were interested in his services when he became available last season.
The Spurs could offer Ariza the full mid-level or persuade him to take a bit less and use the remaining money to sign another veteran. Ariza is still a good defender who can stretch the floor by hitting the 3. And, as Popovich said of Cunningham, he’s been around and understands how it all works.
If Rudy Gay departs in free agency, perhaps Ariza can help fill the void off the bench. And if Gay returns, nothing wrong with having a similar wing in the second unit or maybe a starter at moments of the season when the Spurs are grappling with injuries.
Jeff GreenSpeaking of the Wizards, forward Jeff Green will be another free agent worth keeping an eye on. Green played last season on a one-year vet minimum valued at roughly $2.3 million, a deal similar to Cunningham’s. Perhaps he would be interested in taking another minimum deal with the Spurs.
Green, 32, averaged 12.3 points and 4.0 rebounds in 77 games with the Wizards last season. He’s known as a locker-room guy and as someone who can provide some big outings at times. The thing is, don’t expect Green to be consistent when it comes to those outings.
“He’s always been such an enigma that you don’t know what you’re going to get night to night,” one Eastern Conference scout said. “But I can also see him being a little Spur-ish in his skill set. I just don’t know if he’ll have the night-to-night focus that Pop would like.”
But the Spurs wouldn’t need Green to come up big every game. If they can live with the type of player he is — a scorer and someone who loves to play but is perfectly fine being a role player — maybe this could be a beautiful one-year partnership.
Wesley MatthewsHere is a name the Spurs flirted with through the buyout market. Matthews said Aldridge and DeMar DeRozan attempted to recruit him to the Spurs before he selected the Indiana Pacers.
Word around the league is the Pacers will not attempt to bring back Matthews, allowing the veteran guard to sign with any team he desires.
Though there were signs of slippage, Matthews is still respected as a solid 3-and-D wing. If he can accept a secondary role, Matthews could provide the Spurs with another 3-point threat who can stretch the floor for Aldridge, his former teammate in Portland.
It might take more than the vet minimum to get Matthews to San Antonio. If the Spurs decide to split the mid-level money between two players, maybe they could persuade Matthews with the right deal.
But if the two recruiters made any traction with Matthews months ago, it shouldn’t take much to get Matthews to sign with the Spurs.
Jeff Hanisch-USA TODAY Sports(Jeff Hanisch / USA Today)Wayne EllingtonOf the players mentioned so far, Ellington is probably the perfect Spur. Ellington can shoot, is a better defender than what he’s given credit for and is a reliable team defender.
With the Detroit Pistons, Ellington was charged with the task of defending multiple positions, and some of the assignments were bigger than Ellington. But the University of North Carolina product held his own and competed.
After he was traded by the Miami Heat and waived by the Phoenix Suns, Ellington signed with the Pistons, where he finished the season averaging 12 points and shot 37.3 percent on 3-pointers. What makes Ellington stand out the most when it comes to potential free-agent targets are his character and team-first mindset.
“He’s that 1,000 percent,” a league exec said when discussing Ellington. “He would fit what is known as the Spurs’ culture. He would embrace it. He wouldn’t mind being coached hard by Pop because he’s going to play the right way.”
Jonathon Simmons“His best days were there,” the league exec said. “Maybe they can rekindle that.”
Simmons’ rights are now with the Washington Wizards after he was traded on draft night by the Philadelphia 76ers. Many around the NBA expected Simmons, who is scheduled to make roughly $5.7 million next season, to be waived by next month, but that all changed Thursday.
As of now, the feeling is the Wizards will keep Simmons around. Should that change, he’s guaranteed only $1 million next season if he’s waived.
Would the Spurs be interested in a possible reunion if Simmons’ time with the Wizards is short-lived?
If he becomes available, Simmons will most likely be grouped with the second or third wave of free agents. Should the Spurs miss out on some bigger targets, maybe Simmons is still around and decides to return on a one-year deal, hoping to have a productive season and make up lost revenue next summer.
Though he didn’t show much of it in Philly, Simmons is still a capable defender who can create his own shot and get into the lane. The Spurs do need more 3-point shooting, but Popovich always loves a player willing to compete and defend. And the Spurs should know how to incorporate Simmons better than any other team, as the Houston native developed under their watch before he departed in 2017.
Rondae Hollis-JeffersonIn one of the earlier news items of the week, ESPN.com reported the Brooklyn Nets did not extend Hollis-Jefferson his $3.9 million qualifying offer. He will now become an unrestricted free agent.
League sources have informed The Athletic that Hollis-Jefferson will explore his options and has not pinpointed any potential suitors. Though nothing is official, the Spurs should consider the former University of Arizona standout.
It’s known the Spurs like to get in-depth intel on players they are considering for their program. Sean Marks, the former Spurs GM and current Nets GM, should be able to provide all the insight needed about Hollis-Jefferson’s potential fit.
On the court, Hollis-Jefferson is praised for his defense and has good size at 6-foot-7. He can provide energy off the bench and would be reliable in transition with his athleticism. The problem …
“No offense to speak of,” a scout said. “He’s supposed to be a three, but he can’t put the ball in the hole.”
And here is what will be the issue for Hollis-Jefferson.
In his four-year career, he shot 44.4 percent from the field and 22.3 percent from beyond the arc. Where he makes up for his shooting woes is through his reputation of playing hard. Again, the Spurs admire players who will compete, but whether Hollis-Jefferson provides enough offense will be one of the questions the team will consider if it explores a signing.
Paul MillsapThe Nuggets will need to decide on Millsap soon, as he has a team option worth $30 million for next season.
