Illegitimate Outrage in These Truly Outrageous Times

On Monday, October 11, 2011, at about 8:30 pm, and after a long day of work at two different jobs, David Stern and Billy Hunter caused me to unfairly yell at my housemate Elissa.

The incident that prompted the yelling is fairly insignificant.  I had been completely in the wrong -- I selfishly went back on a claim I had made earlier in the week, and used passive aggression in a really obnoxious way (as opposed to passive aggression used in a friendly, non-obnoxious way). When Elissa rightfully confronted me about my conduct, I overreacted and snapped back, like an irritable small dog, and sulked away.  Within ten minutes, however, my guilty conscious got the best of me, and I sheepishly apologized for my behavior.  Elissa, always the gracious housemate and individual, quickly forgave my transgressions.  She said to me, sympathetically, "I know you had a long day at work." I sort of nodded my head, smiled weakly, and left the room.  Yeah, work.  That must be it, I thought.  But deep down, I knew exactly what had set me off, and also knew that it probably wasn't as legitimate of an excuse for others as it was for me -- at least at that very moment.

You see, earlier that day, David Stern had announced that the first two weeks of the NBA season would be canceled since neither side had come up with a reasonable collective bargaining agreement.  This, of course, came as no surprise to any fan of the game that had been remotely dialed in to the ongoing labor negotiations.  Even calling these talks "negotiations" is somewhat dubious, as frankly, absolutely nothing has been negotiated yet.  After a summer of fiery rhetoric and infrequently scheduled meetings between the NBA owners and the National Basketball Players Association yielded little progress on a number of issues, including a hard salary cap, more equitable sharing of basketball related income (BRI) and the length and amount of guaranteed contracts, Stern chose to cancel training camps and the preseason. Assumedly, that was supposed to be the wakeup call needed to get both sides back to the bargaining table with the mission to save the NBA season from themselves, and end a bizarre path towards mutually assured destruction.  But instead, little progress was made (despite the presence of a federal mediator appointed by President Obama) and Stern took it upon himself to make the lockout real. This year, I'd actually have to give a shit about Halloween, rather than do what I do each year, and tell folks I have a lot of basketball to watch tonight.  And believe it or not, it was this very thought -- that the NBA season was now officially on hiatus, that perhaps there would be no NBA season whatsoever, and that wouldn't be able to rely on the NBA as a crutch to escape and serve as an alternative to undesirable social interactions and events -- that caused me to snap at Elissa, and generally be an unpleasant grouch for the rest of the night.

As the NBA season slowly decays in front of our eyes, and as we remain completely powerless to stop the madness, I have come to grips with the damage the lockout has done to my personal interest and practical investments in the sport. Earlier in the summer, I argued that despite the length of the lockout, and the vitriol between the two sides, my NBA fanhood would stand the test of time and survive the labor stoppage. As it turns out, though, it's difficult to maintain a level of affection for a non-responsive lover, who apparently you had a one-sided relationship with for most of your waking life.  In general, I have been largely silent throughout the 119 days of the NBA lockout. Each day, I find myself growing increasingly distant from the game, both in terms of interpersonal discussion and somewhat structured analysis. Many friends sent me articles regarding the lockout that I never read, still in denial that the game was gone for a very prolonged period of time. My morning Internet blog roll -- TrueHoop, HoopsHype and The Basketball Jones -- was eventually locked-out as well as it became clear that NBA analysts literally had nothing to write about anymore. Sure, the sites continued to churn out content, but it was rarely worth reading. For example, ESPN's "5-on-5" series hypothesizes about an NBA that has been essentially frozen in carbonite, completely unchanged since Darth Vader got ahold of it at the end of the NBA draft.  The discourse is wildly vague, and the end product often seems unfinished and unsatisfactory.  But, what can you reasonably expect when there's literally nothing to discuss?  You get wild conjectures and baseless criticism, of course.  It's frustrating to read, and probably frustrating to write.

