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Larry Bird

This is where the real LeBron needs to show up

Lebron Contrary to popular, knee-jerk opinion, no legacies have been defined. It takes a much longer body of work to create things like epitaphs, legacies or whatever else it is we sports fans like to drone on about. These are complicated things that take depth to speak about with any type of substance.

In other words, don't cry for LeBron James—not that anyone was or will. He's just 26-years old and largely viewed as the most talented basketball player on the planet. He's also teamed with Dwyane Wade, another one of the most talented ballplayers in the world, so one would assume his best days are in the future.

So if LeBron is the type to think about such things as legacies and his place in the pantheon of NBA greats, he has to know that it's how a player comes back that proves his mettle.

It’s the Buddhist proverb that goes: fall down seven times stand up eight. LeBron just has to stand up once.

That's the tricky part. After the Dallas Mavericks sent the Miami Heat and LeBron into a summer sure to be filled with second-guessing, Magic Johnson came on TV to talk about how he dedicated himself to the game after his Lakers lost the Celtics in seven games during the 1984 Finals. Even though Magic had won an NCAA national title and two NBA titles in less than five years, it wasn't until he lost that he says he, "got it." In losing Magic knew what it took to win.

From Jackie McMullen's, When the Game was Ours:

“It was the worst night of my life,” Magic said. “I told myself, ‘Don't ever forget how this feels.’”

The 1984 NBA Finals could be ground zero for when the league took off into the stratosphere. Not only was it the first time the Larry Bird-led Celtics and Magic's Lakers met in the finals, but also it was the last time the NBA played a season without Michael Jordan. Better yet, it didn't hurt that the series was one the greatest ever played and actually made the pre-series hype seem as if it wasn't hyped up enough. For seven games both teams punched and counterpunched—sometimes literally. After the clubs split the first two games with the Celtics taking Game 2 in overtime because of costly mistakes by Magic and James Worthy, the Lakers trounced the Celtics in Game 3 by 33 points.

Game 3 was the epitome of Lakers Showtime. They sprinted past the Celtics as if they were standing still, turning even the most mundane of missed shots into transition baskets that resulted in dunks and layups.

But afterwards, two things happened. Bird stood in front of the throng of media in the crush of the post game deconstruction and said that the Celtics played like "a bunch of sissies." The next day during a film session where all of their mistakes were placed on display, Celtics’ coach K.C. Jones gave the simple edict that turned the series on its head:

No more layups. Then this happened:

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X7r6vXeOfyQ]

The series changed with that one, dirty play from Kevin McHale. Of course Bird still had to play MVP-type basketball the rest of the way, but the die had been cast and one of the greatest seven-game series ever played unfolded.

Still, Bird knew that there was no resting on victory, either. Magic said he wanted the pain of defeat to linger so he could learn from it while Bird, with his second ring in five seasons understood that victory had a price. Again, from McMullen’s When the Game was Ours:

The morning after Boston’s celebration, Bird finally went home for a little shuteye. Around midafternoon, Buckner, who was experiencing his first-ever NBA title, drove to Bird’s Brookline home with the hope of celebrating all over again. Dinah informed Buckner that Larry wasn’t there.

“He was out running,” Buckner said. “When he got back, I said to him, ‘Man, what are you doing?’”

Bird looked at him quizzically before he answered.

“I’m getting ready for next year,” he said.

Make no mistake about it, LeBron’s issues have nothing to do with the sideshow silliness that dogged him ever since he staged that ill-advised, The Decision followed by a pep rally in which he promised a veritable Miami dynasty. For a guy who never won anything, well, ever, it was a pretty ballsy move. Worse, the soap opera-aspect didn’t die after the series, either. When asked about the schadenfreude aspect his life has taken, James really suggested that he pitied the regular people out there with their mundane lives.

Really. Check out a bit from Adrian Wojnarowski’s column on Yahoo! after Game 6:

This is still Dwyane Wade’s town, and probably Wade’s team. One Eastern Conference star said, “Right now all he’s doing is helping D-Wade get his second ring.”

To hear James suggest that the world will have to return to its sad, little ordinary lives and he’ll still get to be LeBron James late Sunday night was a window into his warped, fragile psyche. It was sad, and portends to how disconnected to the world he truly is.

“They have to wake up and have the same life that they had before they woke up today … the same personal problems,” James said. “I’m going to continue to live the way that I want to live. … But they have to get back to the real world at some point.”

