PlanetFrnd
Head Coach
Couple good blurbs from the recent mailbag. I might hate the SportsGuy but he writes the NBA very well. Love the part in the LBJ section in bold. STFU all you handshake-mongering p*ssies.
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/print?id=4226542&type=story
http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/print?id=4226542&type=story
Q: I'm still mad. During that Orlando series, I had less help than Tony Montana in the last scene of "Scarface." The bright side is the series didn't end with me getting shot 75 times and falling headfirst into a pool. Can you give me some silver linings to make me feel better? You know, before I do something drastic like killing Sasha and Z to get them off our cap?
-- LeBron J., Cleveland
SG: Sure. I came up with five.
- You joined Jordan in the 50 Club for post-merger guys who averaged 50-plus combined points, rebounds and assists in the same postseason (minimum: 13 games played). So that's pretty cool. (Putting on my Robin Williams beard.) It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault. It's not your fault.
- Your game-winning 3-pointer in Game 2 briefly ranked among the 12 greatest playoff shots before quickly being rendered semi-irrelevant and jumping into a different group: the Roy McAvoy hall of fame for "meaningless sporting events that became immortal anyway" group, as described in my May 22 mailbag. Just for the hell of it, one man's vote for the 10 greatest playoff shots ever, in no particular order: Jordan's Finals-winner in 1998; Magic's baby sky hook, Game 4, '87 Finals; Big Shot Rob's Game 4 winner versus '02 Sacramento; Big Shot Rob's Game 5-saving 3-pointer versus '05 Pistons; Sam Jones' Game 4 winner in the '69 Finals; Ralph Sampson's series-winner versus '86 Lakers; John Havlicek's Game 5-saving banker in double-OT versus '76 Suns; Derek Fisher's Game 5 winner versus '04 Spurs; Dirk Nowitzki's series-saving 3-point play, Game 7 versus '06 Spurs; Kareem's Game 6-winner versus '74 Celtics. Picks hinged on the urgency of the moment; degree of difficulty; iconicness of the replay; and impact on the player's team winning the Finals, making the Finals or extending the Finals.
(A few more while we're here. Most underrated: Bobby Dandridge's series-winner with three Spurs on him in the '79 Eastern finals. Most overrated: MJ's famous shot to beat the '89 Cavs; ultimately, it meant nothing. Most secretly underrated: MJ's game-winner in Game 1 of the '97 Finals. Most overrated AND underrated: Gar Heard's turnaround to send Game 6 of the '76 Finals into a third overtime. And the one I refuse to acknowledge: Larry Johnson's four-point play against the '99 Pacers, the worst continuation call in NBA history. In fact, you could foul L.J. right now and Jess Kersey would call it a continuation for that 3-pointer from 10 years ago. The worst. Don't be surprised if we find out some day that the NBA was run by Vince McMahon from 1998-2002.)
- Your performance in a do-or-die Game 5 -- after four grueling games in a row, when your coaching staff basically gave up in the second half and said, "Here's the ball, do something" -- was one of the single greatest performances I have ever seen. I caught your final box score in a newspaper and it looked like a lottery result or a sequence of numbers that would terrify Hurley on "Lost": 46 11 24 15 19 3 14 12 3 37. Egads. Just an incredible display of will, and maybe even something that inspired Kobe's equally incredible performance the following night (the second-best game of Kobe's career behind this one, at least in my opinion).
- Your game-tying free throws with 0.5 seconds remaining in Game 4, on the road in Orlando, cracked the short list of the most pressure-filled free throws ever made. Here are my top six in reverse order:
6. Game 2, 1986 first round. Everyone remembers Jordan's 63-point game. Do you remember him getting fouled at the buzzer and sinking two free throws to send it into OT?
5. Game 6, 1988 Finals. Down one with 12 seconds left, a 42-year-old Kareem calmly sinks both free throws to (eventually) extend the series. Bonus points here because he shaved his head that year and looked like an alien.
4. Game 5, 2006 Finals. It has been forgotten because Bennett Salvatore pulled a John Wilkes Booth on the Mavericks with the call that made it happen, but Dwyane Wade did sink game-tying and game-winning free throws with 1.9 left in overtime of a must-win game. Gotta hand it to him.
3. 1987 All-Star Game. Rolando Blackman gets fouled at the buzzer of the best All-Star Game ever played, goes to the line by himself -- with every great player watching, and Isiah even trash-talking him beforehand -- and drains both freebies to send the game into overtime. I know it sounds crazy, but this was frighteningly tense at the time. I swear. No, really. I'm not pulling your leg. I wouldn't do that. CAN YOU JUST BELIEVE ME? Thanks.
2. Game 4, 2009 Eastern finals. Different from the others because it's the only time in NBA history -- at least that I can remember -- when a player drained two do-or-die freebies as the player's entire city braced itself for a miss that never came. That moment was bigger than even LeBron. And he nailed it. Phenomenal.
1. 1972 Olympics, gold-medal game. Poor Doug Collins gets absolutely murdered on a fast-break layup -- seriously, it's like a flagrant 9 -- needs two minutes to untangle his body, then unfathomably drains the (apparent) game-tying and game-winning free throws with two seconds remaining against the Russians during the height of the Cold War. Only one way to top that one: a must-win Finals game in which a star drains the winning free throws with a broken leg or a broken arm or something. That's it.
