The Shaq Attack, 2.0

I'm not sure it matters now, but I never came to terms with Shaquille O'Neal. His bruising physicality was in many ways a burden, as fellow players, coaches and NBA executives all saw in him the potential to be The Greatest Player Ever.

No pressure, right?

Without ever having had that kind of pronouncement bestowed upon me, it's hard to understand it fully. But I suspect it was a 24/7 cam of expectation.

And Shaq was pretty good. He led a young Orlando Magic team to the NBA Finals at the age of 22. After jumping ship to join the Los Angeles Lakers (why isn't that a cliche yet?), he and Kobe Bryant formed a powerful duo as the Lakers ran off three consecutive championships in '00, '01 and '02.

But as we saw with the Jordan-era Bulls, success quickly became a game not played on a basketball court. Who was the better player? Who deserved most of the credit? Who was the leader the rest of the team turned to when things got tough?

These squabbles caught fire much quicker in L.A. than they did in Chicago, and the inevitable power struggle between O'Neal and Bryant led to the former leaving Lakerland after the 2003/04 season. That was also the last time Shaq n' Kobe went to the NBA Finals as teammates.

After exhausting the Laker front office with multiple injuries and escalating salary demands, O'Neal was jettisoned to the Miami Heat.

A stellar first season seemed to bode well for his stay in Miami, but before long the all-too-familiar foot/ankle/toe injuries set in. O'Neal managed to play just 59 and 40 games the next two seasons.

He managed a minor comeback in 2008/09 with the Phoenix Suns (playing in 75 games), but the end was clearly near. After a year each with the Cleveland Cavaliers and the Boston Celtics as a second-stringer, he retired.

In the end, O'Neal is a study in contradiction. While his athletic abilities were routinely described as “limitless”, those assessments did not take into account O'Neal's personality. Despite a public persona that was playful—almost childlike—he suffered ruptured relationships with scores of the people he played with and for.

And that's not even taking into account the media.

At the core of those disputes were O'Neal's outsized ego, petulance and a work ethic that frequently left coaches scratching their heads. Lakers' coach Phil Jackson even referred to him as “probably the only player I coached who wasn't a worker.”

Trapped between unlimited physical potential and a personality not hard-wired like Bill Russell's, Larry Bird's or Michael Jordan's, Shaq was almost doomed to fail. No matter how well he played, the perfection of infinity always lay ahead, untouched.

But Shaq's critics had their points. He struggled to hit half his free-throws, a fact which the opposition frequently exploited. And when properly motivated, he could be a monster on defense. Problem was, he wasn't always motivated.

He showed who he could be in the 2000/01 season and was deserving of the MVP trophy as a result. But he never reached those heights again. It appeared he was (gulp) satisfied. Bryant and assistant coach Tex Winter weren't shy about expressing their frustration.

O'Neal's pettiness was spotlighted when he publicly criticized those who elected Sun's guard Steve Nash to consecutive MVP trophies. Nash, a likeable guard who served as the engine for the team nicknamed 'The Solar Express', somehow stole the votes that, by right, were O'Neal's.

Sigh.

And O'Neal did it again recently, using the pulpit afforded him by cable TV's 'NBA on TNT'. Only this time, the thief was Denver Nuggets center Nikola Jokic, who was unfairly awarded his third MVP in four years.

Even more curiously, the two players he openly questioned happen to be white. It could be coincidence, and it could be something else. Not being a social media subscriber, I am ignorant of any opinions he might have offered on Black MVPs.

At any rate, this tempest is certainly interesting. Especially since Nash is a Hall of Famer and—barring a career-ending injury—Jokic will be as well.

It leaves me wondering: is O'Neal projecting his own disappointment over winning a single MVP award onto Nash and Jokic? Maybe he has regrets. Maybe he wishes he had done certain things differently.

If so, welcome to the club, Shaq. Nearly all of us have those thoughts at some point in our lives.

But at the age of fifty-two, I wish you could express those thoughts without besmirching the accomplishments of others.

Many people would say you have enjoyed a disproportionate share of life's gifts. It's a shame that largesse hasn't created in you an equally vigorous sense of graciousness.

You know, the way you were fawned over as a player.

Our Media-Induced Day of Mourning

Let it commence. Let the horror and the sadness and the outrage congeal. Let them seep through our bodies at will. Let us wallow in the unjustness and the horror of it all. Let us question the uncaring and selfish God who allowed this to happen.

