"Friday" by Rebecca Black is Actually Alright

Listen, I know as well as anyone that this is a basketball blog where we make dark, semi-literary vignettes about Richard Jefferson. Right now we're in the middle of documenting - to the possession - what happened to the Spurs against the Grizzlies, a complex, winding tour through marginal athletic advantage and its sometimes gigantic consequences in the legacy of professional athletics. I know all that.

But I just wanted to say that "Friday" by Rebecca Black is an alright song. It gets tons of bile towards it - somewhat justifiably, considering it's one of the simplest, most banal songs ever written, and doesn't say much of anything. It's entertainment at best. On the other hand, when did it pretend to be anything different? It's a melody, some lyrics, and a little bit of flashy image for teenagers. That's all it is, and if you're looking for more, then you're not going to find it.

Spurs-Grizzlies Game 2 - Part 2

Today we finish up the first rotation of the game. Everyone is still in the same place they were yesterday. Same exact players. Zach Randolph is no wider; Tim Duncan no thinner. Richard Jefferson no taller; Manu no less tenacious.

9:02 4-6

I was watching the Spurs-Knicks series a few weeks ago, and there were a couple hilarious Spurs possessions where no one was doing anything on offense, so much so that the announcers were vocally complaining before the possession was over. And then, with just seconds left on the shot clock, Tim Duncan still managed to drive to the basket or hit a high-arcing shot over his defender. It was really funny until I remembered this series, in which Zach Randolph did the exact same thing over and over. And his defender - usually that pinnacle of class (and legitimately skilled as a man defender) Antonio McDyess - could do nothing.

Spurs-Grizzlies Game 2 - Part 1

Introduction

As part of Pearls of Mystery's ongoing commitment to "stretch the game out; etch your [own] name out," we're going to be deconstructing the heck out of the Spurs-Grizzlies series.  The goals here are several, most of them federal:

1. Improve my ability to analyze basketball on a strategic level
2. Improve my knowledge of various star players and their actual contributions to basketball games, and 
3. Improve my communication and research apparatus of the above

So we're going to do look at every single possession of Game 2.  Some of these are going to be forgettable, especially in garbage time (after one rotation I eminently understand how the old saw "right way to play the game" has quite a bit of evidence), but even when a possession itself is broken or boring, oftentimes a string of possessions will be interesting and coherent.  So part of the challenge for me is to break it up into "possessions" at some times and "flows" at other times.  Will it drag on?  Yes, but after the first game or two like this, I'm going to switch this mode of analysis into 3-8 minute sequences deconstructing incredible runs or incredible breakdowns, or just basketball at its starkest and most stylistically interesting (for example, the Miami collapse in Game 2).

12:00, First Quarter, 0-0

The first possession of Game 2 is a startlingly elegant set play by the Spurs. Sebastian Pruiti shows perfectly a more extreme (and decisive) example of this play, but this more workaday possession is still a beaut.

After Duncan wins the tip, the Spurs and Grizzlies start with an insultingly simple defensive and offensive set-up reminiscent of a tic-tac-toe game gone wrong. I am insulted by this simplicity, Tim! Antonio McDyess stands in the high post (guarded by Zach Randolph) while Tim Duncan, Tony Parker, Richard Jefferson, and Manu Ginobili stand around the perimeter. This is straightforward in every sense except that Tim Duncan has the ball.

Tim Duncan Contemplates a 2003 Nets Fast Break

It's the Spurs-Nets Finals. Manu catches and shoots a three without moving his head or legs. Long story short, Richard Jefferson, Jason Kidd, and Kenyon Martin are on the break against only one player - Tim Duncan. Kidd has the ball.

Heh. I wish David Robinson were in the game. It's always fun smothering an offensive possession with the Admiral. I wonder if that's what the Navy is like, all just sailing to other countries and stopping them from becoming too offensively powerful. I wish I knew more about politics.

Well, I guess I'm back on defense. I wish someone else were here to help. I guess I'll have to handle it myself. Hmm, I'm in pretty much the right position, being on the corner of the paint. I wish I knew what this spot was called after all these years. Maybe it's the elbow. It has some kind of a name. I'll find out later. After all, my concentration is the only thing that stands between Richard Jefferson and a basket.

