2020 NBA Finals Outcomes Ranked by How Mad I’ll Get

By Jake Sweltz

Before this NBA season tipped off, we thought the title race was the most intriguing it’s been in years. Despite the unusual circumstances under which it played out, I think we’ve mostly gotten what we anticipated. Depending on your perspective, there are three to five teams that could realistically lift the Larry O’Brien trophy this year. So now that the Conference Finals are just beyond the horizon, it’s time to start reflecting on one of my favorite subjects:

Which NBA Finals outcome will make me the most angry?

First, I should clarify that I don’t have and never have had a rooting interest in any NBA team. (My preferred market doesn’t have a pro basketball team.) It’s a freedom that allows me to follow the league in whatever way I choose season-to-season, and usually I root for either the most chaotic and/or narratively compelling result. This is the unique situation in which there are many chaotic and/or compelling possible results, so I’ve decided to sort through them in the way that makes most sense to me, which is frankly how pissed off I’ll get it if it happens.

(Apologies in advance to Raptors and Nuggets fans: your teams don’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of making the Finals this year, so I excluded them from this ranking.)

1. If this season ends with the Celtics beating the Lakers, I’ll be so mad. Like, I’m mad just thinking about it.
2. The Celtics beating the Clippers, would be lame, too. If Kawhi Leonard makes it to the Finals again, I don’t want the “is he the next MJ??” narrative to get spoiled by the St. Louis Cardinals of the NBA.
3. If the Lakers beat the Heat, I’m not sure I would be able to watch ESPN for the next few months. The circle-jerk about the “mutual respect” between LeBron’s past and present teams would make me want to throw my TV out the window.
4. If the Rockets beat the Celtics, it will have come at the cost of millions of lives from fans who chose to stick their heads in an oven rather than spend a second more of their time watching the Rockets shoot threes.
5. The Rockets beating the Heat would at least give us a chance to see Jimmy Butler goad Russell Westbrook into going one-on-one a thousand times in an epic duel of “who can brick the most contested jumpers?”
6. The Heat beating the Rockets would be kind of sweet because of the sheer unpredictability, but theres’s still something about a “red-on-red” matchup that rubs me the wrong way. Call me picky, but I demand that my opposing Finals teams’ uniforms clash in an aesthetically appealing way.
7. It’s surprisingly easy to imagine the Celtics beating the Rockets if they both made it that far. I can already picture the zen-like tranquility on Brad Stevens’ face as Mike D’Antoni storms onto the court looking mad as hell after yet another timeout.
8. If the Heat beat the Lakers, I doubt LeBron would ever appear in public again. He’d turn into Howard Hughes, peeing in jars and watching Ice Station Zebra over and over again. Can you imagine the schadenfreude from Miami fans once someone texted to tell them their team won the Finals?
9. Watching the Clippers beat the Celtics would bring me no misery whatsoever, but it’s probably the most predictable thing that could happen. Which probably means it’s the thing that will happen.
10. I’m a sucker for a legendary story, and if the Lakers beat the Celtics, it would be the perfect chapter for LeBron’s. I’ll admit it’s not the hottest take, but I’m only human.
11. I’d like to see the Clippers beat the Heat because those teams are like bizarro versions of one another, and it would be fun to see them square off. Jimmy Butler is like if Kawhi was actually a creature from planet Earth with, like, an ego and emotions and whatnot.
12. The Heat beating the Clippers would be so badass. I really hope that happens.

image via Google

The Case for “LeBron to the Clippers” (No, Seriously.)

Don’t sleep on the new-look Clippers as a legitimate contender to sign the King this offseason. 

By Jake Sweltz

It’s been widely reported that LeBron James’ son will be enrolling at Sierra Canyon High School just outside of Los Angeles.  Most verified basket-bloggers have taken this as evidence that LeBron plans to sign with the Lakers.  But I wouldn’t dismiss the other LA-based NBA franchise’s chances so easily.

Stop laughing.  That’s right, I’m talking about the friggin’ Clippers.  As a legitimate contender to sign LeBron this offseason.  To play basketball.  I said stop laughing.

To be clear, I fully acknowledge the inherent absurdity of a scenario in which LeBron actual James plays real NBA games in an official Clippers jersey.  But hear me out; there are a number of factors suggesting this scenario might be more than science fiction.