See, in my opinion, what you need to know about the lockout can be thought of in terms of pie. If you ask me, most things can be talked about in terms of pie, but that's probably besides the point. In this particular case, it's not about the size of the pie, but rather how big of a slice your side deserves. Both the players and the owners agree that they have, together, made a really big pie. Neither side really wants to be nice and share, however.  You see, before the last collective bargaining agreement expired, the players, who had essentially provided the ingredients needed to make the pie, were receiving 57% of the total pie, but were splitting it amongst more eaters. On the other hand, the owners, who provided the facilities needed to make the pie, were only getting 43% of the total product. Even though they got less pie, they only had to split it amongst 30 individuals who already had a lot of pie at home, while the players had to split their share between 450 individuals who had far less pie stored up. So, it didn't seem like that big of a deal for awhile. Over time, however, as the pie got bigger and more delicious, the owners began to feel dissatisfaction over their share of the pie, despite the fact their share of the pie was split amongst fewer individuals, and that the owners never really into sharing their pie in the first place.

So, after much discussion and consternation, the owners asserted that unless they got to take more pie from the players -- something along the lines of a 50/50 split -- they wouldn't let the players use their facilities to make the pie anymore. The players, indignant that the owners would offer ultimatums about the pie that worked hard to make, mostly for the benefit of the owners themselves, decided to harden their stance, and reject the 50/50 split outright.  Indeed, there are additional issues regarding the pie, such as which owners deserve the biggest piece from their share, and the fact that often times, owners ruin their own waistlines by overvaluing and overpaying some of their pie cooks. But essentially, the lockout can be summarized in one pie-related sentence: Though both the players and owners like their pie, they can't agree on how to appropriately split it up. And that's where we are today -- the arenas are dark, the stands are empty, and there's no basketball in sight.  And perhaps most infuriatingly, both sides are quick to blame the other about how and why we got to the mess we are in today.

But while both sides have the right to blame the other, I assert that the reality, at least from the perspective of the average American fan, is this: while the owners and the players argue about how much pie they deserve, they forget that they exist in a world where millions of people give up their miniscule amounts of pie to simply watch the two sides eat far more delicious and filling pie.  Furthermore, while both sides argue about massively enormous quantities of pie, they also forget that hundreds of people rely on the NBA to maintain their comparatively modest amounts of pie.  In a report released almost as an afterthought this week, Ken Berger wrote that 400 jobs had been lost as a result of the four-month old lockout, with no plans on re-employment should the lockout end anytime soon. While it may be easy to cordon off this debate to just those who earn millions (or billions) of dollars, it obviously is not that simple.  As fans, we are all consumers of the pie; we create the market that puts these players to work in very well-compensated positions, and fills these owners' stadiums. And believe it or not, this inequity is starting to trickle down to the plebeian level in very real ways.

Now, I realize the importance of maintaining proper perspective in the face of an undesirable personal situation.  In other words: it's important to remember that this is a first world problem.  Sure, there will be basketball, even if the entire season is canceled. For example, OKC Thunder superstar Kevin Durant has been doing a "Basketball Never Stops" campaign/tour around the United States, showcasing his skills in every type of game imaginable to prove that love of the game is enough to keep the people sated and entertained.  A number of other stars have taken Durant's theory, but -- surprise, surprise! -- monetized in into a 5-continent All Star world tour, in which some players will reportedly receive between $500,000 to $1,000,000 per game.  (If you ask me, I would say that earning a salary of roughly $20,000 a minute isn't the best way to garner support for your labor struggle, but hey, that's just me). And those are just the fillers being provided by currently out-of-work NBA players. The other basketball standards will still be around, and probably getting more attention than they've ever gotten before. The NCAA season just started a few nights ago, and here in Seattle, a city that has been locked out from the NBA permanently, there is a fair amount of interest in a stacked University of Washington team featuring local Garfield High School standout (and potential lottery pick) Tony Wroten. And finally, a number of NBA players like Deron Williams, Jordan Farmar, J.R. Smith and Ty Lawson have taken their talents to smoky gyms abroad in Turkey, Israel, China and Lithuania. So yes, there'll be ball to watch. But as fun as it is to see Kevin Durant score 66 points at Rucker Park, or Deron Williams playing in high school gyms halfway across the world, it's not the same. It's simply not the same.

