Editor’s Note: What follows is Satire’s latest Back and Forth piece, on the current state of the NBA.  In it, regular contributor Todd Lazarski and myself spend a little over 5,000 words discoursing on all things NBA, be it the pro game’s domination of college basketball, scumbags like John Calipari, the Tim Duncan Fallacy, the Danny Ferry Corollary, our favorite young players this year, and how we each think things will go by this season’s end.  Yes, I said 5,000 words.  This is a doozy.  Hope you enjoy it.

Todd:

‘Football season is over.’

So began my hero’s suicide note. And so begins the annual winter of discontent for NFL junkies the world over, when February slush and gray combine with suddenly lackluster sports pages in a post-Super Bowl haze of ennui and indifference toward everything the horizon holds. Last year found me entered in an Oscar pool – like a gambler reduced to pulling slots after the horses have stopped running. But what Hunter Thompson must have forgotten – and if you were flipping channels on a certain late winter Sunday night and came across the Pro Bowl, it was easy to fear the coming bleakness – was the glorious brightening on the pinnacle of the hardwood season.

And, no, I’m not talking about March Madness. Sure, I love a too-long shot clock, overuse of zone defense, endless perimeter passing, clanging jump shots, one-year-cuz-I-guess-I-have-to wonders like John Wall, and a general dearth of fundamentals as much as the next hoops fan. But discussing the current state of the NBA would have kept the good Doctor and I up late, for one more drink, and then another.

Where would the conversation have ambled? This year we could have covered the marked parity of the NBA – yes, Parity, that onetime shining paradigm of NFL supremeness. There are plenty of duds, of course, but take a look at teams like Charlotte, Memphis, or OKC, teams coalescing, gelling, scrapping, thriving. Hell, even the Knicks are occasionally watchable.

We could have also broached the impossibly deep pantheon of NBA superstars. Do you realize there are probably 12 active players with legitimate cases, or soon to be legitimate cases, for top 50 all-time status? Kidd, Nash, Lebron, Kobe, Wade, Iverson, Garnett, Duncan, and Dirk, with Durant, Paul and Howard right around the corner. The golden emblems of my childhood NBA – Jordan, Bird, Magic – have nothing other than antiquity on today’s batch of pro ballers.

But what always baffles me, what maybe Hunter could have scalpeled somehow, is why I must continually frame these arguments as a kind of NBA apologist. Last month I watched Utah beat Cleveland, by 1, on a buzzer-beating 3 by Sundiata Gaines, a rookie on a 10-day contract attempting the first trey of his pro career. Simply put, ridiculous. This was after Lebron scored 20 in the 4^th quarter, and after Kyle Korver hit a baseline jumper from behind the backboard with 6 seconds left to cut the lead… And these things happen in the league every night (I’m sure Kobe is winning a game in the 4^th even as I write this).

How is everyone not more turned on? Is watching Duke play North Carolina again really better basketball? Why? Because Dickie V. is loud?

It’s impossible to imagine a bad NFL season. But living in the February moment is getting easier when it’s so hard to picture a better state of the NBA. Hunter, you woulda loved it.

JP:

There is no good explanation for the NBA’s cast-off status in the greater sporting culture. It’s some mixture of willful ignorance, stubbornness, and arrogance in this belief in the “purity” of the college game. There’s also probably a bit of racism and jealousy in there, too, but I’m not sure our profiles are great enough to talk about that. Perhaps Hunter could get away with calling the American public a bunch of arrogant, racist cowards, but we’re not quite there yet, Todd. R.I.P., Good Doctor.

Take, for instance, my dude Kevin Durant, the starting small forward for the Oklahoma City Thunder. He has scored over 25 points in 28 straight games. That might not sound like much to someone with his head in the sand concerning the NBA, but the feat has only been accomplished three times in the past 30 years. Michael Jordan did it twice early in his career, and Allen Iverson did it during his MVP season in 2001. That’s the list. Amazing. And yet nobody seems to care. This man – this child, really – is accomplishing something right this very second in his sport that has only been done in the modern era by the greatest player of all-time and one of the greatest scorers of all-time, and no one seems to notice.

