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More NBA Stuff: THE. Knickerbockers WIN! 2-0 is amazing…

[2-minute read]

And then there’s Mike Brown coaching (and Mitch Johnson for the Spurs, young though he is) in a way that shows trust in his supporting cast: no Brunson, no KAT, and players who’ve been trusted all season — guess what? — are ready to play when it counts. Big third quarter, game could’ve gotten away from the Knicks with Towns’s 4th (terrible call!) foul. And the stars are fresher? Yes. And will be, in the fourth quarter. I really like the NBA’s movement towards not only faster play, not only more full-court pressure on star guards, but the consequent requirement to play more guys and play like a team. I love coaching this way, which is essential in a high school program. Who knows who’s going to grow, mature, work his tail off, gain confidence…? And in this case, who knows how many important plays a trusted substitute (Shamet, McBride) or complementary player (Hart! Bridges!) can make?

Knicks up 12, early in the 4th. Brown *still* playing his bench, and they’re playing well. And Daddy (Coach) Rick Brunson wants to get in there to defend his boy! Coach Rick gets no technical foul for going all the way down to the Spurs bench to challenge the schoolyard bullies? (This game is close to going off the rails.) Jalen Brunson is way too cool to get baited into a foul like Fox (and Friends!) were hoping for. Nice try De’Aaron…”Too physical!” says Richard Jefferson on the broadcast, and I can’t agree more. Rugby rules. Blow the whistles, refs! That eventually *does* lead to the ability to let ’em play. Right now, not much skill is even possible. I get that officials don’t want to decide things, though. Toughest game in the world to referee.

And again I notice: wow, the Knicks have a surprisingly loud following in San Antonio. Resale market for tickets, and San Antonio ticket-holders have terrible temptations, in the many thousands of dollars, to make some money on their ducats. And the Knicks are an ancient and durable brand.

And what a finish! Spurs are so young, but tough! Their guard pressure, Fox and Harper (a baby! and a grown-arse man!) and the maybe gimpy Castle — so physical, and with the way the game’s being refereed, playing hard without (?) fouling. Tie game, rookie Harper with another big drive to the goal. Oh, and a crucial replay: turnover against the Knicks turned into three free throws for OG Anunoby. (Foolish foul in the coffin corner. Game changer.) (Wish OG was still a Raptor. Don’t expect *he* does.) Spurs huge, and then Brunson, fouled at least three times bringing the ball up, STILL gets a huge clutch shot off to tie…

Crunchiest of crunch times.

Whew! Wemby had a great look, straight as a die, long and strong (what we shooting coaches love to see, in a practicing player’s miss) but still a miss. Superb, furious, brave comeback by the Spurs but what an early-fourth-quarter clinic by the Knicks to compile what turned out to be just enough of a lead — as long as Victor doesn’t miss the last one. As long as Victor doesn’t, for moments here and there, look exactly like the young, young player, however magnificent he can be, that he *is*. And how can I not pull for Karl-Anthony Towns after a thoughtful, feeling interview like that one in the immediate aftermath of such a game? He came close to suggesting that his beloved mother blew Wembanyama’s shot off the back rim from the heavenly gates, but all that humility and all that gratitude for the game? Sweet and noble stuff, even if it is only about the winning and the losing of a silly sports match. One that millions lost sleep (and money, and their minds) over.

And I’m not in bed before midnight, but I still love sport. And I’m glad I watched. Nice ramblin’ atcha! Thanks for reading.

 

Knicks and Spurs: Ramblings 2

[5-minute read] [This is Part 2 of a live-ish reaction to Finals Game 2. Part 1 is here.]

My goodness, Jalen Brunson was magnificent in the 2nd half of game 1, and he’s under gigantic defensive pressure/punishment here. Karl-Anthony Towns is an awkward big, but those hands. That rebounding. He’s been a bit of a punchline in my (mainly online, podcast-driven) NBA fanship. But hey, can we put in a word for the possibility that even seasoned, veteran players like him can LEARN? Can improve? He clearly has, and much of it has been just this year, from what I can tell.

Hacking Mitchell Robinson. Ugly basketball. I know what the hardliners would say: His fault. Just make your damned free throws if you don’t want to get hacked! But it’s one of several ways that the FIBA rules are superior to those of the NBA. It’s an “unsporting foul”, 2 free throws and the offence retains the ball, and suddenly this side show, where San Antonio reserves just keeping intentionally fouling one guy, far from the play (and in the first case, when Knick Landry Shamet had beaten his man on an actual Basketball Play and was attacking the goal), is just removed from the game. Good riddance!

Moral dilemma: I can fast-forward through the interminable, repetitive commercial breaks and get myself to bed before midnight, but then I don’t have time to record my every hoop-nuts thought for the edutainment of the masses! Tough call.

