The Book of Basketball (116 page)

So really, the Wine Cellar Team is a jigsaw puzzle. I made my decisions easier with three ground rules:

1. Only vintage seasons that I remember witnessing live. That makes the ABA-NBA merger our cutoff date and gives us a time frame from 1977 to 2009.
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2. Emulate the best basketball team ever (the ’86 Celts) as closely as possible, not their talent as much as their unselfishness and we-can-do-anything flexibility.
   

3. Don’t forget that a formula of “unselfishness + character + defense + rebounding + MJ” will run the Martians out of the gym unless they have an eight-foot-three center we didn’t know about.
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From there, I worked backward and started with the following have-to-have-them guys who received check marks in the following categories: totally
unselfish, awesome teammate, enjoyed making others better, incredibly high basketball IQ, complete comprehension of The Secret. There were three in all.

’86 Larry Bird

25.8 PPG, 9.3 RPG, 8.2 APG, 2.1 SPG, 52–93–41 (18 playoff games)

Give him superior teammates and he’d reinvent himself as a complementary player, drain a few threes, post smaller dudes up, rove around on defense like a free safety, make everyone else better and take over if you needed him. Mike Fratello summed up Bird’s better-with-great-teammates qualities after coaching an ’88 All-Star game in which Bird scored six points and Jordan and ’Nique combined for sixty-nine: “Michael played well, Dominique played well, but the thing which really impressed me was the way Larry Bird subjugated himself. Larry Bird showed me more today than most people could possibly have noticed. From the standpoint of a coach, you’ve got to love seeing a man do all he did—come up with a couple of key steals, get back on defense continually, and break up about five fast-break opportunities. To me, he was like an overseer of the game. He saw what we needed, and he acted accordingly.” Yes. We need an overseer. That will be Bird.

’03 Tim Duncan

Playoffs: 24.7 PPG, 15.4 RPG, 5.3 APG, 3.3 BPG, 53–68 (24 games)

Greatest power forward ever, commander of a double team at all times, the ultimate teammate, and someone capable of playing center when we go small. Fits everything we want to do. A superior version of ’86 McHale.

’85 Magic Johnson

Playoffs: 17.5 PPG, 7.1 RPG, 15.2 APG, 51–85 (19 games).

For all the reasons covered in the Mouton-Rothschild paragraph. Like Bird, he would live to make everyone else better.

So that’s my three-man foundation along with Jordan. But which Jordan? He peaked athletically and statistically in ’91, peaked from a confidence level in ’92 and peaked as a competitor and winner in ’93 … but those three Jordan vintages were a little
too
competitive. Even with the future of the universe at stake, that might not deter him from undermining the confidence of certain teammates (imagine him scrimmaging against Kobe or LeBron) and turning every practice into an all-out war to constantly reaffirm his alpha status. Would we rather have ’96 Jordan? You know, the guy who was humbled from his baseball experience, more appreciative of his gifts, a more understanding and supportive teammate, just as competitive and hungry, a little less explosive but more efficient, smarter about his own limitations, someone who treasured The Secret completely? Hmmmmmm. Let’s go here.

’92 Michael Jordan

Playoffs: 34.5 PPG, 6.2 RPG, 5.8 APG, 2.8 stocks, 50–86–39 (22 games)
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And here’s why: prebaseball MJ struggled only to coexist with
shitty
teammates. He’s not playing with Brad Sellers and Will Perdue on the Wine Cellar Team. He’ll be fine. If he didn’t cause problems with the Dream Team, he won’t cause problems with the greatest team ever assembled. We want our best scorer coming off title number two at the peak of his powers; extending that ’86 Celtics framework, imagine switching Jordan with Danny Ainge and what he would have inflicted. Yikes. And since we’re pay-per-viewing scrimmages to raise money for the cities destroyed by the evil Martians, any die-hard hoops fan will pony up to see him battling Young LeBron, Young Wade and/or Young Kobe for eight solid weeks.
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For the center spot, I can’t hold grudges with the future of the world at
stake. I need the surest two points of all time. I need the sky hook. I need Kareem. Any doubts I had about him embracing The Secret were erased in a 1980
Sports Illustrated
feature, when he explained a decision to play after a debilitating migraine like this: “These guys are my teammates, but they are also my friends. They needed me.” Yes! Sounds like something Russell would say. Hence …

’77 Kareem Abdul-Jabbar

Playoffs: 34.6 PPG, 17.7 RPG, 4.1 APG, 5.2 stocks, 61–73 (11 games)

That’s our starting five: ’86 Bird, ’03 Duncan, ’85 Magic, ’92 Jordan and ’77 Kareem. You cannot assemble a better five-man unit of modern guys. Our five backups should complement them in every conceivable way (while grasping The Secret, of course).