1. PROPERTY RIGHTS: LeBron already owns two homes in LA.  If he signs with the Clippers, he can still make his move to Laker land without the pressure of living up to the Laker legacy held in place by the HOF’s who came before him.  LeBron is savvy, and he knows that losing to, say, the Kyrie-led Celtics in the Finals after becoming “the next great Laker” would ruin his reputation.
2. GREAT MINDS THINK ALIKE: The Jerry West factor is not to be taken lightly.  The Starters’ Trey Kerby mentioned that LeBron frequently brought up “basketball minds” during this latest playoff run.  The Logo is just the type of next-level basketball thinker LeBron could jibe with.  Plus, they already have a great relationship.
3. EMPIRE STATE OF MIND: If LeBron wants to maintain a presence in the NBA after his basketball career is over as an owner or GM, he could eventually become the Magic Johnson of the Clippers.  And who knows?  He might even one day eclipse Johnson as a mogul.  Imagine, the once-pitiful Clippers, controlled by the most heinous racist owner in the league, now a proud contender in the West with the greatest player of his generation at the helm?  Sounds to me like a pretty sweet flip o’ the script.
4. STAY FLEXIBLE: The Clippers have the 12th and 13th overall picks in this year’s draft, which they could theoretically package for an impact player or some other assets.  Their roster is composed of mutable entities like D’Andre Jordan and Tobias Harris, plus a ton of flotsam.  Can I interest you in a 2018-19 Clippers starting lineup that features LeBron James, Kawhi Leonard, and Patrick Beverly?  And besides, wherever he signs, LeBron will most likely ink a short term contract, as he did in Cleveland.  That way, if the Clippers experiment doesn’t work out, he can always reset in 2020 with the Lakers or somewhere else for yet ANOTHER final act.  If history has taught us nothing else, it’s that LeBron James is virtually indestructible (“pretty much broken” hand aside).
5. THE RAINMAKER: We all know LeBron is precious with his Narrative.  He knows if he can’t win more rings than MJ, he’ll have to tell a better story.  Bringing a title to this cursed Clipper franchise would cement his legacy as a franchise rainmaker, someone who could enter an NBA desert like the Cavs or the Clippers and turn them into a champion.

Who Do We Blame for the KD Warriors?

By Jake Sweltz

Kevin Durant joining GSW in 2016 was really good and cool for KD and the Warriors 😀

But it was really bad and not cool for most NBA fans 😦

By now, we all know where we stand on this issue, so let’s just move on to the million dollar question:

Who can we blame for all this?

Lots of people, it turns out!  Browsing the NBA blog-o-sphere in the weeks after KD and the Warriors won it all last year, I saw a surprising array of names floated as the Real Culprit.  Now that GSW are on the verge of going back-to-back, I’ve compiled a comprehensive list of the guiltiest and/or most interesting candidates.  Let’s explore them one by one:

KD JOINING THE WARRIORS…WHOSE FAULT WAS IT?!

1. KD? (for joining the Warriors) I think he definitely deserves some of the blame here.  But it would be boring and inaccurate to lay it all at his size 18 feet.  What about…
2. The Warriors? (for losing the 2016 Finals and actively recruiting KD) Between Klay slaying OKC, Draymond getting suspended, and Steph freezing up, there were a lot of ways the Warriors could have ended their 2016 season in a way that didn’t facilitate KD jumping ship to join them.  But ultimately, you can’t place a ton of blame on a team for signing an all-time great when they got the chance.  As usual, the most compelling narrative always comes back to…
3. LeBron? (for setting a “Super Team” precedent w/ the Decision) The weirdest take I’ve seen catch on is that LeBron’s 2010 Decision was somehow equivalent or worse than KD’s turncoat act.  Sure, the Decision was an obnoxious, ill-advised publicity stunt.  But from a basketball perspective, LeBron still left some semblance of the NBA’s competitive balance intact.  KD stone cold murdered that shit.  Besides, blaming stuff on LeBron stopped being cool in 2014.  In 2018, it’s much cooler to blame stuff on…
4. Russell Westbrook? (for hogging the ball so much in OKC that KD could no longer abide being his teammate) Durant more or less admitted to this when his burner accounts were outed last year.  If Westbrook passed the ball even 20% more often, maybe the Thunder would have won multiple titles.  But then he wouldn’t be Russ, and for NBA fans, that’s a worse fate.  Let’s move on to my personal favorite object of Arbitrary Internet Blame…
5. Michelle Roberts? (for defeating the proposed cap smoothing that would have prevented GSW from being able to pay KD) Now you’re talking my language.  Nothing is more satisfyingly mind-numbing than when the Blame Game turns into THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT.  Let’s dig a little deeper down that rabbit hole…
6. Adam Silver? (for not swooping in like Dikembe and blocking the shit out of the KD trade the second he caught wind of it) Where’s David Stern when you need him?  A few months after his promotion to commissioner, we were all singing Silver’s praises, but is it possible the NBA paved paradise and put up a parking lot?  Surely, he’s more blameworthy than…
7. Sam Presti? (for trading James Harden and unwittingly killing in the crib a potential Super Team that could have preempted GSW)  The only person I saw make this argument was Bill Simmons, who also claims the Harden Trade swung the terms of the Iran Nuclear Deal, the ’07 Writers’ Strike, and the O.J. Simpson trial.  Personally, I’d go back even further and blame…
8. George Mikan? (for allowing the ABA to introduce the three point line in 1967) Obviously it will never happen, but I think the NBA should abandon the three point arc.  Now that the power of the three ball has been discovered and exploited, the style of play has become homogenous.  If every shot were worth two points again, it would promote a diversity of styles.  A team like GSW that shoots a high percentage from distance could still stretch the floor, but big man bully ball would also have a place in the league.  In the long term, that equals more fun for fans AND more employment opportunities for traditional big men.  Just a thought.  In the meantime, we haven’t yet mentioned…
9. LaVar Ball? (he’s bad for the game, guys.  HE MUST BE STOPPED) Last year, when I wrote the first draft for this piece, LaVar was in the news like every week.  This year, he’s been mostly ignored as his start-up Junior Basketball Association struggles to generate ticket sales.  Is this his karmic punishment for secretly orchestrating the infamous meeting in the Hamptons between Durant and the Warriors that led to his signing with Golden State?!?  No, almost certainly not.  But what about…
10. Donald Trump? (this would never have happened in Obama’s America) I dunno, it just feels like he should take some heat for this.  And while we’re at it, let’s throw some dirt on…
11. James Naismith? (for inventing basketball, laying the groundwork for eventual domination by GSW) Hard to argue with that logic, right?  And finally, for your consideration as the One True Arbiter of the KD Warriors…
12. Keyzer Soze? (“The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn’t exist”)  You can’t fool me, Soze.  I always knew you were behind this.