Millsap averaged 12.6 points and 7.2 rebounds for the second-seeded Nuggets, who eliminated the Spurs from the postseason. Those numbers aren’t terrible, but the price to bring Millsap back to the Mile High City might be a bit too much.
Millsap is one of the better frontcourt defenders, and he’s not afraid to shoot the 3. If he’s in a lineup with Aldridge, he could see plenty of opportunities from beyond the arc.
The question: How much would it cost to add Millsap? He should have a fair share of suitors capable of paying him more than the mid-level exception. But if Millsap has an interest in the Spurs, this is a potential addition that could be intriguing.
Stanley JohnsonSince the trade deadline, Johnson’s name has always been linked to the Spurs. Assistant GM Brian Wright was in Detroit’s front office when Johnson was drafted eighth overall in 2015.
Some are still trying to understand what Johnson, who’s 6-foot-7, is at this level. A guard? Small forward? He’s not the best shooter and is a streaky scorer, but he is also known as a good defender when he wants to compete. The good, or bad depending on perspective: Johnson just turned 23 last month.
Usually, teams will still attempt to develop a player of that age and mold him into something that fits their needs. Whether Johnson will go along with the plan has been the question many league execs have asked when discussing his services.
The talent is there, though. The Spurs might need to do a little convincing — not much — and if Johnson buys in, he could be a quiet steal when it’s all said and done.
Steve Mitchell-USA TODAY SportsCould Amir Johnson, right, be on the Spurs’ radar this offseason? (Steve Mitchell / USA Today)Amir JohnsonSpeaking of Johnsons, don’t forget about Amir. Johnson’s time with the Sixers, like that of Simmons, appears complete.
After agreeing to re-sign with Philly on a one-year deal last summer, Johnson played in only 51 games and his minutes dipped from 15.9 to 10.4 per game. As a reserve, Johnson averaged 3.9 points and 2.9 rebounds.
There has always been some intrigue with the Spurs and Johnson. The team inquired about signing Johnson since his days in Toronto and have kept a close eye on him while he played with the Boston Celtics, league sources told The Athletic. But the time to add Johnson, 32, never seemed to align until now.
Off the bench, Johnson would provide another vet who could serve as an energy guy — play defense, set screens, rebound, convert a few putbacks and call it a day. He’s also close with DeRozan and Gay, as the trio played together with the Raptors.
Robin LopezThis would be a connection-based signing. The connection here is Aldridge, who played with Lopez in Portland. Aldridge loved playing with Lopez, who has always been respected around the NBA as a serviceable big man.
“I like him (with the Spurs) a lot,” the Eastern Conference scout said.
Lopez is a good paint protector and underrated passer, and some look at him as a better rebounder than his brother, Brook, especially on the offensive end. With the Spurs, Lopez would be able to once again play next to Aldridge at times and do what he does best — defend, pass, rebound and set screens.
Lopez, 31, shouldn’t cost too much and could be the right vet-minimum candidate for the Spurs, who need more frontline help with only Aldridge, Jakob Poeltl and youngster Chimezie Metu as the big men currently on the roster for next season.
― big city slam (Spottie), Monday, 24 June 2019 19:31 (two months ago) link
Spurs have a complete roster already and that full MLE should get them a decent vet. Ariza, wes matthews, or Jeff green would fit some me needs on the wing. they lacked for defense last year but not cool with people who can’t hit outside shots given their personnel.
― hollow your fart (m bison), Monday, 24 June 2019 19:39 (two months ago) link
Millsap seems like a fantasy unless they trade Aldridge
― hollow your fart (m bison), Monday, 24 June 2019 19:40 (two months ago) link
plz and thank youhttps://theathletic.com/1066708/2019/07/08/the-good-and-bad-of-al-horfords-fit-with-joel-embiid-and-ben-simmons/
― Fuck the NRA (ulysses), Wednesday, 10 July 2019 18:40 (two months ago) link
Over the course of the 76ers-Celtics battles of the past couple years, Sixers fans have grown quite familiar with Al Horford’s game. You likely know what to expect the 12-year veteran — who surprised the league when free agency opened by agreeing to a four-year deal with Philadelphia — to bring to his new team.
But Horford’s new role figures to be very different than it was with Boston. Specifically, he’ll play quite a bit of power forward next to Joel Embiid. That raises important questions: Does the 33-year-old provide enough spacing at the four, next to Embiid? Is Horford capable of attacking closeouts off the dribble? Can he defend sleek fours nightly?
Then there’s the other part of Horford’s role — his minutes at center, when Embiid is on the bench. How will Horford’s time at the five change things for Ben Simmons?
Let’s dive into the film and see how Horford fits with Philadelphia’s young cornerstones.
The Horford-Embiid pairing
As Rich Hofmann broke down last week, the Sixers will likely stagger Embiid and Horford’s minutes some, but the new duo will still have to share the floor for a minimum of around 15 minutes per night. That won’t be an entirely new challenge for Horford, who has played power forward throughout his career. But he’s never shared the floor with a high-volume post-up player like Embiid.
Ensuring proper post-spacing for Embiid is paramount, and in that sense, Horford is not the perfect fit. While accuracy has never been an issue with Horford’s shot, there’s some concern over whether he has a quick-enough release to get his shot off over scrambling defenders, and the ability to blow by those defenders off the dribble. Without those things, opponents will simply double-team off of Horford and bet that they can recover.
The former is a legitimate concern, as Horford attempted only one 3-pointer with a defender within four feet of him all of last season, per NBA.com. That number sounds scarier than it is — for reference, Dario Saric only attempted 24 such shots in 2017-18 — but Horford’s slow release could still cause problems.
