Sudden Loyola-ty

Basketball is a beautiful game made ugly by ego. 

In its purest form, it requires only getting the ball to the guy who's open; the guy with the best shot. Done consistently, this will yield an equal-opportunity offense more difficult to defend than the one commandeered by a single player.

And every once in a while, a team capable of this emerges.

In a game better known for egocentric displays of showmanship comes five players who understand and embrace the beautiful simplicity and inherent wisdom of ball movement and spacing.

Not to mention a coach capable of selling it to them.

There are no stars. No celebrity-based sizzle. No whispers of going high in the draft or of guaranteed contracts. Just five guys who win.

The opposition is forced to defend the entire court as opposed to a five-by-five-foot patch inhabited by a me-first superstar driven to take on three opponents every time down the floor in a gambit the house wins nine times out of ten.

(Think Kobe Bryant or a pre-championship Michael Jordan.)

Sharing the ball might lack the adrenaline-spike of a LeBron James dunk over two hapless defenders. But when that dunk is on the losing end of a final score, who really cares? There is nothing spectacular about ending the day with an 'L'.

It's a joy to watch ball movement. It's a joy to watch the team with the ball make the team without the ball rotate until they miss. Or get picked. Then it's ba-BAM! Two points.

Run 'em til they're ragged, indeed.

And on defense, they rotate. They fight through screens. They keep their hands up. They work. They suffocate the opposition's offense. They are a thick, wet woolen blanket. To their opponents, they are no fun.

Earlier in this century, the NBA ran a series of promotional spots that utilized slow-motion isolation of the routine plays that occur in every game: a perfectly-executed bounce pass. A gorgeous give and go. An ankle-breaking crossover dribble.

And of my turnaround jumper.

(OK. Kidding.)

They were brilliant. They were inspired. They illustrated the abundant and poetic beauty to be found in the most-basic, everyday elements of the game. Of beauty flashed before our eyes and gone before we could fully take it in. 

So before this meandering post goes on any longer, let me say that team ball is beautiful. Team ball has rhythm. And that team ball rocks—and rolls.

Go Ramblers!