The Book of Basketball (72 page)

93.
Payton was listed as playing “Rumeal Smith” in the closing credits, even though they never mentioned his character’s name in the movie. Really, they couldn’t have called him “Gary Dayton” or “Gary Parton”? How did they come up with Rumeal Smith? This has been bothering me for 13 years.

94.
George Karl murdered Seattle by not switching GP onto MJ until Game 4. Karl goes down as the most overrated coach of his era—nobody had more guys quit on him, botched more games and series or made more excuses.

95.
At halftime of Game 1 of the ’94 Nuggets series, before the Sonics infamously blew a 2–0 lead to an eighth seed, Payton and Ricky Pierce had an altercation that led to both guys threatening to get their guns before things calmed down. It was just like the fight Rick Reilly and I had at the 2008 ESPYs.

96.
What would be the equivalent in other walks of life? Greg Maddux pitching as a setup man for the Yankees in 2009, then receiving congrats in the dugout because he extricated himself from a seventh-inning jam in the World Series? Springsteen getting a standing O at the Meadowlands after a rocking solo in his new gig as the harmonica player for Modest Mouse?

97.
I have multiple New York friends who swear that Knicks fans were subconsciously predisposed to root against Ewing because so many Knicks fans love St. John’s and that was the height of the Johnnies-Hoyas Big East rivalry back then.

98.
Ewing never cracked the top three in rebounding and currently has the 57th-highest career rebounding average, just ahead of Sikma (60th), Laimbeer (61st) and Rony Seikaly (70th).

99.
Notice how I avoided any mention of the excruciating Knicks-Heat playoff battles? I always wanted a Bizarro ESPN Classic channel that featured programming like
NBA’s Greatest Games: Miami 65, New York 56, SportsCentury and Beyond: Rusty Hilger, The Very Best of the Magic Hour, Games That Ended Prematurely Because Somebody Died, Actors Who Threw Like Women
(hosted by Tim Robbins),
Best Magic Johnson Comebacks, Inside Schwartz, NHL Instant Classic: Columbus at Minnesota
and
Nancy Lieberman’s 500 Most Awkward Sideline Interviews.

100.
When Ewing became head of the Players Association, it was like finding out that Flavor Flav had been named the president of Viacom.

101.
My favorite Ewing moment: When an Atlanta strip joint (Gold Club) was busted for drugs and prostitution, a number of celebs were revealed as pay-for-play customers in the ensuing trial, including Ewing, who made the following testimony: “The girls danced, started fondling me, I got aroused, they performed oral sex. I hung around a little bit and talked to them, then I left.” As Marv Albert would say,
yes!

102.
His original examples: Donyell Marshall (’95 UConn), Peyton Manning (’98 Tennessee), Keith Van Horn (’98 Utah), Don Mattingly (’96 Yankees), Bret Hart (’97 WWF).

103.
Some enjoyable pop culture examples: Shannen Doherty
(90210)
, David Lee Roth (Van Halen), Shelley Long
(Cheers)
, David Caruso
(NYPD Blue)
, Sonny Corleone (the Corleones), Craig Kilborn
(Daily Show).

104.
The 50–40–90 Club covers anyone who topped 50% FG, 40% 3FG and 90% FT shooting in one season. Not easy.

105.
No small feat. Here’s how I described Thomas in 2008: “Is there an NBA forward alive who couldn’t average 31 minutes, 12 points, five rebounds and three assists, miss 70 percent of his 3-pointers and allow his guy to score at will? If baseball has VORP (value over replacement player), then basketball should have VOTT (value over Tim Thomas). He’s such a dog that PETA might protest this paragraph.” Ten months later,
Basketball Prospectus
unveiled a WARP stat that revealed Thomas scored
exactly at replacement level
for the ’08 and ’09 seasons. Stu Scott, give me a boo yeah!

106.
We can’t use seatbelts, and we can’t put a rope around the bench because a player could go flying into the rope during play and get practically decapitated … but what about an electric-fence-type device where they’d get shocked if they ventured onto the court, like what people use with their dogs in the backyard? Wouldn’t that be worth it just to see Eddy Curry zone out, stand up to stretch and accidentally electroshock himself?

107.
The hand check rule changes helped Nash. So did the speeding up of the games. And more than anyone else, he thrived once the refs started looking the other way on illegal screens.

108.
They had an alpha dog battle that revolved around important stuff like “Why did he get the best seat on the charter last night?” and “Why is his locker in a better spot than mine?” Also, they fought over a chew toy once. Whoops, I’m thinking of my dogs. Sorry.

109.
That’s like driving the nicest-smelling New York City cab.

110.
The “soft” tag started in ’03 when Dirk refused to limp around with an injured knee in the ’03 Conference Finals. Strangely, nobody remembers this decision now.

111.
Ginobili’s dumb foul takes its rightful place alongside Rasheed leaving Big Shot Brob in the ’05 Finals, Pau Gasol not helping Ray Allen on the game-clinching drive (Game 4, ’08 Finals) and no Kings fouling Shaq on the offensive rebound right before Big Shot Brob’s game-winning shot (Game 4, Kings-Lakers series) as one of the four dumbest defensive plays of the decade.

112.
In a seven-game stretch from Game 3 of the Spurs series through Game 3 of the Suns series, Dirk averaged a 29–15. Yikes.

113.
That’s how Stephen Jackson throttled him in the ’07 playoffs, although we didn’t know about that yet because we’re still in the NBA time machine, remember?

