Fallow no longer

It is time to break Lamar's silence. In part caused by the general uninterestingness of the Lig this summer (is Bonzi Wells dead?) and in part due to increased workload now that school has rolled around, Lamar has been relatively reticent of late.

No longer.

Consider this the first post of a new era.
AI's denial by USA basketball has to rank either as the number one or two disaster of the summer. Agent Zero's injury/cut/subsequent explosion was bad, but not of the magnitude of the Answer being denied.

Dude busted his ass for Team USA in Athens and is repayed with a curt "Fuck you" when he asked, nay, begged, to be included in Colangelo's grand experiment on the international stage.
The Answer's snub reveals all that we should have seen coming. AI is the quintessence of Young, Black, and Fabulous. Even as he begins to decay, his conrows still hold the threat of unmitigated thuggery in its most primitive form. In short, he is still the most BAMF in the Association, perhaps more than dear Ronald because of his lack of explosion.

Latent energy is more potent than that exposed; his lack of explosion (save the "practice" speech) has dumbfounded a ruling class incapable of viewing Street as anything more than dealing crack and robbing old ladies.
Colangelo's Doctrine of Dominance runs counter to everything AI represents. He is not concerned with dominating the game with shock and awe--big dunks and the like. Rather, he is content to operate outside the normal boundaries of the law. Answer ignores the niche to which he should be regulated, drawing a healthy dose of hate from the right way contingent in process.
His transcendent ignorance is exactly what Team USA needed. It was filled by an essentially Right Way cast of characters--heady folk not as concerned with their stats as the functioning of the team as a whole. Their failure on a world stage is as much of an indictment of the Right Way as Athens was.

That's right, Athens.

Olympics 2004 proved what everyone should have already known. It proved that prejudice against prototypical Young Black Males is the most misguided sentiment of all time; Melo and Lebron barely tasted the floor, while Larry was content to watch his team struggle to adapt to the Right Way that he so cherished.

His inflexibility told us volumes about him and predicted his subsequent failure with the New York Knicks with stunning accuracy.
For all of importance on the world stage, Iverson also tells us about ourselves. He shows us the true nature of the underdog, the one we should all rally behind like so many moths to a flame. He shows us that no matter how big the heart, how big the fight in the dog, there will always be someone around to tell us to hate that dog because it makes them feel insecure in their White Anglo-Saxon Protestant manhood.

Iverson is everything that the Right Way folks tell us should be, but with a casing so repellent to their blinkered gaze as to make them blind to his glory.

Decay

That's what happened to USA Basketball. I didn't see it coming. Chris Sheridan saw it coming. Whatever.

The reasons for their demise are unclear, maybe it's shooting, maybe it's size inside, maybe it's the philosophy of the coaching staff, but some shit needs to get solved before Athens repeats itself. Hopefully Kobe and Chauncey and Amare can solve these issues.

This is an important commercial and doubles as the last time it was acceptable to like Stephon Marbury

Right hand men

Koach K and Kolangelo have created a Team USA seemingly unmatched in international competition. Italia came the closest, but ultimately found itself lacking when Carmelo took the opportunity to self-actualize his potential mastery of all things FIBA.

The Doctrine of Dominance K set up since day one has payed its dividends, Team USA looks like an irresistable force moving towards ultimate victory on the world stage. However, the roots of the Doctrine of Dominance draw water from concerning locations.
Their belief that America can continue to dominate the world is one based in an old mode of thinking. It hearkens back to the Two Superpower era of the Cold War, ignoring the fractured and diverse beast that the world stage has become. The United States government faces a similar battle of understanding; unilateralism may have worked in 1992, but it sure as hell won't in 2006.

A key misunderstanding is the assumption that the rest of the world will continue to be cowed by the mere presence of such NBA luminaries as King James, DWyade, and Lo. The world simply does not care. It looks upon such players not as gods, but as the men they are.

When Kolangelo-K realize their error in judgement and addopt a less jingoistic view of the world, America will truly rise to power.

Take down your banners

Team USA shitted all over Australia, Chris Sheridan ran a piece about how the international media was raving about their play, a FIBA World Cup championship seems to be in the cards, and nothing has been decided.