In addition to Durant, Lebron James continues to grow as a player and leader, Dwyane Wade craps greatness, and Kobe Bryant is riding a rocket to the stars that should one day end with Mamba being featured in his own constellation. During this just-past NFL season, a lot of people loudly sweated the surprising New Orleans Saints and not nearly enough did the surprising Cincinnati Bengals, but NOBODY is talking about the NBA’s surprising Atlanta Hawks, fourth in their conference and (prior to their current two-game skid) rising fast on the shoulders of a solid and exciting young rotation.

The average American sports fan, I would bet, couldn’t name three starters on this Hawks team. Hell, not one (Joe Johnson, Josh Smith, Al Horford, Marvin Williams, and Mike Bibby, for the record). Similarly, your average Administrative Assistant with cable can discourse amiably on the problems with the Bears’ Cover 2 around the water cooler, but that same person might not even know what sport the Atlanta Hawks play.

So you know what? Fuck ‘em.

Every time my love of the NBA comes up in conversation, unless I’m around another NBA fan I get dirty looks and guffaws, smug head-shaking and cries of blasphemy. Earlier this year, I thought a guy was going to punch me when I insisted that the pro game was vastly superior to the NCAA. And he used to work for the Milwaukee Bucks!

I have watched all or part of exactly three NCAA games this season that did not include the Marquette Golden Eagles: Georgetown/Villanova, Georgetown/Duke, and one with Kentucky. Why? Because the NBA is a better game, in almost every aspect.

It’s the truth. If you don’t care to see it, or you wish to remain blind, that’s your decision. To quote Jules Winfield, you go walk with the Shepherd. My eyes are wide open.

Todd:

Something is seriously amiss here: we’re in almost total agreement. Other than your blabbering man-love for Kevin Durant, which sometimes makes me uncomfortable in person, I’d say you hit the nail on the head. Or like Jose Calderon did free throws last year, when he went three quarters of the season without a miss and finished with 87 in a row (I hit 17 in a row last summer at my local public courts, for comparison, and I’m really good). But that’s just another of the stock argument’s lofted against the NBA – that it’s a league of thug dunkers that don’t try and don’t shoot well.

Hhm. In the NCAA finals 2 years ago, a supremely talented and acrobatic Memphis team blew a comfortable lead on missed free throws before eventually choking away the game and the season. To be fair, Memphis shouldn’t have even been there - players were getting paid, not going to class, and Derrick Rose didn’t even take the SAT to get into school. Not that it’s the kids’ fault, these 18-year-olds that bring millions into Universities who then put money in the pockets of world-class scumbags like then-Memphis coach John Calipari. It’s no sweat off Calipari’s nuts - shit, he did the same thing at UMASS (sanctions for payment of players), then Memphis (yes, that runner-up ‘07-’08 season, where they set the record for most NCAA wins, has been completely vacated), and he’s since moved on, happily signed at Kentucky for eight years, to the tune of $31.65 million.

Now, I still love the college game like a woman. Syracuse and Georgetown have been particularly enjoyable to watch this season. But all these things left undiscussed and glossed over, out of some universal notion of the college game’s ‘purity’ and the everyman’s inclusiveness in March Madness, makes me want to vacate my bowels.

In contrast, professing my love for the NBA these days is like confessing to watching figure skating in the Olympics (minus the homosexual connotations). People are taken aback. Oftentimes I get a, ‘I wouldn’t picture you watching the NBA.’ Really? Why is that? Cuz I’m white, tat-less, and have a propensity for collared shirts? Did you ever get a good look at any helmet-less, uniform-less Gridiron hero that doesn’t play quarterback? Doesn’t anyone remember Larry Bird?

Maybe it’s just my childhood nostalgia creeping up, back when summertime driveway games extended well past dark, only giving way when it was time for the Lakers vs. Bulls, Magic vs. Jordan, in the Finals on TV. When the game was something holy: to me, to my Celtics-loving brother, and to every kid in our ‘hood who used the only hoop around as a daily after-school Church of Roundball. When my budding basketball nerd-dom was taking root under the Jordan-era haze of gravity-less awesomeness. Even then I could have told you: Calipari’s slick ways had no place in the highest basketball level (for the record, he was fired after two-and-a-half seasons with the NBA’s New Jersey Nets, when they started 3-17 in ‘98-’99).