 

Some Questions Re: Championship DNA

By Jake Sweltz

During game 4 of the NBA Western Conference Finals on Tuesday, Reggie Miller commented that Trevor Ariza was the only player on the Rockets with “Championship DNA.”  I have a few questions.

How is Championship DNA measured?

Are you born with Championship DNA?  Or do you acquire it by winning a championship?

Does everyone who wins a championship have Championship DNA?  Does Mario Chalmers have Championship DNA?

Is Championship DNA transferable?  That is to say, if you have Championship DNA, are teams that you play for in the future more likely to win a championship?  Or do championship-winning teams only consist of players who were born with Championship DNA?

Does every team that’s loaded top to bottom with Championship DNA win a championship?  What if two (or more) teams have the exact same amount of Championship DNA?

What if everyone on the roster has Championship DNA, except for one player?  Does his/her lack of Championship DNA prevent potential championship-winning teams from winning a championship?

Is Championship DNA permanent?  Is it possible to be dispossessed of Championship DNA, and if so, what sort of atrocious sin against the sport would it take for that to happen?

Does Phil Jackson still have Championship DNA?  What about Derek Jeter?

Is there somewhere I can buy Championship DNA online?  What conditions would be required for Championship DNA to be stored and shipped through the mail internationally?

Does Championship DNA have to be refrigerated?

A Well Respected Man: How Randy Wittman Got Fired and Still Won

By Jake Sweltz

Once upon a time, Randy Wittman was an NBA punchline.  A year and a half ago, before he unleashed Paul Pierce at power forward and won a playoff series, Wittman had come to symbolize Washington’s stubborn commitment to goodness over greatness.  Man, that backcourt is something special, but they need a real coach! 

Fast forward to April 14, 2016.  The Wizards finally announce they’ve dismissed head coach Randy Wittman.  The move was expected for weeks; Beal’s been hurt, the team has looked disinterested, and in any case, management wants to hire Scotty Brooks in a feeble attempt to lure KD to D.C.  Everyone agrees Wittman is basically a scape goat for a lost season rather than a mediocre coach who probably should have been canned two years earlier.  In the meantime, Randy racked up enough wins to become (statistically) one of the “most successful coaches in Wizards history.”

I’d say that’s a pretty favorable development for the Wittman narrative.  And he deserves it!  Sure, he was never going to be Phil Jackson, but he established a coherent (if somewhat conservative) culture and style of play in Wizard world.  As Wall developed and Beal struggled with injuries, Wittman dutifully steered the ship.  He whipped the team into good enough shape for the media to start complaining that he wasn’t “elite” enough to lead them in the playoffs, and pretty soon he was popping up on Vine (which, unless you’re Jay Wright, is never a good look for a basketball coach).

Beating Toronto last year helped a bit, but the rap on Wittman had always been that he was out of his depth.  That’s probably as true today as it ever was, but this listless Wizards season has shifted the blame for Washington’s dysfunction way beyond Wittman.

Go figure that after his worst season in three years, Randy’s rep might actually be in better shape than ever.

R.I.P. Phoenix Suns (2013-2014) – Eulogizing the NBA’s Motliest Crew

By Jake Sweltz

 

“It’s better to burn out than to fade away…”

It was Neil Young who wrote those words, and Kurt Cobain who infamously commandeered them, but neither figure could shred like the 2013-14 Phoenix Suns.

Alas, the Suns have finally set in the West.  Their playoff hopes were extinguished by the Memphis Grizzlies at US Airways Center on Monday, as the team lost 97-91 in a game that saw 15 fourth quarter lead changes.  Phoenix went down early; the Grizzlies had a 13-point advantage with three minutes to go in the first half.  Then, just as they had all year long, the Suns scrapped back, and by the final quarter, the score was tied at 67.

Phoenix’s resistance was glorious, but ultimately futile.  Just as in its previous two games (each almost equally as crucial), they were narrowly out-dueled in the final minute, capping their epic season-ending trilogy of tragedy.

But let’s not dwell on the sad times.  We’re not here to mourn how the Suns died.  We’re here to celebrate how they lived.

Two weeks ago, there were three bubble teams clawing for the last two playoff seeds in the most loaded conference in years:

(1) The Memphis Grizzlies.  A team that won 56 games and made the Western Conference Finals just last year and that has made no major roster changes except adding a bench guy who can actually shoot (Mike Miller).  A team with an elite defense that features one of the league’s most skilled two-way big men in Marc Gasol.  Not to mention the indomitable Zach Randolph, somehow averaging a double-double from deep under the Earth’s crust.  A franchise widely recognized and respected as a force to be reckoned with for the foreseeable future.