There’s nothing real about James’ world, and never has been. He’s a prisoner of a life that his sycophants and enablers and our sporting culture has created for him. He’s rich and talented and something of a tortured soul. He’s the flawed superstar for these flawed times. He’s a creation of a basketball breeding ground full of such twisted priorities and warped principles. Almost every person who’s ever had to work closely with him, who has spent significant time, who’s watched him belittle and bully people, told me they were rooting hard against him. That’s sad, and that’s something he doesn’t understand and probably never will.

That still gets back to the sideshow side of things. The truth is James’ problems all come from basketball. If he wants to quiet the doubters or prove his greatness, it doesn’t come when the tattoo is finally affixed or the checks are cashed. It comes when a man is true to his art. If there was one thing that was proven in the NBA Finals it was that James’ game is still a work in progress.

Oh sure, LeBron is the most talented player in the game, but that doesn’t mean he’s the smartest or even the best player in the NBA. During the finals against Dallas he disappeared in the fourth quarter, failing to move to the ball. When he did get his hands on it, he was content to fire up long jumpers where he was barely a threat. He scored 16 points in the fourth quarter during the series and attempted just 20 foul shots in the six games. Those are fine stats if you are J.J. Barea, but not if you have “The Chosen One” tattooed across your coat rack-like shoulders.

Bird_magic In the finale, there were two non-plays that stood out as evidence that James doesn’t understand his place in the Heat’s halfcourt offense and they occurred right on top of each other. One was when James found himself guarded by Mavs’ point guard Jason Kidd. With a good five inches of height on Kidd, all James had to do was back him down to the low block, post up and feast off that for a basket. Or, if the Mavericks chose to double down on James on the post, a man would be open and there was a 50-50 chance it could be Wade or Chris Bosh.

Needless to say, those aren’t bad odds.

Instead, James kicked the ball out before drifting away from the post where he could position himself around the three-point line. You know, the spot where he could do the least amount of damage.

Shortly after this, James was guarded by six-foot guard Barea, a player whom he had an advantage of nine-inches in height and approximately 70 pounds in weight. This wasn’t a mismatch, it was a gimme. But rather than score over little Barea, James was whistled for an offensive foul while attempting to back him down. Worse, he was credited with a turnover, too.

Still, two chances with the ball against smaller guards like Kidd and Barea and James didn’t attempt a shot, committed a foul and turned over the ball.

Nope, that stuff has nothing to do with arrogance or the soap opera-like scrutiny he lives under. That’s just bad, bad basketball. Here, don’t listen to me… let someone who knows what they’re talking about explain it.

“If I’m LeBron, I’m going home this summer and I’m getting on the low block and I’m working everyday on a right-hand jump hook and a turnaround jump shot,” former NBA champion with the Bulls and Phoenix GM, Steve Kerr said as a guest on the Dan Patrick Show. “If you followed what happened during the series when he went down there, they had some success. In the fourth quarter he went down there, Dallas brought the double, he swung it to Mario Chalmers for a three. Next time they don’t double and he turns on Shawn Marion and lays it in. It was like the easiest thing you’ve ever seen and yet they couldn’t do a steady diet of it because he’s not ­comfortable down there. That’s the next step for him and it’s tough for LeBron because of all the scrutiny and all the criticism and the attention.

“But he has to cut through all of that and get to the core of what is wrong which is basketball. It’s basketball-related. He’s flawed as a basketball player and he has to address those issues.”

Maybe the difference between LeBron and the all-time greats is they knew they had to work to correct those shortcomings. They had to add new wrinkles to their games and take away what doesn’t work. Look at Jordan, who went from a Doctor J clone to become the most complete player ever. Magic went 0 for 21 from three-point range in 1982-83 and made just 58 three-pointers in his first nine seasons in the league. However, in the final three seasons of his career he made 245 threes.

Finally, it was always said that Bird couldn’t leap over the lines and needed a sun dial to time his sprints up and down the floor, but he led the NBA in defensive win shares in four of his first seven years in the league.

Indeed, the all-time greats were driven by the game and obsessed with improving all the time. That’s how things like legacies are defined.

Clearly, LeBron has some work to do.

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Stay off the lawn!

Wildbill A kid can learn a lot at a baseball game. The most important lesson, of course, is how to act—or not act—in social settings. 

Oh yes, you can see where this is going already, right? But guess what… forget it. We’re not going to even mention those knuckleheads that jumped on the field at Citizens Bank Park the past two nights and the criminal vomitter from a few weeks back. If there were a way to go back into a time machine and Photoshop them out of attendance at the ballpark, then yes, that would be infinitely better than taking a taser to their backsides.