’86 Kevin McHale

Playoffs: 24.9 PPG, 8.6 RPG, 2.7 APG, 2.4 BPG, 58–79 (18 games)

The most efficient low-post scorer ever. McHale comes in, we post him up, he scores six out of ten times (not counting foul shots). On the other end, he guards players ranging from six-foot-four to seven-foot-four, plays power forward or center and adapts to any style. The Martians
will
have to plan for McHale. In fact, they might look at his body and think he’s a fellow alien.

’92 Scottie Pippen

Playoffs: 19.5 PPG, 8.8 RPG, 6.7 APG, 3.0 stocks, 47–76 (22 games)

The best perimeter defender ever, a world-class athlete and someone who can swing between forward and guard and even play point forward. If one of the Martians gets hot, I’m unleashing Jordan or Pippen on him. Also, we need him for our Murderous Press, that’s about fifteen paragraphs away from rocking your world.

’77 Bill Walton

Playoffs: 18.2 PPG, 15.2 RPG, 5.5 APG, 3.4 BPG, 51–69 (19 games)

No modern center had a greater effect on his teammates. We want a combination rebounder, shot blocker and passer who would be overjoyed to join forces with the greatest collection of talent ever assembled. And as we learned in ’86, the Walton Experience works splendidly in short doses.
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’05 Ron Artest

Playoffs: (DNP)

Just kidding. He’d start an intergalactic melee. We need an MJ backup, though. What about …

’01 Kobe Bryant

Playoffs: 29.4 PPG, 7.3 RPG, 6.1 APG, 47–82–32 (16 games).

Best-case scenario: Young Kobe performs a reasonable MJ impression as Jordan’s caddy. It’s conceivable because he hasn’t gone Teen Wolf yet and he’s young enough to understand his place in the pecking order. If we asked him to play 15 minutes a game, kill himself defensively, push Jordan in practice and serve as his valet during games, Young Kobe probably says yes. Older Kobe would think, “Wait a second, why should I take a backseat to Michael? I’m just as good as he is!” That’s why we need Young Kobe.

Worst-case scenario: Young Kobe gets totally caught up in the whole “I need to prove that I’m as good as MJ” thing, jacks up shots in games and keeps challenging Jordan in practice to the point that we can’t put them on different teams in scrimmages anymore.

(Actually, why am I even risking it? Couldn’t we just go here?)

’09 Dwyane Wade

Regular season: 30.2 PPG, 7.5 APG, 5.2 RPG, 2.2 SPG, 49–77–32 (79 games)

For five reasons: (a) ’09 Wade performed the best Jordan imitiation yet; (b) it can’t be forgotten how he thrived off the bench during the ’08 Olympics; (c) I don’t have to worry about chemistry; (d) he can handle the ball at point in a pinch; and (e) Lakers fans will be furious that I bumped Kobe. This is a win-win all the way around. Sorry, Kobe. Just remember, I didn’t do this
… you
did this.
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’09 Chris Paul

Regular season: 22.9 PPG, 11.0 APG, 5.5 RPG, 2.8 SPG, 50–87–36 (77 games)

The Evolutionary Isiah and the front of our Murderous Press, as well as the perfect Magic backup (capable of handling any waterbug point guard) and a second ballhandler/cooler for when we’re protecting a lead in the last 30 seconds.