(2) The Dallas Mavericks.  A grizzled squad of battle-tested sharp shooters and savvy veterans.  Plus Monta Ellis, who actually posted great efficiency numbers and blossomed into a top two-guard.  A team with perennial All-Star and future Hall of Famer Dirk Nowitzki still shooting the same percentages he did at 30, still climbing the all-time scoring ladder with the same frightening speed, and still sinking unguardable fadeaways in the grills of flummoxed forwards on a nightly basis.  A group helmed by long-time basketball guru and noted Carrey-lookalike Rick Carlisle.  A franchise with one of the strongest cultures in the NBA, a smart owner, and a history of success.

(3) The Phoenix Suns?  The team that traded its starting center a week before the season began?  The squad that lost its starting point guard and prize offseason acquisition for 40 games?  The franchise that hired a rookie coach and signed an arsenal of anonymous three-point bombing strangers?  The team that hasn’t made the playoffs since the days when Steve Nash and Amar’e Stoudemire were more than just walking (painfully lurching?) contracts?  The team that Vegas projected to win 19 games and contend for nothing except the top draft pick?  Those Phoenix Suns?

If you asked any reasonable NBA fan before the season which of those three teams would get squeezed out, is there any doubt who they’d pick?  So sure, at the end of the day, the Suns did eventually set in the West.  Maybe that’s just nature taking its course, but honestly, what sounds natural about a roster consisting of the following characters:

Eric “the Bled-Show” Bledsoe

The six foot ninja with speed like Sonic the Hedgehog and athleticism that has been compared to LeBron James.  Bledsoe turned heads last year as the backup point guard for the Clippers after Chris Paul went down, but there was widespread skepticism around the league that he could match the value of a real franchise player.  Over time, that might prove true, but as long as he keeps slicing up guards and blocking the shit out of 6’11” dudes, he’s worth every penny on highlight credit alone.

Goran “the Dragon” Dragic

The skinny Slovenian with the ever-pubescent crustache and the on-court approach of a highly caffeinated coyote.  In a league chock full of talented point guards, Dragic has flown under the radar for several years, and now he’s getting national attention as an All-NBA candidate.  His always-effective, super-funky Euro slash and kick game reached a new level this season.  As Grantland’s Kirk Goldsberry pointed out, Dragic is third in the league in creating corner three opportunities, behind only LeBron James and John Wall, two of the league’s biggest franchise cornerstones.  As ambiguous as the criteria for Most Improved Player is, it seems pretty obvious that Dragic should be a leading candidate to take home that hardware.

Miles “the Plum” Plumlee 

The overlooked big man who you don’t take seriously until you actually watch him play a couple games and realize he’s just busting his freaking ass out there.  He’s averaging eight points and eight boards, which is beyond good for guy who didn’t see a single significant minute off the bench in Indiana.  But in a way, stats are besides the point.  This piece of Luis Scola trade driftwood turned out solid as an oak tree, and that’s all his team needed.

Gerald “Lean, Mean” Green

The buzzer-beating, gravity-defying, mean-mugging Super Mario of the NBA.  The player most likely to actually be an NBA Jam avatar magically wished to life.  A guy who bounced around in and out of the league for years, who was playing in Russia and seemed destined to wash out as an über athletic afterthought before finding a home in Phoenix.  He started out with the Celtics as a physical freak of nature who just couldn’t grasp the nuances of the pro game.  Over time, he honed his skills, but was still known mostly as a one-dimensional dunker until he started putting up scorching numbers for the Suns during Bledsoe’s injury.  He evens out as a reliable spark plug off the bench, but if you give him a lane, he’ll still swallow your soul.

The Morris Twins

The butt of countless jokes before the season about symbolizing the arbitrary gimmickry of Phoenix’s roster, Marcus and Markieff both ended up having career years, with Markieff in the running for several NBA awards, including Sixth Man of the Year and Most Improved.  (But, then again, you could make a case for virtually every player on this Suns squad for the latter.)

And that’s before even getting to guys like Channing Frye, PJ Tucker, and Ish Smith.  Seriously, right when you think this Phoenix team can’t get any more fun, you remember that they have dudes named Channing, PJ, and Ish.  Is it too late to add the Suns to my Coolest NBA Roll Call list?

But I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the man behind the clipboard, first-year coach and cheek-rubbing enthusiast Jeff Hornacek.  The man took a roster of young unknowns, low-radar journeymen, underwhelming role players, and no starting center, and he turned it into literally the winningest regular season team ever to miss the playoffs.  It’s often hard to parse how much influence a coach truly has on the success of his team, but in this case there can be no doubt.  Virtually every player on this roster ended up outperforming their career averages by some significant measure.  Hornacek is, to me, the most obvious and deserving choice for Coach of the Year, and despite the number of worthy candidates this season (S/O to Thibodeau, Carlisle, Popovich, and Stotts) I suspect he’ll win it.  After all, Phoenix was the feel-good story of the season all year long; absolutely everybody loved this Suns team: fans, media, players, everybody.