Furthermore, the fact that basketball exists as a fairly insignificant part of the world -- and is not really the world, in and of itself -- has come into sharp relief over the past few months.  In the 119 days since the lockout began, Libya completed its revolution and left its former dictator to rot in a meat locker, Tunisia wrote a brand new constitution and voted in a completely new government, Syria inched closer to an all-out civil war, and the US government totally lost its pants, as well as the confidence of its citizenry. But that's not all.  In the 119 days since the lockout began, we learned that White America mistakenly confused Steve Jobs for Jesus Christ for many years, that Greece is well on its way to becoming Europe's first major casualty to austerity and a terminally sick Euro, and that according to US "intelligence" agencies, you can't trust a Mexican to assassinate a Saudi, even if the Iranian government is backing you up.  And perhaps most importantly, in the 119 days since the lockout began, we realized that despite our myriad of political affiliations and identities, we are the 99%, and we are angry as hell, no matter where you are in the world, and that we're not going to take it anymore.

With the world rapidly changing, and the NBA remaining frustratingly the same, it is now high time to state the obvious about the lockout: there are no sides to take in this argument; no side to truly rally behind.  Instead, we are left with the fact that both players and the owners are part of the privileged, wealthy, and powerful 1% that large populations of the world are now starting to mobilize against, that are finally being taken to task. As the world turns, and the NBA fixed in immobility, it is hard not to move on and focus my attention and energy on more important things. But, as I wrote earlier this summer, old habits die hard. That's why The Diss is back, if only temporarily -- to provide a place where I, as a fan, can vent my frustration, and attempt to understand how an ego-fueled and ego-filled labor struggle that ended the game has so dramatically taken me out of my game.  This will be my outlet to comprehend a world without basketball -- a truly frightening prospect.  Despite this, I refuse to let this project fall apart because millionaires and billionaires cannot agree on how many zeroes they deserve at the end of their paychecks.

So, as I attempt to revive and maintain The Diss in what already has been a long, bitter and frustrating labor stoppage, I promise you, my dear reader, and perhaps casual basketball fan, that this blog will balance an exuberant love of the NBA with the harsh realities of the labor stoppage, and will attempt to explain what it reflects not just about the wealthy and powerful in America, but our role in this operation as well. I am angry that there will be no basketball in three days.  I am angry that there many not be basketball for the next 365 days.  I truly feel dissed.  But since I don't have the power to end the lockout myself, maybe someone will listen to me complain about that powerlessness instead.

(At least, until the season starts, and all is quickly, and shamelessly, forgiven.)

B-Easy's Long July

While drinking at a bar in Minneapolis last month, I had the good fortune of meeting some Timberwolves fans who were also graduate students at the University of Minnesota. Though we chatted about various Timberwolves-related topics, including Rambis' job performance (he still had a job at that point), Luke Ridnour's distinction as the worst starting point guard in the NBA, and the fact that Kevin Love has to be traded for the team to move to the next level (you heard me), one of our more animated topics of discussion was Michael Beasley, aka "B-Easy." B-Easy had just finished up his first season in Minnesota, which saw him average a career-best 19.2 points per game on a pathetic 17-win team.  My new "friends" (anyone who buys a pitcher of beer and talks ball with me is a "friend," but they really were solid folk) were not sold on B-Easy's long term future in the Twin Cities. Their complaints about Beasley were the same as most T-Wolves fans and bloggers. The scoring is nice, but it doesn't translate to wins. He doesn't grab enough rebounds for his size. His shot selection is suspect. He doesn't play with focus or control.  It always looks like he's stoned.

And honestly, there is an element of truth in all of their statements. The 19.2 points per game, good for 20th in the league this season, were second on the team only to Kevin Love, and came at a respectable 45% clip. He also was an effective 3-point threat, shooting 36% on the season, and nailing 60 treys.  So there's that, and that's a tangible contribution to a rebuilding team. However, his defensive numbers were pretty poor. B-Easy clearly underachieved as a rebounder this season, managing only 7 boards per 36 minutes, which is below the league average given the amount of playing time he receives. He also notched only 0.7 blocks per 36 minutes, which was near the bottom of the league for starting small forwards. And as always, his focus and commitment were questioned throughout the season, and he was a constant topic for trade rumors, even as recently as the NBA draft last month.