Last Wednesday night, I settled in with pride for the Mavs vs. Suns. Just another mid-season game. Just two 11- and 10-games-above-.500 squads, respectively, struggling to maintain 3 and 6 seeds in the Western Conference, respectively, in a game that featured at least 3 future Hall of Famers, 2 of whom are the most unselfish and original quarterbacks of basketball offense in the game’s history. You can have your Duke vs. generic ACC foe. Kidd vs. Nash will always be a main bout in my house.

JP:

My love of Durant shouldn’t creep you out: he is an evolutionary specimen who pilots the ship for one of the most exciting and fun-to-watch teams in the league right now. He’s also carrying my fantasy team. Embrace your inner groupie, Todd! I know you share a similar sentiment regarding Monta Ellis and Deron Williams, even if you put on a big face for our readers.

It should be noted that it’s not only John Calipari who couldn’t succeed in the NBA after sustained success in college, but also the average four-year collegian. I’m choosing four-year collegians in this particular argument because I figure that to be the best signifier of players who enjoyed the full collegiate experience, who got the most fill of that game’s supposed “purity.”

We’ll call this the Tim Duncan Fallacy: a belief that four-year collegians supposedly make for better professional ball-players, as they are “more experienced” and supposedly better prepared to contribute right away as pros.

In the five NBA Drafts since 2005, no more than eight collegiate seniors have been taken in a first round’s thirty picks (2005 and 2006), and a total of 17 have been picked in first rounds the last three years. Of those 33 seniors drafted in the first round since 2005, only three have made at least one All-Star team: Brandon Roy, David Lee, and Danny Granger, with Roy the only one to make an All-NBA team.

The highest-drafted senior in the past 5 years was Shelden Williams, late of Duke University, who ranks among the biggest Top Five busts of the last five years and is on his third team in five seasons (the man who drafted him was fired almost immediately thereafter and the team, Atlanta, has gotten exponentially better since). Most of the seniors drafted in the first round are of this ilk, for every success like Aaron Brooks six or seven misses like Julius Hodge or Maurice Ager.

One, in fact, must be very generous when making a list of the best seniors to be drafted in the first round these last five years. There’s Lee, Granger, Roy, and Brooks at the top of the list. The rest of it reads thusly:

Al Thornton (career averages of 13.7 pts. and 4.6 rebs. for the Clippers since 2007, recently traded to Washington)

Darren Collison (rookie, averaging 9.3 pts. and 4.2 assists on the year; since taking over for Chris Paul January 30 – 10 games – those averages are 20.3 and 9.7)

Courtney Lee (career averages of 9.6 pts. and 2.8 rebs. in two seasons for two teams, accidental contributor to one NBA Finals team, 2009 Orlando Magic)

Roy Hibbert (career averages of 8.8 pts. and 4.5 rebs. in two seasons for Pacers)

Luther Head (career averages of 8.6 pts. and 2.5 rebs. in five seasons for three teams)

Not exactly All-Stars, right? Success in today’s NBA bears no relationship whatsoever to a successful college career. The two versions of American basketball run on parallel tracks, and while some players can jump across and find a niche, most fall off or get left behind.

There have been a few pseudo-successful seniors culled from the second round or undrafted free agency, when teams can take a chance on them with minimal financial risk. Ronnie Turiaf, Ryan Gomes, Carl Landry, and, this year, Sam Young and Wesley Matthews inhabit this list. But again, no superstars. No one of much note. People you might remember from their college careers, but men so far non-descript in the pro game.

Did you know that only one Duke alumnus has won an NBA title? It was Danny Ferry, on the 2003 Spurs, for whom he did little but stand in the corner and jack up threes or get dunked on (that is, if he chose to play defense). So let there be the Danny Ferry Corollary to the Tim Duncan Fallacy: collegiate success at a prominent program means next to nothing with respect to a professional career. I’d name it after Grant Hill*, but that would just be depressing. And anyway, Danny Ferry earned this.

Durant and Greg Oden only went to college because they had to, and in their one season they dominated the game to the tune of Durant winning Player of the Year and Oden leading his team to the national title game. Derrick Rose did a similar thing the next season, and John Wall is currently doing so in this one. When a different freshman can come in almost every year and take over the entirety of the sport, what does that tell you?

But enough hating on college ball. I have had many good times watching the NCAA tournament and our Marquette Golden Eagles, and anyway we’re here to talk about the Association’s renaissance.