And that’s really the thing I’ll miss the most about this year’s squad.  The damn near universal adoration for this unlikely team of lovable misfits that succeeded despite the odds.  Which is what delineates these gratifying underdog stories, right?  The odds?  Because once a long shot beats the odds, they’re not a long shot anymore.  They lose the very essence of what made them special in the first place.

Next year, the Suns won’t be the league’s goofy Slumdog Millionaire, plundering victories from established contenders.  They’ll be one of those established contenders, and that means they’ll have to deal with all the not-so-fun baggage that being an emergent competitor entails.  “Can Eric Bledsoe make the next leap?”  “Will Hornacek get fired if they don’t make the playoffs?”  “You know, Miles Plumlee isn’t the long-term answer at center.”  “Does this team need to trade for another superstar?”  And so on.

There’s no doubt that after this season, the Phoenix Suns are in a better place.  And yet, I still can’t help but shed a tear for the loss of their childlike spirit.  Liberated from the burden of competitive expectations, the Suns were free to spread their wings and fly the way they wanted.  Because a team that’s not weighed down is a team that might soar highest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

God bless the 2013-14 Phoenix Suns.

Shine on you crazy diamonds.

 

(all images courtesy of Google Search)

 

 

The Perennial Favorite: Ruminating on Roger Federer

On the eve of his umpteenth late-round matchup with Rafael Nadal, does the 17-time Grand Slam Champion have enough in the tank to win another major?

By Jake Sweltz

 

It’s easy to call Roger Federer ageless.  His picture-perfect mechanics, his textbook footwork, his exquisite touch, all of it has remained stunningly identical to the technique he demonstrated in 2003 (the year he first won Wimbledon, beginning a run of dominance unparalleled in the history of professional tennis).  But there’s something about Federer’s aesthetic continuity that goes beyond his game.  Even his face, with its features both sharp yet soft, is a constantly familiar canvas of boyish handsomeness.  The man seems perpetually frozen in time, as though he were some kind of athletically appareled immortal.  A bandanna’d Dorian Gray, all decked out in Nike sweat gear.  Peter Pan in stretch polyester.

But Federer doesn’t live in Neverland, and that’s become increasingly obvious over the past few seasons.  He hasn’t reached a Slam final since winning Wimbledon in July 2012, the same year he last held the ATP’s no. 1 ranking.  Last summer, after suffering his worst major defeat in nearly a decade (losing in Wimbledon’s 2nd round to Sergiy Stakhovsky, ranked no. 116 at the time), a question once unthinkable suddenly became all too reasonable: “Is this the end of Roger Federer?”

Of course, in the realm of international tennis, “the end” is a tremendously relative term.  Federer finished 2013 as the world no. 6, a ranking countless players would die to achieve even once in their entire career.  But for a player like Federer, a player the sport has largely embraced as no less than the Greatest of All Time, falling to no. 6 is roughly equivalent to Zeus falling off Mount Olympus.

Roger Federer might be immortal, but he’s not eternal.  And now, with yet another shot at yet another title on the line, he’s finally playing like he knows it.

– – –

This Friday will mark Federer’s eleventh consecutive Australian Open semifinals appearance, his longest remaining streak of sustained success among the four major tournaments.  Still, it feels like ages since he’s been a real factor in Melbourne, partially because this is where Novak Djokovic has so frequently dominated the narrative (he’s won the last three).  But more than that, the past three Aussie Open semifinals have proven symbolically tragic for Federer.  A year after winning the title in 2010, he was beaten in straight sets by the ascendent Djokovic.  The following year, he was defeated by Rafael Nadal in four sets.  A year later, he lost a five-setter to Andy Murray.  By now, the Rivalry had been firmly displaced by the “Big Four,” and each encroaching player could claim a signature win over Federer in Rod Laver Arena.

It was within this ominous context that Federer faced off against Andy Murray in the quarterfinals Wednesday morning.  Three years ago, this matchup would barely have warranted a passing glance.  Now, it’s a different story.  These days, a significant Federer victory is far from assured, and maybe even unlikely.  Murray was not to be taken lightly.

And yet, for the first two sets, you could have sworn it really was three years ago.  The first set lasted all of thirty minutes, with Federer capturing an early break and breezing through his own service games with little effort.  Murray, on the other hand, had reverted to the kind of clumsiness and frustration that made him a punchline among pundits not long ago.  He looked helpless trying to deal with Federer’s efficient serve-and-volley approach, and his body language was telling the story every bit as well as the score.

By the middle of the second set, Federer had made a cozy home at the net, but Murray was finally starting to come around.  Federer’s age betrays him when it comes to arduous baseline-to-baseline rallies, and after going down a break, Murray began initiating those more and more.  By the time Federer closed out the set, it was clear Murray had found a groove.

Despite ultimately winning the match, seeing Federer fade a bit down the stretch against a more assertive Murray leaves me wondering if he will ever again possess the pure physicality to hang with Nadal.  When the Spaniard starts launching those late-set baseline body blows, will Federer still have enough in the tank to respond?