Yet, I like Michael Beasley. I actually like him a lot. Well, I like and hate him a lot. Perhaps it's because I see a bit of the Everyman in B-Easy. While clearly in the Association's upper echelon in terms of individual talent, he plays with an ease that seemingly fluctuates between casual and disinterested. Like any of us, Michael Beasley seems occasionally bored by the daily grind of his job, and looks for other ways to keep things lively.  During the summer before his rookie year, Beasley rubbed people the wrong way by singing aloud throughout a summer league game.  At the time, he explained that when he's playing, "it's just basketball, man. I've played it in college, high school and middle school. The same game, same concepts, the same rules.  [I'm] just out there having fun." Whereas the League is now filled with fairly emotionless guys who seemingly eat, drink, and breathe basketball, Michael Beasley, refreshingly, does not fit into that mold.  He is a man who likes to clown around, and seemingly cares more about finding meaningful enjoyment in both his job, and his life, than being the most hardworking, skilled professional in his occupation of choice. I like that. I can relate to that. That's why I hate it as well.

In my view, Michael Beasley has had a July that exemplifies the reasons I both love and hate Michael Beasley.  It's worth looking at the good and the bad that makes B-Easy what he is: just another guy, in a very high profile job. What we see in this long July is, in my opinion, a perfect snapshot of Michael Beasley as he wants to be portrayed: talented, but still learning the ropes.  Dedicated, but not obsessed. And perhaps most importantly, having more fun than most.

(Note that this "July" also includes the first week of August. If Eric Hobsbawm can include 1789-1799 and 1900-1914 in his idea of a long 19th century, I can include August 1-7. It's only fair.)

July 2, 2011: Beasley begins the first full month of the lockout saying all the right things. In an interview with Marc Spears of Yahoo! Sports, Beasley explains that the lockout is something he had been preparing for since he had entered the league, and that he was going to use the downtime to improve his game and have a bit of fun. "They've been warning me since I stepped into the NBA," Beasley said. "I'm prepared. I'm ready. I'm not going to be borrowing money from anybody." He said he was planning on organizing workouts in Los Angeles with some of his teammates, and even threw a bone to lame duck coach Kurt Rambis, and said "I love Rambis, a great guy, a great coach, he knows a lot about the game.  But at the same time, it's a cutthroat business. I don't want him to go anywhere but if he does, that's the business." Smart and mature. Let's hope nothing happens the rest of the month.

July 6, 2011: I must have jinxed it.

News comes out that Beasley was pulled over in Minnetonka, MN in late June for speeding. After pulling Beasley over, the cop found a bit over a half ounce of weed in the car. Beasley swore the weed wasn't his -- he was just holding it for a friend.  Both the speeding and the pot possession are petty misdemeanors. And, because there's a lockout on, none of the NBA's substance-abuse policies are in effect. B-Easy must be thanking his lucky stars.

But unfortunately, any sort of marijuana-related crime reflects poorly on Beasley. Beasley has been involved in a fairly long list of weed-related "crimes" since he entered the league. He, Darrell Arthur, and Mario Chalmers were busted for having weed and women in their hotel room at the rookie orientation weekend before the start their first seasons After that, he became one of the early poster boys for Twitter mistakes by posting a picture of his new tattoo with what looked to be a bag of chronic in the background.  Finally, his new boss David Kahn did him no favors by claiming that he "smoked too much weed" while playing for Miami. Truly a ringing endorsement for a recent hire.

Beasley won't have to answer to the league, and that's lucky for him. But this will be an early season distraction, whenever the season begins.

July 23, 2011: B-Easy, along with a number of other NBA players, play at the H206 charity game at Key Arena in Seattle. I went, along with fellow Diss-cussant Long Bui, and a few other friends. Beasley got a lot of burn for his team, The League.  While I hope to write a longer review of H206, I will say that B-Easy, who I was excited to see in the flesh, was not impressive. He looked to be going at about 30% the entire time, while other pros on both teams clearly played better and harder. Spencer Hawes looked like Bill Walton when Beasley was guarding him, while Beasley settled on long, questionable jumpers. A clanked breakaway dunk sticks in my mind -- Beasley was all alone in the frontcourt, and sent the ball flying high in the air with a miscalculated tomahawk. After missing the dunk, he just sort of stood under the hoop, watching Will Conroy and Isaiah Thomas take it to his team while they were getting back on defense.  It wasn't an impressive performance.