Shall we start with this season’s surprises, or your favorite individual performances so far?

Todd:

Ok, you may have me on point number one, but you missed the player: There is only one professional athlete who I would whole-heartedly, mouth agape and loins a-twitter, sacrifice my heterosexuality for, and that is (drum roll….) Chris Paul.

Not only is he the perfect encapsulation of the point guard I always dreamed of being (a combo of Magic and Isiah), not only does his crossover bring a tear to my eye, and not only did I vehemently voice that the Milwaukee Bucks should have taken him with the #1 overall pick in 2005, but he plays for my most beloved town, New Orleans. And, of course, there is no defining the bond between a man and his fantasy stalwart. Especially if it’s a guy whose promise you identified before the masses, one who gave you such a boner that you took him too early in your fantasy draft, ignored the guffaws, and thought, no matter what happens, this guy is with me… That was CP3 and I two years ago, and the memory still makes me warm and fuzzy…

Now that that’s out there, and since we’ve established watching college ball is barely a notch above Netflixing that new Sarah Jessica/Hugh Grant vehicle, who are my other ‘guys’ this year?

On the Fantasy tip, Monta Ellis immediately jumps to mind. So maybe he plays a ridiculous number of minutes for a spectacularly crappy team, but therein lies the beauty: you can watch the second worst squad in the league and still be floored by a lightning-quick 24-year-old, score-from-anywhere piece of offensive transcendence like Ellis. And, don’t forget, the Warriors also have a 21-year-old, Steph Curry, who fits the exact same profile, and whose jump shot belongs in an art gallery.

Then there’s the aforementioned four-year collegian Aaron Brooks, my backup point guard in fantasy terms but, in real life, a dude deserving of an All-Star nod. While I’d like to see him develop into more of a playmaker - he’s actually less of one than his 5 assists per game might suggest – the diminutive Chris Rock-looking mofo has a stroke, quicks, and an utterly disarming savvy with the ball in most situations. Last year’s playoffs – as a rookie – included. And to think it’s his second year… Makes one wonder where Denver’s J.R. Smith, with more size and a better edition of the same skill set, might be had he gotten himself just a bit of amateur education.

Brandon Roy took me to a fantasy championship last season, and there’s something about him I just can’t put my finger on. Like George Costanza when he learned to leave a room on a high note, there’s something that always leaves me wanting more about Roy. Maybe it is the complete, unflappable restraint. Maybe it’s that silkiness in the clutch, always like he’s playing in some kind of overly dramatic sports movie where the hero can’t miss and you know he’s going to bang at least two of the cheerleaders after the game without as much as a pickup line. Generally, the baddest man in the room is the one saying the least, which we maybe both need to learn… But on a final note, if there is a real life Jesus Shuttlesworth, he is Brandon Roy.

JP:

So you say my Durant love creeps you out, but then you freely admit, without prompting, that you would hand over your heterosexuality to Chris Paul? Interesting…

I have news for you: if J.R. Smith had gone to school, his college career would have been a catastrophe on the level of Jamal Crawford’s, an unending string of suspensions and ineligibility sprinkled with occasional flashes for a college team completely overwhelmed by his presence. One of the best things about the old rules concerning players being able to go pro straight from high school was that it prevented kids who had no interest in or business going to college from doing so. Kids like J.R. Smith.

(Brief aside: Do I hate the current age restrictions? In two words, not necessarily. It gives the college game a layer of star power and athleticism that it desperately needs, and it gives the players themselves a year of having to listen to somebody other than their agent or their posse, which can only help.)

As for my guys, Durant tops the list, for reasons I’ve already mentioned. People his size should not be able to do the things that he does on a regular basis. It’s ridiculous that such a human being exists in this universe. Dwyane Wade is high on the list as well, not just because I had the pleasure of watching him for two years in college, but because he is the smoothest dude on the court every game no matter who is playing, this season’s All-Star MVP, a former Finals MVP, a dominant presence on the last Olympic team, the second-biggest prize in the coming free agency bacchanalia and an all-around player as skilled as any in the league. Wade would make an excellent complement to Derrick Rose in Chicago, Rose a young man who would fuck up your beloved CP3 one-on-one.