He seems to think so.  “I am back physically,” he commented after the match.  “I’m explosive out there.  I can get to balls.  I’m not afraid to go for balls.”  But who is he really trying to convince?

It’s true that Federer looked strong and agile throughout much of the match, but what stood out even more than his movements during the run of play were his reactions after the points had ended.  Since his maturation around 2004, Federer hasn’t often let his emotions rise to the surface during matches, but I’ll be damned if he didn’t look like he actually cared about the outcome on Wednesday.  He was fist-pumping after half-volleys, drooping his head after backhands sent just wide, shouting in triumph after forehand winners.  You could read the tension on his face with every big opportunity, and that was something that we simply hadn’t seen from Federer during his run of dominance.

This Friday, he and Nadal will be going head-to-head yet again in a major late-round showdown, and for that we should all be grateful.  Part of what makes athletic greatness so inspiring to witness is our knowledge that it can’t last forever.  Transcendence is transient.  Time marches on, our idols grow old, retire and sell underwear.  But none of that matters when the ball is in play.  How can mortality possibly be real as we watch these heroic specimens perform feats beyond all physical comprehension and believe, for a moment in time, that we live among gods?

A Brief and Arbitrary Ode to Russell Westbrook

By Jake Sweltz

The Oklahoma City Thunder are playing the Atlanta Hawks tonight.  It’s not a particularly noteworthy game, but I’m going to go ahead and use it as a paper-thin excuse to post this short bit of prose I wrote last season about Russell Westbrook, Destroyer of Worlds.  I’m also going to include an obligatory Westbrook finger gun GIF to top it off.  Enjoy.

Russell Westbrook plays basksetball like a roided-out jackrabbit.  He has the athletecism of a mini-LeBron, but he doesn’t bottle it up the way James does.  He lets it bubble and boil over the pot.

Westbrook plays an aggressive, volatile style, like Troy Polamalu in his prime.  In the frame one second and out the next (and vice versa).  He commits plays with a heedless energy that can’t be tamed.  And yet even his clumsiest maneuvers still somehow look graceful.  His basketball is Youthful Exuberance personified.  Flashy and frivolous, headstrong and beautiful.

 

Never change, Russ.

Yankee Swap: Some Thoughts on New York Baseball’s Big Weekend

By Jake Sweltz

Haters gonna hate; Yankees gonna Yank.

Mere hours after reports surfaced that Robinson Cano had agreed to sign with the Seattle Mariners for 10 years and $240 million, the Yanks struck back with yet another flashy deal of their own.

Even if New York’s acquisition of Carlos Beltran for three years and $45 million doesn’t quite approach the proportions of last Tuesday’s Jacoby Ellsbury signing (7 years, $153 million), it still qualifies as one of the splashier moves we’ve seen from this already very exciting offseason.  And as if that wasn’t enough big New York baseball news for one Friday, the Mets went out and nabbed Curtis Granderson for four years and $60 million.

It’s been hot-stove bedlam in the boroughs the last few days, so I figured I’d break out the React-O-Meter to make some completely unfounded conclusions about how all these deals will play out for the Yanks/Mets over the next couple seasons.  Also, I guess I’ll have to mention the Mariners somewhere too, but no worries; I’ll keep those thoughts nice and breezy.  But first things first:

The Beltran deal is an overpay, but the Yanks still had to do it.

Was the Beltran signing a panic move for the Yankees?  My buddy Lou says yes, and he’s probably right, but here’s the thing: it doesn’t really make a difference.

The Yankees home attendance has been steadily declining for the past few years, and with their best player now leaving town to join the freaking MARINERS, that trend is likely to continue.  New York thrives on star power, and with Cano and Granderson both exiting stage left, the Yankees have decidedly less of it than ever before.  That’s why the Beltran deal makes way more sense than it should.

Skill-wise, there’s no question Beltran is on the decline.  FanGraph’s Dave Cameron points out that his value going into next season projects at about league-average, and that’s only going to get worse.  Cameron writes that he’s “not entirely sure why they saw it necessary to pay this much for Carlos Beltran’s late-30’s” after refusing to pay for Cano’s.

Here’s why: Major League Baseball is about more than sensible team-building.  And that goes double for New York Yankee baseball.  It’s an unfortunate reality and a hard pill for baseball purists to swallow, but the plain and simple fact of the matter is that the Yankees need to put asses in seats, and Beltran will generate way more asses than all the Nate McClouths and David Murphys of the world possibly could.

The counterargument, of course, is that if the Yankees can manage to build a winning team, the fans will show up no matter who’s on the field.  That may be true, but let’s not kid ourselves. Regardless of who the Yankees sign, they aren’t sniffing the playoffs unless the rest of the AL East decides to start playing cricket.  They might as well sell some tickets on their way to another fourth place finish.  As for New York City’s other squad:

The Mets front office may have defied the laws of physics by finally making a competent decision.

The Curtis Granderson signing was an impressively savvy move; I didn’t think the Mets had it in them.

I might be biased since Granderson has been my favorite Yankee for the past several years (or at least the only Yankee I haven’t felt an abject disdain towards), and I’ve always felt like he was a little underrated despite his three all-star appearances.  After an injury-plagued 2013 season, I feel like the league’s perceptions of his value dipped unfairly, and now the Mets have taken full advantage.