July 25, 2011: B-Easy announces via his website that he'll be spending most of August and September playing in Pro-Am leagues throughout the states in an effort to "work on [my] craft, and stay tight." Beasley is joining guys like James Harden, Brandon Jennings, and Kevin Durant in the Dyckman league in New York, the Goodman league in Washington DC, and the Drew league in Los Angeles. Based on his H206 performance, I'm not expecting to be wowed.

August 2, 2011: B-Easy does me a solid, and proves me right:

That's Beasley getting crossed up. And the guy crossing him up? Jahmar Young, a DC baller who used to play for New Mexico State, and went undrafted last month. Nope, I've never heard of him either. Even though it looks more like Beasley slipped on a wet spot than got his ankles broken, the effect is the same. The crowd goes wild, and rightfully so.

August 4, 2011: B-Easy has an eventful night at the Dyckman League in New York City, to say the least. His team, Team 914,  matched up against Team Nike, featuring Kevin Durant. According to The Kobe Beef, B-Easy scored 20 points and grabbed 7 boards. But, he's best remembered for his brilliant response to heckler Garland Quince.

According to SBNation's Brian Floyd, Quince and Beasley had been jawing for most of the second half.  As you can see in the video, things got heated while Beasley was waiting at the free throw line, and after some heated conversation, Beasley mushed Quince in the face. And he really mushes him, too.

While that's impressive, there are other B-Easy classic moments. Such "I get paid to do this," which has to be the greatest response to a heckler of all time. Or this classic moment of Beasley defensive ineptitude on none other than Kevin Durant, a fellow #2 overall draft pick (which sounds unbelievable, if you say it out loud.)

It's a textbook B-Easy defensive lapse. The low stance. The limber frame. The look of mock intensity in his eyes as he faces off against the best scorer in the League. And, of course, the inevitable breakdown. The flat-footed stance. The ankles, thoroughly broken. The slow turn of the head. The vicious tomahawk by his opponent. The slumped shoulders.  An all too familiar sight, now with streetball heckling.

But, his team won. That's a good end to the month.

***

Admittedly, I'm making too much out of a single month in an NBA player who has been largely freed from his contractual agreements with his professional basketball club. B-Easy is a carefree guy, enjoying his break, and rightfully so. And I'm not a prude. Far from one.  But I still find myself hoping he figures out that he already has a reputation as a player who doesn't think of all the consequences of his actions. From not going hard on the boards, to taking ill-advised shots, Beasley really doesn't seem to understand that his actions have broader ramifications.

Given that Beasley will be playing on the Pro-Am circuit for the foreseeable future, it stands to reason that he'll be one of the bigger personalities throughout the lockout. I hope, for his sake, and the Timberwolves, that he keeps his head about him. He's both a remarkable talent, and an Everyman. That's a rare thing these days.

Weekly Roundup: SVG Could Cross You Up and Durant's 66

The Diss has entered full lockout mode -- which is to say, writers are focusing on longer pieces while Boss Stern and the Players' Association duke it out at the bargaining table.  NBA fans and analysts alike are struggling through this offseason, reading baseless rumors about stars departing for $1 Million salaries in Turkey or Italy, while jealously looking at the cornucopia of news that NFL has produced since they ended their labor struggle. The Diss is no different.  Sure, we could write a long article about the implications of the lockout. Or, we could do what ESPN is doing, and speculating on teams whose rosters are going to change drastically as soon as the lockout ends (in other words, ESPN is killing time). But, that's not too interesting.

So, I'm going to try and do a Weekly Roundup.  Each week, I will compile 2-3 tidbits of NBA-related ephemera to keep us all sated and thinking while the NBA lockout drags on. It's all we can do to stay sane, and I don't want to project too heavily about teams whose rosters will certainly  With no further ado, I present this week's roundup, a veritable Microsoft Word document of free-thoughts and self-absorbed ramblings. If that doesn't compel you to read, nothing will. Except maybe a free hat.

1a. Stan Van Gundy Could Cross You (and Me) Up

Most of the time, I see Stan Van Gundy, coach of the Orlando Magic, like this:

Sort of like a big, angry bear, protecting his (her?) cubs. Or, like Mario. Itsa him, Stan Van Gundy!

But as Sportsgrind reports, I should instead be viewing Van Gundy like this:

You should check the story to see the brief video. Totally worth it.