And I do have a soft spot for the young guys, players bubbling with so much potential and ready to take over when the moment calls for it. Three in particular this year: Mr. Stephen Curry, who you already discussed; Sacramento’s Tyreke Evans, who I would never in a million years want to play alongside but who sort of plays like Tupac rapped, all swagger and bravado and transcendence; and Milwaukee’s Brandon Jennings, a young guy who, though his stats are down since he exploded early this season, is exactly what the Milwaukee Bucks needed. Plus, he’s responsible, living in the suburbs and driving a Ford. It really is a shame Blake Griffin got that Clippers stank rubbed all over him. He could have had a nice career had he ended up anywhere else.

And now storylines. The biggest one on my end is the horrorshow the New York Knicks trot out nightly. These guys are a capstone franchise in the Association, but years of mismanagement and traded draft picks and chances taken on overpaid stiffs have left the Knicks with as nondescript and untalented a roster as exists in the league (and this includes the 5-51 Nets). There are a couple decent pieces, but on the whole it’s kind of a nightmare. And now they’ve picked up T-Mac for the rest of this season in an effort to clear cap space for next summer. Beautiful. If Wade doesn’t head to Chitown, he should go to Broadway. Do they have a first round pick in next year’s draft? Of course not. Just a disaster all around.

(Editor’s Note: The above passage was written two days before the writer attended the Knicks-Thunder game Saturday night, February 20. He will write a full article on the experience later on this week. Let’s just say in advance that he had a really good time at MSG. That piece should drop Thursday or Friday. Back to the column.)

On the flip side of this, we have the pleasure of enjoying several franchises that spent years down and out challenging for playoff spots. I discussed the Hawks above, a team that has gotten better each of the last three years. Is this their chance to break through? My beloved Grizzlies are also making noise. Cheering for them the last few years was something like babysitting Forrest Gump, and this season is the scene where his leg braces exploded and the kid zoomed away from those bullies. Even though they’ve lost seven of their last ten, after a 1-8 start they sit at 28-27 and only two and a half games out of a playoff spot. To give you perspective: last year they won 24 games total, and 22 each the two years before that.

Durant has turned Oklahoma City into a veritable NCAA Cinderella, posting his squad firmly in the Western Conference playoffs on the strength of 9 straight wins, and over in the East Charlotte and Milwaukee have so far fared much better than anyone had any right to expect at the season’s outset, especially considering Milwaukee lost Michael Redd and Charlotte has gotten almost nothing from Tyson Chandler.

None of these franchises has a chance of making any substantial noise come playoff time, maybe a chance for an upset a la the 2007 Warriors (who were summarily destroyed after beating 69-win Dallas) but no titles in their future. The Cavs have been a house on fire all season and, current three-game losing streak notwithstanding, got better with the Jamison trade. The Lakers are the class of the West, 42-14 and winners of four straight. If everything goes according to plan, Lebron will face Kobe in the Finals, and the NBA should re-ascend that mountaintop, at least until the lockout hits in a year and a half.

Of course, that was supposed to be the case last year, too, and then Hedo, Rashard Lewis, and those boys in Orlando got hot at the right time. One never knows…

Todd:

First of all, in no way would I “hand over” my heterosexuality to Chris Paul. That’s preposterous. He would simply pick my pocket and take it (league leader in steals, two years running). I’m a hell of a ball-handler, but… Besides, if you had seen the GQ pics of Paul lounging in NOLA’s Preservation Hall, you wouldn’t question my prom-night willingness.

My whorish fandom aside, the crux of the discussion and the season, as you nailed, is undoubtedly the new guys and new teams: Tyreke, a gunner-for-hire in the Arenas mold; and Jennings, despite the early season premature ejaculation, I still say could be the next Iverson. Then there’s a guy like Darren Collison – four years at UCLA and now going against Paul in practice everyday; and Ty Lawson – three and a championship at UNC and now daily schoolings by Chauncey Billups. If ever were the seeds of a perfect bonsai tree planted, there are two golden ones ready to bloom out West. But in the midst of all this neophyte hype, someone important is being enormously overshadowed and under-appreciated: Steve Nash.

