It's About The Journey- Don't Stop Believing

I love statistics. I have always loved statistics. I loved statistics so much as a kid that in fourth grade I bought a Fantasy Football magazine with leftover birthday money and created a two-man league. I calculated the weekly scoring with box scores from the Monday newspaper and, armed with the knowledge of experts at draft time, assembled a team that went 16-0-1 against my dad. It was clear in my nine-year-old mind that I had quickly and thoroughly mastered the intricacies of football statistics and, emboldened by my success, I began branching out to other sports. I soon came across the basketball book The Experts Picks: Basketball’s Best 50 Players in the Last 50 Years. There were charts, career statistics and organized rankings of the greatest players of all-time. As a child, I could not imagine a player superior to Michael Jordan and the book validated that opinion with a number one ranking for His Airness. Satisfied with the opinions of these “experts”, I devoured the book and its’ statistics and was later inspired enough to make my own attempt at ranking every starter in the league by position with a very simplistic version of PER (okay, really I just totaled points, rebounds and assists per game). I adjusted the list for defensive contributions (or for my own personal whims and completely arbitrary reasons) where necessary and thought myself the undisputed authority on everything about the NBA. And among the other pre-teen boys on the playground, I certainly was. How little did I know…


Last year, Bill Simmons authored The Book of Basketball: The NBA According to the Sports Guy. It topped the New York Times bestseller list and proved that Simmons has become the most recognizable face in sports writing. He can no longer be considered an average sports fan from Boston. He’s gone Hollywood, both literally (home location) and figuratively (executive producing credit on an ESPN documentary series, hanging out with athletes/celebrities, losing touch with the younger generation as he gets into his 40s). And even though his analysis remains spotty and his pop culture references grow increasingly tiresome, he perfectly captured a growing populist movement in The Book of Basketball. Most of the book is devoted to ranking the top 96 basketball players of all-time. A list of the greatest teams in NBA history is included, too. The book is a well-researched, very funny read and was a huge success because it is likely to be the crowning achievement of Simmons’ immensely popular body of work. But the format didn’t hurt, either. Basketball fans have become obsessed with comparing current players and finding the correct place for today’s stars on the lists of all-time greats. It’s a far more intriguing process in basketball than in any other sport, perhaps because the game lends itself toward individual matchups and rivalries within the confines of a team game. Or it may be because there are so many interpretations of greatness. Intelligent, thoughtful basketball lifers can come to very different conclusions when evaluating players. For example, Simmons’ complete revision of NBA history was based on “The Secret,” that winning was about sacrificing individual glory and playing as a team rather than focusing on statistics and individual brilliance. He valued players who performed well in the playoffs and did the little things.  Needless to say, his process yielded a much different list of rankings than The Experts Picks. Advanced statistics only further complicate the matter as they provide new information but also new contradictions (PER/Wages of wins/Adjusted plus-minus are often at odds) and this adds another facet to any argument. It may be something new or something old come again (Russell/Wilt, Oscar/West, Magic/Bird) but debating the virtues of players like LeBron James and Kobe Bryant and pitting them against previous greats like Michael Jordan has become routine. Suddenly, the NBA has transformed from a fledging league into one rich in history, albeit much of it recent.

Previously, baseball had always been the most historically aware American sport. This seems natural because today’s game is similar to the one Babe Ruth played nearly a century ago. The breaking of records and passing of milestones has always been treated with fanfare and celebration (except one Bonds, Barry). The baseball history books have long been viewed as hallowed ground and the first indicator of one’s ability. Despite this generally accepted truth, there seems to be little discussion anymore concerning a baseball player’s legacy except during the annual voting for the Hall of Fame or in the event of a public admission of Performance Enhancing Drug use. Perhaps the steroid era obliterated fans' sense of history. Maybe no one is comparing Albert Pujols to Lou Gehrig because Gehrig died nearly 70 years ago and is known more for a speech than for being one of the greatest players of all-time. Perhaps quantitative analysis has made such strides that there remains little to debate because the numbers take all the ambiguity out of the game. It would take a smarter person than I to figure out the answer (or prove my assertion wrong) but baseball seems weighed down by its’ history. Baseball trudges along with four hour playoff games and seems stale and monotonous. Judging by television ratings, interest is indeed fading and I, for one, am much less invested in the game than when I was a child lying in bed, hanging on Jon Miller’s every word as he announced Orioles games on the radio. Football is now America’s past time but there is still room for another sport to grab a greater share of the nation’s hearts and minds. Basketball is on the rise and can fill that void. The NBA is not MLB; it is comparatively young, fresh and exciting. There is unprecedented interest in the upcoming season and it is driven by the player comparisons that no longer serve as hot topics among baseball enthusiasts. Is Kobe vs. LeBron anything more than a modern-day version of Joe DiMaggio vs. Ted Williams?

The NBA suffered earlier this decade for a number of reasons but the empty shoes of MJ, Magic and Bird were certainly a contributing factor. The NBA set itself up as a superstar league and when Kobe and Shaq went their separate ways, Tim Duncan and his methodical San Antonio Spurs could not hold the public’s interest. But the talent level is rising again and there are players and teams that may be worthy of being in the same conversation as the iconic players and teams of the 1980s. Although I’ve never actually talked around a water cooler, I imagine that LeBron James made the Legion of Doom a water cooler topic of conversation (in July, no less). Talk of “The Decision” seemed to be everywhere, from my mom to Twitter to random friends who don’t watch anything but European soccer to barbershops across the country. Basketball was again…cool.