This is bad basketball. Another stupid foul on Robinson — but he hit both. Good for him. Sidebar: why the hell won’t somebody with that terrible a free-throw stroke try the underhand shot. YES, I MEAN THE ‘GRANNY’! This shooting coach — I mean ME — in a basketball tributary pool far from the world centres of the game, is conceited enough to think he could teach Mr. Robinson how to make at least HALF his free throws…

End of quarter. Great start for these precocious baby guards in San Antonio. (Man, they’ve had massive draft luck: 1st pick in the Wembanyama Draft, then getting Stephon Castle at 4 the next year, and Dylan Harper at 2 last June, but superb and less-obvious choices in the last two cases) And, you have to think that they, along with Oklahoma City and precious few other franchises, are doing a wonderful job of developing the players they have, and not the constant “Trade Machine” roulette, another thing I find tiresome. They did set De’Aaron Fox (got his first-name spelled almost right, first try!) free from Sacramento Kings purgatory; always loved that guy since the tears at the end of his (brief!) college career, in contrast to the oh well, just another game in another tournament AAU-cursed cool of, say, Lonzo Ball in the same year after he got bounced out of the NCAA Tournament.

Did I say “tiresome”? “And let’s check on our superstars, Draft Kings odds blah blah blah”– gad, even the former NBA players doing colour commentary on the game have to shill for this Resident Evil that has so tarnished the pro game. An old dude like me remembers gambling as being the number one enemy afflicting sports, and now it’s every league’s best friend, even as it preys on vulnerable young men. (An old Sports Illustrated feature: “This Week’s Sign That the Apocalypse is Upon Us”. For this decade, it’s clearly the unbelievable hold that gambling suddenly has on pro sports. Sickening.) I remember the old Supertramp album from the 1970s: “What Were Once Vices Are Now Habits”. How prescient is that? And yeah, I said it. Gambling is a vice. The love of money is the root of evils. Yup, I said “evil”, too; so did the New Testament and most calls to right living. (That’s some harsh language, sir!)

Towns is playing so well! At a certain point in my coaching, I was about to rename our old “Mikan Drill”, the big man shooting protocol immortalized by the great Laker from the ’50s (when the Lakers were in Minnesota, where there are actually, y’know, lakes), and call it the KAT drill, but his obvious skills didn’t seem to match his total “impact on winning”, as coaches like to say. So the drill is still named after George Mikan, at least in our gym. But it’s great to see the transformation of Towns into this smart, responsible player (and not just a star)…

I love how fast the Knicks are playing, both teams, really. As much as I love Shai Gilgeous-Alexander — a good old Hamilton homeboy, as I almost am, as my nephew Tyler (yes, *that* Tyler, Ternowski of the Hamilton Tiger-Cats of the CFL, for one season a high school teammate of SGA at Sir Allan MacNab) actually is — I think, from what I saw and heard of the Spurs’ victory over the Thunder in the western finals, that Shai loves too much to advance the ball slowly; it’s the same tendency that Jayson Tatum, according to Coach Jay, needs to overcome. I do love the fast-break game. Why allow a suffocating defensive team to get set?

Gosh, I thought I’d be pulling for the Spurs. They beat Shai’s Thunder, for one thing, but I have loved the Spurs for pretty much the whole Gregg Popovich era: the Admiral, Timmy!, Tony, Manu, that incredible dismantling of the Miami Heatles during the James/Wade/Bosh era, the fearless political (well, let’s just say “humane”) commentary of Coach Pop, that beautiful brand of team basketball, the new era with an intelligent, sane young unicorn in Victor W…. But man, these Knicks are reminding me, speaking of gorgeous ball movement and shooting, of what I grew up on in the ’70s. The Knicks with two titles, the Celtics of Havlicek and Cowens and JoJo White. I am shocked to be pulling for the Knicks, but Brunson is so good. Josh Hart is an outstanding role player doing all the right things. Kat 2.0. Loved the Villanova University teams of Jay Wright (Hart, Brunson, Bridges), and this is a team built on the fundamentals of team ball. I love it.

And now Kenny, Shaq and Charles are yelling incoherently at each other during “At the Half”. Later!

 

 

But you know, I’m gonna miss this place. Huge.

And I will miss our Chinese friends even more. Jet-lag smacks me pretty hard, but it’s already starting to ease a little. (I can face my keyboard with only minimal dread.) The general disorientation of farewells, uprooting and re-entry into a previous context will soon fade; the cleaning and painting and purging of our house will be over in a few weeks.  I believe and hope that I haven’t left China forever, and that I’ll see some of our friends again, but I know that for too many I’ve said my last goodbye. That’s how it happens, though I’m not much good at accepting it.

I’ll write more about it. I imagine a four-part goodbye: to the teaching work at two Dalian universities, to the new legs that China gave to my long-dormant basketball playing, to the wonders and remarkabilities of that tremendous country that is so suddenly front and centre to the world’s future, and to our sharing of the Baha’i vision with new and lasting friends. (I want you to hold me to this promise.) For now, for recently, I’ve only posted a couple of things.

