I. Anticipation
Was I the only one who thought the World Cup would never end? When it finally did, I was just overcoming my inability to watch a game in which a score of three was more amazing than a Luca Doncic triple double.
Just a week after, the NBA was filling Christmas Day with its now customary slate of five (count ‘em: five) games, all chosen to provide the best match-ups, though no amount of planning can anticipate the regular injuries that seem as relentless as climate change, but about which the NBA remains in steadfast denial [1]. This year’s line-up included the resurgent New York Knicks and the still surging (can we say “surgent”?) LeBron James, playing on Christmas Day for the seventeenth time! Notably missing would be Stef Curry, due to injury, and the newly cohesive Brooklyn Nets, the team so many fans love to hate.
Feeling under the weather despite testing negative for COVID, I indulged myself by looking in on all five, now consolidated on a single channel: ESPN. (As usual, viewer convenience trumps anti-trust law). I wasn’t arguing, though: it meant not having to endure Kevin Harlan’s ear-splitting narration on TNT. Jalen Rose, in the booth for half-time comments, evoked legendary and iconic Knick announcer Walt Frazier with a sport coat for the ages, and, thankfully, Stephen A. Smith only appeared during half-time festivities for the later games.
Despite the league’s ever-expanding cadre of outrageously talented players who are flirting with super-star status, I had felt generally bored by my pre-Christmas-showcase glimpses of the NBA, which now has its own channel to supplement the spate of games on ESPN, ABC and TNT, so you can get snippets at almost any time. Mostly, I saw what seemed like track meets interspersed with target practice: random dudes (including Bigs: Giannis, Anthony Davis, LeBron, Brook Lopez), all in unbelievable shape — albeit more subject to injury than ever — shooting threes with reckless abandon, like a great playground run: fascinating to watch, but not for whole games. Their salaries put them in a class together and fuel the sense — the mood, the camaraderie — of a playground run [2].
II. Philly and New York
The Knicks and the Sixers, both on hot streaks, clashed in Mecca (the Garden) to kick off the day’s marathon festivities. Although both teams like shooting threes, both use what these days is an unusual amount of set plays to isolate star players to go one-on-one or execute old fashioned pick and rolls.
This year’s Knicks have been shepherded to apparent legitimacy by the acquisition of Jalen Brunson, as complemented by fellow lefties Julius Randle and R.J. Barrett [3], whereas the Sixers were a rag tag bunch trying their best to adapt to the well-travelled and re-made former MVP James Harden and their marvelous perennial also-ran MVP candidate Joel Embiid, who was averaging a league-leading 33 ppg, and playing with his usual astonishing combination of smoothness, subtlety and raw power.
Fueled by Brunson’s crafty orchestration, Randle’s 25 first half points and Shake Milton’s half court buzzer beater made for a 63-60 first half to warm the hearts of all but the most incorrigible of Scrooges, and the second half assuaged any lingering nostalgic desire I had to watch Europeans and South Americans kick smaller balls around without scoring. Joel Embiid made an interior pass worthy of anything we’ve become accustomed to marveling at from Nikola Jokic, the guy who keeps eating others’ lunch by cutting the line at MVP selection time.
To his sixteen points at half time, the Big Guy added another fifteen in the third quarter, which ended 96-95. Though close all the way, Philly had never led until 101-98. The Knicks had been living by the three, and seemed to be cooling off, as per the old adage “Live by the three, die by the three.” Sixer reserve Georges Niang got hot with two straight (of the four threes he hit in the fourth) to stretch the newly acquired lead that reached 116-102, a lead that not even Santa could erase, especially with Brunson going to the locker room with an apparent strain. It all ended at 119-112, with the Knicks scoring only sixteen in the fourth quarter. Embiid had thirty-five (like Randle), with Harden adding twenty-nine, along with thirteen assists.
III. The Lakers and Dallas: GOATs Young and Old
The Lebron James-Luca Doncic confrontation was emceed by Professor Hubie Brown. In Dallas, could they kill the King? And crown a new GOAT? James tallied ten points in the first six minutes (without a single three) for a 19-6 LA lead, which the Lakers preserved until half-time, when they led 54-43, at which point James had eighteen points and zero turnovers.