Sure, USA has been nice. But they're no Dream Team, and there are three or four squads still in the tourney that can knock them straight back to Indianapolis. Their run looks like it's gonna proceed as follows:



Round of 8 Germany
Dirk headlines a squad that might be tough to knock out, but they lack depth, and the USA should skate right over them.

Round of 4 Greece
The Greek team is the European champion, and a team that the international community is very interested in seeing America play. They seem more of a challenge than Germany- they're deeper and have more experience in the international game.

Championship Argentina or Spain
Both teams feature NBAers at the top of their lineups. Both are the consensus favorites to upset the US if such an upset is forthcoming. Both have their flaws; Pau looked rattled after playing a physical Serbian squad, and Manu's bitch-ass-travel-and-then-fall-over move doesn't translate well to the international game.

Salute the Flag

Team USA's undefeated drive through the Group stage of the tournament is kind of impressive, sure. Although many could and have predicted such a romp, it was not without its road bumps. Italy gave them a run, even in a rebuilding year. Brazil also tested them, led by Leandrinho Barbosa and lost by less than 10.

While it is a victory of sorts that I would look at such a loss and shake my head, wondering how the opposition came so close, none of these games should have been in doubt. As the commentators mentioned in the Italy game, Argentina and Germany both have larger margins of victory, a good test of overall team excellence.

The USA might be somewhat of a paper tiger; their squad is the most impressive and dominant in the tournament field judged solely on the names involved. However, Koach K's insistence on the pressure man-to-man defense could eventually be their undoing.

While Team USA does have impressive turnover and fast break points numbers, its FG% allowed and opponent's points per game are found lacking. Not to say that such statistics tell the tale of their dominance or downfall, but they do help point in the right direction. America might be better served switching into a zone defense similar to Jim Boeheim's at Syracuse. Maybe the intensity could be ramped up a little, but the 2-3 would force opposing teams into more outside shots. Thus, more long rebounds. Thus, more fast breaks. Thus, more opportunities for LeBron to embarrass people like this:

More tomorrow on the roots of K's and Colangelo's philosophy of dominance.

Snakes on a Motherfucking Plane

Sam Jackson is now the official actor of Lamar.

His work is superb, like in Pulp Fiction.

Also, Motherfucking Snakes on a Motherfucking Plane.

Anyways, on to Drew Gooden.
Drew has a name similar enough to Dwight Budden (featured on a Madden sountrack now beyond memory) that I got their names confused on a consistent basis.

Drew's game is so unremarkable that it becomes remarkable in and of itself. There is no more vanilla player in the whole of the NBA; he rebounds, scores, and intimidates with equal unremarkability. It seems fitting that he would be paired up opposite LeBron--a man destined to be a god among men.

Every hero must have his protection, every night his shining armor. That armor needn't be too flashy; the quality of the hero should be measured by his might, not by his shield.

Not to say that LeBron should press forward with inadequate or antiquated equipment--KG and KB24 have proven such a quest is fraught with nothing but peril and ridicule. Rather, he should wear a suit of armor that does nothing to add nor subtract from his overwhelming splendor.



Drew Gooden, combined with Larry Hughes and Zydrunas Ilgauskas, is a suit so vanilla, so ordinary, that it becomes extraordinary in its regularity. None of those men is capable of dominating a game on his own, allowing LBJ to rise up like the Basketball Mohammed that he is.

This says everything you need to know about USA basketball, especially in these next few weeks

Microfracture is the new Tommy John

Amare Stoudemire is the Phoenix Suns. Correction on that: he was and will be the Phoenix Suns.

Quiet simply, he is the second most important and influential big man ever to play in the NBA. Correction: he could be.

If Amare comes back like Jordan, it will be to punctuate a Suns attack that had increasingly become a run-on sentence. There were no periods save the occasional Marion throwdown, but even then his dunks were more of a semicolon. Shooting 3s is terrific and wonderful and great, but what once seperated the Suns from their Supersonic brethren was their ability to halt their attack so that the beast that occupied the middle could take some time out to demolish the rim.

