Hey Jackass: There's Nothing Wrong with the NBA

Typical NBA Critic

Well, that's not quite true. I'd be lying if I claimed that the NBA isn't as flawed as any other corporate monstrosity: from terrible (and, at times, corrupt) officiating to an untenable financial system, David Stern certainly has his hands full trying to remedy the myriad number of issues facing the league. And unlike his counterparts, Roger Goodell and Bud Selig, Stern doesn't possess the luxury of being able to count upon the largesse of a traditionally supportive and forgiving public to lessen the impact of negative publicity; indeed, the NBA's margin of error is undeniably lower than that of the NFL or MLB, which became quite evident during the aftermath of the Nuggets-Knicks "brawl" in December of 2006. While such a scuffle in baseball or football would have been, at worst, regarded as laughable, the media treated the "fight" as if the league had been dealt an indelible blow by Carmelo Anthony's slap-and-run.

This double-standard becomes especially evident when scrutinizing the host of false assertions and accusations that are frequently hurled at the league by angry, bitter "fans," whose rage is undoubtely fueled by the absence of a Great White Hope in basketball to rally around. Because I've grown weary of these baseless criticisms, and (more importantly) because I have nothing better to do, I've taken it upon myself to debunk and dismiss the most prominent allegations.

"NBA Players Can't/Don't Play Defense!"

Bullshit. Anyone who's watched even a minute of professional basketball over the last fifteen years can attest to the fact that there've been moments when the game has been stifled by too much defense. If someone ever repeats this claim to you, smack them upside the head, spit in their eye, and kick them in the shins. After they've recovered from the shock of being assaulted, direct them to the "League Index" on Basketball-Reference.com, and specifically the 1990 Season Summary, where you'll force them at gunpoint to observe the league-wide offensive statistics of said season:

107 ppg (!), 47.6 FG%, 98.3 Pace Factor (a measure of a "team's possessions per 48 minutes")

These numbers were posted in the midst of the NBA's "Golden Age," when (supposedly) both players and teams possessed the proper basketball "fundamentals" (more on this later) and executed at a level on both sides of the floor that had rarely been seen in league history. And yet, arguably the best defensive team of this specific year and era (the Pistons) gave up 98 points-per-game (first in the league). To give our imaginary NBA critic some perspective, force him or her to click back to the "League Index" page and select the 2004 Season Summary (the last season before hand-checking was outlawed), where (if they're not crippled by fear) they'll undoubtedly become aware of a noticeable dip in offensive numbers in the fourteen-year interval:

93.4 ppg, 43.9 FG%, 90.1 Pace Factor

While some would claim that the precipitous decline of scoring averages and field-goal percentages was the result of a parallel decline in offensive talent, the more plausible explanation is that a league-wide embrace of the defensive philosophy pioneered by the Pistons of the late 80's and early 90's led to a slowing down of the game and a subsequent need for defensive specialists who may not have been as successful if they had played in the higher-paced 80's and early 90's (I'm looking at you, Eric Snow). The numbers (as well as the tape) simply do not support the assertion that there was a greater emphasis on defense before the late 1990's and 2000's; in fact, the opposite is true. Defenses were so good, and so effective, that fans fled in droves, all the while complaining about the lack of defensive effort. Of course.

"NBA Players Lack Fundamentals!"

What the hell does this even mean? Are we talking about dribbling? Passing? Shooting? Rebounding? Since no one has ever taken the time to explain this criticism to me, I'll just assume that those who make it are more concerned with skin pigmentation than anything else (yeah, I said it).

"The League is Fixed!"