- When you caused a controversy by storming off the court after Game 6 and refusing to attend your press conference, you did something even better: You brought us back to the days when "rivals" didn't hug each other like Red and Andy after every game, when NBA stars actually took losing personally and treated their peers like enemies instead of friends. I loved it. That was an old-school move. And as reader Brian Naftaly points out, you accomplished something even better: You made your teammates cover you in the postgame press conference, marking the first time all series they did something or helped you in any way. That was genius. Hold your head up high, LeBron James. You could not have done more with the possible exception of coaching the team ? and really, that might not have been a bad idea.
(Now, please spend the summer working on a low-post game and come back with at least two moves. If you care about cracking the top six of all time -- and I think you do -- then you should have a reliable jump hook, a drop step and an MJ-like fallaway by November. Period.)
Q: Can you please talk me off the ledge?
-- Every Cleveland fan
SG: Sure. You came to the right place. I am an experienced sports loser who had to go through sports rehab twice (getting healed by Super Bowl XXXVI and the 2004 baseball playoffs) before realizing you need a substantial shift in karma before a fan base believes in its "cursed" team or its "cursed" city; then and only then will good things happen. (FYI: This is the theme of my Red Sox book.) But you need some sort of catalyst. For Red Sox fans, it was the Dave Roberts steal. That's when we gave in. There's a grainy, "Blair Witch"-style clip of the steal on YouTube that I love and can't stop watching. It's just perfect. No sound, nothing happening; just a shaky shot from some fan in the bleachers. In the blink of an eye, suddenly Roberts is streaking across the screen and barely beating the throw. The camera starts shaking. Everyone celebrates. The franchise will never be the same; we just don't know it yet. And that's one of the great things about sports: Everything can change in five seconds, three seconds, even one second. You just don't know.
I don't believe in curses or jinxes, but I do believe that a franchise (or even a city of franchises) can pass a point with its fans at which they expect bad things to happen -- always, without fail -- and the players almost get contaminated by that negative energy. Sadly, there's no way to stop it; no pill to take, no exorcism to be had. It has to happen organically. For Red Sox fans, it was the Roberts steal. For Cleveland fans, Cubs fans and Bills fans, it will be something else. But it WILL be something else. It's just the law of averages. There is no infinity button for failing in sports. At some point, things turn. They always do.
Q: What should I have done differently?
-- Mike Brown, Cleveland
SG: You mean, other than come up with offensive plays or a playbook? I will never understand two things. First, why you didn't mix things up at all : throw a zone at Orlando, try a zone press (which worked really well in the regular season), go super-small when Howard was on the bench and play LeBron at center; something, anything. You just let the Magic do their thing and made no real attempt to throw them off. Perplexing. And second, why did you insist on doubling Howard and leaving their shooters open? One of the reasons I picked you to kill Orlando in my now-infamous chat was because I thought you'd use 24 (and maybe even 30) fouls on Howard, single-team him, make him score 40 points a game to beat you and stay home on their shooters. You did the opposite. I will never in a million years figure out why. It was like watching someone hitting on various female celebrities at a Hollywood party by saying, "Hi, I'm a member of the paparazzi, I have no money, and I have VD" and going down in flames over and over again but feeling like the 23rd time would be the charm. Again, perplexing.
The one recurring theme in this playoffs: coaches' unwillingness to steer the ship away from the iceberg even as the "DANGER! DANGER!" sign was going off. We just covered Mike Brown. Doc Rivers played the same eight guys the exact same way in the exact same style for seven straight Orlando games; never changed a thing, never threw a curveball, never extended his bench, never did anything ? and by Game 7, Orlando had the Celtics mastered. Rick Adelman played the Lakers exactly the same pre-Yao and post-Yao. Nate McMillan refused to go small against Houston or turn the tempo up and got smoked. Chicago would have beaten Boston had Vinny Del Negro gone small the whole time instead of out of desperation. And George Karl barely moved during Denver's five-quarter implosion to end the Lakers series; in fact, I think he's still standing there with his hands in his pockets looking like he just caught a whiff of a scorekeeper's fart.
One thing we did learn (something I demand gets added to the rule book this summer): After the Cavs' debacle against the Magic, Israeli reader Amos suggested that "No team under 70 wins should be able to win the MVP Award, the Coach of the Year Award and the Executive of the Year Award. Unless you had THAT phenomenal of a season, then it's either your star, or your coach, or your management that brought you there." Fantastic point. We should have made this change when Steve Nash AND Bryan Colangelo won in 2005.
Q: What should I have done differently?
-- D. Ferry, Cleveland
SG: You mean other than trading Wally Szczerbiak's expiring contract in February when 20 teams were dying to save money and you had a chance to turn a zero into a crunch-time guy? Besides that?
You looked around at the playoff landscape, shrugged your shoulders and said, "Yeah, we're good," even though you didn't have a backup center or a true perimeter player with size other than LeBron. If you turned Wally into Antawn Jamison and Brendan Haywood, that could have worked. If you turned Wally, J.J. Hickson and a future No. 1 into Marcus Camby and an expiring deal, that could have worked. If you turned Wally into Richard Jefferson (whom the Bucks were trying to give away), that would have worked. If you turned Wally and Pavlovic into Shaq and Matt Barnes when Phoenix was desperately trying to shave money, that REALLY would have worked. By doing nothing, you basically said, "We can win with what we have." And you didn't. Note to Cavs fans: If you're looking for a place to direct your anger and dismay, start here. Your front office choked. Not only could Shaq have defended Dwight Howard without help, he could have out-Tweeted him after every game. You were robbed.
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