But Dallas scored more (fifty-one) in the third quarter than in the entire first half, spurting to a 89-69 lead on nine threes and led 94-75. Even Lebron, who — at thirty-eight- couldn’t bring the lakers all the way back, as Luca posted a near thirty-point triple double (32/9/9). It ended 124-115, but Lebron had shown that he remains at least anyone’s equal; still able to combine brute force with the skill, discipline, and intelligence that have always characterized his two-decade (and counting) NBA career. He now grazes with others, but is not ready to give up being the goat.
IV. MVP Contenders in the Wild East
Eastern Conference heavyweights Boston and Milwaukee, possessors of the league’s two best records, kept the day rolling in a slugfest won by the multitalented Celtics 139-108, with Jason Tatum cementing his early season status as front-runner for MVP honors with a resounding forty-one point performance. Giannis Antetokounmpo had just an ordinary game for him, with twenty-seven points, as Boston romped. Might there be shaping up a coming battle of traditional rivals Boston and Philadelphia for the Eastern Conference title?
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V. Curry Out, Poole In: The Memphis Blues Again
Stef Curry was out (but resplendent on the bench, in a beautifully cut green herringbone sweater), and so was Andrew Wiggins, who made last season’s all-star game, but the Warriors had the supremely cocky Jordan Poole, who thrives on being “The Man” so much you’d suspect he likes seeing Curry out, has already taken Draymond Green’s best punch, and is damn near as good as he seems to think he is.
Plus, Donte DiVincenzo, this year’s prize acquisition, was finally getting a chance to start. Taking the roster spot vacated by crowd favorite Gary Payton II, Villanova’s Donte D has yet to reach his professional peak, but–as his flamboyantly bright orange/pink shoes (would his college coach Jay Wright approve?) attest–he is in a very select circle (with such luminaries as Carmelo Anthony, Danny Manning, and Derrick Rose) of players who completely dominated all or significant portions of NCAA Finals games.
Golden State’s raw young reserves (DiVincenzo, Jonathan Kuminga, James Wisemen, Ty Jerome, and Moses Moody) struggled earlier this year, but they are much too talented not to come together as the season progresses. Per veteran Bay Area sports pundit Bruce Jenkins, they will gradually learn to master Steve Kerr’s development-friendly system, as beloved Klay Thompson’s improved conditioning enables him to regain the greater part of his all-around game.
Memphis brought star power in Ja Morant, one of very few entirely unique stars to have reached the NBA sky, and Ja flew high and freely for twenty-two first half points. Poole had twenty, but picked up a senseless technical foul, squandering several points of Golden State’s half-time margin, which finally was 59-54. An 11-0 third quarter run made it 91-77, with little-used reserve Ty Jerome contributing ten. The quarter ended 99-84, with Poole already having thirty-two, before foolishly exiting with another technical, his team up sixteen. No matter: Golden State prevailed handily: 123-109.
VI. Saving the Best for Last
For the final game, pitting the Phoenix Suns against Denver’s Nuggets, we were treated to the excellent commentary of Richard Jefferson, who did not want for aggressiveness as a player, but comes across as being an utterly sincere nice guy who takes palpable empathic pleasure in watching his old compadres perform. Adaptable as could be, he was paired in the booth with a highly excitable woman who seemed intent on becoming Doris Burke’s clone.
The Nuggets’ 7’ 284 pound former water polo goalie–Nikola Jokic–is a truly unique player who’s won consecutive MVP’s the last two years, after definitively launching himself in the 2020 Western Conference Finals against the eventual champion Lakers during the Bubble Year [4]. Now he has old team-mate Jamal Murray back, along with Aaron Gordon and Michael Porter, Jr., to form a team once again ready to be a championship contender.
Plodding gracefully up and down the floor, Jokic is actually doing a whole different thing than playing American-inflected basketball. Whereas fellow Euro star Luka Doncic stretches, massages, and contracts the game’s rhythms, Jokic is like a counselor directing the movements of entire troops of hyperactive campers. He seems not so much to sense as simply to be–or perhaps to swallow–a game’s rhythm [5]. To turn a cliché inside-out, he is poetry without much motion.
Behind throughout previously, Denver fought back to tie Phoenix at 84. At 113-113, it went into overtime, which, to my own amazement, I cheerfully welcomed. It was riveting. Things finished in Denver’s favor 128-125, with Murray excelling down the stretch, suggesting that he may be that second star that championship contenders all need. Denver stood at 21-11.
