Stand up and give thanks

Lamar Blogom celebrates its first Thanksgiving with a feast fit for a king. The seazon has so far yielded bountiful treasures with the promise of many more to come. So, we list 24 things that we are thankful for:

1. Andrew Bynum becoming Big Pussy and flashing strands of future greatness.
2. ATLanta proving that you can win games with a roster of only people 6'7" or 6'8".
3. The Heat collapsing in on themselves like some kind of aging supernova.
4. Starbury's Starburies.
5. Nate Robinson swatting Yao Ming.
6. Yao Ming, best center in the league.
7. Kevin Garnett, tortured soul in search of absolution.
8. Amare's return.
9. Josh Smith.
10. Gerald Wallace.
11. Brendan Haywood's favorite movie is Coming to America.
12. CP3 and Weezy F. Baby bringing back the N.O.
13. Chris Bosh making game winning 3s.
14. Don Nelson taking over the Yay Area.
15. Monta Ellis.
16. Jerry Sloan fashioning a sleek new version of Old School.
17. Kaveman's hair.
18. TMac is healthy.
19. Darko (almost) dominant.
20. Grant Hill's ankles are intact.
21. Mamba's newfound efficiency.
22. JR Smith, NBA starter.
23. Ron Ron is still playing.
    
24. Lamar Odom beginning to fathom his own depths.
    

Pleasures abound

Tuesday was a special time in Lamar Blogom history; it was the first game ever attended with Lamar distinctly in mind. Of course, he decided to freak the joint up.

Someone who did the opposite of freak the joint up was Mamba. We've discussed him before, way back in June of 2006 A.D. What we did not discuss is his insane artistry and newfound efficiency. His knee surgery, which sidelined him for the first two games of this year and still probably continues to limit him even as he composes his unique art on the basketball court. While he usually paints masterpieces full of fluidity and graceful brushstrokes, it is as if he has been handed watercolors with which to replicate the Mona Lisa.

After he drove Shaq from the mix, the masses decried him as a traitorous snake in the grass. He remains a petulant force to be contended with--see Game 7 of last year's 1st round for example--but despite or perhaps because of his balance of maturity and childishness Mamba rises above the hapless flocks with his scoring genius.

His 2004 was of disastrous proportions, aided and abetted by the non-factor of Rudy Tomjonavich and his later illness-induced substitute Frank Hamblen. Reunited with the Wizard of Hollywood, Mamba saw his star rise anew, outshining even his former Shaq-fu-aided greatness. At times he seemed to transcend the sport itself as he glided about the hardwood, throwing in baskets from insane angles with approximately half the damn Staples Center in his grill.

Mamba's frenzied bloodlust crested in the month-long stretch in which he dropped 62 and 81 on the Mavs and Raps, respectively. Afterwards, perhaps fueled by his teammates' emergence as a force viable of the master's consideration, he receded slightly from the spotlight. Not to say that he did not still own the court like a lion tamer, but he allowed others to bask in his glorious glow as he gallivanted about on his holy quest.
Shaq-fu was the first of the legendary duo to recapture former glory without the other, but he did so at the hands of the Devil himself, Dwyane Wade. The referees aided and abetted Shaq in his quest for greatness. They did no such favor for his former teammate and nemesis, as he found himself robbed of a game-changing bucket in the waning moments of Game 1.

That is beside the point. The point is that even as Mamba finds himself limited by a bum knee and tough conference, he will reinvent himself and his teammates to rise above the unwashed horde in a quest for absolution. Perhaps it won't come this season, but as Andrew "Big Pussy" Bynum grows and matures along with Turiaf the Beast, his conflict will be resolved with a success so resounding as to shake the foundations of the sport to their core.

If a homey's still moving, he's holding it down

Alright, I admit that the title of this post is quoting Lil' Wayne's fiery track "Georgia Bush". I also admit that "homey" was a completely different word in the track, a word that shouldn't be tossed around by whitey.

The subject of this post isn't the revitalization of N.O., nor is it something about the durrrty in general. No, Lamar throws his gaze to Phila, where AI is currently keeping it real as shit. A teenage was shot because he refused to give up his Answer jersey to a group of ruffians, and now Answer is paying for his funeral. Among all the things A.I. has done in his career, this is without a doubt the most noble and selfless. Well, duh.

We've talked about Iverson before, but in the context of Team USA and their doctrine of dominance. Now, his relationship to the Lig at large is examined.

I've never enjoyed watching Allen Iverson. Perhaps it's the Finals appearance against my beloved Lakers in 2001, or maybe I harbor some latent feelings of supressed racism, but his game is generally without aesthetic merits as far as I'm concerned.

That does not mean that he is without import to the Lig. Entirely the opposite--because he makes whitey so uncomfortable by fearlessly repping his thug/gangsta image, he is demonized in whatever he does. The conventional wisdom is that he doesn't share the ball enough because he's too "street," or that he hot-dogs too much for his own damn good.
One of those criticisms is perhaps true: for all his merits, Iverson didn't tend to share the ball around a whole lot until two years ago. But both deny the man's insane toughness and win-at-all-costs sensibility. Iverson should, by all rights, be revered by the Right Way NBA for his bulldog mentality. Dude tosses his 6'0"-and-skinny frame into the fires of war each and every time he rides onto the hardwood, but cannot shake the demonic marker that has been so cruelly placed upon his slender shoulders. No matter how hard he attacks the bucket, he will forever be regarded as a ballhog showoff who just happens to have played for some damn good basketball teams.

