Why . . . Grant Hill is a Future Hall of Famer

In a preview piece written before the start of the 2001 season, Sports Illustrated's Ian Thomsen wrote of the Orlando Magic: "Though the Magic (are) by no means a title contender this year, (they) will be among the elite teams in the Eastern Conference. With nine first-round picks over the next five years, and with the city of Orlando an ever-attractive destination for free agents, the Magic (are) in excellent shape to gradually add the muscle needed to go all the way." While the rest of SI's staff begged to differ (they picked Orlando to finish first in the East and ultimately lose to the Blazers in the Finals), there was no debate that the Magic's addition of the newly-formed super-duo of Grant Hill (coming off a season in which he'd averaged 25-6-5 and dragged a sub-standard team to a playoff appearance) and a very-young Tracy McGrady would elevate the franchise to new heights in the succeeding years.

Beyond the misfortunes which ultimately undermined those dreams, and beyond the obvious and, quite frankly, spooky parallels between the Magic's situation in the summer of 2000 and the Heat's in 2010 (right down to the addition of Mike Miller and the vociferous criticisms launched against a superstar small-forward for leaving an economically-depressed Midwestern city for the Sunshine State), perhaps the most under-appreciated aspect of the failures of the Magic to capitalize on their luck and guile was the damage inflicted upon the public and media perceptions of Grant Hill's career. Leading into the 2001 season, Hill was widely-considered to be one of the best all-around players in the game, whose stellar play had (unfortunately, and seemingly inevitably) inspired writers and fans to draw comparisons to that of Michael Jordan; following the conclusion of the 2004 season, Hill had, due to an assortment of injuries, been able to participate in only 47 out of a possible 328 games since joining Orlando. Coupled with the meteoric rise of Tracy McGrady, Hill was all-but forgotten and his legacy seemed to be forever tarnished by unfulfilled expectations.

And unjustly so, I might add. While there are undoubtedly many who would balk at the suggestion that his career is Hall-of-Fame worthy, I have to remind my imaginary skeptics that Hill's career before joining the Magic ten years ago was in-and-of itself enough to garner that distinction. In his first six years, Hill averaged 21.5 ppg, 7.9 rpg, and 6.3 apg on 47% shooting, numbers which compare favorably to those posted by LeBron James (27.8 ppg (though he averaged four more shots a game than Hill), 7 rpg,  and 7 apg on 47% shooting) and Scottie Pippen (16.9 ppg, 6.8 rpg, and 5.2 apg on 49% shooting) in the first six seasons of their respective careers. He was also selected  to five All-NBA teams (1x First Team, 4x Second Team) and five All-Star games, and finished third in MVP voting in 1997 after averaging 21 ppg, 9 rpg, and 7 apg on 49% shooting and leading the Pistons to fifty-four victories (their best win total since 1990).

Of course, one cannot simply dismiss the impact Hill's injuries had on his career; they undoubtedly robbed him of his prime years, and submarined any chance the Magic had at contending for a title in the first half of the 2000's. However, the true extent of the damage to his abilities has been somewhat overstated over the last few years; after all, despite being beleaguered by health issues in five out of six seasons in the 2001-2006 stretch, Hill was able to return briefly to form in 2005 (averaging 19 ppg on 50% shooting and making the All-Star team), and has from 2007-2010 (a period in which he has only missed twenty-seven games) reinvented himself into an extremely effective role player on playoff teams in both Orlando and Phoenix. Indeed, this past post-season saw Hill assume the duties of a defensive ace for the Suns in their unexpected run to the Conference Finals, and come up with plays like this (at the age of thirty-seven, no less):



While he is obviously no longer the player he was, his ability to remain effective despite his history of injuries and his age is a testament to his overall talents. Tempting as it is to wonder what could or should have been, Grant Hill's legacy as it stands now is one which is both inspiring and worthy of the highest recognition; one hopes that writers, fans, and media personalities will remember this when he becomes eligible for the Hall of Fame.

Where Exorcising Your Demons Happens

Back in those dismal days of the 2006-2007 season, when my beloved Celtics were irrelevant and seemingly without direction, I adopted the Phoenix Suns as a sort of "second favorite" in an attempt to remind myself that the hopelessness of my true favorite's situation was not shared by every team in the league. With the return of Amare Stoudemire from injury, they appeared to be a squad which, if all the right pieces fell into place, could dethrone the Spurs and Mavs in the West, and prove once and for all that a fast-paced brand of basketball could lead a team to a title. Though they got off to a rocky start, they finished with a 61-21 record (second-best in the league to Dallas), and at one point were winners of 33 out of 35 games (with individual winning streaks of 15 and 17 games constituting the bulk of this run); their dispatching of the Lakers in the First Round set them up with a rematch with their rivals, the Spurs, who had defeated the Suns in the Conference Finals two seasons prior. If the Suns were going to win a championship that season, the seemingly most appropriate way in which they could do so would be to vanquish a team whose style of play was completely antithetical to that of "Seven Seconds or Less," and whose philosophy was of an era in which a run-and-gun mentality had been made impossible to act upon.

What followed has been well-documented and analyzed endlessly over the last three years. The Steve Nash nose injury in Game 1 and the Robert Horry-incident in Game 4 gave the Spurs enough of an advantage to finish off Phoenix, and subsequently proceed to win their third championship of the decade; the Suns bounced back with a successful regular season in 2008, though the addition of Shaq and the heartbreaking Game 1 loss to San Antonio in that season's First Round seemingly extinguished the vitality which had been such a large feature of the team in the seasons which that followed Nash's return to the desert in the summer of 2004. Although the Celtics had, by that point, added KG and Ray Allen and were making a run at a title, I still rooted for Phoenix; their trials and tribulations were the stuff of (basketball) tragedy, and were emblamatic of the seemingly inevitable (and, in my eyes, unfortunate) triumph of the "Right Way" philosophy over the more revolutionary (and fun) brand of basketball pushed by the Suns and their imitators.

With the completion of their sweep of the Spurs tonight, the Suns have washed away much of the pain of the last few years, and have subsequently transformed themselves from a historical perspective. Even if they lose to the Lakers in the next round, their decisive defeat of their arch-rivals will forever stand as proof that an up-tempo, fast-breaking team is capable of getting down and dirty, and hanging tough with a team of a supposedly more physical disposition. Two or three years ago Steve Nash's eye injury, or George Hill's four-point play, would have been enough to derail Phoenix; but this specific team is a different animal from past versions of the Suns, and has proven that it can withstand almost anything. Though the benefits of the additions of Grant Hill, Jared Dudley, Goran Dragic, Channing Frye, Robin Lopez, and Louis Admundson may not have been initially apparent, what these players collectively brought to the table may have been what Steve Nash (and, to a lesser extent, Amare Stoudemire) needed all along: teammates who were willing to go to war, and who would be adamant in their refusal to be intimidated by anyone, regardless of history and popular opinion.