Being adept at both putting the ball on the deck and attacking the rim should help Horford compensate. Underrated in this sense, he’s often able to leave defenders in the dust and glide in for tough finishes.
Horford’s ability to pump fake and go should keep the Sixers’ offense flowing, and mitigates the damage of his tendency to opt out against tight contests. Horford is also a smart, controlled passer out of these situations, and a good finisher.
Again, though, the fit here is imperfect. Embiid’s previous partners at power forward — Saric, Ersan Ilyasova, Tobias Harris — are more prolific from 3 than Horford. The Sixers have to hope that Horford’s driving ability, along with some increased willingness to shoot, will hold things together.
Horford’s fit on the defensive end next to Embiid is much clearer. With Horford’s size, mobility and intelligence, the Sixers are poised to be a top five defensive team this coming season.
His ability to defend fours against small-ball lineups might concern some. Whom does Horford defend when the Clippers play Paul George at power forward? How about when Boston plays Jaylen Brown, Jayson Tatum and Gordon Hayward in the same lineup?
For my money, Horford is switchable enough to stay afloat against those lineups, even though it’s not ideal. Chasing players like Hayward or George will be difficult, but Horford is excellent at surviving in isolations.
Many good teams are going to throw small-ball lineups with dynamic perimeter scorers at the four at Philadelphia. A lot hinges on Horford’s ability to guard — and punish — them on the offensive end. It’s a battle we’ll track all year; my bet is Horford handles it decently well.
The Horford-Embiid pairing will have its challenges on both ends, but I think it will be a fruitful partnership. Horford has hinted a few times that he prefers playing power forward over center, and he certainly has the skills to do it. The defensive upside is incredible, and with any increased willingness to shoot, the offense should flow just fine.
The Horford-Simmons pairing
In recent years, the Sixers have coveted players like Horford — stretch bigs with the ability to play the four or five. They loved that dynamic with Ilyasova in 2017-18, and tried to replicate it with Mike Muscala this past year, but it didn’t work out. Now, they’ve got Horford.
Much of the value in having a stretch five — and perhaps the reason Philadelphia has targeted this type of player — comes in how much it helps Simmons. For starters, it opens things up tremendously in transition. Many teams try to form a shell at the free-throw line to impede Simmons in the open floor. But with Horford, they’ll have to think twice. He’ll be able to waltz into trailing 3s should teams have their big men stationed at the free-throw line, as Embiid does here.
Horford’s threat in pick-and-pops will help Simmons to operate more in pick-and-rolls, as bigs can’t play drop coverages against Horford. It would also open things up for Simmons to play as the roll man with guards, with Horford spacing the floor in the corner.
Defensively, lineups with Horford and Simmons offer a ton of versatility, and the Sixers will be able to switch everything, if they want. The team has always hemorrhaged points on defense when Embiid sits, but that should no longer be the case.
With Horford as the de facto backup center, we’re going to learn a lot about Simmons. Over the past two years, the Sixers have always remained solid when Embiid plays without Simmons, but they disintegrate when Simmons plays without Embiid. Much of that could be blamed on the Sixers’ dreadful backup-center play over the past two seasons. With Horford in the fold, Simmons no longer has that excuse. If the on/off numbers tell the same story this year, it will not be a good look for Simmons.
All things considered, Horford’s fit with Embiid seems less than perfect, but his fit with Simmons — with Horford as the backup center, at least — should be tremendous. The oversized lineups with limited shooting will have their challenges. But with Horford’s unselfishness and intelligence, along with an uptick in attempts from 3, the upside is enormous.
― reggae mike love (polyphonic), Wednesday, 10 July 2019 18:41 (two months ago) link
thanks. that kind of reinforces my thoughts on Horf in Philly; a lot depends on Simmons being able to step up to 20/10 territory
― Fuck the NRA (ulysses), Wednesday, 10 July 2019 18:53 (two months ago) link
anyone have WSJ?
― big city slam (Spottie), Tuesday, 10 September 2019 18:38 (one week ago) link
Kevin Durant’s New HeadspaceThe Nets new star is focused on his recovery and elated to be coming to Brooklyn—so can everyone stop worrying about whether or not he’s happy? “We talk about mental health a lot. We only talk about it when it comes to players. We need to talk about it when it comes to executives, media, fans.”By J.R. MoehringerSept. 10, 2019 8:37 am ET
“Some days I hate the NBA,” Kevin Durant says wearily.
He’s facedown on a padded table, wearing dark workout shorts, a weathered gray DMX T-shirt, a Washington Redskins fleece draped over his shoulders. A physical therapist leans over him, wafting circulation-boosting lasers up and down his surgically repaired right calf.
“Some days I hate the circus of the NBA,” he says. “Some days I hate that the players let the NBA business, the fame that comes with the business, alter their minds about the game. Sometimes I don’t like being around the executives and politics that come with it. I hate that.”
Since June 10, when Durant crumpled to the floor with a ruptured Achilles, halting Game 5 of the NBA Finals and casting a pall over the rest of the series, it’s been The Question: Will the two-time Finals MVP, 2014 league MVP, four-time scoring leader, ever be the same? But listen to him for just a few minutes: He won’t. He’s already a different person.
The change is more than cosmetic, more than simply leaving the Golden State Warriors and signing a four-year $164 million deal with the Brooklyn Nets. It’s more than dropping his longtime number, 35, which possessed enormous symbolism. (A beloved youth coach and mentor was shot and killed at 35 years old.) The change feels elemental, as if Durant’s brush with basketball mortality made him see how fast it all might go away, how fast it will go away (he turns 31 this month), and it scared him, or matured him, or made him think.