When Larry Brown, that paragon of righteous basketball, helmed the 76ers, Iverson was faced with a constant battle. Although Brown clearly acknowledged that Iverson could and should be the only scoring option on the team, there were mighty battles waged in the press between the two. Iverson's famous practice speach is just one small example of their ongoing struggle.

What cannot be ignored about their pairing is that it worked. Kinda. They made the damn Finals in 2001 with nothing beyond Iverson, Aaron McKie, and Dikembe Mutombo on either end of the floor. Iverson did nothing less than single-handedly win every game for the 76ers, dragging them by their struggling hair into some version of the promised land.

They fell short, and Larry was greeting with resounding praise for his fabulous job wringing success from what should have been a fruitless measure. The praise fell upon the wrong head. For all of his flaws, and they are many and multifarious, Iverson holds shit down on the offensive end. Sacrificing your body 82 games (and more) at a time is a measure that should not, by rights, be undertaken by an individual that could be described as shrimpy.

However, because of Answer's heart, lungs, and brains, he does that shit daily, with little help from any of his compatriots.

Can't get up like you need Viagra

K-Mart is something of a polarizing presence in the NBA. On the one hand, he is a player whose sucess is predicated on bland hustle and ridiculous bounce. On the other, he was suspended for the playoffs as a result of badmouthing George Karl and the rest of the Nugs in the press.

What no-one can dispute is that he's about to miss the rest of the season with a continuation of knee problems. As anyone who has ever played basketball knows, the knee is key to basic functionality on the court. It is even more key for someone whose value is predicated on the fact that he can jump out the damn gym.
KMart is an interesting player for both systems in which he has played in his career. On the Nets, JKidd uncaged his shit like an animal. KMart is at his best when he acts as a conduit for a more creative force. Most players of his type (explosive bangers with few other basketball skills) are merely paintbrushes for the maestros that they should be playing next to. He was the perfect brush for Kidd's creative style--he's a moderately fast player with bounce out the building.

His lack of other skills are incidental: Kidd has such a catalogue of moves and deceptions, but lacks the ability to score. Perhaps because he feels he should embody the purest of pure points that he so disdains developing a reputable J, but the fact is that his jumper is merely adequate for professional ball. Sure he can make the occaisional 3 or two, but he never takes the game over on the offensive like his Canadian counterpart.It is Kidd's non-presence on the scoring end of the offense that makes KMart such a valuable counterpoint to his oblique attack. Martin was the exlamation point to Kidd's run-on sentence. Kidd is unique in the regard that he had only one means of punctuation available to him both times he went to the Finals. KMart and RJ provide only exclamation points as resolution to Kidd's creations. By contrast, Steve Nash has an arsenal of punctuation at his disposal and finds himself continually short of the perfect story. He can construct a hell of a sentence, but his attack seems sometimes to meander, to lack the incisiveness that so defined the New Jersey championship runs.

KMart was somewhat of a different type player in Mile High. Rather than serving as a piece of creation for a maestro, he was now expected to help define a team with his supreme athleticism. As we have established, he is the type best served to be the subjects of creation, not its master. Martin was hopelessly overmatched in his role, but still managed to bang out some semi-impressive shit. Andre Miller is no Jason Kidd, but his amateur scribblings found an excellent instrument in Martin.

The occaisonal flying slams were interrupted by periods of seemingly unending boredom. Although he's capable of some basic hustle plays (rebounds, diving for loose balls, looking worn out,) KMart was not near the contributor, nor the max-type player that the Nuggets envisioned. Melo's emergence has done nothing to help his case. No longer the top option on offense, KMart was instead forced to contribute on defense only. It wasn't as if he was the greatest #1 option, but he had his damn pride, right?

From thence the explosion came. From thence his knee decided to quit. From thence, the Nuggets are totally fucked.

Coming at you like Adebisi

We shoulda seen it coming. Dude tosses down a slam to be reckoned with on Shaq-fu and then has the gall to trade elbows with Shaq on his way downcourt. This one play seems to arbit greatness more so than a single game, even more than a single playoff series. It seemed no accident that Bynum took his schooling, sprinted downcourt, and made Shaq-fu his little prison bitch.
Enter this season: the Lakes' two top centers go down with assorted injuries, leaving only the untest Bynum to man the middle. Conventional wisdom says the Lakes are in serious goddamn trouble. Of course, Bynum is destined for greatness.