Yes, the Los Angeles Lakers have been swept and summarily dismissed from the NBA post-season.

As inconceivable as it seems, the undefeated Lakers were swept by a godless, eighth-seeded team not from Los Angeles, who went 41 – 41 or something. (I don't know—and who cares, anyway?) But they are most certainly not the Lakers. Their shorts aren't even yellow!

The Lakers' 2022/23 campaign was a wire-to-wire thrill ride as they demolished one opponent after another. They constituted a league all by themselves! They deigned to play in the NBA only because a more-celestial option wasn't available.

If you contest any of these facts, you need only to consult the media reports. The Lakers were pre-ordained for greatness. As illustrated by their undefeated season, they had no competition! LeBron James could play with four third-graders and win a title by himself!

And then the post-season began. After slaughtering the Memphis Grizzlies and the Golden State Warriors in consecutive four-game sweeps, they faced off against the legacy-free team not from Los Angeles.

Only four games left until the NBA Finals!

The media remained agog as the Lakers triumphed over both their previous opponents, decisively triumphing in what now amounted to ninety consecutive games! 'Unprecedented' hardly seemed sufficient.

Given their dominance, it wasn't long before the conspiracy theories began. The Lakers were using fans to referee their games. The Lakers supplied unknown substances to the opposition's best players, rendering them unable to play. On and on they went.

The media attempted to refute these groundless accusations. They repeated their mantra endlessly. “They're the Lakers! They're the Lakers! They're the Lakers! They are the face of destiny!”

They went on to name all five starters to the All-NBA Team. Likewise the All-Defensive team. They attempted to name each Laker Rookie of the Year, but for unknown reasons this was not allowed to proceed.

Yes, more indisputable proof that everyone hates the Lakers.

Then the Lakers lost game one of the Western Conference Finals. The outrage was tangible. The media cried and cried. “They would have won that game except for...” I don't believe anyone with a grain or two of sentience would call it journalism.

Collectively, these reports were a rant from a spoiled child. A child upset that, despite their pronouncements, the Lakers could lose. In particular to a rag tag bunch of heathens not from Los Angeles. Oh, the indignity!

And then it happened after game two. And again after game three. Depending on the account, it was sometimes difficult to ascertain who the Lakers' opponent was. The media's wailing over their beloved Lakers was insufferable.

And after last night, you can well imagine. While it is difficult to confirm who will be representing the Western Conference in the NBA Finals, finding out who will not is easier than spending money. In other words, win or lose—the story is the Lakers.

I wear my disdain for them (and their fans) with everlasting pride.

Center Stage Debate

Cheers to the guys at the Athletic, who unanimously voted for Nikola Jokic as the NBA's 2021/22 Most Valuable Player. In the gentlest, most-inoffensive manner possible, I am tempted to ask: why is it even up for debate?

Let me explain.

Way back on October 20^th, Jokic took the court against the Phoenix Suns minus his number-two guy, combo guard Jamal Murray. Murray was (and remains) out for the year with a torn ACL. Eight games later, he lost his number-three guy, small forward Michael Porter, Jr. for the remainder of the season owing to a back injury.

All Jokic did was put these once and future contenders on his sizeable back, work in Murray and Porter's replacements and lead the Nuggets to 48 victories and the number-six seed in the Western Conference.

(Heaping a little irony onto the debate, how ironic is it that in this era when the importance of the center has been marginalized, the three leading candidates for the MVP award are, well centers?)

Yes. You are correct. Giannis Antetokounmpo spent portions of the season without teammates Khris Middleton and Jrue Holiday, even playing out of position in lieu of center Brook Lopez's availability. But do I even need to clarify the difference between 'portions of a season' and 'out for the season'?

Like Michael Jordan, one could cast an MVP vote for Antetokounmpo every season for the remainder of his career and have it be entirely defensible. Except in one as unique as Jokic's.

Seventy-sixer center Joel Embiid is in the thick of the conversation, as well he should be. But compared to Antetokounmpo and Jokic, I have to feel he did less with more. Granted, Ben Simmons' absence was a distraction and an on-court loss, but second-year guard Tyrese Maxey proved to be a more-than-adequate replacement and had to be a delight to all within the 76er organization.

And um, let's not forget Embiid spent a quarter of the season with a guy named James Harden. Yet he won just three more games in a less-competitive conference with a mostly-intact roster than Jokic did in a harder one minus two all-star caliber colleagues.