This obviously changes my worldview, and breaks paradigms across the board. Without context -- that is, knowing that this hefty, moustachioed White guy is the head coach of an NBA team -- this is an image that breaks all sorts of stereotypes. Not just a White guy shakin' 'n' bakin' (so many apostrophes!), but an old White guy. Not just and old White guy, but a fat and old White guy. The gasps from the unseen audience say it all. This guy is fucking good.


But then we delve deeper into the mystery that is SVG. Turns out the guy played Division I basketball at SUNY Brockport (for his dad), after being somewhat heavily recruited as a flashy, high scoring guard out of Alhambra High School in Martinez, CA.  He won scholar-athlete of the year for the SUNY system.  Not too bad, Stan.

So Stan joins a club of current/former White NBA head coaches who had playing careers that might surprise you.  The list is long, but some of the more notable members include Larry Brown, the best bad coach in the NBA (or, the worst good coach?), whose 1961 punch to the face of Art Heyman is credited as starting the now famous Duke-UNC basketball rivalry.

And Scott Skiles, whose Milwaukee Bucks better start out hot if he wants to keep his job, but who still holds the record for most assists in a game (30).  Dang, Scott.

1b. I still feel like I've seen SVG naked.

Despite having a new-found ability seeing Super Van Gundy like this (look at those ups!):

I still see him, most of the time, like Ron Jeremy.

Which means Stan Van Gundy has seen me do some things. To myself.  Terrible things. Things God hates. I'm sorry, Stan.  I wish you looked more like Randy Spears.  What a dreamboat.

Not a bad actor, either.  His performance as James Quirk in Sex Trek II was truly a tour-de-force.

We should probably talk about something else.

2a.  Kevin Durant can score a lot of points on lesser players.

With NBA players free from their contracts, we've seen a lot of guys playing in charity tournaments against a mix of college and street legends.  Brandon Jennings dropped 71 at the Melo League, and John Lucas III, a marginal NBA player at best, racked up 60 points at the Pro-Am league in New York.

But Kevin Durant put on a show at Rucker Park.

What's interesting to me here is the stark contrasts between the ways Durant got his 66, as opposed to the ways Jennings and Lucas III got theirs.  While Jennings and Lucas III looked very much the part of a stereotypical "Street Balla" -- that is, flashy crossovers and strong drives to the basket -- Durant could have been wearing an OKC jersey, and checking over his shoulder to see if Scotty Brooks was calling a new play.  His street game didn't look any different than his professional game.  It also didn't look any less unstoppable.

2b.  You shouldn't assume NBA players dominate all the time in the playground.

Just ask Utah Jazz point guard Devin Harris, who was absolutely showed up by Stuart Tanner, a White Brit dressed like he was fresh from a J. Crew photoshoot, while he was in the country during preseason last year.

I'm not sure Devin Harris has ever lived this down.

And that's your Weekly Roundup for the first week of August.

Breaking News: There is No Breaking News

There are two important NBA issues ongoing, and two important issues only: the lockout and news that some NBA stars may ply their trade in Europe next season. That's it. The Diss has touched on these issues, but who needs our opinion on them, when that is the only thing out there that anybody else is writing on.

Therefore, in liu of actual things to write on, The Diss staff is researching longer, lengthier, and less time-sensitive posts. Posts that aren't a reaction to something currently happening, posts that won't ever be part of the 24-hour news cycle. Stay tuned for:

• A recap of H206 Charity Basketball Classic in Seattle
• An article about race and the Detroit Pistons
• An examination of where athletes live
• A post questioning why the NBA is so homophobic
• And many more

The Pain of Irrelevancy

If you ask a fan what they want from their team, their answer will invariably be “a championship.” That isn’t all that relevant, however, as only one out of thirty teams will hoist the Larry O’Brien Trophy each year. A more truthful answer would be “to be relevant.” That is all we want. Sure, a championship would be great, but we really just want to feel like we matter.

For the last few years, that feeling has been lacking in the Bay Area. I’m not just talking about basketball here.

The above table shows the winning percentages over the last five seasons for Bay Area teams in the four major professional sports. It is a pretty sad offering. Besides the Sharks, who have been scary good, the Bay Area hasn’t performed. The Sharks are the only team that has won over half of their games, and they account for five of the Bay Area’s eight playoff appearances. Granted, two of the other playoff appearances resulted in the Giants winning the World Series and the magnificent run of the We Believe Warriors, but the point remains: Bay Area sports haven’t been very good for the last five years, especially if you are a football fan.