The only things holding him back are foul-proneness and PhilJax' notorious fickleness when it comes to young players. Bynum is far from a grizzly vet; at this point in his life he might be too full of enthusiam to contribute to a winning effort on a consistent basis. But that enthusiasm that holds him back also drives him forward, making him the semi-unstoppable force that he now is. If he continues to mature (and calm down) he will become what the Bulls only imagined when they called the name Edward Curry way back when.
Dude has an impressive motor, especially at his size. He's 7'0" and seems to have no trouble jumping and rejumping to either board or block with the other bigs. Basically, he's Dennis Rodman in Shaq-fu's body, but without the requisite craziness of the former, or the mumbling monolithicness of the latter. His game is predicated more on the boyish pursuit of acceptance from his teammates than Rodman's Lust for Life or Shaq's big bully dominance.

Bynum's maturation may bring untold wonders, or it may drag him down into the depths of Currydom, destroying his boyish joy for the game of basketball along with its mellowing and seasoning effects. If he can find some way to convince PhilJax to play him more often, perhaps that enthusiasm will remain, though tempered by the dulcet tones of sweet experience.

P.S. Andrew is in serious need of a nickname. Comment with you ideas.

Fix What Ails Ya

The ATL makes up for its constant musical rennaissance by being somewhat of a dead spot for professional sports--at least of late. The Braves saw their million year run as objects of dominance come to a crashing close, Mike Vick alternates athletic ascendancy with moments of purest trash, and the Hawks have fallen like stones ever since the Human Highlight Reel took his talents elsewhere.

Here at Lamar Blogom, we do not concern ourselves with the trivialities of baseball or football (and certainly not hockey or NASCAR). That leaves one possible topic of discussion; the STATlanta Hawks.
The Hawks represent an interesting paradox--nearly everyone on their roster is between the heights of 6'5" and 6'9", which includes the mean NBA height. (I think its somewhere around 6'6", just below 6'7".) The point is that their roster is composed entirely of the type of slasher/banger that so defines what is good and pure about NBA basketball. Unfortunately, the Hawks have found that with a roster with such a unique composition that competition in this NBA is damn near impossible. Three times in the last three years, they have floundered somewhere below mediocracy, with only small steps toward achieving that legitimacy that every organization strives for. Yes, even the Knicks.

Yes, they have screamed out the gate like a damn freight train this year, with Joe Johnson behaving like a latter day Kobe, Josh Smith getting his freak on (I recommend searching "Josh Smith putback" on YouTube and observing the majesty), and Speedy ClaxTron holding shit down from the point guard position. But we must ask ourselves how long they can keep up the kind of breakneck pace typically reserved for future NBA champions.

But, we came here to bury Caesar, not to praise him. So begins the season, now find out how it should continue.The Hawks need to completely revolutionize three spots on their roster: PG, PF, and C. They must cast down Shelden Williams, Zaza Pachulia, and relegate the ClaxTron to the bench where he belongs. The changes I am about to lay out are not easy, nor should the be construed as such. Rather, they are the type of high-risk, high-reward manuevers that Belkin et. al. should be engaging in right about now.



#1: Get Shaun Livingston.

I said this shit wasn't gonna be easy, and this is certainly the least easy of any of the suggestions I'm laying out. It is, however, the most significant. In acquiring Livingston, the Hawks would be getting themselves a dude who knows how to distribute, knows how to run, and knows how to be a physical freak. Dude is a 6'7" PG, which molds perfectly with the stringent characteristics required for future Hawkdom. To get him, it's probably gonna cost an unprotected 1st rounder and a valuable piece. They should do it at the drop of the hat--he would give their offense purpose and direction by his very existence on the floor. Also, he's 6'7". Ridiculous.

#2: Lay hands on J.R. Smith.
This facet of their plan will be significantly easier than part no. 1. Smith has a rep as a undisciplinable free spirit obsessed with his own stats and tossing down incredible dunks. In reality, most of this is probably true, but the Hawks should pair him up with the man who could very well be his brother in disguise. In the process, they'll fuck up anybody even moderately confused at the distinction between JSmoove and J.R. Also, they grab someone fairly deadly from 3, someone who flies out the building, and someone else who's 6'7". Start him alongside Shaun, Joe, Josh, and the Center to be Named Later or bring his bad self off the bench, he will bring another superathletic, young body to terrify the other team with.


#3: The Center Position
There's some debate circling about Lamar Blogom HQ about how exactly they should solve their woes at the 5 spot. The list is down to 5 candidates (appropriately):

1. Tyrus Thomas
2. Stromile Swift
3. Boris Diaw
4. Lamar Odom
5. Chris Wilcox

Each has their own special strengths and flaws. Of the set, Stro would be the easiest to come by. He, however, brings a rep for being a big softy and not praciticing hard enough to make a tangible difference in a game. If the Hawks can harness his multifarious talents, they would have a testament to the athleticism of the human body on their hands.

They could go in another direction, acquiring a toolsy amoeba-type like Diaw or Odom to hold down the middle. These two both have the skillset to distribute the ball, set screens, rebound, and occaisionally score their own selves when the time comes. I know Diaw used to be a Hawk. Bad on them, and they should try their damndest to wring him away from the Suns.

If they fail in all of these quests except the one for Swift, they may consider it a victory if they can harness his considerable talents into a being that bangs on the offensive end of the floor, swats on the defensive end, and generally is just a complete badass.