Unfortunately there are no time machines except for in the movies and people can’t be Photoshopped out of existence. What a gyp.

Anyway, we try to focus on the positive here, so let’s just say that one has to work very hard to have a bad time at a ballpark or an arena. It happens sometimes, and based on the latest events reported out of Citizens Bank Park, it has been happening a lot. The shame of that is there are some really good fans that get out to games and it’s possible that the really good fans are being scared away from going to games.

And no, that fear does not come from the price of tickets.

I always relate going to games to the way it was when I was a kid. Frankly, there weren’t too many things that were more fun than the handful of games my family went to every year. Luckily, some of those games are burned in my brain like the time Larry Bird, at the height of his ability, dropped a triple-double on the Sixers at the Spectrum and used one ridiculous move that I hadn’t seen before or since.

Then there was the final game of the 1982 baseball season at Memorial Stadium where Robin Yount went 3-for-4 with two homers to overshadow a pitching matchup featuring future Hall-of-Famers Jim Palmer and Don Sutton. More notably, Yount’s heroics cinched the 1982 AL MVP Award for him and got the Brewers into the playoffs for the first time ever.

There were other events, too, like the beginning of the Red Sox swoon in 1978 that we saw from behind home plate at Memorial Stadium, which was the perfect vantage point to see a home run hit by Jim Rice that may have just landed. We were also there on a sun-drenched Sunday where Cal Ripken appeared in the very first game of his historical streak. The thing that made that day stand out was that Toronto pitchers Jim Gott and Roy Lee Jackson combined to one-hit the Orioles in one the most boring games I ever sat and watched. Rick Dempsey got a one-out single in the fifth, so there was no drama whatsoever. Worse, it was a combined one-hitter, which seems rather devious when you think about it.

Nevertheless, we were able to have fun at the games without being jerks about it. Sure, most of that has to do with the fact that we were really into the teams and the sports, but that didn’t seem so extraordinary at the time. We didn’t need dollar-dog nights or bobbleheads to get us out to the park. Maybe it was a different time or perhaps our senses weren’t numbed or dulled down by an over proliferation of media coming from all directions, but the game, a ticket stub and a program was enough.

Maybe because of our ability in interact or communicate with anyone (or anything), there is an attitude that the individual is part of the show, too. It wasn’t so much as we knew our place way back when, but maybe we had a little more respect for others’ property. The game and the field belonged to someone else and the only way to get the honor of running, hitting or shooting on it was by earning it.

True story: in 10 years of exclusively writing about baseball, I walked onto the actual playing surface just one time. It was to retrieve an errant baseball and then fire it back to the kid retrieving them, but even then I was told—under no uncertain terms—to get off the field.

That’s someone else’s work space, not mine.

From those days of going to games as a kid, there was one fan we saw as the ultimate booster of his team. He didn’t have a fancy job, or seats in a special box or anything, he was just a guy who liked to hang out with his friends in Section 34 at Memorial Stadium after finishing his shift as a cab driver in Baltimore.

Oh yes, we loved Wild Bill Hagy.

Wild Bill came from the Dundalk section of town and did nothing more than cheer for his team. In fact, he was so good at cheering for his team that everyone else followed his lead, which included his trademark of spelling out the world ORIOLES with his limbs and shouting, “Oh!” during the final stanza of the “Star Spangled Banner.” That was it. Wild Bill was just a fan—a genuine fan without any airs or pretension.

Better yet, Wild Bill didn’t have to run onto the field or break the law in order to get attention. He didn’t have fancy seats or have ins with any of the team’s brass. He was just a guy who liked the Orioles.

What’s wrong with that?

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Workin' for the weekend

Dunk Unless you’ve seen it in-person and with slow-motioninstant replays, there probably isn’t much to grab the casual fan about the NBA’s dunk contest anymore. More than simply getting caught into the over-saturation of the modern media, it’s seems as if the dunk contest is a victim of its own success.

Blame Dominique Wilkins, Spud Webb, Doc and Michael Jordan.

Sure, the dunks still push the envelope a bit and the contestants are as athletic and innovative as ever, it’s just when one has seen Doc leaping off one leg from the foul line with the afro blowing in the breeze, and Jordan getting horizontal and looking down on the rim before he throws it through, well, everything else is kind of blah. That’s a shame, too, because dunking a ball still is one of those great feats for dudes like me.