And he was already a thinker. “I’ve always been on a search,” he says.
Producer Brian Grazer, a creative partner, says Durant is one of the most original, idiosyncratic minds you’re likely to meet in the world of sports. Grazer recalls a talk Durant gave at a Google retreat in Sicily. During the Q&A someone asked what made Durant so great. Coolly, Durant replied: “Paranoia.”
But all this is guesswork, and Durant hates the way people are forever guessing about his psyche, which is another reason he hates the NBA. So here’s another guess: Maybe he’s not changed, or not merely changed—maybe he’s also dead tired. He sounds tired, looks tired, with good reason. His 12-year NBA career has featured outsize doses of drama, scandal, injuries, gutting losses, fierce beefs, dramatic exits, emotional returns, burner accounts. Even his most devoted fans (Mom and Dad) say the ruptured Achilles and the yearlong layoff it will likely require might be a blessing. In every sense of the word, the man needs to heal.
The healing starts here, in this $24 million neo-brutalist mansion nailed to the side of a cliff above Beverly Hills. Level with the tops of the Santa Monica Mountains, eye-to-eye with the raptors that surf the swirly updrafts, this will be the setting for Phase One of Durant’s rebuild.
In some ways the place is mega-normal, just another stately pleasure dome of superstardom (seven bedrooms, 12 bathrooms; rent: $90,000 a month). But at moments there’s a weird vibe. The house feels like a chrysalis, or a crypt, depending on your point of view, and not simply because the front door is a giant sliding slab of stone. Whatever comes next for Durant—a compromised skill set, a comeback for the ages—it will be determined largely by what happens within these concrete walls, inside these unaccountably dark rooms, and this inescapable truth can really throw off the feng shui. Even the man installing the special low-resistance treadmill in the living room looks a little tense.
Team Durant’s plan is for him to hole up here all summer, then transition to his new home in New York City soon after Labor Day. He’s flying east tonight to look at a few places. Friends have urged him to consider Manhattan, but Dumbo, he thinks, might be more his speed. He wants high ceilings, a sick view, proximity to the Nets practice gym. He lives for a gym, prides himself on rolling out of bed straight into practice. “I don’t wear matching clothes…I don’t wash my face, I don’t brush my hair. I just come in there and go to work.”
This morning, however, the only plan he cares about is the rehab plan. He’s laser focused on this laser. Somehow he even tunes out the blaring big-screen TV across the room. While his friends stretch out on big leather couches, watching White Boy Rick, discussing the plot twists, Durant stretches out on the table, subdued, quiet. This is the flip side of his hatred for the NBA: an almost pious devotion to the game itself and anything that can help him play it at the highest level.
“Without basketball,” he says flatly, “I wouldn’t have done much on earth.” Wouldn’t have traveled the world, or met politicians, entrepreneurs, moguls, rappers, each of whom adds to his store of knowledge and advances his search. “I wouldn’t have seen stuff that I’ve seen, compared to my friends I grew up with. Wouldn’t have gone to India. Or Hawaii.”
His words are suddenly punctuated by bone-shuddering gunshots in surround sound. Someone in White Boy Rick’s world is never going to Mumbai.
The physical therapist, Dave Hancock, cuts the laser, repositions Durant. He rubs around the eight-inch surgical scar on the back of Durant’s calf, kneading the soft tissue to increase blood flow and improve collagen formation. He then manipulates other muscles and tendons in the lower leg to keep them engaged and energized.
Next, Hancock slips Durant’s leg into a boot and sends him outside, into a walled backyard. On metal crutches that look like medieval jousting lances, Durant does a circuit, paces before an outdoor bar decorated with the logo of his new team. Just shy of 7 feet, without a shred of fat, he always traverses earth differently from other humans. (“You can feel his height,” Grazer says.) But with crutches and a boot, his halting-flowing stride is a jarring mix of fragility and athletic grace. Like a baby deer performing the Martha Graham technique.
After the gingerly constitutional it’s time to slide into the infinity pool for one-minute cardio bursts. The infinity pool overlooks…infinity. Durant, however, shows no interest in the view. After easing into the silver-blue water he begins kicking, paddling, maneuvering a rubber ball. When he flags, Hancock nudges. Again. The 45-minute regimen leaves them both gasping.
Hancock hands Durant a basketball (black, Nets logo) and tells him to shoot. The hoop is at the far end of the pool. Floating backward, standing flamingo-style, talking, not talking, looking, not looking, no matter: Swish. Swish. Swish.
Grazer says he once asked Durant what it’s like to choke in a big game. I’ve never choked, Durant said. Everyone chokes, Grazer said. “[Durant] says, ‘I will always shoot the ball—choking is not shooting the ball. If I miss, it’s not my fault. It’s the environment. Or someone else’s fault.’ At first that sounded arrogant. But if you think about it, it makes sense. Choking is not shooting.”
Cardio over, summer sun directly overhead, Durant moves into the dark coolness of the house. A chef brings him a plate. Crispy black cod, parsnip-and-potato purée, chanterelle mushrooms, roasted fennel, followed by crème brûlée topped with fresh whipped cream and sliced strawberries. Durant takes two bites, sets the plate aside. He burrows into the couch recently abandoned by his friends. He has only a short time to rest and regroup. This morning’s regimen will be followed by another this afternoon. Two sessions, every day except Sunday, all summer.