Amare's return could mark the Suns' reclamation from the world of the circus freakshow. Steve Nash's performance in the Playoffs was gutty and spectacular and blah blah blah. His performance carried a bemused smirk as he dribbled around Lakers and Clippers and Mavericks en route to open 3s and layups, but he seemed always on the verge of collapse. Twice he carried his team to Game 7and twice they succeded. However, without Amare, Nash was forced to be a working man's hero, a role he does not embrace.
Amare's return means that Nash can return to the princely duties to which he is more accustomed. No more must he stain his manicured fingernails with grease and sweat as he operates the heavy machinery necessary to win basketball games.

I've got nothing to say

Now is the dead zone.

Nothing of note happens save the theoretical. Big ups to Free Darko to find rage in the tiniest of things (who knew Jared Jeffries was so polarizing?)

That being said, its time to talk about my sleeper: the Orlando Magic.

Led by Horseboy, the Magic are poised to wrest the Eastern crown from the weakening Heat and suddenly beyond-mortal Pistons. They have the horses--double figuratively--and if JJ Reddick heals up in time to become a decent pro, he could stretch the defense enough for Horseboy to do his damage down low.

An unheralded addition to their lineup is the Great White Mystery of Darko Milicic. Say what you want about him, but he has not had the depths of potential even remotely plumbed. Burying him on the Detroit bench was a bad move, but swapping him for Kelvin Cato was a worse one, especially now that Detroit desperately needs someone of his stature to occupy the middle now that Afroman has departed for the windy city.

(Aside: Is it possible that B-Walls will be picked up by the wind due to the drag created by his 'fro?)
Now is the first year when Grant Hill's health has not determined their contender status. Even if he contracts more knee and ankle disease, Hedo Turkoglu is another defense stretching solution.

Jameer Nelson is one of the best cheap players in the league. Unspectacular on offense, but a steady hand at the point and on defense, Jameer is the not the type of player to lead a team to the promised land. He is, however, exactly the type of player not to lead them away from it.

The Magic are a team in no need of a powerful personality outside of Horseboy, who may or may not harness his skills in time to allow his teammates to jump on his back. And besides, he may not even have to--if Darko shows up as the Dirko we thought him to be way back when Horseboy's load will be dramatically reduced.

The Dirty (Half) Dozen

Where would a ridiculous team with no basis in reality be without a bench?

Nowhere, that's where.

So for today's column, I give my fantasy soldiers some reserves with which to galavant into battle.


G: Eddie House

Thug sets the world alight like no other when his J drops. He wasn't a world beater in the playoffs, but he's a monster on the way there.

Maybe the Suns needed to work harder to get him open shots, maybe they needed to run him off of screens more, maybe they needed to have him on the floor more often, but something didn't work.

That's why he's on the bench.

G/F: Andre Iguodala

The other AI, a defensive wizard with mad hops and a penchant for throwing down dunks that would make Shawn Kemp say "Damn!"

He deserves a spot on this squad if for nothing other than his hammer blows to the rim, but when you add in the ability to lock down on opposing shooting guards and small forwards, you have a guaranteed spot and a seven year contract.


F: Chris Wilcox

We'll call him the Professor. I think he needs a sweet nickname. Plus, Chris Wilcox just seems like a name for which that nickname is suited.

Nicks aside, he runs the floor, rebounds, blocks, dunks things, and generally creates havock. That type of person is good to have around, especially if he's just coming out of his shell.

His improvement might not be Dwight Howard-esque, but he might develop into a dead man's Amare Stoudemire. Even if he never learns to play defense properly, who wouldn't love to have a supersized dude nicknamed the Professor flying around?


F: Udonis Haslem

If there's one thing I love, it's undersized power forwards. If there are two things I love, they are undersized power forwards named Udonis.

He was the unsung hero of Game 6 of the NBA Finals; the Heat wouldn't have had a chance without his retarded 15-foot Js that looked they were never going to fall.

Udon also doubles as the only member of the Heat I would not glare at if I passed him on the street. Dwyane can't even spell his name right and now he's Finals MVP? Come on.


G: Mickael Pietrus

On the squad for his defensive wizardry if nothing else. As a huge bonus, if he ever figures out how to play offense, we have a latter-day Kobe on our hands.