Unrequited athletic goals: run marathon fast enough to qualify for the Olympic Trials and dunk a basketball on a regulation hoop.

Oh, but they’ll be dunkin’ ‘em tonight in Dallas. Instead of a multi-leveled scoring system with elimination rounds in a veritable tournament of dunkitude, tonight’s competition will have just five contestants, which seems like the perfect amount. However, the casual fan might not know who a few of the guys are.

One of the contestants is two-time dunk champion Nate Robinson of the Knicks. Robinson, as some might remember, is the 5-foot-9 guard who jumped over 5-foot-3 ex-champ, Spud Webb, in the 2006 competition and was declared the winner. It didn’t matter that the Sixers’ Andre Iguodala was the better dunker in the competition because the 5-foot-9 dude jumped over the 5-foot-3 guy. Meanwhile, Iguodala dunked one from the out-of-bounds side of the baseline while behind the backboard. There is no way Robinson could have performed a dunk like Iguodala’s and I’m pretty sure Iggy wouldn’t even need a running start to leap over Spud Webb.

Here’s the thing about the modern-day dunk contest that may be its flaw: who are these guys?

Yeah, we know who Nate Robinson is because he won the dunk contest twice. Yet when it comes to his play with the Knicks, Robinson is an OK player for a bad team. In fact, the best thing about Robinson as far as the Knicks are concerned is that he can be a free agent at the end of the season.

That’s certainly not a knock on Robinson’s abilities. Coming off the bench for the Knicks, Robinson still gets more than 13 points a game in 24 minutes. Yes, Robinson is flawed, but he’s not the Knicks biggest problem.

He’s just the dunk contest’s problem.

Admit it, Robinson is only in the competition because he’s 5-foot-9. That’s it. There’s no other appeal to having Robinson in there other than he’s small. That’s the same reason for Spud Webb’s appeal, too. He was 5-foot-3, which is shorter than just about every adult male in the country unless they are professional jockeys or coxswains. So putting the little guy in to dunk against the big fellas is part of the show. It’s cool, it looks impressive, but it’s kind of like going to the freak show to watch the dude hammer nails into his nose. Who cares that Dominique had better dunks than Spud Webb way back when?

Robinson says he’s going to win this year, too, which would make him the most decorated dunker in the slam dunk contest ever. That’s more than Jordan, Dominique, Harold Minor [1]and Jason Richardson.  However, Shannon Brown of the Lakers appears to be the favorite of the pundits who wax on about such things. Ironically, Brown is the same age as Miner was when the Cavs waived him after just 19 games in 1996.

And there’s the rub—Robinson, Brown along with Gerald Wallace, Eric Gordon and DeMar DeRozan are the dunkers in Dallas, and undoubtedly all of them can go all out because there isn’t an All-Star in the bunch. There’s no LeBron, no Kobe, no Dwight Howard or even Kevin Durant. It’s almost the same deal in the three-point shootout, though All-Stars Paul Pierce and Chauncey Billups will be firing them up. Still, it’s doubtful Pierce will walk into the locker room with the other contestants and start talking trash or ask, “Which one of you guys is going for second?”[2]

Here’s all you need to know about the modern-day NBA All-Star weekend… while the big stars like LeBron and Kobe are wearing their best tailored suit and sitting on the sidelines, Jason Kapono is cleaning up in the three-point shootout. Yes, Jason Kapono won it twice in a row when he was (2007 and 2008) playing for the Heat and the Raptors. Yet for one reason or another Kapono can’t get off the bench for the Sixers this season.

How does that happen? Kapono is shooting 38 percent on just 79 three-pointer attempts this season. And who wants to see him shoot the ball for the three-point title or in game action with the Sixers?

C'mon LeBron... just dunk some for us.


[1] Harold Miner had the ignominy of being nicknamed, “Baby Jordan.” Isn’t that awful? It’s especially awful considering that Minor couldn’t play a lick. “Baby Jordan” lasted just four seasons in the NBA with the Heat and Cavs, but won two dunk contests. Sounds like he was spreading himself a little thin—instead of dunking maybe he should have been working on other things.

[2] Was there ever a better bit of PG-level bit of trash talk ever? You’d never know it, but everyone says Bird was the greatest trash talker in the history of the game. One ex-player from that era told me that Bird sometimes would start in on the trash talk when going through the layup line. My favorite was a bit he used to give to Charles Barkley: “Hey fat boy, how late were you out last night?”What could Barkley say to that? He knew where he was and how late he was there.

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