Another athlete might complain about the monotony, says Hancock, who’s worked privately with Odell Beckham Jr., David Beckham, Daniel Craig, U2. But Durant attacks it with an all-consuming fire, which Hancock calls the hallmark of an elite athlete.
In fact, for Durant, rehab began nanoseconds after the injury. He heard the tendon pop, felt the leg turn to lead, knew exactly what lay ahead. He stayed cool, collected, even back in the locker room, surrounded by teammates and executives looking like mourners at his wake. Only when doctors started talking blood clots and other bad outcomes did Durant’s mind go “to a crazy place.”
His phone went crazy too. Calls and texts from everywhere. (Barack Obama: Speedy recovery.) Among the first was his mother, Wanda Durant, whom he immortalized as “the real MVP” in his 2014 MVP acceptance speech. She was watching the game at home in Maryland, in the house Durant bought her. She stepped out of the room for a moment, and when she came back she saw her phone fluttering. Fifteen texts?
She looked at the first. It was from a friend. It just said: Oh no.
Frantic, she rewound the game, pressed pause, put her face close to the screen, looked deep into her son’s frozen eyes, trying to see how bad it was.
It was bad.
She cried when he answered the phone. He told her it was OK, because that’s what the son of a single mother says. She said she was on her way, she’d be on a plane that night. He said no. The next day would be soon enough.
She was at New York’s Hospital for Special Surgery 48 hours later, the last face he saw as they wheeled him into the operating room and one of the first he saw when he woke from the anesthesia. She then followed him to a suite at the Four Seasons, where she did all the things he couldn’t do for himself. “He was in the tub,” Wanda says, “and I was washing him, and we were talking, making sure his leg didn’t get wet and the bandage stayed dry, and he said: ‘Mom, it feels good to have you take care of me.’ And it just—”
She stops, overcome with emotion.
The moment was especially sweet because not long ago mother and son were on the outs. Wanda had been handling Durant’s financial affairs since he broke into the league, but in 2014 he decided to take control. It caused a rift, which took months, Durant says, to heal.
After several days Wanda went home, and Durant moved to a temporary apartment in SoHo. His father came. (Wayne Pratt wasn’t present for most of Durant’s childhood, but he’s now part of Durant’s small inner circle.) They ate vegetarian takeout, watched The Black Godfather, spent a whole afternoon together without once mentioning basketball, even though the NBA’s free agency period was days away. The basketball world was breathlessly waiting to hear which team Durant would choose, and Durant’s father was breathless too. But Durant was determined to keep his own counsel.
A far cry from three years ago, says Rich Kleiman, Durant’s manager, business partner and close friend. In the summer of 2016 he and Durant rented a palatial estate on Further Lane in the Hamptons and welcomed a procession of lobbying delegations from various teams, including a party of four stars from Golden State. This time around, shortly before the start of free agency, Kleiman met Durant for lunch at Cipriani, a chic restaurant in SoHo, and gave him one last overview of all the teams and all his options. Durant said: “All right. Well. I’m going with Brooklyn.” Just like that.
Kleiman was taken aback: For real? Yes, Durant said. End of discussion. (Looking back on both free-agency crossroads, Kleiman laughs. “The Hamptons and Cipriani? How bougie can you get?”)
Durant says his decision-making process was as simple on the inside as it looked from the outside. Brooklyn was the right fit; he just knew. He didn’t even speak to the Nets before his decision, he says. He didn’t need a PowerPoint. He’s always felt big love as a visiting player at Barclays Center, he says, and he wondered what it might be like if he were on the home team. Plus, the Nets offered the opportunity to join his “best friend in the league,” Kyrie Irving.
Of course, Durant says, he was conflicted about leaving the Bay Area. “I came in there wanting to be part of a group, wanting to be part of a family, and definitely felt accepted,” he says. “But I’ll never be one of those guys. I didn’t get drafted there.… Steph Curry, obviously drafted there. Andre Iguodala, won the first Finals, first championship. Klay Thompson, drafted there. Draymond Green, drafted there. And the rest of the guys kind of rehabilitated their careers there. So me? Shit, how you going to rehabilitate me? What you going to teach me? How can you alter anything in my basketball life? I got an MVP already. I got scoring titles.”
That he stood out, stood apart from the group, felt preordained. “Some days I hate the circus of the NBA,” Durant says. “Some days I hate that the players let the NBA business, the fame that comes with the business, alter their minds about the game.”
“As time went on,” he says, “I started to realize I’m just different from the rest of the guys. It’s not a bad thing. Just my circumstances and how I came up in the league. And on top of that, the media always looked at it like KD and the Warriors. So it’s like nobody could get a full acceptance of me there.”
He scoffs at rumors that his public disagreement with Green, in the final moments of a game last November, was determinative. (Durant scolded Green for not passing him the ball; Green then berated Durant, repeatedly calling him a bitch.) It was “a bullshit argument,” he says, “that meant nothing. Absolutely nothing. We were good before it. We were great.”
And great, he insists, after.
But there was also this: From a strictly competitive, strategic standpoint, Durant had come to fear that Golden State had hit a ceiling.
“The motion offense we run in Golden State, it only works to a certain point,” he says. “We can totally rely on only our system for maybe the first two rounds. Then the next two rounds we’re going to have to mix in individual play. We’ve got to throw teams off, because they’re smarter in that round of playoffs. So now I had to dive into my bag, deep, to create stuff on my own, off the dribble, isos, pick-and-rolls, more so than let the offense create my points for me.” He wanted to go someplace where he’d be free to hone that sort of improvisational game throughout the regular season.