It’s hard to characterize a guy as obviously talented as Granderson an “under-the-radar” free agent, but somehow that’s exactly what he became this offseason.  A lot of critics have come out of the woodwork to hail this signing as the second coming of Jason Bay, but I just don’t see it happening that way.  Despite Granderson’s slightly advanced age, he’s speedier and more athletic than Bay ever was, and I feel strangely confident that his batting average and home run totals will bounce back to their 2012 levels even without the benefit of hitting in Yankee Stadium.

The bad news, of course, is that the Mets likely won’t be in a position to really contend until at least 2015 when Matt Harvey returns, and by then it’s possible that Granderson will have aged beyond his usefulness as an above average player.  But even if this turns out to be the case, the Mets have structured his deal in a way that doesn’t leave the team financially hamstrung the way some of their other signings in the past have.

The bottom line is that Granderson is a charming and charismatic star who we can reasonably expect will put up solid numbers during a down year or two for the boys in blue and orange.  He’ll be great for the fans, he’ll be great for the culture of the team, and he won’t leave the management’s hands tied for the future.  What’s not to like?

Let’s move on to one final reaction:

The Mariners got better (and much more exciting) by signing Cano, but they still stink…

…And will likely continue to stink for at least another two or three years.  I mean, they should still be proud of themselves: they locked up the best player on the market and finally have a superstar at the plate to pair with King Felix on the mound.  There’s no doubt in my mind that Seattle is headed in the right direction (granted, for this team there’s really nowhere to go but up).

I still can’t be bothered to care.  Wake me up when they break .500.

Which NBA Roster Has the Coolest Roll Call?

By Jake Sweltz

The 2013-14 NBA season isn’t even a month old yet, and already I have watched roughly three and half games involving the Sacramento Kings.  I know, I can’t explain it either.

Besides serving as a harsh reminder that I’m allergic to using my free time productively, all that sweet Sac-town action has also brought me to a shocking and highly important revelation: a lot of the Kings have cool names.  Like, by far the coolest collection of names in the NBA.

Of course, it’s debatable whether the guy with the single most interesting moniker plays for Sacto.  But for my money, the Kings as a whole have the best roll call in pro basketball, and it’s not really close.

When I first suspected this might be the case, I took it upon myself to launch a full investigative inquiry.  What follows is a list of the top squads around the league, strictly based on strength of roster names.  Each team gets a starting five, plus a sixth man in parentheses.

Again, the players’ actual talent level played no part in these power rankings; we’re talking strictly phonological/orthographical aesthetics here.  Alliteration, consonance/assonance, exotic spellings, all that good stuff, plus all the other intangibles that just make a name tickle your fancy.

Here are the final results:

1.) Sacramento Kings – Boogie Cousins, Travis Outlaw, Greivis Vasquez, Jimmer Fredette, Luc Mbah a Moute (Chuck Hayes)

Notes: Take heart, Kings fans.  Your players mostly suck, but their names are awesome.  I know that Cousins’ real first name is DeMarcus, but c’mon.  Every true hoops fan knows he’s Boogie.  Chuck Hayes is a sneaky-great rap name, and “loo-koom-bah-ah-moo-tay” is just a beautiful string of syllables no matter how you slice it.  Bonus points to the Kings for also having the coolest stadium name in the NBA (Sleep Train Arena).

2.) San Antonio Spurs – Manu Ginobli, Kawhi Leonard, Marco Belinelli, Boris Diaw, Tiago Splitter (Nando de Colo)

Notes: The Spurs have a reputation among casual fans for being a boring team, but their roster names are anything but.  “Tiago Splitter” has long flown under the radar as one of the more interesting and terrifying names in the league, and obviously I fully support the coolness credentials of the name “Boris,” especially when it belongs to a French black dude.  Kawhi and Ginobli sound as solid as ever, but the key that vaulted the Spurs to number two was their acquisition of Marco Belinelli and his spicy meatball of a moniker.

3.) New York Knickerbockers – Carmelo Anthony, Andrea Bargnani, Pablo Prigioni, J.R. Smith, Iman Shumpert (Metta World Peace)

Notes: The Knicks have always been deep in the “cool name” department.  Bernard King, Dave DeBusschere, Latrell Sprewell, Walt Frazier…and those are just the guys who were actually good at basketball.  It seems like having a boss name just comes with the territory of playing in New York and having it plastered all over MSG.  Then again, that might explain why they decided to pay a completely useless Amar’e Stoudemire (and his epic name) a gajillion dollars every year for the next seventeen decades.

Anyway, this year’s Knicks field a strong squad as always.  Melo continues to be their franchise “cool name” cornerstone.  “Who Shot J.R.” Smith is a solid second banana, and both Shump and Prigioni feature underrated tags.  Even though Metta World Peace has an undoubtedly stylish NBA name, I’ve relegated “The Artest Formerly Known as Ron” to the bench since he kind of just gave it to himself.