Jokic padded his numbers all the way to 41 15/15 (on 16-25 shooting), as Jefferson opined that The Joker had–with this game–become the frontrunner for MVP [6], the stunning games that Embiid and Tatum had played earlier in the day notwithstanding. If Jokic wins that third MVP award, perhaps he should instead be given a whistle, and let someone take off with the trophy.
After five games and an overtime, I found myself wondering about penalty kicks, but, to my very pleasant surprise, I felt like a real fan again.
NOTES
1 The Brooklyn Nets did not make the NBA’s Christmas roster, but are currently the league’s hottest team, after welcoming back Kyrie Irving after yet another episode in his cancerous journey through Eastern Conference franchises, after trashing Cleveland and Boston, as well as having advanced Neanderthal-like views on both social (Jews deserve the hatred and persecution they’ve suffered) and scientific (the world is flat) questions.
Before their resurgence, the Nets appeared eager to trade him, as Ben Simmons’ return meant that he would in effect become the “off guard, not his preferred position, and that Irving would appeal more to a franchise that needed a point guard, but Brooklyn’s new coach Jacques Vaughn seems to have created cohesion where none was thought possible. Seemingly free of the demons that plagued him in Philadelphia, Simmons looks wonderful, his face once again possessed of the childlike twinkle that brands him pure and makes one sympathize with his having had problems (like stage fright) hardly different from others whom we would not think to deride.
Kyrie’s persistent presence on the world’s apparently flat stage seems of a piece with that of such kindred soul-less souls as Elon Musk and Donald Trump. All three appear to rest confident that- if not by the minute- suckers are born the world over, and there is no lack of victims stupid enough to court being trolled.
2 The continuous up and down flow put me in mind of the time (nearly five decades ago) when I first encountered my late friend Roy, then 41, a superb Black athlete in unbelievable shape. Still strangers to one another, one mid-morning weekday, we were each alone shooting at opposite baskets of an otherwise empty YMCA gym, and I asked him if he’d like to play one-on-one. He responded “half or full?” Shocked, I decided to go along with his suggestion of “full,” and eventually came to love the rhythmic feel of going up and down, playing only shadow position defense and taking shots that conscience would ordinarily not allow. We’d play four games to twenty-five baskets in about an hour. I found my range increasing dramatically from what came to be our regular games, which gradually expanded to 2 on 2, 3 on 3, and even 4 on 4, as others watched briefly and eagerly drank the Kool-Aid: defense optional, all shots are good ones, and you score lots and lots of points. Damn!
3 Barrett’s stellar play recently occasioned Walt Frazier to remark – inimitably- “using his omnipotence; improvising, mesmerizing.”
At the center position, the Knicks feature another lefty- Isaiah Hartenstein- as back up to Mitchell Robinson whose dominant hand is his right, but whose shot makes one wonder and imagine him a lefty too. Just who authorized his wearing “23”?
4 Reference: Liss, R. 2020, Downhill in the Bubble: Does the NBA’s Life Matter? – First of the Month
5 In a different sense, Chris Paul’s relation to his Phoenix Suns resembles that of Jokic’s to the Nuggets.
6 Either he’ll join Wilt, Russ, and Larry as three-peaters, or he’ll suffer Lebron’s fate after winning consecutive MVP’s (twice, actually; four in five years that should have been five straight, but Derrick Rose had such a great year that he had to be rewarded, so they gave Lebron the year off. Unlike Trump, Bron accepted the steal: let others share the wealth).
After his second repeat, Kevin Durant was given a turn. Then might have come another pair, but then Lebron had to step aside for an iteration of Curry that in no way was imagined to be the equal of Lebron on an individual level: but there is also the notion of rewarding the winners by naming one of their ilk most valuable. That was Stef, and a repeat is in some ways easier than securing one’s first. Steve Nash was a dubious and highly sentimental choice (prefiguring Curry) for his first MVP, but clearly would not have had a shot at it the next year, had he not been the incumbent.
Such sentimental/philanthropic attitudes may explain why Lebron was denied in the bubble year, his last title season, when he and Anthony Davis dominated together. A strange and atypical year in all ways, awards were hard to rationally distribute, so it went to the incumbent: Antetokounmpo, also a candidate to become the GOAT, although, in his case, GIRAFFE might be more apt.