His tenure in the Bay Area was great, he says, but because of media speculation, fan anxiety, “it didn’t feel as great as it could have been. We talk about mental health a lot,” Durant says. “We only talk about it when it comes to players. We need to talk about it when it comes to executives, media, fans.”
A small detail, perhaps telling: He hasn’t been back to the Bay Area since June, since the injury, and he has no plans to return. His staff cleaned out his apartment in San Francisco, packed up the furniture, the memorabilia, including the MVP trophies that sat on the mantel. He doesn’t know when he’ll return again.
Meaningful? Merely logistical? People want to know. Desperately. Durant knows they want to know. Breakups represent change, and change represents death—naturally people obsess. Some still need clarity on Jennifer Aniston and Brad Pitt, the Beatles. What the hell did Yoko do?
Durant has a Ph.D. in this phenomenon. When he left the Oklahoma City Thunder for Golden State, reaction was intense. Overnight he went from icon to traitor. The memory still pains him.
“People coming to my house and spray-painting on the for sale signs around my neighborhood,” he recalls. “People making videos in front of my house and burning my jerseys and calling me all types of crazy names.”
At his first game in Oklahoma City as a visitor—February 2017—fans yowled for blood and brandished cupcakes, because Durant was supposedly soft. “Such a venomous toxic feeling when I walked into that arena,” he says. “And just the organization, the trainers and equipment managers, those dudes is pissed off at me? Ain’t talking to me? I’m like, Yo, this is where we going with this? Because I left a team and went to play with another team?”
His mother recalls one particularly appalling piece of video: a Thunder fan firing bullets into a No. 35 jersey. Bullets—after she and Durant and half his extended family relocated to Oklahoma, after they embraced the community, after Durant gave a million dollars to tornado victims.
“I’ll never be attached to that city again because of that,” Durant says. “I eventually wanted to come back to that city and be part of that community and organization, but I don’t trust nobody there. That shit must have been fake, what they was doing. The organization, the GM, I ain’t talked to none of those people, even had a nice exchange with those people, since I left.”
Though fans in Toronto roared with pleasure and glee the moment he ruptured his Achilles, he doesn’t view that behavior in the same light. On the contrary, it tickled him. Torontonians knew he was playing the best basketball of his life. “They was terrified that I was on the floor,” he says, suppressing a smile. “You could feel it the second I walked out there.”
Does this same largesse extend to Toronto’s über booster, Drake, who trash-talked the Warriors and practically ran the floor on every fast break, thus irking half a continent? It does, it does. “That’s my brother. I view him as, like, blood.” If you get upset about how Drake roots for his hometown team, he adds, “You need to reevaluate yourself.” Durant’s own clothing and jewelry, David Yurman chain, $3,500, David Yurman, 114 Prince Street, New York. . Hair, Eric Adams; grooming, Tasha Reiko Brown; manicure, Ashlie Johnson. Photo: Mario Sorrenti for WSJ. Magazine, Styling by Sydney Rose Thomas
No, what Durant doesn’t like, what unnerves him, is when raw hatred poses as fandom. “We talk about mental health a lot. We only talk about it when it comes to players. We need to talk about it when it comes to executives, media, fans.”
As with the ruptured Achilles, however, the bitter parting with Oklahoma City brought hidden boons. “It made me realize how big this whole shit is,” he says. The “shit,” he says, is “the machine,” a great big invisible generator of narratives, programmed by the powers that be to gin up controversy, conflict, whatever keeps people dialed in. He’s learned—he’s learning—to free himself from the machine, to separate the game he loves from the noise and nonsense surrounding it.
Though he can sound stressed when discussing this stuff, though he can look downhearted, beard askew, doleful eyes fixed on the ground, Durant wants people to know he’s happy. More, he wants them to please for the love of God stop asking if he’s happy.
Maybe it’s a function of his introversion. Maybe it’s his resting facial expression, which is that of a man who just found a parking ticket on his windshield. Whatever the reason, observers often think Durant is bummed, or numb, when in fact he’s just pleasantly idling in neutral. “People are always like, Are you happy? It’s like, Yo, what the f— does that mean right now?… That was the whole thing this year: Is KD happy where he is?”
Such a highly personal question, he complains. More, an unanswerable question. And whenever he tries to answer it, earnestly, honestly, no one’s satisfied, which makes them unhappy, which then makes him unhappy.
Indeed, right after he announced his deal with Brooklyn, a typical story dominated one or two news cycles. Warriors execs, behind the scenes, supposedly saying Durant wasn’t happy enough after winning two titles: Nothing’s good enough for this guy.
False, Durant says. “It’s very rare in our lives when we envision and picture something and it comes together the perfect way you envision it. [Winning a title] was the only time in my life that happened, and that summer was the most exhilarating time. Every day I woke up I just felt so good about myself, so good about life.… That was a defining moment in my life—not just my basketball life.”
This is the one thing that doesn’t change about Durant. He still tries earnestly, honestly to correct the record, give real answers, put the truth out there. He doesn’t measure his words, doesn’t care if he says it wrong or contradicts himself. (Case in point: He’s spoken forgivingly about Oklahoma City in the past. But he’s not feeling that right now, and he’s not the least bit concerned if the paradox throws you.)
What matters more than continuity, more than happiness, more than titles—more than anything—is the search. Durant is one of the few NBA players who speaks of the game as a vehicle for gaining wisdom.
The rapper Q-Tip recently sent Durant an old black-and-white clip of Bruce Lee, which Durant devoured. Lee put it so beautifully, telling an interviewer about the secret of martial arts. “All types of knowledge,” Lee says, “ultimately mean self-knowledge.” The more you know about martial arts, the more you know about yourself, and the more you can then express yourself with your body—especially in “combat.” On any given night he has things to express. Angry things, scary things, joyful things, about his story.