David Aldridge debunked this pretty conclusively last season, but since I'm one who loves to belabor the point, I'll reiterate how truly stupid this argument is:

If the NBA was fixed, the Spurs and Pistons wouldn't have won five combined titles in a nine-year span. If the NBA was fixed, the Suns, Kings, and Mavericks (arguably the most entertaining teams of the 2000s) would've made more than one combined Finals appearance between the three of them. If the NBA was fixed, the Pacers wouldn't have beat the Knicks in the Eastern Conference Finals in 2000 and prevented a Knicks-Lakers Finals matchup. If the NBA was fixed, the Nets wouldn't have beaten the Celtics in the ECF in 2002 and prevented a Celtics-Lakers Finals matchup. If the NBA was fixed, the Magic wouldn't have beaten the Cavs in last year's postseason and prevented a LeBron James-Kobe Bryant Finals matchup.

And so on and so forth.

"Only the Best Team with the Best Record Wins the Championship!"
                                            and
"The Regular Season is Meaningless!"

These two criticisms are, paradoxically, tied together. When you hear one, the other is not far behind, and despite all the evidence you may use to disprove these inherently contradictory suppositions the critics in question will fail to see that these claims cancel each other out. If the best team with the best record wins the title every year (which is patently false, but I digress), then the regular season must mean something because it is the barometer by which a team proves its superiority; likewise, if the regular season is meaningless and has no bearing on the playoffs, then the best team with the best record should not, theoretically, win the title every year.

What's especially frustrating about the latter argument is that it's deemed a positive when applied to MLB and the NFL (though doubts have arisen over the competitiveness of the latter in light of last season). If a team with a middling record gets hot and goes on a deep playoff run in either of those leagues, it's a testament to parity and the inherent drama of the postseason; if it happens in the NBA (as was the case with the Celtics this past year), then it's proof of the pointlessness of the regular season and a slap in the face of the teams that finished with better records.

Speaking of parity . . .

"There's No Parity in the NBA!"

This argument is hard to refute considering the fact that the Celtics and Lakers have won thirty-three titles in sixty-four years, or that the Spurs and Lakers have combined to win nine out of the last twelve championships (and, except for 2006, have appeared in every Finals since Jordan retired). If there was a single picture which could aptly sum up the history of the league, this would be it. Arguably more than any other sport, the NBA is marked by dynasties, which for some is an indication of inherent uncompetitiveness.

Yet at the same time, there's evidence that the league is far more competitive than its detractors give it credit for. Indeed, the conference ironically criticized for being "weak" during the 2000s (i.e. the East) was a paragon of parity; after all, seven teams represented the East in the Finals during those ten years, with only the Nets and the Pistons reaching that round more than once. And despite the stranglehold the Lakers and Spurs have had on the West, the Mavericks, Suns, Kings, Jazz, and Blazers were at least able to offer some resistance and make the proceeding seem less perfunctory.

"NBA Players Are Thugz! LOL!"

Yeah, and the other sports leagues are populated by saints.

This accusation, like the one concerning "fundamentals," probably has more to do with skin pigmentation than anything else.

Celtics vs. Lakers, Part XII or: How We Got Here and Where We're Going

Consider this: not too long ago (three years, to be exact), both of this year's finalists appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be dead in the water. The Celtics had come off a disastrous 2007 campaign in which it had become more than apparent that the young "core" (Gerald Green, anyone?) surrounding Paul Pierce was incapable of propelling the franchise into contention; adding insult to injury, any hope of improvement through the draft vanished with the inopportune bouncing of lottery balls. A draft-day deal for Ray Allen, while undoubtedly an upgrade to the roster and an obvious (and much needed) attempt to placate Pierce, was viewed by some as a foolhardy move which further underscored Danny Ainge's general incompetence and lack of vision.

The Lakers, despite having made the postseason for two consecutive years, were in a similiar dilemma; first-round exits at the hands of the Suns in the two postseasons prior, coupled with the apparent inability of Mitch Kupchak to surround Kobe Bryant with a capable supporting cast, had driven said star to the breaking point. Soon after exiting the playoffs, Bryant (quite) publicly expressed both his displeasure with the Lakers' front office and his teammates, as well as his desire to be dealt to a contender. That summer was thus marked by unbridled speculation regarding Bryant's future, and by any measure the Lakers appeared to be on the brink of starting a long and painful rebuilding process which would mark the end of an era.