If the definition of a most valuable player is how badly the team would fare without him, the choice for MVP becomes still-clearer. The 2021/22 Denver Nuggets without Jokic would be the Oklahoma City Thunder.

Philadelphia without Embiid? Milwaukee without Antetokounmpo? Mediocre, but hardly in line for a lottery pick. In the time-honored fashion, Jokic made those around him better. Neither of his competitors could say the same.

Then there is the statistical singularity of Jokic's season. Not even Wilt Chamberlain, ladies and gentlemen. Not even Wilt fucking Chamberlain.

Finally, in a time where everything has become so incredibly polarizing, where every choice takes on the weight of a divisive, gauntlet-lying Supreme Court decision determining the future of western civilization, can we keep in mind this is merely an award given to a professional athlete?

If the professional observers who determine these things don't agree with me, it's fine. My life will continue, as will Nikola Jokic's.

Play on, gentlemen.

Nikola Jokic

Denver Nuggets' center Nikola Jokic looks like the guy who shows up at your house to load your stuff on to a moving van. This impression is cemented by his no-nonsense gaze, squared-off jaw and a haircut which says freshly discharged. Or paroled.

You pity the bartender forced to cut him off.

He's big (7' 0” 250 pounds), but his musculature isn't cut the way so many player's are these days. However, any inferences you draw from his lack of definition are at your own risk. Just ask Enes Kanter.

In contrast, his hands are as soft as a used baseball mitt. They are quick and supple and move with a speed completely at odds with the physique attached to them. When they're not depositing the ball into the basket, they're deftly firing a no-look pass to a forward standing on the wing or sending a letter-perfect bounce pass to a guard streaking towards the hoop.

For someone predisposed to a style of basketball reliant on ball movement and motion, it is a thing of beauty.

Without a post-season appearance, I have been mostly unfamiliar with Mr. Jokic. But minutes into a Nuggets game, it becomes clear how their offense works. He is not only is one of the best-passing big men I've ever seen, but one of the best passers, period.

His passes are sharp and focused. They rarely find their way into opponent's hands. The Golden State Warriors, practitioners of soft, lazy, frequently ill-advised cross-court lobs, could learn from this guy.

Also running counter to type is Jokic's free-throw shooting.

For reasons unknown, many big men struggle at the line. Wilt Chamberlain and Shaquille O'Neal are just two of the literal and figurative giants who could seemingly score with a dozen power forwards hanging from their necks.

But a straight on, uncontested shot fifteen feet from the basket? Nope. Both struggled to make half their free-throws, frequently making far less.

Fortunately, Jokic is better. His career mark stands at eighty-two percent, which removes the temptation of the Nuggets' opposition to employ the hack-a-Shaq routine as tight games draw to a close.

Lastly, would it surprise you to learn that Jokic also has a nice touch from the three-point arc? Although he retrenched from his career-high of .396 a year ago, Jokic demands attention when loitering on the three-point line.

So. Jokic can score. Jokic can pass. Jokic hits his free-throws and is a threat from the three-point line. What can't Jokic do?

We may be decades-removed from the nineteen-nineties, but rumor has it that defense is still played in the NBA. And like so many of his eastern European brethren, every day is business casual Friday when it comes to playing D.

Yes, the rebounding is solid. But no one will ever accuse him of suffocating opposing bigs. Perhaps it's the long shadow cast by Yugoslavia's oppressive Tito regime that keeps Jokic from offending (or defending as it were).

But Jokic is young. And abundantly gifted with what is called basketball IQ, the future is bright. Denver has a talented and cohesive core. They play well together. Can you imagine the league-wide nightmare the Nuggets would be if Kawhi Leonard headed west? Or Anthony Davis?

(Playing in front of Denver's combustible fans would require OSHA-approved hearing protection.)

Perhaps the addition of a bona-fide superstar would spur Jokic to take that final step to unassailable, incontestable greatness. That the scent of a championship would drive him to fulfill this last, empty corner of his potential.

Alas, I am an old man writing about a young one. And I know only too well the cocky arrogance of the youthful male ego. Surrounded by adoring fans, sycophants and ass-kissing agents, Jokic may feel things are fine just the way they are.

That he has come a long way from Serbia and attained the American dream of wealth and fame. What else is there?

It will be interesting to see this story play out.