He grew up in the roughest parts of Prince George’s County, Maryland. No money, no father. Lost a cherished aunt and a coach at a tender age. Lost friends to gun violence. Survived a bare, lonely two-room apartment, just his mom and brother, and now inhabits this ridiculous American schloss. Every step of that remarkable journey has left a mark, reshaped his soul. He wants to tell you how, wants to tell the world, and he does so with his beautiful game, a sui generis hybrid of length and strength, violence and accuracy and grace.
Laurene Powell Jobs, who helped Durant establish a multimillion-dollar program in Prince George’s County to help college-bound kids ready themselves—scholastically, emotionally, financially—says Durant is “a deeply integrated individual,” which makes him rare among all people, let alone celebrities. Integrated people, she says, “keep all the knowledge of their experience and bring it to their current awareness.… They use it as a source of knowledge, of power, and want to effect change that’s informed by their experience.”
If basketball isn’t available, Durant finds expression through other means. Photography, music, art. He dabbles, or dives deep, depending. But he’s discovered a true passion for business. He seeks out founders, leaders, CEOs and applies what he learns from them to the empire he’s building with Kleiman. Under the rubric of 35 Ventures—headquartered in New York City, staff of 15—they manage Durant’s lucrative endorsement deals, oversee an equity partnership with luxury audio company Master & Dynamic and create an eclectic investment portfolio (technology, hospitality, media) tailored to their shared interests.
They also generate a lot of content. Just this year they produced a documentary about the San Quentin Warriors, a hoops team inside the maximum security prison; launched a six-episode series on ESPN called The Boardroom about the business of sports, along with related digital shorts; and began filming a scripted show called Swagger, loosely based on Durant’s days playing youth basketball, with Grazer as a co-producer.
Through the Kevin Durant Charity Foundation they also help groups that take innovative approaches to fighting homelessness and easing hunger, and they do dazzling refurbishments of basketball courts in low-income neighborhoods around the world.
Above all, Durant expresses himself through social media. Instagram is one of his main portals to the world. It’s an introvert’s utopia, he says, a place to engage with people from a safe distance. Never mind the grief it’s caused him in the past. (In recent years, at times using fake accounts, he’s clashed with online critics, including at least one who still had a curfew.) He checks his direct messages twice daily, and though they number in the hundreds, he methodically works his way through, chatting with all sorts of folks about all sorts of subjects. Recently he conducted a two-week-long dialogue with a total stranger, a young man who detailed his many struggles and mental woes, ad nauseam, all of which Durant found fascinating.
He’ll also talk shop with anyone. The other day a middle school student reached out. “She’s like, I started to play at the free throw line, but I’m not very comfortable there, so I don’t really know what to do when I get inside the zone. It was such a nice-ass question. She blew my mind.”
He often parachutes into young people’s comments, doles out praise, congratulates them on a great game, a big win, “just encouraging them, letting them know they’re nice, and keep going. That shit does a lot for me. That’s why I like the Gram. A lot of young grass-roots basketball players, I build relationships through Instagram, so when we see each other it’s love.”
He recalls having a drink with E-40, rapper, philosopher, who claims authorship of several everyday phrases, including “You feel me?” E-40 made a toast: I’m not above you, I’m not below you—I’m right beside you. “I’m like, That’s the approach I take with everybody!”
Maybe that utopian vision of the world will now come true. Maybe Durant’s unfiltered dialogue with humanity will reach new levels of intimacy and respect and mutual understanding. Just as the injury changed Durant, or accelerated changes already in process, maybe it will alter public perception. The knocks—that he was soft, that introvert was a fancy word for selfish—seemed to evaporate the moment he gave up his body for Golden State. Starting Game 5 with a strained calf, risking and then incurring catastrophic injury, seemed to instantly restore the hero status he enjoyed early in his career.
Or maybe the machine has other plans for his narrative.
It’s almost time for the afternoon session with Hancock. First, though, a quick interview with a film crew making a documentary about basketball in Prince George’s County. Time suddenly seems like the infinity pool. No edges, no horizon. Talking about the past, working on the future, hobbled in an uncertain present.
Durant says he’s decided to wear No. 7 in Brooklyn because it stands for completion in the Bible. (God rested on the seventh day after creating Heaven and Earth.) Clearly the completion of his career is on his mind. In which case, what next?
Kids, he says, maybe.
He throws out numbers. Maybe five. Maybe one.
First he needs to find a woman who can handle this crazy life.
He used to think that wasn’t such a tall order. But, as with so many things, his thinking on that has evolved.
“I thought this life was pretty simple,” he says. “But it’s not as simple as I thought it was.”
― Fuck the NRA (ulysses), Tuesday, 10 September 2019 18:49 (one week ago) link
― big city slam (Spottie), Tuesday, 10 September 2019 19:24 (one week ago) link
kd and kyrie on the same team, good times lol
― lag∞n, Tuesday, 10 September 2019 19:49 (one week ago) link
U want me to see you, I see u my son. Now go flourish with that clout u received— Kevin Durant (@KDTrey5) September 10, 2019
― lag∞n, Tuesday, 10 September 2019 19:52 (one week ago) link
these guys are walking contradictions but i kinda love it.