In “At First Glance”, just below in this main section, you’ll find a piece I could have titled “Fear and Loathing on Huangpu Lu”. I probably was more than a few centimetres from death, but I stared at that speeding car from way too close and from the seat of my slightly soiled pants.

In the “It’s All About Sports” section, there’s this retrospective on the stunningly high level of basketball played by the San Antonio Spurs in winning the NBA championship. We still don’t get it, and with LeBron having dominated the North American sports headlines even after losing, even during the World Cup, my essay isn’t going to change anything. I tried, anyway.

“On Second Thought”, the place where I put ideas I’ve pondered and worried over longer, was just the spot for an older piece, one that didn’t find publication back in 2007 but still tells a story of faith and commitment that you might find touching. (It still touches me, but pain isn’t everything.)

And, it being World Cup season, with Germany and Argentina itching for a fight — but without violent or military intentions — a few days ago I quoted a fine American writer, Brian Phillips, who mused about what the Cup does that no other human activity can match. That’s in the “He Said/She Said” section.

Please note also that the so free and easy to SUBSCRIBE it’s almost sinful button is still just over there, top right.

JH [dot] com is on Twitter @JamesHowdenIII. It keeps followers up-to-date with what’s happening here, plus the usual Twitter smorgasboard of observations, pass-alongs and faves, and of course you’re welcome. 

Thanks for looking in. If you’re new here, read on to find out more about “Sport, Culture and Other Obsessions” that I’ve been writing about

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Learning Danny Green

Although my teaching schedule has blissfully allowed me to watch every minute of the NBA Finals — the games are on at 9 am here in Dalian, and my classes are mainly in the afternoons — it’s also June: time to make up for past marking sins, time for administrivia and visas and social obligations, time to prepare for a Canadian summer. I haven’t written a thing about the Spurs versus the Heat, and Game 6 is already upon us. Xiaoqiang is here, and the TV is warming up. I’m thinking about Danny Green.

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Praising the Bull, Savouring the Curry

There were no great surprises in the first round of the NBA playoffs, though two series rose above the others for interest and flavour. I would cheer for the laundry of the Golden State Warriors – their regular duds, not the short-sleeved jerseys with the weirdly non-matching pinstriped shorts – even if they didn’t have Stephen Curry and several other players I find easy to like. Meanwhile, what the Chicago Bulls did in taking a seven-game series on their opponents’ court was heartening evidence that coaching matters. (Thibodeau may not lead the most balanced of lives, but his Bulls teams are superbly prepared.) Character matters, even in the star-tossed salad of the National “Big is Here” Association.

Derrick Rose, Chicago’s dynamite point guard, hasn’t played in a year. (Loved his teammate’s sincere “shaddap” to Mr. Rose’s couch-bound critics.) His backup, Kirk Hinrich, missed the last two games of the Brooklyn Nets series with a bum leg, as did their Mr. Everything small forward, Luol Deng, who has been

The little fella has driven coaches nuts, but he’s been clutch. Boozer and the young kid, Jimmy Butler, have been aces, too.

seriously ill. Third-string point guard Nate Robinson is shorter than me, though he is a mighty mite and an absolutely conscience-free scorer. Centre Joakim Noah has been gutting out his minutes because of plantar fasciitis (sore feet). I hadn’t seen much of the Nets/Bulls collision, the only first-round matchup to go seven games, but I’d read most of the fairly astonishing accounts of how the Chicago men were getting by on focus, cohesion, toughness, and last-ditch defensive efforts that lasted entire games.

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Peter Pan’s Diffident Lament

Here we are, in jockdom’s Most Wonderful Time of the Year — NBA and NHL playoffs, college basketball just finished, baseball beginning, Master’s golf if you consider golf a sport, the NFL draft if you’re in serious need of therapy — and I’m worried. I do hop on cbssports.com a couple of times a week to see who’s beating whom in hoops. I live in Ottawa, so the briefest dalliance with local JockRadio tells me more about the NHL smash-mouth Olympics than, strictly speaking, I actually need to know. I guess I’m saying that my personal sports mania may need a shot of sildenafil citrate.

(And I’m not really “worried”. I’m not a complete Peter Pan, and while I’ve often said that my own immaturity was an advantage in relating to kids, I’m not completely opposed to putting away childish things. But it’s interesting. Year after year, I find that I’m content with knowing just a little bit less about pro sports. Watchin’ every last game? No need. I’ve seen so many that it’s much more efficient, if I really feel the need, to read a game summary and say Hmm. The Spurs went out in five to the Mavericks. I like the Spurs. So I read to find out why they lost. No Ginobili. Big numbers for Parker and the Big Fundamental, but not enough. So there you go.)

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