Of course, the Kevin Garnett trade of that summer and the Pau Gasol deal in the winter of the following season irrevocably shifted the fortunes of both franchises. Since the tumultuous events of 2007, the Lakers have made three straight Finals appearances, and the Celtics have advanced to that round twice in the same time period; one could even go so far as to argue that the latter was a knee injury away from achieving the same feat as the former. Beyond returning the teams in question to contention and revitalizing the careers of some of the game's most burdened and unlucky stars, the roster overhauls of these two teams and the subsequent success each franchise has enjoyed has had unforseen and historic consequences which have, in a way, upset the NBA narrative of the past decade.

Indeed, this era (or mini-era, if you will) will be remembered not only as a time in which the league's flagship teams returned from the dead to contend for the throne, but also as a unique period in which the order of the previous decade (i.e. the San Antonio-Detroit-Shaq balance of power) was overthrown and the ascendancy of the up-and-coming powers (i.e. Cleveland, Orlando, OKC, etc.) was denied. Neither marked by the stodgy orthodoxy of the old hierarchy nor the friendly exuberance of the new generation, these Celtics and Lakers squads have adhered to a third-way philosophy of basketball which entails a reliance upon players both old and young, a blend of stylized (yet efficient) offense and stifling defense, and a sublimation of individual superstar egos into a greater whole. While these axioms are by no means radical or revolutionary, their successful adoption by L.A. and Boston has created a rift in the NBA order and kickstarted a transitional-period in which the machine-like teams of yore are put out to pasture and the superstar-led outfits of the future are forced to wait their turn to dominate.

And to think that, not so long ago, Kobe wanted to be traded to Chicago to play with Luol Deng and the Celtics were banking on Greg Oden to save the franchise . . .

True Grit or: Your Home Court Means Nothing

Ever since their Game 4 loss to Oklahoma City in the First Round, the Lakers have been on a tear. While their margins of victory over the Thunder and the Jazz have been relatively unimpressive (except for their Game 5 blowout of OKC), the toughness they've exhibited since that aforementioned humiliating defeat at the hands of Kevin Durant and company has quieted some of the talk regarding their focus and chemistry issues. The narrow victory they eked out against the Jazz tonight in Salt Lake City, despite the brillant play of Deron Williams and Kyle Korver and the return of Andrei Kirilenko, is further confirmation of the fact that the Lakers, no matter how unlikable and passionless they may some times appear to be, are champions in the truest sense of the word. They could have at any point given up, and taken comfort in the fact that they would have retained home-court advantage regardless of the outcome; instead, they refused to wither in a physical game in front of a hostile crowd, and stole a one-point victory against a team with its back against the wall.

Despite his hesitancy to pass in the first quarter, Kobe played a magnificent game (35 points on 13-24 shooting, 7 assists, and several cluch plays in the final minutes of the fourth), as did Ron Artest (!) and Derek Fisher (!), both of whom provided L.A. a spark with their outside shooting (!!!). While they shouldn't expect the latter two to play as well as they did going forward (indeed, Fisher's performance was akin to Lazarus rising from the dead), the Lakers have to be encouraged that they were able to pull out a road win, despite the apparent inability of their bench players to play well anymore (really, 8-24 from the field, guys?). A sweep is, at this point, not out of the question considering the disheartening way in which the Jazz lost (poor, poor Wes Matthews), though one shouldn't be surprised if the Lakers are unable to stifle the desire to finish up the series at home.

Also: the less that's said about the Orlando-Atlanta series, the better. However, I find it remarkable that the lower seeds in each conference are having such a hard time defending their home court. Atlanta and Boston were hammered by their visiting opponents, and the Jazz and Spurs lost tight, physical games in front of crowds who traditionally have swung more than a few games in their favor. Strange times, folks.