I don’t actually know if “The Decision” commanded attention in barbershops because I have never actually talked basketball while getting a haircut. In fact, I haven’t stepped foot in a barbershop over the past three years, instead choosing to save money and shave my head every six months. Even prior to the cost-cutting measures of college, I had my hair cut by a woman whose sports knowledge was limited at best. But in the theoretical barbershop that I frequent once a month, I discuss basketball with a group of regulars and no one pins mediocre Family Circus comics to their mirrors. The shop regulars are split into two factions (Survivor style), the younger generation that brashly proclaims LeBron James as the future G.O.A.T. and the old timers who stubbornly refuse to let go of the 1980s and the “golden age” of basketball. The veterans stroke their salt and pepper goatees and regale the youngsters with tales of the Dream Shake, teams built around making the extra pass and Larry Bird’s mustache. They champion Kobe Bryant as the best player alive and cite his technique, intelligence and skill as the factors that put him over that LeBron guy who is dismissed because he “hasn’t won anything, yet.” At its’ core, my barbershop is a more intelligent, less profane version of every basketball message board on the Internet (with the added bonus of being completely devoid of delusional Knick and Laker fans). The regulars rationally argue Kobe vs. LeBron, Chris Paul vs. Deron Williams and Pau Gasol vs. Dirk Nowitzki. They debate whether the Legion of Doom can at some point assemble a team that can challenge the ’96 Bulls record of 72 regular season wins. It’s a wonderful thing and a part of what makes basketball so interesting and enjoyable. The barbershop thinks upon the similarities between Dwight Howard and a young Shaquille O’Neal. Does LeBron or Dwyane Wade take the last shot in Miami and what does this reveal about the mental makeup of each player? Even the youngsters are able to point out that Blake Griffin plays like a young Amare Stoudemire. Would you rather have Griffin’s future or Amare’s past? The debates rage on and it is apparent that the barbershop is a place of free-flowing, stimulating conversation. It is also terribly flawed.

“Can’t see the forest for the trees.” Proverb (uncertain origin but my guess is Chinese)

I have already highlighted my love for stats, rankings, comparisons and an established order in a messy sports world. So this theoretical barbershop would appear to be an ideal situation (which is nice since I made the whole thing up in the first place). But that is not the case; it’s simply that I cannot imagine a meaningful basketball discussion without the inevitable player comparisons creeping into the conversation. In a recent Sports Illustrated article, Baltimore Ravens coach John Harbaugh says that his staff has “this rule. We make no comparisons. Somebody is going to be devalued.” I am a dozen years deep into the world of player comparisons but I hope to be more like John Harbaugh and less like the regulars at my imaginary barbershop.


Most eyes are pointed toward South Beach and Los Angeles this season. A few eyes are spared for Boston, Orlando and Oklahoma City. Fans care, one way or the other, more about the Legion of Doom than any other basketball team in history. This is the season of Wade vs. LeBron vs. Kobe vs. Durant vs. Jordan. It is the Legion vs. Boston vs. Los Angeles vs. the 1996 Bulls. The questions of legacy hover over the league like a storm cloud, growing more ominous by the minute and appearing inescapable. But I want to watch Kobe’s footwork in the post without wondering if Jordan had a more refined approach. I want to see Derrick Rose acrobatically hit reverse layup after layup without wondering if I would rather have him, Russell Westbrook or Rajon Rondo for the next ten years. I want to appreciate LeBron lope down the court and finish emphatically in transition without thinking about the next two years and how important they are to his legacy. Why should Kevin Durant already be compared to George Gervin (which is a bad comparison in the first place because Durant has played more defense in three years than Gervin did his entire career) and Michael Jordan? Durant should be allowed to grow at his own pace. And NBA fans should appreciate him for the incredible player he already is instead of forcing him into the role of Anti-LeBron and the league’s next savior (not a strong track record there). I want to appreciate the uniqueness of Nicolas Batum instead of wondering whether he or Rodrigue Beaubois will become the third best French player in the NBA. I can only hope that others avoid this pitfall, as well.

Actually, that’s not true. A Batum/Roddy Buckets debate is exactly what I want. I want the interest in the LoD to be so great that it spills over to the rest of the league. I want the casual fan to know more about Batum and Beaubois. They are both the type of player that keeps the NBA in a state of evolution. They have hinted at potential greatness and are already capable of making highlight reel plays while quickly changing the outcome of a game. They bring a bit of chaos into an NBA world that has far too many player rankings and far too little holistic appreciation of the game.

I once wrote thousands of words defending LeBron James (and I don’t even like the guy) because a friend of mine compared him (unfavorably, at that) to Charles Barkley. I have already written half of an upcoming post about Steve Nash and the proper evaluation of his impact on a team. It won’t be easy to change. And comparisons should still be a part of most NBA discussions. But that is not how lifelong basketball fans are made. Players come and go but the game lives on. Fans are made in that split second you see an open Roddy Buckets cutting toward the basket and you know that Jason Kidd will find him. It’s that moment when everyone in the arena rises as one because they know something great is going to happen. And it does. The whole point of the season is to determine the best team. Let the season takes it course. Instead, come with me and enjoy the journey along the way.