114.
I also liked the idea of a 42 Club because it reminded me of the Five-Timer Club on
SNL
for five-time hosts, only there was no way to have a weak link like Elliott Gould. Everyone was Tom Hanks and Steve Martin.

115.
If we made a Platinum wing in the 42 Club for any member who also topped 50% FG shooting and 80% FT shooting that same playoffs, our Platinum members would be Jordan (4x), Bird (2x) and that’s it. Also, please tell Patrick Ewing that the Platinum wing of the 42 Club isn’t a place for him to get blown.

116.
I made up that word: “dubulent” is a cross between “dubious” and “fraudulent.” If Webster’s ever picks it up, they should just show Wade’s free throw numbers in the ’06 Finals as its definition.

117.
I just felt like breaking the “most Corey Haim references ever made in one paragraph in a sports book” record. I was feeling it.

NINE
THE PYRAMID: LEVEL 3

36. GEORGE MIKAN

Resume: 9 years, 7 quality, 4 All-Stars … Top 5 (’50, ’51, ’52, ’53, ’54) … leader: scoring (3x), rebounds (2x) … best player for 7 straight champs (including NBL and BAA) … 3-year peak: 28–14–3, 42% FG … playoffs: 23–14 (60 g’s)

Give yourself a high five because you just reached the dumbest moment of the book. I mean, where would
you
rank the best player of the pre-shot-clock era? Calling someone the greatest pre-shot-clock force is like calling One on One: Dr. J vs. Larry Bird the greatest computer sports game of the
early eighties.
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In other words, you’re not saying much. The six-foot-ten Mikan peaked with a tiny three-second lane, no shot clock, no seven-footers, no goaltending rules and barely any black players … and it’s not like he was throwing up Wilt-like numbers. Look how he compared to his peers during his last four quality years (1951–54).
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So Mikan led everyone in scoring and rebounding (but not in a staggering way) while attempting the most shots (by far) in a sport tailored to his specific attributes and talents (size and toughness). Make no mistake: Big George was
not
dynamic to watch. Here’s how Leonard Koppett described him: “The Lakers would bring the ball up slowly, waiting for the lumbering Mikan to get into position in the pivot. Then they would concentrate on getting the ball in to Big George, whose huge left elbow would open a swath as he turned into the basket…. Mikan was simply too big in bulk to be blocked out. He couldn’t jump very high, but he didn’t have to. He couldn’t run, but he didn’t have to.” No wonder the league nearly went under. The sport started moving against Mikan before the 1951–52 season, when they expanded the three-second lane to 12 feet so Big George couldn’t plant himself next to the basket anymore. In the three
seasons preceding that rule change (’49 to ’51), he averaged 28 points on 42 percent shooting. For the next three years (’52 to ’54), he averaged 21 points on 39 percent shooting. Given how Mikan struggled to adjust to the three-second rule and the post-shot-clock era, you can only imagine how his career would have suffered when they changed the goaltending rules and allowed more black players. Every piece of evidence points to Mikan having better timing than anything: he entered and departed the league at the quintessential times. Unfortunately, we can’t stick him lower than Level 3 because I can’t risk offending my nursing home demographic.

Two fun things about George: First, he’s the only player in NBA history to successfully carry off the “thick glasses and dorky kneepads” combination. Every Mikan picture or clip makes him look like the starting center for Lambda Lambda Lambda’s intramural hoops team.
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Second, he may have been the toughest player of that era, breaking ten different bones and taking 160 stitches during his nine-year career. He helped Minny win the 1950 title playing with a broken wrist. During the 1951 playoffs, he played with a fractured leg when Minny fell to Rochester in the Western Finals. As Mikan told
Newsday
years later, “The doctors taped a plate on it for the playoffs. I played all right, scored in the 20s. I couldn’t run, sort of hopped down the court.” He was like the Bizarro Vince Carter. Of course, he just inadvertently proved the point of the previous few paragraphs—that Mikan excelled during an era when centers could score 20 a game in the playoffs while hopping around with a plate taped to their broken leg.

35. KEVIN MCHALE

Resume: 13 years, 10 quality, 7 All-Stars … Top 5 (’87) … All-Defense (6x, three 1st) … season leader: FG% (2x) … 2nd-best player on one champ (’86 Celts) and 2 runner-ups (’85, ’87); 6th man for 2 other champs (’81, ’84) … 2-year peak: 24–9–3, 60% FG … 3-year Playoffs peak: 24–9, 59% FG … 3rd-best playoff FG ever, 100+ games (56.6%) … career: 55% FG (12th), 80% FT

The starting power forward on the Players I Miss Most from the Old Days team. Watch an old Celtics game on ESPN Classic and think of Tim Duncan while you study McHale: long arms, quick feet, tortuous low-post moves, an unblockable sky hook, underrated passing, an uncanny ability to block shots and keep the ball in play. It’s all there. Duncan runs the floor better; McHale had a wider arsenal of low-post moves. Other than that, they’re basically the same. Duncan is a little faster and a little more athletic; McHale was better at handling double-teams (and sometimes even triple-teams). Of course, we’ll see ten Duncans before we see another McHale. John Salley once described the experience of guarding McHale down low as “being in the man’s
chamber.”
Nobody could score more ways down low; not even Hakeem. McHale feasted on defenders with the following three moves: the jump hook (he could do it with either hand, although he never missed the righty one and could shoot it from a variety of angles), the turnaround fall-away (he could do it from both sides and from either direction; completely unblockable), and the step-back jumper from 12–15 feet (which always went in, forcing defenders to play up on him).
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