Players come and go, stars emerge and fade, but at 36-years-old, the dude is putting up 18 points a game, a league-leading 11.2 assists, and doing his standard 90-50-40 (ft, fg, 3pt) percentage thing. Compare his numbers with Oscar or Stockton at the same age. Go ahead…When Nash was my age, I couldn’t drive and Y2K was the H1N1 of the day. And he remains the same uncanny mix of creativity, fundamentals and selfless maestro-ness that he was when I had braces.

And after all this, how does it play out?

Can’t argue that all signs point to a Kobe vs. Lebron Finals. Everybody wants it, even me, somewhat, despite a deep-seated hatred for all things yellow and/or purple. It’d be best for fans, for the league, for history, and this is probably why it doesn’t happen. Every time I’ve seen Denver this year, there seems a certain sparkle in their eye. I’ll be the first to admit the Mr. Big Shot association with Chauncey Billups is overblown (truthfully, when he crossed my path at Borders books in downtown Milwaukee a few years back, he seemed to actually shy away from contact); but there’s something about the way he’s playing, something about that Finals MVP, his having already taken a ring away from Kobe, and maybe something new and great from ‘Melo on the horizon. To this point, all I know is my substantial gut (and the fact that the Nuggets are 4-0 combined against the Lakers and Cavs). George Karl’s cancer battle also gives them a kind of late season win-for-the-gipper mentality that can never be underestimated.

But, most likely, this is all a Laker-hater’s wishful thinking.

Realistically, do the Cavs take the East? Probably… The Magic have too whacky a rotation, Howard still has no dependable o-game, and they never should have let go of Turkoglu. The Celtics appear frailer than Benjamin Button – at the beginning – and the Hawks are just tykes…

Do the Lakers take the West? Almost definitely… The Mavs always find a way to wilt, and Denver has the J.R. Smith Retard Factor working against them. More importantly, God just loves to torture me. But you said it yourself, anything can happen. Otherwise, what would be the point of 5,000 words? And anyways, picking 1-seeds is for amateurs and the ubiquitous bracket-fillers of March…

Denver over Atlanta. In 7.

JP:

Now that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you make a bold statement. You acknowledge the obvious, and then go in another direction.

“Of course it will be L.A. and Cleveland, but I SAY IT WILL BE DENVER AND ATLANTA. In 7, bitches.”

And oh me oh my oh, how I would like to agree. I would love to strike out for the mountain atop which Kobe lets anybody beat him for the next two years. For a magical land where Kobe doesn’t know the clock is ticking. Where Kobe doesn’t recognize all these great players coming into their own and all these younger ones just getting started, where Kobe doesn’t look himself in the mirror every morning to say, “I am the greatest living basketball player for the next year or two tops, and I have to maximize every moment RIGHT NOW because once these other dudes get going I’m finished.”

But Kobe knows and does all of that. He knows what’s up. He’s 31 and in his career thus far has played an absurd amount of minutes. He’s taken some rest the past couple of weeks, but when he’s ready to go, it’s over.

I spent the past weekend hanging out with a Kobe guy, and he proved quite convincing. When LeBron is ready, and I mean fully ready in a “Jordan in June of 1991” way, he’s not sliding back. If Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh or Dwyane Wade and Derrick Rose or Bosh and LeBron or Wade and whoever end up playing together on a franchise that’s a piece or two away, then once that next piece fits there is no going back. Kobe had his run of things for years and so far “only” has four titles. He wants at least one more, and ideally two or three. All these men we’ve discussed are exciting or enthralling or on the cusp of a great and beautiful wave, but Kobe’s in the clock tower with an assault rifle. No one’s getting past him without a fight to the death.

Kobe’s blood runs cold. He is The Man and wouldn’t have it any other way. He’s on the biggest-stage in the Western Conference with the most successful coach in his sport’s history, and this is not a year he will even consider losing to anyone other than LeBron James. Carmelo’s going to have wait another year, at least, as is everyone else. If LeBron wants it, LeBron is going to have to take it from Kobe’s dead, rotting hands.

And that’s not going to happen this year. For the citizens of Cleveland, I would like it to. I just don’t see it. Lakers in 5 or 6, maybe, if Cleveland makes it. Otherwise, it’s L.A. in a sweep and Kobe ascends another step on the all-time ladder.

It’s been a real pleasure, Todd. I’ll be up in Milwaukee in two weeks, and 22 NBA teams will be in action that night. There should be a good game on somewhere, and cold beers there to boot. Until then.