That's a lie, but if you know someone who started as only being good at defense and then evolved into a threat on the offensive end, please let me know and I will change it.

G: Marquis Daniels

You may remember good 'Quis as the only Maverick to show up for Game 6. You may also remember him as the subject of Avery Johnson's curious decision to bench the most productive scorer on the floor.

He made White Chocolate and Dwyane Wade look like the bitches they deserve to look like on a nightly basis.

Then, he was traded for Austin Croshere.

There is no good explanation for someone with sick driving and some point guard skills should be shipped off for a do-nothing whiteboy who has his run of glory 8 years ago in college.

G: Bobby Jackson

Maybe I missed something. Did Bobby Jackson kill someone's dog?

For some reason, he went from ridiculously talented backup to shitkicker that no-one would touch. I can detect no reason other than pet slaughter to justify his free fall from grace.

He's a steady hand backing up the point, one who can stroke the occasional 3, pass the ball to the open man, and penetrate the paint when necessary.

A good 12th man unless he kills another cat.

Raw Power

The culmination of the starting five will include a bench; it would be lame to finish this with only one person, no matter how special.

There is a percieved decline in the American center. The so-called "Heavyweights" are a dying breed--Shaq is their last outpost in the landscape of the NBA. But Shaq also killed the center. More on that later.

Right now, we're going to talk about the center, as well as the bench for this team of legends.

Center: Dwight Howard

Howard's game is about as cultured as Borat during his meeting with the Southern wine-tasting gentlemen. There's power to it, and a certain sincerity, but none of the polish that truly creates a gem.

As it is, he is the ultimate diamond in the rough. In this case though, he is not a shining star in a sea of mundanity. Rather, he must combat his own horselike uncoordination in a quest to meld a more perfect model of what a center should look like.

To take this analogy a little too far, he is like a piece of coal. Only with time and pressure will he evolve into the most valuable and unbreakable gem on the planet.

For a piece of coal though, he's pretty damn good.

Wave of Mutilation

Small Forwards are incapable of deciding a game of basketball. Since Larry Legend, none of the swingmen have done anything but flail helplessly at the monolith of guards and centers. While SFs are often praised for their versatility, that same versatility also condemns them to the life of an outsider--never intimately wrapped up in the outcome of the game. The ghetto of the swingman is one near impossible to break out of. If one does, one does it in style.

On to the next two of my Starting Five.

SF: Gerald Wallace

A ghetto superstar if there ever was one. G Walls was dumped unceremoniously on the Bobcats by the Sacto Kings after he failed to develop as they thought he might.

There, he blossomed into a dunking and occasionally shotblocking force at the SF spot, finally reaching a more perfect state in 2005-6 season. His offensive game has matured to the point of illness, his defensive game on its way.

His dunks have some of the power of Nique, along with some of his explosiveness to and from the ball. If he ever harnesses his physical power more than he has now, watch out.

PF: Josh Smith

He's techinically an SF, but then what the hell do positions mean anyways?

Smith is raw power embodied--his dunks are the most vicious since Shawn Kemp. He is still figuring out how to play the game though.

One night he might block five shots, dunk the ball six times, and make the opposing coach cry twice, but the next he could slip down into the oblivion that has occupied Small Forwarddom since Legend and Nique hung up their spikes.

He will fit into this squad's tempo perfectly, and give us another crazy person to hammer down dunks on unsuspecting opposition.

The Dead Zone

As we enter the eye of the NBA storm--and I am pushed to the sidelines by a fractured toe--I would like to delve into my ultimate starting five. And since its my blog, I fucking well will.


PG: Gilbert Arenas

Gilbert has been a maelstrom of controversy, at least early in this offseason. However, by inviting this controversy on himself he teaches us something about ourselves.

He was arrested not for pot, not for heroin, and not for soliciting hookers the night before the Super Bowl, but for sticking up for his teammate. That may have taken the form of standing in the middle of the road and shouting something about being Gilbert Arenas, but that makes his quest no less valid or valorous.