4.) Denver Nuggets – Ty Lawson, Danilo Gallinari, JaVale McGee, Timofey Mozgov, Randy Foye (J. J. Hickson)

Notes: The symmetry in “JaVale McGee” is a treat to hear out loud, and the double capital letters in both his first and last names make it look great on the page, too.  Ty Lawson’s two-letter first name is undeniably cool, and “Timofey Mozgov” sounds like someone Steven Seagal would face off against in a cheesy action movie.  Also, this list has revealed my fondness for names of Italian origin, so naturally I had to include “Danilo Gallinari” in Denver’s starting five.  Saying that name aloud is a fun little workout for the tongue.

5.) Orlando Magic – Victor Oladipo, Hedo Turkoglu, Maurice Harkless, Aaron Afflalo, Kyle O’Quinn (Tobias Harris)

Notes: The name “Victor Oladipo” is a priceless treasure, and I will fight anyone who tells me otherwise.  “Hedo Turkoglu” is a veteran cool name in this league, and I have to give props to anyone named “Tobias.”  Kendrick Lamar shouted out Aaron Afflalo on his song “Black Boy Fly,” and it was that cut that first drew my attention to Afflalo’s awe-inspiring name.  The alliteration factor is one thing, but saying it aloud evokes the image of a great phoenix rising from the ashes and spreading its wings.  It’s just beautiful.

6.) Detroit Pistons – Andre Drummond, Chauncey Billups, Luigi Datome, Kentavious Caldwell-Pope, Rodney Stuckey (Charlie Villanueva)

Notes: It’s a common misconception that hyphenated last names are always fun and/or interesting, but that’s actually rarely the case.  As well as Michael Carter-Williams has played so far this year for the 76ers, his name is the equivalent of a late-period Terrance Malick movie: one long drag.  But if MCW is Malick, KCP is Tarantino; his name is an adventure, a heinous joyride of electric pulp.  My onomastic fetish for Italian names bumps “Luigi Datome” up a few notches, and “Rodney Stuckey” is a delightful throwback.  It sounds like an ABA name or something.

7.) Milwaukee Bucks – O.J. Mayo, Zaza Pachulia, Giannis Antetokounmpo, Ersan Ilyasova, Carlos Delfino (Ekpe Udoh)

Notes: I’m still not entirely sure how to pronounce Giannis’ last name, but it sure looks glorious on the page.  “Zaza” is one of the finer first names in the league, and I like to think of O.J. Mayo’s name as orange juice-flavored mayonnaise.  My bizarre affection toward Carlos Delfino’s name probably comes from its nostalgic association in my mind to the Nintendo GameCube’s Super Mario Sunshine, the most underrated gem in the Super Mario canon.

8.) Golden State Warriors – Steph Curry, Klay Thompson, Andre Iguodala, Kent Bazemore, Festus Ezeli (Andrew Bogut)

Notes: The inclusion of Thompson in GSW’s starting five is solely based on the strength of his first name.  I’ve always liked the name “Clay,” and spelling it with a “K” is a small but inspired move.  It changes the whole tenor of the name without calling attention to itself as a creative alternate spelling (like in “Jrue Holiday”).  Everyone knows Iggy has a cool name, but I also want to give some shine to Kent Bazemore and Festus Ezeli for their underrated monikers.  As a side note, I just want to mention that whenever I see Andrew Bogut’s name on the page I always briefly read it as “Andrew Booger.”

9.) Chicago Bulls – Derrick Rose, Carlos Boozer, Luol Deng, Joakim Noah, Tony Snell (Kirk Hinrich)

Notes: Looking at this ranking again, I might have sold the Bulls a little short here.  Rose is a very dramatic last name, and I’ve always really appreciated the jaunty do-si-do of mouthing the name “Carlos Boozer.”  Deng and Noah’s names go together like peanut butter and jelly.  Tony Snell sounds like an oily bookie in a Scorsese flick, and Kirk Hinrich’s name is practically a palindrome.  I might have to re-think this whole situation.

10.) Washington Wizards – John Wall, Bradley Beal, Nenê, Marcin Gortat, Trevor Ariza (Otto Porter Jr.)

Notes: Did you know Nenê’s name at birth was Maybyner Rodney Hilário?  That’s pretty legendary, but I’m still glad he went minimalist for his NBA tag.  The suprise addition of Gortat before the season hasn’t quite yielded the on-court results the Wiz were hoping for, but for the purposes of this list, that pickup couldn’t have been more crucial.  The strong two-syllable punch of “John Wall” is a great complement to the alliteration in Beal’s name.  And even though we haven’t really seen Otto Porter Jr. on the court in Washington, I’m giving him the sixth man designation because we all need more Ottos in our lives.

11.) Minnesota Timberwolves – Kevin Love, Ricky Rubio, J.J. Barea, Shabazz Muhammad, Alexey Shved (Gorgui Dieng)

Notes: The appeal of the names “Ricky Rubio” and “Shabazz Muhammad” is obvious, but what I really want to highlight on this roster is the severe beauty of “Alexey Shved.”  Big ups to the T’Wolves for employing a Siberian fur trapper; I’m sure he feels right at home in the frigid Minnesota cold.   Saying “J.J. Barea” is equivalent to shooting off a verbal “J.J. Beretta,” and obviously I have to show Kevin the love for “Love”.  Solid squad here, for sure.