dont forget deandre jordan is on that team too lol
― big city slam (Spottie), Tuesday, 10 September 2019 19:54 (one week ago) link
jordan has had some episodes of flightiness but seems like a good guy to be around is well liked etc kyrie and kd are such grumpuses
― lag∞n, Tuesday, 10 September 2019 19:56 (one week ago) link
btw this chrome extension will get u into the wsj and many other sites https://github.com/iamadamdev/bypass-paywalls-chrome
― lag∞n, Tuesday, 10 September 2019 19:58 (one week ago) link
― big city slam (Spottie), Tuesday, 10 September 2019 20:15 (one week ago) link
― lag∞n, Tuesday, 10 September 2019 20:20 (one week ago) link
he is extremely silly
― call all destroyer, Tuesday, 10 September 2019 20:22 (one week ago) link
not even kobe wld wear a chain that said revenge
― lag∞n, Tuesday, 10 September 2019 20:49 (one week ago) link
mamba mentality tho
― big city slam (Spottie), Tuesday, 10 September 2019 21:01 (one week ago) link
at least he employed a symbol, tried to show some verve
― lag∞n, Tuesday, 10 September 2019 21:36 (one week ago) link
Kind of amazing how much his public rep has changed since that MVP press conference. Remembering that guy, it just seems like he's been horribly ill-equipped to handle being megafamous in a social media world, and it's really taken its toll on him. In retrospect Kyrie's always been a loon but Durant seems more fallen.
― Lavator Shemmelpennick, Wednesday, 11 September 2019 01:36 (one week ago) link
People really didn’t like that move to GS, and people still aren’t over it. 3 years of hearing the same ol thing has got to get old.
― big city slam (Spottie), Wednesday, 11 September 2019 01:59 (one week ago) link
True because he can't resist paying attention to all that noise. Which is unfortunate because plenty of fans totally got it -- who wouldn't want to trade the paranoid, antagonistic culture in OKC at the time for the sweetness of what was going on in GS? To say nothing of the chance to win there. To say nothing of living in the Bay Area as opposed to Oklahoma. At least I certainly felt that way at the time
― Lavator Shemmelpennick, Wednesday, 11 September 2019 02:15 (one week ago) link
it was a hoe ass move tbqh
― lag∞n, Wednesday, 11 September 2019 02:21 (one week ago) link
i think he was taken totally off guard by the reaction which he shdnt have been
― lag∞n, Wednesday, 11 September 2019 02:22 (one week ago) link
a lot of the discussion around his decisions has an underlying assumption that there is a decision out there that would make him happy. i don't think the dude is really wired to be happy.
― call all destroyer, Wednesday, 11 September 2019 02:26 (one week ago) link
sometime he shd just reflect on the fact that most people will never dunk in their entire lives
― lag∞n, Wednesday, 11 September 2019 02:29 (one week ago) link
he doesnt want us to worry about his happiness, he even said so. maybe playing iso ball in brooklyn will make him happy idk. if hanging with kyrie is all he wanted then thats cool, hang away.
― big city slam (Spottie), Wednesday, 11 September 2019 04:33 (one week ago) link
I think Durant perceived some sort of new era where winning a title is all that matters, because LeBron more or less skated on abandoning his team. But he didn’t process that LeBron didn’t abandon Cleveland for a team that won SEVENTY THREE GAMES
― Matt Armstrong, Wednesday, 11 September 2019 18:47 (one week ago) link
Nah, LeBron got just as much hate when he went to the Heat. The Decision + bringing Bosh with him more than made up for the Warriors dynasty fueling the animosity towards Durant. But LeBron had one season where it got to him and then learned to dgaf. Durant never figured it out and he's gonna be disappointed to find that whatever he's trying to move past, they have it in Brooklyn too. But he doesn't want us to care if he's happy so
― Lavator Shemmelpennick, Wednesday, 11 September 2019 20:03 (one week ago) link
LeBron didn’t abandon Cleveland for a team that won SEVENTY THREE GAMES
― Matt Armstrong, Wednesday, September 11, 2019 2:47 PM (two hours ago) bookmarkflaglink
yeah if kd had gone anywhere else not many ppl wldve cared
― lag∞n, Wednesday, 11 September 2019 20:50 (one week ago) link
if bron had just done a humble goodbye to cleveland letter instead of the decision he wldve got a lot less hassle too
― lag∞n, Wednesday, 11 September 2019 20:51 (one week ago) link
at least kd didn't curse us with the phrase 'taking talents to _____'
― mookieproof, Wednesday, 11 September 2019 20:56 (one week ago) link
hopefully he did remember to bring his talents with him tho
― lag∞n, Wednesday, 11 September 2019 20:59 (one week ago) link
LeBron also felt like the undisputed leader of the Heat even w/Wade there, Bosh was just a chill guy, it was a good vibe. If there was any drama, it was minor. I wouldn't be surprised if that four-year period was LeBron's happiest run in the NBA.
Durant moved to GS and it was just weird, not just the mercenary "hey can i get a ring too?" feel but the personality fit. there was already a clear all-time star player plus huge personalities and already three future HOFers, there was no room for him to step up and feel comfortable in that locker room. obv in the end he felt like it was a thankless endeavor, despite him being a top 3 NBA player he's got Dray sonning him in front of the world on the sideline and other shit like that i'm sure behind the scenes.
― omar little, Wednesday, 11 September 2019 21:00 (one week ago) link
dray was not having kds bs lol
― lag∞n, Wednesday, 11 September 2019 21:03 (one week ago) link
draymond is the best. ripped the bandaid off early in the season. weirdest part of the whole thing was when KD went into weird passive aggressive im not gonna shoot the ball mode for a few weeks and the team went on a run. i think he and the team were all cool but just in different phases of their lives.
― big city slam (Spottie), Wednesday, 11 September 2019 21:59 (one week ago) link