Let us not also forget that ill J he busted in LeBron's face to send the game into OT. His shot was at once not and highly predictable; we knew he was gonna drop some insane shit, and we knew he was gonna tie the game, but how you gonna shoot a J from 10 feet outside the 3 point arc?

If you're Gilbert Arenas, that's how.

SG: Kobe Bean Bryant

81 points. Eighty-one points. Eighty points plus one point.

No matter how you say it, one thing is certain. It was the best offensive display of all time. Yeah yeah, Wilt dropped the century, which probably will never be repeated. But at this point 100 is like .400 or the Triple Crown--it was done in a different era against different competition.

Kobe was the most dominant force in the league last year. The sportswriters ignored him for a floppy-haired whiteboy they felt guilty for handing it to a year ago.

Weird.

TO BE CONTINUED

Mad Love to the Creator of the Whiteboy with Skillz

I Never Though You'd Be A Junkie Because Heroin is so Passe

Since blaming Isiah Thomas for Knickerbocker woes has gone the way of bellbottoms, Starbury shoulders most of the abuse.

In the words of Tony Wilson: "You're just fucking wrong."

To put it bluntly, Starbury is perceived as a cancer; a shoot-first point guard in a world where that role is regulated to the trash heap designated for other Next Jordan candidates. That Starbs occupies the same space as Franchise is an experiment that is every bit as valid as the PHX.

The experiment was doomed to failure from its inception with the hiring of LB to coach the Knicks; as soon as Franchise was traded, Starbury correctly assessed that they needed to play one style only--run and gun.

His statement is a testament to an intelligence rarely attributed to ballers, especially those from the streets.

Zeke should not attempt to control this monster, as LB did, but rather let it run its course. Put five guards on the floor, don't be constricted by the social norms that dictate the way that basketball should be played.

It worked at Villanova, and we know the normal stuff sure as hell didn't work last year, so why not allow Starbury to control his own fate? Steph is not the one to blame for the NYK debacle, nor is Zeke.

Isiah has built a team designed to destroy, but to destroy in a very specific way. LB did not unlock the secret. Maybe Zeke can, but I have a feeling that the keyholder might be suiting up in #3 for them next Fall.

The Sun Switches Horizons

Basketball and life are cyclical.

Since 1999, the Lakers and Spurs have dominated the universe with the exception of the 2004 anomaly. The East has been dominated by subpar teams of late-- even the Heat last year were broken for a champion. It was only due to injuries or chaos that any Eastern team has risen to the ultimate pedestal of late, but dominance is swinging back across the center of the country.

With the infusion of 'Mek, G Walls, 'Bron, Bosh, Villanueva, Dwight, and even Public Enemy Number 1, the East's underdog status is in danger of disappearing for the next decade. The West's collapse is imminent, unless sustained by the creative forces that summoned both PHX and DAL.

With Colangelo's departure that invention is looking less and less imminent. The East is embracing a new age of basketball player, while the West attempts to replicate that success with entire teams.

One of those two is sustainable. I guess we'll find out.

The Week(s) the Earth Stood Still

Marquis: Gone.
J.R. Smith: Gone.
Ben Wallace: A Bull.
Tyson Chandler and Peja Stojakovic: Hornets.

Simmons dropped a vintage performance today, mad love for this man's inclusion:

It's getting to be that he is perhaps the only soldier left in this increasingly maddening war.

The trades and signings have been nothing if not baffling. The Bulls sign a fading Ben Wallace, then flip his equally skilled, newly found teammate to the Hornets for a FreeDarko soldier and a washed-up vet with an $8 milly contract.

The Mavericks, no doubt flush with the quality minutes Keith Van Horn supplied them in the NBA Finals (Note: Jokes) swapped Marquis Daniels for AUSTIN MOTHERFUCKING CROSHERE.

Don't get it twisted; Croshere is a wonderful person I'm sure, but how many times does one of the premier young slashing guards in the Lig come knocking on your door, only to be sent to languish in the midst of cattle and sheep while you revel in the expiringness of his replacement's contract?

Yes, maybe I am a little bitter the Lakers didn't trade for him. So, what?

Here's hoping the Hornets are launched into an ecstasy of success, led by Chris Paul and Tyson Chandler. I only wish JR was there to see it.