For our last two spots, we’re going with luxuries …

’09 LeBron James

Regular season: 28.4 PPG, 7.6 RPG, 7.2 APG, 1.69 SPG, 49–78–34 (82 games)

I considered ’89 Dennis Rodman before realizing he broke my Only One Head Case (you can get away with one head case, but if you have two, they might end up hanging out) and Nobody on My Wine Cellar Team Can
Appear on Celebrity Apprentice at Any Point in Their Lives rules. No thanks. The ’09 LeBron gives us more smallball options, an über-athlete who can play four positions (à la ’82 Magic) and the next to final piece of our Murderous Press that’s now making you giddy, as well as a phenomenal teammate and competitor who might even challenge Bird for minutes. I’m downgrading him as the eleventh guy only because he’s still two or three years away from becoming the player we know he’ll be.
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’01 Ray Allen

Playoffs: 25.1 PPG, 4.1 RPG, 6.0 APG, 48–92–47 (11 games)

Gets the nod over Reggie Miller as our official thooler (designated three-point shooter and end-of-the-game cooler).
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I mean, look at those percentages again! Are you kidding me?

So here’s the final Wine Cellar Team: ’77 Kareem, ’03 Duncan, ’86 Bird, ’92 Jordan, ’85 Magic (starters); ’86 McHale, ’92 Pippen, ’09 Wade, ’77 Walton, ’09 LeBron, ’09 Paul, ’01 Allen (bench). Check out the plethora of options we have with those twelve guys.

Best crunch-time lineup: Kareem, Bird, Duncan/McHale, Jordan, Magic.

With the following caveats: if McHale is on fire, maybe we play him over Duncan … if Bird/Magic is getting killed defensively, maybe we throw in Pippen/LeBron and/or Paul/Wade … and if we want to downsize, we can play Duncan/McHale at center and insert LeBron or Wade for Kareem. If we need a basket, we run something for Jordan or go inside/outside game with Bird/Kareem. We also have Duncan on the high post if we want to
run a play through him. And we have Magic ready to run off every miss with Bird, Duncan, and Jordan. Put it this way: we have options, and then some.

Best defensive lineup (bigger): McHale/Duncan/Kareem (two of three), Pippen, Jordan, Wade/Paul.
You’re not scoring on those guys. Period.

Best defensive lineup (smaller): McHale/Duncan, LeBron, Pippen, Jordan, Wade/Paul.
Ditto.
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Best fast break lineup: Walton/Duncan, Bird, LeBron/Pippen, Jordan/Wade, Magic/Paul.
Holy schnikes. Lots of options here. We can run with some combination of nearly every guy on our team.

Best smallball lineup: LeBron, Pippen, Jordan, Wade, Paul.
Fascinating because you could get away with this quintet defensively if you pushed the pace and trapped all over the place (it would be like the ’07 Warriors on acid). Admit it, you’re moving to the edge of your seat when this lineup comes in. You could also insert Magic for Wade or Pippen if you wanted to relive the Magic/Nixon salad days.

Best bigball lineup: Kareem, Walton/Duncan, McHale, LeBron/Pippen, Bird.
With LeBron or Pippen at point forward. Yes, you could play them together and it would work—no different from Walton, Parish, McHale, Bird and DJ flourishing in the ’86 Playoffs. In fact, this might be my favorite look yet.

Best three-point shooting lineup: LeBron, Bird, Jordan, Allen, Paul.
My least favorite wrinkle since I only have two deadly bombers and I’d much
rather have three. (Note to Steve Nash: You almost made the Wine Cellar Team simply as a better version of the ’96 Steve Kerr.) On the other hand, I have Larry Bird and Ray Allen. So all isn’t lost.

Best free-throw-shooting lineup: Bird, Jordan, Paul, Magic, Allen.
Nobody under 85 percent and two over 90 percent. We would not blow a lead in the final 45 seconds.

Most intriguing lineup: Walton, Bird, LeBron, Magic, Jordan.
Four superior passers with Jordan. I am giddy.

The murderous press: Duncan, LeBron, Pippen, Wade, Paul.
I’m borrowing this idea from Rick Pitino, who told Malcolm Gladwell that if he ever coached in the NBA again, he would pick five of his bench guys to practice exclusively on a full-court press, then play them once a half for four or five minutes at a time. Their sole purpose would be to create havoc, wear opponents down, exploit opposing bench guys and shift momentum. And they would. Would you want to bring the ball up against a press with these five guys prowling around like cheetahs? It would be like throwing against a ten-man secondary, right?
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