come and gone

i had the idea that i would do a rundown of what some possible rumors and their implications were pre-deadline, but was so anemic that any discussion of like vague possibilities was simply not a thing i could summon the courage to commit electronic media. instead of getting coverage about the might-as-well-have-not-existed trading deadline, you'll be hearing about why i love the phx suns.

here it is:

when phoenix traded starbury to nyk at the beginning of isiah's tenure, many people had the idea that his departure would do two things:

1. elevate new york to a collection of playground heroes capable of doing serious damage once they reached the playoffs.
2. relegate phoenix to lottery hell, an inescapable fate.

we now know that the exact opposite is true, especially after phoenix "overpaid" for steve nash. who then promptly became someone that should be counted among the all-time great point guards. yeah, maybe he shouldn't have won the mvp 2 years running, but his reinvigoration of the previously moribund nba cannot and should not be ignored.

my love, and peter's love, for the suns could be described as unconditional. even when they were slaying my lakers in a brutal 7-game indictment of kobe bryant's supporting cast and i felt as though each passing moment was a twisting of the knife, i reveled in their incredible floor spacing and passing ability. in that series at least, they made basketball look like a serious art form. they didn't have STAT, but painted a masterpiece in spite of, or perhaps because of his absence.

now that he's returned, nash is seriously even better than in his previous two campaigns. they still run fools off the court non-stop, but now there is someone to get me out of my seat. every game they play is a shout-fest as one sun or another receives a pinpoint pass from the canadian commie and throws in through the hoop with reckless abandon. when nash brings the ball up the court, we know that something incredible is bound to happen.

we know with all of our hearts that he will will will find someone slashing to the basket or someone spotting up, toes just north of the three point line, or he will take it himself, defying the laws that say white boys shouldn't be able to take it in where the big men lay.

basically the entire team is a slap in the face of those who say you can't win in the playoffs with a run-and-gun style, those that say a team that is fundamentally international in nature can't compete with our own home-grown american boys, and all those that proclaim the nba is a league of individuals. the mavs might be a supreme collection of individual talent wrapped up in the premise of team ball, but the suns are the direct apothesis of the 90s-era player-as-team dogma.