Things are getting better, however. The Sharks will continue to remain relevant, though they need to make the Stanley Cup finals to shake us out of our complacency. The Giants are making a good run at building “Red Sox West”, and have just traded for the best available player at the trade deadline, the first time the Bay Area has done that in awhile.

The 49ers and the Warriors both have a chance at relevancy. For the first time since they hired George Seifert (replace Seifert with Steve Mariucci if you are feeling charitable), the 49ers have a quality coach, and managed to grab him even though he was coveted by a few other teams. They can also benefit heavily from a provision in the new NFL CBA that provides money for stadiums. The Warriors have one of the brighter young stars in the league (Stephen Curry), a borderline All-Star (Monta Ellis), a competent owner and front office, and possibly a quality coach. Both teams will have to start winning, however, to prove their relevance.

The A’s and the Raiders, on the other hand, are stuck in the past. The Raiders are still haunted by the ghost of Al Davis past, coming in and making radical (usually radically bad) decisions every few months. The A’s have faced a lot of injuries, employ a DH that is worse at hitting then a lot of pitchers, and can barely draw 15,000 a game. These two franchises need a lot of work.

But that’s the great thing about sports: fortunes can change on a dime. The Memphis Grizzlies hadn’t been relevant since trading Paul Gasol, and then Zach Randolph and co. came a few points away from playing in the Conference Finals. Nobody has any illusions that a Bay Area team, save the Sharks or the Giants, have a chance at winning a championship this year, but we don’t need that. Like everybody else, we just want to be relevant. A splashy new hire, a big trade, a run to the playoffs, that’s all we need to sustain our fandom for another season.

Why Mark Jackson (and every other coach) Doesn't Matter

Over at the Wages of Wins Journal (one of my favorite NBA blogs), there is a raging debate on the value of coaches. The general premise of Arturo Galletti’s post is that coaches in the NBA only matter in one regard: allocating playing time. Every other facet, like when you hear that a coach is making the team “tougher”, or is a “players coach”, doesn’t mean a thing. Their only value is determining which players see the floor, and which ride the pine.

I also believe that coaches add very little value to a team. Time after time it is shown that best way to predict how a team will perform is to look at the past statistics of the players: they are a much better indicator of a team’s strength then anything having to do with the coach. I want to take Arturo’s point a little bit farther though. In arguing that a coach’s main impact is allocating minutes, he implies that the allocation of minutes is an important consideration in whether a team wins or not. I know this sounds ludicrous, but I am suggesting that allocating minutes properly to the best players on the team, while important, doesn’t matter too much.

The above chart is simply a graph of two columns of data found in Arturo’s post: the percentage of minutes coaches properly allocated, and the total of a team’s wins produced. You would think that there would be a high correlation between these two numbers: teams that gave minutes to their best players would tend to do better than teams that did not. As it turns out, this correlation isn’t too strong, with an r2 of only 0.39. This means that, roughly speaking, 39% of the total of a team’s wins produced is due to the proper allocation of minutes. That is strong evidence to suggest that minute allocation matters, but equally strong evidence that it doesn’t matter too much. Even if Toronto Raptors coach Jay Triano had allocated his players minutes efficiently last year (instead, he only allocated 3% of his player’s minutes properly, no wonder he got fired), they would still have sucked. The fact is, better minute allocation can’t make up for bad players.

The Best NBA Commercial. Ever. Bar None.

Thanks, Long, and thanks, ESPN, for giving us this masterpiece.

My random, biased, and entirely unsubstantiated thoughts on this Tour de Force:

• The NBA and ESPN must be overjoyed that the League has good ol' American-born White guys who can be reasonable pitch men. Kevin Love and Blake Griffin (who is mixed) will be in commercials for years to come, as long as they continue to produce. In the words of Long Bui, K-Love is the "great white hope." 
• Ron Artest, aka Metta World Peace, has certainly come a long way. Or, has he?
• Tyson Chandler: living proof that winning an NBA championship will get you publicity that you probably don't deserve.

I invite you to offer your submissions for best NBA commercial ever. Perhaps it's time to make a Facebook page. Or a Google+ page. What is Google+, anyways?