Ask Pearls of Mystery Anything (actually just one question, that I wrote myself)!

Why are you so obsessed with Free Darko, Burl Ives, Richard Jefferson, Tim Duncan, Sean Elliott, etc., Alex? I want to hear about actual basketball in an objective and fun way, not about these strange, baroque character sketches with Lovecraftian and otherwise surreal undertones.

That's a good question, Alex. Let me answer your question in order.

1. Bethlehem Shoals (and to a lesser extent Eric Freeman) of Free Darko - Much of the first half of this blog can be read as a surreal parody of Free Darko (SEE: Every use of 'dialectic'). This is because he generally knows his stuff, but often lets his off-beat (though often moralistic or political) character sketches and writerly fixations on interesting narratives take the place of his judgment, like Bill Simmons crossed with...a grad student in journalism or library studies. Granted, he's certainly capable of the occasional "Eff You" short essay, and the clarity of some of his images is often called for. Something that makes Shoals better...or worse...than many other NBA scribes is his (how else shall I say it?) deliberate forgetfulness. It only matters marginally how he characterizes, say, the 2011 Suns when writing about the previous year's or next year's squads. He forgets, for the most part, everything he has written before when the new writing begins, only seeming to explicitly remember them again in the course of writing them. If the 2011 Nash was, say, "Bean from Ender's Shadow," then the process of trading Nash can be "Madame Bovary looking for a suitor" and Shoals will find no need to attempt to reconcile these images. This forgetful approach, without an overarching schema of images, seems cosmically wrong and is infuriatingly vague on occasion (...to the extent anything on the Internet actually infuriates people, a.k.a. annoyance with marginal moral outrage). But it's hard to argue with the results, which are generally successful. There is no ideology, and no bias, to Shoals, which makes his already-nebulous offering of a "unique take" blend further into the surrounding blogosphere, leaving as residue of the apparent uniqueness only the quality of the writing which implies a lifetime of thought and experience that is not perhaps unrivaled but is, still, unique.. Shoals is like a disembodied hand with no accountability, no memory, and no identity, but in the meantime has forged himself as a premier NBA writer. I have high respect for his craft, but his weird ability to co-opt any subject and lend his voice to any narrative he happens to encounter is kind of eerie, and I don't say that altogether respectfully. That fascinates me.

Defensive Drills, Snake Oil, and Hand-Based Syllogisms: Coach Mark Jackson

Formerly titled "Richard Jefferson and I meet Coach Mark Jackson"

Mark Jackson was the newly-minted coach of the Golden State Warriors. Curious about this plausible train-wreck, I decided to see what was up. So one morning, I packed my bags, headed to the station, and before noon an equally curious Richard Jefferson and I were on a train, going west to Jackson's "season combine".

"Why is he hosting a season combine? Is that normal?" I asked as the conductor left our compartment.

"John, nothing about this is normal. Mark Jackson was the Nets' color commentator for a couple years while I was there. He's the most abnormal person anyone could possibly have chosen for a coaching gig."

This took me by surprise. Of all the players likely to be considered for a job in the surreal and paranormal, Richard Jefferson was right below Ron Artest and Deshawn Stevenson. He had seen it all in this league, and had an acute sense for what was abnormal, largely because he was the most average player in the history of the league: What was abnormal was merely what was unlike Jefferson.

As a Royal Guru once said...

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

-T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

Here is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head, behind Christopher Robin. It is, as far as he knows, the only way of coming downstairs, but sometimes he feels that there really is another way, if only he could stop bumping for a moment and think about it.

-A.A. Milne, Winnie the Pooh

Okay, I've dissed Richard Jefferson enough. This is a mistake, and, as per my motto*, I would like to fix this mistake. As ridiculous as he is, we cannot prey on phantoms just because we are hungry. RJ 2.0 (as some Spurs fans first enthusiastically, than mockingly, titled his promising 2010-11) didn't exactly bring us to the promised land; in fact, he looked lost in the Memphis series, and indeed, the whole time after the All-Star break, he was a less efficient, less influential part of the Spurs on both ends. Sure, he had his place in the starting lineup, but after Tim's injury (and doubly so after Manu's at the end) he just did not have a place on the team. The reasons for this are several, most of them federal: List while I list.

*-"Never make mistakes, always come correct."

Mike Brown and Mike Woodson Talk Shop

I was reading SLAM tonight, and I came across the following passage, in which Hawks coach Mike Woodson addresses his team before an important Mavs road game:

“...I don’t give a shit about the offense; you guys can score more than enough points to win games. The offense isn’t the problem. But you have to get stops on defense, and if you’ll listen to what we’re telling you, I promise you’ll get stops. The shit works, okay? The shit works, but you guys just have to have the pride and the heart to buy into it and do what we’re asking you to do every time down the court.”

Reading this reminded me of a little-known incident a few years back. Almost immediately after the 2009 Finals, Milwaukee small forward Richard Jefferson was being scouted for a possible trade to either the Cavs or the Hawks. Jefferson therefore had to make two private appointments with the head coaches of those teams, Mike Brown and Mike Woodson.

Concerns for the complex and heavy schedules of all three men led Jefferson to suggest instead that he meet with both coaches simultaneously. Jefferson supposed that they could meet up in a practice facility for his demonstration, after which they would all get some dinner and discuss where he could fit into their respective teams. This suggestion was well-received by both Woodson and Brown, and so the only remaining unknown was the location. Jefferson said it would be a little questionable to meet up in a Bucks' facility for a demonstration that could very well send him packing, so he suggested they all meet instead in San Antonio at the Spurs' practice facility. After all, Brown had served under Spurs coach Gregg Popovich there, and Woodson had served under the legendary Larry Brown, Popovich's mentor. This seemed reasonable enough for all parties, and it was settled. The plane tickets were bought.

Richard Jefferson Handles a Midseason Interview

Interviewer: Hello Richard, how are you today?

Richard Jefferson: I'm feeling pretty good. The team is doing great, too, and, you know, that always helps!

I: Richard, how about a firsthand perspective. Could you talk about Manu's recent surge?

RJ: Manu's been, you know, really great these last few games. Tim Duncan sort of looks more like an anchor, physically, but Manu is just as much of an anchor. A light, fast anchor that moves violently under the ship, even hitting the ship and smashing the hull sometimes. But he boosts our morale in a big way. Manu is just an incredible morale-booster.

I: Yeah, I can see what you mean. He really turns those disappointing quarters into stellar ones.

RJ: Heh, just like Tim Duncan with our whole franchise here.

The Wheels Fall Off

From Spurs Media Day, 2009 at about 2:00.

Interviewer: Does Tim talk about or give the impression to you that, he doesn't have a lot of years left - he now needs to make these seasons count?

Richard Jefferson: No, I've seen him, and you can tell. His game is pretty much trash right now and I've told him that multiple times, that that's why they brought us all in here. Because of his deteriorating body and so, uh, it's one of those things that, you know, I tell him he should be thanking me more than I should be thanking him being brought into this situation. No, all kidding aside, Tim is a person that's gonna - I asked him when we were in the Olympics five years ago and he said he was gonna play until the wheels fell off. So he's a guy that's very passionate about this game - loves to play and so he's gonna play pretty much until they make him stop. Who knows how long he has?

2015

Richard Jefferson: I have called you all here for a press conference, to discuss my future in basketball.

Reporter 1: Are you retiring?

The construction of humor from horror

Veteran Richard Jefferson woke up and his heart was beating too fast and his eyes felt wet and painful. "Probably the apnea, or the nightmares," he supposed as he stood up and walked to the hotel sink. "The basilisks of 2003. Would they ever slither in and out of Duncan's eyes again, as they had in Game 6? Were they ever really there or had I invented them?" he wondered as he turned on the faucet and moistened a towel to wipe off his bloodshot, pus-filled eyes.

During these quick first moments in the morning, in the slick and adequate hotels of Eastern Conference roadtrips, RJ often had days like this. According to the mirror, the whites of his eyes were completely red. "Clay Face" they used to call him, because his head and face seemed so malleable, innocent, and bald. But the reddened eyes gave the gentle giant a sort of distortive horror and ruined the illusion, and his face now appeared as a bleeding bronze stone - a single, indivisible sadness. He poured a cup of tea from the ancient bronze hotel samovar and noticed, intricately carved around the samovar, an ouroboros - the snake that eats its own tail. "How old was this samovar? What will happen if I -...," sipped Richard Jefferson.